Rough Theory

Theory In The Rough

Re-irritating the Differences: Missives from the Mis-reading Group (I)

This week I take my turn to introduce our readings. In response to:

J K Austin, “How to do Things with Words”, 1962

We are now reading:

J Derrida, “Signature Event Context”, 1971
J Searle, “Reiterating the Differences”, 1977

To be followed next week by:

J Derrida, “Limited a b c”, 1977
J Derrida, “Afterword”, 1987

I will start with a summary of this week’s readings, followed by some remarks of a more critical nature. I ask to be excused from the lengthy nature of the summary of Derrida’s article in particular. This is partly due to some difficulties we had in following his argument through (with some some ambiguities and confusion resulting in our discussion…), but also because it is relevant both to Searle’s critique and Derrida’s subsequent replies.

“Signature Event Context” is composed of three parts and an introduction. The introduction presents the problem of the defineability of communication, and relates this to context on the basis “that the ambiguous field of the word ‘communication’ can be massively reduced by the limits of what is called a context” (p.2). This in turn defers the problem to that of whether “the conditions of a context are ever absolutely determinable?” (p.2). There is then a hint of the deconstructive strategy to be employed ahead: not only is there a “theoretical inadequacy of the current concept of context (linguistic or nonlinguistic)” but also working through the question of determinability of context will require “a certain generalisation and a certain displacement of the concept of writing” (3). Read more of this post

Close Reading

My son has seized my copy of Protestant Ethic, and has slipped away to a corner with his prize. He is now sitting on a bean bag elephant, reading the book out loud – one letter at a time.

Reading Group: Text Steps

The reading group had a particularly glorious discussion today – I won’t pre-empt the online version, as LMagee has reserved the introductory posts on the Derrida and Searle debate over the next couple of weeks. (LMagee also tells me that I must stop writing so much on the blog, as this is causing uncertainty over whether it’s “clear” enough for others to post… I gather I’ve been engaging in the online equivalent of talking over everyone else… ;-P)

I will, though, say that we had a fantastic discussion of whether and how Derrida’s works might be considered political – a discussion that went back and forth in a most engaging manner, until LMagee introduced an historical example that was… extremely useful to me – much appreciated, LM, very kind of you… 🙂 I gather that LM was quite pleased to assist – or isn’t this how I should interpret this reaction?

Start introducing Derrida into things and all sorts of underhanded tactics get used – your own examples get used against you…

Regardless, LM will have the upper hand – or at least the introductory one ;-P – in the more formal discussion to take place here at an inderminate later date (presumably, whenever I shut up for long enough to allow others to post…).

For those keeping track of things from a distance, today’s discussion centred on Derrida’s “Signature Event Context” and Searle’s “Reiterating the Differences: A Reply to Derrida”. Next week we’ll pick up with the remainder of Derrida’s work – “Limited Inc a b c…” and “Afterword: Toward an Ethic of Discussion”.

Those who can’t find the time to read the original might consider consulting Scott Eric Kaufman’s graphic novel version of this debate.

Better Never Than Late

So it’s been a hot and smoky weekend in Melbourne. The cool change has just come through – not much help unfortunately, I think, for those on the massive firefront. But a signal for me to shake off my heat-induced sluggishness, and get a bit of thinking done.

I’m well and truly past my self-imposed deadline for writing something substantive on the reading group discussion of the debate between Pinker & Jackendoff and Chomksy, Hauser & Fitch, over the evolution of the language faculty – the trajectory of which is conveniently outlined at Language Log. I’ve hesitated to post in part because I was trying to work out a way to break through what seemed to be the main issue that arose in the reading group discussion: the perception that these articles were highly technical pieces, written by and for specialists, such that deciding between the various “they said-they said” arguments would be essentially impossible for a lay reader. I wanted to work out whether there were some way to approach these readings that could at least minimise this reaction – since the reaction, after all, tends to become a self-fulfilling prophecy.

What I do below is therefore not summarise the debate – as I suspect that even a summary of these already fairly condensed and economical texts would mire us in minutiae. Instead, I provide some suggestions that might help someone read the debate a bit more easily – mainly by locating the various empirical skirmishes in the context of what I take to be the overarching theoretical conflict that motivates the empirical battles. I’ll say at the outset that I very much doubt the reading framework I outline is the only – let alone the best – way of working your way into these texts. I offer it more as an example of how I personally went about trying to make sense of this discussion, without a specialised background in any of the scientific fields referenced in these texts: hopefully, your personal path through these texts will substantially improve on mine.

I want to start where Chomsky, Hauser & Fitch begin: by noting that the purpose of these articles – a point agreed by all sides in the debate – is to make a case for the value of interdisciplinary work when investigating the evolution of the language faculty. This point is more important than it may seem, particularly to non-specialist readers: it tells us that, in spite of first impressions, these articles will not assume that readers have any specific disciplinary background – they may assume a sound scientific knowledge of some sort, but they won’t be assuming a socialisation into any particular scientific discipline: the nature of interdisciplinary work is that you cannot assume such things. This therefore holds out hope that, in principle, a non-specialist reader ought to be able to make sense of these debates.

Where I’d like to go next is to make the suggestion that, in the beginning, readers bracket the empirical skirmishes. This may sound a bit perverse, as these empirical conflicts make up the overwhelming majority of the exchange – and, in fact, mark the least contested points of contact between the two sides: the existence or nature of any theoretical argument is disputed within these texts; there is more consensus over where the empirical fault lines lie. Nevertheless, I suspect we’ll find more light if we step back a bit from the empirical heat, and take a closer look at the strange, half-denied theoretical debate that runs through these articles.

I’ve characterised the theoretical debate as “half denied” for a specific reason: Chomsky, Hauser & Fitch don’t admit that their position is motivated by any specific theoretical perspective. Instead, their repeated claim is that they are posing the only possible scientific questions one could pose about the evolution of language at this moment in time – a point to which I’ll return in a moment. Pinker & Jackendoff then argue: no, these aren’t the only possible scientific questions that could be posed – and, in fact, you have only posed these questions because you are presupposing the validity of a particular linguistic theory: the Minimalist Program. Chomsky, Hauser & Fitch then say: we are doing no such thing, our questions have nothing to do with the Minimalist Program – they are instead the only possible questions a scientist could ask. Pinker & Jackendoff then come back and say: actually, a scientist could ask many other questions, if not already inclined to believe the Minimalist Program were true: here, look! – we’ll show you some…

Essentially, then, in venerable academic tradition, the debate boils down to a set of “did not!” – “did too!” exchanges over whether Chomsky, Hauser & Fitch are pushing the Minimalist Program on the sly. The empirical exchanges all fit within this context – which is why so many of the empirical debates are not primarily about what the facts are – not about who did what, when, where, why and how – but about which specific facts matter, and in what ways they matter, for understanding the evolution of human language. I am suggesting, in other words, that this is not an empirical quarrel, but a philosophical one.

Because what I’ve written is somewhat long, I’ll tuck the main body below the fold. I’ll have to apologise in advance for the length, and for what will almost certainly be inadequate copy editing – I’m writing this on borrowed time, so to speak, and I haven’t been able to give this piece the thorough proofing it undoubtedly desperately needs. Read more of this post

So Where Do You Stop From Here?

My son has just made a sort of conceptual breakthrough. He’s at an age where all activities must be repeated over and over and over – and over. Whoever believes that children have short attention spans really should compare them to their parents…

Fortunately, my son is also an expert negotiator so, when I can begin to feel brain cells suiciding from the Nth repetition of an activity, we hold a conversation that goes something like: “X more times?” He’ll contemplate this, and occasionally suggest a different number (since his numerical knowledge is still slightly shaky, sometimes the revised number involves fewer repetitions… ;-P). And then we count down the repetitions, until the final one, when I’ll announce, “Last time?”. Up until today, he has always followed this with a nod and a confirming “Last time!” And then we usually do one final repetition, and the activity ends peacefully…

Today, though, he departed the text. “Last time?”, I asked. “Last time!” he replied. Then, once we had done our “last time”, I could almost feel the strain of concentration, and he turned hopefully and asked, “Another last time?”

I wonder if I can use this concept for article deadlines?

Reading Group: Metaphors We May Live to Regret

So after a bit of email ring-around, some advance notice of what the reading group will be looking at through the holiday period.

First: I know, I know – I was meant to post on PJ vs. CHF two days ago. I do still intend to do this – Adorno just happened rudely to intrude.

Second: I should have mentioned previously that LMagee and I have something of an… er… side pot going on Weber’s Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism. While not an “official” reading group reading (perhaps we can consider it a reading group subcommittee reading?), LMagee will write something on the book here at some noncommittal point in the future, and I will respond at some noncommittal point after that.

Third: inspired in part by Robert, the group will turn back to Lakoff’s Metaphors We Live By, and then to the recent debate between Pinker and Lakoff, once we have finished our two-week detour on Derrida and Searle. LMagee has asked – sort of – to add one more reading to the Lakoff-Pinker discussion:

Firstly I thought that in the spirit of your recent Lakoff interlocuter, our eventual reading of Lakoff might also, if you’re willing (and if even if you’re not, since it is public…), include your previous Lakoff article, as a way of engaging with Chomsky-Pinker-Lakoff in relation to language and politics.

Fourth: So all of this should get us comfortably past the holidays and into the new year (ooo… that was strange to write – where did this last year go???). The proposal for the new year is that the reading group use this foray into “language and politics” as our transition point into a bit of Continental philosophy, of currently undetermined lineage.

Fragmentary Thoughts on Dialectic of Enlightenment

I’ve been struggling to bring together bits and pieces that I’ve written on Adorno’s understanding of the psychology of reification, to try to figure out how to organise a coherent argument that might actually be useful in establishing some goals for contemporary theory.

Adorno interests me because he can, in places, read as though he is writing a criticism of fundamental mechanisms of conceptual thought, such that critique almost appears to be a struggle to think against the grain of thought itself – a sort of fundamental theoretical pessimism, from which it would be difficult to conceptualise a form of critique that could reach beyond the contemplative. One of my colleagues is prone to using Adorno to criticise conceptual abstractions as such – an interpretation that would seem defensible based on these dimensions of Adorno’s texts.

In other places, though, I think it is clear that Adorno understands himself as a theorist of the specific ways in which thought is scarred by its socialisation into a society characterised by class domination. This critique is still certainly pessimistic, in that the class theoretic framework doesn’t allow Adorno to link specifical critical sensibilities with determinate potentials for transformation. It is no longer, however, intrisically contemplative (although you could argue that it is conjuncturally contemplative for the moment in which Adorno is writing, given how he understands the transition away from liberal capitalism).

Adorno’s argument adopts an interesting strategy of differentiating between the psychological effects that the experience of powerlessness might have, when the subject recognises that this powerlessness is “objective” – reflective of the limited material powers of a given society – and the effects this same experience might have when the subject knows or suspects that powerlessness is “artificial” – sustained by social practices, rather than reflective of material limitations. Adorno argues that the experience of artificial – socially-enforced, rather than natural – powerlessness accounts for particular qualitative characteristics in forms of perception and thought – particularly the existence of a particular kind of impulse toward abstraction and universalisation, manifest in the reification of class relations, as well as in the perception of nature as a passive and lawlike object for technical manipulation.

What I suspect I need to do in my article is tease out two levels of analysis within Adorno’s writings – one more historically specific, and one on a quite sweeping historical register. I don’t agree specifically with either level, but I find one more productive – more illustrative of some of the problems a contemporary critical theory might need to address – than the other. On the more productive level, Adorno is trying to understand the qualitative characteristics of contemporary forms of perception and thought – and he is asking two questions that, I think, remain important: how do we make sense, theoretically, of people’s ability to be aware of counterfactual potentials for the transformation of existing society? And: what impact does it have – for better and, sometimes, for worse – that people might have such an awareness?

Adorno lays the foundation for a potentially historically specific analysis of these issues, focussing on the transition from liberal to state-centred forms of capitalism in the early 20th century, and asking what impact this transition – which left the individual so much more objectively powerless before the encompassing state, than it was before the institutions of liberal capitalism – had on ego development and on the ability to translate an awareness of transformative potentials into political action. Adorno offers a particularly poignant analysis of how this experience of powerlessness is related to unconscious rage – an analysis that is, I think, important to explore in detail (although I won’t do so in this post). Nevertheless, because Adorno understands capitalism primarily in terms of class relations, his core analytical categories won’t actually allow him to focus solely on this one historical transition – or even solely on modern history. Instead, like Habermas, Adorno chases the logic of his analytical categories, and in my opinion these categories lead him very far astray – into a sweeping account of what he then must claim are similar qualitative distortions in perception and thought back to the dawn of recorded time.

This account of human prehistory and the impacts of class domination on perception and thought is explored most clearly in The Dialectic of Enlightenment, although there are sufficient gestures in works like Negative Dialectics to suggest that the basic framework is implied throughout Adorno’s work.

To follow briefly the narrative from Dialectic of Enlightenment: Adorno and Horkheimer start with the category of mimesis – with the imitation of heterogenous, volatile nature within thought. They speak of the spontaneous awe and dread experienced in the face of overwhelming nature – arguing that the “primitive” belief in “unidentified and volatile mana (pp. 20-21) – as a situation in which mana, the moving spirit, is no projection, but the echo of the real supremacy of nature in the weak souls of primitive men” (p. 15). This objective powerlessness leads to a kind of conceptual and practical imitation of nature in an attempt to master objective dependence – it results in a bringing into the self of a heterogenous perception of nature very different from the universalising distance characteristic of contemporary science – a perception predicated on nature’s absolute and unpredictable power.

Adorno and Horkheimer criticise later thinkers for anachronistically interpreting this reaction to nature as a projection, arguing that a projection would require a sharp division between self and nature (subject and object) that does not exist at this point in prehistory. Adorno and Horkheimer argue,

Like science, magic pursues aims, but seeks to achieve them by mimesis – not by progressively distancing itself from the object. It is not grounded in the ‘sovereignty of ideas’, which the primitive, like the neurotic, is said to ascribe to himsel; there can be no ‘over-evaluation of mental processes as against reality’ where there is no radical distinction between thought and reality (p. 11).

Projection arises, for Adorno and Horkheimer, only when the “reality principle” with which the self resigned itself to its own impotence before nature – “the fatality by means of which prehistory sanctioned the incomprehensibility of death” (pp. 28-29) – is carried over into a situation in which “natural conditions exert their power no longer directly but through the medium of human consciousness” (p. 17). At this later historical moment, according to Adorno and Horkheimer, a class of professionals in magic come to use the awe and fear others feel toward nature to justify their class position – such that humans began “worshipping what they were once in thrall to only in the same way as all other creatures” (p. 17). It is this shift – from the natural awareness of material constraints, to the ritualised worship of nature – that generates the projection of human social relations onto nature.

Adorno and Horkheimer recount a vision of increasing division of labour, associated with the rise of specialists in the performance of ritual acts:

In the first stages of nomadic life the members of tribe still took an individual part in the process of influencing the course of nature… In it, the world is already divided into the territory of power and the profane area; as the emanation of mana, the course of nature is elevated to become the norm, and submission to it is required…. [however] in later times intercourse with spirits and submission were assigned to different classes: the power on one side, and obedience on the other. For the vanquished… the recurrent, eternally similar natural processes become the rhythm of labor according to the beat of the cudgel and whip which resounds in every monotonous ritual… In the process, the permanence of nature which they signify is always the permanence of the social pressure which they represent. The dread objectified as a fixed image becomes the sign of the established domination of the privileged. (p. 21)

In Adorno and Horkheimer’s account, this process of the consolidation of class domination is already solidified by the time written records arise:

When language enters into history its masters are priests and sorcerers. Whoever harms the symbols is, in the name of the supernatural powers, subject to their earthly counterparts, whose representatives are the chosen organs of society…. Unidentified, volatile mana was rendered consistent by men and forcibly materialized. Soon the magicians…. expanded their professional knowledge and their influence with the expansion of the spirit world and its characteristics. The nature of the sacred being transferred itself to the magicians, who were privy to it. (pp. 20-21)

Adorno and Horkheimer conclude that the hypostatisation of class relations is intrinsically related to the vision of nature as a fixed, timeless objectivity – one that could be predicted and controlled by the targeted interventions of specialists. The abolition of one is required to overcome the other.

Within this narrative, the actual material dependence of humans on nature appears to serve as a kind of check on the development of projection: the mimetic response to the differentiated, volatile, unpredictable character of nature can thus persist, alongside the projection of human social relations onto nature, precisely because nature has the objective ability to demonstrate the ineffectiveness of ritual – to disrupt human attempts to regularise, tame and tender predictable intrinsically volatile natural forces. As humans slowly develop more genuine mastery over nature, however, these mimetic elements subside, while the projection of human social relations onto the nature – the hypostatisation of class domination as essential and objective, and the perception of nature as a passive, lawlike object of human manipulation – become universal. Within this analytical framework, then, contemporary forms of perception and thought sit on the same qualitative continuum with the forms of perception and thought characteristic of all other settled human communities – it is only the rapid rise in our objective mastery over nature that has driven away the heterogenous mimetic elements of thought that were once preserved by reminders of nature’s persistent power, leaving universalising forms of thought uniquely transcendent and now falsely identified with reason as such.

Adorno rejects the option of regressing back to mimetic forms of thought – predicated as they were on humanity’s objective powerlessness, these forms of thought would no longer be appropriate to a human community that had attained a level of genuine material mastery. Instead, Adorno suggests, there might be a potential to move forward – to preserve the “conceptual” elements within thought alongside a differentiated, heterogenous perception of nature – a possibility Adorno associates with the creation of a social context that would offer genuine potentials for the cultivation of the self.

I’ll try to come back to this, as well as Adorno’s more historically specified analysis, in later posts…

Lemon Drop

Walking out of my office, I notice that someone has left a disreputable looking blue plastic bag on the floor just inside the entrance to our work area. A crumpled, hand-written sign above the bag on the wall reads:

Lemons* + bags
Help yourself

They* need to be used soon

I particularly like the notion that the point was as much to get rid of the bag, as the lemons, and the fact that the sign contains the oddly-placed footnote.

Reading Group Sing-Along: Out of Tune

It was a battered and bruised reading group that met yesterday to discuss our selected readings related to Pinker-Jackendoff vs. Chomsky-Hauser-Fitch debate over the evolution of the linguistic faculty. Two of us were sick; all of us were tired; my longstanding interest in questions of evolution was evidently a bit of outlier within the group (which makes some sense, as evolution is generally not the hot button topic in Australia that it often is in the US)… In spite of all of this, the discussion was actually quite good – I’ll hopefully find time tomorrow to post my impressions of the readings and our talk (today, unfortunately, must be given over to meetings – and you all know how much I love those…). For those who just can’t wait, L. Magee has discovered that we are not the first reading group to debate these works in recent times – readers might want to check out the discussion at Mixing Memory.

One of our members asked, given our collective decrepitude at the moment, whether we might want to take a brief break from the cognitive science tangent, drink some hot chocolate, and read a bit of intellectual comfort food. We have agreed to do this, and will spend the next couple of weeks reading an exchange between Derrida and Searle:

Derrida (1988) Limited Inc (Note: “Signature, Event, Context” is now available online.)

Searle (1977) “Reiterating the Differences: a Reply to Derrida” Glyph I

I gather that we’re starting with the first part of Derrida’s work for next week, but the details are still being nailed down…

This temporary change of course means, among other things, that I lied to Robert, when I promised we would have a more thorough discussion of Lakoff on the blog in a couple of weeks. It’s always possible, of course, to just start such a discussion in another appropriate location – perhaps as a belated addendum to the discussion here.

Tender and Contract

Walking to the train station this morning, I found myself behind a demonstrative, affectionate couple. They meandered down the street, arms around one another, throwing one another off balance. As we all waited at a corner for a light to change, the man bent down and kissed the woman affectionately on the forehead, and whispered: “Thank you so much for signing that prenup…”

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