an unconscious thought seeking to convey [translate] itself
[nach Ubersetzung] into the
preconscious so as to be able to force its way through into consciousness . . . is not the
forming of a second thought situated in a new place, like a transcription that continues to exist
alongside the original; and the notion of forcing a way through into consciousness must be
kept carefully free from any idea of a change of locality. . . . What we are doing here is once
again to replace a topological way of representing things by a dynamic one. . . . Nevertheless,
I consider it expedient and justifiable to continue to make use of the figurative image of the
two systems. (GW II–III. 614–15, SE V. 6io–ii)
Some fifteen years later, writing on the Unconscious, Freud assures us: “Study of the
derivatives of the Ucs. will completely disappoint our expectations of a schematically clear-
cut distinction between the two psychical systems.” (GW X. 289, SE XIV. 190)
((xlii))
And yet the topographical fable continues to be used, to my mind precisely because it is a
graphically representable one—a “structure” in that orthodox sense. Freud has dismantled the
sovereignty of the self; his topographical description allows him to suggest the production of
that self in the structuring of the text of the psyche. Derrida will say: “It is only necessary to
reconsider the problem of the effect of subjectivity as it is produced by the structure of the
text.” (Pos F 122, Pos E 45)
“I propose that when we have succeeded in describing a psychical process in its dynamic,
topographical and economic aspects,” Freud writes, “we should speak of it as a
metapsychological presentation.” (GW X. 281,
SE XIV. 181) The notion of an “economic”
presentation of a mental process is pertinent to a reading of Derrida.
Economy is a metaphor of energy—where two opposed forces playing against each other
constitute the so-called identity of a phenomenon. In Freud’s “metapsychological
presentations,” the economic line of approach comes to modify the topographic and dynamic
ones, although, as I sug-gest above, the other descriptions are never given up. “The ultimate
things which psychological research can learn about [are] the behavior of the two primal
instincts, their distribution, mingling and defusion—things which we cannot think of as being
confined to a single province of the mental apparatus, the id, the ego or the super-ego. . . .
Only by the con-current or mutually opposing action”—in other words, economy—“of the
two primal instincts—Eros and the death-instinct—, never by one or the other alone, can we
explain the rich multiplicity [many-coloredness; Buntheit] of the phenomena [appearances,
Erscheinungen] of life.” (GW XVI. 88–89,
SE XXIII, 242–43)
Economy is not a reconciliation of opposites, but rather a maintaining of disjunction. Identity
constituted by difference is economy. In Freud’s world, a train of thought is sustained by its
opposite, a unit of meaning contains the possibility of its opposite: “Each train of thought is
almost invariably accompanied by its contradictory counterpart, linked with it by antithetical
association.” (GW II–III, 316, SE IV. 312) Normality—an “ideal fiction” (GW XVI. 8o, SE
XXIII, 235)—and neurosis are ac-complices: “Psycho-analytic research finds no fundamental,
but only quantitative, distinctions between normal and neurotic life. . . . We must recognize
that the psychical mechanism employed by neuroses is not created by the impact of a
pathological disturbance upon the mind, but is present already in the normal structure of the
mental apparatus.” (GW II–III. 378, 613; SE V. 373, 607) Following a similar strategy, Freud
will argue, after carefully developing a contrast between the pleasure principle and the death
instinct: “The pleasure principle seems actually to serve the death instincts.” (GW XIII. 69,
SE XVIII. 63) The exposition of the death instinct itself is made in terms of a bold economy
of life and inertia:
((xliii))
“The inertia inherent in organic life.” (GW XIII. 38, SE XVIII. 36) We are not surprised when
Freud proposes an economy of the body and the mind: “. . . the activity of thinking is also
supplied from the sublimation of erotic motive forces.” (GW XIII. 274, SE XIX. 45) Not only
are we within the ambiance of that undoing-preserving of opposites that Derrida finds
congenial also in Nietzsche; this last passage in fact advances what Nietzsche calls the “new
psychology” as he points at the need for combining “philology” (the genealogy of language)
and “physiology” (the field of the erotic).
I have cited above the Freudian argument that the establishment of permanent traces in the
psychic apparatus precludes the possibility of immediate perception. Relating this delaying
mechanism to the economy of opposites, Derrida writes: “Following a schema that
continually guides Freud’s thinking, the movement of the trace is described as an effort of life
to protect itself by deferring the dangerous investment, by constituting a reserve (Vorrat). And
all the conceptual oppositions that furrow Freudian thought relate each concept to the other
like movements of a detour, within the economy of differance. The one is only the other
deferred, the one differing from the other.” (MP 19-20, SP 150)
This passage is taken from the essay “La différance.” It emphasizes the presence of Freud in
the articulation of what comes close to becoming Derrida’s master-concept—“differance”
spelled with an “a.” Let us fasten on three moments in the quotation—“differing,”
“deferring,” and “detour.” I have spoken of the radically other, which is always different,
nonidentical. Add to this the structure of the perennial postponement of that which is
constituted only through postponement. The two together—“difference” and “deferment”—
both senses present in the French verb “différer,” and both “properties” of the sign under
erasure—Derrida calls “différance.” This differance—being the structure (a structure never
quite there, never by us perceived, itself deferred and different) of our psyche—is also the
structure of “presence,” a term itself under erasure. For differance, producing the differential
structure of our hold on “presence,” never produces presence as such.
The structure of “presence” is thus constituted by difference and de-ferment. But since the
“subject” that “perceives” presence is also constituted similarly, differance is neither active
nor passive. The “-ance” ending is the mark, of that suspended status. Since the difference
between “difference” and “differance” is inaudible, this “neographism” reminds us of the
importance of writing as a structure. The “a” serves to remind us that, even within the graphic
structure, the perfectly spelled word is always absent, constituted through an endless series of
spelling mistakes.
In “La différance,” Derrida relates the thought of differance to Nietzsche, Freud, and
Heidegger. But he seems most moved by the Freudian break-
((xliv))
through. The disjunction between perception and the permanent trace seems to make thought
itself a differance of perception. The complicity between the organism and the inertia of the