Showing posts with label Death. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Death. Show all posts

Sunday, September 18, 2011

Aporias: Jacques Derrida's Deconstruction of Heidegger's Being-towards-Death

Jacques Derrida’s deconstruction of Heidegger’s Being and Time

This small word, ‘as’, might well be the name of the true problem, not to say the target, of deconstruction –Jacques Derrida, “University without Condition”

Introduction

I believe (I am testifying) that this would have been a good one to read backwards, as I believed I knew where Derrida was going from the beginning and my own conclusions were confirmed when I reached the end (which remains in aporia). Here (because I must start from here, on this side of the border) I will merely try to summarize (say “in other words”—c.f. “Living On: Borderlines”) what I believe Derrida is (partially) trying to say.
           
I’d like to get at Derrida’s text in two, interrelated ways.

1.) Heidegger’s existential analysis as a fundamental ontology

2.) The question of Dasein and language with respect to” the human” and the animal

I. Fundamental Ontology

Heidegger is trying to elucidate universal structures of existence without slipping into metaphysical speculation. Heidegger’s project is to inquire into the meaning of being (as such), a question he believes we have forgotten. For instance, we use the word “is” but do we really know what it is to ‘exist’. For Heidegger, philosophy has been a history of being as presence; thus, being is a ‘thing’ rather than a mode of existence. Heidegger attempts to describe how even ‘being’ in a present-at-hand is actually derivative from a more originary ‘understanding’ that is constitutive of Dasein’s being (Being-there, usually understood to be what we would call “human existence”—although this is something he also puts into question).

However, Heidegger’s Being and Time is actually part of an incomplete project that Heidegger never ‘finished’, although the project was continued in later essays to figure the meaning of being “as such” and not just the being of Dasein (see pgs 63-64 for Heidegger’s outline of his entire project). In Sein und Zeit, Dasein was taken as an exemplarily instance of being. Heidegger writes, “This entity which each of us is himself and which includes inquiring as one of the possibilities of its Being, we shall denote by the term “Dasein” (Heidegger 27).

One of Derrida’ points is that Heidegger’s “existential analysis” claims a universality for Dasein, but because it is a historical text, conditioned by its time, it is already invaded by discourses of a particular culture. At the same time, however, it puts into question (and checks) the sort of naïve understanding of ‘death’ that is already assumed in anthropological and cultural discourses on death. In the most positive light possible, Thus, to a certain extent, Heidegger’s text serves as a “corrective” discourse to naïve statements of comparative religion taken up by Aries and Thomas, which argue that the West has displaced death, ignored death, and thus falls into a nostalgia for more ‘primitive’ cultures that seem to put death “in its right place” (Derrida 58). So, in this sense, “the existential analysis maintains itself well this side of all this foolish comparative predication” (58). But, again, at the same time, we must recognize Heidegger’s discourse as conditioned by cultural-historical events. In the case of Being and Time, this is the discourse of Christianity (even as Heidegger tries to separate himself from it). Derrida writes, “I’ll just say, without being able to go into it in any depth, that neither the language nor the process of this analysis of death is possible without the Christian experience, indeed, the Judeo-Christian-Islamic experience of death to which the analysis testifies” (80).

Derrida elaborates on this statement in “Faith and Knowledge” in Acts of Religion, noting that Heidegger’s concepts are inextricably tied up in Christian discourse: “conscience (Gewissen), originary responsibility or guilt (Schuldigsein) and Entschlossenheit (resolute determination)” and of course, we cannot forget “Verfallen” or “falling” (the ‘fallingness’ of the everyday)[1] (Derrida, “Faith and Knowledge,” 96). In this essay, Derrida takes up the question of Heidegger’s retaining of a notion of “sacredness” without the corresponding notion of ‘faith’ which falls short of true thinking (Der Glaube hat im Denken keinen Platz), but of course, the very concept of ‘authenticity’ and Bezeugung, ‘attestation’, involves a kind of belief and testimony.

Anyway, I am getting off track. Regardless, we see that Heidegger (and really, philosophy is general) seeks to escape the ‘accidental’ or ‘cultural’ contextual determination in order to get at the essential structures of human existence (or being in general). The kind of universal discourse is also sought in the anthropological studies, particularly Aries, when he speaks of the “more secret, more hidden motors, at the limit of the biological and the cultural, that is, at the limit of the collective unconscious” (47). But this concept of the collective unconscious is also a concept that came into being at a certain moment in history and thus will not be able to reveal the underlying structures of human existence, will it?

Although Derrida rigorously deconstructs Heidegger, he preserves the uniqueness of Being and Time by calling it an ‘event’: “The event of this interrupted book would be irreducible to these categories, indeed to the categories that Heidegger himself never stopped articulating [. . .] Being and Time would belong neither to science, nor to philosophy, nor to poetics” (Derrida 32). This is perhaps why many would consider Heidegger (and those in the continental tradition) non-philosophy—this work “surpasses the limits of the concept of itself” (Derrida 32).

So this is why I want to call Being and Time and Heidegger’s project a kind of “corrective” discourse to comparative religious/death discourses in other disciplines that seem to be less “fundamental.” Derrida ends in an aporetic fashion, “each of these two discourses on death is much more comprehensive than the other, bigger and smaller than what it tends to include or exclude, more and less originary, more and less ancient, young or old” (81). This is the kind of “anachrony” that we also saw in “Living On: Borderlines,” where Derrida affirms that these two texts “love each other” even though they may have no noticeable “influence” on one another, with one difference: I am not sure that Being and Time and the anthropological/historical discourses “love” each other in the same way. Derrida notes that Thomas’s work incorrectly attributes a quotation to Heidegger (26).

II. Heidegger, Language;  the Human, the Animal

When I explain to others what Heidegger means by “Dasein,” I translate it (There-Being, Being-There), try to explain how this is tied up in Heidegger notion of language (which is the possibility of a “world” in Heidegger’s sense) and then simply come down to it and say Dasein is the kind of being that “we” (me and you, mon frère) *are*. We are the beings that question the meaning of being and we do this in language and this sets us apart from animals. Heidegger’s discourse, then, has been considered incredibly “humanist” and “anthropocentric.” Heidegger seems (at times, at least when we paraphrase him) to want to maintain a clear line, a border-line, between human and animal and this borderline is exemplarized in the concept of “death.”

On an ‘ontical’ level, we tend to assume that animals are not “conscious of” their deaths in the same way that we are: we are aware that we are going to die and this seems to affect the way we are in the world. Furthermore, there does seem to be something about “language” that sets us apart from animals, although further scientific evidence is calling this into question. Heidegger makes a lot of “language” because language is in a way the condition for truth and also untruth; Derrida writes “according to Heidegger, there is no nontruth for the animal, just as there is no death and no language. Truth is the truth of nontruth and vice versa” (73). As Derrida also notes, Heidegger will elaborate on this in his later work, particularly in an essay called “On the Essence of Truth” (here, Heidegger presents the concept in this way: “Errancy and the concealing of what is concealed belong to the primordial essence of truth” (134)).

All this is to say that we generally consider Heidegger as making a clear distinction between mortal Dasein (as human being) and animal as that without language and therefore without a world. But Derrida is going to press this very distinction, and he’s going to press it hard and he’s going to press it and permeate it and penetrate it through Heidegger’s own text in true deconstructive form. Derrida makes a distinction between Dasein and ‘man’:

Dasein or the mortal is not man, the human subject, but it is that in terms of which the humanity of man must be rethought [. . .]  Heidegger never stopped modulating this affirmation according to which the mortal is whoever experiences death as such, as death. Since he links this possibility of the “as such” to the possibility of speech, he thereby concludes that the animal, the living thing as such, is not properly a mortal: the animal does not relate to death as such. The animal can come to an end, that is, perish (verenden) [. . .] But it can never properly die. (35)

But then, Derrida notes in another text that this connection/distinction is not always finalized: “It does not say that the experience granted to the mortal, of which the animal is incapable, depends on language” (36).

Rather than taking the usual route to the question of the animal—that is, don’t animal’s ‘have’ language too? Derrida instead asks if Heidegger’s distinction between perishing, dying, and dying “properly,” can hold and ultimately if human being (or Dasein) can even relate to death “as such.” The ‘death proper’ is the authentic death, the way of “dying well,” so to speak.

This inquiry hinges on a few very subtle, very complicated (read: we probably should read these passages closely in class) distinctions in Heidegger’s text concerning Heidegger’s claim that “Death is the possibility of the absolute impossibility of Dasein” (Heidegger 294). Now, we have to notice that this possibility of impossibility is different from the impossibility of possibility. This confusion has led me to mis-read Heidegger for several years. I must quote Derrida’s close reading in which he makes a crucial distinction verbatim:

Heidegger does not say “the possibility of no longer being able to be Dasein” but the “possibility of being able no longer to be there” or “of no longer being able to be there.” This is indeed the possibility of a being-able-not-to or of a no-longer-being-able-to, but by no means the impossibility of a being-able-to. (68)

The way I understand this distinction is that I used to think Heidegger’s notion of death in the naïve way: If Dasein’s ‘essence’ is its being-able-to (its possibility) then of course “death” is the impossibility of being-able-to because we are ‘dead’, no longer being-able-to do any particular thing—we cannot “be” our possibility any longer because we are dead—we no longer have the capacity to exist in this or that fashion because, for instance, we can no longer comport ourselves in such a way that we can use a hammer. But, according to Derrida’s distinction, this is not what Heidegger means at all. Derrida makes this clear later when he says that death “concerns the impossibility of existence itself and not merely the impossibility of this or that” (72).

I suspect that it is this distinction that is crucial to the rest of the Derrida’s deconstruction. However, at other points, it does seem like Heidegger understands death in the way I framed it above: “It [death] is the possibility of the impossibility of every way of comporting oneself toward anything, of every way of existing” (307). I’m not sure exactly how we could (and if we can) resolve these readings. Perhaps I am not getting Derrida’s “point” because I ignore the aporetic logic that constitutes a possible impossible. Maybe this is what Derrida is pointing out when he writes, “If death, the most proper possibility of Dasein, is the possibility of its impossibility, death becomes the most improper possibility and the most ex-propriating, the most inauthenticating one” (Derrida 77).

In a series of moves that I am not able to take up explicitly (hopefully this can be our task, our problem, our project that we take up in class) he comes to an important conclusion:

Although the innumerable structural differences that separate one ‘species’ from another should make us vigilant about any discourse on animality or bestiality in general, one can say that animals have a very significant relation to death, to murder, and to war even if they have neither a relation to death nor to the ‘name’ of death as such,, nor by the same token, to the other as such. But neither does man, that is precisely the point. (76)

I would like to explore how Derrida arrives at this remarkable conclusion, which also has implications for Heidegger’s claim that death is “my ownmost possibility”—that it is the most “proper” possibility. This claim of Heidegger is important because his claim is that it is death that individualizes me as me: “The non-relational character of death, as understood in anticipation, individualizes Dasein down to itself. This individualizing is a way in which the ‘there’ is disclosed for existence” (308). The key is that for Heidegger death individualizes non-relationally and Derrida is exposing that indeed, death cannot individualize “non-relationally.”

Derrida concludes, rather, echoing statements in his “Deaths of Roland Barthes,” that “the death of the other, this death of the other in ‘me’, is fundamentally the only death that is named in the syntagm ‘my death,’ with all the consequences that one can draw from this” (Derrida 76). If we agree with Derrida here, we can answer at least to a certain extent Derrida’s earlier question: “What if there was no other concept of time than the one that Heidegger calls “vulgar” [. . .] What if it was the same for death, for a vulgar concept of death?” (Derrida 14). The ‘vulgar’ concept of death is the death of the other, the “one dies,” which Heidegger says is inauthentic. Heidegger wants to maintain that there is a certainty of death from one’s own death (which individualizes) rather than merely certain of death because of the other’s dying. And can we even be certain of that?


PS:

A question we might explore is why Derrida invokes the name “Marrano” toward the ‘end’ of Derrida’s text: “Let us figuratively call Marrano anyone who remains faithful to a secret that he has not chosen” (81). Historically, as Derrida writes, “it is said that the history of the Marranos has just come to an end with the declaration by the Spanish court [in 1992]. You can believe that if you want to.” (77). The Marranos, according to the ever-useful Wikipedia refers to a Jewish people who publicly convert to Catholicism while secretly practicing their own rites—what are we to make of this odd reference? This intrusion of the question of religion, “the Jewish question,” in a discourse on Heidegger and the history of death, the religious culture that existential analysis tries to distinguish itself from [on “this side” rather than metaphysical speculation]: “What is analysis witness to? Well, precisely to that from which it demarcates itself, here mainly from the culture characterized by the so-called religions of the Book” (80).


[1] I personally love how the most recent translation of Sein Und Zeit tries to escape these Christian connotations of Maquerrie and Robinson’s translation (who, we should add, are theologians)  and of Heidegger’s discourse by translating “Verfallen” as “falling prey” to rather than simply “falling.” 

Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Jacques Derrida and Maurice Blanchot: Instant of My Death

Derrida's writing always asks for a response, just as his work is frequently contextualized as a response to a call for papers. The problem with responding to Derrida (rather than merely "using" him for our own purposes) is that his writing is hard to summarize and understand. This is the problem I see with a lot of literary criticism who use Derrida's critique of Saussure and then proceed to talk about the problem of "signification" in a given text.

Instead, Derrida's writing almost calls for a creative response, a response that somehow pays tribute to his method rather than his points. I'm not sure I am a strong enough writer to truly respond to Derrida's work.

Rather than appealing to experts on Blanchot, Derrida for the most part, uses Blanchot's other texts and his biography to make his points. Derrida has a personal relationship with Blanchot and so he wants to be faithful to the spirit of his work as a whole.

However, rather than begin directly with Blanchot, Derrida calls attention to his title and his rhetorical situation, citing something he had written about Paul De Man: "Funerary speech and writing would not follow upon death; they work on life in what we call autobiography. And this takes place between fiction and truth, Dichtung and Wahrheit" (16).

Dichtung is translated as "fiction," but Derrida wants to look at Warheit (truth) in terms of testimony. If
truth becomes testimony here, it is perhaps because as in Dichtung und Warheit, it will often be a question today of lies and truth: more precisely, of the biographical or autobiographical truthfulness of the witness who speaks of himself and claims to be recounting not only his life but his death, his quasi-ressurection, a sort of Passion. (16)
 This is how he gets into his topic of the "passions of literature." Derrida then detours (ish) into a discussion of the status of literature: is it particular or universal (as Goethe would have it)? Derrida answers: no. Even "literature" as a term is a latin word, an origin we cannot simply bypass. Derrida connects literature to death (a theme Blanchot takes up; thus, here, already, we see Derrida engaging Blanchot without engaging Blanchot) through a discussion of those authors who risk their lives in order to write literature (Rushdie, for example). This leads into a discussion of literature and politics and the judicial (bringing us back to testimony).

In all, we have these signifiers playing around each other: passion, religion, literature, death, fiction, testimony.

Rather than speaking of philosophy "as literature," which is what many people seem to think Derrida is claiming (collapsing the distinctions), Derrida here claims he wants to test the claim that "there is no essence or substance of literature: literature is not. It does not exist. It does not remain at home" (Derrida 20). Thus, literarity is not intrinsic to this or that artifact. Playing on a meaning of passion, Derrida argues that literature's "passion consists in this--that it receives its determination from something other than itself" (28).

Thus, Derrida suggests a kind of endless choice (that has no answer) to read something as testimony or as fiction. However, he then deconstructs this distinction.

Testimony and Fiction

Derrida argues that in order for testimony to remain testimony it "always goes hand in hand with at least the possibility of fiction, perjury, lie" (27). But Derrida doesn't make us take his word for this deconstruction.

Derrida attacks the distinction from two sides: the idea of the "instant" and the necessary diachrony of experience and the fact that to "bear witness" to something is the impossible task of making a secret public. 

Following his previous deconstructions of "presence," Derrida argues that the instant becomes divisible within testimony even though the assumption in testimony is that we testify to an instant. We must be physically present (in the courtroom, for example) to testify to an instant, but at the same time, it implies that we are testifying (at this very instant) to another instant, but this instant is divided by the temporal sequence of the testimony itself.

Furthermore, Derrida points out that testimony is always heard by a third person, a witnessing to the witness. In order for testimony to be "true" we have to assume an addressee that has sufficient mastery of the language (as well as an addressor) and that this person to whom the witness is testifying is "capable of the same mastery, that is, of hearing and translating in univocal fashion" (35). In other words, testimony involves interpretation and a decision (that may be without criteria) as to the 'truth' of the testimony. 

But testimony ideally cannot be reduced to a narrative (that is--a fiction?) Instead, Derrida argues, that testimony is always testifying to an act: "it does what it says at this very instant; it cannot essentially be reduced to narration" (Derrida 38). Derrida uses two examples. One i will modify for the sake of the language I am speaking: "I am speaking English." If I were to say "I am speaking French," (in English) then it would not be true. The English sentence, however,   performs what it says. Just as a martyr's testimony does not "tell a story," but rather offers his body. Testimony is an act.

Derrida then takes on a related word to "instant"--instance. Meaning, "exemplary." I think that this may be his strongest argument for how testimony's structure makes an impossibility necessary. In order to give testimony, I have to have had an experience that makes me irreplaceable. AND YET, my testimony has to be exemplary, that is, "anyone who in my place, at that instant, would have seen or heard or touched the same thing and could repeat exemplarily, universally, the truth of my testimony [. . .] The singular must be universal" (41).

Blanchot's Story

Blanchot's story, then, concerns the impossiblity of testifying to one's death. On one hand, I am the only one who could ever testify to my death--on the condition that I survive it (Derrida 45). But its not only that we can never testify to our death, we can also not testify to a previous experience because at every "instant" we are someone different. We cannot even replace ourselves, we cannot put ourselves back in that position: "And yet is there not a witness who must not say this, in all conscience, namely: 'At the moment of my attestation I am no longer the same as the witness who lived that and how remains irreplaceable" (Derrida 65). He cannot analyze what he experienced at the previous time (when he really was the "witness" to an event, but a witness to who? The bearing witness always involves another instant than the instant of my experience).

Like the passage we read from Specters of Marx, Derrida here is questioning the possibility of death, concluding that it is the "necessary impossible." We cannot testify to the instant of our death, only the imminence of our death, the death to come. Indeed, we can understand our lives as a perpetual dying--death is always to come. We know its coming, eventually. We do not know when. Furthermore, there does seem to be a 'general death' that is very different from Heidegger's sense of Being-Toward-Death, Jemeingskeit.

The narrator begins the story with the claim that the man was "prevented from dying by death itself" (3). This is not "his" death (is it?) but rather the death of another, which he bears responsibility for. Blanchot writes, "prevented from dying by death itself--and perhaps the error of injustice" (3). Derrida comments that "two orders" intersect the ethical and the epistemological even though the "remain incompatible" (54). The question of death is inevitably tied into the question of the ethical and the question of the (im)possiblity of justice.

The young man may have "saved himself" in one sense--that he was able to "move away" (not escape!). But on another level, "he has benefited from an injustice, and he will not case to suffer from this privilege. This torment will be the torment of an entire life, life as the torment of an injustice, as an inexpiable fault" (87). The "error" in injustice is his home, his abode (demeure)--the Chateau. By 'accident', by what Sartre would call his 'facticity', he is spared death, but is he spared dying? Is he spared a different kind of death? Is he ever spared death "in general"? No, he must suffer, he must undergo this suffering.

The "death" that the young man undergoes is the realization of his finitude, his substitutability. The "lightness" he experiences at the instant of his death "neither frees nor relieves of anything; it is neither a salvation through freedom nor an opening to the infinite because this passion is without freedom and this death without death is a conformation of finitude (Derrida 90).

This is the paradoxical condition that Derrida claims Blanchot gets at: a logic of a neither/nor, and "X without X." For instance, Blanchot writes in The Step Not Beyond: "To live without living, like dying without death: writing returns us to these enigmatic propositions" (Blanchot qtd. in Derrida 89). Indeed, we return to the "unexperienced experience." The 'experience' (that is not an experience) of literature remains an x without x. To read a novel, we have an "experience" without an experience--on both the side of the author and the reader! As Derrida writes,

It is on this condition (the condition of the possibility of fiction in experience) that we understand something of this narrative, to the extent that we understand anything at all about it [. . .] we only judge it to be readable, if it is, insofar as a reader can understand it, even if no such thing has ever "really" happenned to him, to the reader. We can speak, we can read this beacuse this experience, in the singularity of its secret, as "experience of the unexperienced," beyond the distinction between the real and the phantasmatic, remains [demeure] universal and exemplary. (Derida 93)
 

This takes us back into the question the film After. Life asked (perhaps poorly): what does it mean to live? (rather than what does it mean to die). The mortician (played by Liam Neeson) argues that this girl wasn't really "living" but just taking up space. But who has the right to claim that we are not 'living"? Who has the right to actually declare the instant of my death?