Against the Very Idea of Jacques Derrida

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As far as the mainstream press goes, one of the better articles on Derrida's death was printed in the Guardian a few days ago. Though I'm inclined, on a gut level, to be sympathetic with the kind of reactionary-liberal criticism (stay with me folks) levelled at Derrida by the New York Times among others, the Guardian article, I think, offers a fairer and more subtle account of exactly what's at issue when we talk of the differences between realism and relativism, objectivity and subjectivity, analytical and continental philosophy. By the way you can find it HERE.

The divide between French (and to some extent German) thought and its Anglophonic counterpart is at least as hotly contested and nuanced as the divide between french fries and proper English chips. But the stakes are far greater. I'm not going to claim any expertise on the debate, but I am (and certainly we all should be) an anxious and interested party to it. Richard Lea does as good a job of hitting the main points as can be done in a newspaper article, so I won't echo him. But I will disagree with him on one point. Contrary to what Lea suggests, it DOES seem to me that there ARE genuine relativists out there, prominent ones like Richard Rorty, to use a name Lea mentions, and Frederic Jameson, to use one he does not. But the classic targets of anglophonic venom--Foucault, Derrida, and Lyotard for starters--don't, on my reading, come out in the end as strictly relativistic.

Serious thinkers warrant serious consideration, and I doubt there is an analytical philosopher around who could walk away from The Order of Things, Who's Afraid of Philosophy?, or The Postmodern Condition, without being expanded. If the purpose of philosophy is to touch reality, than we cannot reject the continental project wholesale just because we don't like its methods. Regardless, the onus is on analytical philosophy to answer the critiques of the Western Tradition/Rationalism/Humanism/Modernity that the post-Marxists, poststructuralists and postmodernists have put forward. If our analytic is really so much better than their hermeneutic, then why does their's seem to gain ground even as our's loses it? To reply that people are stupid or base is to evade the question. We need better and more usable answers.

This, of course, is not to say that there aren't about a zillion Po-Mo "critical theorists" who will be FIRST AGAINST THE WALL when the Revolution comes. There was a time when the only "critical theorist" around was a Prussian out of Königsberg by the name of Immanuel Kant. Nowadays, any lit-crit with a chip on his shoulder and a Ph.D. in the "Human Sciences" can lay claim to endless stretches of interpretive space and theoretical discourse. These latte-sipping lemmings are about as post-Marxist as Stalin was. I'd like to think that any of the dead Frenchmen mentioned above would have more interest in bedding one of these sophists than supervising their dissertation. But I digress...

The point is, ideas are grand and learning new ones is positively orgaistic. But if there is one thing old Jacques-the-Ripper taught us, it's that ideas, bound as they are to language, are readily hijacked and distorted. Just ask the Editorial Board at Duke University's publication Social Text, who learned this the hard way after falling ass-first into the postmodern parody of Sokal's Hoax (If you click one thing in this meandering post, make it this one. It's positively priceless). So maybe it isn't, as many an old English philosopher have worried, that we have to protect the masses from postmodernism. Maybe it's that we have to protect postmodernism from the masses.

-A Fosterian dialectic

Why the best sex is when you're ugly and she's not.

Let's face it. There are better looking men than me. Sexier men, even. Ok, better looking and sexier. Better, sexier manlier men than me. Alright, I make Jack Black look like Jack Nicholson. Fine, I make Jack Nicholson look like Jack Nicholson 1978. But I've got my charms. Hell, I've even been laid a few times. And now I'm in a damned-fine, committed, loving relationship with an angelic sex-kitten who's so far out of my price-range I've had to take out no-interest loans with the World Bank conditional on liberal economic reforms and the cessation of my long and persistent history of human rights violations.

But let's leave all that one side for the moment. I'm human: bleed if pricked, laugh if tickled and all that...and I'm a thousand miles away from the warm and comforting body of the one I love. What's more, there is still some of that early-adolescent semen kicking around in me, and I'm lustful. Now, I'm not so stupid as to act on this vaguely directed dick-headedness (not that there is a queue of willing, limber, highly-trained virgins forming outside my door to take up the task), nor do I, in any important sense of the word, WANT to. To want something like this is to want it metaphysically, spiritually, i.e. to want the whole shift in the state-of-affairs of the universe that comes with it. This is the last thing I want. There is no sheer quantity nor quality of TNA which can be measured against what I now have with my girlfriend (her TNA, of course, included). Rather, I want as the baby wants from mother's teat, as the dog wants from the bone, as the Republican wants from a Bush victory: the raw, unthinking, visceral bliss of instant gratification, unencumbered by any higher-order reflection on consequence or reason.

But if I'm really honest with myself--and why not, it seems the consensus on the best place to vomit forth one's soul has shifted from the shrink's couch to the blog's html prompt--what I want is simpler still. I want to be wanted. That's why when the few and far between advances come (usually from sweet, tipsy British girls who've always wanted an American teddy bear) the id is tempted even where the ego is strong. For the blessed few among us, this narcissism is satiated in high school or the heady, post-breakup days of freshman year. There, if you are of the Ubercrombie, or captain of the team, or always have the best ganj', you can count on a steady diet of beer-tinged hookups and mediocre blowjobs. But the rest of us have got to earn it. And in the end, its the earning that makes it great. Like so many Stephen Daedelii, with nothing but exhile, cunning and silence to fend for ourselves, we push our wares, work our small miracles, and from the ashes of adolescence build for you the man you can desire; not for his abs but for his guts, not for his dick but for his balls (and his dick).

Closer in figure to Buddha than Adonis, more of a mind with Tacitus than Ovid, we nevertheless somehow find the words, the gestures, the deeds to win you to our cause. And before you can say Cyrano de Bergerac, you are lying, bathed in moonlight, naked and breathless and quivering on our bed...

I assure you, my friends, that there is no greater ego boost than leaving a sexually spent woman to wash your face, and, in catching your reflection in the mirror, thinking "what the hell is she doing with me?"

-Fostanova

(scene 5) (the same as scene 1: a party, with subscenes)

(scene 5a)

(enter Guy and Randall)

(in the corner of the party is Horny, making out with the never-before-mentioned William)

Randall: Look, you're going to have fun tonight. You need to have fun tonight. I need you to have fun tonight.

Guy: OK, I'll try. (walks in, sees them) (freezes)

Randall: What? You haven't even stood in line for crappy beer yet--

Guy: No. That's, that's--

Randall: (looks over, but only sees William with a girl he's had less experience identifying) Cause of, that? I mean, yeah, we all think William's a tool. An automated electronic tool. A tool box. A goddamn Home Depot. But you can't let it get to your head just cause he's getting some and you're not. Whatever, a girl who would make out with him? At this kind of party? She's just some sort of slut. Whatever. Fuck that guy and that ho any--(they shift, and it's obviously her) Oh.

(sub-scene)

(scene 5b)

(Needs-to-be-Popular is talking to a few friends. Drunk is hanging on her)

Popular: I just don't know how she could be dating him-- (general agreement from friends)

Guy: (cutting in) Hey, hun, could we talk?

Popular: Yeah, sure. (they step away) (tagged-by drunk)

Guy: So... I haven't seen you much since-- I mean, I know it's only been three weeks, but, I guess it's just weird cause we used to see each other--

Drunk: So, yeah, I'm hooking up with someboedy now.

Guy: Yeah, I sorta got that when I saw you--

Drunk: OK, bye! I need another shot. Who wants to do a shot? (does one that's stationed at a table, runs off)

(sub-scene)

(scene 5c)

(guy is sitting on a couch, hanging with his head back, when Needy walks up)

Needy: Hi. How are you doing?

Guy: (seeing her, finishes his drink deliberately in response) All right. What's up?

Needy: (crashing on the couch) Oh (sigh) I guess I'll be all right, just... th-

Guy: What?

Needy: Well, I had a midterm today. --(tagged-by unexplained coldness)

Guy: What class?

Unexplained Coldness: Nevermind.

Guy: O...K. (pause) Well, I hope everything works out okay. (goes to pat her on the back in an attempt to be... conciliatory? Helpful?)

Unexplained Coldness: Don't-- don't touch.

Guy: Check. Well, I need to freshen-- I need a drink.

(sub-scene)

(scene 5d)

(Guy's standing, Girl walks over to him)

Girl: Hi.

Guy: Oh, hi.

Girl: Have you done anything at this part other than avoid and try to talk to me?

Guy: I've certainly--

Girl: Say it.

Guy: Say what? (she looks at him) OK, fine. How could you be hooking up with him? I'm so much cooler than he is. Ugh, are you trying to drive me crazy?

Girl: Sweetie, of course not.

Guy: Cause, well, I'm not proud of it, but the idea of you, and him. I'm so much cooler--

Girl: And if it were someone cooler than you you'd be just as crazy about it, except it would have blown your self-confidence and so instead of being at this party you'd be sucking your thumb in that one corner of your room. And if he were exactly as cool as you, you'd be freaked out more than you can imagine by the similarities. I know you, you'd sit down and list them.

Guy: OK. Are you two dating?

Girl: I hope not. If I wanted a boyfriend, we'd still be going out. So, are we better now? Can we get back to the prior business of partying?

Guy: Yeah, sure.

Girl: If you have something to say, say it. (tagged-by Popular, but they only get part way to changing the dress before she says the next line)

Guy: No, no.

Popular: OK, fine. (tagged-by Girl)

Guy: Wait, if we talk, can I talk to you?

Girl: Of course-- what do you mean? Who else would you talk to?

Guy: One of your other personalities. Do you not realize this? Yeah, there's you, and I love-d you. And then there are the others. (pulling them off the bench they sit on) There's the needy you, which I at least knew how to deal with. There's drunk you, who is endearing, but won't let you forget it, even when she does. There's the Unexplained Coldness, the time with you when we were sitting next to each other and even talking, but not connecting. There's the you that Needs-to-be-popular and the one with Worldly Ambitions. Those are interesting, because that's having to be accepted by people younger than you and older than you, respectively. And then, how can we forget everyone's favorite dwarf: Sleazy.

Girl: That's very convenient for you, isn't it? Breaking me into those parts. You think you've got me covered?

Guy: I spent a lot of time observing you. Especially when you wouldn't talk to me. Just sitting there, limply holding hands.

Girl: OK, well, how about this one? The Motherly side of me.

Guy: I-- I don't know that one.

Girl: That's right, you don't. She never got a chance to come out in our relationship. You were always so good at taking care of me, but you were pretty lousy at being taken care of.

Guy: Well, you're complex. I wasn't sure that you'd be there-- I wasn't sure if I could trust you.

Girl: (during this speech, she pulls out his personalities, which we hadn't even thought about. Aha!) It showed. And do you think you're so damn simple yourself? You would sometimes be amazing at bringing out the best in people in simple conversation. And then I'd come over, and you'd be too busy playing online chess to notice I wore the shirt of your favorite band.

Chess: But it's timed, and this one's rated!

Girl: You can go from giving your friends the best hugs in the world to suddenly being silent whenever anyone else enters the conversation. Where do you find inside yourself to hide? And why? What happens to the boy who always has to call me after he drops me off to make sure he was properly understood? And how is he possibly the same guy who can't resist the temptation of a bad joke? (to the Joker guy) Weather's here.

Joker: Wish you were beautiful.

(just to clarify, at this point, the stage is full of, like, 15 personalities)

Girl: And then there's the you that's not quite horny, but treats sex like you're a kid in a candy store, looking to get one of every type of grope and nuzzle. You're ridiculous!

Guy: Why did we break up?

Girl: Because you wanted to.

Guy: And then I changed my mind. Why did we stay broken up?

Girl: Because I was happy being single. Because I knew I couldn't marry you.

Guy: Y'know how it seems to me? It's like we bought a car together. And I had never had a car before. So I was disappointed when the car wouldn't go, like, 700 mph, and that you had to put some effort into it, change the oil, wipe the windshield. Cause I had only see cars in movies, and you never have to do that in movies. So I was like, "let's return the car." And you were like, "uh, okay." Then a week later, I come back to you and say "wait, I was wrong." And you were like, "I like walking."

Girl: Haha. That's an awesome way of putting it!

Guy: I don't know how you can see that and not agree with me that we should still be together.

Girl: Because I don't feel that way anymore. I'm sorry, I don't. No, I take that back, I'm not sorry. I'm not trying to feel that way. I don't. I still think you're great, but--

Guy: But you could. It's possible you could feel that way.

Girl: That's like saying it's possible to walk to the moon.

Guy: No, no. They're completely different. That's not possible, in the universe.

Girl: When you're talking about feelings, how I feel is how the universe works. How can you feel this way? You're the one who just told me how I was an awful and schizophrenic girlfriend. We were lucky to get five good minutes together in a row.

Guy: But those five minutes. Most people are lucky to get five minutes those good in their life. There's no one I'd rather have mutual, poorly-timed, reinforcing mood swings with. I don't know how you could give them up so easily.

Girl: Maybe I just got greedy and now I want something where I can have 10 minutes in a row. Or 15. Or maybe a whole day. Or more.

Guy: But until then, it's worth a month of unexplained coldness.

Girl: There's the thing, it may have been unexplained coldness, but it was never unexplainable.

Guy: So why didn't you? So why don't you? I'm listening.

Girl: Because sometimes you just can't talk about them. Ugh. Why must you gloss over all the problems and just focus on the positive.

Guy: Oh, I don't gloss over anything. It's just that you see the positive and the negative. I see the positive and what could be fixed.

Girl: Great. Then fix it with the next girl.

Guy: Why can't the next girl be the last girl? (she's bothered by that statement) Look, yeah, there was a lot of stuff that I disliked. And stuff about you that grated me. It did. Stuff that I knew was never going to change some I've told you about, some I didn't even bother. Cause I knew it would make no difference. Sometimes you really frustrated me.

Girl: Then stop wanting to go out with me. Find someone perfect for you. You're right, it was pretty great. And the way to honor that isn't be fawning. The best thing I can say for our relationship is this: it's worth being honest about.

(scene)

Rice sticks to your Colin

-The prospects of a reconciliatory second term for President Bush are mixed at best. While Ashcroft is set to be replaced by a less zealous (and less white) Alberto Gonzales, Secretary Powell, once thought the Spock to Dubya's Kirk, has been asked not to ask to ask to be asked not to leave and is set to be replaced by the more hawkish (and more black) Condy Rice. While Rice has a lot of things going for her, I can't help but think of Andrew Johnson replacing Abe Lincoln at the table with the confederates, of Clement Atlee subbing for Winston Churchill at Potsdam, of Ben Affleck stepping in for Harrison Ford in The Sum of All Fears. . .

AND ANOTHER THING. . . We may like Ryan White's blog, but I can't help take issue with some of what he had to say about "Why Kerry Lost". Now, I am not picking on Mr. White (and I'm sure that even if I were he would be more than capable of defending himself), but I think his pathos is emblematic of much of what's going on in the Democratic party right now. White's analysis, though in his own words "half-assed", is still as good as any unpaid pundit out there blogging. But what worries me isn't the analysis, it's the ideology, or rather the strange quasiology that seems to occupy an awkward space between pragmatism and utopianism.

White says one of the factors contributing to Bush's victory was the surprising salience of 'Value' issues among voters, but that "moral issues does [sic] not necessarily translate into gay rights, abortion, et. al., so there's no need for Democrats to move to the right on these issues." That the first response White ponders is a shift in stance is very telling of the Democratic condition! White goes on to say "we can't simply run away from moral issues. When we use doublespeak and beat around the bush when asked a question about this, we look like we're hiding something. We need to adopt a consistent stance and stick with it." Look like you're hiding something? Look? And does the need to adopt a consistent stance and stick with it imply that hitherto the Democrats have had an inconsistent stance (or no stance at all) that they have not stuck with?

The troubling implications continue, as White bemoans the lack of a "reliable" Democratic base, and considers labor unions, minorities, Hollywood, and college students among the available options. What a motley crew, indeed. It seems the only thing these potential bases have in common is the general inclination to like happiness and sunshine (and, of course, scab-busting).
Maybe the debasement (if you'll forgive the pun) of the Democratic party has something to do with another problem White mentions, namely the Dems' complete and utter lack of message. White's got a solution, though: "We shouldn't be defending the status quo and government programs when we're shut out of them." Instead "We need to say we're the outsiders, like "the people," fighting against those fat-cat bureaucrats."

I'm going to let that one sink in for a moment...

And then ask, without further comment on the almost inexplicable disingenuousness of those comments, exactly what there IS to the Democratic party that's WORTH saving?

I'm inclined to think very little. The Party revealed this election year is shallow, aimless, cannibalistic (just look at the job they did on Dean), and worst of all spiteful. Even assuming there is any progressiveness or substantive idealism remaining in the American Left, I find it difficult to see how it can be reconciled with these, the lesser demons of your nature. Mr. White puts the "sharp" in sharpton on this point. He recognizes acutely that the punditnistas and backpackerazzi who spoke for the Left in 2004 are condescending and alienating. It's like my uncle Richie told me when I was twelve, something I've never forgotten: "Dan," he said. "Nobody likes a smartass." The widespread unpopularity of this blog can attest to that fact, but so too can the "impact" of the Michael Moores and Jon Stewarts of the world on Kerry/Edwards 2004.

What's needed is that the Democrats do more than just "say" or pretend to be the "insurgent" party, but for fuckssake actually BE the insurgent party. Too risky, you say? Too marginalizing you say? Impossible to do while surviving in the two-party system, you say? Maybe so, but either way the Democratic party is dying, bleeding to death not from the heart, as conservatives may have suspected, but from the balls, or rather, where the balls used to be before the Blue-Dogs and New Democrats blew them off. When will LIBERALS learn that the Democratic party is NOT your party, that your party has been TAKEN from you by the likes of Harold Ford Jr.? When will DEMOCRATS learn that Bill Clinton was the exception and not the rule, that your "centrist" rhetoric has failed to pick up control of any branch of the federal government since 1992? (Even in 2000, with the notoriously stellar American economy and jizz-stained coattails of W.J. Clinton). The third-way was a hoax, Mr. White. The method of either swallowing Republican issues as your own, or else defining your agenda as vaguely opposed to what the Right supports, is not going to cut it anymore. And a party that believes only in its own survival is no party at all.

Mind you, all this comes from an embittered quasi-libertarian Bull-Moose perspective that, for all its fervor, is less-than thoroughly grounded in pragmatics. But perhaps an excess of pragmatism is the Democrat's greatest problem. I am no happier than Mr. White about Bush's victory, but when I looked to Kerry I saw little more than a rough outline of a man and a curious blurriness where the convictions were supposed to be. I can respect Howard Dean, Al Sharpton, and Ralph Nader, about whom the fact that they actually believe in something does little to mitigate the capital-crimes of "unelectability" and "spoiling". What is there to respect in most of the Democrats on the hill? Oh yeah, they're not Bush.

-Publius Fosterius

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