Postmodern Legal Theories, Group 1 C
The book in general
Distinction between the modern and the postmodern conditions or
eras with reference to the work by Jean Francois Lyotard
Two fundamental ideas underpinning modern law and legal theory:
the rational and autonomous subject & the clarity ad objectivity of
meaning of the legal text
Discussion about the practical significance of postmodern
jurisprudence, it’s ability to provide answers to pressing questions
of law and justice.
Discussion questions
1. How did Lyotard define postmodernism and what did he mean
with this definition?
2. How is Derrida using Plato´s theory in the article to argue his
own theory?
3. What are the critics in the article about deconstruction in
Derrida's theory?
4. How do modern and postmodern law differ from each other
when it comes to subject and meaning of the laws?
5. What is the practical significance of postmodern jurisprudence
nowadays?
Article
Postmodernism, Derrida and Différance : A Critique, Dr Brendan
Sweetman.
[This article originally appeared in © International Philosophical Quarterly,
Vol.XXXIX, No.1, (March 1999), pp.5-18.]
Postmodernism, Derrida and Différance: A Critique
(DR BRENDAN SWEETMAN, Rockhurst University)
(Abstract: This article provides, through a discussion of the work of Jacques
Derrida, an examination of the philosophical basis of postmodernism. The first
section identifies and explains the positive claims of postmodernism, including
the key claim that all identities, presences, etc. depend for their existence on
something which is absent and different from themselves. The second section
further illustrates the positive claims through an analysis of Derrida's
"deconstructionist" reading of Plato. The final section raises a number of critical
problems for postmodernism: that it confuses aesthetics with metaphysics; that it
mistakes assertion for argument in philosophy; that it is guilty of relativism; and
that it is self-contradictory.)
An influential new movement has emerged in philosophy in the past thirty
years which has come to be known as Postmodernism. Some believe that the
term "Postmodernism" is ambiguous and hard to define, and it is true that it
is often used in a number of ways which bear little relation to the
postmodernist movement in philosophy. For the postmodernist approach to
knowledge is also dominant in a variety of disciplines, especially literature,
history, theology, feminism, and multiculturalism (though I do not wish to
suggest that everything in these disciplines is defined by postmodernism).
Before I begin my discussion and critique of postmodernism, I wish to
present my own understanding of the term, a working definition which
captures its philosophical import. I define postmodernism as a movement
whose central theme is the critique of objective rationality and identity, and a
working out of the implications of this critique for central questions in
philosophy, literature and culture. My definition is motivated by my belief
that postmodernism is mainly a philosophical theory about the nature of
knowledge, and the ability of the human mind to know reality. In short,
postmodernism mainly revolves around a set of metaphysical claims about
the natures of language and meaning. Jean-François Lyotard describes the
postmodern condition as characterized by an "incredulity toward
metanarratives,"1 and this is as good a definition as we get from within the
ranks of postmodernism, as long as it is understood to mean an incredulity
toward all metanarratives. (Of course Lyotard will officially deny that
postmodernism is a metaphysical thesis.) In this article, I will attempt to
develop a set of critical reflections on the philosophical basis of
postmodernism, and postmodernist thinking generally.
I believe that a careful examination of the philosophical basis of
postmodernism is the most important question a serious thinker can raise
about postmodernism; if this question is ignored, or treated superficially,
then the application of postmodernist ideas to philosophical issues and texts,
to questions and issues in other disciplines, and to social, political and
educational agendas will be greatly undermined. (All college courses which
are dealing with postmodernism should discuss this question.) My article
will be an attempt to develop a set of critical reflections on the philosophical
foundations of postmodernism focusing, in particular, on the work of the
French philosopher, Jacques Derrida. Derrida's philosophy is often
described as "deconstruction," and I consider his philosophy an ideal
representative of postmodernist philosophy in general. I will, therefore, use
the terms "deconstruction" and "postmodernism" synonymously for the
purposes of this article.
I will illustrate that Derrida's claim that texts--especially
philosophical texts--need to be deconstructed, according to the method he
proposes, is easily shown to be fraught with serious difficulties. These
difficulties will be illustrated partly by means of an analysis of Derrida's
deconstructionist reading of Plato. I will then present and develop five
criticisms of postmodernism: first, that it confuses aesthetics with
metaphysics; second, that it mistakes assertion for argument in philosophy;
third, that it is guilty of relativism; fourth, that it is self-contradictory; and,
fifth, that it is guilty of intellectual arrogance because its proponents seem to
insist that its critique of traditional philosophy can still succeed even though
its positive claims have not been established.
I. THE POSITIVE CLAIMS OF POSTMODERNISM
The main thesis of Derrida's position, as I understand it, can be
stated in the following way. Western philosophers have been mistaken in
their belief that being is presence, and the key to understanding presence is
something along the lines of substance, sameness, identity, essence, clear
and distinct ideas, etc. For, according to Derrida, all identities, presences,
predications, etc., depend for their existence on something outside
themselves, something which is absent and different from themselves. Or
again: all identities involve their differences and relations; these differences
and relations are aspects or features outside of the object--different from it,
yet related to it--yet they are never fully present. Or again: reality itself is a
kind of "free play" of différance (a new term coined by Derrida); no
identities really exist (in the traditional sense) at this level; identities are
3
simply constructs of the mind, and essentially of language.2
In order to elaborate these points further, it is helpful to distinguish
in Derrida's work between two realms, the realm of reality (or of différance),
and the realm of identities (or of predication and presence). Derrida believes
that there are no identities, no self-contained presences, no fixed, settled
meanings at the level of différance. Further, the realm of différance is
non-cognitive; i.e., it cannot be fully captured or described by means of any
set of concepts, or logical system which makes objects "present" to the mind.
Derrida makes this point well in Margins of Philosophy: "It is the
domination of beings that différance everywhere comes to solicit . . . to
shake . . . it is the determination of being as presence that is interrogated by
the thought of différance. Différance is not. It is not a present being. It
governs nothing, reigns over nothing, and nowhere exercises any authority . .
. There is no essence of différance."3
Yet, according to Derrida, although the realm of différance is noncognitive, it never occurs without cognitive knowledge (the realm of
presence). This is because our contact with it in human experience, our
involvement with it through language, always takes place by means of
concepts, or predication.4 And this is simply to say that all knowledge is
contextual in the sense that the relations of an object in any system of objects
or meanings are always changing (differing), and hence meaning (i.e.,
identity) is continually being postponed (i.e., deferred). The realm of
différance is appropriately conveyed or expressed in philosophical works by
means of metaphor because it is the nature of metaphor to signify without
signifying, and this illustrates nicely Derrida's point that an identity is what it
is not and is not what it is. Derrida skillfully employs many different and
often striking metaphors to make this same point repeatedly: margins, trace,
flow, archi-writing, tain of the mirror, alterity, supplement, etc. We must
now consider what all of this means for the task of evaluating particular
worldviews, and for the practice of textual analysis.
To relate all of this to the issue of worldviews (especially the
worldview of traditional philosophy), and to express these points in more
down to earth language, what the postmodernists are saying is that no
particular worldview can claim to have the truth. All worldviews can be
called into question (including the worldview of deconstruction itself, a point
to which I will return later). The reason all worldviews can be called into
question is because the meanings which are constitutive of a worldview
cannot be known to be true objectively. This is because there is no objective
knowledge. All knowledge is contextual and is influenced by culture,
tradition, language, prejudices, background beliefs, etc., and is therefore, in
some very important sense, relative to these phenomena. The influence of
these phenomena on truth or meaning is not trivial or benign; it is such that it
inevitably undermines all claims to objectivity that one might be tempted to
make from the point of view of one's worldview. So the job of
4
deconstruction is to challenge and call into question all claims to objective
knowledge by illustrating alternative meanings and "truths" in any particular
worldview, which are really there whether the adherents of the worldview
recognize them or not. And these alternative meanings will undermine the
worldview in question, because they will be different from, and often
opposed to, the original, "objective" meanings claimed for that worldview.
Deconstruction, therefore, quickly lends itself to a political agenda
in the sense that worldviews are almost by definition oppressive since they
privilege some (literal) meanings and marginalize others; deconstruction thus
becomes the method for rejecting and debunking worldviews. Conversely, it
also allows those views and readings and alternative meanings which have
usually belonged to minority groups, and which have often been
marginalized, to reclaim their rightful place in the marketplace of ideas.
Note, however, that they do not reclaim their place because they are true (for
that would be to acknowledge objective knowledge), but because, since there
is no objective knowledge, they have just as much claim to legitimacy as any
other view. Of course, they too will have to be deconstructed in the end.
(This is a point many supporters of the deconstructionist approach
conveniently overlook; they frequently talk as if the marginal views are
somehow true, and the mainstream views somehow false.)
In the language of textual analysis, Derrida is proposing that there
are no fixed meanings present in the text, despite any appearance to the
contrary. Rather, the apparent identities (i.e., literal meanings) present in a
text also depend for their existence on something outside themselves,
something which is absent and different from themselves (i.e., they depend
on the operation of différance). As a result, the meanings in a text constantly
shift both in relation to the subject who works with the text, and in relation
to the cultural and social world in which the text is immersed. In this way,
the literal readings of texts, along with the intentions of the author, are called
into question by Derrida's view of identity. His position privileges writing as
opposed to speech and thought, for writing has a certain independence from
author and reader which gives a priority to ambiguity, non-literality, and
which frustrates the intentions of the author. As the French writer, Roland
Barthes, suggests, our concern must be to look at how texts mean, not at
what they mean.5 Derrida's thesis, however, is not restricted to books or art
works, for texts may consist of any set of ever-changing meanings. Hence,
the world, and almost any object or combination of objects in it, may be
regarded as a "text." Postmodernist philosophy is therefore very radical
indeed. Walt Anderson puts this very aptly when he says that
"Deconstruction goes well beyond [saying] right-you-are-if-you-think-youare; its message is closer to wrong you are whatever you think, unless you
think you may be wrong, in which case you may be right--but you don't
really mean what you think you do anyway."6
Now before we proceed to elaborate further just what Derrida's view
5
of identity entails, it is worth noting that postmodernist thinkers--in whose
number I would include Roland Barthes and Michel Foucault, in addition to
Lyotard and Derrida--have sometimes tried to avoid the change that they are
offering a philosophical theory about language and reality, and have tried to
insist that they are simply proposing a new method for reading texts. In
short, they would deny that they are making substantive or metaphysical
claims. In fact, some philosophers believe that Derrida should not be read as
making any substantive claims at all. This is a view advocated by Richard
Rorty.7
Rorty identifies two different ways in which Derrida has been read
by his American admirers. On one side are those who read him as a
"transcendental" philosopher, i.e., as a philosopher who gives us "rigorous
arguments for surprising philosophical conclusions."8 A transcendental
philosopher, therefore, is a philosopher who is making substantive claims
which are either true or false, and for which he offers arguments (and which,
if true, could possibly motivate social and political agendas). This is
obviously the way in which I am reading Derrida. On the other side,
according to Rorty, are those who see him as "having invented a new,
splendidly ironic way of writing about the philosophical tradition" which
"emphasizes the playful, distancing, oblique way in which Derrida handles
traditional philosophical figures and topics,"9 and which is not concerned
with the substance of his views. That is to say, Derrida can either be read in
the first way as a philosopher who is making substantive claims about
language and reality, or in the second way as a kind of dilettante who
experiments with texts. Rorty prefers to read Derrida in the second way. As
a philosopher, however, I see little value in reading Derrida in the second
way. Surely the most responsible option is to read him in the first way,
especially since this is how he is most often read? Indeed, this is the way in
which he must be read if his work is to provide philosophical support for
social and political conclusions. In short, I believe that Derrida has to be
taken at his word and read as a transcendental philosopher. But it is
important to note that if a thinker in any discipline opts to read Derrida in the
second way, then he or she cannot use his ideas to advocate educational,
political or social agendas; if however, one does wish to employ his ideas in
support of various agendas, then one is obliged to provide a philosophical
justification for these ideas. For example, if an English professor wishes to
deconstruct the texts of Jane Austen and read into them an analysis of the
oppression of women in the nineteenth century, then that professor would
have to begin this task with a philosophical justification of deconstruction.
Let me move on to elaborate and illustrate the points I have been making by
turning to Derrida's reading of Plato.
II. DERRIDA'S READING OF PLATO
6
Now reading Derrida as a transcendental philosopher, he holds that
all of the leading figures of Western "logocentricism"10 have been seduced
by the notion of being as presence. However, these philosophers fail to
appreciate the reality of différance which is really there, and which is
operative in their work whether they acknowledge it or not. What we must
now do, Derrida believes, is attempt to show how their texts, which attempt
to explain the nature of reality in terms of being as presence, actually
continually presuppose absence, différance, relations, etc., at every turn.
That is, we must "deconstruct" their texts.
I want now to illustrate how this is supposed to work in a particular
case; I wish to consider what a deconstructionist reading of a text actually
looks like. Here I will turn to an examination of one of Derrida's own
readings: the essay on Plato in his book Dissemination called "Plato's
Pharmacy." Now Plato is perhaps the "logocentric" philosopher par
excellence of the Western tradition; he carries a special guilt because he had
such a profound influence on the history of philosophy. Plato, of course, it
goes almost without saying, was attempting to present in his work a set of
metaphysical views about the nature of reality. His main themes are very
well known, and I will not bother to repeat them here. But Plato is firmly
within the metaphysics of presence, and argues at length for a whole
metaphysics of extra-linguistic truths of the type that, officially, Derrida
wishes to deconstruct.
In his essay, Derrida focuses in particular on Plato's dialogue,
Phaedrus, because at the end of the Phaedrus Plato explicitly criticizes
writing, and argues that it is inferior to pure thought and discussion, and that
reading and rhetoric are inferior to reasoning and dialectic. The Phaedrus
appears to be a quite appropriate text for Derrida to choose, because, as well
as dealing with some of Plato's main ideas, it also contains an explicit
criticism of writing, and argues for its inferiority to speech and thought. So
this text might be quite fertile ground for Derrida. Yet, as one examines
carefully Derrida's close reading of, and commentary on, Plato's text, his
approach has three features which it is important to identify. First, a
significant number of statements in Derrida's 100+ page essay simply make
the point that Plato does privilege literal readings (which Derrida identifies
with speech) over non-literal readings (which Derrida identifies with
writing). In doing this, Derrida's reading is quite misleading, in that he
makes so obvious a point in such a laborious and ceremonial way. Thus,
much of the essay is given over to establishing what no-one wishes to deny,
i.e., that Plato is within the metaphysics of presence.
Second, Derrida continually makes the point that Plato (and indeed
his translators and commentators) ignores the fact that différance is the way
things really are, which means that there are always ambiguities in his texts
which Plato passes over in favor of what we will call "the literal meaning" of
language and thought. However, this is a point which Derrida simply asserts
7
over and over again; nowhere does he provide any reasons or arguments
aimed at convincing us that we should accept this view. (I will illustrate this
point later in the article.) Third, interwoven throughout the repeated making
of this claim are concrete suggestions and illustrations by Derrida of how
Plato's text might be read in ways other than the literal one. Now let me
briefly turn to the two main examples Derrida employs to deconstruct Plato's
text, examples he uses to illustrate the operation of différance in Plato's text.
These examples will allow me to illustrate further these three points.
One of the words Derrida spends a lot of time with is the Greek
word pharmakon which can mean either "cure" or "poison." Derrida points
out that since this word is initially ambiguous, it becomes necessary to
specify a particular meaning, or identity, for it based on the context in which
we find it. For example, in the Phaedrus the story is told of how the god
Theuth tried to sell his wares to King Thamus of Egypt. Now one of
Theuth's wares is writing, which he promotes as a cure against memory loss,
and as a significant aid in the quest for knowledge. The king, however, is
not impressed, and criticizes writing. He is expressing Plato's view when he
says that writing will have a detrimental effect on memory, and will cut
students off from their teachers, and so from truth. Derrida's point appears to
be that both Theuth and the King see writing as a pharmakon, but Theuth
means by this that it is a cure, whereas the king (and Plato) regards it as a
poison. Derrida asserts that until Plato imposes an interpretation here, the
meaning is ambiguous. Derrida wants us to agree that, in reality, if we might
put it like that, ambiguity is primary, and identity is secondary, imposed,
oppressive, and is exclusionary of other possibilities. The ambiguity,
according to Derrida, always asserts itself when a new reader engages with
the text; and, in Plato's case, it asserts itself when a translator is confronted
by words like pharmakon. So, according to Derrida, Plato "decides in favor
of a logic that does not tolerate such passages between opposing senses of
the same word. . . ."11 Plato, in short, could have embraced the free play of
meanings and oppositions present in his text (i.e., différance); instead, he
tried to suppress these oppositions, alternative interpretations, ambiguities,
puns, metaphors, etc., in favor of a "literal" meaning. This was his mistake,
and this is why he needs to be deconstructed.
Let me take a second example from this essay. Here we turn to the
word pharmakos, which refers to a "scapegoat" in Greek religion. This is an
excellent example with which to illustrate Derrida's method of
deconstruction, and it will also allow us later on to identify a problem with
the application of the method. Although the word pharmakos does not
actually appear in Plato's text, Derrida believes that this notion of the
scapegoat is suggested by the text because of its close association with the
word pharmakon, and because there are a number of possible meanings
linked to the concept of scapegoat in Plato's text.
Derrida reveals some of these other possible meanings; for example,
8
the scapegoat suggests being inside the city, and being outside too, because
the Greeks used to sacrifice the scapegoat and expel it from the city in a
purifying ceremony. It could be seen as both a remedy for the city's wellbeing, and a kind of poison too which had to be expelled. The notion of
pharmakos, the scapegoat, is also closely connected with Socrates, as Yoav
Rinon has insightfully pointed out.12 First, Socrates was born on the day of
the scapegoat's expulsion; second, he himself was a kind of scapegoat,
essential to the city, yet executed. He was both citizen and outsider; his
personality was also a realization of the unity of contradictions: he was
honored and despised, loved and hated, close and at a distance, knowing all
and knowing nothing, alive and dead, a remedy and a poison.
Again, Derrida's point is that all of these links are possible readings
of Plato's text, readings which Plato did not intend, but which are really
there; "all these significations appear nonetheless,"13 as Derrida puts it. It is
interesting to note that while Derrida wants to conclude from this
deconstruction that there does not exist "a Platonic text, closed upon itself,
complete with its inside and outside"14; nevertheless he wants to suggest that
all these possible readings are suggested by the text itself, and because of this
they are somehow legitimate readings. By claiming that these meanings are
linked to Plato's text in a way which can be illustrated in the process of
deconstruction, Derrida wishes to place a limit on how far one can go with a
deconstruction of a text. In particular, he wants to avoid saying that one can
just make up meanings that have no connection with the text at all.
Presumably, readings, interpretations, and meanings not suggested by the
text itself would be unacceptable.
III. FIVE CRITICAL PROBLEMS FACING DECONSTRUCTION
1) Deconstruction confuses aesthetics with metaphysics: The first
critical point to note is that a deconstructionist reading is not, at least as
Derrida practices it, a reading where any type of reading is permissible. Yet,
it does involve "shaking texts" to make them shudder and reveal alternative
meanings to the literal meaning, and it is easy to see how this approach
might sanction any type of reading. For it is very difficult to see how one
could place a control on the method of deconstruction to rule out any
suggested "link" to a text. What is to prevent a reader from producing any
meaning they wish from a text? What is to prevent a reader, for example,
from concluding that the word pharmakos (the scapegoat) suggests that Plato
himself is a scapegoat, say Aristotle's scapegoat? The difficulty lies in the
fact that it will be problematic for Derrida to dictate that a particular
meaning is not legitimate, for how can he judge the experiences, background
beliefs, and interests of the reader who produces the reading? I will return to
this point in a moment. Second, Derrida wishes to identify alternative
readings in "Plato's Pharmacy" in order to illustrate that other readings are
9
possible. Yet it seems to me that one can grant this point, and still hold that
it fails to establish Derrida's main claim. His main claim, as we have seen, is
that the literal meaning of a text is not the legitimate one.
It seems that by simply showing how a text could be read in
different ways to the way the author intended, one does not demonstrate that
the literal meaning is not the main meaning, nor, more generally, that
meaning must be forever deferred, or that all texts need to be deconstructed.
In short, the fact that we can force alternative meanings out of texts like
Plato's Phaedrus may have aesthetic significance (and it may not), but it
does not seem to follow from this that it also has metaphysical significance.
Derrida is simply confusing a possible (and undoubtedly controversial)
approach to the aesthetics of a text (or set of meanings) with the
metaphysical implications of the text.
To put this key point in a slightly different way: Derrida appears to
be guilty of making the logically fallacious move from the premise that the
reader can (after much inventiveness and painstaking analysis) read texts in
ways other than the literal one, to the conclusion that this is how the reader
ought to read texts, or, more generally, to the conclusion that there are no
literal meanings, or that there is no truth present in a text. The first point
may be of aesthetic significance, as I have said, but no metaphysical
conclusions follow from it. However, it is metaphysical conclusions which
Derrida and his disciples are supposed to be establishing.
2) Deconstruction confuses assertion with argument: This is a
particularly egregious mistake frequently (and often arrogantly) made by the
proponents of deconstruction. Derrida is making, as we have seen, a
metaphysical claim about the nature of language and meaning: that there are
no trans-historical meanings or essences, and that all texts can be
deconstructed. However, any close reading of any of Derrida's major works
reveals, I believe, that he does not attempt to argue for this claim; rather, he
simply asserts it over and over again.
For example, in the essay on Plato which we discussed above, he is
supposed to be illustrating that his claims about identity and différance are
correct. According to Derrida, Socrates seeks self-knowledge, but he then
adds that such knowledge is not transparent, that it must be "interpreted,
read, deciphered."15 However, this is an assertion, not an argument. It does
nothing to convince the reader who believes self-knowledge is transparent
and that Socrates's meaning is perfectly clear and that, although alternative
readings might be possible, they are not legitimate. On pages 70-71, when
discussing Socrates's story of how the maiden was playing with Pharmacia,
but was swept to her death by the wind, Derrida points out that the word
Pharmacia also signifies the administration of the pharmakon, the drug
(which literally can mean either cure or poison). He then claims that "this
pharmakon, this `medicine' . . . already introduces itself into the body of the
discourse with all its ambivalence" (p.70). Derrida then goes on to
10
repeatedly call the text the pharmakon. Again, no argument is offered for
this. He might claim in his defense (although he does not) that he simply
chooses to emphasize the ambiguity of the word here, but the problem with
this move is that it does not prevent me from choosing to avoid ambiguity in
favor of literality, and, even more important, it does nothing to convince us
that we ought to privilege the ambiguous reading.
Again (on page 85), following up on his previous assertions, Derrida
says that Plato is constrained by the logic of identity--by the standard
oppositions of logic and reality ("speech/writing, life/death, . . .
inside/outside, . . . seriousness/play," etc.). He then proceeds to make a more
abstract claim: "History--has been produced in its entirety in the
philosophical difference between mythos and logos" (p.86). He claims on
p.96 that the word pharmakon is caught in a "chain of significations," and
that these significations go on working in spite of Plato's intentions. As he
puts it, "Plato can not see the links, can leave them in the shadow or break
them up. And yet these links go on working of themselves. In spite of him?
thanks to him? in his text? outside the text? but then where? between his
text and the language? for what reader? at what moment?" (p.96). Of
course, these significations only go on working because Derrida is forcing
alternative meanings out of the text. He says that one can suppress16 these
alternative meanings if one wishes, yet they are still present in the text. His
point is that this ambiguity precedes Plato's decision in favor of literality-"Plato decides in favor of a logic that does not tolerate such passages
between opposing senses of the same word . . ." (pp.98-99). Translations are
also guilty of imposing literality on a text, or on a set of meanings. What
actually happens, Derrida asserts, is that the text defers the meaning, and so
the clear distinctions of Plato are thus blurred--`either/or' turns out to be
`both/and.' He emphasizes that oppositions assert themselves in meaning,
and, after repeating this point ad nauseam, he concludes by restating his
main thesis: "Non-presence is presence. Différance, the disappearance of any
originary presence, is at once the condition of possibility and the condition
of the impossibility of truth" (p.168).
All he has done here, I am suggesting, is to assert his main points
over and over again; he offers no argument or reasons for why we should
accept these points as true. One will search in vain for any discussion of the
natures of language, intentionality, meaning, knowledge or truth aimed at
convincing the reader that Derrida's key assertions are true. It is for this
reason that one cannot help being suspicious of the obscure writing style that
is typical of postmodernism, especially of Derrida's own work. Derrida
asserts his main theses about language and reality, about texts and their
meanings, every few pages in most of his main works, usually beneath layers
of rapidly changing, and often barely penetrable, metaphors, double and
triple meanings, multiple references, puns, imaginative and often shocking
imagery. Although this writing style is very difficult to penetrate (and
11
indeed is very clever and creative), I submit that interwoven throughout
Derrida's many readings of philosophical texts lurks mainly this one
substantive claim repeated over and over again, and that once one discerns
his philosophical style, one can read his work quite easily.
If Derrida continues to insist that he is not proposing a metaphysical
thesis he must show why not. He simply cannot make what for all the world
appears to be a set of metaphysical claims about language, meaning, and
textual analysis and yet claim that they are not metaphysical claims without
explaining why not. This mistake of confusing assertion with argument is
also very common in the work of Derrida's disciples.17
3) Deconstruction is guilty of relativism: This is probably one of the
most trenchant criticisms of deconstruction, and explains why
deconstructionist thinkers do all in their power to avoid this charge, and bury
their points under mountains of obscure language and terminology. But it is
fair to say that deconstruction is guilty of both epistemological and moral
relativism.
It is interesting to probe this issue by asking the question of whether
or not a deconstructionist reading of a text could fail, or be wrong, on
Derrida's view? Would it be possible to deconstruct a text incorrectly?; to
offer an interpretation which was not legitimate? For example, when
teaching Plato's Euthyphro, suppose a professor proposed the interpretation
that Euthyphro was really playing with Socrates; that he knows the answer to
Socrates's questions all along, and fully understands the distinction between
morality and religion, but thinks that Socrates's views on these matters are
silly, so he deliberately leads Socrates on so that he can later ridicule him to
his friends. Or suppose that we read Huckleberry Finn as proposing the
view that Jim is a racist. Or that Huck is a racist. Or that the novel is not
about racial issues at all, but is really about the Mississippi river, which is a
metaphor for life. Or suppose we decide to read Charles Dickens' novels as
being primarily about child abuse. The question is: are these readings
acceptable? It is obvious that this is a crucial question.
If a deconstructionist reading of a text could not fail, this seems to
imply that any reading of a text is legitimate, and if it could fail, which (we
now know from our reading of "Plato's Pharmacy") is Derrida's official
answer to our question, then yet again we are constrained by the metaphysics
of presence. For we have seen that Derrida believes that alternative readings
must still have genuine links to the text. So a "correct" deconstructionist
reading implies that there are certain readings which are legitimate, and
certain readings which are not legitimate. When we work with a text, we
must reveal only the legitimate readings. There is a right and a wrong way
to read texts for Derrida after all, it is just a little bit more elastic than the
traditional right way. But this pair of identities illustrates again that we are
unable to avoid the metaphysics of presence. Now if Derrida claims that
when we read texts our only task is to reveal the operation of différance in
12
the text--which means that we cannot privilege the literal meaning--he is still
claiming that there is a right way and a wrong way to read texts, and so is
still undermining his position that all readings can be deconstructed. But it
is fuzziness about just these kinds of issues which has rightly earned Derrida
and his disciples the reputation for advocating the view that meaning, and
standard logic and rationality, are arbitrary.
Let us briefly glance back at the suggestions I made for alternative
readings of well-known texts. Suppose that instead of saying that
Huckleberry Finn is about the Mississippi River, which is a metaphor for
life, we said that the novel is about the Mississippi River, and the river is a
metaphor for the oppression of worldviews, especially unconventional
worldviews. One can see immediately how this interpretation would appeal
to deconstructionist thinkers because it supports their political agenda. In
short, they might be inclined to accept this reading as legitimate. Or to put it
another way: this is the kind of alternative reading which they would likely
come up with themselves, or which they would support. However, this
thought experiment illustrates the nature of the difficulty for the
deconstructionist. This reading has no more legitimacy than any other
reading if any reading is permissible; it cannot be morally better, or textually
more appropriate, or philosophically more acceptable than the other
alternatives I mentioned. The only reason a group might work with this
reading is that it supports their biases and prejudices and interests, which
have been formed by their culture and tradition and personal situation, but
which are not objectively true. Hence, deconstruction is committed to moral
relativism in the sense that no set of meanings is morally preferable to any
other, and it is committed to epistemological relativism because any reading
of a text can be shown to be legitimate. If on the other hand, to avoid this
difficulty, postmodernist thinkers insist that their reading or interpretation is
right or true or better than other alternatives, then they are recognizing a
realm of objective truth, which undermines the whole project of
deconstruction. Further, and just as important, if they choose this latter
option they are now obliged to debate with others who agree that there is a
realm of objective truth, but who disagree with the deconstructionists about
its nature. These difficulties usually leave deconstructionists with an
inconsistent relativism, and it is no wonder that they do their best to
obfuscate this fact. This prompts us to state this inconsistency more
explicitly.
4) Deconstruction is self-contradictory: Let me turn now to the selfcontradictory nature of deconstruction. The two realms of presence and of
différance identified by Derrida are part of his overall view (his objective,
"God's eye" view) of how things really are. They are supposed to reveal to
us what is really the case, or how objects really stand. The realm of
différance, in particular, informs us that objects are never self-contained,
never self-identical, never contain their essence simply within themselves,
13
but are always essentially "influenced" by those other "objects" in the system
(whatever this could possibly mean in practice). But since this "influencing"
is constantly changing and being deferred, meaning, and hence any identities
or presences or literal meanings which emerge in and through meaning, are
never the whole story. However, if all this is the case, then, for Derrida, it
would be true to say that reality is différance, and not presence. This point is
nicely supported by the fact that Derrida's works are full of substantive (or
metaphysical) claims about the natures of language and meaning, e.g.,
"Writing can never be totally inhabited by the voice."18 Or: "The trace is
nothing, it is not an entity, it exceeds the question What is? and contingently
makes it possible."19 Or: ". . . the notions of property, appropriation and selfpresence, so central to logocentric metaphysics, are essentially dependent on
an oppositional relation with otherness. In this sense, identity presupposes
alterity."20 These are the literal meanings which Derrida wishes us to take
away from his texts. This point is further confirmed in the work of Derrida's
disciples, which is also replete with metaphysical claims; Jasper Neel, for
example, illustrates this very aptly indeed when he says "Plato is wrong and
Derrida is right."21
The contradiction is obvious: if we ought to read Plato according to
the principles of deconstruction, then this is a metaphysical claim about the
nature of knowledge, and Derrida is contradicting his general view that there
is no one legitimate method for reading and interpreting texts. Or, on the
other hand, if he says that the deconstruction of Plato is only a suggestion,
one possibility among others, then we are (metaphysically) free to reject it,
and there is nothing wrong with privileging literal meanings after all. But
this too is a contradiction because he has been trying to persuade us that we
should not privilege literal meanings.
This is a straightforward logical difficulty with the philosophy of
deconstruction. Deconstructionists sometimes reply to this point by saying
that their theory is not vulnerable to logical criticisms because logic itself is
precisely what is being called into question, at least at the beginning of the
enquiry. Since they are calling logic into question, they are not answerable
to logical objections. However, this is clearly a question-begging move. For
it is exactly this point about logic which Derrida and his disciples are
supposed to be establishing. This conclusion can only come (if it comes at
all) at the end of the enquiry. One cannot assume its truth in the premises of
the argument without begging the question. I believe that this logical
problem is insurmountable, and provides a reason for why some
philosophers like Rorty are propelled toward a wholescale relativism of the
Derridean variety. (Whether they actually maintain this relativism
consistently, especially in the ethical domain, is another question, of course.)
Derrida is well known for making the claim that it is possible to
deconstruct his own work. But this claim must be understood in the context
of the above critical discussion. For this can only mean (a) that different
14
concepts, metaphors, etc., could be employed to illustrate the reality of
différance, but it cannot mean (b) that différance might not be the way things
really are. That is to say, he can only mean by claiming that his own work
can be deconstructed that the substantive points he is making about
deconstruction could be expressed or illustrated in a different way (which is
really a trivial point). But he cannot mean that we could read his works and
deconstruct them in such a way as to conclude that his metaphysical or
substantive claims about how texts ought to be read (and about language and
reality) are not true. For if we could read Derrida in this way, then we would
be free to reject the deconstructionist approach to texts, and adopt the
traditional approach!
5) Deconstruction is guilty of intellectual arrogance because its
proponents insist that their main claims can still have the import of truth
even if the claims are false: This last criticism is very nicely illustrated in
some remarks by Lawrence Cahoone. I quote him here because his approach
will help to bring some of the points I have been making together, and it also
illustrates the totally question-begging nature of postmodernist philosophy.
Here is Cahoone commenting on some of the criticisms levelled at
postmodernism:
The charge of self-contradiction is an important one; nevertheless, it is a purely
negative argument that does nothing to blunt the criticisms postmodernism makes of
traditional inquiry. The sometimes obscure rhetorical strategies of postmodernism
make sense if one accepts its critique of such inquiry. To say then that the
postmodern critique is invalid because the kind of theory it produces does not meet
the standards of traditional or normal inquiry is a rather weak counterattack. It says
in effect that whatever critique does not advance the interests of traditional inquiry
is invalid. The same charge was made against the very patron saint of philosophy,
Socrates, whose infernal questioning, it was said, led to nothing positive and
practical, undermined socially important beliefs, and could not justify itself except
for his eccentric claim to be on a mission from God (in Plato's Apology). So, while
the threat of self-contradiction does raise a serious problem for postmodernism, one
that would prevent postmodernism from regarding itself as valid in the way
traditional philosophies hope to be, that fact does nothing to show that normal
inquiry is immune to its critique. Postmodernism raises a serious challenge which
cannot be so easily dismissed. Whether it is right, is, of course, another matter, and
22
one that is up to the reader to decide.
What is very revealing about Cahoone's position is that he obviously believes
that even though deconstruction may be contradictory, it can still function as
an effective critique of traditional philosophy! This kind of claim is
obviously false, and represents yet another slight of hand from the
deconstructionists. It is true that the charge of self-contradiction is mostly a
negative argument, but this is appropriate because it still demonstrates that
deconstruction is either contradictory or relativistic, as I have explained
15
above, and these are both excellent reasons for rejecting it. It is a
devastating counter-attack, not a rather weak one. Or does Cahoone think
that if he supports a self-contradictory or a relativistic philosophy, he does
not have to defend it, and that the burden of proof is on his opponents?
Cahoone suggests that because traditional philosophy insists on
standards of logic and rationality, it cannot offer a serious attack on
postmodernism. Now why is this? Is it because postmodernism rejects
traditional standards of logic and rationality? I hope I have shown above
that this claim is totally unconvincing because it is asserted and not argued
for, and is simply question-begging. Or is it because truth is relative (which
would also include logic and rationality in this case)? This move is also
question-begging because this is what Cahoone is supposed to establish, so
he cannot assume it in his critique of traditional philosophy. (Further, of
course, postmodernists usually try to deny that truth is relative.) It is also
suggestive to note the rhetoric employed by Cahoone. Instead of talking
about "the traditional standards of logic and rationality," he talks about
"advancing the interests of traditional inquiry" thereby trying to carry his
argument by invoking well-established contemporary rhetoric, which
suggests oppression and exclusion. Cahoone is clearly saying that the
postmodernist critique of traditional philosophy can function even if
postmodernism turns out to be contradictory. This again is a good
illustration of how the postmodernists want to have their cake and eat it: they
want to avoid offering any argument in support of their main claims (because
these claims are indefensible, for the reasons I have explained above), and
yet claim that their philosophical results are still valid.
In general, deconstructionist thinkers avoid facing up to these
critical points I have raised above, and often try to dodge them. It is virtually
impossible to find a mainstream work in deconstructionist philosophy which
acknowledges these difficulties, and tries to deal with them, like any honest
thinker should. Postmodernists know very well that their work is open to
charges of self-contradiction, relativism, lack of philosophical foundation
and intellectual arrogance, and since these positions are notoriously difficult
to defend, it is not surprising that they try to deflect the clear light of reason
from landing on their ideas. They do this by adopting a very obscure and
almost impenetrable writing style, and it is no wonder that this style makes
many philosophers suspicious that what we are really seeing here is the
King's new clothes between the covers! But there is a very serious point
here, which I will state in the form of two questions (with which I will
conclude): is it not intellectually irresponsible to avoid facing up to
legitimate and often-raised criticisms of one's ideas by serious thinkers?
And, lastly, should we--can we--take a philosophy seriously that refuses to
do so?
16
ENDNOTES
1. The Postmodern Condition: A Report on Knowledge (Minneapolis:
University of Minnesota Press, 1984) p. xxiv.
2. Derrida's major works include: Speech and Phenomena and Other Essays
in Husserl's Theory of Signs, trans. by D. B. Allison (Evanston:
Northwestern U.P., 1973); Of Grammatology, trans. by G. Spivak
(Baltimore: Johns Hopkins, 1976); Writing and Difference, trans. by A. Bass
(Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1978); Dissemination, trans. by B.
Johnson (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1981); Margins of
Philosophy, trans. by A. Bass (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1982);
Glas, trans. by J.P. Leavey, Jr. and R. Rand (Lincoln: University of
Nebraska Press, 1986). See also a series of interviews with Derrida in
Positions, trans. by A. Bass (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1981).
For a brief but helpful synopsis of Derrida's major works by S. Critchley and
T. Mooney, see Twentieth Century Continental Philosophy, ed. Richard
Kearney (London: Routledge, 1994) pp. 460-467.
3. Margins of Philosophy, pp. 21-25. See also Derrida's remarks in his
interview with Richard Kearney in Kearney's Dialogues with Contemporary
Continental Thinkers (Manchester: Manchester U.P., 1984) p. 110-111, and
p. 117.
4. See Writing and Difference, pp. 112-113. The fact that the realm of
différance never occurs without cognitive knowledge also means that we are
imprisoned in language, an implication of his thought which Derrida wishes
to resist (see R. Kearney, Dialogues with Contemporary Continental
Thinkers, p. 123). But if all identities are constructs of the mind, and we
cannot operate without identities in our discourse and language, then it
seems to follow that we are imprisoned in language. To look at the issue
from another angle, if, as Derrida believes, there are no identities beyond
language, for all practical purposes this amounts to the same thing as saying
that there is nothing beyond language.
5. As described by John Sturrock in Structuralism and Since, ed. John
Sturrock (Oxford: Oxford U.P., 1979) p. 58.
6. Reality Isn't What it Used to Be (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1990) p.
87.
17
7. See "Is Derrida a Transcendental Philosopher?," Working Through
Derrida, ed. Gary B. Madison (Evanston: Northwestern U.P., 1993) pp.
137-146.
8. Ibid., p. 137.
9. Ibid.
10. See Of Grammatology, pp. 10-18, and p. 43, for a discussion of
"logocentricism."
11. Dissemination, pp. 98-99.
12. See Yoav Rinon, "The Rhetoric of Jacques Derrida I: Plato's Pharmacy,"
Review of Metaphysics 46 (1992) pp. 369-386, and Yoav Rinon, "The
Rhetoric of Jacques Derrida II: Phaedrus," Review of Metaphysics 46 (1993)
pp. 537-558. It is instructive to compare Rinon's reading with Christopher
Norris's in his Derrida (Cambridge: Harvard U.P., 1987) pp. 28-45.
13. Dissemination, p. 129.
14. Ibid., p. 130.
15. Ibid., p. 69.
16. Again, the concept of suppression suggests that to ignore these meanings
is morally inappropriate.
17. For other examples of Derrida's failure to provide an argument to support
his radical assertions, see Writing and Difference, pp. 178-181; pp. 278-282;
Of Grammatology, pp. 6-15; pp. 30-38; pp. 44-50; Margins of Philosophy,
pp. 1-27; pp. 95-108; pp. 209-219. (Derrida's ambivalence between
repetition/demonstration is interestingly alluded to in Positions, p. 52.) The
same problem is obvious in much of the secondary literature on Derrida. As
an illustration, see Christopher Norris, Derrida, especially Chapters Two and
Three. See also Jonathan Culler's essay on Derrida in Structuralism and
Since, ed. John Sturrock (Oxford: Oxford U.P., 1979) pp. 154-180. Culler's
essay presents a well-organized, clear and readable overview of Derrida's
major theses about language, reality, meaning and textual analysis, but offers
no arguments or reasons for why we should accept these claims as true or at
least plausible. Dallas Willard argues forcefully in a recent essay that
Derrida's view of intentionality is similarly afflicted by the absence of
supporting reasons and argument. Willard illustrates that it is not so much
that Derrida's account of intentionality is wrong as that it is really no account
18
at all of intentionality. See Dallas Willard, "Predication as Originary
Violence: A Phenomenological Critique of Derrida's View of Intentionality"
in Working Through Derrida, ed. Gary B. Madison, pp. 120-136.
18. Margins of Philosophy, p. 95.
19. Of Grammatology, p. 75.
20. Derrida is his interview with Richard Kearney in Kearney's Dialogues
with Contemporary Continental Thinkers, p. 117.
21. Plato, Derrida and Writing (Carbondale: Southern Illinois University
Press, 1988) p. xii.
22. From Postmodernism to Modernism: An Anthology (Oxford: Blackwell,
1995) p. 21. 22. The Postmodern Condition: A Report on Knowledge
(Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1984) p. xxiv.
22. Derrida's major works include: Speech and Phenomena and Other
Essays in Husserl's Theory of Signs, trans. by D. B. Allison (Evanston:
Northwestern U.P., 1973); Of Grammatology, trans. by G. Spivak
(Baltimore: Johns Hopkins, 1976); Writing and Difference, trans. by A. Bass
(Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1978); Dissemination, trans. by B.
Johnson (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1981); Margins of
Philosophy, trans. by A. Bass (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1982);
Glas, trans. by J.P. Leavey, Jr. and R. Rand (Lincoln: University of
Nebraska Press, 1986). See also a series of interviews with Derrida in
Positions, trans. by A. Bass (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1981).
For a brief but helpful synopsis of Derrida's major works by S. Critchley and
T. Mooney, see Twentieth Century Continental Philosophy, ed. Richard
Kearney (London: Routledge, 1994) pp. 460-467.
22. Margins of Philosophy, pp. 21-25. See also Derrida's remarks in his
interview with Richard Kearney in Kearney's Dialogues with Contemporary
Continental Thinkers (Manchester: Manchester U.P., 1984) p. 110-111, and
p. 117.
22. See Writing and Difference, pp. 112-113. The fact that the realm of
différance never occurs without cognitive knowledge also means that we are
imprisoned in language, an implication of his thought which Derrida wishes
to resist (see R. Kearney, Dialogues with Contemporary Continental
Thinkers, p. 123). But if all identities are constructs of the mind, and we
cannot operate without identities in our discourse and language, then it
seems to follow that we are imprisoned in language. To look at the issue
19
from another angle, if, as Derrida believes, there are no identities beyond
language, for all practical purposes this amounts to the same thing as saying
that there is nothing beyond language.
22. As described by John Sturrock in Structuralism and Since, ed. John
Sturrock (Oxford: Oxford U.P., 1979) p. 58.
22. Reality Isn't What it Used to Be (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1990)
p. 87.
7. See "Is Derrida a Transcendental Philosopher?," Working Through
Derrida, ed. Gary B. Madison (Evanston: Northwestern U.P., 1993) pp.
137-146.
22. Ibid., p. 137.
22. Ibid.
22. See Of Grammatology, pp. 10-18, and p. 43, for a discussion of
"logocentricism."
22. Dissemination, pp. 98-99.
22. See Yoav Rinon, "The Rhetoric of Jacques Derrida I: Plato's Pharmacy,"
Review of Metaphysics 46 (1992) pp. 369-386, and Yoav Rinon, "The
Rhetoric of Jacques Derrida II: Phaedrus," Review of Metaphysics 46 (1993)
pp. 537-558. It is instructive to compare Rinon's reading with Christopher
Norris's in his Derrida (Cambridge: Harvard U.P., 1987) pp. 28-45.
22. Dissemination, p. 129.
22. Ibid., p. 130.
22. Ibid., p. 69.
22. Again, the concept of suppression suggests that to ignore these meanings
is morally inappropriate.
22. For other examples of Derrida's failure to provide an argument to support
his radical assertions, see Writing and Difference, pp. 178-181; pp. 278-282;
Of Grammatology, pp. 6-15; pp. 30-38; pp. 44-50; Margins of Philosophy,
pp. 1-27; pp. 95-108; pp. 209-219. (Derrida's ambivalence between
repetition/demonstration is interestingly alluded to in Positions, p. 52.) The
same problem is obvious in much of the secondary literature on Derrida. As
20
an illustration, see Christopher Norris, Derrida, especially Chapters Two and
Three. See also Jonathan Culler's essay on Derrida in Structuralism and
Since, ed. John Sturrock (Oxford: Oxford U.P., 1979) pp. 154-180. Culler's
essay presents a well-organized, clear and readable overview of Derrida's
major theses about language, reality, meaning and textual analysis, but offers
no arguments or reasons for why we should accept these claims as true or at
least plausible. Dallas Willard argues forcefully in a recent essay that
Derrida's view of intentionality is similarly afflicted by the absence of
supporting reasons and argument. Willard illustrates that it is not so much
that Derrida's account of intentionality is wrong as that it is really no account
at all of intentionality. See Dallas Willard, "Predication as Originary
Violence: A Phenomenological Critique of Derrida's View of Intentionality"
in Working Through Derrida, ed. Gary B. Madison, pp. 120-136.
22. Margins of Philosophy, p. 95.
22. Of Grammatology, p. 75.
22. Derrida is his interview with Richard Kearney in Kearney's Dialogues
with Contemporary Continental Thinkers, p. 117.
22. Plato, Derrida and Writing (Carbondale: Southern Illinois University
Press, 1988) p. xii.
22. From Postmodernism to Modernism: An Anthology (Oxford: Blackwell,
1995) p. 21.
21