interiorization
[Erinnerung] of philosophy is, in this reading, one version of a colossal
exigency. The related and powerful dogma in criticism, most recently under-written by the
critics of the Geneva School,80 is the circle of hermeneutics (interpretation rather than
exposition) : criticism as a movement of identification between the “subjectivity” of the
author as implied in the text, and the “subjectivity” of the critic:
In fact, it is against the incessant reappropriation of this work of the simulacrum [as opposed
to the identical repetition] in a Hegelian type of dialectics .. . that I am attempting to channel
the critical enterprise, Hegelian idealism consisting precisely in sublating the binary
oppositions of classical idealism, of resolving their contradiction in a third term which turns
up to “aufheben,” to deny while uplifting, while idealizing, while sublimating in an
anamnestic interiority (Erinnerung [the German word also for memory]) while interning
difference in a presence to itself. (Pos F 59, Pos E I. 36)
Hegel articulated the circle as his central theme (39-41, 25-26), sublating the balanced binary
oppositions of classical philosophy. But even in a classical philosophical text there seems to
be a moment when the possibility of the indefinite loss of meaning (dissemination) is pulled
back into the circuit of meaningfulness; the orderly oppositions functioning under the benign
supervision of order as presence, presence as order. Such moments, too, operate in the
interests of the circular project of philosophy. Derrida dis-engages them in such divergent
texts as those of Aristotle and Descartes. When Aristotle declares Zeno’s aporia (time both is
and is not) and steps over it without deconstructing it (MP 57, Eng 73-74), or when Descartes
proves God’s existence by means of the natural light (of reason), which, “as something
natural, . . . has its source in God, in the God whose existence has been put in doubt and then
demonstrated thanks to it” (MP 319, WM 69-70), then Derrida points at that equation-
balancing at work. Speaking of the metaphor of the house chosen again and again by philo-
sophical practice, Derrida suggests the pervasiveness of the circular project, and its
articulation in Hegel: “.... the borrowed dwelling [demeure] .. . expropriation, being-away-
from-home, but still in a dwelling, away from home but in someone’s home, a place of self-
recovery, self-recognition, self-mustering, self-resemblance, outside of the self in itself [hors
de soi en soi]. This is philosophical metaphor as a detour in (or in view of)
the reap-
((lxxiv))
propriation, the second coming, the self-presence of the idea in its light. A metaphorical
journey from the Platonic eidos to the Hegelian Idea.” (MP 302, WM 55)
“Outside of the self—in itself.” Derrida is doing more here than simply commenting on
philosophy’s circular project. He is describing one of the mainstays of this project—the
opposition between metaphor and truth—metaphor as a detour to truth, truth as “outside
itself” in the borrowed dwelling of a metaphor, but also “itself,” since the metaphor points at
its own truth.
Traditional textual interpretation founds itself on this particular under-standing of metaphor: a
detour to truth. Not only individual metaphors or systems of metaphors, but fiction in general
is seen as a detour to a truth that the critic can deliver through her interpretation. We do not
usually examine the premises of this familiar situation. If we did, we would find, of course,
that not only is there no pure language that is free from metaphor-the metaphor “is therefore
involved in the field it would be the purpose of a general ‘metaphorology’ to subsume” (MP
261, WM 18); we would find also that the idea that fiction begins in the truth of the author and
ends in the uncovering of that truth by the critic is given the lie by our critical and
pedagogical practice. Although we customarily say that the text is autonomous and self-
sufficient, there would be no justification for our activity if we did not feel that the text
needed interpretation. The so-called secondary material is not a simple adjunct to the so-
called primary text. The latter inserts itself within the interstices of the former, filling holes
that are always already there. Even as it adds itself to the text, criticism supplies a lack in the
text and the gaps in the chain of criticism anterior to it. The text is not unique (the
acknowledged presence of polysemy already challenges that uniqueness); the critic creates a
substitute. The text belongs to language, not to the sovereign and generating author. (New
Criticism, although it vigorously argued the self-enclosure and “organic unity” of the text, and
indulged in practice in the adulation of the author, had a sense of this last insight in its critique
of the “intentional fallacy.”) Derrida, questioning the unity of language itself, and put-ting
metaphor under erasure, radically opens up textuality.
Curiously enough, deconstructive criticism must take the “metaphoric” structure of a text very
seriously. Since metaphors are not reducible to truth, their own structures “as such” are part of
the textuality (or message) of the text.
And, as I have hinted before, deconstruction must also take into account the lack of
sovereignty of the critic himself. Perhaps this “will to ignorance” is simply a matter of
attitude, a realization that one’s choice of “evidence” is provisional, a self-distrust, a distrust
of one’s own power, the control of one’s vocabulary, a shift from the phallocentric to the
hymeneal. Even so,
((lxxv))
it is an important enough lesson for the critic, that self-professed custodian of the public
“meaning” of literature. The tone of the section entitled “The Exorbitant. Question of
Method” where Derrida “justifies” his choice of subject, gives us a glimpse of that lesson
learned. I quote a few sentences from it: “We must begin wherever we are and the thought of
the trace
.. has already taught us that it is impossible to justify a point of departure absolutely.
Wherever we are; in a text where we already believe ourselves to be” (232-33, 162) .
But in the long run a critic cannot himself present his own vulnerability. We come back
simply to that question of attitude. And to the awareness that both literature and its criticism
must open itself to a deconstructive reading, that criticism does not reveal the “truth” of
literature, just as literature reveals no “truth.”
A reading that produces rather than protects. That description of deconstruction we have
already entertained. Here is another: “. . . the task is .. . to dismantle [déconstruire] the
metaphysical and rhetorical structures which are at work in [the text], not in order to reject or
discard them, but to reinscribe them in another way.” (MP 256, WM 13)
How to dismantle these structures? By using a signifier not as a transcendental key that will
unlock the wav to truth but as a bricoleur’s or tinker’s tool—a “positive lever” (Pos F 109,
Pos E II. 41) . If in the process of deciphering a text in the traditional way we come across a
word that seems to harbor an unresolvable contradiction, and by virtue of being one word is
made sometimes to work in one way and sometimes in another and thus is made to point away