.. , questions of typology retained a speculative, pre-scientific character for a long time. While
genetic grouping of languages made amazing progress, the time was not yet ripe for their
typological classification. (op. cit. p. 69) *
A systematic critique of the concepts used by historians of writing can seriously blame the
rigidity or the insufficient differentiation of a theoretical apparatus only if it first locates the
false evidence that guides the work. Evidence all the more efficacious because it belongs to
the deepest, the oldest, and apparently the most natural, the least historical layer of our
conceptuality, that which best eludes criticism, and especially because it
xxx fotnote start xxx
•
English original, “Typological Studies .and Their Contribution to Historical Com-
parative Linguistics,”
Proceedings of the Eighth International Congress of Linguists (Oslo,
1958), p. 18.
xxx fotnote slutt xxx
((82))
supports that criticism, nourishes it, and
informs it; our historical ground itself.
In all histories or general typologies of writing may be encountered a concession analogous to
the one that made Father Berger, author, in France, of the first big Histoire de l’écriture dans
l’antiquité (1892), say: “Most often the facts do not conform to the distinctions which . . . are
only exact in theory” (p. XX). Yet, the issue was nothing less than the distinctions between
phonetic and ideographic, syllabic and alphabetic, scripts, between image and symbol, etc.
The same may be said of the instrumentalist and technicist concepts of writing, inspired by
the phonetic model which it does not conform to except through a teleological illusion, and
which the first contact with nonoccidental scripts ought to have demolished. This
instrumentalism is implicit everywhere. Nowhere is it as systematically formulated, with all
the attendant consequences, as by Marcel Cohen: Language being an “instrument,” writing is
the “extension to an instrument.” 26 The exteriority of writing to speech, of speech to thought,
of the signifier to the signified in general, could not be described better. There is much food
for thought in the matter of the price thus paid by a linguistics—or by a grammatology—
which, in this case, professes to be Marxist, to the metaphysical tradition. But the same tribute
may be identified everywhere: logocentric teleology (a pleonastic expression) ; opposition
between nature and institution; play of differences between symbol, sign, image, etc., a naive
concept of representation; an uncritical opposition between sensible and intelligible, between
soul and body; an objectivist concept of the body proper [corps pro pre] and of the diversity
of sensory functions (the “five senses” considered as so many apparatuses at the disposition of
the speaker or writer); opposition between analysis and syn-thesis, abstract and concrete,
which plays a decisive role in the classifications proposed by Février and Cohen and in the
debate that opposes them; a concept of the concept upon which the most classical philosophic
reflection has left little mark; a reference to consciousness and to the unconscious which
would necessarily invoke a more vigilant use of these notions and some consideration for
those studies that make these notions their theme; 27 a notion of the sign that philosophy,
linguistics, and semiology illuminate rarely and feebly. The competition between the history
of writing and the science of language is sometimes experienced in terms of hostility rather
than collaboration. Supposing, of course, that the competition is admitted. Thus, a propos of
the great distinction operated by Février between “synthetic writing” and “analytic writing,”
as also a propos of the “word” which plays for him a central role, the author notes: “The
problem is of the order of linguistics, we shall not deal with it here” (op. cit., p. 49).
Elsewhere, the noncommunication with linguistics is justified by Février in these terms :
((83))
[Mathematics] is a special language which no longer has any relationship with language, it is
a sort of universal language, that is to say we ascertain through mathematics that language—
vengeance upon linguists—is absolutely incapable of accommodating certain forms of
modern thought. And at present it is writ-ing, so badly misunderstood, that takes the place of
language, after having been its servant (EP, p. 349)
It can be shown that these presuppositions and all the oppositions thus accredited form a
system: we circulate from one to the other within the same structure.
Not only does the theory of writing need an intrascientific and epistemological liberation,
analogous to the one brought about by Fréret and Warburton, without touching the layers of
which we speak there. Now a reflection must clearly be undertaken, within which the
“positive” discovery and the “deconstruction” of the history of metaphysics, in all its
concepts, are controlled reciprocally, minutely, laboriously. Without this, any epistemological
liberation would risk being illusory or limited, proposing merely practical conveniences or
notional simplifications on bases that are un-touched by criticism. Such is undoubtedly the
limitation of the remarkable enterprise of I. J. Gelb (op. cit.); in spite of immense progress and
the project of erecting a grammatological scientificity and creating a unified system of simple,
supple, and manageable notions, in spite of the exclusion of inadequate concepts—such as of
the ideogram—most of the conceptual oppositions that I have just cited continue to function
there securely.
Through all the recent work in the area, one glimpses the future extensions of a grammatology
called upon to stop receiving its guiding concepts from other human sciences or, what nearly
always amounts to the same thing, from traditional metaphysics. A grammatology may be
surmised through the wealth and novelty of information, as well as through the treatment of
this information, even if, in these pioneering works, the conceptualization often falls short of a
bold and confident thrust.
What seems to announce itself now is, on the one hand, that grammatology must not be one of
the sciences of man and, on the other hand, that it must not be just one regional science
among others.
It ought not to be one of the sciences of man, because it asks first, as its characteristic
question, the question of the name of man. To free unity from the concept of man is
undoubtedly to renounce the old notion of peoples said to be “without writing” and “without
history.” André Leroi-Gourhan shows it well; to refuse the name of man and the ability to
write beyond its own proper community, is one and the same gesture. Actually, the peoples
said to be “without writing” lack only a certain type of writing. To refuse the name of writing
to this or that technique of consignment is the “ethnocentrism that best defines the
prescientific vision of man” and at the same time results in the fact that “in many human
groups, the