that
in antiquity speech in China had not the same efficaciousness as writing, but it was
possible for its power to have been partly eclipsed by writing. On the contrary, in civilizations
where writing evolved toward syllabification and the alphabet early enough, it is the word
which concentrated in itself, definitively, all the powers of religious and magical creation.
And in fact it is remarkable that in China this strange valorization of speech, word, syllable, or
vowel, attested in all great ancient civilizations from the Mediterranean basin to India, is not
encountered. 43
It is difficult not to subscribe to this analysis globally. Let us note, how-ever, that it seems to
consider “the phonetic analysis of language” and phonetic writing as a normal “outcome,” as
an historical telos within sight of which, like a ship steering to port, Chinese script had to an
extent run aground. Can it be thought that the system of Chinese script is thus a sort of
unfulfilled alphabet? On the other hand, Gernet seems to explain the “primitive prestige” of
Chinese graphism by its “symbolic” relationship with a “reality singular and unique like
itself.” Is it not evident that no signifier, whatever its substance and form, has a “unique and
singular reality?” A signifier is from the very beginning the possibility of its own repetition, of
its own image or resemblance. It is the condition of its ideality, what identifies it as signifier,
and makes it function as such, relating it to a signified which, for the same reasons, could
never be a “unique and singular reality.” From the moment that the sign appears, that is to say
from the very beginning, there is no chance of encountering anywhere the purity of “reality,”
“unicity,” “singularity.” So by what right can it be supposed that speech could have had, “in
antiquity,” before the birth of Chinese writing, the sense and value that we know in the West?
Why would speech in China have had to be “eclipsed” by writing? If one wishes really to
penetrate to the thing that, under the name of writing, separates much more than techniques of
notation, should one not get rid, among other ethnocentric presuppositions, also of a sort of
graphic monogenetism that transforms all differences into divergences or delays, accidents or
deviations? And examine this heliocentric concept of speech? As well as the resemblance of
the logos to the sun (to the good or to the death that one cannot look at face to face), to the
king or to the father (the good or the intelligible sun are compared to the father in the
Republic, 5o8 c)? What must writing be in order to threaten this analogical system in its
vulnerable and secret center? What must it be in order to signify the eclipse of what is
((92))
good and of the father? Should one not stop considering writing as the eclipse that comes to
surprise and obscure the glory of the word? And if there is some necessity of eclipse, the
relationship of shadow and light, of writing and speech, should it not itself appear in a
different way?
In a different way: the necessary decentering cannot be a philosophic or scientific act as such,
since it is a question of dislocating, through access to another system linking speech and
writing, the founding categories of language and the grammar of the e pistémè. The natural
tendency of theory—of what unites philosophy and science in the epistémè—will push rather
toward filling in the breach than toward forcing the closure. It was normal that the
breakthrough was more secure and more penetrating on the side of literature and poetic
writing: normal also that it, like Nietzsche, at first destroyed and caused to vacillate the
transcendental authority and dominant category of the epistémè: being. This is the meaning of
the work of Fenellosa 44 whose influence upon Ezra Pound and his poetics is well-known:
this irreducibly graphic poetics was, with that of Mallarmé, the first break in the most
entrenched Western tradition. The fascination that the Chinese ideogram exercised on Pound’s
writing may thus be given all its historical significance.
Ever since phoneticization has allowed itself to be questioned in its origin, its history and its
adventures, its movement is seen to mingle with that of science, religion, politics, economy,
technics, law, art. The origins of these movements and these historical regions dissociate
them-selves, as they must for the rigorous delimitation of each science, only by an abstraction
that one must constantly be aware of and use with vigilance. This complicity of origins may
be called arche-writing. What is lost in that complicity is therefore the myth of the simplicity
of origin. This myth is linked to the very concept of origin; to speech reciting the origin, to the
myth of the origin and not only to myths of origin.
The fact that access to the written sign assures the sacred power of keep-ing existence
operative within the trace and of knowing the general structure of the universe; that all
clergies, exercising political power or not, were constituted at the same time as writing and by
the disposition of graphic power; that strategy, ballistics, diplomacy, agriculture, fiscality, and
penal law are linked in their history and in their structure to the constitution of writing; that
the origin assigned to writing had been—according to the chains and mythemes—always
analogous in the most diverse cultures and that it communicated in a complex but regulated
manner with the distribution of political power as with familial structure; that the possibility
of capitalization and of politico-administrative organization had always passed through the
hands of scribes who laid down the terms of many wars and whose function was always
irreducible, whoever the contending parties might be; that through discrepancies, inequalities
of development, the play
((93))
of permanencies, of delays, of diffusions, etc., the solidarity among ideologi-cal, religious,
scientific-technical systems, and the systems of writing which were therefore more and other
than “means of communication” or vehicles of the signified, remains indestructible; that the
very sense of power and effectiveness in general, which could appear as such, as meaning and
mas-tery (by idealization), only with so-called “symbolic” power, was always linked with the
disposition of writing; that economy, monetary or pre-monetary, and graphic calculation were
co-originary, that there could be no law without the possibility of trace (if not, as H. Lévy-
Bruhl shows, of notation in the narrow sense), all this refers to a common and radical possi-
bility that no determined science, no abstract discipline, can think as such. 45
Indeed, one must understand this incompetence of science which is also the incompetence of
philosophy, the closure of the epistémè. Above all it does not invoke a return to a prescientific
or infra-philosophic form of dis-course. Quite the contrary. This common root, which is not a
root but the concealment of the origin and which is not common because it does not amount to
the same thing except with the unmonotonous insistence of difference, this unnameable
movement of difference-itself, that I have strategically nicknamed trace, reserve, or
differance, could be called writing only within the
historical closure, that is to say within the
limits of science and philosophy.
The constitution of a science or a philosophy of writing is a necessary and difficult task. But,
a thought of the trace, of differance or of reserve, having arrived at these limits and repeating
them ceaselessly, must also point beyond the field of the epistémè. Outside of the economic
and strategic reference to the name that Heidegger justifies himself in giving to an analogous