In his perspicuous review of
the volume Repeating Žižek,
dedicated to my work, Jamil Khader notes how some contributors interrogate
“Žižek’s credentials as
a philosopher, especially in relation to Badiou’s critique of Lacan’s
anti-philosophical position. Hamza points out, in fact, that philosophers
who are Žižekian are always reminded that compared to Žižek, ‘it is not
a difficult task to be a follower of Badiou, or a Badiousian
in philosophy, due to his very-well-structured system.’ To this extent, Noys
cautiously reiterates Badiou’s claim that Žižek is ‘not exactly in the field
of philosophy,’ only to propose that Žižek is a ‘reader of philosophy,’
someone who offers not a philosophy but a method. Bruno Bosteels
makes this case against a Žižekian philosophy more forcefully. He claims
that after his international career took off, Žižek has been struggling very
hard to disassociate himself from the field of cultural studies, in
which his work was initially received and ‘misrecognized,’ and to reclaim
his name as a philosopher. Bosteels writes: ‘Thus, whereas Badiou after
the completion of Being and Event
speaks from within the bastion of a classically or neoclassically
styled philosophy, waving the banner of Platonism with sufficient
self-confidence to accept the challenge of an antiphilosopher such as
Lacan, Žižek is still at pains to downplay the late Lacan’s antiphilosophical
provocations for the sake of gaining respectability as a philosopher.’
For Bosteels, this seems to offer a seamless explanation of Žižek’s
‘proverbial nervousness.’ His tics simply betray an anxiety about being
excluded from prestigious institutional apparatuses and departments of
philosophy, whether in Slovenia, Britain or France. As such, he performs
the role of the hysteric to the master’s discourse of a stoically
unfazed Badiou.”
I find these critiques of my
work problematic on more than one count, even if I discount the – to
put it mildly – very problematic “grounding” of my bodily tics (incidentally,
the result of an organic disease for which I am taking medicines!) in
my anxiety about being excluded from academic apparatuses and not recognized
as a “serious” philosopher. (Can one even imagine the Politically Correct
outcry if another thinker – who is, say, a lesbian feminist – were to
be “analyzed” at such a level?)
First, I DO propose
a kind of “ontology”: my work is not just a deconstructive reflection
on the inconsistencies of other philosophies, it DOES outline a certain
“structure of reality.” Or, to put it in brutally-simplified Kantian
terms: the last horizon of my work is not the multiple narrative of cognitive
failures against the background of the inaccessible Real. The move “beyond
the transcendental” is outlined in the first part of my Absolute Recoil
where I deploy in detail the basic dialectical move, that of the
reversal of epistemological obstacle into ontological impossibility
that characterizes the Thing itself: the very failure of my effort to grasp
the Thing has to be (re)conceived as a feature of the Thing, as an
impossibility inscribed into the very heart of the Real. (Another move in
this direction is my elaboration of the quasi-ontology of “less than nothing”
in my reading of the ontological implications of quantum physics.)
But the heart of the problem
lies elsewhere: in the application on philosophy of the opposition
between the Master and the Hysteric – to cut a long story short, if we
identify true philosophy with a stoically unfazed master’s discourse,
then philosophers like Kant and Hegel are no longer philosophers. After
Kant, “classically or neoclassically styled philosophy,” i.e., philosophy
as a “world view,” as a great rendering of the basic structure of
entire reality, is simply no longer possible. With Kant’s critical turn,
thinking is “not exactly in the field of philosophy,” it offers “not
a philosophy but a method”: philosophy turns self-reflexive,
a discourse examining its own conditions of possibility – or,
more precisely, of its own impossibility. Metaphysics (the description of
the hierarchic rational structure of the universe) gets necessarily caught
in antinomies, illusions are unavoidably needed to fill in the gaps in the
structure – in short, with Kant, philosophy is no longer a Master’s discourse,
its entire edifice gets traversed by a bar of immanent impossibility,
failure, and inconsistency. With Hegel, things go even further: far from
returning to pre-critical rational metaphysics (as Kantians accuse it),
the whole of Hegelian dialectics is a kind of hysterical undermining
of the Master (the reason Lacan called Hegel “the most sublime of all hysterics”),
the immanent self-destruction and self-overcoming of every metaphysical
claim. In short, Hegel’s “system” is nothing but a systematic tour
through the failures of philosophical projects. In this sense, all of German
Idealism is an exercise in “anti-philosophy”: already Kant’s critical
thought is not directly philosophy but a prolegomena to future philosophy,
a questioning of the conditions of (im)possibility of philosophy;
Fichte no longer calls his thinking philosophy but Wissenschaftslehre (“the
teaching on scientific knowledge”); and Hegel claims his thought is no
longer a mere philo-sophy (love of wisdom) but true wisdom (knowledge)
itself. This is why Hegel is “the most sublime of all hysterics”: one should
bear in mind that, for Lacan, only hysteria produces new knowledge (in contrast
to university discourse which just reproduces it).
— In his two great manuscripts
published posthumously, Initiation
a la philosophie pour les non-philosophes (1976) and Etre marxiste en philosophie
(1978), Althusser (among other things) outlines a specific theory of
philosophy which overlaps neither with his early “theoreticist” concept
of philosophy as “Theory of theoretical practice” nor with his later
notion of philosophy as “class struggle in theory”; while closer to the
second notion, it serves as a kind of mediator between the two.
Althusser’s starting point is the omni-presence of ideology, of ideological
abstractions which always structure our approach to everyday life and reality;
this ideology has two level, the “spontaneous” everyday texture of implicit
meanings and the organized religion or mythology which organized
a systematic system of these meanings. Then, in Ancient Greece, something
new and unexpected happened: the rise of science in the guise of mathematics.
Mathematics deals with pure abstract numbers deprived of all mythic reference,
it is a game of axioms and rule in which no cosmic meaning resonates,
there are no sacred, lucky or damned numbers. Precisely as such, mathematics
is subversive, it threatens the homogeneity of the universe of cosmic
meaning, its homogeneity and stability. A weird incident that
happened on a departing AA flight from Philadelphia to Syracuse on May
7 2016 indicates that this fear of mathematics persists even today.
An economics professor was solving a differential equation on
a piece of paper, and a lady passenger seating at his side thought
he might be a terrorist because of what he was writing, so she passed
a note to a flight-attendant, claiming that she is too ill to take
the flight. The plane returned to the gate, the lady was taken from the plane
and voiced her suspicion to the ground personnel; security members then
took off the plane the economics professor and questioned him…
The true break happens here,
not between mythic ideology and philosophy but between the mythic universe
and science – and the function of philosophy is precisely to contain this
threat. Formally, philosophy also breaks with the mythic universe and obeys
the rules of science (rational argumentation, thinking in abstract conceptual
terms, etc.), but its function is to re-inscribe scientific procedure
into the religious universe of cosmic meaning. To put it in mockingly-Hegelian
terms, if science is a negation of religion, philosophy is a negation
of negation, i.e., it endeavors to re-assert religious meaning within the
space (and with the means of) rational argumentation: “All of Plato – the
theory of ideas, the opposition of knowledge and opinion, and so on – is
based on the break that the first science’ represents. In a sense, this
is because all of Plato is an attempt to control and in a way to ‘sublate’
this break, in a profoundly inventive but also profoundly reactive dialectic.
Philosophy, in its idealist Platonist matrix, is thus a reactive
invention: the displacement of (the ideological functions of) religion
onto the plane of pure (abstract) rationality. It draws from these sciences
its ‘form, the abstraction of its categories, and the demonstrativeness
of its reasoning,’ as a pure reasoning directly carried out on
‘abstract’ objects, but its function is an ideological one, a mandate
and a service delegated, explicitly or otherwise, by the dominant
class.” [1]
Here is the link with
Althusser’s second definition of philosophy as class struggle in theory:
this pressure to contain the scientific threat, to re-assert the all-encompassing
religious world-view, is not grounded in some kind of disembodied tendency
for meaningful totalization of our experience but is a pressure
exerted as part of the class struggle in order to guarantee the hegemony of
the ruling class ideology. All great philosophers after Plato repeat this
gesture of containment, from Descartes (who limits the domain of science
to material world) and Kant (who limits the domain of science to phenomenal
world in order to open up the space for religion and ethics) to today’s
neo-Kantian theorists of communication who exempt communication from
scientific rationality. Against this predominant idealist form of
philosophy (Plato –Aristotle – Acquinas – Descartes – Kant – Hegel…),
Althusser asserts the subterranean tradition of materialist counter-philosophy
from early Greek materialist and Epicureans (who assert the material
world of contingent encounters) through Spinoza and even Heidegger. Isn’t
one of the great episodes in this struggle Cantor’s profoundly materialist
re-conceptualization of the infinite? His basic premise is the multiplicity
of infinities which cannot be totalized into an all-encompassing One. The
great materialist breakthrough of Cantor concerns the status of infinite
numbers (and it is precisely because this breakthrough was materialist
that it caused so many psychic traumas to Cantor, a devout Catholic):
prior to Cantor, the Infinite was linked to the One, the conceptual form of
God in religion and metaphysics, while with Cantor, the Infinite enters
the domain of the Multiple – it implies the actual existence of infinite
multiplicities, as well as the infinite number of different infinities.
But is Platonism really
a reaction to the subversive abstraction of mathematical science?
Is it not also (or mainly) a reaction to other tendencies like sophist
philosophers or pre-Platonic materialism? Moreover, did the ideological
recuperation of mathematics not began prior to Plato, with Pythagoreans
who imbued numbers with cosmic meaning? It is worth mentioning here the
continuous dialogue between Alain Badiou and Barbara Cassin which can be
best characterized as the new version of the ancient dialogue between
Plato and the sophists: the Platonist Badiou against Cassin’s insistence on
the irreductibility of the sophists’ rupture. From the strict Hegelian
standpoint, Cassin is right against Badiou in her insistence on the irreducible
character of the sophist’s position: the self-referential play of the
symbolic process has no external support which would allow us to draw
a line, within the language games, between truth and falsity. Sophists
are the irreducible “vanishing mediators” between mythos and logos, between the traditional
mythic universe and philosophical rationality and, as such, a permanent
threat to philosophy – why? They broke down the mythic unity of words and
things, playfully asserting the gap that separates words from things; and
philosophy proper can only be understood as a reaction to the sophists,
as an attempt to close the gap opened up by the sophists, to provide
a foundation of truth for words, to return to mythos in the new conditions
of rationality. This is where one should locate Plato: he first tried to
provide this foundation by his teaching on ideas, and when, in Parmenides, he was forced to admit the fragility
of this foundation, he engaged in a long struggle to re-assert
a clear line of separation between sophistics and truth. (The opposition
between sophists and Plato is also connoted by the opposition between democracy
and corporate organic order: sophists are clearly democratic, teaching the
art of seducing and convincing the crowd, while Plato outlines a hierarchic
corporate order in which every individual is at his/her proper place, allowing
for no position of singular universality.) The irony of the history of
philosophy is that the line of philosophers who struggle against the sophists’
temptation finishes with Hegel, the “last philosopher” who, in a way,
is also the ultimate sophist, asserting self-referential play with no
external support of its truth: for Hegel, there is truth, but it is immanent
to the symbolic process – the truth is measured not by an external standard,
but by the “pragmatic contradiction,” the inner (in)consistency of the discursive
process, by the gap between the enunciated content and its position of
enunciation.
Is the way Althusser relates
to philosophy not one of the clearest cases of the gap that separates the
position of enunciation from the enunciated (content)? At the level of
the enunciated content, he is all modesty: he strongly opposes the idealist
philosophical pretension to grasp the structure of the entire universe,
to “know it all,” to render the absolute truth (or the truth of the Absolute).
Against this idealist pretension, he praises accepting limits, openness
to contingent encounters, etc., which characterize the materialist
undercurrent from Epicurus through Spinoza up to Heidegger (although one
might add here that it is difficult to imagine a more “arrogant” philosopher
than Spinoza whose Ethics
claims to render the inner working of God-Nature – if nothing else, it can be
shown that Spinoza is here much more “arrogant” than Hegel…).
“Idealist philosophers
speak for everyone and in everyone’s stead. They think, in fact, that they are
in possession of the Truth about everything. Materialist philosophers
are much less talkative: they know how to shut up and listen to people. They
do not think that they are privy to the Truth about everything. They know that
they can become philosophers only gradually, modestly, and that their philosophy
will come to them from outside.
So they shut up and listen.” [2]
However, what Althusser
effectively does when talking about philosophy, his “process of enunciation,”
his approach to philosophy, we can easily discern in it the exact opposite
of what he characterizes as a materialist approach: brutally simplified
universal statements which pretend to define the universal key features
of philosophy, with no modest provisos. Philosophy as such is class
struggle in theory, the eternal battle of two lines, “idealist” and “materialist”;
it functions as an empty repetition of the line of demarcation
idealism/materialism which produces nothing new; etc. etc. In short,
Althusser acts as a supreme Judge imposing his Measure onto the wealth
of philosophies. No wonder, then, that Althusser is so adamantly anti-Hegelian:
Althusser’s opposite is here Hegel whose enunciated (content) may
appear “arrogant” (“absolute Knowing,” etc.), but whose actual approach is
much more radically “modest,” “deconstructing” every pretense to directly
reach the Absolute, demonstrating how each of such claims fails due to its
immanent inconsistencies. The extreme case of this Althusser’s “arrogance”
is his treatment of digitalization/computerization of our lives which he brutally
reduces to technocratic idealism: when bourgeoisie loses its ability to
generate idealist philosophical systems that guarantee the hegemony of
its ideology, it begins to rely on the apparently non-ideological “automatism
of computers and technocrats,” to the “neutral” expert knowledge to which
our lives should be entrusted:
“In a time in which the bourgeoisie
has even given up on producing its eternal philosophical systems, on the
prospects and guarantees that ideas can provide it with, and in which it has
entrusted its destiny to the automatism of computers and technocrats; in
a time in which it is incapable of proposing a viable, conceivable
future to the world, the proletariat can rise to the challenge; it can
breathe new life into philosophy and, in order to liberate men and women
from class domination, make it ‘an arm for the revolution’.” 3“In
a time in which the bourgeoisie has even given up on producing its
eternal philosophical systems, on the prospects and guarantees that ideas
can provide it with, and in which it has entrusted its destiny to the automatism
of computers and technocrats; in a time in which it is incapable of
proposing a viable, conceivable future to the world, the proletariat
can rise to the challenge; it can breathe new life into philosophy and, in
order to liberate men and women from class domination, make it ‘an arm for
the revolution’.” [3]
Sounds nice, although
a bit naïve: today, when science seems fully incorporated into capitalism,
the standard situation in which the task of philosophy is to contain the
subversive potential of sciences seems almost inverted, so that philosophy
itself becomes a tool against technocratic domination… However, the
very conjunction “computers and technocrats” should immediately make us
suspicious: as if the two are synonymous, as if there is no potential tension
between the two, as if (as it should be abundantly clear from today’s ferocious
struggles for the control of cyberspace) cyberspace is not one of the privileged
terrains of class struggle today when state apparatuses and corporations
desperately try to contain the monster they themselves helped to unleash:
“Althusser misunderstands the nature and transformative potential – the
proletarization, perhaps – of computation and computer science. In
so doing he appears ignorant of the strength of the scientific tools for
rethinking and resisting technocratic rule.” [4]
In ignoring all these ambiguities and tensions, in brutally imposing
a simple universal scheme, it is Althusser who acts like the worst
idealist philosopher – consequently, it is Althusser who should have followed
his materialist formula and “shut up and listen.”
— Lacan begins the eleventh
week of his seminar Les non-dupes errent
(1973-4) with a straight question directed back at himself: “what was
it that Lacan, who is here present, invented?” He answers the question “like
that, to get things going: objet
a.” So it’s not “desire is the desire of the Other,” “the unconscious
is structured like a language,” “there is no sexual relationship,” or
another from the list of usual suspects: Lacan immediately emphasizes that
his choice is not just one among the possible ones but THE choice. Objet a has a long history
in Lacan’s teaching, it precedes for decades Lacan’s systematic references
to the analysis of commodities in Marx’s Capital. But
it is undoubtedly this reference to Marx, especially to Marx’s notion of surplus-value
/Mehrwert/, that
enabled Lacan to deploy his “mature” notion of objet a as surplus-enjoyment
(plus-de-jouir, Mehrlust): the predominant
motif which permeates all Lacan’s references to Marx’s analysis of commodities
is the structural homology between Marx’s surplus-value and what Lacan’s baptized
surplus-enjoyment, the phenomenon called by Freud Lustgewinn, a “gain of
pleasure,” which does not designate a simple stepping up of pleasure
but the additional pleasure provided by the very formal detours in the
subject’s effort to attain pleasure. Think about Brecht’s Me-Ti which, in its retelling
of the history of revolutionary movements in Europe, transposes them into
an imaginary China (Trotsky becomes To-tsi, etc.): our re-translation of
pseudo-Chinese names back into their European original (“Aha, To-tsi is Trotsky!”)
makes the text much more pleasurable – just imagine how much Me-Ti would have lost if it
were to be written as a direct report on European history. Or – the
most elementary example – how much a process of seduction gains with
its intricate innuendos, false denials, etc.: these detours are not just
cultural complications or sublimations circulating around some hardcore
Real – this hardcore Real is retroactively constituted through secondary
detours, “in itself” it remains a fiction.
In the same way that, in libidinal
economy, there is no “pure” pleasure principle undisturbed by the perversities
of compulsion-to-repeat – perversities which cannot be accounted for in
the terms of the pleasure principle -, in the sphere of the exchange of commodities,
there is no direct closed circle of exchanging a commodity for money
in order to buy another commodity, a circle not yet corroded by the perverse
logic of buying and selling commodities in order to get more money, the
logic in which money is no longer just a mediator in the exchange of commodities
but becomes an end-in-itself. The only reality is the reality of spending
money in order to get more money, and what Marx calls C-M-C, the closed
exchange of a commodity for money in order to buy another commodity,
is ultimately a fiction whose function it is to provide a “natural”
foundation of the process of exchange (“It’s not just about money and more
money, the whole point of exchange is to satisfy concrete human needs!”). –
The basic libidinal mechanism here is that of what Freud called Lustgewinn, the “gain of
pleasure”. The process of the “gain-of-pleasure” operates through repetition:
one misses the goal and one repeats the movement, trying again and again, so
that the true aim is no longer the intended goal but the repetitive movement
of attempting to reach it itself. In can also put it in the terms of form and
content where “form” stands for the form, the mode, of approaching the
desired content: while the desired content (object) promises to provide
pleasure, a surplus-enjoyment is gained by the very form (procedure)
of pursuing the goal. Here is the classic example of how oral drive functions:
while the goal of sucking a breast is to get fed by milk, the libidinal
gain is provided by the repetitive movement of sucking which thus becomes
an end-in-itself. Is something similar not going on in a (dubious) story
about Robespierre often mentioned by the critics of Jacobinism? When one
of Robespierre’s allies was accused of acting in an illegitimate way, he
demanded (to the surprise of those close to him) that the charges be taken
seriously and proposed the immediate constitution of a special
commission to examine the allegations; when one of his friends expressed
his worry about the fate of the accused (what if he is found guilty? Will this
not be bad news for the Jacobins?), Robespierre calmly smiled back: “Don’t
worry about that, somehow we’ll save the accused… but now we have the commission!”
The commission which will remain at the disposal of the Jacobins to purge
their enemies – this was for Robespierre the true gain in what appeared as
a concession to the enemies. Another figure of Lustgewinn is the reversal
that characterizes hysteria: renunciation to pleasure reverts into pleasure
of/in renunciation, repression of desire reverts into desire of repression,
etc. In all these cases, gain occurs at a “performative” level: it is generated
by the very performance of working towards a goal, not by reaching
the goal.
We also encounter Mehrgenuss in the basic
paradox of the PC assertion of identity: the more marginal and excluded one
is, the more one is allowed to assert ethnic identity and exclusive way of
life. This is how the Politically Correct landscape is structured:
people far from the Western world are allowed to fully assert their particular
ethnic identity without being proclaimed essentialist racist identitarians
(native Americans, blacks…); the closer one gets to the notorious white heterosexual
males, the more problematic this assertion is: Asians are still OK, Italians
and Irish maybe, with Germans and Scandinavians it is already problematic…
However, such a prohibition of asserting the particular identity
of White Men (as the model of oppression of others), although it presents
itself as the admission of their guilt, nonetheless confers on them
a central position: this very prohibition to assert their particular
identity makes them into the universal-neutral medium, the place from which
the truth about the others’ oppression is accessible. This central position
is the Mehrgenuss,
the pleasure generated by the renunciation to identity. If we in the West
really want to overcome racism, the first thing to do is to leave behind this
Politically Correct process of endless self-culpabilization. Although
Pascal Bruckner’s critique of today’s Left often approaches the ridicule,
this doesn’t prevent him from occasionally generating pertinent
insights – one cannot but agree with him when he detects in the European Politically
Correct self-flagellation the inverted clinging to one’s superiority. Whenever
the West is attacked, its first reaction is not aggressive defence but
self-probing: what did we do to deserve it? We are ultimately to be blamed
for the evils of the world, the Third World catastrophes and terrorist violence
are merely reactions to our crimes… the positive form of the White Man’s
Burden (responsibility for civilizing the colonized barbarians) is
thus merely replaced by its negative form (the burden of white man’s guilt):
if we can no longer be the benevolent masters of the Third World, we can at
least be the privileged source of evil, patronizingly depriving them of
their responsibility for their fate (if a Third World country engages
in terrible crimes, it is never their full responsibility, but always an
after-effect of colonization: they merely imitate what the colonial masters
were doing, etc.). This privilege is the Mehrgenuss
earned by self-culpabilization.
One of the most deplorable
by-products of the wave of refugees that entered Europe in the Winter of
2015-16 was the explosion of moralist outrage among many Left liberals:
“Europe is betraying its legacy of universal freedom and solidarity! It
lost its moral compass! It treats war refugees like infested intruders, preventing
their entry with barbed wire, locking them up in concentration camps!” Such
abstract empathy, combined with calls to open up the borders unconditionally,
deserves the great Hegelian lesson of the Beautiful Soul: when someone is
painting a picture of Europe’s overall and utmost moral degeneration,
the question to be raised is in what way such a stance is complicit in
what it criticizes, in what way those who feel superior to the corrupted
world secretly participating in it. No wonder that, with the exception of
humanitarian appeals to compassion and solidarity, the effects of such
compassionate self-flagellation are null… But what if the authors of such
appeals knew very well that they contribute nothing to the terrible plight
of the refugees, that the ultimate effect of their interventions is just to
feed the anti-immigrant resentment? What if secretly they know very well that
what they demand will never happen since it would trigger an instant populist
revolt in Europe? Why, then, are they doing it? There is only one consistent
answer: the true aim of their activity is not really to help the refugees but
the Lustgewinn
brought about by their accusations, the feeling of their own moral superiority
over others – the more refugees are rejected, the more anti-immigrant populism
grows, the more these Beautiful Souls feel vindicated: “You see, the horror
goes on, we are right!”…
More precisely, one has to distinguish
here between pleasure and enjoyment: what Lacan calls “enjoyment (jouissance)”
is a deadly excess over pleasure, its place is beyond the pleasure-principle.
In other words, the term plus-de-jouir (surplus- or excess-enjoyment) is
a pleonasm, since enjoyment is in itself excessive, in contrast to
pleasure which is by definition moderate, regulated by a proper
measure. We thus have two extremes: on the one hand the enlightened hedonist
who carefully calculates his pleasures to prolong his fun and avoid getting
hurt, on the other hand the jouisseur proper ready to consummate his very
existence in the deadly excess of enjoyment – or, in the terms of our society,
on the one hand the consumerist calculating his pleasures, well-protected
from all kinds of harassments and other health threats, on the other hand the
drug addict (or smoker or…) bent on self-destruction. Enjoyment is what
serves nothing, and the great effort of the contemporary hedonist-utilitarian
“permissive” society is to incorporate this un(ac)countable excess into the
field of (ac)counting. One should thus reject the common sense opinion according
to which in a hedonist-consumerist society we all enjoy: the basic
strategy of enlightened consumerist hedonism is on the contrary to deprive
enjoyment of its excessive dimension, of its disturbing surplus, of the
fact that it serves nothing. Enjoyment is tolerated, solicited even, but
on condition that it is healthy, that it doesn’t threaten our psychic or
biological stability: chocolate yes, but fat free, coke yes, but diet, coffee
yes, but without caffeine, beer yes, but without alcohol, mayonnaise yes,
but without cholesterol, sex yes, but safe sex… We are here in the domain of
what Lacan calls the discourse of University, as opposed to the discourse
of the Master: a Master goes to the end in his consummation, he is
not constrained by petty utilitarian considerations (which is why there
is a certain formal homology between the traditional aristocratic
master and a drug-addict focused on his deadly enjoyment), while the
consumerist’s pleasures are regulated by scientific knowledge propagated
by the university discourse. The decaffeinated enjoyment we thus obtain
is a semblance of enjoyment, not its Real, and it is in this sense that
Lacan talks about the imitation of enjoyment in the discourse of University.
The prototype of this discourse is the multiplicity of reports in popular
magazines which advocate sex as good for health: sexual act works like jogging,
strengthens the heart, relaxes our tensions, even kissing is good for our
health.
Now we can see clearly the
link between Lustgewinn
and surplus-value: with Lustgewinn,
the aim of the process is not its official goal (satisfaction of
a need), but the expanded self-reproduction of the process itself –
say, the true aim of sucking the mother’s breast is not to get fed by milk but
the pleasure brought by the activity of sucking itself – and in an exactly
homologous way, with surplus-value, the true aim of the process of exchange
is not the appropriation of a commodity that would satisfy
a need of mine but the expanded self-reproduction of the capital
itself.
— For Lacan, modern science
is defined by two concomitant foreclosures: the foreclosure of subject
and the foreclosure of truth as cause. A scientific text is enounced
from a de-subjectivized “empty” location, it allows for no references
to its subject of enunciation, it is supposed to deliver the impersonal
truth which can be repeatedly demonstrated, “anyone can see and say it,”
i.e., the truth should be in no way affected by its place of enunciation. We
can already see the link with the Cartesian cogito:
is the “empty” enunciator of scientific statements not the subject of
thought reduced to a vanishing punctuality, deprived of all its properties?
This same feature also accounts for the foreclosure of truth as cause: when
I commit a slip of the tongue and say something other than what
I wanted to say, and this other message tells the truth about me that
I am often not ready to recognize, then one can also say that in my slips
the truth itself spoke, subverting what I wanted to say. There is truth
(a truth about my desire) in such slips even if they contain factual inexactitude
— say, an extremely simple example, when the moderator of a debate,
instead of saying “I am thereby opening the session!” says “I am thereby
closing the session!” he obviously indicates that he is bored and considers
the debate worthless… “Truth” (of my subjective position) is the cause of
such slips; when it operates, the subject is directly inscribed into its
speech, disturbing the smooth flow of “objective” knowledge.
How, then, can Lacan claim
that the subject of psychoanalysis – the divided subject, the subject traversed
by negativity – is the subject of modern science (and the Cartesian cogito)? Is it not that, by
way of foreclosing truth and subject, modern science also ignores negativity?
Is science not a radical attempt to construct a (literally) truthless
discourse of knowledge? Modern science breaks with the traditional universe
held together by a deeper meaning (like a harmony of cosmic principles
– yin-yang, etc.), a universe which forms a teleologically-ordered
Whole of a multiplicity of hierarchically ordered spheres,
a Whole in which everything serves a higher purpose. In philosophical
tradition, the big vestige of the traditional view is Aristotle: the Aristotelian
Reason is organic-teleological, in clear contrast to the radical contingency
of modern science. No wonder today’s Catholic Church attacks Darwinism as
“irrational” on behalf of the Aristotelian notion of Reason: the “reason” of
which Church speaks is a Reason for which Darwin’s theory of evolution
(and, ultimately, modern science itself, for which the assertion of the contingency
of the universe, the break with the Aristotelian teleology, is a constitutive
axiom) is “irrational.” universe as a harmonious Whole in which
everything serves a higher purpose.
Freud’s arch-opponent Jung is
on the side of this traditional universe: his approach to psychic phenomena
is effectively that of “depth-psychology,” his vision is the one of
a closed world sustained by deeper archetypal meanings, a world permeated
by spiritual forces which operate at a level “deeper” than that of “mechanical”
sciences, a level at which there are no contingencies, where ordinary
occurrences partake in a profound spiritual meaning to be unearthed
by self-exploration – life has a spiritual purpose beyond material
goals, and our task is to discover and fulfill our deep innate potential by
way of engaging in a journey of inner transformation which brings us
in contact with the mystical heart of all religions, a journey to meet
the self and at the same time to meet the divine. Rejecting (what he perceived
as) Freud’s scientific objectivism, Jung thus advocates a version
of pantheism which identifies individual human life with the universe as a whole.
In clear contrast to Jung,
Freud emphasizes the lack of any harmony between a human being and its
environs, any correspondence between human microcosm and natural macrocosm,
accepting without any reserve the fact of a contingent meaningless
universe. Therein resides Freud’s achievement: psychoanalysis is not
a return to a new kind of premodern hermeneutics in search of
the unknown deep layers of meaning which regulate the apparently meaningless
flow of our lives, it is not a new version of the ancient interpretation
of dreams searching for deeper messages hidden in them; our psychic life is
thoroughly open to unexpected traumatic encounters, its unconscious processes
are a domain of contingent signifying displacements; there is no
inner truth in the core of our being, only a cobweb of proton pseudos, primordial
lies called “fundamental fantasies”; the task of psychoanalytic process
is not to reconcile ourselves with the fantasmatic core of our being but to
“traverse” it, to acquire a distance towards it… This brief description
makes it clear how psychoanalysis relates to modern science: it tries to
re/subjectivize the universe of science, to discern the contours of
a subject that fits modern science, a subject that fully participates
in the contingent and meaningless “grey world” of sciences.
— Although capitalism is
intimately linked to the rise of modern science, its ideologico-political
and economic organization (liberal egotist individuals pursuing their
interests, their messy interaction secretly regulated by the big Other of
the Market) signals a return to premodern universe… Was Kant’s goal
not to do exactly this? He wanted to elaborate an ethico-political edifice
that would be at the level of modern science? But did Kant effectively
achieve this, but his theoretical edifice was a compromise. Did he
not openly said that his goal is to limit knowledge in order to make space for
belief? And are Habermasians not doing the same when they exempt intersubjectivity
from the domain of objective science? Which, then, is the ethico-political
space that fits modern science, Kant’s or a new one to be invented (for
example, the one proposed by brain scientists like Patricia and Paul Churchland)?
What if the two are necessarily non-synchronous, i.e., what if modernity
itself needs
a pre-modern ethico-political foundation, what if it cannot stand on
its own, what if the fully actualized modernity is an exemplary ideological myth?
— Nature itself is today in
disorder, not because it overwhelms our cognitive capacities but primarily
because we are not able to master the effects of our own interventions into
its course – who knows what the ultimate consequences of our biogenetic
engineering or of global warming will be? The surprise comes from
ourselves, it concerns the opacity of how we ourselves fit into the picture:
the impenetrable stain in the picture is not some cosmic mystery like
a mysterious explosion of a supernova, the stain are we
ourselves, our collective activity. It is against this background that one
should understand Jacques-Alain Miller’s thesis: “Il y’a un grand desordre dans le reel.” [5]
“There is a great disorder in the real.” That’s how Miller characterizes
the way reality appears to us in our time in which we experience the full
impact of two fundamental agents, modern science and capitalism. Nature
as the real in which everything, from stars to the sun, always returns to its
proper place, as the realm of large reliable cycles and of stable laws regulating
them, is being replaced by a thoroughly contingent real, real outside
the Law, real that is permanently revolutionizing its own rules, real
that resists any inclusion into a totalized World (universe of meaning),
which is why Badiou characterized capitalism as the first world-less
civilization.
How should we react to this
constellation? Should we assume a defensive approach and search for
a new limit, a return to (or, rather, the invention of) some new balance?
This is what bioethics endeavors to do with regard to biotechnology, this
is why the two form a couple: biotechnology pursues new possibilities
of scientific interventions (genetic manipulations, cloning…), and
bioethics endeavors to impose moral limitations on what biotechnology
enables us to do. As such, bioethics is not immanent to scientific practice:
it intervenes into this practice from outside, imposing external morality
onto it. But is bioethics not precisely the betrayal of the ethics immanent
to scientific endeavor, the ethics of “do not compromise your scientific
desire, follow inexorably its path”? A new limit is also what the slogan
of the Porto Allegro protesters “a new world is possible” basically amounts
to, and even ecology offers itself at this point as the provider of
a new limit (“we cannot go further in our exploitation of nature,
nature will not tolerate it, it will collapse…”). Or should we follow the
above-mentioned opposite path (of Deleuze and Negri, among others) and posit
that capitalist disorder is still too much order, obeying the capitalist
law of the surplus-value appropriation, so that the task is not to limit it
but to push it beyond its limitation? In other words, should we risk here
also a paraphrase of Mao’s well-known motto: there is disorder in the
real, so the situation is excellent? Perhaps, the path to follow is this
one, although not in exactly the sense advocated by Deleuze and Negri in their
celebration of de-territorialization? Miller claims that the pure lawless
Real resists symbolic grasp, so that we should always be aware that our
attempts to conceptualize it are mere semblances, defensive elubrications
– but what if there is still an underlying order that generates this disorder,
a matrix that provides its coordinates? This is what also accounts for
the repetitive sameness of the capitalist dynamics: more than things
change, more everything remains the same. And this is also why the obverse of
the breath-taking capitalist dynamics is a clearly recognizable
order of hierarchic domination.
“This is something indicated
by Lacan’s examples to illustrate the return of the real in the same place.
His examples are the annual return of the seasons, the spectacle of the skies
and the heavenly bodies. You could say… based on examples from all antiquity:
Chinese rituals of course used mathematical calculations of the position
of the heavenly bodies, etc. You could say that in this epoch the real as
nature had the function of the Other of the Other, that is, that the real was
itself the guarantee of the symbolic order. The agitation, the rhetorical
agitation of the signifier in human speech was framed by a weft of signifiers
fixed like the heavenly bodies. Nature – this is its very definition – is
defined by being ordered, that is, by the conduct of the symbolic and the
real, to such an extent that according to the most ancient traditions all
human order should imitate natural order. /…/
The real invented by Lacan is
not the real of science, it is a contingent real, random, in as much
as the natural law of the relation between the sexes is lacking. It is
a hole in the knowledge included in the real. Lacan made use of the
language of mathematics – the best support for science. In the formulas
of sexuation, for example, he tried to grasp the dead-ends of sexuality in
a weft of mathematical logic. This was like a heroic attempt to
make psychoanalysis into a science of the real in the way that logic
is. But that can’t be done without imprisoning jouissance in the phallic
function, in a symbol; it implies a symbolization of the real,
it implies referring to the binary man-woman as if living beings could be
partitioned so neatly, when we already see in the real of the 21st century
a growing disorder of sexuation. This is already a secondary construction
that intervenes after the initial impact of the body and lalangue, which constitutes
a real without law, without logical rule. Logic is only introduced afterwards,
with the elucubration, the fantasy, the subject supposed to know, and with
psychoanalysis. Until now, under the inspiration of the 20th century, our
clinical cases as we recount them have been logical-clinical constructions
under transference. But the cause-effect relation is a scientific
prejudice supported by the subject supposed to know. The cause-effect
relation is not valid at the level of the real without law, it is not valid
except with a rupture between cause and effect. Lacan said it as
a joke: if one understands how an interpretation works, it is not an
analytic interpretation. In psychoanalysis as Lacan invites us to practice
it, we experience the rupture of the cause-effect link, the opacity of the
link, and this is why we speak of the unconscious. I am going to say it
in another way: psychoanalysis takes place at the level of the repressed and
of the interpretation of the repressed thanks to the subject supposed
to know.
But in the 21st Century it is
a question of psychoanalysis exploring another dimension, that of
the defence against the real without law and without meaning. Lacan indicates
this direction with his notion of the real, as Freud does with his mythological
concept of the drive. The Lacanian unconscious, that of the latest Lacan, is
at the level of the real, let us say for convenience, below the Freudian
unconscious. Therefore, in order to enter into the 21st century, our clinic
will have to be centred on dismantling the defence, disordering the
defence against the real. The transferential unconscious in analysis is
already a defence against the real. And in the transferential unconscious
there is still an intention, a wanting
to say, a wanting you to tell me. When in fact the real unconscious
is not intentional: it is encountered under the modality of ‘that’s it’,
which you could say is like our ‘amen’.
Various questions will be
opened up for us at the next Congress: the redefinition of the desire of the
analyst, which is not a pure desire, as Lacan says, not a pure infinity
of metonymy but – this is how it appears to us – the desire to reach the real,
to reduce the other to its real, and to liberate it of meaning. I would
add that Lacan invented a way of representing the real with the Borromean
knot. We will ask ourselves how valid this representation is, of what use
it is to us now. Lacan made use of the knot to arrive at this irremediable
zone of existence where one can go no further with two. The passion for the
Borromean knot led Lacan to the same zone as Oedipus at Colonus, where one
finds the absolute absence of charity, of fraternity, of any human sentiment:
this is where the search for the real stripped of meaning leads us.”
Many things are very problematic
in the quoted passages. Problems begin with the notion of Real as Nature in
its regularity, as that which always returns at its place – as it was noted
by Lacan, already for ancient Aztecs and other civilizations of Sacrifice,
the natural Real was not simply a regularity that nothing can perturb.
Ancient Aztecs organized human sacrifices to guarantee – what? Not
a special favor of Gods but the very regularity of Nature at its most
elementary: human lives have to be sacrificed so that Nature will rotate in
its regular way, so that sun will raise in the morning, etc. In short, the
Real of the natural Order where “everything returns at its own place” needs
a symbolic intervention, it has to be guaranteed by rituals. There is
a key passage from this Real sustained by symbolic sacrifice to the
Real of modern science, the Newtonian real of natural laws, of the network
of causes and effects – it is only THIS Real that functions in itself, without
the help of any symbolic intervention:
“With the infinite universe
of mathematical physics nature disappears; it becomes solely a moral
instance. With the philosophers of the 18th Century, with the infinite universe
nature disappears and the real begins to be unveiled. / Fine, but I have
been asking myself about the formula there
is a knowledge in the real. It would be a temptation to
say that the unconscious is at this level. On the contrary, the supposition
of a knowledge in the real appears to me to be an ultimate veil that
needs to be lifted. If there is a knowledge in the real there is
a regularity, and scientific knowledge allows prediction, it is
so proud of prediction, in so far as this demonstrates the existence of
laws. And it does not require a divine utterance of these laws for
them to remain valid. It is by way of this idea of laws that the old idea of
nature has been preserved in the very expression the laws of nature.”
Miller proceeds here all too
fast: the break between traditional Nature and Nature of modern science is
more radical. In contrast to traditional Nature whose regular rhythm is
supposed to point towards a deeper cosmic sexualized meaning (day and
night as the regular exchange of masculine and feminine principles,
etc.), scientific laws of nature are themselves contingent, there is no
deeper meaningful necessity sustaining them, they are, to quote Miller,
discovered precisely “under the modality of ‘that’s it’, which you could
say is like our ‘amen’”.
Furthermore, Miller’s search
for the “pure” Real outside the Symbolic, a Real not yet stained by it,
that he attributes to Lacan has to be abandoned as a Deleuzian blind
alley – in a very Deleuzian way (repeating literally a formula
from Anti-Oedipus),
Miller speaks of the “true” pre-Oedipal Unconscious “beneath” the Freudian
one, as if we first have the “pure” pre-Oedipal movement of drives, the direct
interpenetration of signifying material and jouissance baptized by Lacan lalangue, and it is only in
a (logical, if not temporary) afterward that this flux is “ordained” by symbolic
elucubrations, forced into the symbolic straitjacket of binary logic, of
paternal Law and castration that sustain sexual difference as the normative
structure of two sexual identities, masculine and feminine. According
to Miller, even Lacan’s “formulas of sexuation” fall into this category of
symbolic elucubrations that obfuscate the “pure” Real outside the Law.
Today, however, things are changing, we “see in the real of the 21st century
a growing disorder of sexuation,” new forms of sexuality are emerging
which undermine “the binary man-woman as if living beings could be partitioned
so neatly” . . .
From a strict Lacanian
standpoint, something is terribly wrong with this line of reasoning:
Miller passes directly from the Real as Nature (which follows its regular
rhythm or its laws) to the pure lawless Real – what goes missing here is the
Lacanian Real itself, the Real which is nothing but a deadlock of symbolization
or formalization (“Le reel est un impasse de formalization,” as Lacan
put it in his Seminar XX),
the Real which is an immanent impossibility of the symbolic, a purely
formal obstacle that thwarts/distorts the symbolic from within, the Real of an
antagonism inscribed into the heart of the symbolic, the self-limitation
of symbolic. This impasse is not caused by an external real, as Miller implies
when he qualifies Lacan’s formulas of sexuation as elucubration on the
real: symbolic interpretations of sexual difference are such elucubrations,
but not the Real of the difference itself. Sexual difference is not
binary/differential, it is an antagonism that binary symbolic difference
try to “normalize” by way of translating it into symbolic oppositions.
(And, in a strictly homologous way, class antagonism is not
a symbolic elucubration on the lawless real of social life but the
name of the antagonism obfuscated by ideologico-political formations.
In equating capitalism with the Real outside the Law (outside castration),
Miller takes capitalism at its own ideology, ignoring Lacan who saw
clearly the antagonism masked by capitalist perversion. The vision of
today’s society as a capitalist Real outside symbolic law is
a disavowal of antagonism, not a primary fact.)
— Deleuze often varies the
motif of how, in becoming posthuman, we should learn to practice “a perception as it was
before men (or after). . . released from their human coordinates”:[6] those
who fully endorse the Nietzschean “return of the same” are strong enough to
sustain the vision of the “iridescent chaos of a world before man.”[7]
The standard realist approach aims at describing the world, reality, the
way it exists out there, independently of us, observing subjects.
But we, subjects, are
ourselves part of the world, so the consequent realism should include us in
the reality we are describing, so that our realist approach should include
describing ourselves “from the outside,” independently
of ourselves, as if we are observing ourselves through inhuman
eyes.
What this inclusion-of-ourselves
amounts to is not naive realism but something much more uncanny, a radical
shift in the subjective attitude by means of which we become strangers to
ourselves.
Although Deleuze here resorts
openly to Kant’s language, talking about the direct access to “things (the
way they are) in themselves,” his point is precisely that one should subtract
the opposition between phenomena and things-in-themselves, between the phenomenal
and the noumenal level, from its Kantian functioning, where noumena are
transcendent things that forever elude our grasp. What Deleuze refers to as
“things in themselves” is in a way even
more phenomenal, than our shared phenomenal reality: it is the
impossible phenomenon, the phenomenon that is excluded from our symbolically
constituted reality. The gap that separates us from noumena is thus
primarily not epistemological, but practico-ethical and libidinal:
there is no “true reality” behind or beneath phenomena, noumena are phenomenal
things which are “too strong,” too intens(iv)e, for our perceptual apparatus
attuned to constituted reality-epistemological failure is a secondary
effect of libidinal terror; that is, the underlying logic is
a reversal of Kant’s “You can, because you must!”: “You cannot (know noumena),
because you must not!” Imagine someone being forced to witness a terrifying
torture: in a way, the monstrosity of what he saw would make this an
experience of the noumenal impossible-real that would shatter the coordinates
of our common reality. (The same holds for witnessing an intense sexual
activity.) In this sense, if we were to discover films shot in a concentration
camp among the Musulmannen,
showing scenes from their daily life, how they are systematically mistreated
and deprived of all dignity, we would have “seen too much,” the prohibited,
we would have entered a forbidden territory of what should have
remained unseen. (One can well understand Claude Lanzmann, who said that if
he were to stumble upon such a film, he would destroy it immediately.)
This is also what makes it so unbearable to witness the last moments of
people who know they are shortly going to die and are in this sense already living-dead-again,
imagine that we would have discovered, among the ruins of the Twin Towers,
a video camera which magically survived the crash intact and is full of
shots of what went on among the passengers of the plane in the minutes before
it crashed into one of the towers. In all these cases, it is that, effectively,
we would have seen things as they are “in themselvers,” outside human coordinates,
outside our human reality-we would have seen the world with inhuman eyes.
(Maybe the US authorities do possess such shots and, for understandable
reasons, are keeping them secret.) The lesson is here profoundly Hegelian:
the difference between the phenomenal and the noumenal has to be
reflected/transposed back into the phenomenal, as the split between the
“gentrified” normal phenomenon and the “impossible” phenomenon.
The gap between $ and life-enjoyment (whose
most elementary form is the circular movement of drives) implies that subject
stands for death in life, that it stands at a distance towards life, for
its denaturalization, and what this denaturalization of life means is
that the will to live is not, as a long line of thinkers from Aristotle
to Spinoza presumed, a spontaneous natural impetus (or conatus) but something
towards which the subject already entertains a minimal distance:
“subject and its life do
not form an organic unity. Instead this innermost drive is felt as an external
compulsion, as a foreign element in which one has become entangled.
Which is why it can appear as a terrible bother and a drudgery, a series
of chores to be carried out: thinking, speaking, traveling, working, copulating,
and so on-I-’d rather not. Life does not immediately identify with itself,
but is something separated from the subject that is compelled to live it.
. . . For the human being, life does not present itself as
a self-evident inner power but as a commandment and a duty.
Freud writes, “To tolerate life remains, after all, the first duty of all living
beings.” This should be read literally: to live is not a natural and
spontaneous energeia
but a duty, a superego imperative, even the most fundamental
one. Vitalism is the formula of the superego.” (Aaron Schuster, The Trouble With Pleasure:
Deleuze and Psychoanalysis (Cambridge: MIT Press, 2016),
p. 39.
Insofar as to live means to
follow a superego injunction, and insofar as superego is an agency
which operates beyond the pleasure principle (even if we understand superego
in Laçants sense, as the imperative “Enjoy!,” enjoyment is to be opposed
here to pleasure), life itself functions beyond the pleasure principle-but
how, precisely? In Lacanese, the Freudian pleasure principle is “non-All”:
there is nothing outside it, no external limits, and yet it is not all, it
can break down. Deleuze drew the ultimate consequence of this notion of death
drive: death drive is “the transcendental conditions of the pleasure principle,”
it accounts for “how the psyche is constituted such that it can be ruled by
pleasure and unpleasure (with the twist in the story being that what makes
possible the pleasure principled reign also undermines it from
within)”: (The Trouble
With Pleasure: Deleuze and Psychoanalysis, p. 32.)
The death drive is “beyond”
the pleasure principle, but again this does not mean that it is located somewhere
else. The death drive is not a separate power that fights against or
opposes life, but rather what de-naturalizes or de-vitalizes the flux of
life. It takes away the self-evidence of that powerful compass of nature,
the orientation provided by feelings of pleasure and pain. If the unconscious
is the distortion, the glitch, the deviation of consciousness, the death
drive is the skew of Eros, the twist that makes of life not a direct
expression of vital forces but the deviation of the negative: instead of
a perseverance in being a “failing not to be.” (The Trouble With Pleasure: Deleuze and
Psychoanalysis, p. 33.)
So it is not that subject is
secretly dominated by some perverse tendency to sabotage its pleasures;
the point is that, in order for the subject to search for pleasures and avoid
unpleasures, it already has to stand at a certain distance towards
life, and this distance itself has to be inscribed into the functioning of
the pleasure principle as its incompleteness, as its inconsistency.
Nowhere is this immanent inconsistency of the pleasure principle more
clearly displayed than in the work of Marquis de Sade in which full pleasure
in life overlaps with the most rigorous Kantian ethics. The greatness of
Sade is that, on behalf of the full assertion of earthly pleasures, he not
only rejects any metaphysical moralism but also fully acknowledges the
price one has to pay for it: the radical intellectualization-instrumentalization-regimentation
of the (sexual) activity intended to bring pleasure. Here we encounter the
content later baptized by Marcuse “repressive desublimation”: after all
the barriers of sublimation, of cultural transformation of sexual
activity, are abolished, what we get is not raw, brutal, passionate, satisfying
animal sex, but, on the contrary, a fully regimented, intellectualized
activity comparable to a well-planned sporting match. The Sadean hero
is not a brute animal beast, but a pale, cold-blooded intellectual
much more alienated from the true pleasure of the flesh than is the prudish,
inhibited lover, a man of reason enslaved to the amor intellectualis diaboli-what
gives pleasure to him (or her) is not sexuality as such but the activity of
outstripping rational civilization by its own means, i.e., by way of thinking
(and practicing) to the end the consequences of its logic. So, far from
being an entity of full, earthly passion, the Sadean hero is fundamentally
apathetic, reducing sexuality to a mechanical planned procedure
deprived of the last vestiges of spontaneous pleasure or sentimentality.
What Sade heroically takes into account is that pure bodily sensual pleasure
and spiritual love are not simply opposed, but dialectically intertwined:
there is something deeply “spiritual,” spectral, sublime, about
a really passionate sensual lust, and vice versa (as the mystical
experience teaches us), so that the thorough “desublimation” of sexuality
also thoroughly intellectualizes it, changing an intense pathetic bodily
experience into a cold, apathetic mechanical exercise. Sade thus consequently
deployed the inherent potential of the Kantian philosophical revolution-but
how, precisely? The first association here is, of course: what’s all the
fuss about? Today, in our postidealist Freudian era, doesn’t everybody know
what the point of the “with” in “Kant with Sade” is-the truth of Kant’s ethical
rigorism is the sadism of the Law, i.e., the Kantian Law is a superego
agency that sadistically enjoys the subject’s deadlock, his inability to
meet its inexorable demands, like the proverbial teacher who tortures
pupils with impossible tasks and secretly savors their failings? Lacan’s
point, however, is the exact opposite of this first association: it is not
Kant who was a closet sadist, it is Sade who is a closet Kantian.
That is to say, what one should bear in mind is that the focus of Lacan is
always Kant, not Sade: what he is interested in are the ultimate consequences
and disavowed premises of the Kantian ethical revolution. In other words,
Lacan does not try to make the usual “reductionist” point that every ethical
act, as pure and disinterested as it may appear, is always grounded in some
“pathological” motivation (the agent’s own long-term interest, the admiration
of his peers, up to the “negative” satisfaction provided by the suffering
and extortion often demanded by ethical acts); the focus of Lacan’s interest
rather resides in the paradoxical reversal by means of which desire itself
(i.e., acting upon one’s desire, not compromising it) can no longer be grounded
in any “pathological” interests or motivations and thus meets the criteria
of the Kantian ethical act, so that “following one’s desire” overlaps with
“doing one’s duty.” Suffice it to recall Kant’s own famous example from his Critique of Practical Reason:
Suppose someone asserts of
his lustful inclination that, when the desired object and opportunity are
present, it is quite irresistible to him; ask him whether, if a gallows
were erected in front of the house where he finds this opportunity and he
would be hanged on it immediately after gratifying his lust, he would not
then control his inclination. One need not conjecture very long what he
would reply.
Lacan’s counterargument
here is that we certainly do
have to guess what his answer may be: what if we encounter a subject (as
we regularily do in psychoanalysis) who can only fully enjoy a night
of passion if some form of “gallows” is threatening him, i.e., if, by doing
it, he is violating some prohibition? Mario Monicelli’s Casanova ’70 (1965) with
Virna Lisi and Marcello Mastroianni hinges on this very point: the hero can
only retain his sexual potency if doing “it” involves some kind of danger. At
the film’s end, when he is on the verge of marrying his beloved, he wants at
least to violate the prohibition of premarital sex by sleeping with her
the night before the wedding- however, his bride unknowingly spoils even
this minimal pleasure by arranging with the priest for special permission
for the two of them to sleep together the night before, so that the act is
deprived of its transgressive sting. What can he do now? In the last shot of
the film, we see him crawling on the narrow porch on the outside of the
high-rise building, giving himself the difficult task of entering the
girl’s bedroom in the most dangerous way, in a desperate attempt to
link sexual gratification to mortal danger. . . So, Lacan’s point is that
if gratifying sexual passion involves the suspension of even the most elementary
“egotistic” interests, if this gratification is clearly located “beyond
the pleasure principle,” then, in spite of all appearances to the contrary,
we are dealing with an ethical act, and his “passion” is stricto sensu ethical.
The crucial clue that allows
us to discern the contours of “Sade in Kant” is the way Kant conceptualizes
the relationship between sentiments (feelings) and the moral law. Although
Kant insists on the absolute gap between pathological sentiments and the
pure form of moral law, there is one a priori sentiment that the subject
necessarily experiences when confronted with the injunction of the moral
law, the pain of humiliation (because of man’s hurt pride, due to the “radical
evil” of human nature); for Lacan, this Kantian privileging of pain as the
only a priori sentiment is strictly correlative to Sade’s notion of
pain (torturing and humiliating the other, being tortured and humiliated
by him) as the privileged way of access to sexual jouissance (Sade’s argument,
of course, is that pain is to be given priority over pleasure on account of
its greater longevity-pleasures are passing, while pain can last almost indefinitely).
Why does cliterodectomy cause such consternation? Because it provides
a clear case of how even the most brutal deprivation of the means of
pleasure (cutting of clitoris) can function as a means of generating
specific jouissance. What is so disturbing about cliterodectomy is not the
extremely brutal nature of this operation and its obvious role as an instrument
of male domination; nor is it the fact that some women at least value their
social acceptance so much that they are ready to accept cliterodectomy as
a moment of their full entrance into society. The truly disturbing
thing is that they may enjoy it.
A recent publicity spot for
upper-class eco-friendly tourism proposes that what we should be doing is
“exploring ways of blending luxury and sustainability,” and it clearly
designates its addressees: “For hedonists with a conscience.” There
is nothing truly paradoxical in this link between apparent opposites:
“hedonist with a conscience” is one of the must succinct definitions
of the predominant type of subjectivity we are interpellated into today.
In this type, pleasure principle and reality principle are harmoniously
blended, and what is excluded from this space of “hedonism with conscience”
is not only jouissance itself in its excessive character, but also the ethical
dimension proper, duty in its Kantian, unconditional sense. In short, what
is excluded is the domain designated by Lacan -’s formula Kant avec Sade, the uncanny
domain in which desire and law coincide, in which the ultimate categorical
imperative is “do not compromise your desire.”
This link can be further substantiated
by what Lacan calls the Sadean fundamental fantasy: the fantasy of another,
ethereal body of the victim, which can be tortured indefinitely and nonetheless
magically retains its beauty (see the standard Sadean figure of a young
girl sustaining endless humiliations and mutilations from her deprived
torturer and somehow mysteriously surviving it all intact, in the same
way Tom and Derry and other cartoon heroes survive all their ridiculous
ordeals intact). Doesn’t this fantasy provide the libidinal foundation of
the Kantian postulate of the immortality of the soul endlessly striving
to achieve ethical perfection, i.e., is not the fantasmatic “truth” of the
immortality of the soul its exact opposite, the immortality of the body,
its ability to sustain endless pain and humiliation? Dudith Butler pointed
out that the Foucauldian “body” as the site of resistance is none other
than the Freudian “psyche”: paradoxically, “body” is Foucault’s name for
the psychic apparatus insofar as it resists the soul’s domination. That
is to say, when, in his well- known definition of the soul as the “prison of
the body,” Foucault turns around the standard Platonic-Christian definition
of the body as the “prison of the soul,” what he calls “body” is not simply the
biological body, but is effectively already caught in some kind of presubjective
psychic apparatus.[8]
Consequently, don’t we encounter in Kant a secret homologous inversion,
only in the opposite direction, of the relationship between body and
soul: what Kant calls “immortality of the soul” is effectively the immortality
of the other, ethereal, “undead” body?
This redoubling of the body
into the common mortal body and the ethereal undead body brings us to the
crux of the matter: the distinction between the two deaths, the biological
death of the common mortal body and the death of the other “undead” body: it
is clear that what Sade aims at in his notion of a radical Crime is the
murder of this second body. Sade deploys this distinction in the long philosophical
dissertation delivered to Juliette by Pope Pius VI, part of book 5 of
Juliette:
there is nothing wrong with
rape, torture, murder, and so on, since these conform to the violence that
is the way of the universe. To act in accordance with nature means to actively
take part in its orgy of destruction. The trouble is that man’s capacity for
crime is highly limited, and his atrocities no matter how debauched ultimately
outrage nothing. This is a depressing thought for the libertine. The
human being, along with all organic life and even inorganic matter, is caught
in an endless cycle of death and rebirth, generation and corruption, so
that “there is indeed no real death,” only a permanent transformation
and recycling of matter according to the immanent laws of “the three kingdoms,”
animal, vegetable, and mineral. Destruction may accelerate this process,
but it cannot stop it. The true crime would be the one that no longer operates
within the three kingdoms but annihilates them altogether, that puts
a stop to the eternal cycle of generation and corruption and by doing
so returns to Nature her absolute privilege of contingent creation, of
casting the dice anew. (The
Trouble With Pleasure: Deleuze and Psychoanalysis,
pp. 39-40.)
What, then, at a strict
theoretical level, is wrong with this dream of the “second death” as
a radical pure negation which puts a stop to the life-cycle itelf?
In a superb display of his genius, Lacan provides a simple answer:
“It is just that, being a psychoanalyst, I can see that the second
death is prior to the first, and not after, as de Sade dreams it.” (The only
problematic part of this statement is the qualificaion “being
a psychoanalyst”-a Hegelian philosopher can also see this quite
clearly.) In what precise sense are we to understand this priority of the
second death-the radical annihilation of the entire life-cycle of generation
and corruption-over the first death which remains a moment of this
cycle? Schuster points the way: “Sade believes that there exists a well-
established second nature that operates according to immanent laws. Against
this ontologically consistent realm he can only dream of an absolute
Crime that would abolish the three kingdoms and attain the pure disorder of
primary nature.” (The Trouble
With Pleasure: Deleuze and Psychoanalysis, pp. 41-42.) In
short, what Sade doesn’t see is that there is no big Other, no Nature as an
ontologically consistent realm-nature is already in itself inconsistent,
unbalanced, destabilized by antagonisms. The total negation imagined by
Sade thus doesn’t come at the end, as a threat or prospect of radical
destruction, it comes at the beginning, it always-already happened, it stands
for the zero-level starting point out of which the fragile/inconsistent reality
emerges. In other words, what is missing in the notion of Nature as
a body regulated by fixed laws is simply subject itseLf : in Hegelese, the Sadean
Nature remains a Substance, Sade continues to grasp reality only as
Substance and not also as Subject, where “subject” does not stand for
another ontological level different from Substance but for the immanent
incompleteness-inconsistency-antagonism of Substance itself. And, insofar
as the Freudian name for this radical negativity is death drive, Schuster
is right to point out how, paradoxically, what Sade misses in his celebration
of the ultimate Crime of radical destruction of all life is precisely the
death drive:
for all its wantonness and
havoc the Sadeian will-to-extinction is premised on a fetishistic
denial of the death drive. The sadist makes himself into the servant of universal
extinction precisely in order to avoid the deadlock of subjectivity, the
“virtual extinction” that splits the life of the subject from within. The
Sadeian libertine expels this negativity outside himself in order to be
able to slavishly devote himself to it; the apocalyptic vision of an absolute
Crime thus functions as a screen against a more intractable
internal split. What the florid imagination of the sadist masks is the fact
that the Other is barred, inconsistent, lacking, that it cannot be served
for it presents no law to obey, not even the wild law of its accelerating
auto-destruction. There is no nature to be followed, rivaled or outdone, and
it is this void or lack, the non-existence of the Other, that is incomparably
more violent than even the most destructive fantasm of the death drive. Or
as Lacan argues, Sade is right if we just turn around his evil thought: subjectivity
is the catastrophe it fantasizes about, the death beyond death, the “second
death.” While the sadist dreams of violently forcing a cataclysm that
will wipe the slate clean, what he does not want to know is that this unprecedented
calamity has already taken place. Every subject is the end of the world, or
rather this impossibly explosive end that is equally a “fresh start,” the
unabolishable chance of the dice throw. (The
Trouble With Pleasure: Deleuze and Psychoanalysis,
pp. 41-42.)
It was already Kant who had characterized
free autonomous act as an act which cannot be accounted for in the terms of
natural causality, of the texture of causes and effects: a free act
occurs as its own cause, it opens up a new causal chain from its
zero-point. So insofar as “second death” is the interruption of the natural
life-cycle of generation and corruption, no radical annihilation of
the entire natural order is needed for this-an autonomous free act already
suspends natural causality, and subject as $ already is this cut in the
natural circuit, the self-sabotage of natural goals. The mystical name
for this end of the world is “night of the world,” and the philosophical
name, radical negativity as the core of subjectivity. And, to quote Mallarmé,
a throw of the dice will never abolish the hazard, i.e., the abyss of
negativity remains forever the unsublatable background of subjective
creativity. We may even risk here an ironic version of Gandhi’s famous
motto “be yourself the change you want to see in the world”: the subject is
itself the catastrophe it fears and tries to avoid. And is the lesson of
Flegel’s analysis of the French revolutionary terror not exactly the same
(which is why the parallel between Sade’s absolute crime and revolutionary
terror is well grounded)? Individuals threatened by the Terror have to
grasp that this external threat of annihilation is nothing but the
externalized/fetishized image of the radical negativity of self-consciousness-once
they grasp this, they pass from revolutionary Terror to the inner force of
the moral Law.
So when Malabou claims that
the post-traumatic subject cannot be accounted for in the Freudian terms
of the repetition of a past trauma (since the traumatic shock erases
all traces of the past), she remains all too fixed on the traumatic content
and forgets to include in the series of past traumatic memories the very
erasure of the substantial content, the very subtraction of the empty
form from its content. In other words, precisely insofar as it erases the
entire substantial content, the traumatic shock repeats the past, i.e., the past traumatic
loss of substance which is constitutive of the very dimension of subjectivity.
What is repeated here is not
some ancient content, but
the very gesture of erasing all substantial, content. This is
why, when one submits a human subject to a traumatic intrusion,
the outcome is the empty form of the “living- dead” subject, but when one
does the same to an animal, the result is simply total devastation: what
remains after the violent traumatic intrusion onto a human subject
which erases all its substantial content is the pure form of subjectivity,
the form which already must have been there. It is in this precise sense that
subjectivity and mortality are closely linked, although in a sense
that totally differs from the standard Fleideggerian topic of finitude. In
his rejection of the thought of finitude, Badiou asserted that
death is something that happens to you; it is not
the immanent unfolding of some linear programme. Even if we say that human
life cannot go beyond a hundred and twenty years, for biological,
genetic etc. reasons, death as death is always something that happens to you. One great
thinker on death is La Palice. A truth we get from La Palice is that “a
quarter an hour before his death, he was still alive.” That isn’t at all absurd
or naïve. It means that “a quarter an hour before death” he wasn’t what Fleidegger
sees as “a quarter hour before death”-he wasn’t “a-being-toward-death” ever
since his birth. “A quarter of an hour before his death” he was alive, and
death happens to
him. And I would maintain that death always comes from the outside.
Spinoza said something excellent on that score: “Nothing can be destroyed
except by an external cause.” . . . This means that death is in a position
of radical exteriority: we would not even say that a human reality,
a Dasein, is
mortal. Because “mortal” means to say that it contains the virtuality of
death in an immanent fashion. In truth, all that is is [9] generically
immortal, and then death intervenes.[9]
Crucial here is the mention
of Spinoza, and here one should oppose Spinoza to Flegel: while for Spinoza,
every destruction comes from outside, thwarting every organism’s immanent
tendency to reproduce and expand its life power, for Flegel, negation is
immanent, inscribed into the innermost identity of every living being, so
that every destruction is ultimately self-destruction. To avoid misunderstanding,
Flegel would have agreed that there is no deeper meaning in death, that death
comes as a radically external meaningless contingency-but it is precisely
as such that it corrodes from within the very core of human identity and its
universe of meaning. Furthermore, like Badiou, Hegel asserts
infinity/immortality, but for him, immortality emerges precisely through
“tarrying with the negative,” through its immanent ovecoming: only
a being which is not constrained by its mortality can relate to its
death “as such.” This overcoming is paradoxically a form of “death in
life”: a human being overcomes its mortality through gaining
a distance towards its life-substance (for example, through its readiness
to risk its life for some spiritual cause). Hegel’s name for this dimension
is negativity, and Freud’s name is death-drive. Immortality is death in
life, a deadly force that acquires control over the living substance,
or, as Paul would have put it, Spirit is the death of flesh.
One should strictly oppose
here subjectivity and the soul of living beings: “The Notion is not merely
soul, but free subjective Notion that is for itself and therefore possesses
personality-the
practical, objective Notion determined in and for itself which, as person,
is impenetrable atomic subjectivity. … It contains all determinateness
within it.” [10]
The distinction between Soul and Subject is crucial here: Soul is the Aristotelian
immanent ideal form/principle of an organism, the immaterial “life force”
that keeps it alive and united, while subject is antisoul, the point of negative
self-relating which reduces the individual to the abyss of a singularity
at a distance from the living substance that sustains it. That’s why,
for Hegel, a notion comes to exist as such, “for itself,” in its opposition
to its empirical instantiations, only insofar as it is located in an
“impenetrable atomic subjectivity.” His point here is not a commonsense
vulgarity according to which in order for universal thoughts to exist,
there has to be an empirical subject that does the thinking (therein resides
the endlessly boring motif of the critics of Hegel from young Marx onwards:
“thoughts don’t think themselves, only concrete living subjects can think.
. .”). While Hegel is fully aware of this dependence of thoughts on
a thinking subject, his point is a more precise one: what kind of
subject can do this “abstract” thinking (in the common sense of the term:
thinking of formal thoughts purified of their empirical wealth-say, thinking
of a “horse” in abstraction from the wealth of content of empirical horses)?
His answer is: a subject which is itself “abstract,” deprived of the
wealth of empirical features, reduced to its “impenetrable atomic” singularity.
This may sound weird and counterintuitive: is Notion in its universality
not the very opposite of atomic impenetrability? However, “abstraction”
can be performed in two ways (or, rather, in two directions): erasure of
all particular features in order to obtain the abstract form (say, the universal
“horse” as such), end erasure of all particular features (qualities) in
order to obtain the pure singularity of the thing in question (a pure
“this” or X without properties), and Hegel’s point is that subjectivity
emerges when such singularity becomes “for itself”: a subject is for
itself the abyss of a pure X at a distance from all its properties.
Both “abstractions” are strictly correlative: universal form can emerge
as such only in an entity which is for itself reduced to the impenetrable
abyss of pure singularity. More precisely, the impenetrable atomic singularity
is not something external to the Notion, it is Notion itself in its “oppositional
determination,” Notion as actually existing singularity-in this sense
Hegel wrote that Self is a pure Notion. The Cartesian name for this singularity
is cogito: the
Self reduced to the evanescent punctuality of the act of thinking.
When Badiou opposes the life
of a human animal oriented towards “servicing of the goods” and the
life defined by the fidelity to an Event, one should raise the key question:
how should animal life be transformed so that it can sustain the consequences
of an Event, i.e., what happens to a human animal when it turns into
a subject? The Hegelo-Lacanian reply is here: death drive, i.e., human
animal has to integrate the dimension of death, it has to become a “living
dead,” at a distance from life. In other words, the eventual level does
not simply add itself to animal life as another dimension, its arrival distorts,
transforms animal life at its innermost. -At this point, one has to make
a choice between idealism and materialism: is the distortion of the
human animal the effect of an Event, the way an Event inscribes itself into the
order of animal life (idealist version), or does the distortion of the
human animal come first, opening up the space for the possible emergence of
an Event (materialist version)?
The axiom of the philosophy
of finitude is that one cannot escape finitude/mortality as the unsurpassable
horizon of our existence; Lacan’s axiom is that, no matter how much one
tries, one cannot escape immortality. But what if this choice is false-what
if finitude and immortality, like lack and excess, also form a parallax
couple, what if they are the same from a different point of view? What
if immortality is an object that is a remainder/excess over finitude,
what if finitude is an attempt to escape from the excess of immortality? What
if Kierkegaard was right here, but for the wrong reason, when he also understood
the claim that we, humans, are just mortal beings who disappear after their
biological death as an easy way to escape the ethical responsibility that
comes with the immortal soul? He was right for the wrong reason insofar as he
equated immortality with the divine and ethical part of a human
being-but there is another immortality. What Cantor did for infinity, we
should do for immortality, and assert the multiplicity of immortalities:
the Badiouian noble immortality/infinity of the deployment of an Event (as
opposed to the finitude of a human animal) comes after a more basic
form of immortality which resides in what Lacan calls the Sadean fundamental
fantasy: the fantasy of another, ethereal body of the victim, which can be
tortured indefinitely and nonetheless magically retains its beauty
(recall the Sadean figure of the young girl sustaining endless humiliations
and mutilations from her depraved torturer and somehow mysteriously surviving
it all intact, in the same way Tom and Derry and other cartoon heroes survive
all their ridiculous ordeals intact). In this form, the comical and the disgustingly-terrifying
(recall different versions of the “undead”-zombies, vampires, etc.-in popular
culture) are inextricably connected. The same immortality underlies the
intuition of something indestructible in a truly radical Evil. In the
classic German poem about two naughty children, Wilhelm Busch’s “Max und
Moritz” (first published in 1865), the two children are constantly acting
in a disgraceful way against respected authorities, until, finally,
they both fall into a wheat mill and come out cut into tiny grains-but
when these grains fall on the floor, they form a shape of the two boys:
“Rickeracke! Rickeracke! / Geht die Mühle mit Geknacke. / Hier kann man sie
noch erblicken, / Fein geschroten und in Stücken.” In the original illustration,
their shapes are obscenely sneering, persisting in their evil even after
their death. . . Adorno was right when he wrote that when one encounters
a truly evil person, it is difficult to imagine that this person can
die. We are of course not immortal, we all (will) die-the “immortality” of
the death drive is not a biological fact but a psychic stance of
“persisting beyond life and death,” of a readiness to go on beyond
the limits of life, of a perverted life-force which bears witness to a
“deranged relationship towards life.” Lacan’s name for this derangement is,
of course, jouissance, excessive enjoyment, whose pursuit can make us neglect
or even self-sabotage our vital needs and interests. At this precise point,
Lacan radically differs from the thinkers of finitude for whom a human
being is a being-towards-death, relating to its own finitude and unavoidable
death: it is only through the intervention of jouissance that a human
animal becomes properly mortal, relating to the prospect of its own extinction.
Lacan notes apropos of the “life and death dialogue” how “it only acquires
the character of a drama from the moment when enjoyment [jouisssance] intervenes.
The vital point. . . is the deranged relationship to one’s own body called
enjoyment”: [11]
If an animal is eating [stuffing
itself: bouffe]
regularly, it is clear that this happens because it doesn’t know the enjoyment
of hunger. The one who speaks—this is what psychoanalysus teaches us—colors
with enjoyment all its [vital] needs, that is to say, that by means of which
it defends itself against death. [12]
One should take here “enjoyment
of hunger” quite literally: what if, as part of a complex ritual, hunger
itself becomes libidinally invested? What if, in a typical reversal,
preparation to eat provides more pleasure than the act of eating itself?
Robert Brandom uses the same example of hunger to illustrate the structure
of what he calls “erotic awareness”:
Erotic awareness has
a tripartite structure, epitomized by the relations between hunger, eating, and food. Hunger is
a desire, a kind of attitude.
It immediately impels hungry animals to respond to some objects by treating
them as food, that
is, by eating
them. Food is
accordingly a significance
that objects can have to animals capable of hunger. It is something things
can be for desiring
animals. Eating
is the activity of taking or treating something as food.[13]
It is But does this structure
really deserve to be called “erotic”? Doesn’t eroticism proper emerge only
when the aim of our activity doesn’t directly overlap with its goal—in the
case of hunger, when postponing the act of eating itself brings pleasure?
To put it another way, when Brandom writes: “That practical identification,
through risk and sacrifice, with one element of what he is for himself at
once expresses and constitutes the Master as in himself a geistig,
normative being, and not just a desiring, natural one,” should we not
raise the obvious question: but what if this “element” is (an object of)
desire itself? What if someone is ready to risk and sacrifice everything for
his/her desire, including all his/her natural interests? Therein resides the
point of Lacan’s “Kant avec
Sade.”
Notes
[1] Alberto
Toscano, “The
Detour of Abstraction,” in Diacritics,
2015, Vol.43 (No2): Other
Althusser, p. 78.
[2] Quoted
from Diacritics,
2015, Vol.43 (No2): Other
Althusser, p.85.
[3] Quoted
from op.cit., p. 93.
[4] Jason
Barker, “Are
We (Still) Living in a Computer Simulation?”, in op.cit., p.94.
[5] Jaques-Alain
Miller, “Un reel pour le XXIe siecle,” in Un reel pour le XXIe siecle,
Paris: Scilicet 2013. English translation available at http://www.congresamp2014.com/en/template.php?file=Textos/Presentation-du-theme_Jacques-Alain-Miller.html.
[7] Ibid.,81.
[8] See
Butler, The Psychic Life of
Power, 28–29
[9] Alain
Badiou, “Badiou: Down with Death!,” Verso Books blog, August 18, 2015, http://www.versobooks.com/blogs/2176‐badiou‐down‐with‐death.
[10] Hegel’s
Science of Logic,
824.
[11] Jacques
Lacan, Le séminaire, livre
XIX: . . . ou pire (Paris: Seuil, 2011), 43.
[12] Ibid.,
54.
[13] Brandom,
“A Spirit of Trust,” quoted from http://www.pitt.edu/~brandom/spirit_of_trust_2014.html.
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