Might we not dream . . . of some
meta-philosophy, of a more general dis-course which would
still be of a philosophical kind, on metaphors of the “primary degree,” on those non-true
metaphors which set philosophy ajar [entrouvert la philosophie]? There would be some
interest in work under the heading of a meta-metaphorics such as this. . . . First of all we shall
direct interest upon a certain usure [both attrition through wear and tear and supplementation
through usury] of metaphorical force in philosophical intercourse. It will be-come clear that
this usure is not a supervenient factor modifying a kind of trope-decay which is other-wise
destined to remain intact; on the contrary, it constitutes the very history and structure of
philosophical metaphor. (MP 308, 249; “White Mythology” 61, 6; italics mine)
(It should be mentioned here that, at the end of the second edition of Histoire de la folie,
which appeared eleven years after the first, Foucault includes a twenty-page rebuttal of
Derrida’s critique, entitled “Mon corps, ce papier, ce feu.” Foucault’s analysis of Derrida’s
misreading [as he thinks] of Descartes is thorough and often convincing, and should be
examined carefully. For our purposes here, it suffices to note that Foucault does not address
himself to the precomprehended cogito. His point is rather to prove that Descartes does indeed
exclude madness as he does not exclude the dream. He takes Derrida’s reading to be “a
generalization of doubt,” a taking away of the Cartesian certitude from Descartes. This
reading is, of course, not altogether false, but it leaves untouched the configuration of
Derrida’s more interesting suggestion that the Cartesian certitude is grounded on a category
that may just as easily be described as either certitude or doubt, neither certitude nor doubt. In
fact when, speaking against Derrida, Foucault shows us that Descartes disqualifies [rather
than excludes] madness from giving evidence, as an “excessive and impossible proof” [p.
596], we may suggest that Foucault’s reading in this case is not very different from Derrida’s.)
But the most interesting thing about Foucault’s rebuttal is the virulence at the end. I shall
make no attempt to defend Derrida here, but will ex-tract a passage from Foucault to give you
a taste of the hostility toward the threat of the “sous rature”—a concept that Foucault, in these
lines, does not seem to have carefully attended—that is not necessarily confined to Michel
Foucault:
Today Derrida is the most decisive representative of a [classical] system in its final glory; the
reduction of discursive practice to textual traces; the elision of the events that are produced
there in order to retain nothing but marks for a reading; the invention of voices behind texts in
order not to have to analyse the modes of implication of the subject in discourse; assigning the
spoken and the unspoken in the text to an originary placè in order not to have to reinstate
((1xii))
the discursive practises -in the field of transformations where they are effectuated. ... It is an
historically sufficiently determined little pedagogy which manifests itself most visibly. A
pedagogy that tells the pupil that there is nothing outside of the text, but that within it, in its
interstices, in its white spaces and unspokennesses, the reserve of the origin reigns; it is not at
all necessary to search elsewhere, for exactly here, to be sure not in the words, but in words as
erasures, in their grill, “the meaning of being” speaks itself. A pedagogy that conversely gives
to the voice of the teacher that unlimited sovereignty which permits them to read the text
indefinitely [p. 6oa].
Derrida defends psychoanalysis against Foucault, who calls it “a monologue of reason
about
madness.”72 “It is not by chance that it is only today that such a project [as Foucault’s] could
be formed. . . . It must be sup-posed that . a certain liberation of madness has begun, that
psychiatry, in however small a way, is open, that the concept of madness as unreason, if it
ever had a unity, has been dislocated.” (ED 61)
Jacques Lacan, the great contemporary interpreter of Freud, is an instigator of such a
dislocation. Not only has he underwritten Freud’s own denial of a difference in kind between
the “normal” and the “abnormal” psyche, but he has also rejected the dogma, launched
according to him by American ego psychologists,73 that the ego is the primary determinant of
the psyche. He works, rather, with a “subject” which can never be a “total personality,” the
“exercise of whose function” is to be forever divided from the object of its desire (Lacan
computes the structural relationships among need, demand for love, and desire), and to
constitute itself in the distortive play of metaphor and metonymy—displacement and con-
densation—that forever distances the other, the object of its desire, from itself. (Ec 692) Freud
had not allowed verbality to lodge deeper than the Preconscious, thus protecting the
metaphysical alterity of the Unconscious. Lacan extends Freud in a direction that Derrida
would endorse. He defines the unconscious in terms of the structure of a language: “It is not
only man who speaks, but ... in man and by man it [id] speaks, ... his nature becomes woven
by the effects where the structure of language, whose material he becomes, is recovered.” (Ec
688-89)
Derrida is aware of the affinity between Lacan’s thought and his own: “In France, the ‘literary
criticism’ marked by psychoanalysis had not asked the question of the text. . . . Although
Lacan is not directly and systematically interested in the so-called ‘literary’ text, . . . the
general question of the text is incessantly at work [in his discourse].” (FV 100-01)
Yet in spite of, perhaps because of, this proximity, the relationship between these two men is
charged with unease. Dissociating himself from the “perversions” spawned by his own work
between 1953 and 1967, Lacan
((lxiii))
finds it necessary to interject: “. . . my discourse . . . is a different kind of buoy in this rising
tide of the signifier, of the signified, of the ‘it speaks,’ of trace, of grammè, of lure, of myth,
from the circulation of which I have now withdrawn. Aphrodite of this foam, there has arisen
from it latterly di f f erance, with an a.”74 Derrida, in an uncharacteristically positivistic ges-
ture, has settled the question of Lacan’s influence upon himself in a long footnote to an
interview. (Pos F 117 f., Pos E II. 43-44) But let us admit that, on occasion, Derrida will not
allow Lacan the same playfulness with terms that he allows himself 75
The relationship between Jacques Lacan and Jacques Derrida has no apparent bearing upon
the subject matter of the Grammatology. But the controlled and limited polemic between them
does illuminate two issues important for an understanding of the Grammatology within the
general framework of Derrida’s thought: the place of “truth” in discourse and the place of the
signifier in general.
First, then, a consideration of the place of “truth” in Lacanian discourse as Derrida interprets
it.