And above all with a “vulgar concept of time.” I borrow this expression from Heidegger. It
designates, at the end of Being and Time, a concept of time thought in terms of spatial
movement or of the now, and dominating all philosophy from Aristotle’s Physics to Hegel’s
Logic. 34 This concept, which determines all of classical ontology, was not bom out of a
philosopher’s carelessness or from a theoretical lapse. It is intrinsic to the totality of the
history of the Occident, of what unites its metaphysics and its technics. And we shall see it
later associated with the linearization of writing, and with the linearist concept of speech. This
linearism is undoubtedly inseparable from phonologism; it can raise its voice to the same
extent that a linear writing can seem to submit to it. Saussure’s entire theory of the “linearity
of the signifier” could be interpreted from this point of view.
Auditory signifiers have at their command only the dimension of time. Their elements are
presented in succession; they form a chain. This feature becomes readily apparent when they
are represented in writing. . . . The signifier, being auditory, is unfolded solely in time from
which it gets the following characteristics: (a) it represents a span, and (b) the span is
measurable in a single dimension; it is a line. 35
It is a point on which Jakobson disagrees with Saussure decisively by substituting for the
homogeneousness of the line the structure of the musical staff, “the chord in music.” 36 What
is here in question is not Saussure’s affirmation of the temporal essence of discourse but the
concept of time that guides this affirmation and analysis: time conceived as linear suc-
cessivity, as “consecutivity.” This model works by itself and all through the Course, but
Saussure is seemingly less sure of it in the Anagrams. At any rate, its value seems problematic
to him and an interesting paragraph elab-orates a question left suspended:
That the elements forming a word follow one another is a truth that it would be better for
linguistics not to consider uninteresting because evident, but rather as the truth which gives in
advance the central principle of all useful reflections on words. In a domain as infinitely
special as the one I am about to enter, it is always by virtue of the fundamental law of the
human word in general that a question like that of consecutiveness or nonconsecutiveness
may be posed. 37
This linearist concept of time is therefore one of the deepest adherences of the modem
concept of the sign to its own history. For at the limit, it is indeed the concept of the sign
itself, and the distinction, however tenuous, between the signifying and signified faces, that
remain committed to the history of classical ontology. The parallelism and correspondence of
the faces or the planes change nothing. That this distinction, first appearing in Stoic logic, was
necessary for the coherence of a scholastic thematics dominated by infinitist theology, forbids
us to treat today’s debt to it as a
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contingency or a convenience. I suggested this at the outset, and perhaps the reasons are
clearer now. The
signatum always referred, as to its referent, to
a res, to an entity created or at
any rate first thought and spoken, thinkable and speakable, in the eternal present of the divine
logos and specifically in its breath. If it came to relate to the speech of a finite being (created
or not; in any case of an intracosmic entity) through the intermediary of a signans, the
signatum had an
immediate relationship with the divine logos which thought it within
presence and for which it was not a trace. And for modem linguistics, if the signifier is a trace,
the signified is a meaning thinkable in principle within the full presence of an intuitive
consciousness. The signfied face, to the extent that it is still originarily distinguished from the
signifying face, is not considered a trace; by rights, it has no need of the signifier to be what it
is. It is at the depth of this affirmation that the problem of relationships between linguistics
and semantics must be posed. This reference to the meaning of a signified think-able and
possible outside of all signifiers remains dependent upon the ontotheo-teleology that I have
just evoked. It is thus the idea of the sign that must be deconstructed through a meditation
upon writing which would merge, as it must, with the undoing [sollicitation] * of onto-
theology, faith-fully repeating it in its totality and making it insecure in its most assured
evidences.38 One is necessarily led to this from the moment that the trace affects the totality
of the sign in both its faces. That the signified is originarily and essentially (and not only for a
finite and created spirit) trace, that it is always already in the position of the signifier, is the
apparently innocent proposition within which the metaphysics of the logos, of presence and
consciousness, must reflect upon writing as its death and its resource.
xxx fotnote start xxx
•
Derrida comments on this Latinate use of “sollicitation” in “Force et signification,”
ED, p. 13.
xxx fotnote slutt xxx
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3. Of Grammatology as a Positive Science
On what conditions is a grammatology possible? Its fundamental condition is certainly the
undoing [sollicitation] of logocentrism. But this condition of possibility turns into a condition
of impossibility. In fact it risks destroying the concept of science as well. Graphematics or
grammatography ought no longer to be presented as sciences; their goal should be exorbitant
when compared to grammatological knowledge.
Without venturing up to that perilous necessity, and within the traditional norms of
scientificity upon which we fall back provisionally, let us repeat the question; on what
conditions is grammatology possible?
On the condition of knowing what writing is and how the plurivocity of this concept is
formed. Where does writing begin? When does writing begin? Where and when does the
trace, writing in general, common root of speech and writing, narrow itself down into
“writing” in the colloquial sense? Where and when does one pass from one writing to another,
from writing in general to writing in the narrow sense, from the trace to the graphie, from one
graphic system to another, and, in the field of a graphic code, from one graphic discourse to
another, etc.?
Where and how does it begin . . . ? A question of origin. But a meditation upon the trace
should undoubtedly teach us that there is no origin, that is to say simple origin; that the
questions of origin carry with them a metaphysics of presence. Without venturing here up to
that perilous necessity, continuing to ask questions of origin, we must recognize its two levels.
“Where” and “when” may open empirical questions: what, within history and within the
world, are the places and the determined moments of the first phenomena of writing? These
questions the investigation and research of facts must answer; history in the colloquial sense,