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January 2009
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Table of Contents
Abstract........................................................................................................................................1
Synoptic Introduction ...............................................................................................................2
Chapter 1: The Derrida-Foucault Debate ............................................................................9
MadnessandtheProcessofExclusion ....................................................................................11
TheEarlyTreatmentoftheMad................................................................................................16
TheGreatConfinementandtheInstitutionalSilencingofMadness .............................17
FoucaultsCritiqueofDescartes ................................................................................................22
DerridasCritiqueofFoucault ....................................................................................................24
FoucaultsResponsetoDerrida .................................................................................................30
Chapter 2: Foucaults Methods ........................................................................................... 36
Archeology ........................................................................................................................................38
Genealogy ..........................................................................................................................................46
TheUnionofEruditeKnowledgeandLocalMemories ............................................................... 47
EstablishinganHistoricalKnowledgeofStruggles....................................................................... 49
UsingThisKnowledgeTacticallyToday ............................................................................................ 53
WhatisEnlightenment? ............................................................................................................55
Chapter 3: The Method of Deconstruction: Derrida on Marx ..................................... 62
TheDeconstructiveApproach....................................................................................................63
SpectersofMarx...............................................................................................................................68
TheMetaphoroftheSpecter................................................................................................................... 69
TheTwoVoicesofMarx ............................................................................................................................ 72
TheMessianic ................................................................................................................................................ 77
Justice .................................................................................................................................................82
Chapter 4: Foucaults Shifting Conception of Normalization ...................................... 87
TheAnalysisofTukeandPinel..................................................................................................87
TheLecturesonPsychiatricPower ..........................................................................................94
TheEmergenceofDisciplinaryPower ....................................................................................97
DisciplinaryPower.........................................................................................................................99
DisciplinaryPowerIndividualizes......................................................................................................103
DisciplinaryPowerisContinuous.......................................................................................................106
DisciplinaryPowersEffectontheSubject......................................................................................109
DisciplinaryPowerisComprehensiveandUbiquitous .............................................................111
Chapter 5: Intersubjective Economies of Power and Resistance...............................115
TheFamily...................................................................................................................................... 117
PowerandResistance ................................................................................................................ 124
TheEconomyofPower .............................................................................................................. 135
Chapter 6: The Madness of the Gift .................................................................................139
TheSociologyoftheGift ............................................................................................................ 140
ThePhenomenologyoftheGift............................................................................................... 145
TheGiftasLiteraryTheory ...................................................................................................... 152
TheImpossibilityoftheGift..................................................................................................... 157
ii
Chapter 7: Everyday Madness: The Gift in The Gift of Death ..................................162
AbrahaminFearandTrembling............................................................................................. 164
GodandtheOther:DerridaonKierkegaardandLevinas ............................................. 170
TheSacrificeofEthics ................................................................................................................ 175
Chapter 8: The Gift of Power ............................................................................................182
FreudandtheQuestionofMastery ....................................................................................... 182
SelfMasteryinLateFoucault .................................................................................................. 191
PowerandtheGift....................................................................................................................... 198
Conclusion ..............................................................................................................................206
Works Cited ...........................................................................................................................211
iii
Abstract
The goal of this dissertation is to show the concerns Derrida and Foucault share
about normalization. Reading Foucault and Derrida together and against each other
Derrida calls our attention to the inexorability of my normalizing the other; Foucault
To show these similarities, I draw out the parallels in the philosophical projects of
Foucault and Derrida that illustrate the different ways each man approaches the limited
argue that the criteria of the gift articulated in Derridas analysis in Given Time and the
continuous structural giving he locates in The Gift of Death reflect the fundamental
Reading Foucaults analytics of power against Derridas analysis of the gift, and
Together, these two philosophical projects make us more attentive to how we are
simultaneously shaped by and shaping those around us. Such awareness instills a sense
principle but a responsibility that arises out of seeing the other and ourselves differently.
and to the other as an impetus to that creativity. Conversely, there is greater attention
paid to letting the other be and to ourselves as the inhibitors of the other.
1
Synoptic Introduction
This dissertation is an attempt to read Foucault and Derrida together and against
each other and, in doing so, identify those points where their two projects make fruitful
contact. Despite their different vocabularies and different philosophical trajectories, there
are significant thematic overlaps that have been ignored or disregarded by Foucauldians
and Derrideans. Ultimately, I try to bring these projects to touch by linking Foucaults
conception of power with Derridas analysis of the gift. Normalizing power, I argue,
fulfills the Derridean criteria of a gift; we dwell in a general economy of power that is
given and received by us without ever being manifest. This reading also combines the
two differing concerns with the other that we find in Foucault and Derrida. Whereas for
Derrida the issue is always how we render the other the same in order to recognize the
other, for Foucault, the other is the source of our own normalization.
I begin by examining the initial debate between Derrida and Foucault over
Foucaults reading of Descartes. Within this debate, we can see the dissertations central
which we find ourselves. To establish the framework of the debate, I first look at
Foucaults analysis of the rise of institutions in the Classical Age, which finds shifting
social attitudes concerning the mad. Where they had been largely left alone, new
perceptions emerged; they were regarded as useless and confined to asylums. This
marginalization reflects the larger social dynamic of defining the other as a way of
establishing a we. Who we are is directly impacted by who we are not. Foucaults
simultaneously marginalizing this other and keeping the other within the sphere of the
2
we: once institutionalized, the mad are wholly defined by the institution but with the
larger goal of eradicating the madness that defines them. The effect is to silence
Derrida takes issue with the premises of this project, arguing that any archeology
madness, Foucault is forced to bring madness into the sphere of reason, which means
My focus here is on the implications of this debate. The first implication is the
greater attention to domination and mastery. Derrida makes clear that even the best
intentions to address the plight of the marginalized only reinforce their marginalization.
These themes of domination and mastery also play themselves out in the debate itself.
Both Derridas attack and Foucaults response are motivated by a desire to show
themselves as free of stale philosophical traditions and the other as embedded in the
himself from the totalizing effects of reason; for Foucault, Derrida clings to the idea of
language as a rational unity. But, and this is the second implication, the domination and
mastery are more structural and deeper. As both Foucault and Derrida recognize, the
possibility of freeing oneself from the system of thought one inhabits is an impossibility.
How do we then find the possibility of thinking differently? How can we avoid
domination by the systems in which we find ourselves? Foucault and Derrida look in
opposite directions and construct their own particular methods in order to answer these
3
questions. We may not be able to break free of the current systems of thought that define
us, but both men locate resources and approaches that open up the present to questioning
and provide new avenues for thought. Chapter 2 presents the historical methodologies
shows first that this history is not the seamless unfolding of past events; the history of
various fields and concepts comprises discontinuities and inconsistencies that the usual
historical methods paper over. Second, Foucault shows us that this new understanding of
the past reveals the contingency of the present and affords us a perspective on where we
If Foucault looks to the past to understand how the present came to be the way it
is, Derrida looks to the futurealbeit a very specific idea of the futureas offering the
best hope for wrenching open the sphere of sameness that defines the present. To
understand what Derrida means by this future, as the to-come, in chapter 3 I first explain
illustrate this method of reading and to introduce the radical ideas of the
come, I look at Derridas reading of Marx in which he deconstructs Marx and unleashes a
radical, messianic Marx. Within this secondary, heretofore unnoticed Marx, Derrida
thinking that will frame the discussions to come. They also show a shared interest in
trying to break free of the current modes of thinking that are geared to reproducing only
4
themselves. The next several chapters will look more deeply at how the systems of
follow the theme of madness in Foucault and track how Foucaults understanding of
power and its product, normalization, shift throughout Foucaults works. Beginning with
the implicit concerns about normalization operating in History of Madness, we will see
with the lectures on psychiatric power and carrying through his final works on
thinking about normalization reveals the gradually deepening grip that normalizing power
has on us. Foucaults analytics initially present power as a repressive force operating
within institutions. As his thinking matures, Foucault recognizes the productive nature of
powerand its drive to expand. Over the course of his career, he illustrates how power
works its way into smaller and smaller regions of subjectivity, most noticeably the
bourgeois family. I argue that the medicalized family gives us a model for how power
breaks free of the institutional realm and infiltrates the intersubjective level as parents
In chapter 6, I leave Foucault aside and turn to Derridas study of the gift in Given
Time. It is here that Derrida presents us with a formal analysis of the gifts aporetic
nature and its impossibility. Our ordinary understanding of what it means to give gifts
conceals a profound conceptual instability: a gift, whether given or received, sets off a
5
exchange nullify the gift. Making an anonymous donation, I purchase a good feeling
about myself. Receiving a gift, I feel obliged to reciprocate. With these types of
exchanges, the giftthe unexpected and unforeseen, the chance elementis precluded.
The gift relationship becomes an economy, which requires the reduction of everything to
rational principles. It forces everything into the constraints imposed by the sphere of
and a limit case for phenomenology: we cannot know the gift without its ceasing to be a
gift. The conditions that make the gift possible are the conditions that make it
impossible.
Impossible, but necessary. An economy cannot grow without gifts since a gift
momentarily ruptures the otherwise totalizing system. Because a gift is given without
reason or hope for any return, because it goes beyond the economic terms of the
contractual relationship, it does not fit within the rational principles. This rupture only
lasts for a moment, though, as the economy expands to recoup the gift and bring it back
deconstructive reading of Fear and Trembling, which turns the story of Abrahams
sacrifice of Isaac into an analogy of our own ethical obligations. Where Kierkegaard
took the knight of faith, that individual who stands in absolute relation to the absolute, to
be a rarity, Derrida shows that the very structure of ethical obligation requires us all to
face the absolutely other. And like Abraham, we are all required to make a sacrifice to
this other. The other entails the gift of the deaththe sacrificeof other others to whom
6
we are equally obligated. This analysis marks an expansion in Derridas thinking about
the gift than that found in Given Time. Here we find a general economy of giving rather
than giving as an individual act. The sacrifice of other others is a structural giving that
takes place constantly and continually and by the very nature of our existence. It is what
makes our ethical obligation and our responsibility to the other an irresponsible act.
Chapter 8 brings together the Foucauldian and Derridean threads we have been
following. Returning to the earlier debate between Foucault and Derrida, I look at
of Madness toward Freud and which re-opens the debate about mastery. Foucault first
credits Freud with letting madness speak only to then criticize psychoanalysis for trying
to speak for madnessthe very criticism Derrida initially leveled at Foucault. Derrida
argues that Foucault suppresses his obligations to Freud in an attempt to master the ghost
of Freud that haunts his work. But mastery always carries with it the threat of
domination, I look briefly at Foucaults late studies of classical ethics, which posit a
relationship to the self that provides for techniques and games of power that avoid
domination.
Even the aesthetics of the self that was once a model for avoiding normalization
has become normalizing as self-creation has become a mantra for consumer capitalism.
This poses the additional dilemma that resistance via self-creation is now simply part of
the normalizing system it was intended to resist. This creates a crisis for those
Foucauldians who argue that resistance is a rarity: how can we possibly resist
7
To address this crisis, we must recognize normalizing power as the gift. Using
a structural giving that meets Derridas criteriait is given and received by individuals,
yet each individuals roles as giver and receiver are unrecognized; and power itself is
never manifest. Any awareness we have of powers effect on us is after the fact, when it
is already altered by its interaction with our own particular configuration of normalizing
forces. Taking this a step further, I build on my argument from chapter five that shows
normalizing power operating at the intersubjective level and make the case that power is
constantly circulated between individuals as a continuous and structural giving. Like the
gift of death, power is given with every encounter. By understanding power as a general
economy, the crisis of resistance fades: if power and resistance arise simultaneously, any
8
Chapter 1: The Derrida-Foucault Debate
source of interest for numerous commentators. Most often this debate is presented as the
recent commentators, however, have chosen to look beyond the strategic differences in
these approaches. Michael Naas points out that this dialogue is itself marked by the
very things at issue in the dialogue, that is, by exclusion and inclusion, mastery, control,
communication with the other, and silence.2 This auseinandersetzung, in other words, is
really about something more fundamental than how to read Descartes or how Descartes
views the place of madness in his search for certainty. At the heart of this debate are two
themes: the question of normalization, i.e., how systems of thought turn what is other into
Normalization, admittedly, is not a stated theme of the debate. Foucault had not
yet articulated the effects of disciplinary systems in terms of normalization, and Derrida
is not yet questioning the possibility of the coming of the other. But normalization does
frame the dialogue. The debate in fact revolves around the question of who is more
normalized: Foucault and Derrida each accuse the other of failing to break free of the
philosophical tradition; and, in the process of accusing the other, each tries to present
himself as no longer held in thrall by the tradition and thus able to say something new.
First, we have the question of mastery. Derrida raises the issue of mastery in his
1
See Soshana Felman, Madness and Philosophy or Literatures Reason, Yale French Studies 52 (1975):
206-228. Jeffrey T. Nealon, Exteriority and Appropriation: Foucault, Derrida, and the Discipline of
Literary Criticism, Cultural Critique 21 (Spring 1992): 97-119. Edward Said, The Problem of
Textuality: Two Exemplary Positions, Critical Inquiry 4 (1978): 673-714. Michael Sprinker, Textual
Politics: Foucault and Derrida, boundary 2 8.3 (Spring 1980): 75-98.
2
Michael Naas, Taking on the Tradition: Jacques Derrida and the Legacies of Deconstruction (Stanford:
Stanford University, 2003) 59.
9
introductory remarks where he admits that the disciple finds a voice, but not without
trepidation: [A]s a disciple, he is challenged by the master who speaks within him and
before him, to reproach him for making this challenge and to reject it in advance, having
elaborated it before him; and having interiorized the master, he is also challenged by the
disciple that he himself is.3 The disciple is an unhappy conscious, torn between his
infinite speculation on the master and his own need to speak. The pain of the disciple
master. Second, what Derrida says as enacts his own overcoming of Foucaults influence
Derrida concludes that Foucault, one of the foremost avant-garde philosophers in France
at the time, had failed to extract himself from traditional philosophical thinking.
audience when Derrida presented Cogito and the History of Madness, remained silent.
Some ten years later, however, he presented his rebuttal and in it argued that Derridas
reading of Descartesthe crux of his critiquewas flawed. Foucault ends his remarks
in My Body, This Paper, This Fire by declaring that he would refrain from accusing
3
Jacques Derrida, Cogito and the History of Madness, Writing and Difference, trans. Alan Bass
(Chicago: Univ of Chicago, 1978) 31-32. Hereafter abbreviated in the text as CHM.
4
This debate is punctuated by several instances of refraining. As we will see in chapter 8, Derrida returns
the courtesy by expressing his desire to refrain from reigniting the debate after Foucaults death.
5
Didier Eribon, Michel Foucault, trans. Betsy Wing (Cambridge: Harvard, 1991) 121.
10
representative of a system, a pedagogy that gives conversely to the masters voice the
only can we not get at what is outside the system, any attempt to understand what is
outside necessarily brings what is outside into the system, rendering it normal. This is
the crux of Derridas critique of Foucault; and it is a point Foucault acknowledges, if only
tacitly, in his response to Derridanot the explicit response of My Body, this Paper,
This chapter will trace the progression of these themes by first discussing
Foucaults analysis of madness, its social exclusion during the Great Confinement, and
the implicit function normalization plays in it. I will then turn to Derridas critique,
where we will see the issues of normalization and totalization raised more explicitly.
Finally, I will argue that A Preface to Transgression can be read as Foucaults first
reply to Derrida. These nascent themes will shape the philosophical projects of both
Derrida and Foucault, themes they will continue to revisit, each in his own way, long
Foucaults early studies of madness already hint at the question of normalization, which
will become thematic in his later work. These studies show society operating through a
6
Michel Foucault, My Body, This Paper, This Fire, Foucault: Aesthetics, Method, and Epistemology, ed.
James Faubion, trans. Geoffrey Bennington (New York: New Press, 1998) 416. Hereafter abbreviated in
the text as BPF.
7
Michel Foucault, Preface to Transgression, Language, Counter-memory, Practice: Selected Essays and
Interviews by Michel Foucault, trans. and ed. Donald Bouchard (Ithaca: Cornell, 1977). Hereafter
abbreviated in the text as PT.
11
series of distinctions: it is always determining who does and does not belong to it; it then
works to annul those distinctions by extending its homogeneity in the belief that its
defining elements are more desirable, more beneficial, and, particularly for the West,
healthier.
totality by contrasting themselves to those outside the community. All cultures divide
humanity into themselves (as paradigms of human beings) and others (who are lesser)
we because there exists an Other, and sustaining the identity of the we requires clear and
constant separation from the Other. This externally defined identity creates tension
within society: the we must exercise is power externally to keep itself separate and
isolated in order to remain a totality, and it must exercise its power internally to maintain
total homogeneity.8
The history of madness that Foucault presents illustrates exactly this tension.
What Foucault sees emerging in the Classical Age is a societal and systematic
segregation between those forms of life society recognizes as belonging to itself, as what
we do, and those forms of life that are inferior or dangerous or not what we do. Setting
aside the retrospective analyses offered by the human sciences themselves, Foucault
uncovers the repeated movement by which society dissociates itself from what it
considers to be other and, after identifying this other, works to reestablish its hold over
the other. But this rejection of what is different or abnormal is not a form of social
8
Pierre Clastres, Archeology of Violence, trans. Jeanine Herman (New York: Semiotext(e), 1994). See
chapters 1 and 4.
12
repression la Durkheim. Foucault disagrees with the anthropological or sociological
idea that society excludes the patient because it refuses to recognize itself in him or her.
Instead, he thinks that by rejecting the abnormal, society reassures itself about who it is.9
Rejecting the abnormal is not repressive; it is the way society defines itself.10 The
dynamic at work here is the same dynamic Nietzsche articulates in the first book of
Toward a Genealogy of Morals and his discussion of the slave revolt there: according to
Nietzsche, the slaves see the cruel nobles as evil and are able to tell themselves that,
because they are not like the nobles, they must be good. Society develops a concept of
itself, it defines itself, by identifying what it is not. It locates the other; and, knowing
History of Madness is built around a series of segregations. It follows the way in which
society organizes itself to indicate who belongs to it and who must be set apart. In this
study, the most prominent distinction divides the rational from the irrational, but the
opening chapter begins with another segregated population: the lepers. Foucault begins
9
Michel Foucault, Mental Illness & Psychology, trans. Alan Sheridan (New York: Harper & Row, 1976)
63.
10
Herbert Dreyfus notes that in an anticipation of a theme that only emerges fully in his later work,
Foucault already holds in his first book that the conditions of the possibility of pathology lie in the social
world. See Foucaults Critique of Psychiatric Medicine, The Journal of Medicine and Philosophy 12.4
(1987): 329.
11
Michel Foucault, History of Madness, trans. Jonathan Murphy and Jean Khalfa (London: Routledge,
2006) xxix. Hereafter abbreviated in the text as HM.
13
here because the leper illustrates the paradoxical duality of social exclusion: rejected by
their actual community and confined to lazar houses, lepers were simultaneously
embraced as members of the Christian community. Leprosy was a menace to society and
therefore the afflicted had to be isolated. But the lepers also bore witness to Gods grace:
the disease signaled the individuals sinful nature and was Gods punishment. Those
suffering were fortunate enough to receive their punishment in this world. Exclusion,
society reasoned, was part of this punishment and thus becomes a means of their
salvation.
Once leprosy disappeared, the mad came to replace the lepers as the object of
social exclusion. Their confinement differed from the confinement of the lepers because
they were saddled with a new moral characterization. The lepers were not confined
because they were sinners but because they were unclean. The confinement of the mad,
however, is based purely on what they represent, viz. a rejection of rational normality.
constructed through societys interaction with the mad and how, as a consequence of the
madness as other. In other words, the myth that positivist psychiatry tells itself (and us)
is this: the mad existed, they were grouped together and categorized, and the experts who
treated them were able to extrapolate a general notion of madness. The concept follows
from the identification of those who fell under the concept. Foucaults contention is that
this myth reverses the actual process by which society develops the concept and then
populates that category of being. Mental illness can only exist in a culture that
14
form of deviance.12 Those deemed mad are those who could be deemed other. Thus the
What Foucault shows is that from the Middle Ages through the Classical Age, there was
a shift in societys attitude toward the other: the other becomes a problem, a negative
presence that must be eliminatedas much for societys sake as for those afflicted with
the defining condition of otherness. The attempts to eliminate madness succeed only in
silencing it:
has been silenced and how, and to locate the structure of the experience of madness in a
12
Madness for Foucault is not some given behavioral or biological fact, it is a category, the product of
civilization and its institutions. The very idea that madness is individual pathology, a negative
phenomenon, a defect to be remedied, is his object of investigation. This conception of madness is not the
achievement of psychiatric rationality. Rather it is a complex and non-intentional social product, which
formed the basis of psychiatry. Paul Hirst and Penny Wooley, Social Relations and Human Attributes
(London: Tavistock, 1982) 165.
13
Michel Foucault, La folie nexiste que dans une socit, Dits et ecrits I, 1954-1975 (Paris: Gallimard,
2001) 197; my translation.
15
The Early Treatment of the Mad
As the Middle Ages gave way to the Renaissance, the madman received only a modicum
of attention. Madness was not regarded as the opposite of sanity: rather than being an
understood as a different way of seeing the world, one that could be problematic and
disruptive, but not one wholly dismissed. This is not to imply that the mad were well
treated or that they lived a life blissfully oblivious to the reality around them. Some were
shut away, but such confinement was used when it was necessary for their own protection
or for the protection of those around them, and such confinement was entirely custodial
no effort was made to treat them medically because no one approached madness as a
medical condition. Many of the mad, however, were simply allowed to roam free.
background and language of everyday life, it was for everyone an everyday experience
that one sought neither to exalt nor to control.15 The mad were often sent on
pilgrimages, either as a means of expelling them or in the belief that a particular shrine
might right them. Other towns would hand them over to sailors. Whether real or merely
allegorical, the Narrenschiff, the proverbial ship of fools, highlights the liminal position
the mad occupied in society. They existed at the threshold of society. The madmen
traveling up and down the rivers of Europe are the quintessential passengers, passengers
relegated to the passage itself. Thus the mad are metaphorically excluded, but not wholly
so. Society has not yet drawn a bright line separating the mad from everyone else; they
14
Carol Thomas Neely, Recent Work in Renaissance Studies: Psychology: Did Madness Have a
Renaissance? Renaissance Quarterly 44.4 (Winter 1991): 778.
15
Foucault, Mental Illness & Psychology, 67.
16
With the Renaissance, societys attitude toward madness shifts, and behind this
shift was the widespread belief that the end of the world was imminent. In the Middle
Ages, the end of the world was thought to show the foolishness of humankind, it is now
believed that such foolishness will bring about the end of the world. [W]isdom meant
denouncing folly wherever it was to be found, and teaching men that they were already
no more than the legions of the dead, and that if the end of life was approaching, it was
merely a reminder that a universal madness would soon unite with death (HM, 15). But
this universal madness does not hold. Where once it was an eschatological sign for
the end of the Renaissance madness is only a problem for the mad individual. It is
reduced to an ironic sign blurring the distinction between the real and the chimerical, but
with barely a memory of the great tragic threat. More a cause of hesitation than genuine
confusion, a derisory agitation in society, mobility of reason (HM, 42-43). The madman
no longer has anything to tell society about itself; rather, as we will see, society assumes
the task of telling the madman about himself. If, by the end of the Renaissance, the
madman was reduced to speaking without being heard, in the classical age he will be
silenced altogether.
The founding of the Hpital Gnral in Paris in 1656 inaugurates the era of confinement,
which denotes a significant shift in the treatment of the mad. Confinement differs from
madness (HM, 120). Foucault shows how the practices of confinement challenge and
17
ultimately supplant the power of medicine to treat the mad. By doing so, confinement
dictates the manner in which the mad are excluded in the classical age and subsequently
reintegrated through normalizing practices in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth
centuries.
For Foucault, the modern concept of psychological alienation arises out of the
and the mode of confinement. These two conceptions of madness entail two very
different ways of making the mad into an other. The former mode saw the person
escorted into the world of madness; the latter mode exiled the person to the world of
madness (HM, 131). This divided understanding provides the conditions of possibility
for the shift in focus regarding the mad. During the first half of the seventeenth century,
the mad individual was the locus of juridical and medical interaction. The madman was a
subject with legal obligations and rights; madness was analyzed in terms of the
individuals ability to fulfill those obligations. A person found to be mad was released
from certain responsibilities based on his or her degree of madness: the highest order,
fools, for example, could legally marry and make a will but not hold office;
imbeciles had fewer legal responsibilities; and the stupid could not participate in any
judicial act. A judge might suspect a person was mad, but it was left to the discretion of
doctors to determine whether a person was actually mad and, if so, where he or she fell in
the order of unreason. The physician had the authority to determine if a mad individual
was capable of being judged. Thus the doctor determined who entered the world of
18
madness (HM, 124).16 Because of the influence of medicine in judging madness, the law
was forever refining its understanding of madness in order to make better judgments.
By the early eighteenth century, the practice of confinement was ascendant and
medical judgment ignored. Confinement co-opted the juridical practices and outflanked
the medical authority on the insane. The nuanced medical assessment of madness was
But the change was not introduced to transfer the balance of power to the
more objective world of medicine: in fact the aim was that the power of
decision should pass to a judicial authority that had no recourse to medical
expertise. Interdiction required no medical expertise, and was a matter to
be agreed between the families and the judicial authorities (HM, 126).
Medicine, in its role in determining the status of the madman as a juridical subject, was
individual: [Confinement] measures social behavior, and paves the way for a dualist
pathology that will divide everything into binary oppositionsnormal and abnormal,
healthy and sickto create two radically different domains separated by the simple
formula good for confinement (HM, 128). With the treatment of the madman as a
social subject, we see the first stirrings of normalization. His behavior is judged
according to wider social expectations and is found wanting; his presence disturbs and
disrupts society. Confinement turned the madman into a stranger: madness was not a
release from responsibilities; it only furthered ones association with other madmen,
which only increased ones guilt. Madness thus becomes a category encompassing all the
16
This gate-keeping role will be reversed once the physician assumes his role in the asylum. Then it will
be physician who determines which patients are able to return to the world of the sane.
17
The asylum, like the prison, emerged as the reciprocal of these projects that recast the questions of
public tranquility, wealth, and happiness as problems of the moral constitution of free citizens: the mad
19
Segregation of the other in the seventeenth century represents an inventiveness
and an institutionalization of power not present in the Middle Ages. It now takes on the
function of assigning meanings and value to the excluded. And, in the history of
madness more specifically, this is the period when madness will become part of the nexus
of emerging problems confronting growing urban centers and, consequently, the target of
new responses to these problems. In the sensibility that organizes the Hpital Gnral,
madness confronts a new form of power that has no truck with what cannot or will not
abide by reason. The point is to dominate and subdue unruly and potentially
unmanageable sectors of the population, viz. those with no resources and no social
moorings, an underclass that had been abandoned, displaced against its will due to
economic change (HM, 64). Domination of these sectors takes the form of physical
restraint and coercion: quarantining, isolation, deprivation, and torture. These people
The Hpital Gnral exemplifies the policing role of the houses of confinement.
Part asylum, part prison, part old peoples home, this remarkable hybrid institution
housed for over two centuries every imaginable form of social and medical misfit from
structure with its own powers, a third order of repression occupying a space somewhere
between the police and the courts. The purpose of confinement was to punish and
reform, but release from the houses of confinement did not indicate that one was cured.
Release only indicated that one had repented and had learned to be docile (HM, 113). In
would be those who could not operate that regulated freedom that made up society, who could not bear
their obligations as social citizens. Nikolaus Rose, Of madness itself: Histoire de la folie and the object
of psychiatric history, History of the Human Sciences 3.3 (Feb. 1990): 377.
18
Mark S. Micale, The Salptri in the Age of Charcot: An Institutional Perspective on Medical History in
the Late Nineteenth Century, Journal of Contemporary History 20 (1985): 706.
20
actual practice, confinement established and maintained monarchical and bourgeois order
repressive power enacting the bourgeois ideal in which order equals virtue (HM, 76).
What is remarkable to our sensibilities is the heterogeneity of those confined. And what,
Foucault asks, is the common denominator? What was the sensibility driving this new
form of exclusion, a form far more promiscuous than that experienced by the lepers? A
is a sign of pride, which, in the classical age, is the greatest fault. Poverty, therefore, is a
product of weak morals. Labor, on the other hand, is the opposite of poverty: it is our
moral obligation, and it will be rewarded by God. The confined populations of the idle
would be forced to worknot for profit or utility, but for its purely ethical value. A
willingness to work indicated an acceptance of this moral order. Labor thus represents a
mode of normalization, a recognition that one must behave in a prescribed way. Those
who worked would be released to rejoin society, not because they were useful but
because their willingness to work signified that they renewed their allegiance to the
great ethical pact that underpinned human existence (HM, 73). Those who could not, or
would not, work would remain confined. One of the groups that failed to fit with this
bourgeois ethic was the mad. Unable to labor, the mad are socially useless. If in the
else, it is not because the mad do come from a different heaven, that of the meaningless,
still bearing its signs, it is simply that they have crossed the frontiers of the bourgeois
order, and become alien to the sacred limits of its ethics (HM, 72). The mad are left
21
with nowhere to go. Their violations of and inability to conform to the bourgeois ethic
meant that they were condemned to remain confined. They were further relegated to the
The Great Confinement was not only a societal effort to silence madness. It was part of a
general shift in how the mad were viewed. The division of reason and madness that
occurred at the societal level also occurs within the subject. It produces in a person a
Psychiatry will not emerge for sometime after the Great Confinement, but the harbinger
understand the radicality of his philosophical approach and the shift in thinking he
represents, one must compare him to Montaigne. Speaking from the perspective or
unreasonable to assume that our minds occupy a privileged position and that they are
capable of measuring the truth and falsity of the world. However, Foucault tells us,
between Montaigne and Descartes an event has taken place, which concerns the advent
of a ratio (HM, 47). Cartesian ratio grants us a privileged position, but to do so it relies
on the silencing of madness and banishes the possibility of madness from the reasonable
person.
22
In trying to establish the absolutely certain foundations of reason, Descartes
questions sense perception and finds it prone to error. But, he asks, how could he
possibly doubt his immediate experiences? How could he doubt that his hands and body
were his own? There are cases in which people do doubt the nature of their own bodies,
he reminds us. There are those among the insane whose brains are so impaired that they
steadfastly insist that they are kings when they are utter paupers, or that they are arrayed
in purple robes when they are naked, or that they have heads made of clay, or that they
are gourds, or that they are made of glass.19 Descartes, however, rejects this avenue for
his own doubt: But such people are mad, and I would appear no less mad, were I to take
their behavior as an example for myself.20 Instead of taking madness as a precedent for
his doubt, he turns to dreaming; it affords equally implausible experiences but without the
danger of madness.
possibility of madness. The exclusion of madness from reason and from his project is
Dreams and sensory errors maintain a connection, however tenuous, to the truth.
Madness and truth, on the other hand, are incompatible. Descartes takes it as axiomatic
that madness is an impossibility for the thinking subject: he will work through the other
19
Ren Descartes, Meditations on First Philosophy, 3rd ed., trans. Donald Cress (Indianopolis: Hackett,
1993) 14.
20
Ibid.
23
two possibilities and consider their illusory nature; madness is simply set aside and
considered unworthy of any consideration. Those people are mad, and if I thought like
them, I would be mad too. But because I think, I cannot be mad. Madness for Descartes
rules out the possibility of certainty because it rules out the possibility of the very search
the larger social exclusion that would take place with the Great Confinement. Madness,
Descartes shows us, can serve no purpose: it does no work, whether that work is physical
labor or the intellectual labor required by the search for certainty. Just as the mad were
Foucaults brief analysis of Descartes occupies only three pages in the nearly six-
study of the Great Confinement. Yet for Derrida, this three-page analysis encapsulates
the books entire problematic: the intention Foucault ascribes to Descartes, viz. the
exclusion of madness from reason, is the same intention he analyzes in the society of the
Classical Age. However, Derrida argues, the instability of this reading of Descartes
points up the problems with Foucaults broader conclusions about the archeology of that
Derridas critique revolves around two different sets of questions. The first set
24
understand those passages in which Descartes deals with the Cogito and madness? Is his
Descartes as treating dreams and sensory errors in parallel fashion; madness is treated
differently. This is because dreams and errors can be dealt with from within the truth;
madness, however, is inadmissible. For Derrida, separating madness from sensory errors
and dreams is a deviation from the classical reading of Descartes. He shows this with
two observations. First, Descartes does not circumvent errors or dreams; pace Foucault,
Dreams radicalize sensory error because they render all sensory experience false.
21
Derridas claim relies not on the particular terms in which doubt is presented but on considering its
function that is its economic and totalizing character. He understands madness to be merely one term, in a
constellation of terms that include dreams and error, necessary to interrogate the totality of ideas of sensory
origin. Descartess reference to madness is thus framed by the larger question regarding the danger of
deception that the subject experiences in dreams. Dalia Judovitz, Derrida and Descartes: Economizing
Thought, Derrida and Deconstruction, ed. Hugh Silverman (London: Routledge, 1989) 44.
25
it is not a question of madness in this text, if only to exclude it (CHM,
308, fn 15).
Madness is not silenced. If Descartes no longer talks about it after briefly mentioning it,
it is only because there is no reason to talk specifically about it. He includes it in the
larger issue of sensory error. When he does speak of madness, it is only in a pedagogical
and rhetorical sense. Far from introducing madness itself as a theme, he is imagining a
and says: no, not all sensory knowledge, for then you would be mad and it would be
unreasonable to follow the example of madmen, to put forth the ideas of madmen
(CHM, 50). The example of the madman is introduced and quickly set aside not because
Descartes is dismissing madness, but to appease the natural resistance of Descartess non-
philosopher interlocutor. Descartes can give up the possibility of madness easily because
it is not necessary for his doubting. In fact, he overcomes the interlocutors resistance
with the more radical hypothesis of dreams, which are a hyperbolic version of madness.
Derrida contends that Foucault could accept this reading and still maintain his
overall point. After all, on this reading, madness remains the other of the Cogito: clear
and distinct ideas require being not mad. At the same time, Derrida concedes that
Descartess linking of madness and error neutralizes the originality of madness and
turns it into nothing more than a moral failing. But the separation of madness and
knowledge does not last: Foucaults claim that Descartes dismisses madness makes sense
only at the nave stage of doubt. As the Meditations shift from natural doubt to
metaphysical doubt, total madness takes hold. With the evil genius, Descartes determines
26
that everything related to insanity is admissible. Knowledge can no longer escape
madness.
The second set of questions Derrida puts to Foucault challenges the philosophical
Derrida finds is that Foucault fundamentally misunderstands the nature of his own
project, and inadvertently turns History of Madness into a contradiction of the archeology
of silence. Foucault wants to write a history of madness itself. But such an undertaking,
Derrida warns, is itself mad: who could write such a history? Who could read it? And
how does Foucault avoid speaking for madness from within reason? Any effort to
express or communicate the silence of madness has to come from the sphere of reason
and language and order. Language has started without us, in us and before us. [] In
order to elude this responsibility, to deny it and try to efface it through an absolute
why, Derrida notes, the best spokesmen of the mad inevitably and necessarily betray
them. Language imposes order, and we can only abandon that order if we abandon
unique, and imperial in its grandeur (CHM, 36). Even when one is against it, one is still
But the problems facing Foucaults analysis run deeper, right to the very heart of
Foucault says it is, must it not necessarily stand opposed to any archeology? For Derrida,
22
Jacques Derrida, How to Avoid Speaking: Denials, trans. Ken Frieden, Derrida and Negative
Theology, ed. Harold Coward and Toby Foshay (Albany: SUNY, 1992) 99.
27
archeology is history, and history is a rational concept. Is not subjecting madness to
In any event, the silence imposed on madness by reason, the silence that
argues that according to Foucault, madness and reason have not always represented two
fundamentally opposed states; there was a time prior to the split between madness and
reason when the two were unified. Derrida is following the logic established at the outset
of History of Madness when Foucault writes in the preface that we need to try to
recapture, in history, this degree zero of the history of madness, when it was
undifferentiated experience, the still undivided experience of the division itself (HM,
xxvii).23 According to the logic of this passage and of Foucaults entire book, there must
be a founding unity of reason. Derrida wants Foucault to go back to that zero point and
find the logos that preceded the split between reason and madness. He claims that any
attempt to write a history of the split runs the risk of construing the division as an event
metaphysics in its fundamental operation (CHM, 40). Trying to place the split between
reason and madness within history presupposes a virgin and unitary ground (CHM, 39)
Derrida argues that not only does any attempt to recover the lost origin throw us
back into metaphysics, it is impossible and unnecessary. We cannot get outside of reason
to this prior moment, but we do not have to. The divisionwhat Foucault calls the
23
Note that in the original preface, Foucault is much more careful about his use of the word history and
appears to anticipate Derridas critique of history as a rational structure.
24
Foucaults affirmation of the division of reason from madness involves upholding its status as an event,
one which reinforces an originary ahistorical interpretation of the meaning of reason as an undivided unity,
whose coherence predates any oppositions (Judovitz, 49).
28
Decision and what Derrida prefers to call dissensionmay be found within reason,
interior to logos in general (CHM, 38). The discovery of the Cogito takes us to the
zero point, the impenetrable point of certainty in which the possibility of Foucaults
narration, as well as of the narration of the totality, or rather of all the determined forms
of the exchanges between reason and madness are embedded (CHM, 56). On Derridas
reading, the Cogito is a moment found within reason that precedes the separation of
reason and madness. It is a moment of certainty that escapes the threat of madnessnot
because it is rational enough to overcome and exclude madness, but because it is true
The Cogito is not hostile to madness. It simply avoids the dilemma of madness
and reason. As the zero point, the Cogito is the ungraspable moment, valid only in the
instant of intuition. Thus, the unity of reason and madness exists only at the instant; as
soon as there is any reflection, the Cogito becomes inserted into temporality, which
requires reason. That, according to Derrida, is when we find the internment of madness
in Descartes. Foucault fails to recognize the Cogito as the instant of the Decision because
he takes hold of Descartes either too early (before the shift to radical doubt) or too late
(after the intuitive experience of the Cogito has passed). By limiting it to an historical
structure, he misses the point of the Cogito and does violence to Descartess project. In
fact, Foucaults project threatens Descartes with the same kind of totalitarianism he finds
Derrida maintains that his reading aligns with Foucaults. The difference is that
he separates the historical from the hyperbolic within the Cogito. He finds the historicity
of Descartess philosophy situated within the structural gap between the finitethe
29
ongoing intellectual exercise of which the Cogito is a partand the hyperbolicthe
moment in which the fundamental truth of the Cogito is intuitively grasped. The
hyperbolic is the absolute opening, the uneconomic expenditure, that is always overcome
by economy. Descartes can throw himself into a state of total madness, but the state
cannot last.
Foucaults explicit response to Derrida, the essay My Body, This Paper, This Fire, was
not published until 1972. However, about six months after Derrida delivered his paper at
Batailles attempts to undermine the Hegelian dialectic. For Bataille, the act of
transgression replaces the movement of the dialectic and the question of the limit replaces
the search for totality. The interaction between a transgressive act and its limits is never
dialectical. The clearest instance of this for Bataille is eroticism: sexuality is an inventive
response to the restrictions placed on our own animal instincts. Taboos impose
restrictions; they organize a form of behavior while at the same time restricting it. Even
as an act transgresses a taboo, it reinforces that limit and makes it more prominent.
Rather than shattering the limits, subsuming what is there, and producing a synthesis of
taboo and transgression, transgression leaves the limit intact, which allows for the
Transgressive acts allow us to experience limits, but such acts are not the opposite
of or victory over limits. Limits are the space in which transgression can occur; without
the limit, there would be nothing to transgress. Transgression is what Foucault calls a
30
nonpositive affirmation (PT, 36). It is the affirmation of difference qua division. It
affirms what lies on both sides of the limitbeing and the unlimited, the permitted and
the forbiddenwhile establishing the interplay of being and its limit. It is non-positive
because no value is given to the limited or unlimited; all that remains is the limit as the
presents Batailles thinking as both a foil to Hegel and as a rebuttal to the Cartesian
project. As such, one can see Foucault using Bataille as a stalking horse for his response
nothing is more alien to the experience of the demonic character who, true to his being,
denies everything (PT, 37). The obvious reference to Descartess evil genius recalls
Derridas telling us that Descartess project is mad, not human, but is rather
metaphysical and demonic: it first awakens to itself in its war with the demon, the evil
doubt, Bataille constantly affirms existence and values, not by positing them, but by
taking them to their limits. This experience is beyond the reach of dialectical thinking
and its reliance on contradiction. But we have been lulled into dialectical thinking, which
confines us to questioning the movement between contradiction and totality; it takes our
attention away from the interplay of being and its limits. Nietzsche has already called our
25
Batailles anti-Hegelianism is certainly not beside the point. Derrida characterizes History of Madness as
operating according to a Hegelian law (CHM, 36).
31
Foucault claims that it is because we cling to the idea that language must be
unhinged and loses its discursive function. It has no center and is meant only for
dialectical language. Where the dialectic is the form and interior movement of
This experience forms the exact reversal of the movement which has
sustained the wisdom of the West at least since the time of Socrates, that
is, the wisdom to which philosophical language promised the serene unity
of a subjectivity which would triumph in it, having been fully constituted
by it and through it. But if the language of philosophy is one in which the
philosophers torments are tirelessly repeated and his subjectivity is
discarded, then not only is wisdom meaningless as the philosophers form
of composition and reward, but in the expiration of philosophical language
a possibility inevitably arises: the possibility of the mad philosopher. In
short, the experience of the philosopher who finds, not outside his
language (the result of an external accident or imaginary exercise), but at
the inner core of its possibilities, the transgression of his philosophical
being; and thus the non-dialectical language of the limit which only arises
in transgressing the one who speaks (PT, 43-44).
Language, pace Derrida, is not always already rational. Philosophical language claims
access to wisdom for itself; but if we push this language to its limits, we find that it
breaks down. The subject constituted by this language transgresses his own limits and
finds madness. While in Derridas reading, Descartes finds the madness of the Cogito at
the inner core of his language, this language remains firmly within the subject whose
subjectivity is never discarded, only reinforced. Foucault will argue in My Body, This
Paper, This Fire that the meditating subject never succumbs to the madness of the
Cogito. Descartess text themselves [show] that the episode of the evil genius is a
voluntary, controlled exercise, mastered and carried out from start to finish by a
meditating subject who never lets himself be surprised (BPF, 414). Everything that
32
could be other is rendered the same by the rational and equally cunning subject. Madness
and philosophy do not merge with Descartes. He is too embedded in the philosophical
tradition that ascribes authority and sovereignty to the subject. It will only be with
Bataille that madness and philosophy become linked, and this is only because Bataille is
shattering of the subject, not merely the collapse of the subjects world la Descartes.
On this reading, one can see Foucaults challenge to Derrida directly. Derrida
argues that the hyperbolic nature of Descartess project resists totality; Foucaults
mistake was to ignore the hyperbolic and focus only on the historical. For Foucault, this
hyperbolic doubt remains within the totalizing sphere of the subject. Derrida fails to
recognize this because he belongs to this tradition of the unity of language. Derridas
reading is a
pedagogy that teaches the pupil there is nothing outside the text, but that in
it, in its gaps, its blanks and its silences, there reigns the reserve of the
origin; that it is therefore unnecessary to search elsewhere, but that here,
not in the words, certainly, but in the words under erasure, in their grid,
the sense of being is said. A pedagogy that gives conversely to the
masters voice the limitless sovereignty that allows it to restate the text
indefinitely (BPF, 416).
Derrida has not yet given up the dream of sovereignty, even if the sovereignty he posits
opens up infinite possibilities. The master remains in control of language. The need for
this control is why classical readings of Descartes fail to grasp the significance of the
passage on madness, and it is why Derrida fails to grasp it. It is not a lack of attention.
The commentators have not simply skipped it in their haste to get to the discussion of
dreams. It is systemic (BPF, 416). The classical tradition systematically reduces events
in a text to textual traces; it silences voices even as it invents voices behind texts to
33
avoid having to analyze the modes of implication of the subject in discourses (BPF,
normalization. Foucault allows for greater freedom because he recognizes the lack of
A non-dialectical language allows for divisions within the subject, for multiple voices
that cannot be dominated and silenced. These voices are allowed to continue speaking.
They cannot be overcome the way the disciple overcomes the inner voice of the master;
they cannot be manipulated the way Descartes (on Derridas reading) placates the voice
of the nonphilosopher within his meditation by appearing to put aside madness. Non-
without having to succumb to the totality of reason. In fact, it allows him to turn the
charge of totalizing thought back on Derrida and to argue that Derridas reading of
approach. But he has not addressed the more methodological issues that Derrida raises
34
concerning archeology. In the next chapter, we will take a closer look at Foucaults
methods and his own attempts to explain them. We will then turn to Derridas own
methods to show that Foucaults charges of normalization are unfounded, and that both
men are developing forms of thought that consciously struggle against the inherent
35
Chapter 2: Foucaults Methods
first glance to be structured around binary divisionsinclusion and exclusion, the mad
and the rational, the same and the other. But Foucaults writings on transgression show
that he was clearly aware such dualisms are not so neatly delimited. Transgression
introduces an element that alters this structure, presenting us with the ternary schema
irreducible third element that, while refusing accommodation within the structure of
inclusion, was unable to be banished from the territory which that structure enclosed.1 It
is what allows for the possibility of dialogue between these two realms even as it affirms
their separation. In History of Madness, the artist who moves between reason and
madness is the transgressive figure. Nietzsche, Artaud, Goya, Sade, Van Goghthese
artists ultimately succumb to madness and silence, but prior to that moment, they are able
to stand within the space of the limit separating reason and madness. This is what allows
them to speak in a new way. But it is also what threatens their work: There is only
madness as the last instant of the uvrefor the uvre indefinitely repels madness to its
outer limits. Where there is an uvre, there is no madness: and yet madness is
contemporaneous with the uvre, as it is the harbinger of the time of its truth (HM,
537). Once madness takes hold, these artists find themselves on the other side of the
limit, cut off from reason, and therefore no longer artists.2 Transgression has then given
way to exclusion.
1
Todd May, Between Genealogy and Epistemology: Psychology, Politics, and Knowledge in the Thought
of Michel Foucault (University Park: Pennsylvania State University, 1993) 13-14.
2
Caputo points out that Foucaults claim that madness produces only silence intimates an awareness on his
part that there is no access to a pure madness or unreason, to a pure, ante-historical essence of
36
Transgression allows one to break free of the sphere of repetition, to walk up to
the very edge of the horizon of experience. However, we cannot step outside of our
fundamental horizon and see the world sub specie aeternitatis. There is no Cartesian
Archimedean point from which to move the world. More problematic, not only can we
not step outside of our fundamental horizon, but in trying to do so, we bring what was
outside into that horizon of experience. In showing us something new, the artist, for
example, consigns that experience to the sphere of the same. And as Derrida shows, the
rational person trying to understand the experience of the mad cannot extricate herself
from rationality and in trying to do so draws madness into the sphere of reason.
The challenge for both Foucault and Derrida is to think otherwise by transgressing
the totalizing systems of thought and thereby to discover what has remained unthought,
all while remaining within the confines and limits of our constructed forms of life. We
have to begin where we are and with a careful examination of the limits of our
experience. Both Foucault and Derrida begin with critiques of the present in order to
understand what options it makes available, what kinds of limits it imposes, and how
those limits may be transgressed. Their critiques illustrate the fundamental differences in
their strategies, but the goal of these strategies is the same: to understand the inherent
possibilities of the present and to uncover ways of thinking that are not (yet) part of the
This chapter will examine the methods comprising Foucaults history of the
present and his strategies for tracing the contingencies and sudden shifts that have led to
the current systems in which we find ourselves. This history is not a conventional history
madness. John D. Caputo, More Radical Hermeneutics: On Not Knowing Who We Are (Bloomington:
Indiana University, 2000) 25. The resources for a different response to Derridas critique are, in other
words, already present in History of Madness.
37
because such an approach, Foucault shows, is fraught with normalizing and metaphysical
baggage. Nor is this history a hermeneutics (especially after History of Madness): the
past is not the key unlocking the presents secrets. Studying the past reveals the
contingent nature of the present, and Foucaults history of the present offers us no origins
or teleologies, only endless possibility; what we learn from this history is that the present
is not an historical inevitability. These methods also lay the groundwork for
the presenton what has been sacrificed for this present and on the possibilities inherent
in it. Without studying the past, these limitations would be otherwise unrecognizable to
the method that informs Foucaults earlier work and provides the conceptual tools for
understanding the rules and practices that define a field of knowledge. I will then turn to
an explanation of the genealogical method, which runs counter to traditional history and,
in so doing, manifests the possibilities of endless interpretation. Finally, I will look at the
later essay What is Enlightenment? in which Foucault succinctly thematizes the nature
of critical ontology. With this as our foundation, we will be prepared for the examination
Archeology
doctors in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.3 These accounts relied on humors
3
See History of Madness, part 2, chapter 3.
38
and nervous diseases to explain madness, but these explanations are not simply early,
appears in the nineteenth century had neither the same content, nor the same internal
organization, nor the same place in medicine, nor the same practical function, nor the
same methods as the traditional chapter on diseases of the head or nervous diseases to
evolving medical knowledge borne out of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. In
fact, psychiatry lacked the elements necessary to be considered valid during these earlier
periods. Willis and Dufour would have seen no line of descent between their accounts of
brains dried and desiccated by mania and the diagnoses psychiatry offers. So where did
psychiatrys validity come from? What changed so that this discourse could emerge? As
Foucault shows, what changed were the configurations in which medical discourse was
situated:
unrelated to psychiatrycome into contact and create the right conditions for such a
4
Michel Foucault, The Archeology of Knowledge and the Discourse on Language, trans. Alan Sheridan
(New York: Pantheon, 1972) 179. Hereafter abbreviated in the text as AK.
39
discourse. The legal, moral, social, and medical forms of knowledge create the
possibility of a psychiatric discourse in the same way that the Great Confinement came
about when various social forces combined and focused their attention on the mad.
Foucaults archeological method traces these points of contact and shows the relative
beginnings, the accidental and unnoticed (but not invisible) relationssuch as the
and examining its previous manifestations in order to track down its historical sources.
An intellectual historian interested in particle physics, for example, might work her way
back to Democritus speculations about atoms. A study of musical tuning systems might
compare contemporary systems with the varied efforts of Renaissance and Classical
composers. Archeology, on the other hand, has as its object not the progression of a
Understanding how new ideas and practices appear requires an analytical distance that
erases certain distinctions: theory and practice are treated equally; the traditional
5
Michel Foucault. Foucault Live, trans. John Johnston, ed. Sylvre Lotringer (New York: Semiotext(e),
1989) 46. Hereafter abbreviated in the text as FL.
6
Shumway describes archeologyglibly, perhaps, but not incorrectlyas the history of ideas without
ideas and without history. David Shumway, Michel Foucault, (Charlottesville: University of Virginia,
1989) 98.
7
Charles C. Lemert and Garth Gillan, Michel Foucault: Social Theory and Transgression (New York:
Columbia University Press, 1982) 43.
40
boundaries between disciplines break down (FL, 3, 18). Archeology thus treats specific
forms of thought, from the most abstract idea to the most unreflective and inarticulate
practice, only as discursive formations. While at first blush this seems reductive,
discourse.
Rejecting the idea that background practices and beliefs make linguistic practices
intelligible, archeology shifts the focus away from why those in a given field said or did
something; it focuses solely on what they said and did (FL, 46).9 It simply analyzes
statements as statements, rendering the languages and practices within them meaningless
But the goal of archeology is not pure description. Specific forms of thinking,
uncovers the historical conditions that produce this system. These historical conditions,
which Foucault calls savoir, are the unconscious laws underlying all social practices and
8
Niels kerstrm Andersen, Discursive Analytical Strategies: Understanding Foucault, Koselleck, Laclau,
Luhmann (Bristol: Policy Press, 2003) 10-11.
9
Hubert Dreyfus and Paul Rabinow, Foucault: Beyond Structuralism and Hermeneutics, 2nd ed (Chicago:
University of Chicago, 1983) 57.
41
unconscious laws are the rules of formation that determine the validity of a given
historical periodsis based on formal atemporal structures, what Foucault calls the
archive:
The archive defines the system and space in which a given statement can function. It
determines how what is said and done gets organized; it establishes the relations and
Foucault tries to determine the types of discursive practices that appear, the relationships
that exist between different discursive practices, the relationships between discursive and
nondiscursive practices, and the transformations these practices undergo. (We cannot
describe our own archive because it is governing the way in which we could describe it; it
makes what we can say possible and therefore cannot be gotten outside of to see it in its
totality.) So, for example, no discourse about mentally ill persons could have appeared
during the Middle Ages (because there were no mentally ill persons), just as there
could be no psychiatric discourse until the nineteenth century (because there were no
The archive also determines how what is said withdraws from use, i.e., how
certain forms of discourse lose their explanatory power and give way to new forms.
10
May, 29.
42
Once a system is altered, a discourse ceases to be meaningful. It might certainly be
repeated, but it no longer has any function. In The Birth of the Clinic, Foucault repeats
Pommes description of his cure for a hysterical woman, but because it no longer
operates in a functioning discursive system, the description simply makes no sense to us;
we do not know what to do with it.11 The rules of formation governing medical discourse
have changed, and changed so radically that there is no longer any commonality between
Here we see another crucial difference between history and archeology. For
conventional history, gaps and differences suggest an error in the historical account; they
imply that something has not been accounted for. And if there is no historical continuity,
there can be no teleology. Archeology accepts the discontinuity of the past: gaps suggest
something else, viz. the contingency of historical events. Rejecting teleological and
continuous history, archeology seeks rather to untie all those knots that historians have
patiently tied; it increases differences, blurs the lines of communication, and tries to make
it more difficult to pass from one thing to another (AK, 170). Whiggish histories find
turning point in the treatment of the insane and introduced modern psychiatry; the
Physiocratic analyses of production paved the way for Ricardo. But this approach works
only by ignoring gaps and differences. As Foucault shows in The Birth of the Clinic,
tremendous changes appear in the course of a hundred years, but it was really only in the
space of twenty-five years (1790-1815) that medical discourse changed more than it ever
had in its prior manifestations. Obviously, the practice of medicine changes quickly and
11
Michel Foucault, The Birth of the Clinic: An Archeology of Medical Perception, trans. A.M. Sheridan
Smith (New York: Vintage, 1994) ix-x.
43
dramatically as medical science introduces new technology. But what Foucault is
describing is more fundamental: what changed during this twenty-five year period was
the very way nature of medical perception, a change that ushered in a new perceptual
grid, and an almost entirely new descriptive vocabulary; new sets of concepts and
nosographical distributions (AK, 170). The entire field was transformed, and it is the
task of the archeologist to understand and describe these differences, not describe them
away.
The outcome of this archeological approach, then, is the loss of our own
complacent belief that our understanding of the world is objectively true and that this
understanding is the pinnacle of an inexorable drive to the truth. Dreyfus and Rabinow
point out that while we might find Pommes description of his cure bizarre and risible, we
must also confront the fact that Pomme was convinced of the objective truth of his
description. He was as sure of the truth of his observation as todays doctors are of
theirs. But if Pommes view was at one time regarded as a serious, viable, and objective
account, we must question the seriousness, viability, and objectivity of the truths that
current medical science provides us. This is the effect of archeology: Foucaults strategy
forces us take an ironic position toward our own belief.12 We begin to see the historical
nature of the present, we begin to realize that other forms of the present were possible.
Different combinations of practices would have produced different forms of life; there is
nothing necessary about the one we have. By rejecting continuous history, by accepting
the gaps and sudden shifts, archeology is able to open up regions of interpositivity,
12
Dreyfus and Rabinow, ibid., 13.
44
those points of contact between disparate fields and practices. We are no longer confined
to one particular account but can connect disparate discourses. Moreover, every
discursive formation does not belong (necessarily, at least) to only one of these systems,
but enters simultaneously into several fields of relations, in which it does not occupy the
particular field. The problem with the view that events comprise a continuous and
teleological flow is that it presupposes an inherent unity to events, but this requires some
kind of transcendental guarantee for this unity. For modernity, that guarantee has been
the subject:
In this case, the teleological understanding of history and the transcendentalism of the
providing the unifying function for a field of knowledge: the speaker is only part of the
system of discursive practice.13 Instead, only the rules of formation unify statements by
determining how and what statements can be formed within a field, and as Foucaults
truth.
13
From an archaeological vantage point, the subjectis itself no more than an historical product of
discourse and can no longer hide the perpetually moving discursive dimension that both founds it and
disperses it. Karlis Racevskis, Michel Foucault and the Subversion of the Intellect (Ithaca: Cornell
University Press, 1983) 80.
45
Genealogy
As Foucault becomes less interested in attacking humanist histories, he shifts his focus to
emphasizing the role of power within forms of life, be they discursive formations or
practices. An understanding of power was not absent in his archeological work, but it
was not thematized. However, by the time he wrote the Archaeology of Knowledge, he
saw that power and knowledge were inherently related (AK, 27). The shift, therefore,
from archeology to genealogy is not a methodological break but the introduction of a set
local discursivities, and genealogy would be the tactics whereby, on the basis of the
descriptions of these local discursivities, the subjected knowledges which were thus
explain our practices and forms of life and reveals their contingency. Genealogy, like
archeology, sees history as constituted by gaps and disruptions, but it uses these
narratives that proclaim the inevitability of their subject and reveals points of weakness
or areas that allow for reinterpretation.15 What one finds are other forms of knowledge
and other forms of life that have hitherto been subjugated. In liberating these subjugated
14
Michel Foucault, Power/Knowledge: Selected Interviews and Other Writings (1972-1977), ed. Colin
Gordon, trans. Colin Gordon, et al (New York: Pantheon, 1980) 85. Hereafter abbreviated in the text as
PK.
15
John S. Ransom, Foucaults Discipline: The Politics of Subjectivity (Durham: Duke University Press,
1997) 87.
46
with the perspective necessary to bring the power relations that have thus far constituted
us as subjects into relief (although such awareness, as we will see in subsequent chapters,
is only temporary). The difficulty of genealogical accounts is that while we are to make
use of this newly liberated knowledge, genealogy provides us with neither the
foundational elements of our current condition nor recommendations for using this
to disrupt commonly held conceptions about events and social practices rather than to
So how does the genealogical method work? Foucault defines genealogy as the
union of erudite knowledge and local memories which allows us to establish a historical
knowledge of struggles and to make use of this knowledge tactically today (PK, 83). By
breaking this definition up into its three major components, we will be able to get a clear
what we are. This is what Nietzsche called monumental historyhistory that confirms
works, actions, and creations through the monogram of their personal essence.17 These
causal accounts can and do disagree over the weight and import of particular forces and
their outcomes, but the role of historyto tell us the story of ourselves (or of other
16
Barry Smart, Michel Foucault (London: Routledge, 2002) 62.
17
Michel Foucault, Nietzsche, Genealogy, History, Language, Counter-Memory, Practice: Selected
Essays and Interviews, 161. Hereafter abbreviated in the text as NGH.
47
cultures or practices)is understood as a given: it offers a suprahistorical perspective.
The traditional historian believes he stands outside of time and views history in its totality
seamless account because it relies on constant elements that persist even as things appear
to change. But such a perspective is achieved only by reducing the differences and
diversity of time into a totality fully closed upon itself (NGH, 152). As Foucault
narrative, differences have to be suppressed; gaps and outliers threaten any account.
perspective, recognizing that his approach is based on his own perspective. This
perspective shows that there are no absolutes or constants obtaining throughout history:
even his bodyis sufficiently stable to serve as the basis for self-recognition or for
understanding other men (NGH, 153). History for the genealogist becomes effective
rather than monumental. By focusing on and accepting the role of the unstable and
significance. The genealogist examines singular events, things that appear to be without
history, such as feelings or instincts, or things that have been approached in prescribed
ways, e.g. the body. Foucault acknowledges in Discipline and Punish that there have
been histories of the body written, but no one has paid attention to the political
investment of the body.18 The events the genealogist studies are not unities; they are a
18 18
Michel Foucault, Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison, trans. Alan Sheridan (New York:
Vintage, 1979) 25-26. Hereafter abbreviated in the text as DP.
48
series of positions that change over time. And their continual development precludes any
possibility of stability in the self or in a life (NGH, 154). But these elements comprise
subjugated knowledges that are the latent historical contents in a system of thought and
that when found reveal the struggles and conflicts masked by that system (PK, 81-82).
They are the marginal elements that genealogy fastens onto to show the inhibiting effects
recognizes the randomness of and the forces at work within an event. An event is not
a decision, a treaty, a reign, or a battle, but the reversal of a relationship of forces, the
usurpation of power, the appropriation of a vocabulary turned against those who had once
used it, a feeble domination that poisons itself as it grows lax, the entry of a masked
elements, believing that things such as treaties or decisions made by actors tell us
something about origins, and that we can trace the progressive movement of history back
by following these elements. But this misses the true nature of historical events. An
event is a shift in power relations that occasions discontinuity at various levels and allows
a new form of life or set of practices to emerge. It is the advent of something new: new
For the genealogist, the search for origins constitutes a search for essences with its
concomitant assumption that one can uncover the apriori fixed form of things. The idea
of origins clings to the idea of a primordial truth. The genealogist, on the other hand,
discovers that there is no essence to things; there is no primordial truth. Nor are there any
49
pure origins. Monumental history presents origins as all-too-fleeting moments of pristine
existenceAdam and Eve communing with God in the garden, the souls direct contact
with the Forms. In these myths, the origin is the site of truth and purity that cannot hold:
it is invariably lost. The soul forgets its encounter with the Forms. Adam and Eve are
banished. Consequently, the origin produces the task of recovering itself. Retrieving this
lost origin, we believe, will get us back to the truth. But this is, Foucault tells us, just a
myth. In fact, historical beginnings are lowly: not in the sense of modest or discreet like
the steps of a dove, but derisive and ironic, capable of undoing every infatuation (NGH,
143). Far from being pure, the beginnings of things are always out of disparity (NGH,
142). The essence of things is, it turns out, nothing more than a conglomeration of alien
forms. Genealogy uses history, then, not to retrieve this past but to undermine the myth
of origins and to show these lowly and modest beginnings (NGH, 143-144).
Rejecting any pure origin or essence as its object, genealogy takes Herkunft,
descent, and Entstehung, emergence, as its objects. The first, Herkunft, is the group or
type one is bound to, whether through blood relations or class relations. Far from
dwelling on the common denominators of those falling into a specific type, the study of
descent ignores generic traits and seeks out the intersection of individual characteristics.
In doing so, it undercuts the claims to a unified and coherent identity by showing that any
such identity is only the synthesis of disparate events. The search for descent is not the
immobile; it fragments what was thought unified; it shows the heterogeneity of what was
imagined consistent with itself (NGH, 147). The object of descent is the body because it
is the body, after all, that records events on its surface. But it is also the body that acts as
50
the point of unity for the self, even as it is a volume of perpetual disintegration, and
remains linked to its origin (NGH, 145-148). The soul, the modern self, Foucault tells us
in Discipline and Punish, is produced permanently around, on, within the body by the
functioning of a power that is exercised on those punished (DP, 29). The micro-physics
of power operate on the body, producing a specific type of body, which in turn produces
the self.19
The second object for genealogy is Entstehung, emergence or what Foucault calls
appears in history. The development of humanity, Foucault tells us, is only a series of
interpretations, and the role of genealogy is to record its history: the history of morals,
ideals, and metaphysical concepts []; as they stand for the emergence of different
interpretations, they must be made to appear as events on the stage of historical process
(NGH, 152). The genealogy of emergence focuses on these emerging interpretations and
their associated forms of domination within history. However, this emergence must not
be mistaken for the telos of historical development: to claim that our purposes are the true
purposes of what has emerged presupposes a metaphysical claim about the origins of
things, viz. that those purposes have always been latent and were present at the origin,
and only now are those purposes being realized. In fact, what appears has had other
purposes and intentions that at other times appeared equally final. What has developed
may appear as a culmination, but they are merely the current episodes in a series of
51
By analyzing emergence, genealogy analyzes how forces interact and what these
forces give rise to. So, for example, a certain practice emerges only after struggling
against other practices. In Discipline and Punish, Foucault traces the shifting attitudes
toward punishment, showing how imprisonment, which had been considered only a
minor and infrequently used tool of punishment, gradually became the universal practice
in punitive systems. Other methods were proposed and tried but failed to get established.
Entstehung, then, designates a site of confrontation between forms of life, although this is
not a balanced struggle between equally matched adversaries. This site is a non-place,
i.e., it is merely the distance between combatants, and the site of perpetual, and
perpetually shifting, domination. Therefore, what emerges in this confrontation is not the
result of any intentional or conscious direction; the struggle for domination is merely a
series of chance confrontations. There is no grand design at work. Nor can anyone claim
While these confrontations are the products of chance, they are always between
forms of domination that rely on rituals and rules to fix their position. But these rules are
not laws that govern or temper the violence inherent in confrontations (NGH, 151).
Violence exists within a system of rules that are impersonal and adaptable; successthe
establishment of a new form of lifelies in seizing the rules and using them against the
German Catholicism because it was there that the people had the strength to turn the rules
of the Church on itself and harness its own internal forces to spiritualize itself into a
52
this way, interpretation itself becomes the appropriation of a system of rules, not the
confusion about who we are supposed to be, history has always been called on to supply
prototypes for us to identify with and substitute identities for us to assume: the leaders of
the American Revolution saw themselves in Roman figures; current historians draw
parallels between America in the twenty-first century and Athens in the Periclean Age.
But monumental history can provide these prototypes and substitutions only by
presupposing and appealing to constant elements: feelings, for instance, are assumed to
influences the present just as it did the past; the body is believed to obey exclusive laws
Washington and Nathan Hale believed they recognized themselves in Cato since,
knowing what they felt and what their instincts told them, they could be certain Catos
The genealogist does not simply dismiss these substitute identities. Rather, he
shows them for what they are, viz. disguises, ephemeral props that point to our own
unreality (NGH, 160). The problem with monumental history is not that it misleads us
into accepting inauthentic identities; it is that it limits the identities available to us and
presents us with only a few select and appropriate options. This approach is perhaps
most clearly seen in History of Madness: modern psychiatry tries to locate itself in the
53
history of psychiatric treatment, but it can do so only by ignoring alternative
interpretations and alternative identities. What Foucault shows is that the historical
progenitors psychiatrists lay claim to are only one set of identities that could be
assumed.20 The genealogist views these identities ironically, pushing the substitutions
further and thus undermining the recollective power of history. If we have limitless
possibilities and countless identities to choose from, if genealogy is history in the form
of a concerted carnival, why should we believe there are true historical precedents
(NGH, 161)?
course of providing us with identities and analogies with which we can define ourselves,
history is also understood to be providing us with a tradition that establishes a clear idea
about who we are and where we have come from. This is antiquarian history, which
seeks out continuities of soil, language, and urban life in which our present is rooted
(NGH, 162). These continuities pre-empt any attempts to create or re-create ourselves
because they impose on us notions of fidelity and obligations to venerate this origin and
For the genealogist, once history becomes parody, identity loses its veneer of
systems which, masked by the self, inhibit the formation of any form of identity (NGH,
162). We discover that our identities are not coherent and seamless wholes; were
constituted by discontinuous elements. These elements each have their own history, and
each one comprises numerous intersecting and competing systems. Thus genealogy
20
Andersen, 19.
54
destroys not only the reality of our historically formed identity; it destroys the notion of
identity entirely.
are told, by a scientific consciousness striving to remain neutral. However, the truth
history uncovers is not an objective or universal truth, despite its claims to be so. Far
from being neutral, the will to knowledge drives traditional history; consequently, this
history is guided by
The truth and knowledge history discovers, and the subject this knowledge produces, are
products of this will to knowledge. Genealogy, on the other hand, teaches us that,
without any tradition to define us and without any coherent identity to preserve, we are
free to experiment on ourselves. We must forgo the critique of past injustices by some
present truth. And it is genealogy that offers us the tools to undercut the notions of truth
and knowledge that persist through the injustice of the will to knowledge. Genealogy
resists the totalizing tendency that accompanies any efforts to hierarchize and centralize
What is Enlightenment?
Archeology and genealogy give us ways to approach the past in ways that avoid the
totalizing thinking of traditional history. What they reveal is the contingency of the
present, and this revelation opens up new possibilities of thinking about ourselves. We
55
do not have to simply accept modernity as the necessary consequence of the past, nor do
we have to subscribe to the view that there is some authentic way of being we must
discover and remain true to. Instead, thought is able to question itself, its origins, and its
possibilities. The ability to reconceptualize where we are and where we are going is
always available. In fact, what Foucault discovers is that far from being a rejection of the
it. As he shows in What is Enlightenment?, Kant was already asking these very
questions.21
In 1784, Kant wrote a response to the question What is Enlightenment? for the
Berlinische Monatschrift. In this short piece, Kant poses a new problem by turning the
question into a reflection on the present. This certainly was not unique to Kant, but his
approach was different: this is the first time anyone questioned rational thought about not
just its nature and foundation, but also about its immediate past and its present reality; as
to its time and its place.22 Foucault points out that this kind of philosophical work aims
for two mutually reinforcing objectives: it is the search for the point at which Western
rationality becomes autonomous and sovereign; and it is an analysis of the present and its
relation to the founding act, whether that relation is one of rediscovery, taking up a
This text is both a critical reflection and a reflection on history. What Kant offers us is a
21
What is Enlightenment? tracks a ragged line of descent from Kant to all of Foucaults own themes: a
mode of relationship that has to be established with oneself, what the Greeks called an ethos, a
desperate eagerness to imagine [the present] otherwise than it is, and to transform itall these, Foucault
asserts, are firmly rooted in the Enlightenment. Geoffrey Galt Harpham, SoWhat is
Enlightenment? An Inquisition into Modernity, Critical Inquiry 20.3 (Spring, 1994): 533.
22
Michel Foucault, Introduction to The Normal and the Pathological, by Georges Canguilheim, trans.
Carolyn R. Fawcett (New York: Zone Books, 1989) 9.
23
Ibid., 10.
56
critical ontology, a way of responding to ones time. He questions the possibility of
thinking about the present when we are part of that present ourselves. This way of
approaching the present had not yet been addressed in philosophical reflection. Until
Kant, some special trait or event differentiated the present from other eras; or the present
transition to a new world. Kants view of the present bypasses these forms and asks how
the present introduces difference; it is this that makes Kants effort unique: It is in the
Presenting a new problem, Kant casts the question in an original, albeit negative,
way: he defines Enlightenment as an Ausgang, as an escape from the present. The escape
from the present is necessary because we are in a state of immaturity: we accept external
authority when we should use our own reason. Instead of relying on our own
a spiritual director. Kantian maturity does not entail the wholesale rejection of external
authority. The problem is not with books or spiritual directors, but with our blind
obedience to them. Maturity for Kant is both obedience and the use of reason.
relations between our will, our use of reason, and external authority. Kant believes that
we are responsible for our immaturity; therefore, we are responsible for extricating
ourselves from it. In this way, finding our way out of immaturity is both an ongoing
24
Michel Foucault, What is Enlightenment? Ethics : Subjectivity and Truth, Essential Works of Foucault,
1954-1984, Volume 1., ed. Paul Rabinow, trans. Robert Hurley (New York: New Press, 1998) 309.
Hereafter abbreviated in the text as WIE.
57
Kant delineates two conditions for escaping immaturity. First, we must
distinguish the realm of obedience from the realm of the use of reason. Properly
distinguishing these two realms allows us to perform our specific duties while reasoning
freely about the larger contexts in which we perform those duties. If we were in a state of
maturity, we would pay our taxes because it is our duty, but we would also argue about
the inequities of the tax code. We would abstain from using illegal drugs while being
critical of the governments drug policy. Second, we must distinguish between the public
use of reason and private use of reason. By adding this distinction to the first, Kant is
differentiating his view from traditional arguments for freedom of conscience that argue
one should be able to think what one wants provided one does what one must. In fact, he
is arguing the opposite. In our private use of reason, Kant tells us, we must act as a cog
in a machine: particular rules and particular ends circumscribe our social roles, and our
use of reason must be directed toward these ends. In our private affairs, then, reason
cannot be free. In the public use of reason, however, we should be able to reason freely,
Enlightenment, therefore, entails the conflation of the universal, the free, and the
public use of reason. But ensuring the public use of reason turns Enlightenment into a
political problem: if it is the moment when humanity puts its reason to use without
define the legitimate uses of reason in determining what can be known and what must be
And it is in the struggle to resolve this problem, that modernity produces its ethos.
Part of this ethos of modernity is the mode of relation with oneself. There is within
58
modernity an attitude of asceticism that denies the view of the self as being at the mercy
of constant temporal flux. Instead, the self is an object of elaboration; the goal is to
invent oneself, not discover hidden truths. By shifting his focus away from the use of
reason and toward the self, Foucault is emphasizing not the Kant of the three Critiques,
the Kant who questions the conditions of the possibility of knowledge, but the Kant of the
simultaneously a continuation of the Kantian project and a break with it. He captures this
side of Kant by thematizing the historical subject while rejecting the question of the
Such heroization does not make the present something sacred or to be preserved;
nor does it reduce our stance toward it to that of the spectator. The spectator, the easily
satisfied and complacent flaneur, is nothing more than an aesthete passively collecting
the curiosities and novelties produced by the fleeting moment. Baudelaire contrasts such
a person with the man of modernity who engages the present by heroizing it ironically.
By taking an ironic stance toward the present, an individual is able to find the poetic in it.
For the attitude of modernity, the high value of the present is indissociable
from a desperate eagerness to imagine it, to imagine it otherwise than it is,
and to transform it not by destroying it but by grasping it in what it is.
Baudelairean modernity is an exercise in which extreme attention to what
is real is confronted with the practice of a liberty that simultaneously
respects this reality and violates it (WIE, 311).
25
Harpham, 532-533.
59
The spectator is satisfied with looking; he is a pure aesthete. The man of modernity
contrarily transfigures the world while at the same time respecting it. Modernity grasps
the present even as it imagines it otherwise. This is most obvious in modernist painters
such as Manet and Courbet who heroized the ordinary, not out of some sentimental belief
in the common person but out of a recognition that art had the power to transform the
ordinary.
self as an object of elaboration, which requires inventing oneself rather than discovering
some hidden true self. With modernity, there is no true self to be liberated; there is only a
self to be produced. The recognition of our ability to transform the present moment is
integral to escaping the social immaturity that Foucault sees plaguing our age, viz. our
subjectivity is a given, not something that must be attained. Maturity for Foucault can be
achieved only through this heroic and ironic stance toward ones present; the modern
Archeology and genealogy, as we have noted, provide ways of turning this ironic
stance into methods by which we can engage the present. They also provide us
26
Herbert Dreyfus and Paul Rabinow, What is Maturity? Habermas and Foucault on What is
Enlightenment? Foucault: A Critical Reader, ed. David Couzens Hoy (Cambridge: Blackwell, 1996) 117.
60
minded seriousness that is in sole possession of the truth and an anything-goes
What Foucault wants to show in this quick sketch is that the Enlightenment is a
ethos that endures today. This ethos is a limit-attitude, and criticism gives us the tools to
reflect upon those limits. Kants critique sought the necessary limits of knowledge and
found them in the universal and obligatory. Foucault is working from the transformative
ethos described by Baudelaire and the critical reflection of Kant to produce a more
transgression: I shall thus characterize the philosophical ethos appropriate to the critical
thus as work carried out by ourselves upon ourselves as free beings (WIE, 316).
is an historical investigation into the ways in which we constitute ourselves. The critique
of the present shows us that the modes of domination that govern our self-creation are
contingent; we are therefore able to go beyond the limits. But doing so requires a careful
and thorough analytic of power. The analytics Foucault proffers will show just how the
these relations organize practices and forms of life in rational and homogeneous ways.
61
Chapter 3: The Method of Deconstruction: Derrida on Marx
And like Foucault, he thinks that the hallmarks of the Enlightenmentprivileging reason,
focusing on the autonomous subject, searching for Truthhave thus far led us down
wants to move beyond the Enlightenment critique by turning its critical methods back
onto the Enlightenment itself. The Enlightenment accorded reason pride of place;
Derrida wants to show that such privileging suppresses other forms of thought. The
Enlightenment posited the idea of natural rights grounded in a rational subjectan idea
still with us; Derrida wants to show that our right is the right to respond to the other. The
Derrida wants to show that these two forms of thought are necessarily intermingled.
Re-styling the Enlightenment does not entail giving up the Enlightenment ideals:
Derrida is not renouncing the ideal of democracy and emancipation. He is, he tells us,
trying to think it and put it to work otherwise.1 This critique is meant to unleash those
elements the Enlightenment repressed and thus re-animate the Enlightenment desire for
emancipation. In doing so, Derrida advocates a new Enlightenment, one in which the
emancipatory desire is more rigorous and consistent. But the emancipation Derrida
strives for is not an empirical emancipation that will come in some future time. It is a
structural openness to what is to come, an openness that prevents a system from closing
in on itself.
1
Jacques Derrida, Specters of Marx: The State of the Debt, the Work of Mourning, and the New
International, trans. Peggy Kamuf (New York: Routledge, 1994) 90. Hereafter abbreviated in the text as
SM.
62
Derridas analysis of Marx seizes upon a critical spirit that is heir to the
Enlightenment and pushes it, radicalizing Marxism (SM, 88-89, 92). His analysis also
reveals deconstruction to be an heir to Marxism; in fact, his analysis shows that we are all
heirs of Marxism, even before wanting or refusing to be, and, like all inheritors, we are in
mourning (SM, 54). An inheritance places us in the position of debt. We are indebted
to the tradition that we have inherited, but this debt is not necessarily bad for Derrida. It
only becomes so when it becomes confining, when the debt becomes so overwhelming
that the inheritance closes us off to new possibilities. We must honor our inheritance and
the debt we owe to those who are dead by taking that inheritancewhether its money or
work. Reading Marx, Derrida uncovers multiple voices that bespeak the tension in
how deconstruction operates on a text; this reading will also introduce the themes of his
later work, which we will be developing over the course of the following chapters.
At the heart of Derridas critique of the Enlightenment is the belief that the best legacy of
the Enlightenment is the priority it gave questioning and critique; this is precisely the
correct use of philosophy. It is this very right to ask any question that animates
deconstruction. This is why Derrida will argue that deconstruction is in keeping with
63
much of the Western canon: as Socrates showed us, philosophy is supposed to unsettle,
complacent. Deconstruction acknowledges and respects the need to keep open the
possibility of questioning, and it does this by showing that there are too many meanings
within any text to grasp it in its entirety. Reading and interpreting are endless tasks.
deconstruction unleashes the possibilities buried and unnoticed in texts; at the same time
it demands a careful, detailed, and classical understanding of the canon. This centralif
classical readings of a text before undertaking a critical reading, otherwise one risks
imposing a reading arbitrarily. Without this recognition and this respect, critical
production would risk developing in any direction at all and authorize itself to say almost
understanding of a particular text, but only by beginning with the conventional can we
safely begin to push a text in new directions. So while Derrida rejects the view that
horizons, he believes that it still requires technical training. We have already seen
criticizes Foucault for deviating from classical commentary. Foucault is the first, to my
knowledge, to have isolated delirium and madness from sensation and dreams in this first
2
Jacques Derrida, Of Grammatology, trans. Gayatri Spivak (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press,
1998) 158.
3
Ibid.
64
Meditation. The first to have isolated them in their philosophical sense and their
methodological function. Such is the originality of his reading (CHM, 47). Originality
is not a problem for Derrida; Foucaults originality, however, certainly in this case, gives
pause. It is a cause for suspicion, and one must ask why Foucault is the first to read
Descartes as he does. But if the classical interpreters did not deem this dissociation
commentators failed to recognize the separation of madness and dreams? For Derrida,
Foucault should have taken the lack of supporting commentary as a sign that his reading
was problematic.
a text in an accessible waymakes the author the voice of authority that governs the text:
an accurate and effective commentary hews closely to what the text means to say, i.e.,
what the author means to say in it. Commentary is thus constrained by its inherent
logocentrism. Logocentrism orients the text around the argument the author intends. A
logocentric reading presumes the author transcends the text and serves as its omnipresent
merely clarifies the authors intentions, deconstructions goal is to root out those textual
elements that differ and oppose what the author intended to say, those elements the
focuses on the literality and textuality of the text, slowly, scrupulously, seriously, in
65
releasing the still-stirring forces that philosophy and logocentrism strive to contain.4
Derrida does not ignore authorial intentions, but he rejects the idea that those intentions
should determine every reading of a text. The author is not a point of origin for the text
to which readings must return. The text exists apart from the author and is ungovernable:
the author cannot govern the text because the text is a system within which the author
operates.
In any text, there is a structural blindness the writer cannot dominate. Words are English
words, not the writers; and a grammatical logic dictates how words can sensibly be
strung together. It is only by submitting to these structural dictates that the author
produces a particular text. But because of this tension, every text is shot through with
fundamental differences between its rhetoric and its logic; what is said is not always
consonant with the logic that structures the text. In fact, these two things sometimes
which regulates the text, its internal logic, and developing a reading that adheres strictly
to it. At the same time, deconstruction demands that the text itself remain true to this
logic as well. It seeks out those points in the text where the logic has been forgotten; and,
then, re-imposing this logic on those textual blind spots, sees what effects are produced.
4
John D. Caputo, Deconstruction in a Nutshell: A Conversation with Jacques Derrida (New York:
Fordham University Press, 1997) 83.
5
Derrida, Of Grammatology, 158.
66
[B]y means of this double play, marked in certain decisive places by an
erasure which allows what it obliterates to be read, violently inscribing
within the text that which attempted to govern it from without, I try to
respect as rigorously as possible the internal, regulated play of
philosophemes and epistimemes by making them slidewithout
mistreating themto the point of their nonpertinence, their exhaustion,
their closure.6
It is this respectful pushing of textual elements that makes deconstruction, despite the
allegations made by its critics, more than simply destructive. The purpose is not simply
to tear down a text by pointing out its inherent contradictions. Nor is it an irrational and
style of critical reading that relies on the internal logic of the text itself to dictate what the
reading will uncover. This is not a method or system that imposes meaning from
It is an undoing from the inside, at the surface of the text, not beyond its
limits, which may provoke a (self-) implosion of the said text. The
violence that deconstruction brings to the fore is that of the text itself, not
the reappropriative and super-imposed violence of logic, metaphysics,
logocentrism, or criticism, which always operate from outside the text.
The deconstructed text falls prey to its own violence, according to its own
laws, which are allowed by the deconstructive reading to resurface or
return7
Deconstructive focuses on the internal structure of the text and cannot transgress the text
toward something other than it, toward a referent or toward a signified outside the text
whose content could take place, could have taken place outside of language, that is to say,
in the sense that we give to that word, outside of writing in general. [] There is nothing
6
Jacques Derrida, Positions, trans. Alan Bass (Chicago: Chicago University Press, 1981) 6.
7
Francois Debrix, Specters of postmodernism: Derridas Marx, the New International and the return of
situationism, Philosophy and Social Criticism 25.1 (1999): 11. See also Richard Beardsworths
explication of Derridas reading of Saussure in Derrida and the Political (London: Routledge, 1996) 10-11.
67
outside of the text.8 To claim that there is nothing outside the text is to claim there is no
meta-thesis or authorial intention beyond the text itself that would provide textual
stability. We must confine ourselves and our reading to the internal logic and uncover
think otherwise about a text (and, as we will see, about our most fundamental concepts)
Marx to show how deconstruction operates and how the technique that Derrida brings to
bear on texts is also applied to our experiences, thereby putting into practice the desire for
Specters of Marx
In a brilliant and subversive reading of Marx, Derrida argues against the end or death of
Marxism.9 Having eschewed communism and the Communist Party when it was at its
height in 1960s France, in 1994with the Cold War over and the former communist
that Marx has assumed not just a new relevance, but a new urgency: because Marx
anticipated the transformations of his own theses and forms of knowledge itself, the
specter of Marx (if not the specter of communism) continues to haunt Europe; and not
reading Marx is a failure of political responsibility. There will be no future without this
[responsibility]. Not without Marx, no future without Marx, without the memory and the
8
Derrida, Of Grammatology, 158.
9
Subversive yet, in accordance with the methodological strictures mentioned above, grounded in an
orthodox reading. Ironically, it is his orthodox reading that leads many Marxists to take Derrida to task.
See Moishe Postone, Deconstruction as Social Critique: Derrida on Marx and the New World Order,
History and Theory, 37.3 (Oct., 1998): 370-387; and the critiques in Ghostly Demarcations: A Symposium
on Jacques Derridas Specters of Marx, ed. Michael Sprinker (London: Verso, 1999).
68
inheritance of Marx: in any case of a certain Marx, of his genius, of at least one of his
spirits (SM 13). To understand what Derrida means by the future and why it is so
crucial to keep Marx, we must first understand the metaphorical role of the specters that
haunt Marxs own thinking. Along the way, what we will also see the emergence of
themes and elements that will be central to our larger question of normalization.
spirit but also flesh.10 It is, Derrida tells us, the carnal apparition of the spirit, its
phenomenal body (SM, 136), yet that flesh and phenomenality that give to the spirit its
spectral apparitiondisappear right away in that apparation (SM, 6). The specter is
somewhere between spirit and body; it is where these two seemingly distinct modes of
being intermingle and where the very distinction becomes unstable. What I want to do
here is present quickly a schematic view of the specter that I will then flesh outpardon
1. The specter presents challenges to ontological thinking, the thinking that thinks in
terms of closure or what Laclau calls full reconciliation.11 Playing off the
homonymous relationship with ontology, where presence and absence are clearly
differentiated, Derrida describes his project as a hauntology, in which being and non-
being are no longer easily distinguished. (Derrida illustrates this in his reading of
or; the ghost of Hamlets father collapses this distinction.) This hauntology shows how
10
While Derrida is thematizing the ghost for the first time here, the intermingling of body and spirit goes
back to some of his earliest writings on Husserl, especially Speech and Phenomena, trans. David Allison
(Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 1973) 81.
11
Ernesto Laclau, Time is Out of Joint, Diacritics 25.2 (Summer, 1995): 88.
69
the specter undermines the categories of being and non-being by both existing and not
unknowable and yet present: One does not know: not out of ignorance, but because this
longer belongs to knowledge. At least no longer to that which one thinks one knows by
the name of knowledge (SM, 6). The figure of the specter is a counter to the onto-theo-
2. As that which one cannot know, the specter emphasize the egos experience of the
other: it sees us, yet we cannot see it. We cannot make out who or what this thing is.
The ghost comes to us in an asymmetrical relation. We can feel it looking at us. But we
are seen by a look we cannot return: we are looked at from outside of any synchrony,
even before and beyond any look on our part, according to an absolute anteriority and
radicalization of the Husserlian apperception of the other: no longer can I know the other
only analogically; the specter, like the other in Levinas, is always already confronting me
and confronting me in a way that pre-empts the autonomy of the egological subject.12
undoes the priority of the present as a series of now-points because it continues to linger
on and haunt the present when it should have passed on. But the ghost is not only a
12
See Emmanuel Levinas, Otherwise than Being or Beyond Essence, trans. Alphonso Lingus (Dordrecht:
Kluwer Academic Publishers, 1991) 9-11, 99-102; and Ethics and Infinity, trans. Richard Cohen
(Pittsburgh: Duquesne University Press, 1985) 95-101.
70
lingering presence; it is also something one waits for.13 The specter haunting Europe in
the opening sentence of the Communist Manifesto is on its way; in the opening scene of
Hamlet, Horatio and Marcellus are waiting for the ghost of Hamlet to re-appear. The
ghost, this thing that should have passed on, is now on its way back: the revenant is an
arrivant. The revenant is going to come (SM, 4). The specter is not confined to the
now, to the moment of the living-present. It disrupts time itself, and through this
disruption, it breaches in the sphere of sameness that circumscribes the present. Within
expectation, which means what exists within time is already defined by that horizon.
Nothing new is going to appear in the living present. In breaching the living present, the
specter opens the present, and with that opening, extends the principle of responsibility
beyond the present. The specter recalls us to our responsibility and the justice owed to
those who lie outside the present to the possibility of justice by, the ghosts of those who
are not yet born or who are already dead (SM, xix).
4. The specterwhat is there and not there at the same timeis what spooks. It is the es
spucht, literally, it ghosts (SM, 172). The it here, like that in its raining, does not
is used in the same impersonal verbal form as the es gibt. The spooking of the specter
comes upon us, not an intentional act of the ego. What spooks us is the strange, the
13
Derridas characterization of the specter as the no-longer and yet-to-be that infiltrates and opens up the
now clearly recalls his deconstructive reading of Husserls theory of internal time consciousness. See
Speech and Phenomena, 60-69.
71
the ghost, standing back and coldly analyzing it, developing theories about it, will never
let us know the specter. One has to speak to it despite the uneasiness and apprehension it
engenders. And this is precisely what Marx understood: the scholar does not believe in
ghosts and therefore seeks always to maintain a strict division between the real and unreal
with the hope of stabilizing what tries to slip between these categories. Marxat least a
certain MarxDerrida tells us, was a scholar willing to be spooked. He knew how to
speak to ghosts and was mad enough to unlock the possibilities offered by addressing
ghosts. Being spooked, being unsettled, is the state in which we experience the opening
figure among others. It is perhaps the hidden figure of all figures (SM, 120). The title
of Derridas book and recurring phrase the specters of Marx follows the logic of the
double genitive: the specters it refers to are the ghosts that haunted Marx and the
remnants of Marx that continue to haunt us. This amphiboly provides the fulcrum for the
that points up two different voices in his writings. The first is the voice of Wissenschaft,
dialectical materialism, etc., that is heard in the capitalist critiques of Marxism that seeks
to drive out the ghosts contaminating the concrete world. The second is a messianic
voice that hears the call of those specters to whom responsibility is owed. It is this latter
voice that Derrida will draw out through his deconstructive reading.14
14
As always, Derrida reads with two hands, following assiduously and indefatigably the unstable limit
that divides what we might call the logic of a textits fundamentally aporetic or undecidable basic
concepts and distinctionsfrom the intentions that attempt to govern that text, the author-ity that tries to
dissolve or control those aporias. As is so often the case, Derrida focuses this double gesture in the
72
Marx believed the world contained too many ghosts: ghosts of religion, ghosts of
commodity fetishism, even the ghost of Communism. His task was to drive out these
ghosts or, in the case of Communism, turn it into concrete reality, which is another way
of driving it out. In this first, most readily apparent voice, Marx speaks as the heir to the
philosophical tradition, despite his efforts to free himself of it. He is, for example,
critical of the Young Hegelians for failing to exorcise the ghost of Hegel. One of these,
Max Stirner, shares Marxs goal: both men want to replace the abstract with the concrete;
they want to avoid speculation and get down to what is real. Stirner argues that
exorcising the ghosts produced by abstract thought requires the individual to appropriate
overcome these ghosts that haunt me. It is my individual body that allows me to
appropriate these abstractions and make them mine. I, in turn, can appropriate my own
physical existence (SM, 128). For Marx, this approach to exorcism is misconceived:
Stirner turns the living body into nothing but a space for ghosts; in other words, the
ghosts remain, inhabiting the body. The living body is now infected by what is not real,
by death. And for Marx, this points to Stirners larger problem: for all of his desire to get
free of ghosts, he remains haunted by them. Stirner wants to get out from under Hegels
shadow, but fails to understand Hegel well enough to extricate himself from it:
[T]he reproach against Stirner is both that he does not understand Hegel
andthis is not necessarily a contradictionthat he is too Hegelian in his
genealogy of the ghost. This bad brother sees himself accused at once of
being the too filial son and bad son of Hegel. A docile son listens to his
father, he mimes him but does not understand him at all, implies Marx
who would have liked to do not the opposite, that is, become another bad
son, but something else by interrupting filiation (SM, 122).
ambivalent usage of a specific word by the author he is considering, in this case Spectre, Gespenst. Simon
Critchley, Ethics-Politics-Subjectivty: Essays on Derrida, Levinas, and Contemporary French Thought
(London: Verso, 1999) 145.
73
Marx thinks Stirner remains too embedded in the tradition he is trying to critique.
Consequently, he cannot transform it; he can only replicate it in disguised forms (SM,
133).15
wants to purify life of death, i.e., of spirits, and keep the two realms separate. But where
Stirner tries to subsume Hegelian Geist in the ego of the single individual, Marx thinks
we need to exorcise the ghost of absolute spirit and replace it with economic reality, i.e.
with presence. Instead of the body, Marx turns to work. It is through workreal work
the physical reality of the thing; a spirit hovers around it. [The commoditys] analysis
brings out that it is a very strange thing, abounding in metaphysical subtleties and
theological niceties.16 The objects in the market assume a spectral quality (as opposed
to the qualities found in objects of use); exchange value is a ghostly quality that haunts an
object that initially possessed only use value. To explain this characteristic of
to human creations in the same way the market gives artifacts independence.
[Exchange value] is nothing but the definite social relation between men
themselves which assumes here, for them, the fantastic form of a relation
between things. In order, therefore, to find an analogy we must take flight
into the misty realm of religion. There the products of the human brain
15
I am focusing here only on the deconstructive analysis of Marxs own analysis of Stirner. For criticisms
of Derridas overlooking of the historical aspects that were at work in Marxs reading of Stirner, see
Ghostly Demarcations, 140-144.
16
Karl Marx, Capital: A Critique of Political Economy, Vol. 1, trans. Ben Fowkes (London: Penguin
Books, 1990) 163.
74
appear as autonomous figures endowed with a life of their own, which
enter into relations both with each other and with the human race.17
Religion thus becomes a paradigm of the object of ideological critique because it gives
corporeal form to ghosts. Only the end of capitalistic modes of production and the
elimination of market forces will exorcise these ghosts. The whole mystery of
commodities, all the magic and necromancy [Spuk] that surrounds the products of labour
argues, is an effort to keep use-value pure; and this purity is reached once the ghostly
This, then, is the operative logic of the first Marxian voice: the real can be
purified, and it can be purified through a critical ontology. This critical ontology means
to deploy the possibility of dissipating the phantom, let us venture to say again of
its conditions (SM, 170). Marx believes his ontology allows him to draw a bright line
between the ghostly and the concrete, the spectral and the ontological, life and death. He
shows, however, it is precisely this desire for a bright line that draws Marx into the very
tradition he sought to criticize and subjects him to the very criticism he leveled at Stirner.
Marx is equally hostile to ghosts, andlike Stirnerit is all he thinks about. Marx
loved the figure of the ghost, he detested it, he called it to witness his contestation, he was
haunted by it, harassed, besieged, obsessed by it. [] More than others, perhaps, Marx
17
Ibid., 165.
18
Ibid., 169. Quoted in SM, 164.
75
had ghosts in his head and knew without knowing what he was talking about (SM,
106). The specter is a pervasive trope that appears throughout Marxs writings, from his
Ideology to The Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte. His entire project, Derrida
claims, is an irresistible but interminable hunt for ghosts, which reappears constantly in
his efforts to drive out the ghosts inherited from German idealism.
But Derrida pushes the logic of purity further. In examining Marxs distinction of
use and exchange value in which use grants a pure value to the object that is then infected
with the impure value of exchange, Derrida shows that use value is not evidently
different from exchange value. The distinction between use and value is an artificial one:
the thing is already structured as an artifact, and it gains exchange value as soon as it
comes to be and is useful; anything can be traded. The ghost of the market, in other
words, always already inhabits the things of use. Derrida shows that there is a need for a
new logic, one that abandons the search for some purely real thing since nothing is free of
ghosts.
What Derrida discovers within Marxs critical ontology, is a second voice, one
operating unbeknownst to Marx and at cross-purposes with this quest for purity. This
voice
calls for questions more radical than the critique itself and than the
ontology that grounds the critique. These questions are not destabilizing
as the effect of some theoretico-speculative subversion. They are not
evenquestions but seismic events. [] These seismic events come from
the future, they are given from out of the unstable chaotic, and dis-located
ground of the times. A disjointed or dis-adjusted time without which there
would be neither history, nor event, nor promise of justice (SM, 170).
76
The Messianic
The Marx signified by the first voice is finished: communisms collapse ended any
dreams of overturning the modes of production and abolishing private property. But for
Derrida, now is exactly the time that Marx cannot be ignored. The second voice is the
one that remains relevant to and critical of todays political conditions. We have
difficulty hearing it because it has been so thoroughly forced into the background.
Marxists have ignored it in their eagerness to implement Marxs theories in and through
more than a failed economic theory. Even Marx himself resisted it and sought to bury it
beneath his philosophical or ontological project (SM, 29-30). But it is precisely this
suppressed voice that Derrida will bring to the surface. What he hears in it is an ethical
thinking that preclude possibilities (SM, 30). The Marxism articulated in this voice is not
strives to dislodge any onto-theological program and offers us, as we will see, the
In this second Marxian voice, Derrida hears the murmurings of a messianic spirit.
teleologies and eschatologies; they are those systems of belief directed at some utopian
future that will eventually become the present. These may be religious messianisms like
those found in the religions of the Book, but they may also be philosophical or
77
political.19 The common element these systems share is the idea of a determinate future
state held out as the goal toward which everything is moving; it is up to the particular
group privileged in the systeme.g., the Christians, the Jews, al Qaida, the
Republicansto bring it to fruition. For Derrida, messianisms are dangerous and scary
because of the willingness of a systems adherents to crush anyone and everyone standing
in the way of their goal. And they justify crushing their opponents on the grounds that it
is for the greater good: they are in effect killing their opponents in order to save them.
Derrida wants to bracket the content of these messianisms in order to get at the
structure of the messianic, which exceeds the specific promises messianisms make. The
does not depend upon any messianism, it follows no determinate revelation, it belongs
not a possible future that will come someday if we can only remove the obstacles. It
offers no future state of affairs that we should be preparing for or working toward. It is a
78
projected onto the future (such as a utopia), but precisely names what I
would call the blind spot in any horizon whereby it gives way to other
horizons, other hopes and interpretations.22
This future remains out in front of us, a promise we cannot hope to fulfill. But the
structure of the avenirthe future, but literally the a-venir, the to comeis not a
to remain open to new and unforeseen possibilities. It shows us that things could be
otherwise; but because these possibilities are unforeseen, they cannot be planned for or
Derrida offers a reading of Fukuyamas The End of History and the Last Man, a new
gospel, the noisiest, the most mediatized, the most successful one on the subject of the
death of Marxism as the end of history (SM, 56). Fukuyama argues that with the
collapse of communism, democracy and the free market are now able to usher in the
conception of the end of history, Fukuyama proclaims the triumph of liberal democracy:
the threatening ghost of communism has been exorcised, and now we can get down to the
real business at hand, viz. spreading the good news of democracy and capitalism.
stance is not critical; it is evangelical. He embraces fully the flow of events that point to
the dawning of a new political day in which freedom is a universal condition. This
freedom is only possible because of the alliance of democracy and the free market, and
22
Matthias Fritsch, The Promise of Memory: History and Politics in Marx, Benjamin, and Derrida
(Albany: SUNY, 2005) 71.
79
this alliance is responsible for the progress of the last twenty-five years of the 20th
century.
Fukuyama admits that the progress toward this utopian future has not been consistent.
No one can deny that the history of the twentieth century has been marked by evils: the
rise of genocidal, technologically advanced regimes; the widening gap between rich and
poor; environmental degradation. But, Fukuyama assures us, these evils are merely
empirical phenomena; they do not and cannot refute the ideal history is realizing. Of
course we still have poverty, but demanding more social welfare to correct market
inequalities is only going to prevent the free market from doing what it does best, viz.
delivering goods and services in the most efficient way. We may not be there yet, but
someday all of this injustice will be a thing of the past. This is Fukuyamas standard
response: when the news is good, it is because liberal democracy is with us and bringing
about a harmonious order; when concrete objections to the triumph of democracy arise,
liberal democracy is an ideal that, once we get there, will set all things right. Depending
on how it works to his advantage and serves his thesis, Fukuyama defines liberal
democracy here as an actual reality and there as a simple ideal (SM, 62). He
simultaneously treats the ideal as both finite (because it has already been realized) and
infinite (because differs from empirical reality and because it remains at the end of our
Derridas critique of Fukuyama draws out the same struggle to maintain the strict
division found in Marxs first voice: the real and the ideal, actuality and ideality keep
80
bleeding into each other. This division creates a fundamental contradiction in
Fukuyamas thinking, but it is only by keeping these realms separate that Fukuyama is
able to turn democracy into a regulative idea that allows us to tolerate injustice in the
belief that it will eventually right itself. The ideals of Fukuyamas, and those of any other
messianism, operate as formed horizons we can determine and use to measure our
progress.
we can make into reality; Derrida understands democracy as a promise that keeps the
future structurally open. In other words, democracy to come does not afford us the
luxury of a messianism. It does not provide a set program of action and clear goalposts
by which we can measure our progress toward utopia. It is not the democracy Fukuyama
open-ended. To this extent, the effectivity or actuality of the democratic promise, like
that of the communist promise, will always keep within it, and it must do so, this
absolutely undetermined messianic hope at its heart, this eschatological relation to the to-
come of an event and of a singularity, of an alterity that cannot be anticipated (SM, 65).
When messianisms close off this openness in expectation of their particular future, they
no longer allow for the possibility of anything new appearing: what does not fit their
openness to what we cannot expect. It retains the structure of the emancipatory promise,
and thereby keeps the present structurally open to the future and to justice. Injustice is no
81
longer a temporary shortcoming of the system; it is simply intolerable. To understand
Justice
In Force of Law: The Mystical Foundation of Authority, Derrida argues that there is
what he calls a quasi-transcendental structure. It is not real, but it is not ideal either. It
is not present, but neither is it part of a future present. It is always just out of our
conceptual and actual grasp, which drives us to seek it further. And because it is
unknowable, it cannot function as a foundation; but the undeconstructible is not for all
on deconstruction.
Derridas analysis of justice reveals a structural gap between the law and justice,
between the universal and the singular, and it is here deconstruction takes place. The law
is schematic and universal: it is responsible for all and therefore cannot attend to the
rules that must be obeyed; this is why it works as a means of establishing social order.
Justice, on the other hand, is concerned with the singular, which exists as an exception to
the systematic workings of the law. It pertains to the unique and particular case that must
be examined in its singularity rather than ignored in the universal schema of the law.
Where there are no proper names for the law, justice is all about proper names. Without
23
This was a very striking claim for Derrida to make; at the time, it was assumed that nothing was
undeconstructible. He will go on to develop this idea and eventually argue that behind any deconstructive
analysis there is an affirmation of something undeconstructible; it is precisely the undeconstructible that
provokes and drives the deconstructive analyses of various concepts and structures. Derrida, Force of
Law: The Mystical Foundation of Authority. Trans. Mary Quaintance. In Deconstruction and the
Possibility of Justice, ed. Drucilla Cornell et al. (New York: Routledge, 1992) 14. Hereafter abbreviated in
the text as MFA.
82
this singularity, justice becomes nothing more than juridical-moral rules, norms everyone
must follow. It slips back into the totalizing horizons of equivalence and calculation one
finds with the law (SM, p. 28). It is this focus on singularity that makes justice
Deconstruction makes justice possible because it opens the law to the possibility
of justice. At the same time, justice qua the undeconstructible sets deconstruction in
too often, concealed in a conceptand by pushing them further to show the instability of
our most fundamental ideas. Such aporias are crucial to justice because they slow down,
or even temporarily stop, the machinations of the law. Law is the element of
calculation, and it is just that there be law, but justice is incalculable, it requires us to
calculate with the incalculable; and aporetic experiences are the experiences, as
improbable as they are necessary, of justice, that is to say of moments in which the
decision between just and unjust is never insured by a rule (MFA, 16). Without these
aporias that demand attention to the singular, the law would simply function as a
programmable system; there would be no need for judgment. Derrida uncovers three
(1) The aporia of the rule and its suspension. A rule operates through regularity: it
imposes structure and control only through repetition, which means that it must apply
impose a rule on a case-by-case basis; doing so renders the rule arbitrary. But the
demand for justice is what is required here and now and with an eye to the particulars of
83
every case (SM, 31). Justice must suspend and reinvent the law with every decision. A
just decision is reached only when the judge re-invents the law by judging its proper
operates within the law and responds to justice. The decision, then, is not completely
arbitrary or based on the whim of the judge, but neither is it totally bound by the legal
such moments, we lose the rules or algorithms we normally rely on when we act.
pattern or program to follow; we are completely on our own. The undecidable is not
merely the oscillation or the tension between two decisions; it is the experience of that
which, though heterogeneous, foreign to the order of the calculable and the rule, is still
obligedto give itself up to the impossible decision, while taking account of law and
rules (MFA, 24). All judgment depends upon undecidability. Justice comes only in the
means, of course, that it cannot last because the decision, once made, reintroduces the
system of the law. Undecidability persists, though; it is a ghost in the haunting sense of
(3) Urgency. The final aporia arises from the realization that justice cannot be deferred;
we must respond now. But if we are not simply applying a rule in a fashion we are
familiar with, if we are reinventing the rule for the particular case before us, then justice
84
without certainty and without total knowledge. We cannot wait until we have all the
factsthat would mean never making a decision since gathering all the necessary
information would take an infinite amount of time.24 But this also means that the instant
of decision is madness. Justice and its demand for a decision leads us to a gap that
requires a leap, that is, a non-cognitive move. My decision does not belong to the order
normalizing structures of the law that allows the singularity and the otherness of the
individual be recognized (SM, 29). As soon as a decision is made, the homogenizing and
normalizing systems enclose the individual once again. Here we find the link between
the messianic and justice: as a structural openness to the future, the messianic is an
openness in which justice is the coming of the other. The movement beyond the law to
the other is a movement that disrupts the law and our own self-possession and self-
presence. It is a disjoining of the present; it pulls the self-presence of the present open so
that the other may appear (SM, 22, 28). But this openness and this coming occur without
any horizon of expectation. This means that the other is not appearing as an other I am
expecting; such an other would be already reduced to what I know. The expected other
24
Derrida alluded to this dilemma as early as Cogito and the History of Madness: I do not know to what
extent Foucault would agree that the prerequisite for a response to such questions is first of all the internal
and autonomous analysis of the philosophical content of philosophical discourse. Only when the totality of
this content will have become manifest in its meaning for me (but this is impossible) will I rigorously be
able to situate it in its total historical form. It is only then that its reinsertion will not do violence, that there
will be a legitimate reinsertions of this philosophical meaning itself (CHM, 44). Karin De Boer brings this
question of acting in spite of ones undecidability back to Hamlet: The difference betweenHamlet and
Laertes resides exclusively in the fact that Hamlet cannot but let his acting be haunted by the unsettling
insight into the utter precariousness of any effort to let justice prevail. Enter the Ghost/Exit the Ghost/Re-
enter the Ghost: Derridas Reading of Hamlet in Specters of Marx, Journal of the British Society for
Phenomenology 33.1 (January 2002): 31.
25
For an interesting application of these notions of justice to Latin American politics, see Diane Enns,
Emancipatory Desire and the Messianic Promise, Philosophy Today 44 (2000): 175-186. Enns also
offers a clear response to Critchleys conflation of undecidability with indecision.
85
would thus already be the same and would already fit within my realm of experience.
But justice demands hospitality to the other, which means allowing the other to appear as
whom one leaves a completely open, empty place. The spectral arrivant does not
confirm the horizon of the same (PTJD, 130). The other is something radically
different, something new. This makes the other something to welcome, but also a
potential threat: The messianic exposes itself to absolute surprise and, even if it always
takes the phenomenal form of peace or of justice, it ought, exposing itself so abstractly, to
be prepared (waiting without awaiting itself) for the best as for the worst, the one never
coming without opening the possibility of the other.26 Derrida recognizes that opening
up normalizing systems and allowing the other to come means opening ourselves up to
the possibility of evil. It unsettles; it spooks us. But the alternativethe closing off of
all possibility within a totalizing systemis worse. How we should welcome the other,
how we can allow the other to appear without normalizing the other is what we must
examine next.
26
Derrida, Faith and Knowledge, 17.
86
Chapter 4: Foucaults Shifting Conception of Normalization
of how society generates the other. But his analysis of Tuke and Pinel, two pioneers of
modern psychiatry, reveals Foucaults implicit recognition that the generation of the other
produces a concomitant drive to reclaim that other. The system, the economy, that is
looking at Foucaults archeology of Tuke and Pinel from History of Madness, and then
by examining his lectures on psychiatry from 1973. What these lectures show is
Foucaults evolving understanding of the role that power plays within institutions and a
clearer conception of just how power constitutes and reclaims the other.
Whiggish histories of psychiatry herald the arrival of physicians such as Tuke and Pinel
as liberators of the mad. Until their arrival, these histories claim, madness was simply
unrecognized mental illness; it took a new, more objective, and more rational approach to
medicine to understand the true nature of the mad.1 Pinel, the story goes, inaugurated the
new asylum when he entered Bictre and courageously ordered the chains removed from
those imprisoned there.2 From that moment on, the old, repressive methods of
confinement gave way to revolutionary treatments designed not simply to warehouse the
1
Foucault, Mental Illness & Psychology, 64.
2
The legend ignores a deeper, more telling irony: Pinels assistant, Pussin, did, in fact, order the chains
removed from about forty patientsbut promptly had the patients placed in camisoles de force, or
straitjackets. See Jill Harsin, Gender, Class, and Madness in Nineteenth-Century France, French
Historical Studies 17.4 (Fall 1992): 1050.
87
mad, but to cure them. In these histories, Tuke and Pinel are humane pioneers, ushering
The end of the eighteenth century did see a shifting attitude among physicians
throughout Europe, as well as in England and the United States, regarding the treatment
of madness. What was new to this attitude was not the view that madness was curable;
by this time, many traditional therapies, such as bleedings and purgings, were meant to
cure madness. What was newand what is so important for Foucaultwas the idea that
confinement could do more than just remove a nuisance from polite society; institutions
themselves, it was believed, could be instrumental in making patients better. The asylum
was to become a machine gurir, in the words of Dr. Jacques Tenon.3 It is within
these healing machines, within the asylum, that the space of confinement became
productive, but such changes, Foucault reminds us, were gradual and, more importantly,
unintentional:
This new space of confinement will come to represent the institutionalized space where
patients are returned to their natural state. Psychiatry will accept wholesale the notion of
3
Quoted in Harsin, 1053.
88
normality first enacted by confinement. One of Foucaults criticisms of psychiatry is its
nineteenth century (and perhaps our own, too, even now) believes that it orients itself and
takes its bearings in relation to a homo natura, or a normal man pre-existing all
Operating under the belief that there is indeed a natural mental state, the early
state. The organization of the physical space of the asylum provided greater freedom in
the sense that patients were no longer chained to walls or locked in cages. But this
physical freedom was quietly offset by a new organization of interior space. Within the
asylums, moral therapy becomes the basic model for treating the insane. The goal was
to return the madman to the truth; madness, in other words, was an error that could be
righted. But it could only be righted if the patient submitted to the doctor because it was
the doctor and his therapeutic methods that could restore the patient to the proper
Moral therapy, for all of its advantages over previous forms of treatment, is not
innocuous. Once we bracket the hagiographies of the typical histoire hospitalire, the
practices of moral therapy begin to look more and more subtlyand more and more
thoroughlycoercive. Beneath the rhetoric of liberation, one finds the actual liberation
of the mad rife with ironies and contradictions: madness is freed, but only after being
4
The division of reason and madness that occurred at the societal level also occurs within the individual. It
produces in humans a powerful forgetting; he was to learn to dominate that great division, and bring it
down to his own level; and make in himself the day and the night . Having mastered his madness, and
having freed it by capturing it in the gaols of his gaze and his morality, having disarmed it by pushing it
into a corner of himself finally allowed man to establish that sort of relation to the self that is known as
psychology (HM, xxxiv).
89
situated in a space more rigid and more closed than the original space of confinement; no
longer chained up, the mad are now able to use their free will, except their free will has
been transferred to the will of the physician. The mad are physically free, but they are
simultaneously denied that freedom. This is the central irony for Foucault: the liberation
The truth of the individual becomes manifest only in its alienation from the individual.
And it is moral therapy that imposes this alienation. It is the supposition that there is an
essence and a truth that makes moral therapy more insidiously coercive.6
normality and transforms this misconception into a practical and therapeutic concept. It
is an instantiation of normalizing power, shifting the emphasis away from the physical to
the moral and, in doing so, defining a moral space that organizes the guilt of the madman:
5
[Foucault] uses the terms alienated and alienation in three allied senses. The first derives from the Latin
root alienare, which simply means to make other. The second is that preserved in the English term
alienist, and refers to mental illness or insanity. The third is a complex renversement of the Marxist use
of the term. These three uses of the term govern Foucaults description of the emergence of madness as
mental illness. Eve Tavor Bannet, Structuralism and the Logic of Dissent: Barthes, Derrida, Foucault,
Lacan (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1989) 116.
6
The goal was to move beyond controlling the patients simply through threats of physical force; moral
therapy aimed to fundamentally alter the patients relationship with himself. See Andrew Scull, The Most
Solitary of Afflictions: Madness and Society in Britain, 1700-1900 (New Haven: Yale University Press,
1993) 99-100.
90
As Foucault shows, patients were no longer made to feel guilty for being mad; they were
made to feel guilty for disrupting and disturbing society and for failing to act in
accordance with social norms. The policy of kindness and gentleness so apparent in
moral therapy thus relies upon a contractual relationship between the keepers of the
asylum and those housed there that is predicated on punishment: act rationally and
normally, and you may act freely; indulge your madness, engage in abnormal behavior,
and there will be repercussions. In other words, as long as patients adhered to socially
accepted forms of behavior, they would be rewarded. Foucault cites a passage from Tuke
that recounts the introduction of a new patient to the Retreat: the patient was told there
would be no constraints, provided the patient obeyed the rules. As Tuke points out, The
maniac was sensible of the kindness of his treatment. He promised to restrain himself
(HM, 484; Foucaults emphasis). The patients had to learn to restrain themselves, to
In place of the pathological passions, the forms of treatment used within the
asylums developed by Tuke and Pinel not only organized the fear and guilt of the mad,
but they also instilled new means to treat them. Segregation at Tukes Retreat served two
purposes. On the one hand, it took the patient out of harmful circumstances. Being
hate and disgust, passions that lead to madness. But the real purpose of segregation was
to clear a space in which religion can serve as the controlling force in daily life.
Removing the individual from her own environment meant situating her in a space where
religion could serve as the Law. Religion provided the foundation for controlling
madness because religion represented what cannot go mad; it was understood to be the
91
unassailable core of reason. As such, it served as a principle of coercion. Religious
beliefs and principles were used to force the individual to behave in proper ways:
transgression became a constant threat, and anxiety and fear became perpetual. Guilt
became the madmans relation to his own madness; fear was instilled in his conscience.
The relationship between fear and madness is thus reversed: whereas before, the rational
feared the specter of madness, now madness is what becomes afraid. Fear of violating
the rules, fear of being guilty, fear of transgression becomes the overriding imperative for
the patients. And such fear, it was believed, is therapeutic: it has the power of
disalienation. However, Foucault points out, the religious and moral milieu was
imposed from without, so that madness, without ever being cured, had a restraint placed
At the same time, in France, Pinels asylum was imposing these values as law.
In the first case, the asylum was to act as an awakening and a reminder, invoking a
forgotten nature; in the second, it was to act as social displacement, to uproot individuals
from their condition (HM, 495). Pinels asylum operated on the belief that the madman
violated the moral standards of humanity; treatment in the forms of retraining and bodily
and psychic discipline must lead to an affirming of social standards. He saw the asylum
as continuous with social morality and bourgeois values, but affirmation of these
standards required a shift in the patients social situation. Madness for Pinel was a social
failing: environmental conditions produced the moral laxity that gave rise to madness,
and it was the role of the doctor to correct this failing. Unlike Tuke, Pinel regarded
religion as dangerous and believed that excessive religiosity would lead to madness. He
wanted the moral truth of religion but without the iconography. He believed that social
92
values provided the bedrock of humanity: A primitive form of morality remained,
ordinarily untouched even by the most extreme forms of dementia (HM, 493). Under
The close contact between the doctor and the patient meant that patients were
subjected to constant observation, and this observation was pervasive and non-reciprocal.
It sought out any and all signs of madness in the behavior of the patients. Tuke held
social gatherings, such as tea parties, for the patients that were really nothing more than
exercises in observation: rather than a simple social event, it is the organization around
the madman of a whole world where everything seems similar and accessible, but to
which he is a perpetual outsider, the Stranger par excellence judged not only on
appearances, but on all that they might reveal and betray despite themselves (HM, 487).
In the houses of confinement, the mad had been subjected to observation, but there they
were objects of spectacle; in the asylum, observation was meant to discern the nature of
the patient. And what the physicians in charge of the asylums realized was that continual
observation, observation of which the patient is aware, forced the mad to objectify
themselves, to see themselves through the eyes of reason. Pinel employed a similar tactic
by which the madman is shown the madness in others, where it appears absurd. This
recognition was then used as a mirror turned back on the madman himself. The madman
was forced to observe himself, thus dissolving his own subjectivity. Realization, or
gaining consciousness was now linked to the shame of being identical to that other,
compromised in him and scorned by oneself even before reaching recognition and
93
Despite their differences, both Tuke and Pinel turned their patients into objects of
their own judgment. For both, madness was a form of immorality and a condition to be
silenced; the cure for insanity required only the patients that they were responsible for
their own cure. The ultimate goal was to overcome the patients alienation, restore him
to his social instincts, and return him to society as a productive member capable of
Given his later analysis, History of Madness certainly has a conceptual crudeness, but
even here we can see the implicit recognition that normalization is at work in institutions.
the focus was on the madman caught in the mechanisms of the modern asylum. While he
highlighted certain examples, he was unconcerned with carrying the analysis to the
individual level: the normalizing practices were institutional practices imposed on those
relegated to the asylums. The role of power remained implicit, and Foucault more or less
assumed the connection between power and those subjected to it to be one of domination.
7
Joseph Cronin, Foucaults Antihumanist Historiography (Lewiston: E. Mellen Press, 2001) 118.
94
manifestation at least, exercised in the form of exclusion; thus one sees
madness caught up in a great movement of rejection (PK, 183-184).
The conception of power he used, Foucault claims, was a purely negative one: power is
articulate a new understanding of power, and it is here in these lectures that we see the
Pinel again. He points to two scenes of healing described by Pinel that provide a more
accurate portrait of how power functions. In the first, a patient who refuses to eat
because he believes he must emulate the practices of anchorites and hermits, not only in
denying himself the pleasures of the flesh but also food. Pussin, Pinels assistant,
confronts the young man, telling him that if he does not eat, he will be severely punished.
The patient is then left in the most painful state, wavering between the idea of the
threatened punishment and the terrifying perspective of the other life (PP, 10). After
several hours, the patient capitulated and ate; he submitted to the treatment and gradually
The elements of this scene are very important. First, Foucault notes, the
therapeutic act is not directed at the actual cause of the illness. Instead, Pussins actions
focus on the patients behavior. Second, these actions are not forms of medical treatment
for pathological behavior; instead, what we have here is a contest of wills. Third, this
battle of wills initiates a second force relation, one that is internal to the patient, viz. the
patients ide fixe and his fear of punishment. And, when the scene succeeds, there must
8
Michel Foucault, Psychiatric Power: Lectures at the Collge de France, 1973-1974, trans. Graham
Burchell, ed. Jacques Lagrange (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2006). Hereafter abbreviated in the text
as PP. The lectures contained in this volume, most notably the lecture of November 21, 1973, are
invaluable for tracing the development of Foucaults understanding of power.
95
be a victory in both struggles, the victory of one idea over another, which must be at the
same time the victory of the doctors will over that the patients will (PP, 11). The
fourth aspect of this scene is the production of a moment where the truth appears, where
the patient sees his original belief as erroneous. Consequently, and this is the fifth aspect,
truth no longer requires medical knowledge; it requires the consent of the patient. So
there is a distribution of force, power, the event, and truth here, which is unlike anything
in what could be called the medical model being constructed in clinical medicine in the
The second scene Pinel recounts is one that Foucault says presents psychiatry as
the regular and concerted manipulation of relations of power. This scene has to do with
the confinement of George III on the advice of Willis. Isolated in a chamber of a remote
palace, George is told that he is no longer the king and that he must submit to his
treatment. Two of his old pages, whom Pinel describes as being of a Herculean stature,
attend him, and yet he must obey them. During a visit from his old doctor, the king
smears feces on the doctor and himself. The pages then enter, seize the king, and
promptly wash his clothes and body. This scene was repeated until the king returned to
the king is rendered powerless. The signs of the monarchy are stripped away, and he is
reduced to only his body. It is his pages whom Pinel describes as Herculean, which
Foucault regards as an important iconographic point: historically, it was the king who
was described in heroic terms; now the king is described in the language of submission.
And, where a king typically appeared accoutered with the visible and immediate signs of
96
power, we have the pages exercising power over the king. The servants still serve the
king, but they now serve in a disciplinary relation and are no longer serving at the will of
the king (because the king has no will); instead they serve the mechanics of the body.
There is, then, a disconnect between Georges will and his needs, between the law and
the state. Finally, George marks a complete reversal of sovereignty when he covers
himself with feces and throws it at his physician. Throwing feces, Foucault remarks, is
an action of the poor, of those with nothing else to use against the powerful. The pages
intervene and render the body proper and true. What is crucial in this scene is the fact
that the doctor no longer embodies authority: the doctor becomes the watcher; it is the
servants who are the relay of power.9 The pages are not agents of repression; they are not
dominating the king. Instead, they are ensuring that the king maintain some semblance of
normality. The role of the pages and the doctor and the destitution of George illustrate a
fundamental shift in the functioning of power, viz. the shift from sovereign power to
disciplinary power.
Power has typically been thought of in terms of what Foucault calls the repressive
hypothesis, which presents power as a centralized force capable of stifling any and all
opposition. On this model, power maintains itself through the constant repression of the
masses and the continual suppression of the truth. It is a hierarchized and dominating
relationship in which one party commands another; a ruler, even a democratically elected
one, holds power over the ruled. Power, whatever its political form, flows from the top
of the pyramid to the masses below; those found among the masses are purely recipients
9
See Anne Digby, Changes in the Asylum: The Case of York, 1777-1815, The Economic History Review,
New Series 36.2 (May 1983): 218-239.
97
of it. This understanding of power is a holdover from the days when the king personified
power. Power resided in the sovereign, the locus of all power relations, and these
relations were absolute and overwhelming and based on overt domination: displays of
political strength reinforced the understanding among the common people that the
their role in the management of individuals. Only gradually did it move to society at
large (PP, 41). But as it did, the masses slowly came to be regarded as populations that
required careful and constant control. Power in this form diverges from other forms
Power would no longer be dealing simply with legal subjects over whom
the ultimate dominion was death, but with living beings, and the mastery it
would be able to exercise over them would have to be applied at the level
of life itself; it was the taking charge of life, more than the threat of death,
that gave power its access even to the body.10
The questions it addresses are no longer broad moral issues or overarching strategies; this
power is focused on the administration and application of various techniques that produce
specific types of subjects. Discipline may be identified neither with an institution nor
with an apparatus; it is a type of power, a modality for its exercise, comprising a whole
or an anatomy of power, a technology (DP, 215). During the Enlightenment, the task
was no longer to make citizens into juridical subjects, i.e. those who obey the laws
because they were forced to do so; instead, the goal was to produce subjects who were
obedient because they embodied the laws and norms. To achieve this goal, the very
10
Michel Foucault, History of Sexuality, Volume 1: An Introduction, trans. Robert Hurley (New York:
Vintage, 1990) 142-143. Hereafter abbreviated in the text as HS1.
98
nature of the subjectwho he was and not simply what he didhad to be altered.
Foucault illustrates this shift by pointing to new forms and techniques of discipline that
emerged in various fields throughout the eighteenth and nineteenth century. Concern
over prison reform shifted the focus away from physical pain and torture to rehabilitation.
Punishment was no longer about the criminal act, but about the criminal: prisoners were
disciplinary regimens that instilled the habits and behaviors that were considered
obedient, not because they were forced to be but because they had acquired the forms of
Disciplinary Power
power. Perhaps the most fundamental difference is that disciplinary power is productive
asymmetric relationship of giving and taking: subjects gave their labor or their service to
the king, and in return the king ensured their protection, for example. During the Thirty
Years War, the army operated according to sovereign power: men gave a certain amount
of time and resources in return for the spoils of war. Elsewhere, people labored for the
Church, and the Church provided religious services. In these operations of power, a
11
What Foucaults writing struggles against is that system of truth wherein the human individual is
constituted as a subject. This subjection has two aspects: on the one hand, the human being is subjected to
the ideology of the universal individual and, thereby, subjects and is subjected by others to the technology
of normalcy. On the other, he is subjected to the ideology of the selftied to his own identity by itand,
thereby, subjected to multiple technologies for its care and development, including techniques of self-
knowledge, conscience, and confession. Mary Rawlinson, Foucault's Strategy: Knowledge, Power, and
the Specificity of Truth, The Journal of Medicine and Philosophy 12.4 (1987): 391.
99
contractual relationship is at work, even if the parties are not equals. The kings
geopolitical agenda is met, and the soldiers receive remuneration for their efforts (PP, 42-
43).
seizes the body of the soldier, not its results. In other words, where sovereign power
simply used the kings subjects as an ad hoc fighting force, disciplinary power makes the
subject into a soldier. For example, by the seventeenth century, the emergence of
standing armies necessitated a new management approach: one cannot have large
numbers of armed men sitting idle. So the time, bodies, and lives of these men were co-
opted; their days were spent training, marching, and maintaining themselves as a fighting
force. Consequently, a soldier became a soldier for life, during war and during peace,
Disciplinary power is thus capable of seizing every aspect of subjects. And this
power (DP, 26-27). Of course, at one level the body has always been an object of power
since the sovereign always had the right to physically punish his subjects, but disciplinary
power represents something entirely new. The object of this power is the bodys
capabilities, its potential as a productive force. The goal is to render the body docile, to
make it something efficient, useful, and transformable. Thus the body receives training
that increases its efficiency and its ability to perform actions, not merely to signify power
relations.
Discipline increases the forces of the body (in economic terms of utility)
and diminishes these same forces (in political terms of obedience). In
short, it dissociates power from the body; on the one hand, it turns it into
an aptitude, a capacity, which it seeks to increase; on the other hand, it
100
reverses the course of energy, the power that might result from it, and
turns it into a relation of strict subjection. [] [D]isciplinary coercion
establishes in the body the constricting link between an increased aptitude
and an increased domination (DP, 138).
produce specific qualities in individuals. Peasant boys, for example, could be turned into
soldiers with the qualities and capabilities necessary for engaging in modern warfare.
These qualities are not innate or pre-existing; disciplines do not draw out what was
already there. Instead, disciplines instill qualities by cultivating the body of the
individual.12
This new emphasis on efficiency and productivity meant greater attention was
comportment. With the body as the focus, technicians and administrators are responsible
for this new form of power, not philosophers.13 What these technicians understood was
that the body is capable of incredible adaptation and greater manipulation. Given the
right practices and training regimens, it can be trained and reshaped. Through the
attention paid to an individuals form while she performs an action, her body is trained to
achieve specific goals (DP, 136). In acting on this realization, these administrators
developed a political technology of the body, i.e., a knowledge of the body that goes
beyond mere physiology (DP, 30). The regimens they designed comprised exercises that
imposed repetitive tasks on the body and introduced a whole other scale of attention:
12
Disciplines are to individuals what the individual in Lockes account is to the land cultivated by that
persona means of inculcating properties in the individual that were not there before (Ransom, 18).
13
[Foucaults] point is that these men, whose names are not familiar to most of us, laid down policies for
actual application. They elaborated precise techniques for ordering and disciplining individuals, while still
using the mainstream Western tradition of political thought to mask their particular tactics. [] For them,
political rationality no longer sought to achieve the good life nor merely to aid the prince, but to increase
the scope of power for its own sake by bringing the bodies of the states subjects under tighter discipline
(Dreyfus and Rabinow, Michel Foucault: Beyond Structuralism and Hermeneutics, 137).
101
there was a new focus on the smallest components. The most seemingly insignificant
gestures come into focus. Suddenly, for example, educators take notice of the proper
posture the student must take before practicing handwriting; attention is paid to how far
from the desk his torso is, how his hands are arranged. Military trainers show concern
over where a soldiers thumb should rest on his rifle. Discipline, in other words, attends
to details. For the disciplined man, as for the true believer, no detail is unimportant, but
not so much for the meaning that it conceals within it as for the hold it provides for the
power that wishes to seize it (DP, 140). The focus on details positions this micro-
physics of power to address hitherto unnoticed procedures and processes, and to exploit
them as the means by which power relations are invested in the body. By training (and
thereby enforcing) these particular postures, for example, the subjects body is reworked:
not only is it more obedient, but it is also more useful and efficient in the performance of
its operations. Thus, unlike sovereign power, this new power is a strategy of domination,
but domination without appropriation: disciplinary power does not seize the individual or
overtly force itself upon him. It creates or constitutes the individuals dispositions and
bodily movements by enacting a set of techniques for the individual to follow. One sees
how this form of power differs from that which came before: disciplinary power is
productive, not repressive. Rather than constraining subjects and restricting their actions,
14
As we will see, the process of instilling new capabilities imposes other costs: Normalizing disciplinary
practices may tremendously enhance a persons ability to perform certain kinds of functions or accomplish
certain kinds of tasks, but they decrease the number of different ways a person might be able to respond in
a given situation; they narrow behavioral options. Ladelle McWhorter, Bodies and Pleasures: Foucault
and the Politics of Sexual Normalization (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1999) 179-180.
102
Disciplinary Power Individualizes
As power takes on a more refined scale of control, it enacts a reversal of focus. Sovereign
relations individualize, but this individualization occurs at the summit of the hierarchy
and is only in relation to the sovereign himself. The king was the figure most readily
seen; his power was visibly manifest, whether in his actions, carried out directly or
indirectly, or in his person. The visible power of the sovereign was total, but it remained
at the surface: the everyday lives of the masses were not closely regulated; the only
intersection of an individual life and sovereign power came from violations of the law.
For the most part, the masses remained invisible and anonymous; they were insignificant
and unknown. All of this changes with disciplinary power: In a disciplinary regime,
193).
medicine, and educationwhat took prominence was no longer the sovereign, but the
subject. It is the subject who will be known as completely and in as much detail as
possible, while the individuals running the particular system will remain anonymous,
hidden by the machinery of power. Disciplinary power reverses these relations. Now, it
is power itself which seeks invisibility and the objects of powerthose on whom it
operatesare made the most visible.15 In the case of King George, for instance, George
the patient usurps the position of object of visibility George the king once held, while
Willis remains in the background, letting the normalizing system run its course.
15
Dreyfus and Rabinow, ibid., 159.
103
The visibility imposed by the reversal of individualization does more than merely
allow for the observation of the subject. Because the system and the practitioners within
the system are explicit in their bringing the subject to the fore, it makes the subject aware
that she is the object of observation. The student knows both the school and her parents
are tracking her work. The employee knows his supervisors will evaluate his
performance in annual reviews. This awareness does more than produce an obedient
subject. It is more insidious than that. It is meant to produce a subject who imposes
Nowhere is the constancy and force of this power so clearly seen as in Benthams
Panopticon. It is, Foucault says, the political and technical formulation of disciplinary
power (PP, 73).16 Bentham conceived an entirely new design for a prison in which
prisoners were confined to cells housed in a ring; at the center of this ring was a tower
that permitted a full view of every cell. Each cell had bars on one wall and, on the
opposite wall, a window that allowed light to pour into the cell. This backlighting made
it possible for authorities in the tower to see exactly what each prisoner was doing, but
the authorities themselves were hidden from view. This design produced a state of
16
Peter Dews maintains that the Panopticon encompasses the conception of power that Foucault has been
circling since his earliest works: It not only condenses the argument of Discipline and Punish, but may be
seen as a summation of the analysis of modern forms of social administration which Foucault has been
conducting ever since Madness and Civilization, combining the themes of a centralization, and increasing
efficiency of power with the theme of the replacement of overt violence by moralization. Peter Dews,
Power and Subjectivity in Foucault, New Left Review 144 (March-April 1984): 77.
104
permanent visibility for the prisoners; they never knew when they were being observed,
so they learned to act always as though they were. The brilliance of Benthams design
was its simplicity: discipline is imposed, but its only instrument is light (PP, 77-78). It is
violent; permanent, but efficient. It was not merely a schema; it was a multiplier. It
intensified power and distributed it more efficiently while rendering its targets more exact
(PP, 74). Part of the efficiency of this power relation was due its anonymity: no one is
fully or completely in control. The power that is operating on the prisoners is completely
divorced from those who exercise it. Power has its principle not so much in a person as
whose internal mechanisms produce the relation in which individuals are caught up (DP,
202). While there are people sitting at the head of its organization, it is the apparatus, the
machinery of power, that is really at work. There is nothing special about the person in
the tower observing the prisoners; the power of the guards derives only from their
Power is no longer about who holds it, but where it functions. Anyone can assume the
supervisory role; it is just a matter of having the proper training. In fact, even the
watchers are watched, making power into a continuous and anonymous band.
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Disciplinary Power is Continuous
Sovereign power relies on a founding moment, which makes it susceptible to rupture. It
maintain itself, and because of this reinforcement, violence underlies it. Take for
example the violent spectacle of Damienss being drawn and quartered that opens
Discipline and Punish: the ostensible purpose of this barbarous execution was to deter
other would-be assassins, but its primary purpose was to exhibit Louis XVs power.
Through such a spectacle, the king reasserted his role as the ultimate power on earth.
already caught. The system relies on organized techniques that enhance the productivity
architectural designs. But whatever their form, these technologies enable disciplinary
Disciplines control space in order to distribute subjects more effectively. In some cases,
this entails grouping people in an enclosed space, such as a workshop or college campus.
The goal is not to imprison, but to maximize advantages and minimize costs. Collecting
people in one location enables them to work more efficiently. And because many people
are living or working closely together in the same location, space has to be partitioned:
thus disciplinary space is divided up to distribute bodies and to facilitate the locating and
identifying of individuals. Each individual is given his or her own space because it
106
of functional sites: space can no longer be undefined; to be useful, it must be designated
exhaustion of time: there is the need to make the most of time. There is a refinement of
time and daily life into its smallest increments. The timetable governs daily life as time
itself is reduced to minutes and seconds in order to make all time useful and to minimize
distractions. At the same time, time penetrates the body: the body is made to adhere to a
specific rhythm. Because time is best used when the body is used correctly, a new
emphasis is placed on the gesture. Frederick Taylors motion studies are a nice example
of this.17 With the analysis of the gesture, one begins to examine the bodys relation to
objects: there is what Foucault calls an instrumental coding of the body in which the
body is broken down into parts that correlate to parts of the object being used (DP, 153).
Learning to drive a stick shift, for example, demands the coordination of all four of limbs
as they perform specific and different actions simultaneouslythe right foot depresses
the gas pedal, the left foot releases the clutch, the right arm pushes the shifter into gear,
and the left arm steersall while navigating through traffic. We can do this only because
at an earlier point we practiced making our bodies perform each action. After trial and
error (and, perhaps, burning out a clutch or two), we work as one with car, and this new
having it function as a series. Time is divided into specific segments and organized
17
For an examination of Taylorism in light of Foucault, see John ONeill, The Disciplinary Society: From
Weber to Foucault, The British Journal of Sociology 37.1 (Mar., 1986): 42-60.
107
ones place in the plan, and each segment concludes with an exam to determine the
individuals ability and to guarantee that the proper level of proficiency has been reached.
Exercises are graduated techniques that impose repetitive and varied tasks on the body.
They aim at a specific point that allows for assessment either in relation to that point or to
others. What develops is a series showing each individuals rank. All of this ensures the
practice to the highest level and composes forces. Disciplines bring individual bodies
together to function as a coherent force, e.g., armies, workers, sports teams. The
individual body is now understood as an element that can be moved about to other places.
Time is adjusted to form a whole: the time of each individual is incorporated into the
larger process, e.g., schools using students to tutor other students makes learning
Every element has its place in the disciplinary system just as every individual has
his or her rank in the system. All movement within the system is thus clearly regulated.
Even movements between disciplinary systems are regulated since different systems
articulate power between them. Historically, there has been an interplay between the
courts and the military, for example, and between the educational system and factories.
Institutions of all types exist in a carceral web, that is, the growing continuum that
extends from prisons to any organization that employs disciplinary procedures in order to
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improvement associations, workers lodging housesare not prisons; rather, they
adopted some of the methods developed and perfected within prisons. In these cases,
however, the point is not to punish. This web is meant to prevent the downward slide
that now exists between minor offences, deviations from the norms of acceptable
behavior, and delinquency (DP, 299). By establishing this link and by presenting the role
punish natural and legitimate, in lowering at least the threshold of tolerance to penality
(DP, 301).
away from the subject as sovereign. Concerns with domination and coercion must give
way since the consent of the subject, her willingness to be acted upon by power, is no
longer at issue. Disciplinary power operates beneath the level of coercion and consent.
a constant pressure to conform to the same model, so that they might all be subjected to
subordination, docility, attention in studies and exercises, and to the correct practice of
duties and all the parts of discipline. So that they might all be like one another (DP,
182). Consequently, there is a shift in the kinds of subjects that get produced: no longer
is the subject a juridical subject, i.e., one that obeys the laws because of societal pressures
to do so; one is now constituted as an obedient subject who embodies the laws and norms
because he has acquired the forms of behavior that make him so. Individuals existed
fundamentally different. The modern individual qua subject does not pre-exist
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disciplinary power (PP, 56). By producing subjects, disciplinary power produces
This stands in marked opposition to the relations within sovereign power, which
are not isotopic: they do not constitute a unitary hierarchical table with the subordinate
elements and the superordinate elements (PP, 43). The relations of sovereign power are
heterogeneous: there are relations of sovereignty between the king and the subject,
between priest and the laity, and between landowner and the serf. But all these
relationships cannot be integrated within a genuinely single system (PP, 43-44). There
is no clear common denominator between the king, the priest, and the landowner, for
example. And without any common denominator, sovereign power becomes costly and
inefficient to scale.
Disciplinary power, on the other hand, allows for homogeneity because it posits a
The norm is, Foucault says, one of the great instruments of power (DP, 184). It
imposes homogeneity while singling out individuals, and it does this through assessment.
Examinations, for instance, whether they are medical examinations, psychological tests,
his performance they determine how closely he approximates a norm and what further
18
McWhorter, 156.
110
training might be necessary. Those who fall outside the accepted parameters of what is
Norms show the ubiquity of power and its role in all forms of human relations.
All the training associated with disciplinary power requires a norm by which to judge
and rank those undergoing the regimen. While the training is directed at individuals, the
power to judge what is normal is no longer reserved for a select few; everyone is in a
position to judge: We are in the society of the teacher-judge, the doctor-judge, the
educator-judge, the social worker-judge; it is on them that the universal reign of the
normative is based; and each individual, wherever he may find himself, subjects it to his
body, his gestures, his behavior, his aptitudes, his achievements (DP, 304). These
judges, themselves already sufficiently normalized and part of the disciplinary apparatus,
establish the norms to be used for approval or disapproval. Such norms are not arbitrary
or permanent: the very individuals that are produced by the particular disciplines
establish them, and they change as the discipline and its training methods change.
While disciplinary power produces individuals who operate within the disciplinary
system, it also produces a residue, that which is unclassifiable (PP, 53). Disciplinary
power creates the very individuals it seeks to recoup: [A]s soon as you have a
disciplined army, that is to say people who join the army, make a career of it, follow a
certain track, and are supervised from end to end, then the deserter is someone who
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escapes this system and is irreducible to it (PP, 53).19 The formation of scholarly
Delinquents appear only with police discipline. And mental illness is the residue of all
The constant division between the normal and the abnormal, to which
every individual is subjected, brings us back to our own time, by applying
the binary branding and exile of the leper to quite different objects; the
existence of a whole set of techniques and institutions for measuring,
supervising and correcting the abnormal brings into play the disciplinary
mechanisms to which the fear of the plague gave rise. All the mechanisms
of power which, even today, are disposed around the abnormal individual,
to brand him and to alter him, are composed of those two forms from
which they distantly derive (DP, 199-200).
Foucault points out that within normalizing systems, greater attention is paid to that
While Foucault has ceased using the vocabulary of transgression, we can see that the
Abnormal individuals transgress social and institutional norms; they exceed those limits,
but only momentarily before they are recovered by the normalizing systems. It is
19
Rawlinson points out that this pattern is repeated throughout institutionalized systems, whether they are
aimed at social functions or academic knowledge of the natural world. There can be no truths or
falsehoods about quarks or schizophrenia outside of the sciences that posit them. The very discourse that is
supposed to discover the reality of the things being, the truth of disease itself or of physical space and time
in themselves, has always already actively contributed to the constitution of the object. This is the closure
of the system of truth (Rawlinson, 377).
112
[D]isciplinary power has this double property of being anomizing, that is
to say, always discarding certain individuals, bringing anomie, the
irreducible, to light, and of always being normalizing, that is to say,
inventing ever new recovery systems, always reestablishing the rule. What
characterizes disciplinary systems is the never-ending work of the norm in
the anomic (PP, 54).
As with the lepers, those deemed abnormal and exiled are not simply thrown out; they are
situated in a system that renders them other to solidify the realm of the same. But, as
madman is trained to act sane, the criminal is conditioned to serve as his own warden, the
student is educated and rewarded for achieving the goals defined and set by the school.
These processes simultaneously identify the other as the subject who will not or cannot
accept the norms of the system: the delinquent is sent to the reformatory because he will
not adhere to the norms of general society; the worker is fired because she cannot alter
her behavior to meet the expectations of the workplace. Normalization constructs forms
of life, and it is the individuals ability to function within these forms that determine her
treatment by the system. The abnormal individual becomes the object of focus; we who
are not in asylums, who are not in prisons, who are not in hospitals are not because we
disciplinary power; we do not simply live in it, we flourish in it according to the rules of
not confined to the institutional level. Normalizing forces extend their reach into the
113
intersubjective realm. At the same time, we will see how Foucaults developing
understanding of power reveals the subtle dynamics at work within this economy.
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Chapter 5: Intersubjective Economies of Power and Resistance
relations in which one directs or attempts to direct the behavior of the other. But,
he tells us, these relations are never fixed: they are not given once and for all.1
Rather, power relations remain always open, always modifiable; they occur at
different levels and assume different forms. These relations get modified
because, despite the ubiquity of normalizing power, the subject is not reduced to a
merely passive recipient. A mentally ill subject, for example, constitutes himself
as such within his relationship with the doctor who determines that he is mentally
ill. The practices through which this self-constitution occurs are patterns that he
finds in his culture and which are proposed, suggested and imposed on him by his
culture, his society and his social group (ECS, 11). Even with these imposed
system that produces the subject, she still constitutes herself freely; this freedom
options and patterns and recognizable forms of life, but it does not produce
tension with the normalizing forces at work on the subject; they introduce
1
Michel Foucault, The Ethic of Care for the Self as a Practice of Freedom, in The Final
Foucault, ed. J. Bernauer and D. Rasmussen (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1988) 12. Hereafter
abbreviated in the text as ECS.
2
On this difference between power and domination, see McWhorter, 146; and Jana Sawicki,
Disciplining Foucault: Feminism, Power, and the Body (New York: Routledge, 1991) 25.
115
uncertainty into the system. But it is through this tension that the system
develops.
power, although the sovereign remains the model of our traditional understanding
of how power functions within society. This chapter will trace the development
recognizes the nuanced interplay of power and subjects efforts to resist the
modernizers like Bentham, power extends to the intersubjective realm and flows
power, viz. the discovery that power is a developmental force that co-opts any
available form of life. One of the most apparent forms is the family. For
intense focus for normalizing forces; and, once normalizing power takes hold,
familial relationships opened channels that furthered its reach. In the process of
scales and how efforts to avoid normalization invariably operate in the service of
it, thereby creating a positive feedback loop that mirrors the dynamic that we will
find in Derrida.
psychiatry functions as the normalizing practice par excellence: From the little
116
sovereignty of the family up to the general and solemn form of the law, psychiatry
Foucaults lectures of the early 1970s, we see how psychiatry moves from the
government of the mad within the asylum to entirely new domains, such as the
the family, we can see an instance of how normalizing power operates in a fluid
The Family
parents and children. At the same time, the family is essential to any disciplinary
system because it is the family that introduces individuals into the system, e.g.
parents send their children to school.4 The family also serves as a point of contact
for different disciplinary systems: those deemed abnormal by one system are sent
back to their family, where they are then transferred to another system (PP, 82).
At the end of the eighteenth century, sex became a state concern and, as as
a result, the family began to play a new role in the management of society.
3
Michel Foucault, Abnormal: Lectures at the Collge de France, 1974-1975, trans. G. Burchell,
eds. V. Marchetti and A. Salomoni (New York: Picador, 2003) 276. Hereafter abbreviated in the
text as A.
4
[Statistical] representations established population as a higher order phenomenon of which the
family constituted one aspect. An effect of this was a displacement of the family as a model of
government and its adoption instead as a privileged instrument for the regulation or management
of the population, the principal source of information and target for population campaigns (e.g.,
on mortality, marriage, vaccinations, etc.) (Smart, 129).
117
institutions: sexual practices and desires were concerns for the Church, not the
state. Now, new technologies arose that assumed secular forms: these included
areas of pedagogy (which took one of its functions to be monitoring the sexuality
of children), medicine (which began dealing with the sexuality of women), and
These technologies turned the bodies of individuals into particular dispotifs, i.e.,
constructed unities. What gets unified are certain forms of knowledge and power.
both natural and unnatural and thus warranted constant supervision. For women,
repressed sexuality induced hysteria, which in turn situated the patient at the
intersection of the family and medical practices. The fertile couple became an
power that congealed around sexuality did not aim at sublimating the sexual
energy of the working class into labor energy. The bourgeoisie was the object of
were not foisted upon them; the bourgeoisie willingly tried them on themselves.
their own. If ancestry and blood defined the body of the aristocracy, children and
sex would define the body of the bourgeoisie. The goal was to extend ones life
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and health indefinitely, which meant the health of ones family became socially
important.
Poor health within the family led to perversions in ones offspring, the
medicalization of sex: by ensuring ones sexual health, doctors ensured the health
technology for the sexual instinct. They turned the bourgeois family into a place
of sexual saturation: the family came to be regarded as harboring the potential for
out any sexuality, making sexuality a concern for the family, and proclaiming
itself the final authority on the issue. The psychiatrist becomes the family doctor
in both senses of the term: He is the doctor who is called for by the family, who is
constituted as a doctor by the will of the family; but he is also the doctor who has
to treat something that takes place within the family (A, 146-147). This
interaction between psychiatry and the family, however, grew even closer once
119
intended for these children or as instructions given to bourgeois families, that the
struggle against masturbation become the order of the day (A, 237). What
makes this crusade and the extensive medical discourses surrounding it especially
noteworthy is its departure from the preceding Christian discourse on the flesh: it
does not address the issues of desire or pleasure. The underlying motive for
medicine was not moral; the driving force behind this sudden attention was the
illness or, at least, a considerable number of symptoms. All the signs of illness
are superimposed in the masturbators emaciated and ravaged body (A, 237-
hunchbacks and one poor peasant woman who lost her nose.5 Death is
impending, which, the doctors tell us, will be a merciful end to so much suffering.
meningitis and encephalitis to heart disease and blindness. Third, doctors preyed
upon the hypochondria of young people, convincing them that any symptom they
5
Jean Stegners and Anne van Neck, Masturbation: The History of a Great Terror, trans. Kathryn
Hofmann (New York: Palgrave, 2001) 7 and 81.
120
This somatization established masturbation as an etiology linking
consequences are incalculable. But whatever the results, the responsibility fell on
the patient, even a child. The child thus became responsible for his or her whole
naturally; it is something a child learns. Doctors dismissed the idea that its
desire to exonerate the child somehow, or at least the childs nature, from this
for everything that will happen to him (A, 243). But if the child is not guilty,
who is? Children, the doctors tell us, learn to masturbate from two possible
sources: by chance stimuli or by an adult. It is the latter that became the target of
the crusade. The baleful influence was particularly troubling since it occurred
within the household: Servants, governesses, private tutors, uncles, aunts, and
cousins will all come between the parents virtue and the childs natural
the home are the source of evil. They are certainly culpable, yet even they are not
the most blameworthy. So who is? The parents. Their laziness and inattention
have created an unhealthy home for their child: they have handed off their child to
others to raise; and it is precisely there, in the family space constituted by these
other adults, that the child learns a practice that will be his or her ruin.
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The only solution to this was to reorganize the space of the family and
at the very least, closely watched. But the real object of supervision must be the
child: Parents must keep a lookout all around their children, over their clothes
and bodies. The childs body must be the object of their permanent attention.
[] Parents must read their childs body like a blazon or as the field of possible
signs of masturbation (A, 245). The body of the child becomes the locus of
concern for both parents and doctors. Numerous texts are written advising
Recommendations were made regarding the choice of beds (no soft blankets or
marble), baths, exercises (one doctor suggested keeping a set of parallel bars on
hand), and diet (avoid spices and rich meats and, at all costs, salty fish).6
shift in the family: until this point, the bourgeois family was a relational system
comprising myriad ancestors and kinship relations, all of which limned sexual
relations. What we have now is a cellular family replacing the relational family,
6
Stegners and van Neck, 10-11.
122
The family becomes the agent of medicalization as it assumes the role of
producing healthy children and, therefore, healthy adults. Whereas the primary
function of marriage had previously been the intersection of two family lines, the
new role of the conjugal relation was the formation of a new adult individual (PK,
173). Childhood and their proper management became a central problem (PK,
172). Thus new obligations and duties within the family emerged; new norms
regarding nursing, physical hygiene, parental attention, and proper exercise were
put into place and governed the relations. The family is no longer to be just a
Within this new space, the parents have absolute control over the child, but the
of the child serves a medical purpose and medical knowledge serves as the model
relationship; in fact, Foucault says, the former extends the latter. Parental control
relay or transmission belt between the childs body and the doctors technique
123
It is this family that reveals, and which from the first decades of
the nineteenth century can reveal, the normal and the abnormal in
the sexual domain. The family becomes not only the basis for the
determination and distinction of sexuality but also for the
rectification of the abnormal (A, 254).
Controlling the sexuality of children was a fools errand: masturbation could not
be prevented. Nor was it ever going to be. Rejecting the Reichian claim that
normalizing power that reorganized the relations between parents and children
instrument for its expansion. The objective was not to forbid. It was to
mysterious, a network of power over children (FL, 141). The process and space
spaces. Parental observation became part of the natural education of children, i.e.,
rules for securing the survival of the children on the one hand and their training
and normalized development on the other (A, 255). In the context of this natural
education, parents were asked to enter into a bargain: they were to be responsible
for the sexual development of their child, and in return, the State agreed to
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[A] process of exchange is called for: Take good care of your childrens
lives and health for us, of their physical strength, obedience, and ability, so
that we can put them through the machine of the system of State
education, instruction, and training over which you have no control (A,
257).
Both the State and parents needed normal children, but according to this
arrangement, the familial space would always retain the sexual body of the child
arrangement was a trap, a trick for parents (A, 257-258). They give up their
childrens sexuality within the safe confines of the family.7 In effect, they opened
the space of the family to the State. Rather than caricaturing these families as
prudes or bluenoses, we have to recognize that they were simply trying to ensure
their children remained healthy and grew into productive and successful
strategic games. [] I dont see where evil is in the practice of someone who, in a
given name of truth, knowing more than another, tells him what he must do,
18). And this is the insidious nature of normalizing power: those with the most
direct influence over us and with our best intentions at heart are the primary
7
Looking ahead to the chapter 6 and Derridas comparison of the gift with counterfeit money, we
should note here that Foucault refers to the idea of controlling the development of a childs
sexuality as a worthless fictional element, worthless money (A, 258). Parents hand over their
children to the State (and the sacrifice of ones child will be another Derridean theme examined in
chapter 7) only to receive a false ideal in return.
125
because we care. Naturally, these relationships are supported and reinforced by
teacher who serves as mentor, who gives her time and energy far beyond what the
institution requires, functioning only as a part of the larger system? Certainly not.
Her motivation stems from a genuine interest in her student. But that genuine
stresses that power relations are found at every point of human existence; they are
126
We are, then, all of us, simultaneously normalized and normalizing. Most of the
is so banal that we fail to recognize it. When I bought my house, it needed a new
exterior; the old one was in bad condition compared to other houses on the street.
As the exterior was being replaced, a number of people stopped by to tell us how
great the house looked. This was not a conscious (or unconscious) effort at
approved of.8 Improving ones property is what is normally done. Norms are
communicated and enforced in this way, and we accept them because they have
unintentional. This is a departure from the usual understanding of the other found
arguing that this failing limits the ethical impact of his thought.
8
For a classic sociological study of such interaction, see George C. Homans, Social Behavior as
Exchange, American Journal of Sociology 63 (May 1958): 597-606.
127
of totalization and normalization. Only the other ultimately reveals
the limits of subjectivity and gives the attempts to transgress them
an ethical meaning.9
therefore does not regard the other as a radical alterity. The other does not resist
partner. This is the source of what Butler calls the inaugurative alienation:
her own choosing. But for Foucault the subject is not relegated to a position of
pure passivity with regard to power. She has the ability to recognize these
But if normalization produces and thus precedes the subject, and if there is
no way to step outside of power, how is resistance possible? How can the subject
9
Johanna Oskala, Foucault on Freedom (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2005) 207.
10
Judith Butler, The Psychic Life of Power: Theories in Subjection (Stanford: Stanford University
Press, 1997) 28.
128
recognize his own subjection to normalization? And, having recognized it, how
Resistance is, first of all, not an escape from power. It remains within
power relations. And, like power, it is not a single, unified thing. Rather,
and like power, these points are fluid: the points, knots, or focuses of resistance
are spread over time and space at varying densities, at times mobilizing groups or
rights advocates are challenging the idea that autism is a developmental disorder;
normalization because the docility these systems engender is never total.11 There
is always a structural freedom: the disciplines that inculcate capacities in the body
create the conditions that allow for the body to work against those disciplines,
especially since the body is never the target of only one discipline. The child
whose body is being disciplined to write is also being taught to kick a soccer ball
or play the piano. All of these normalizing practices create a body that is the
focus of multiple power relations and therefore the site of potential conflict.
11
Brent L. Pickett, Foucault & the Politics of Resistance, Polity 28.4 (Summer, 1996): 458.
129
Mastery and awareness of ones own body can be acquired only
through the effect of an investment of power in the body. All of
this belongs to the pathway leading to the desire of ones own
body, by way of the insistent, persistent, meticulous work of power
on the bodies of children or soldiers, the healthy bodies. But once
power produces this effect, there inevitably emerge the responding
claims and affirmations, those of ones own body against power, of
health against the economic system, of pleasure against the moral
norms of sexuality, marriage, decency. Suddenly, what had made
power strong becomes used to attack it. Power, after investing
itself in the body, finds itself exposed to counterattack in that same
body (PK, 56).
sufficient causes for resistance.12 Such conflicts require an effort on the part of
the subject to cultivate her own style. To do that, however, requires recognizing
strategy.13
define ourselves as sexual beings are historical constructs. It is the form sex takes
power. But its formation is more than just the internalization of power by the
12
On this view, Foucault avoids reifying resistance since it is nothing in itself; resistance is only a
singular configuration of forces of power. See John Muckelbauer, On Reading Differently:
Through Foucaults Resistance, College English 63.1 (September 2000): 79.
13
[F]reedom lies in our capacity to discover the historical inks between certain modes of self-
understanding and modes of domination, and to resist the ways in which we have already been
classified and identified by dominant discourses. This means discovering new ways of
understanding ourselves and each other, refusing to accept the dominant cultures
characterizations of our practices and desires, and redefining them from within resistant cultures
(Sawicki, 43-44).
130
subject. It links tactics of power in accordance with strategies of knowledge and
power, thereby reinforcing what society needs to operate along normal lines of
becomes integral to resisting these normalized forms of sexuality, but that is only
relations (HS1, 95). To see how this occurs, we can return to Foucaults
normalizing process allows for the expansion of power that follows a circular
pattern: medical rationality instills fears about the childs sexuality; the parents
are blamed and enjoined to save their child. So they reorganize the family space
instill fears about the childs sexuality and press for more access. A similar
century, marital relations were the focus of sexual concern; issues of sexual
deviancy were problematic insofar as they violated the rules of marriage. Marked
by its stability, the married couple was the norm for sexual behavior. But by the
nineteenth century, there was a shift in focus as attention turned away from the
quiet and stable (and therefore uninteresting) married couple to what Foucault
imply that perversions were a creation of this historical period. There were
certainly those with unconventional sexual tastes prior to the nineteenth century.
But as with his study of madness, Foucaults claim here is that pervert was not a
131
form of subjectivity until perversions became autonomous and specified objects
within the field of sexuality. Once that shift occurred, perversions were implanted
refer to what one does; one now is a pervert. A consequent of this altered focus
was the penetration by both power and pleasure into these other forms of sexual
relations of power to sex and pleasure branched out and multiplied, measured the
body, and penetrated modes of conduct (HS1, 48). This demonstrates the
productive rather than prohibitive nature of power. Power is not the power of a
taboo or law. In fact, it operates in just the opposite manner: rather than
First, power expands the lines of penetration through its very object. In
the case of childhood masturbation, the practice itself and the sexuality of
enlisted to monitor children and protect them from the dangers inherent in such
vices. But the truth is that this dangerous vice and the power that seeks to
14
Deviant individuals help rather than hinder normalizations spread, even if they themselves
arent ever brought into conformity with the ideal, because they help disciplinary technicians learn
how development works and how to intervene in it. For normalizing disciplinarians, natural
bodies are a living resource that, theoretically at least, can be endlessly remade, but like nature
itself, natural bodies encountered first in their essential stubbornness, their resistance to the
projects of civilized man. Natures resistance doesnt frighten normalizing theoreticians; quite the
reverse. Resistance is exactly what excites and attracts them, because they seek to use the power
that expresses itself in that stubbornness (McWhorter, 203).
132
an ineradicable enemy. Far from being a deterrent, however, it supports the
multiplied its relays and effects, while its target expanded, subdivided, and
branched out, penetrating further into reality at the same pace (HS1, 42). The
strengthen their hold on the family. Power relations come to depend upon this
ubiquitous) foe like terror, the disciplinary political forces have created the very
means of their own expansion. Governmental powers can penetrate further into
the lives of civilians and undermine human rights and civil libertiesall in the
name of rooting out terrorism. In the process, more and more of the government
Where perversions had been regarded as mere variations on the sexual act, they
Foucault examines the moral questions the ancient Greeks raised about the love of
boys. For the Greeks, the issue was about maintaining a proper relationship to
pleasure: a man should always remain the active partner and never subordinate
himself. The mans identity, though, was never reduced to his sexual proclivities.
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In the mid-1800s, however, the individual was characterized by his sexual
sensibility; his homosexuality became the defining attribute by which all his other
actions and behavior can be understood. Nothing that went into his total
less as a habitual sin than as a singular nature (HS1, 43). This was the case with
could study and catalog according to finer and finer distinctions. While on the
surface the goal was to cure individuals of these aberrant tastes, power was in fact
Third, power and pleasure relate through a feedback loop in which they
reinforce each other. The attention and observation of bodies and practices by
power produces its own pleasure; it is a form of attraction that draws out the
These spirals of pursuit and evasion lead power to dig deeper and extend its reach.
family, for instance, comes to be understood as a site where children and parents
134
and servants intermingle; therefore, constant attention must be given to sexuality.
But this is the case for any space where interpersonal contact occurs. Power and
pleasure constitute a network, and this network infuses various relational spaces
(HS1, 46).
normalizing forces is co-opted by those forces. What Foucault finds is that power
operates not only through its disciplinary applications to the body, but through the
efforts of subjects to refuse and block that power. It turns out that resisting power
resists by creating forms of life and engaging in practices that either conceal or
advertise his abnormality. But these acts of resistance allow particular forces to
expand so that eventually the abnormality is rendered normal. Then the subject
insofar as it creates new forms of life and new ways of being a subject, it creates
the conditions that allow normalizing power to spread to new areas. The new
15
"The various rules, limits, and norms history has placed upon us, which are often seen as
natural, are the sources of exclusion, marginalization, and the resulting solidification of identity
for those who 'confine their neighbors.' Through transgression it is possible to undermine these
135
The expansion of power via acts of resistance and the support that
who descended on the Victorian family did not orchestrate the situation to gain
greater influence over the family; this was not some grand conspiracy. Power
are not directed. This cooperative relationship of power and pleasure is visible
only at a distance. At the local level, one might find explicitly articulated tactics
that link up with other tactics, and these organic structures create comprehensive
systems; but these systems are beyond anyones or any one groups control: the
logic is perfectly clear, the aims decipherable, and yet it is often the case that no
one is there to have invented them, and few who can be said to have formulated
them (HS1, 95). The fluidity of these systems, their ability to combine and
separate with each other as necessary, is what allows for their tolerance and
utilization of acts of resistance: because resistance takes place within power, these
The forms of subjectivity and the forms of life we create for ourselves are
always already potential resources for normalization. In other words, our acts of
resistance and our refusals to be who we are are only temporary. Those acts
that is said be inscribed in the very mechanisms we are trying to denounce? Well,
I think it is absolutely necessary that it should happen this way: if the discourse
limits, although new ones will always arise. This affirmation of difference is thus a permanent
agonistic stance" (Pickett, 450).
136
inscribed in a process of struggle.16 Any resistance becomes a normalizing
system. Take for example the phenomenon of teenage girls and young women
themselves as sufferers of a disorder, they are resisting the normalizing labels that
these young women can only maintain this position outside the established norms
for a limited time; those same doctors and psychologists are now examining this
act of resistance and, in the process, expanding their normalizing reach. But there
is a deeper irony at work here: the ad hoc communities that emerge through these
wannarexics those who only want to lose weight and are not true believers.
Within this particular form of resistance, there are certain measures, certain ways
struggle and how power co-opts a discourse. Queer theory, Halperin points out,
theorizing sexual pleasure and desire.17 The difficulty and the danger that queer
little more than what used to be signified by lesbian and gay studies, queer
16
Michel Foucault, An Interview with Michel Foucault, in David Halperin, Saint Foucault:
Towards a Gay Hagiography (New York: Oxford, 1995) 114.
17
Ibid., 113.
137
theory seems to have forfeited, in this process, much of its political utility [as a
academic discipline, the less queer queer theory can plausibly claim to be.18
With queer theory, that momentary act of resistance allowed power to spread:
to undermine. What Halperin shows is that we can create forms of life that resist
normalization, but these forms of life are always already providing for greater
normalization.
feedback loop: it is not merely the case that there is nothing outside of power;
power continually expands or reshapes itself with our efforts to escape it. In the
next two chapters, we will turn to Derrida where we will find the same logic
18
Ibid.
138
Chapter 6: The Madness of the Gift
In the next two chapters, I want to set aside the question of power and examine
the theme of the gift as it evolves in later Derrida. The gift was a long-standing theme in
concept, i.e., it is a concept that undermines the very conditions of its own conceptual
nature and therefore introduces play into any system. For my purposes, the interplay of
gifts and economies provides us with a model for understanding Foucauldian power in a
new light.
In this chapter, I will focus on the analysis of the gift as it is developed in Given
Time, Derridas first sustained examination of the gift.1 In this text Derrida pulls together
two distinct but tightly interwoven threads: the sociological studies of gift exchange
phenomenological analysis of the givenness of the gift. This twofold examination allows
him to draw out the structure of the gift, a structure Robyn Horner boils down to two
basic conditions. First, she says, the gift must be free: it must be a sacrifice given with no
thought of return. Second, the gift must be present: it must be recognizable as a gift.2 As
Derridas analyses show, these conditions are basic, but far from simple. They turn out to
be mutually exclusive and to constitute a fundamental aporia: a free gift always exacts a
cost, and a recognized gift necessitates a reciprocal and economic relationship that
1
Jacques Derrida, Given Time: 1. Counterfeit Money, trans. Peggy Kamuf (Chicago: University of Chicago
Press, 1992). Hereafter abbreviated in the text as GT.
2
Robyn Horner, Rethinking God as Gift: Marion, Derrida, and the Limits of Phenomenology (New York:
Fordham University Press, 2001) 4.
139
The Sociology of the Gift
understand. I give a birthday present to my wife. A family gives a party for one of its
members. A village gives a herd of cattle to another village. Giving follows the simple
any object, physical or symbolic, singular or plural. Whoever gives, whoever receives,
and whatever is given, gifts are generally understood to be sacrifices: I give something up
giving. The gift immediately thrusts A and C into a system of exchangedespite the
intentions of either party. When I give my wife a gift, I alsounknowingly and certainly
unwillinglyimpose upon her a debt that will remain until she reciprocates. We have all
had the experience of receiving a gift and feeling the obligation that we must get him (or
her or them) something. Any gift creates an imbalance that demands restoration. How
it is restored, the specifics of giving a counter-giftwhen to give it, how long to wait
before doing so, how much (or how little) to giveare all determined by more or less
strict social codes that vary from society to society. But regardless of the particulars, a
gift must be given in return. Failure to do so will have lasting effects: we might lose
status, lose a friend, orat the very leastlose a little sleep because of a vague sense of
psychic debt is paid, the relationship is balanced, and all accounts return to zero.
The gift became a prominent theme for sociologists and anthropologists with the
groundbreaking working of Marcel Mauss. In The Gift: The Form and Reason for
140
Exchange in Archaic Societies, Mauss shows that the gift comprises a nexus of social
practices and establishes a bond between individuals that serves as the heart of
community formation; subsequent exchanges only strengthen that bond. 3 What Mauss
offers is an evolutionary account of how the exchange arising out of individual interests
In Given Time, Derrida turns his attention to Mauss and contends that his
evolutionary account points up a basic misunderstanding of the gift: One could go so far
as to say that a work as monumental as Marcel Mausss The Gift speaks of everything but
the gift: It deals with economy, exchange, contract, it speaks of raising the stakes,
sacrifice, gift and countergiftin short, everything that in the thing itself impels the gift
and the annulment of the gift (GT, 24). Mausss work, important as it is, never really
comes to grips with the gift. It never questions the concept of the gift itself. This is
important because a gift, Derrida will argue, is more problematic than Mauss assumes. A
gift, the very concept of a gift, turns out to be unstable. Derrida does not fault Mauss for
failing to recognize the problematic nature of the gift; he does, however, believe that we
need to think more carefully about what it means to give. What we find upon closer
inspection is that gifts are inextricably linked to economic relations. On the one hand,
Mauss reminds us that there is no gift without bond, without bind, without obligation or
ligature; but on the other hand, there is no gift that does not have to untie itself from
obligation, from debt, contract, exchange, and thus from the bind (GT, 27). These
3
Mauss, The Gift: The Form and Reason for Exchange in Archaic Societies, trans. W. D. Halls (New York:
W.W. Norton, 1990). The literature on this issue is both vast and fascinating. See, for example, Annette B.
Weiner, Inalienable Possessions: The Paradox of Keeping-While-Giving (Berkeley: University of
California, 1992); Maurice Godelier, The Enigma of the Gift, trans. Nora Scott (Chicago: University of
Chicago, 1996); Barry Schwartz, The Social Psychology of the Gift, American Journal of Sociology 73.1
(July, 1967): 1-11; James Carrier, Gifts, Commodities, and Social Relations: A Maussian View of
Exchange, Sociological Forum 6.1 (1991): 119-136; Jonathan Parry, The Gift, the Indian Gift, and the
Indian Gift, Man, New Series 21.3 (Sept. 1986): 453-473.
141
economic relations arise because of the two key dimensions of gift exchange Mauss
posits: obligatory transfer and mutually obligated individuals. Every gift creates an
obligation to reciprocate; therefore, every giver places every receiver in his or her debt.
For Mauss, these are still gifts. For Derrida, Mauss misses the way in which the counter-
gift instantaneously erases the gift and replaces it with exchange; he misses the necessary
(but impossible) distinction that must obtain between gifts and economic relationships.
Here, then, for Derrida, is the fundamental paradox of the gift: to truly give a gift,
there must be no debt or obligation or return whatsoever; but any giftno matter how
Reciprocity produces an economic relationship, which nullifies the original gift. The gift
can have nothing to do with exchange, but the giftcounter-gift dynamic is precisely
that. In the end, my gift to you costs me nothing because I get something of equal value
in return. When I give my gift, I essentially buy your gratitude or your counter-gift or
your indebtedness. I have given nothing. The image of two people giving each other the
same DVD for Christmas illustrates just how exchange nullifies the gift: nothing has been
given because nothing has been lost; parity is restored instantly. The relationships Mauss
examines are, therefore, not gift relationships. Instead, they are essentially exchanges of
consists of two elements: the oikos, the hearth or the home; and nomos, the law, the law
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of distribution (nemein), the law of sharing or partition, the law as partition (moira), the
given or assigned part, participation (GT, 6). As the law of the hearth, economy relates
wasted and that expenses equal income. Any economy is directed with an eye toward a
return on investment that is at least equal to the resources that have been expended, if not
more. Within this restricted economic framework is the broader logic of lack and
demand: resources are limited and must therefore be utilized in an efficient and effective
manner; utility must be maximized. The figure of the economy is the circle: resources go
out and resources come in. It is the nature of an economy to seek closure. Sooner or
later, the books must balance, and all debits and credits must equal zero. The circle must
be complete; the system must find equilibrium. Such is the operative logic of quid pro
quo. We pay out with one hand while receiving with the other, which is precisely what is
wrong with the image of giving proffered by Mauss: whether it is gifts exchanged around
the Christmas tree or the movement of goods through the Kula Ring, giving as Mauss
There are systemic forces governing economies that must be obeyed, the most
basic of which is that what goes out must equal what comes in. Seeking a return on
expended resources requires prudence. For an economy to function, we must weigh our
options, allocate our assets carefully, and pursue the course of action that will maximize
household, a multi-national corporation, or a nation, can simply give things away and still
hope to succeed. This is why a gift flies in the face of economic order. It is counter to
moderation and rationality. To give a pure gift, one must forgo any weighing of options
143
and give without any thought to long-term benefits or costs (GT, 38). This means giving
without hope or thought of return, which is, in the eyes of homo oeconomicusthe
The gift is therefore excessive, and for Derrida this excess marks the supplanting
economic thinking is discursive: we can explain why homo oeconomicus does what he
does and why an economic system behaves as it does. But the gift is beyond economic
thinking and, because it is outside of rationality, no explanation can be offered for it.4
[T]here can never be a reason for giving (if there were, once again the gift would no
giving by offering some sort of account, by trying to give reasons, I would have to drag
the act back into the realm of the rational. I would be situating the gift within an
economic framework since I would be giving for some reason. The gift is without why:
The gift would be that which does not obey the principle of reason: it is, it ought to be,
it owes itself to be without reason, without wherefore, and without foundation (GT,
156).
Without the principle of reason to govern it, the gift is irrational. It is also
irresponsible. Our economic relations impose a sense of duty and responsibility upon us
by reminding us what we owe to the other and how and when to distribute the goods we
have, as well as what the other owes us and how and when to collect. One should own up
to the gifts that one has given; or, one must respond to the gift one has received. This
responsibility is what makes the counter-gift necessary. It is necessary to answer for the
4
This dynamic recalls Derridas and Foucaults debate over articulating the experience of the mad
discussed in part 1.
144
gift, the given, and the call to giving. It is necessary to answer to it and answer for it.
One must be responsible for what one gives and what one receives (GT, 62-63). The
gift must impose no responsibility upon the giver (since giving means to ignoring the
Derridas analysis of the sociological and economic nature of the gift shows us that the
true gift, i.e., the gift that breaks the rational, economic cycle of credit and debt, can
Understanding why it does so requires examining the second basic condition of the gift
that Horner identifies: the gift must be recognizable as such. Derrida shows that meeting
This is because as soon as a gift is recognized, it imposes an economic relation. The very
intentional object, it is recognized as a gift, and the economy returns. This realization
ratchets up the gifts paradoxical nature: to give a pure gift, the giver can never be aware
that she has given a gift. Even if she gives the gift anonymously, she knows of it and
therefore gains a sense of self-satisfaction. She cannot have even the intention to give:
145
The very awareness that she means to give is enough to produce a positive sense of
herself. She has then purchased that feeling with the gift.
At the same time, the receiver can never be aware that he has received a gift.
Knowledge of the givers identity is irrelevant: he might receive an anonymous gift, yet
the sense of obligation to repay the gift remains. I am an organ donor, and one of the
reasons is because when I was seven years old, I received a cornea transplant. I do not
know the identity of the child whose cornea I received. Even if I did, the child was killed
in a hunting accident, so there is no way I can repay him or her directly. What I can do,
though, is donate my own organs and, in doing so, pay back the gift.
so because the objects we encounter appear within our horizon of experience, and our
and it gives itself to my intuition by appearing in a variety of ways. I can look at it from
different angles, viewing it from the front or the back. I can see it opened or closed. I
can see it in different contexts. While I can never perceive it from more than one angle at
a time, it still gives itself to me as a unity because my consciousness unifies all these
horizon where its profile stands out and is finally filled in.5 For simple things like
computers, their givenness is not an issue. We see them from various perspectives, but
their identity is relatively stable. The gift, though, is not so stable, and this instability is
5
Jeffrey L. Kosky, The Disqualification of Intentionality: The Gift in Derrida, Levinas, and Michel
Henry, Philosophy Today (Supplement 1997): 188.
146
the source of the phenomenological dilemma it presents: as soon as the gift appears to
alters its being so that what I perceive is no longer the gift. To understand this more
clearly, take the example of counterfeit money, which has a phenomenological structure
analogous to the gifts. A counterfeit $20 bill is what it is, a simulacrum of a genuine $20
givenness of intentional objects but on the manner in which that givenness is secured.6
The gift, like the counterfeit bill, presents us with a phenomenon whose givenness
intentional object since the minute it enters our consciousness, it ceases to be the
phenomenon that was given. This can be expressed as a basic hypothetical syllogism:
consciousness of the gift instills consciousness of debt, and any consciousness of debt
initiates an economy; therefore, any consciousness of the gift (whether on the part of the
object, the gift is annulled; what we are conscious of is a commodity, i.e., something with
exchange value. Much like the alter ego for Husserl in the Cartesian Meditations, the
6
Maurice Natanson, Edmund Husserl: Philosopher of Infinite Tasks (Evanston: Northwestern University,
1973) 98.
147
because it cannot enter the horizon of consciousness and therefore must remain
inaccessible.
The absence of the gift upon our experiential horizon makes the gift
immediate experience with the experience that has just passed and the one that is about to
of the flow of experiences I have with it. If I pick it up and turn it over, my flow of
experiences includes the view of it right side up, rotating in space, and upside down. My
consciousness links these perspectives and these experiences into a unified experience by
retaining the just-passed senses of it and anticipating those to come. What I experience
and what I know are determined or conditioned by this experiential flow. For Derrida,
this means that presence, existence, determination regulate the economy of knowing,
experiencing, and living (GT, 29). Consciousness replicates an economic circle: the
subjectivation, of the constitutive retention of the subject that identifies with itself. The
becoming-subject then reckons with itself, it enters into the realm of the calculable as
subject (GT, 24). What I know is caught up within this economy of calculation
therefore have phenomenality. The gift, though, cannot be foreseeable because it is not
148
prepared a place for it and can welcome it. Forgotten and so not to be
found in the past, surprising and so coming from an unanticipated future,
the gift thus appears without horizon. It does not arise within the
conscious flux of appearances just past and those yet to come.7
The gift, if there ever could be one, would have to exist prior to any form of subjectivity
since its relation to the subject nullifies its existence as a gift (GT, 24). This, again, is
never be given to consciousness. But what about unconscious gifts? Could a gift be
given (or received) and repressed simultaneously so that it was never known to us? What
particular gift, but I remain aware of it, if only at a very deep level that does not admit of
easy access. The awareness is still there, and repressed awareness of the gift undermines
the gift because it could potentially be uncovered since anything repressed remains buried
erases all trace of itself. This is a structural forgetting, a forgetting so radical that even
what was never present to the ego is forgotten (GT, 17). What would such a forgetting
look like? An example can be found in Heideggers notion of the es gibt, the process by
which time and being become manifest. Being and time present a curious form of
existence: they both exist, but neither is ever present as a thing. Being is not present as
being; time is not temporal.8 In On Time and Being, Heidegger notes that we say of
beings: they are. With regard to the matter Being and with regard to the matter time,
7
Kosky, ibid., 190.
8
Martin Heidegger, On Time and Being, trans. Joan Stambaugh (New York: Harper & Row, 1972) 4.
149
we remain cautious. We do not say: Being is, time is, but rather: there is Being and there
is time.9 The idiomatic expressions in German for there is Being and there is time
are es gibt Sein and es gibt Zeit. Playing with this idiom, Heidegger reads es gibt
literally as It gives: It gives Being and It gives time. For Heidegger, the task of
thinking is to think what this It and this giving are. The challenge for such thinking is
that the It that gives is not a thing or an entity; it is not something we can know or
identifyno more than we can know or identify the it referred to in the expression it
is raining. The es gibt is never known, and it is never known because there is nothing to
know: the es gibt is a subjectless and anonymous process in which time and Being are
given. This giving is a structural giving: there is no giver. It is the originary act of
giving.
[B]efore everything, before every determinable being, there is, there was,
there will have been the irruptive event of the gift. An event that no more
has any relation with what is currently designated under this word. Thus
giving can no longer be thought starting from Being. In Zeit und Sein,
the gift of the es gibt gives itself to be thought before the Sein in the es
gibt Sein and displaces all that is determined under the name Ereignis.10
This giving precedes Being and time. It is the condition for their possibility. Things
come into presence for a time and then pass out of presence, but the presencing itself, the
granting of beings and the giving of Being is never present to consciousness and therefore
The essential thing to grasp is this: just as time is not, so the event is
not. The event does not, and cannot, happen. The event is not governed
by an economythat is, by laws of ownership, distribution, mastery and
slavery, sharing, and participationbut is an-economic. It is that which
9
Ibid., 4-5.
10
Jacques Derrida, Glas, trans. John P. Leavey, Jr. and Richard Rand (Lincoln: University of Nebraska
Press, 1990) 242.
150
makes possible giving, taking, receiving, withdrawing, holding back,
appropriating and expropriating11
in Being. The es gibt withdraws so that particular beings might manifest themselves; at
the same time, their appearance conceals this withdrawal. This giving and withdrawal
occurs prior to our consciousness or our awareness, and our total inability to recover the
by slipping the mind of someones psyche, but by a structural withdrawal from the
phenomenal field, withdrawing in and through giving (PTJD, 164). Therefore, it does
Being is without ever being something; it is not present as a being (das Seiende).
Similarly, the gift is without ever being present as presents (la cadeau). The comparison
between the gift and the Heideggerian es gibt breaks down, though. While the es gibt
does not earn our gratitude for what it gives (To what would we be grateful?), Heidegger
reinstates the circle of economy when he claims the es gibt gives things their essence and
11
Keith Ansell-Pearson, The An-Economy of Times Giving: Contributions to the Event of Heidegger,
Journal of the British Society for Phenomenology vol. 26.3 (October 1995): 273.
12
Just as there is no such thing then as a Being, there is also no such thing as an essence of the es gibt in
the es gibt Sein, that is, of Beings giving and gift. [] There is no such thing as a gift of Being from which
there might be apprehended and opposed to it something like a determined gift. Jacques Derrida, Spurs:
Nietzsches Styles, trans. Barbara Harlow (Chicago: University of Chicago, 1978) 121.
151
truth. This implies that a logic of propriety is already at work in the giving of the es gibt.
This anonymous and subjectless giving turns out to be a process of engendering that
demands a return. And because of this logic, Heidegger reinstates an element of gratitude
through his notion that denken ist danken. He enjoins meditative thinking upon us: we
need to reestablish a genuine attentiveness to Being and the es gibt, an attentiveness lost
with the Greeks. At the same time, Heidegger tells us that we are indebted to the Greeks
since they have shown us the nature of Being and the way in which Being presences
itself. Not only does this sense of propriety and indebtedness to the Greeks exclude what
is not Greek, but it also puts Heidegger back into the transcendental tradition: by locating
the gift of Being in the originary Es, Heidegger gives us another concept that will
regulate the economy of thought and close off any effects of the gift. Derrida is looking
for something with this kind of structural forgetting, but the implications of Heideggers
fervor for a return to denken and its accompanying exclusionary rhetoric understandably
make Derrida nervous and cause him to distance himself from Heidegger (GT, 162). A
Derrida locates another instance of structural givingone that avoids the Heideggerian
logic of property and proprietyin texts. The standard logocentric approach that we
examined earlier in chapter two understands texts in terms of the logic of exchange: the
author gives us the text and, in return, we give the author a reading true to his intentions.
On this model, an accurate or correct reading is one that completes the circle. But this
approach misunderstands the nature of texts and ascribes too much power to the author.
No one gives a text. Obviously the text must come from somewheresomeone has to
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produce itbut the author cannot give it as a gift to his readers because it is not his to
give. He has no authority over the text. Take Derridas example of Baudelaire:
Baudelaire dedicates his story Counterfeit Money to his friend, Houssaye. Regardless
of Baudelaires desire to give the story to his friend, the text itself disrupts the possibility
of exchange.
[F]rom the moment [Baudelaire] let [the story] constitute itself in a system
of traces, he destined it, gave it, not only to another or in general to others
than his dear friend Arsne Houssaye, but delivered itand that was
giving itabove and beyond any determined addressee . [] Whatever
return it could have made toward Baudelaire or whatever return he might
have counted on, the structure of the trace and legacy of this textas of
anything that can be in generalsurpasses the phantasm of return and
marks the death of the signatory or the non-return of the legacy, the non-
benefit, therefore a certain condition of the giftin the writing itself (GT,
100).
The text will not be constrained by the simple dyadic structure of exchange. This is
because a written text is structurally available to countless readers and these readers are
outside authorial control: texts operate indifferently to the authors intentions, which
means they can read against or differently from such intentions. The moment a text
appears, it cannot be confined. There is no inherent law or order to it; a text is always
capable of unforeseeable effects. It is thus the text that gives insofar as it opens itself to
How the author wants us to read the story no longer matters: the author is
structurally dead, and the text lives on without her. But why the text lives on and why the
authors intentions cease to matter get at something more fundamental about the nature of
texts. As we saw in chapter two, with deconstruction, authorial intentions are no longer a
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transcendental signified we must uncover to get at the truth of a text. The author has no
more special ties or privileged insight to the story than the reader, and just like the reader,
she is consigned to the phenomenal aspects of the story. Derrida points to the key
friend gives a beggar a two-franc piece and then tells the narrator that the coin was
counterfeit. Why does the friend admit this? We do not know. The story does not tell
us. Maybe it is boastful, puerile cynicism. Maybe he wants to avoid the sense of
superiority that would come from giving real money to the beggar. Maybe the friend is
simply lying to conceal his generosity. We simply do not know what really transpires
between the friend and the beggar, and the important point for Derrida is that we can
never know. The textlike all textsstructurally precludes any access to the thing
itself. What the friend was thinking and what he really did are completely inaccessible to
us. And they are not inaccessible just to us, the readers; they are inaccessible even to
Baudelaire (unless he decides to write a sequel or another version retelling the story from
Baudelaire does not know, cannot know, and does not have to know,
anymore than we do, what can be going through the mind of the friend,
and whether the latter finally wanted to give true or counterfeit money, or
even wanted to give anything at all (GT, 152).
No one can know because there is nothing to know. No amount of speculation will get us
further beneath the surface of the story because there is no interiority to the text: its
infinitely private because public through and through (GT, 170). A text creates the
illusion of depth, like perspective in drawing, but any interiority is a projection on the
part of the reader. It is the reader who refuses to stop at the surface, who reads qualities
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and features into the story, and who adds dimensions to the characters they do not
otherwise possess. Like any currency, a text has value because we give it value. It
The truth of literature is its non-truth, the fact that there is no truth to be revealed.
As pure superficiality, literature blocks access to the thing itself. Like the ghost in
Hamlet, it has a spectral existence; it both is and is not at the same time. We encounter it,
but its manifestation is never quite real and always eludes our grasp. And like counterfeit
disbelief, that is, only when we extend credit to the narrator and accept what we are told.
In Baudelaires story, we believe, if only for a moment, that the narrator is telling a true
story about false money. Of course, the difference between fiction and counterfeit money
is our realization that the narrator is fictional and that we have bracketed our disbelief:
The pure superficiality of the text is the source of the texts secret, the secret that
there is no deep secret; there is only a structural void that drives us to find those things
that appear to keep themselves hidden. It calls attention to our ignorance, but lets us
believe there must be an answer if only we dig deeper. If we read closely enough, we tell
ourselves, perhaps we can figure out what the narrators friend was thinking. Everything
is predicated upon our reliance upon better or worse interpretive structures. Belief is the
very structure of literature: we give credence to what we read because we can know
nothing else about what we are reading. Our structural inability to learn what the text is
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about in an extratextual way is what drives our reading. But this structural inaccessibility
is not limited to literature: the entire world is like this. We are always operating within
interpretive structures that we believe will get us to the deeper meaning hidden beneath
the surface. If we can only find the right interpretive framework, we will uncover the
secret buried there. We will learn the truth about the way the world is. But the secret is
what remains structurally inaccessible. The secret of the text, that deep interiority, cannot
be made phenomenal. Even when it is revealed as a secret, i.e., even once we have read
Derrida and understand the secrets role in literature, it remains a secret. One can
always speak about it, that is not enough to disrupt it.13 It cannot be revealed because it
does not turn on notions of concealment. It remains inviolable even when one thinks
one has revealed it.14 It cannot be reduced to the binary oppositions surrounding secrets,
The secret, then, precludes the stability necessary for any normalized reading. It
makes the text something beyond knowledge and beyond the sphere of the same,
something always other. In Baudelaires story, the narrator condemns his friend based on
what he thought he saw in his friends eyes, that by giving the beggar the counterfeit coin
he could do a good deed on the cheap. But as with a text, the other is always
inaccessible: her motives are never entirely known to us. We cannot pass judgment on
the other because we cannot know her secret. Between the narrator and his friend an
interruption opens, in truth it recalls to its opening the space of an absolute heterogeneity
13
Jacques Derrida, Passions: An Oblique Offering, trans. David Wood, in On the Name, ed. Thomas
Dutoit (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1993) 26.
14
Ibid.
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and an infinite secret between the two, between all the twos of the world (GT, 156).
Understanding this, recognizing the secret becomes a way of letting the other be. We
cannot pass a moral judgment, we cannot normalize the other, without appealing to the
How does this relate to the gift? The text presents a structural giving akin to the
es gibt, but without any notion that the text comes into its essencethere is no essence,
only surface. This structural giving turns on the secret and lack of any interiority; and
because there is no interiority, we can never fully possess the text. And because the text
is beyond the intentions of the author, there is no one to whom we feel indebted and no
one who feels generous. Rather, any reading of the text is our own, so there is nothing
As Derrida shows, a careful analysis of the gift reveals its lack of any stable unity of
impossible. Where does this leave us? Derrida tells us that we must begin with the
impossible, i.e., the impossible impassions us. It is a sense of hope or desire that shocks
us into action and disrupts the horizon of expectation. We cannot know the truth of a
text, but this does not mean we should abandon texts. We cannot know the gift, but this
does not mean we cannot or should not give gifts. The implications are quite the opposite
for Derrida: giving is an act we must performeven though we cannot truly know what
we are doing.
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give, know what you intend to give, know how the gift annuls itself,
commit yourself even if commitment is the destruction of the gift by the
gift, give economy its chance (GT, 30).
A pure gift cannot exist, but this does not mean gifts cannot still be given. Giving
requires knowing what annuls giving, and giving anyway. We are to give even while
realizing that our gifts only amount to economic acts. But this is more than absorption of
gifts by an economy. Economies only function when gifts are given. Economic
relationships are purely contractual, and contracts are zero-sum gamesone does only
what one is bound to do; one follows the letter of the law. Within any pure quid pro quo
relationship, progress is never made. It is the gifts that are giventhe going beyond
ones duty and giving more than is expected or required or owed, for examplethat
produce the surplus and allow the economy to function smoothly and, more importantly,
expand. Without these seemingly minor gifts, there is no growth since the system always
returns to zero. These gifts, of course, cannot last: giving never gets us outside of the
circle; we cannot free ourselves from economies. A gift functions only as a moment of
transgression. It exceeds the circle of the economy, but only momentarily. The instant
the gift breaks open the circle of the economy, the economy expands to reclaim it.
[T]he overrunning of the circle by the gift, if there is any, does not lead to
a simple, ineffable exteriority that would be transcendent and without
relation. It is this exteriority that sets the circle going, it is this exteriority
that puts the economy in motion. It is this exteriority that engages in the
circle and makes it turn (GT, 30).
The economy adapts to the surplus produced by the employees so that what were once
gifts become part of the logic of the system, and new forms of giving arise to take their
place. Each time gifts are given, the economy gets a little larger, the circle gets a little
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Giving even when we know that it is impossible to break free of the economy is
one half of the double gesture of the gift. The second half requires giving this economy
its chance. This injunction plays with two different readings. We must tolerate
economies since, after all, they cannot be tossed out, nor should they. They are
necessary, but it is equally necessary to interrupt them in order to let something new
happen: Nothing can happen without the family and without economy, to be sure, but
neither can anything happen in the family: in the family, that is, in the sealed enclosure,
the least chrematistic vertigo (GT, 158). We find in this passage the second reading of
world without gifts, a world in which people do only what duty bounds them to do. Such
appear within the systematic logic. One mustil fautopt for the gift, for generosity,
for noble expenditure, for a practice and a morality of the gift (GT, 62). Giving
means being open, resisting the normalization of the larger economy that seeks to reduce
The injunctive donne calls upon us to give others a break, to open up the
impossible for the other, not to close the other down within the horizon of
possibility and normalization, not to remake others in the image of the
Same (us), to let invention of the other happen, to let events happen
(PTJD, 185).
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Giving demands a letting-be of the other. In light of what weve seen in the two previous
Caputo examines the question of the gift in light of tradition, which is very useful.
The tradition gives and we are indebted to it. He points out that Derrida is fine with this:
we cannot avoid traditions or get outside of them; there is no exteriority to which we can
relocate (PTJD, 181). For Derrida, healthy traditions are those that keep themselves open
and that avoid becoming too ossified. Traditions happen when quasi-systems of
tracesnot just books, of course, but institutions, laws, works of art, beliefs, practices,
problematic when they close off new possibilities. Traditions that are too constraining
and no longer allow for interruptions continue to give, but what they give are poisoned
gifts. They then seek to keep us indebted to the subjects venerated by the tradition. That
is why the highest gratitude would always involve in-gratitude about such monumental
debts, which opens up the possibility of letting a new gift loose (PTJD, 182).
The task for us is to give, which means keeping the normalizing systems of
economy open to new possibilities, which means opening up ourselves and our traditions
to the unknown. Acting within a tradition becomes a matter of releasing aleatory chains,
others, over which the initiators neither can nor want to maintain control (PTJD, 183).
The concept of the gift brings us back to the avenir, the to-come: giving is the ever-
renewed effort to keep our traditions and our horizons of expectation open to something
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Derridas treatment of the gift gives us a framework with which to approach
look at Derridas second examination of the gift, The Gift of Death. It is there that we see
an evolution of his understanding of the gift, one that presents us with a general economy
of giving.
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Chapter 7: Everyday Madness: The Gift in The Gift of Death
Given Time showed us the conceptual instability of the gift and made the case that
any pure gift must be a structural giving, the product of a quasi-transcendental structure
that gives without return. It is giving qua disseminative act, giving the effects of which
cannot return to the giver. In Derridas second examination of the gift, The Gift of Death,
the gift is ethical rather than structural. The structural paradoxes elucidated in Given
Timethat it can only be given without its being known to the giver or the receiver and
that it cannot manifest itself as a giftstill obtain. However, The Gift of Death shows us
that gifts are not limited to a structural generosity producing meanings and effects
through the play of differences. Here, Derrida presents the gift as the sacrifice of that
which is irreplaceable; and because what is given is irreplaceable, this is a gift that
economic return.
The title of the book, The Gift of Death plays with the French idiom Donner la
mort, which means causing the death of someone or something. In the background is
Heideggers analysis of death in Being and Time: death is the moment of irreplaceability;
no one can die in place of another. I can give my whole life for another, I can offer my
death to the other, but in doing this I will only be replacing or saving something partial in
sacrifice).1 My death is my death: I can die in place of the other, but my sacrifice only
postpones the others death. It does not remove it. The difficulty with giving death is
that my death is what is without giving or taking. I cannot give it away, nor can someone
1
Jacques Derrida, The Gift of Death, trans. D. Wills (Chicago: University of Chicago, 1992) 43. Hereafter
abbreviated in the text as GD.
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take it from me. Even more problematic is the fact that death typically belongs to an
economy; there is some kind of return. A gift or return is always found in death. Perhaps
it is part of the natural cycle of things, or it may mark a sacrifice in which the loss of life
leads to something greater. Take, for instance, two great deaths of the Westthe death
of Socrates and the death of Jesus. Socrates execution produced the Western episteme;
the death of Jesus is the birth of Christianity. In both cases, the death of an individual
Derrida turns this economic understanding of death on its head by asking, Under
what conditions might giving death be a gift without return? When is giving death an act
of pure giving, as opposed to an economic act in which death is simply the cost of
achieving another purpose? Derrida is now looking at an ethics or politics of the gift and
the agency of the giver. While the gift is the basis of an ethics in both books (since Given
is more developed here where the gift appears not just as a sacrifice but as the sacrifice of
sacrifice of Isaac as an act of absolute and unconditional giving. Since nothing could
possibly replace his son, the sacrifice of Isaac is made without any hope of return and is
thus a gift.
In this chapter, I want to explore how Derridas conception of the gift evolves
from Given Time. I will first lay out the Kiekegaardian notion of Abrahams absolute
relation to the absolute that he develops in Fear and Trembling. I will then take up
Derridas reading of Kierkegaard, which approaches the text through Levinas and argues
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that the akedah of Abraham is the paradigm of absolute and unconditional giving. On
this reading, the knight of faith becomes representative of everyone, not just the rare
understanding of the gift, claiming that it represents an important shift in his thinking on
this theme.
In Fear and Trembling, Kierkegaard criticizes what he sees as the decline of Christian
faith into easy spiritual reassurance. Believers no longer recognize the demands genuine
faith imposes; their relationship with God is comforting when it should be disconcerting
if not downright terrifying. This is the true pathos of Abrahams sacrifice of Isaac: Gods
command is beyond all human reason and trumps any sense of ethics or justice, yet
exemplifies the sacrifice of ethics: Abraham has a fatherly obligation to protect his son,
but he also has an obligation to obey God. Caught between his responsibility to Isaac and
his obedience to Yahweh, he cannot fulfill both. But this aporia of responsibility goes
further than simply failing to honor his paternal duties. As the story of Abraham
understand the difference Kierkegaard posits between the ethical and the religious. The
ethical is what we find in the concrete ethical community or the universal law. It is the
universal norm that governs our relationships with others and that applies to everyone
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and every situation. Take for example Kants categorical imperative: one should always
act in such a way that one would be willing for everyone else to act similarly. With this
universal rule, lying is unethical, even when telling the truth may harm someone you care
about, since it means accepting the idea that it is permissible for everyone to lie, which
would lead to social collapse. But the ethical realm is not limited to objective moral
laws. It also means conforming to social institutions and social values. Ethics demands
that we show the necessary courage to face the reality of our situation and act.
Agamemnons fleet is ready to sail for Troy, but the gods have withheld the wind and
demand the sacrifice of his daughter Iphigenia. Like Abraham, this means sacrificing
both his happiness and violating a core belief that he should protect his child. However,
he makes the sacrifice, and he is regarded as a hero for it. His competing ethical duties
make Agamemnons situation a tragedy: either choice would have him honoring one of
his ethical obligations and sacrificing another; so he set aside his personal duty for the
[t]he tragic hero is still within the ethical. He allows an expression of the
ethical to have its telos in a higher expression of the ethical; he scales
down the ethical relation between father and son or daughter and father to
a feeling that has its dialectic in its relation to the idea of moral conduct.2
responsibility to Iphegenia to his public ethical duty to the Achaeans. Ethics demands
that we, like Agamemnon, honor our universal duty. Sometimes this duty requires
personal sacrifice, but such a sacrifice remains within the sphere of human existence and
2
Soren Kierkegaard, Fear and Trembling, ed. and trans. Howard and Edna Hong (Princeton: Princeton
University, 1983) 59.
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It is the universality of Agamemnons duty that makes him a tragic hero.
Everyone can identify with his conflicting obligations. But what of Abraham? Cannot
everyone understand his duty as a father to Isaac, even those who are not fathers
themselves? The difficulty with Abraham, and what differentiates him from
Agamemnon, is the absence of any higher ethical duty to which he can resign his paternal
responsibilities. He acts without any universal ethical justification and therefore cannot
be so easily reduced to the tropes of tragedy. Whereas Agamemnon was operating in the
public capacity of king serving his people, Abrahams acts are motivated by a purely
private relationship with God: he sacrifices Isaac only because God tells him to. There is
no clear purpose. His private relationship with God precludes universally accepted
action. He cannot meet the demands of universal ethics that say he must protect his son.
His duty is absolute, and absolute duty entails renouncing the law and ethics and
everything universal.
Abraham removes himself from the realm of human sympathy. We cannot identify with
him because his is a singular focus on God. He stands in absolute relation to the
absolute. Understanding the nature of this relationship more fully, it is helpful to employ
the distinction James Edwards makes between the absolute relation to the absolute and a
within public relationships that have prescribed roles and practices. In public
relationships, the constitutive rights and duties are universal, or at least very general:
the expectations defining excellent performance attach (ceteris paribus) no matter which
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particular individual is holding down that role.3 My role as a teacher carries certain
expectations about how I should act in the classroom. While I am free to develop my
particular style of teaching and interacting with students, within that role I am not entirely
free: the role imposes rules and expectations that govern my behavior. Some of these are
codified in law and institutional policies (such as having a sexual relationship with a
student or disclosing confidential student information); others are less explicit and less
variations, this role demands a responsibility that accords with these expectations. The
universality of a public role stems from its discursive nature: the role and its norms can
contrasts responsibility in general, which adheres to the universal norms and applies to
ethical responsibility:
absolute relation to the absolute, Abraham can no longer rely on ordinary conceptions of
responsibility; the public role of fatherhood and the norms that come with it no longer
apply.
irresponsible in the eyes of the ethical. It is a responsibility others cannot understand and
3
James C. Edwards, The Plain Sense of Things: The Fate of Religion in an Age of Normal Nihilism
(University Park: Pennsylvania State University, 1997) 83.
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cannot assimilate into existing ethical thought. Absolute responsibility is not a
61). To those watching from outside the absolute relation to the absolute, Abrahams
actions appear inexplicable and unjustifiable. And they are. The ethical sphere is the
sphere of language and reason: Agamemnon can explain himself to the satisfaction of
everyone. Clytemnestra may hate him for what he did, but she understands why he acted.
No such recourse is available to Abraham. He might certainly tell Sarah and Eliezer and
Isaac that God has commanded him to do this, but if he does so, if he speaks, his situation
ceases to be an absolute relation to the absolute. His private relationship with God would
become public. The dilemma would remainsacrifice his son or disobey Godbut it
would be reduced to a spiritual trial everyone can sympathize with. As it is, Abraham is
entirely alone. Because this relationship is singular, it is beyond the reach of language,
which is also universal; hence Abrahams inability to express his ordeal. This is why
Kierkegaard regards ethics as a temptation for Abraham: he could get out of sacrificing
Isaac by appealing to his paternal duty. The ethical thus (paradoxically) becomes a
temptation since it offers him a reason and a way to relinquish Yahwehs seemingly
irrational demand. As a rule, what tempts a person is something that will hold him back
from doing his duty, but here the temptation is the ethical itself, which would hold him
back from doing Gods will.4 This makes ethics a form of irresponsibilization: in
acting responsibly (in the ordinary sense) and remaining within a universal relation to the
absolute relation to the absolute, Abraham accepts the singular relationship with God and
4
Kierkegaard, Fear and Trembling, 60.
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renounces everything universal, transgressing the ethical and suspending it because of a
higher telos. His singular existence contrasts with the universal; existing beyond ethics,
he exists only through his faith.5 For Kierkegaard, such an existence is beyond most of
us. The anxiety of leaving the sphere of ethics and the requisite isolation demands too
For Derrida, pace Kierkegaard, the knight of faith is not such a rarity. On
Derridas reading, the knight of faiths position is the position we all find ourselves in.
Derridas point is not to tear down Abraham, however. His deconstruction of Fear and
Trembling shows that it is the programmatic and programmable ethical systems that are
in fact the exceptions.6 The artificiality of ethical theory recalls the artificiality of classic
economic theory mentioned in the last chapter: both rely on idealized approaches and
theoretical constructs that only rarely apply to real-world situations. When faced with
specific ethical dilemmas that arise in our everyday relationships, we do not gauge our
actions according to the categorical imperative. Nor do we weigh decisions based upon
how well they maximize utility. Instead, my relationship to the other is the same singular
5
Ibid., 61-62.
6
Ethics as promoted and as practiced (with monotonous regularity in the context of philosophy) is read
by Derrida as serving little purpose other than to appease what he rather derisively calls good conscience.
It is inseparable, therefore, from a morality that is inspired by, and remains inseparable from a religious
tradition. Although ethics of this type is held to be necessary and intrinsic to philosophy, for Derrida, it
becomes at a certain point a failure to think philosophically, a failure to take thinking to its limits.
Responsibility is from that perspective opposed to ethics; it is scandalous, untenable, never offering the
comfort of conscience. David Wills, Matchbook: Essays in Deconstruction (Stanford: Stanford University,
2005) 116.
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relationship to the absolute that we find in Abrahams relationship to God. Like
Abraham, I am faced with inherent conflicting obligations: Abraham cannot honor his
responsibility to Yahweh and still fulfill his duty as a father to Isaac; nor can we do our
duty to the absolute other standing before us and, at the same time, honor our duties to all
of the other absolutely singular others. And like Abraham, my absolute duty binds me to
an absolutely singular other and requires that I act irresponsibly and unethically in the
approach, to say the least: Levinas and Kierkegaard have, at least at first glance, an
antagonistic understanding of Abraham. For Levinas, the story of Abraham and Isaac is
purely anthropological; it is the story of the end of human sacrifice. At the last moment,
God calls off the sacrifice, and this for Levinas marks Abrahams return to the ethical.
But more important is their differences concerning the nature of ethics. Levinas takes
ethics to be our unconditional obligation to the other, and this obligation cannot bind us
in a universal way. Kierkegaard, as we have already seen, regards ethics as the universal
that cannot unconditionally bind us. Derrida thinks the antagonism between Kierkegaard
and Levinas gives way: on his reading of Fear and Trembling, Kierkegaards religious
sphere comprises the same structural obligation to the other that we find in Levinass
ethics. In both, the subject ceases to be commensurable with the universal (whether this
takes the form of ethical concepts for Kierkegaard or phenomenological concepts and
ontological categories for Levinas) because the subject succumbs to the demands of the
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wholly other. If Kierkegaard shows Levinas that the ethical has the structure of a
religious bond with the other, Levinas shows Kierkegaard that the religious has ethical
implications.
For Derridas purposes, this collapse allows him to conflate the infinity of God
with the infinity of the other; Abrahams relationship to God is analogous to the
Levinasian subjects relationship to the other. God in the story of Abraham is the
Levinasian wholly other, the singular other who remains wholly unknowable and wholly
inaccessible. Just as Abraham cannot know Gods full intentions, I can never fully grasp
the other. I can never fully know what the other is thinking or feeling. This
understanding of the inaccessible other stems from Husserls 5th Cartesian Meditation in
which he shows that the other is never fully present to us: we only know the other
through apperception. I can only make assumptions about the other through analogical
matter how well I know my wife, no matter how successful I may be at anticipating her
thoughts or responses to a given situation, they are all mediated through words or actions
that signify her as a conscious being. Levinas pushes this further by arguing that the
other is not just phenomenologically inaccessible to me, not just beyond my own
conscious awareness, but that in my proximity, the other withdraws and therefore is not
between the other and myself: there is no shared language, no shared horizon of
experience, no shared background with the wholly other. Consequently the other does
not give reasons: If the other were to share his reasons with us by explaining them to us,
if he were to speak to us all the time without any secrets, he wouldnt be the other, we
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would share a type of homogeneity (GD, 57). Instead, we find a radical heterogeneity
We see this heterogeneity in the story of Abraham. There, God exemplifies the
phrase tout autre est tout autre, God is every (bit) other (GD, 87). As the wholly
other, God remains absolutely transcendent, and Abraham finds himself in a relationship
without relation to God (GD, 72-73). Abraham knows nothing about God or about why
he demands the sacrifice of Isaac. After promising Abraham that he would father
generations, God is now commanding him to kill his only son. He has, it would seem,
reneged on the promise, and he never explains why. Only God knows what is going on,
God doesnt give his reasons, he acts as he intends, he doesnt have to give
his reasons or share anything with us: neither his motivations, if he has
any, nor his deliberations, nor his decisions. Otherwise he wouldnt be
God, we wouldnt be dealing with the Other as God or with God as the
wholly other [tout autre] (GD, 57).
When called by God, Abraham does not ask God why. He does not argue with God the
way he did when God told him of his plans to destroy Sodom and Gomorrah. Abraham
only responds with Here I am, which is the only response one can give within the
religious sphere (GD, 71). He only understands Gods command. He obeys, but he does
not understand why God wants this and therefore cannot explain himselfeven to
himself. The knight of faith must not hesitate. He accepts his responsibility by heading
off towards the absolute request of the other, beyond knowledge. He decides, but his
absolute decision is neither guided nor controlled by knowledge. (GD, 77). The
command of the other is a secret that singles us out. It is incommunicable and cannot be
shared with others. Thus God isolates Abraham through two layers of secrecy: his
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inability to tell Isaac or Sarah what he is doing and his own ignorance of what he is
doing. The secret command that drives Abraham is similarly structural for us: the secret
of the other that commands us is incommunicable; we cannot share it with other others.
Because of the secret, his responsibility is absolutely to God, who is not seen and
who speaks only in secret.7 For Kierkegaard, Abrahams secret is not an absolute secret
since God knows what is going on. Kierkegaard understands the secret to be a deep and
determinate truth stored in the relationship between the self and God. For Derrida, the
secret is absolute: it is the secret that there is no secret. We have already seen this
conception of the secret in Given Time where the secret of literature is the absence of any
secret, the structural inaccessibility that keeps our experience of a text at the surface. We
can never know the deep interiority of a text or a character because there is no interiority.
The text is a pure surface that hints at something deeper we can never know because there
is no interiority. In The Gift of Death, instead of closing off any interiority, the secret
opens up the space of interiority. This secret arises from the asymmetrical relationship
that exists between the subject and the other: God knows everything about Abraham
while Abraham knows nothing about him. This relationship recalls the analysis from
chapter three of the ghost in Hamlet, which shows the lack of any face-to-face exchange
7
[T]o be absolutely responsible implies that you alone are responsible, that you have a unique relationship
to your obligation which cannot be accounted for, justified, or explained; your responsibility, if it is truly
yours, is unique and cannot be understood in terms of any universal laws, principles, or language. Absolute
responsibility requires secrecy because the secret obligation defies words; it cannot be spoken even if one
were to try. Kelly Oliver, Fatherhood and the Promise of Ethics, Diacritics 27.1 (Spring 1997): 54.
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within the lure of reflexivity, in the disavowal of a secret that is always for
me alone, that is to say for the other: for me who never sees anything in it,
and hence for the other alone to whom, through the dissymmetry, a secret
is revealed. For the other my secret will no longer be a secret (GD, 91).8
God is closer to Abraham than Abraham is to himself, which is why Abraham approaches
with fear and trembling. Gods secret reveals aspects of Abrahams subjectivity that are
inaccessible even to himself. It is the secret that God keeps from Abraham that rips
Abraham from the sphere of ethics and the sphere of community and leaves him in a
The phrase tout autre est tout autre Derrida uses to describe God as the wholly
other is open to another reading: The wholly other is every other. All others possess
the same inaccessibility as God. Each thing, each being, you, me, the other, each X,
each name, and each name of God can become the example of other substitutable Xs.
[] Any other is totally other.9 All others are equally wholly other.
This is a critical point in Derridas analysis of Fear and Trembling: here he expands
God, Abrahams relationship to God becomes something more than a single event: it
8
It is worth noting that this description not only recalls the ghost in Hamlet, it also recalls Foucaults
description of the Panopticon. God functions here as the ultimate normalizing force.
9
Jacques Derrida, Sauf le nom (Post-Scriptum), trans. John P. Leavey, Jr., in On the Name, 76. See also
GD, 87. Caputo calls this a radical heterology, a hetero-tautology, which takes Gods infinite alterity
and attributes it to every form of alterity: one or other persons but just as well places, animals, language
(PTJD, 209).
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represents our relationships to every other, not just God. The wholly otherwhether
is an experience that does not, that cannot, be phenomenological. This is because the
wholly other is characterized by an infinite alterity. In the story of Abraham, the alterity
of God also belongs to every other; and like Abraham, we can never know what this other
So God in the story of Abraham represents the wholly other who lays unconditional claim
to me. And like Abraham, I am, in my absolute singularity, bound to this wholly other.
I am responsible to the other as other, I answer to him and I answer for what I do before
him. But of course, what binds me thus in my singularity to the absolute singularity of
the other, immediately propels me into the space or risk of absolute sacrifice (GD, 68).
Here we come to the sacrifice of ethics: I find myself in this absolute relationship with
the other, but there is never a moment in which it is just the wholly other and me. There
is never only the dyadic relationship; a third, another other, is always also there. For
Abraham, of course, this is Isaac, and the irony and the paradox that Derrida recognizes is
that Isaacthe object of sacrificeis just as much a wholly other as God and therefore
ratchets up Abrahams dilemma: by doing his absolute duty to God, Abraham cannot
honor his equally absolute responsibility to Isaac. By doing his duty to God, he sacrifices
Isaac. Kierkegaard regards this absolute relation to the absolute as something rare, but
Derrida sees this as not unique to Abraham: this is the very nature of responsibility: I
cannot respond to the call, the request, the obligation, or even the love of another without
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sacrificing the other other, the other others (GD, 68). The other others are everyone else
standing outside my absolute relationship with the absolute. If every other is wholly
other, if God is merely a placeholder for anyone who might occupy that position, then
every other places equal demands on my responsibility. At the instant of every decision
and through the relation to every other (one) as every (bit) other, everyone else asks us at
every moment to behave like knights of faith (GD, 78-79). Ethical responsibility
presents us with an aporia: we cannot fulfill our responsibility to these other others when
we fulfill our obligations to the wholly other, so we sacrifice these other others.10
Isaac represents the ethical community to which I belong. He is the other other,
all of those others who remain connected to us within the realm of the law or reason or
calculation. For Levinas, the other other limits my obligation to the other standing before
me: I cannot simply give everything I have to this other; I have to hold something in
reserve for the other others whose demands are equally valid and equally worthy of my
attention. So it is that the other other, the third, disrupts my relation to the other by
obligations to determine who gets what. With absolute responsibility in the face of the
10
With the third, then, emerges the questionnot only a being put into question by the Other but, without
waiting, the necessity of taking up speech in order to ask questions about my responsibilities for the Other,
and for the others of the Other (Nass, 106).
11
Ibid., 104.
176
incomparable ones. There must then be a comparison among
incomparables and a synopsis, a togetherness and contemporaneousness,
there must be thematization, thought, history, and inscription.12
Isaac forces such a comparison between incomparables. And here we see a difference
between how Derrida and Levinas approach the issue of the other others. Levinas thinks
the relationship with the other others flows smoothly and without opposition from the
primary singular relationship. I cannot simply give everything to the other who is facing
me because there are all the other others to whom I am also responsible. They are what
obligations. Derrida, on the other hand, regards this calculation as a moment of conflict.
Meeting the demand of the other means neglecting the other others. Abrahams paternal
love for Isaac is what creates his spiritual crisis; it is what forces him to confront the
horror of his own willingness to sacrifice that love to this absolute duty. This relation to
the other stands in opposition to these relationships: my loyalties are divided. The
structural paradox for Abraham becomes a paradigm for Derrida: any ethical relationship
the wholly other and the demands of all the other others. To act is to be conflicted: my
proximity is always interrupted by the other others we do not know. Any ethical decision
responsibility to all the other others. The world is built on the sacrifice of the other
12
Levinas, Otherwise Than Being or Beyond Essence, 16.
13
Diane Moira Duncan makes the interesting point that Noah is more paradigmatic of the ethical
relationship than Abraham since Noah shut himself up in the ark and did not have to look his sacrificial
victims in the eyes. See Duncans The Pre-Text of Ethics: On Derrida and Levinas (New York: Peter
Lang, 2001) 149-150.
177
others. The only way I can act responsibly and respond to the other standing in front of
me is by sacrificing the other other. I cannot honor my responsibilities to all the others.
This is not some moral failing on my part, however. The structure of morality requires us
to give the death of other others to the absolute other. We are always sacrificing other
others for the sake of the other standing before us. Feeding my family means not feeding
other families. Feeding some of those other families means not feeding all of the other
other families. This is not simply a reality of limited resources; these are structural
sacrifices. For Derrida, we are continually making these sacrifices, though we do not
typically notice them: I am sacrificing and betraying at every moment all my other
obligations: my obligations to the other others whom I know or dont know every one
being sacrificed to every one else in this land of Moriah that is our habitat every second
of every day (GD, 69; my italics). And these sacrifices, these gifts, occur at every
murderer: he fully intended and was wholeheartedly committed to killing his son. But,
Derrida reminds us, Abrahams act is the most common event in the world, an act that is
event (GD, 85). From the moment I am in relation to the other, I sacrifice ethics and my
I offer a gift of death, I betray, I dont need to raise my knife over my son
on Mount Moriah for that. Day and night, at every instant, on all the
Mount Moriahs of this world, I am doing that, raising my knife over what
I love and must love, over those to whom I owe absolute fidelity,
incommensurably (GD, 68).
We are always already giving the gift of death in the form of the sacrifice of the other
other. Regardless of how we much we might want to avoid such sacrifices, no matter
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how much we try to pay attention to the hidden costs of honoring our duties, everything
is given over to the absolute duty to the other before me (GD, 70). The challengethe
Derridas analysis of the ethical relationship with the other reveals a relationship
built on continuous structural giving. This view of the giftthe gift as constant
sacrificemarks a substantial evolution in his thinking of the gift from Given Time. The
gift of death adheres to the criteria of the gift that he lays out in the earlier work: a giver
who is unaware that a gift has been given, a receiver unaware that a gift has been
received, and a gift that does not appear as such. But Derrida is no longer focusing on
particular acts of giving, such as the friends giving the counterfeit coin to the beggar.
Nor are the ethics of the gift based on our own willingness to give even as we know that
such gifts are impossible. Here, our giving is unavoidable, but the ethical aspect of such
giving is much deeper: his analysis takes an oddly (and unintentionally) Maussian turn
insofar as it reveals how giving creates a web of connections between us and everyone
else. Through the choices I make to honor my responsibilities, I give the gift of death;
but I do not know what I give, how I give it, when I give it, or to whom I give it. The
recipients are those other others I could have helped but did not, but they do not receive it
as a gift, they do not know from whom their sacrifice comes. They may sense that they
are forgotten, but forgotten by whom exactly? Rwandan refugees, for example, may
indict the international community for sitting on its hands, but what they recognize is
what they have not received, not what our own complacency has given them. And in this
giving what has been given? The gifts of death I make to the other, i.e., those sacrifices
of all the other others that my relationship to the other requires, lack the possibility of
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phenomenality. Most of the time, I am completely ignorant of the sacrifices: they are the
giving to one charity I have to forgo giving to another. I can understand that helping the
homeless in Philadelphia means I cannot help the homeless in New York or Baltimore.
But even if I am aware of my sacrifice of some of the other others, I cannot possibly
catalogue all of the other sacrifices I make on a daily basis because I can never know
what those sacrifices are. Who else does my Western bourgeois lifestyle sacrifice?
Certainly, I can read Derrida and know in the abstract that such gifts are given or
received, but they never rise to the phenomenal level because the receiver and the gift and
On one level, the continuous giving of the gift of death pre-empts economic
sacrifice of economy. Sacrificing his son is the sacrifice of the oikonomia, namely of
the law of the home (oikos), of the hearth, of what is ones own or proper, of the private,
of the love and affection of ones kin (GD, 95).14 The books do not and cannot balance,
and the closed circuit of the economy gives way to a Bataillean general economy. If the
then a certain madness underlying our very existence. In Given Time, Derrida reminds us
that the gift is itself an act of madness: to give, knowing that it is impossible, is irrational.
14
Oliver argues that the economic relation does remain in effect insofar as the sacrifice of Isaac is the cost
of preserving paternal authority: [I]f [Abrahams] sacrifice is made at the command of the ultimate
Patriarch, God the Father, then [Abraham] the son is only protecting what is his own by giving in. His
sacrifice is made in the name of fatherhood, for the sake of preserving the authority of fatherhood (Oliver,
56).
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From an economic standpoint, it is a bad investment. Now, we are confronted with the
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Chapter 8: The Gift of Power
We began by examining the debate between Derrida and Foucault about the
possibility of writing a history of madness. Now in this final chapter, I return to that
debate to bring together the themes we have been tracingthe issue of madness, the
question of normalization and the other, the nature of power and the gift. I will argue that
reading Derrida and Foucault against each other provides us with a more complete
picture of the process of normalization. Derrida warns us that the other is always subject
to the imposition of our normalizing power. The economy of thought renders whatever is
other the same, which is necessary if we are to make sense of the other. But it also means
never letting the other appear as other. Foucault shows us how we are always already
ourselves. The normalization comes from the other; it is the other who normalizes me
and who I must resist, even if I ultimately cannot. By reading Derrida and Foucault
understand it as a gift.
In 1991, at the Ninth Colloquium of the International Society for the History of
Derrida revisited his original exchange with Foucault. In that paper and subsequent
Derrida says (repeatedly and at times less than forthrightly) that his aim is not to resume
the discussion (since, after all, Foucault is already dead) but to explore the place of Freud
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debts to Freud: Would Foucaults project have been possible without psychoanalysis,
with which it is contemporary and of which it speaks little and in such an equivocal or
Freud, which is perhaps justifiable given Foucaults focus on the classical age;
psychoanalysis simply was not an issue in the treatment of madness. The problem for
Derrida is that a close reading of History of Madness reveals that Freud occupies a
curiously ambiguous place in the text. Freud acts as a hinge, a point of rotation, around
which History of Madness successively opens and closes, draws near and distances,
rejects and accepts, excludes and includes, disqualifies and legitimates, masters and
that Derrida tracks in order to give Freud his due, i.e., to do justice to Freud.
The first swing in the hinge appears in the way Foucault aligns Freud with those
artists and thinkers who embody the point of contact between madness and the world,
figures such as Nietzsche, Artaud, Van Gogh, and Hlderlin. Foucault never actually
includes Freud in these lists, but he does acknowledge Freuds break with classical
psychology:
In its willingness to speak with unreason, psychoanalysis recalls the attitude toward
madness that was prevalent prior to the classical age. Rather than exclude madness as
1
Jacques Derrida, To Do Justice to Freud: The History of Madness in the Age of Psychoanalysis,
trans. Pascale-Anne Brault and Michael Naas, Critical Inquiry 20 (Winter 1994): 233. Hereafter
abbreviated in the text as DJF.
183
unreasonable or silence it as pathology, Freud lifts the Cartesian interdiction that
forbids dialogue with madness (DJF, 236). He encourages it to speak, letting it say what
it will; he does not demand that, if it must speak, it should only parrot reason and thus
conceal itself. But more than simply allowing madness to speak, Freud actually engages
it, drawing it out in dialogue. On this view, psychoanalysis becomes a site where
The second swing of the hinge occurs when Foucault claims that Freud is the
Tuke and Pinel who consign madness to the asylum (DJF, 244; HM, 510-511). Foucault
describes Freuds approach as imparting to the doctor an absence that was also a total
presence capable of a thaumaturgical omnipotence (HM, 510). The figure of the doctor
thus assumes all of the heretofore disparate powers of the asylum. Derrida observes that
satanic reiterates the very qualities of Descartess evil genius (DJF, 247). When
Foucault dismisses this power by grouping Freud with the practitioners of classical
psychiatry, he performs the same exclusion of the evil genius that he earlier criticized
Descartes for: by dismissing the idea of the Evil Genius, Descartes excluded madness.
Now we see Foucault dismissing the fictive omnipotence of the doctor and the
himself will write that despite the dialogue Freud engages in with unreason,
psychoanalysis cannot and will never be able to hear the voices of unreason nor decipher
on their own terms the signs of the insane. Psychoanalysis can untangle some forms of
madness, but it is a perpetual stranger to the sovereign work of unreason (HM, 511).
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This dismissal of the doctors bad genius inadvertently repeats the Cartesian exclusion
in a deadly and devilish way, like a heritage inscribed within a diabolical and almost all-
power program that one should admit one never gets rid of or frees oneself from without
remainder (DJF, 248). The implication here is that Foucault has failed to extricate
But the overarching issue for Derrida is Foucaults claim that we must do justice
psychology himself, Derrida remarks that when one says, one must do justice, one has
to be fair, it is often with the intention of correcting an impulse or reversing the direction
of a tendency; one is also recommending resisting a temptation (DJF, 236). What is this
temptation that Foucault is resisting? The need to master Freud. Foucault recognizes the
need to acknowledge Freuds break with classical psychiatry, but ultimately he succumbs
to the temptation to associate Freud with psychiatry and those who regard madness as
psychopathology. Doing so, he excludes Freud from those who conjoined madness and
the work of artand thus made Foucaults very project possible: The madness where an
uvre plunges into the void is the space of our work (HM, 537; my italics). On this
reading, Foucault not only relegates Freud to the sidelines; he suppresses the historical
conditions of his own project since he is writing a history of madness from within the age
of psychoanalysis (DJF, 232, 251). History of Madness both is and is not a work of the
age of Freudian psychoanalysis (DJF, 251). As a result of this suppression, the figure of
The perpetual threat, that is, the shadow of hauntingdoes not challenge
only one thing or another; it threatens the logic that distinguishes between
one thing and another, the very logic of exclusion or foreclosure, as well
as the history that is founded upon this logic and its alternatives. What is
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excluded is, of course, never simply excluded, not by the cogito nor by
anything else, without this eventually returningand that is what a certain
psychoanalysis will have also helped us to understand (DJF, 242).
As we saw in chapter 3, the specter undermines the logic of opposition. It is both here
and not here. It is and is not. Such a figure likewise undermines a historical project,
which relies on clear determinations for historical knowledge. In this case, it is Freud
who returns to haunt Foucaults history of madness; it is Freud who will not stay put in
A guiding issue in this debateand it is the issue that first opened the debate in
1963 and (literally and figuratively) closes the debateis mastery, and in this case
Foucaults efforts to master Freud. But given Derridas numerous asides about
Foucaults unfair and unjust reproaches and his parenthetical justifications for previous
comments in this debate (that he does not want to reopen), one cannot help wonder if
Freud is Derridas proxy.2 Derrida makes explicit his decision not to re-engage his
earlier debate with Foucault: I declined [the suggestion to re-open the debate] for
numerous reasons, the first being the one I just mentioned: one does not carry on a
stormy discussion after the other has departed. Second, because this whole thing has
become too distant from me, and perhaps because of the drama just alluded to I no longer
wished to return to it (DJF, 228). Once the possibility of the discussion returns, there is
an implicit demand to tip the scales. By responding to Foucault, Derrida could make this
protracted argument pay offhe will after all have the last word. He could take the role
of a long-term investor: by waiting long enough, i.e. until his antagonist can no longer
respond, he is free to win the debate. However, Derrida declines to capitalize on his
2
There is thus an inevitable slippage from Foucaults analysis of Descartess or Freuds mastery of
madness to Derridas analysis of Foucaults mastery of the ambivalence within his text with regard to
Descartes or Freud, to, finally, the relationship between Derrida and Foucault. (Naas, 68).
186
argumentative advantage since doing so would be unseemly and too tied to issues long
past. He refuses to speculate with the argument. He wants to let this discussion come to
a close.
Yet there is greater irony in Derridas refusal. The passage just cited continues:
By rereading all the texts of this discussion, right up to the last word, and especially the
last word, one will be better able to understand, I imagine, why I prefer not to give it a
new impetus today (DJF, 228; my italics). The formulation of the last clause, Derridas
declaration of his preference not to give the debate a new impetus, anticipates his brief
meditation on the same form of expression in The Gift of Death, which was published in
1992, shortly after this paper was delivered. There he muses about Melvilles Bartleby
Bartlebys response is sublimely ironic (GD, 76). Derridas own expression is equally
ironic since he of all people knows it is impossible for his text not to give new energy to
the discussion.3 His I would prefer not to must be read not as a reference to an
merely stating his preference will already re-open the debate. As much as he prefers not
to, it is impossible but to give new impetus. To actually attempt to close off the debate
would require faith in ones ability to master the text, which is impossible.
3
Naas glosses the preference itself: Derridas claimed desire not to give a new impetus to the debate
between himself and Foucault could be read as a desire not to return to the themes of exclusion and
madness in Descartes, that is, to a particular historical debate, but to give a new impetus, in the absence of
the other, to the question of what an impetus is, to give an impetus, then not to the debate as such but to the
impetus of the debate (Naas, 66-67).
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Knowing that the debate is going to be reopened and shifting attention away from
Descartes to Freud, Derrida introduces another term to the discussion. Descartes had
merely been the catalyst for Derridas and Foucaults intellectual sparring; one gets the
sense he was a convenient vehicle for both men to stake out their philosophical positions.
Here, however, Freud occupies the place of the other other, the one who appears and
demands justice. And justice for Freud, at least as Derrida articulates it, means
Earlier in the essay, Derrida tells us that Freud is the doorman of today, the holder of the
keys, of those that open as well as those that close the dooronto the today or onto
polices the threshold, determining who is excluded and who is included, who is denied
entry and who is admitted; it is at once a position of the law and of hospitality.4 By
making Freud the doorkeeper, Derrida implicitly equates Freuds and Foucaults
positions vis--vis reason and madness: both stand outside of madness but take the point
echoes Derridas first critique of Foucault, viz. that despite the best intentions, one cannot
speak for madness from the standpoint of reason. If Freud is to be included with those
Madness that may account for this ambivalence, and we can find the necessary terms in
4
David Boothroyd, "To be Hospitable to Madness: Derrida and Foucault Chez Freud, Journal for
Cultural Research 9.1 (2005): 13. Boothroyd sees Derrida as more sympathetic to Foucault than I do.
188
distinguishes between two elements that comprise any morality, viz. codes of behavior
and forms of subjectivity; each particular morality will prioritize one or the other. For
those that are code oriented, the focus is on the ability of the code to encompass all moral
questions and behavior and to systematize human life. And underlying this code is the
authority that demands it be observed and that punishes infractions. [I]n these
conditions, the subjectivation occurs basically in a quasi-juridical form, where the ethical
subject refers his conduct to a law, or a set of laws, to which he must submit at the risk of
committing offenses that may make him liable to punishment.5 Moralities that
emphasize the forms and practices that produce subjectivation, on the other hand, give
priority to the individuals relationship to herself, not her relationship to the rules, which
may be fairly basic. These moralities give greater ethical weight to the methods by which
those relations evolve, the exercises the individual engages in to know herself, and the
get of Freud in History of Madness can begin to address Derridas justified reading. (I
am not implying that this framework was somehow implicit in History of Madness and
Freud clearly assigns the analyst a quasi-juridical role: one need merely read his case
studies to see the application of norms and the passing of judgment on the thoughts and
behaviors of his patients. Dora, for example, violates the code of normal human
development by refusing to accept Freuds analysis and acknowledge her love for Herr K
(and Frau K and her father and, ultimately, Freud himself). For Freud, the doctor is the
5
Michel Foucault, History of Sexuality, Volume 2: The Use of Pleasure, trans. Robert Hurley (New York:
Vintage, 1985) 29-30. Hereafter abbreviated in the text as HS2.
189
voice of reason, the figure of authority whose role is to pull the abnormal into alignment
The tension arises, however, from the fact that Freud is not simply imposing a
Madness is a particular relationship one has to oneself and ones experiences, and this
relationship was of special interest to Freud. Unlike Pinel, he sees in madness not merely
a departure from social norms but a mode of being. The difficulty for Foucault is that
Freud succumbs to the code-oriented aspect and situates this form of subjectivity within a
relationship of domination.
For Derrida, both Freud and Foucault illustrate the danger and aporia of mastery:
Too much mastery (in the form of exclusion but also of objectification)
deprives one of mastery (in the form of access, knowledge, competence).
The concept of mastery is an impossible concept to manipulate, as we
know: the more there is, the less there is, and vice versa (DJF, 254).
Mastering something can mean overpowering and dominating, e.g. mastering the mad by
locking them away in asylums. At the same time, it can mean attaining an aptitude or
facility, e.g. mastering the piano. Foucault, of course, is well aware of the aporetic nature
of mastery. Our normalization expands our competencies while limiting our ability to
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power deprives us of other forms of self-mastery. Here, then, is the crux of the difference
between Derrida and Foucault: they understand the question of normalization from
products of the normalizing other, Derrida is cautioning us that our mastery over the
otherour rendering the other the sameis necessary to know the other, but it deprives
us of knowing the other since what we know is reduced or homogenized to our own
conceptual frameworks.
The introduction of Freud into the debate illustrates these opposite orientations
toward mastery. For Derrida, Freud is the other whose normalization by Foucault we are
Beyond the Pleasure Principle that would problematize his reading. For Foucault, the
point is to get out from under the normalized ways of thinking (embodied in this case by
Freud) that shape our understanding. But Foucault, like Derrida, is aware that mastery
can too easily become domination. As his final works show, he was uncovering
As we saw in the quotation from Foucault that opened the chapter, relations of power
comprise human relations in which one directs or attempts to direct the behavior of the
other. These relations occur at different levels, assume different forms, are changeable
and modifiable; they are open (they are not given once and for all). In fact, relations of
power require free subjects. In order to exercise a relation of power, there must be on
both sides at least a certain form of liberty (ECS, 12). This presents relations of power
as inherently unstable: in all such relations, power can be reversed. It is precisely the
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reversibility of power relations that differentiates it from domination: states of
domination block the field of power relations, rendering the relations invariable and
preventing any reversibility. So it is not relations of power that must be avoided (which
would be impossible since they are necessary). What must be avoided is power that
becomes domination: The problem is not to dissolve [power relations] in the utopia of a
perfectly transparent communication, but to give ones self the rules of law, the
techniques of management, and also the ethics, the ethos, the practice of self, which
would allow these games of power to be played with a minimum of domination (ECS,
18).
For Foucault, classical ethics provide a helpful model for us because they
organized forms of life without appealing to a normalizing structure. And because there
The art of the self emphasizes developing practices and exercises that engender self-
control. But this self-control is not motivated out of a Protestant sense of self-denial.
The purpose is to produce enjoyment of oneself (HS3, 239). The tradition that has
necessary basis for morality, whether it is Gods law or universal rational principles.
Because of this heritage, an aesthetics and enjoyment of the self as a moral stance is hard
7
Michel Foucault, History of Sexuality, Volume 3: The Care of the Self, trans. Robert Hurley (New York:
Vintage, 1986) 239. Hereafter abbreviated in the text as HS3.
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for us to fathom. [O]ur morality, a morality of asceticism, insists that the self is that
which one can reject.8 Within classical ethics, the arts of existence are
those intentional and voluntary actions by which men not only set
themselves rules of conduct, but also seek to transform themselves, to
change themselves in their singular being, and to make their life into an
oeuvre that carries certain aesthetic values and meets certain stylistic
criteria (HS2, 10-11).
The moral value of a chosen way of life did not derive from conformity with a code of
behavior. It had to do with how one used pleasures, limited them, and hierarchized them
(HS2, 89). Our sensibilities, shaped as they are by a morality of asceticism, see this
emphasis on pleasure as opening the door to hedonism, but as Foucaults analyses reveal,
making ones life a work of art requires discipline, discipline recast in terms of
Classical ethics was a choice, not the imposition of a norm. [I]t was not a question of
giving a pattern of behavior for everybody (OGE, 230). The subject chose the practices
and exercises he imposed on himself. This relationship of the self to itself, the totality of
practices through which I constitute and organize the strategies I can use with regard to
off the freedom of the subject and the relationship to others, i.e., that which constitutes
the very matter of ethics (ECS, 20). In these practices, we find careful attention paid to
8
Luther Martin, Huck Gutman, and Patrick Hutton, eds., Technologies of the Self: A Seminar With Michel
Foucault (Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press, 1988) 22. Hereafter abbreviated in the text as TS.
9
Michel Foucault, On the Genealogy of Ethics: An Overview of Work in Progress, in Dreyfus and
Rabinow, Michel Foucault: Beyond Structuralism and Hermeneutics, 240. Hereafter abbreviated in the
text as OGE.
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the points of contact between technologies of domination of others and technologies of
the self. These technologies are designed to liberate insofar as they keep the relations of
power open. The mastery they seek is self-mastery, not the mastery of the other that
Know thyself, the fundamental principle of Western thought. This is the Socratic
maxim that is supposed to ground a purposeful life; it is also now the driving force
behind the religious and psychotherapeutic industries. But the original central principle
for the Greeks was the other Delphic imperative to care for the self. Caring for oneself,
only what is important to ones self or life (OGE, 243). This is not simply self-interest or
being concerned with something or working on it, paying attention to how one does
Within classical ethics, the individual did not become an ethical subject by
but rational and deliberate, structure (HS2, 62). These actions and this structure signified
a self-mastery and a stylized attitude toward ones life that provide an ethical framework
in which cultivating oneself is not predicated on possessing the truth of oneself. This is
the difference between care of the self and a narcissistic cult of self: in the latter, people
believe they act as that they do because they know the truth about themselves (about their
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desires, their body, their psychology, etc.). Classical concern with the self is different
from what Foucault calls the California cult of the self because the Greeks and Romans
posited no true or authentic self (OGE, 245). For them, care of the self was not about
Nor is this care of the self meant to be quietistic or require the withdrawal of the
subject from involvement with others. Quite the opposite: the care of the self explicitly
involves carefully cultivated relationships with others. Care of the self in the Greco-
Roman world consisted of social practices; it was carried out in schools and communities
Around the care of the self, there developed an entire activity of speaking
and writing in which the work of oneself on oneself and communication
with others were linked together. Here we touch on one of the most
important aspects of this activity devoted to oneself: it constituted, not an
exercise in solitude, but a true social practice (HS3, 51).
Its goal was social and political involvement along with the affirmation of ones
autonomy and freedom. For the Romans, attention needed to be paid to ones
relationships to others, but the danger was not mastery of the other; it was physical and
psychical dependence in which one lacked control over ones own life and risked pain
over the loss of the other. There must be constant monitoring that one is not growing too
bound up with the other. So while the care of the self entails a correct relationship to
others, oneself comes first. The care of the self takes moral precedence in the measure
that the relationship to self takes ontological precedence (ECS, 7). This intensification
When, in the practice of the care of the self, one appealed to another
person in whom one recognized an aptitude for guidance and counseling,
one was exercising a right. And it was a duty that one was performing
when one lavished ones assistance on another, or when one gratefully
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received the lessons the other might give. [] The care of the selfor the
attention one devotes to the care that others should take of themselves
appears then as an intensification of social relations (HS3, 53).
Care for the self creates the recognition of obligations toward the other. In cultivating
oneself, one would seek help from ones friends and colleagues, with the understanding
With the Greeks, the concern surrounding the issues raised by caring for the self
and the relationship between caring for the self and knowing the self stemmed from the
idea that young men preparing for adulthood needed a techne that enabled them to live in
such a way that they could care for the city. Caring for the self was preparation for
caring for political life. With the Romans, cultivation of the self became a lifelong
preparation for death and, therefore, an end in itself. More than a political techne, Roman
care for the self takes the form of doctoring the self (TS, 31). Over the course of a
lifetime, the individual is vulnerable to various hazards, so attention needs to be paid and
precautions have to be taken. Sex, for example, is something to be managed, not because
it is evil but because it taxes the body in the same ways that exercise and food tax the
body. Austerity with regard to these practices was merely the way in which one stylized
These practices and technologies of the self are manifold and differ widely, but
they all have a common goal, viz., the principle of conversion to self (HS3, 64). It is a
This relation to self that constitutes the end of the conversion and the final
goal of all the practices of the self still belongs to an ethics of control. []
If to convert to oneself is to turn away from the preoccupations of the
external world, from the concerns of ambition, from fear of the future,
196
then one can turn back to ones own past, recall it to mind, have it unfold
as one pleases before ones own eyes, and have a relationship with it that
nothing can disturb (HS3, 65-66).
For the Romans, the ethics of control is cast in the discourse of juridical possession: one
masters oneself or belongs to oneself. But this possession is not presupposed; it is the
control are tests to see how one responds to situations. They measure ones
independence from the superfluous (HS3, 59). Epictetus paid close attention to his
representations with the goal of evaluating every thought. He sought to live in a state of
world around him by establishing what he had control over and what he did not. Other
Stoics engaged in meditation, for example, that involved a kind of eidetic reduction: they
imagined the worst-case scenario was occurring right now. The goal of such
premeditatio mallorum is to realize that these sufferings are not really things to suffer
from; these events are not intrinsically bad, they just are what they are. Seneca, who
advised reflection on ones actions at the end of each day, saw self-examination as a way
of remembering the truth. This truth is not some authentic core of the subject that needs
to be dug out; it is merely the rules of conduct we set for ourselveswhat should be done
in our daily lives and in our dealings with others. The subject thus becomes the locus of
self-imposed rules of conduct and acts, and this examination of ones conscience
becomes an important way of taking stock of oneself. It is not a way of judging oneself
because the point is not to assess intentions. Rather, the goal is to find our faults, which
are merely good intentions not acted on. These are mistakes that need to be corrected,
197
not signs of a corrupt inner self. Seneca never passes judgment on himself: his model is
Roman period, like our own, was concerned about the individuals relation to alienating
social conditions. These similarities are not meant to imply that the Romans are a
primitive version of the social fragmentation of modern society. Nor are ancient cultures
an alternative to which we can turn. There is no ideal historical period we can recover.
Foucault states clearly that he is not looking for an alternative, merely looking at how
responses to similar problems produce entirely different forms of life. Earlier ages only
offer points of comparison and reveal that our current situation is not a historical
It merely shows us the contingency of our own forms of life and provides us with an
example of how care of the self can produce self-knowledge and social interaction.
Even the non-normative framework of an aesthetics of the self has become normalizing.
However attractive this idea of self-creation might be, it is now the central trope for
consumer culture. In Foucault Beyond Foucault, Jeffrey Nealon takes issue with those
systems within capitalism, and he argues, rightly, that consumption capitalism performs
198
its hegemonic or totalizing work not through some notion of cultural standardization or
Multinational corporations encourage us to discover our unique style and define our own
way of beingby purchasing their products. Subcultures such as skateboarders and bike
messengers show their disdain for the commercialized and homogenized beer of major
brewers by drinking Pabst Blue Ribbon, which is brewed by Miller.11 Young men
(mostly) declare their individuality by modifying their Toyota Scions using the
companys pre-packaged options. The dieting industry appropriates the language of self-
care.12 The subsumption of the very act of self-creation represents the ne plus ultra of
late capitalism. More specific to our purposes, it is a clear illustration of the impossibility
of emancipation: our ownmost inner projects are already pre-packaged and commodified.
Even the rejection of a consumer lifestyle has itself become a lifestyle to be marketed.
The gift of liberation now expands the economy; the very act of resisting supports the
normalization it resists.
As we have seen so far, both Derrida and Foucault show us that any attempt to
break free of the bonds of the existing system will, in the end, reinforce the system. The
gift expands the economy; acts of resistance support the expansion of power. We have
been circling this theme for some time now. Chapters six and seven showed how Derrida
10
Jeffrey Nealon, Foucault Beyond Foucault, Power and Its Intensifications since 1984 (Stanford: Stanford
University Press, 2008) 12.
11
See Rob Walkers interesting account of this in Buying In: The Secret Dialogue Between What We Buy
and Who We Are (New York: Random House, 2008).
12
See chapter 3 of Cressida Heyes, Self-Transformations: Foucault, Ethics, and Normalized Bodies
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007).
199
situates the impossibility of emancipation along the gift-economy axis; and chapters four
and five examined how Foucault situates it along the power-resistance axis. On first
glance, the concept of power is analogous to the concept of economy: both act as
overarching systems that encompass disruptive moments. However, power does not
function as an overarching system within which resistance occurs; gifts are given within a
larger economy. Economies need gifts in order to function, as Derrida maintains, but
unlike gifts and economies, resistance and power are concomitant. The emergence of
power relations automatically brings resistance with it. But while the analogy between
power and economy does not hold, we can find another, perhaps counterintuitive,
Derridean gift.
Consider the three criteria necessary for a pure gift that were laid out in chapter
six: (1) a giver who is unrecognized, either by herself or by the receiver; (2) a receiver
who is unrecognized by himself or by the giver; and (3) a gift that is unrecognized as a
gift. Derrida has already shown us two instances of this impossible gift, viz. the giving
of a text and the giving of death to the other others I sacrifice. Foucaults concept of
normalizing power adheres to these criteria and is another instance of this impossible
person, a caring spouse, a committed member of a community. But what I have done, in
200
Power, as we saw in chapters four and five, is not something we possess. It is not
a thing or a commodity, so it is not ours to give yet we give power constantly. Foucault
tells us that as subjects, individuals are always exercising power. We are the elements
of its articulation and the vehicles of power (PK, 98). At the end of Discipline and
Punish, Foucault describes the rise of the carceral, the network of disciplinary
But as normalizing processes and techniques have continued to expand, we can apply this
description to daily life. The judges of normality are present, and we are they. Our
time, we are constantly being shaped through the ever-present giving and receiving of
normalizing power. My actions and behavior toward another influence her actions and
it is concealed by the behaviors themselves. This is a gift we never know that we give.
I cannot know that I give power because of the peculiar impact that power has on
201
indefinite, constantly shifting screen of local sites, on the surfaces of
interactions, of the bodies themselves, in patterns produced by the local
intensities of force and relations of force that happen to be activated.13
Each person comprises a unique arrangement of power relations. The introduction of any
new form of power or new relation will be altered to fit even as it alters the existing
arrangement. As I interact with others, these constitutive relations and their attendant
local intensities and relations of force intersect with new ones and are reinforced. What
results is not a product of conscious thought: I do not know beforehand (or even after)
what the effects of these intersections will be, nor am I aware that power has passed
between us. Of course I am aware of the interaction, and sometimes I am aware of the
power relations that exist in the relation (if, for example, I am talking to one of my
students), but I am not conscious of powers circulation. I cannot know how the
intersection of multiplicities of power relations will alter that particular multiplicity that
comprises the other person. I have given him something, viz. normalizing power, but I
do not know what was given, when it was given, or how it was given. It is unknown to
a gift, I accept it with gratitude. I may be unaware of who gave it to me, but I still feel an
obligation to reciprocate with a similar gesture. The gift thus becomes merely a debt that
must be discharged.
Just as we are the unwitting vehicles of power, we are the unwitting recipients of
it. Everyone else is constantly articulating normalizing power, which means we are
constantly receiving power from the other, even though we do not recognize it as such.
13
John Carvalho, Power: Method of the Deployments of Sexuality, Reinterpreting the Political:
Continental Philosophy and Political Theory, eds. Lenore Langsdorf and Stephen Watson, volume 20
(Albany: SUNY Press, 1998) 257.
202
The disciplinary processes we undergo are certainly recognizable to us. I can look back
at a given experience and identify the technologies of power and its effects in my new
capacities. I can even feel gratitude toward those who instilled those capacities. But the
normalization itself that these capacities require, i.e., the closing off of other possibilities,
is never present to me and can never be structurally present to me for the same reason
that the other others I sacrifice in fulfilling my duty to the other before me are never
present. Normalization structurally conceals the forms of life we will never know behind
power relations, the effects that I recognize are already different from the power that
created them. How I am changed, how the configuration of power relations that is me
has been altered because of my interaction with the other, is unknown to me. I therefore
Criterion 3: The gift must be unrecognized as a gift. To perceive the gift as such,
whether I am the giver or the receiver, instantly puts me back into a system of exchange.
conscious of power itself nor can we know precisely those particular power relations that
shaped us and are shaping us now. As a result of its constant circulation, power
undergoes constant change (HS1, 99). Ransom employs the metaphor of genetic coding
203
power relations. A mutation of one of these genes can, as it were, change
the balance of factors making up the broader unit, thus producing a
mutation.14
As with genes, the slightest mutations are passed on to others and altered further, setting
off larger and compounding alterations. While Ransom presents this error and the
to change power.15 I do not have to reflect on my actions to make room for new ones,
although I certainly can. Power is always already altered by its contact with other forms
power that flow through me. Any reflection on those relations will not yield the original
form of power, but will show only the new instantiation. Thus the forms of power that
Power constitutes a giving without a gift. It is not a thing, but it still operates in
and through things, viz. practices and the bodies of subjects. It remains invisible while
recognize the gift of subjectivity that is given to us, nor do we recognize ourselves as
As a gift, power mirrors the general economy of giving that Derrida describes in
The Gift of Death. The giving of power is not an isolated or discrete act; it is a
14
Ransom, 176-177.
15
Ibid., 129-130, 178.
204
gift given without reserve, resistance ceases to be a discrete or rare or intentional act
since, as Foucault tells us, where there is power there is also resistance. So while we
We have then a way to re-conceive not only power, but how we respond to power. If we
And if we fail to do so, we fail to recognize the openness, the general economy of
resistance that surrounds us. The possibilities for inventing new ways of responding to
normalization are endless and endlessly expanding. This expansion brings us back to
Foucault would respond to Freuds conceptualization of the drive for power that he
develops in Beyond the Pleasure Principle. Imagining Foucaults response, speaking for
him, Derrida says, one must stop believing in the principled unity of pleasure and
power, or of some drive that is thought to be more originary than the other. The theme of
the spiral would be that of a drive duality (power/pleasure) that is without principle.
Then, speaking for himself, Derrida adds, It is the spirit of this spiral that keeps one in
suspense, holding ones breathand, thus, keeps one alive (DJF, 266).
16
Nealon, 99.
205
Conclusion
Such a reality is born precisely from the interplay of relations of power and everything
which constantly eludes them, at the interface, so to speak, of governors and governed.1
circulates from the governing to the governed is a Derridean gift; this transactional reality
normalizing power, which is intended to yield order and homogeneity, which is intended
to nullify the unproductive and restore rational thinking, in fact produces new forms of
life. As Foucault shows us throughout his work, the transactional realities that are born
out of relations of power are the conditions of possibility for new ways of thinking and
being.
By following the theme of madness that framed their initial debate, I have tracked
the parallels between Foucaults and Derridas subsequent work. It has led us to the
(perhaps mad) idea that the circulation of normalizing power can be thought of in terms
of Derridas aneconomy of the gift. One might argue that the gift and power are not
the gift described in Given Time, resistance is a temporary disruption of a larger system;
and this disruption ultimately allows the system to extend its reach. What we see initially
when we juxtapose Derridas and Foucaults thinking is a proportional relation: the gift
functions within the circular movement of the economy just as resistance functions within
1
Michel Foucault, The Birth of Biopolitics: Lectures at the Collge de France, 1978-1979, trans. Graham
Burchell, ed. Arnold I. Davidson (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2008) 297.
206
the circulation of normalizing power. Two points speak against this view, one from
Foucault, one from Derrida. First, Foucault states that resistance can only occur within
power that are already present. It is power disrupting its own circulation in ways that
cause it to expand.
Second, Derridas later analysis of the gift in The Gift of Death reveals a deeper
and philosophically richer connection between the gift and normalizing power: here the
gift is no longer viewed as a discrete act within a larger economy (as it was in Given
Time); instead, the gift of death, the sacrifice of the other others, is in constant
circulation. This gift is always being given, with every act and at every moment. Taking
relationship and every interactionnot just our non-relationships with other others.
Normalizing power is a constant sacrifice of otherness. A parent feeding his own child
sacrifices all the other children he cannot feed. But feeding his own child also sacrifices
the child herself: in the process, he normalizes her in terms of when to eat, what to eat,
how to eat. Together, Foucault and Derrida make it clear that every encounter with the
other sacrifices otherness, whether it is the otherness of the other or the otherness of
myself. Derrida worries that the sacrifice of the other, the reduction of the other to the
Foucault details the subtle normalizing impact of the other on me. For Derrida, to be
truly other, the other must be completely unexpected: if I harbor expectations about the
207
other, I determine beforehand what the other will be and what I will recognize. The other
rules telling me how to respond to it. As his analyses illustrate, I have a responsibility to
let the other show itself as other, i.e., without my placing limitations or determinations on
it, which is an impossibility. However much I might want the other to remain other, I
cannot help but make the other something assimilable and thus the same. Even trying to
understand the other entails turning the other something understandable, something
normal.
Reading Derrida through Foucault and introducing the question of power into the
analyses of the gift intensifies the aporia of the coming of the other. To take one
example, Derrida begins Given Time with a reading of a sentence from a letter by
Madame de Maintenon, the wife of Louis XIV: The king takes all my time; I give the
rest to Saint-Cyr, to whom I would like to give all. In his signature fashion, Derrida
reads this literally and turns it into a paradox. The king takes all of de Maintenons time,
she writes. Her duties to the sovereign claim her time. She can give only what is left
over, which is nothing. For Derrida, de Maintenon is in an impossible situation, and this
impossibility structures the gift. Her desire is to give what she cannot, but desire here is a
Levinasian gesture; it is expenditure or emptying of herself. This desire takes the form of
giving and is directed toward the impossible. Wanting to give what she does not have,
she represents a giving beyond ones means and a giving of what one needs for oneself;
this is a giving of what one did not know one had to give.
What Derrida does not comment on are the multi-layered power relations
208
embodies both the juridico-monarchical form of power (in her relationship to the king)
and the disciplinary, normalizing form (in her role as founder of Saint-Cyr). However
much she desires the power of giving, she already gives power, power that she herself
does not necessarily possess. As Louis XIVs morganatic wife, she who was not queen
herself returned a sense of normalcy by bringing the Louis XIV back to his role as king
(GT, 2, fn 1). She is outside the recognized structure of sovereign power, yet
intellectual, and moral growth of young women from good families that had fallen into
financial difficulty. Her position within the economy of sovereign power enabled her to
start a charitable institution, i.e., one that remained outside the circle of the economy.
Following Louis XIVs death, de Maintenon retired to Saint-Cyr, i.e., left the economy of
political power, and served as administrator of the institution full time, thus assuming a
This omission of power on Derridas reading is all the more curious since he
This rest of the rest of time of which she cannot make a present, that is
in truth what she would desire, not for herself but so as to be able to give
itfor the power of giving, perhaps, so as to give herself this power of
giving (GT, 4; emphasis added).
Madame de Maintenon desires this power of giving, the power found in giving to the
king, i.e. her influence over him, the power found in maintaining her institution, and the
giving. De Maintenons gives herself the power of giving by resisting the totalizing
influence of the king; she creates for herself something to give. But she can do so only
209
because she exists within the circulation of power. Far from being rendered powerless,
she has the power of giving, the power to create something new, because of powers
effect on her. On this view, the powerless are not those oppressed by power; the
powerless are those who are untouched by power. This raises the interesting implication
for Derrida since the other, as one untouched by normalization, is fact powerless. The
other cannot create anything new until it is within the circulation of power. The other
must come before anything new can occur within the sphere of the same.
Reading Foucault and Derrida together and against each other, we gain a deeper
structural giving, we are left with the counterintuitive conclusion that normalization is
dissemination. Foucault has been criticized for the quietist or fatalist implications of his
work, but by viewing power as a general economy, as a structural giving, we can see that
with the aneconomic circulation of power also come boundless possibilities for self-
creation. By recognizing normalization as power that never returns to itself, we must also
recognize the possibility of constant change and development. Thinking the unthought,
finding those moments of emancipation from the sphere of sameness, come gradually and
only through the giving of power. Normalizing power is the maddest gift of all.
210
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