Iterability and the Christ Event

Lent 1: Romans 5:12-19

5:12 Therefore, just as sin came into the world through one man, and death came through sin, and so death spread to all because all have sinned-
5:13 sin was indeed in the world before the law, but sin is not reckoned when there is no law.
5:14 Yet death exercised dominion from Adam to Moses, even over those whose sins were not like the transgression of Adam, who is a type of the one who was to come.
5:15 But the free gift is not like the trespass. For if the many died through the one man's trespass, much more surely have the grace of God and the free gift in the grace of the one man, Jesus Christ, abounded for the many.
5:16 And the free gift is not like the effect of the one man's sin. For the judgment following one trespass brought condemnation, but the free gift following many trespasses brings justification.
5:17 If, because of the one man's trespass, death exercised dominion through that one, much more surely will those who receive the abundance of grace and the free gift of righteousness exercise dominion in life through the one man, Jesus Christ.
5:18 Therefore just as one man's trespass led to condemnation for all, so one man's act of righteousness leads to justification and life for all.
5:19 For just as by the one man's disobedience the many were made sinners, so by the one man's obedience the many will be made righteous.

Why is the Christ here figured as a type, as the iteration (which means a repetition that includes both difference and deferral, that is, the general structure of differance) of someone who has come before? The Christ event is here still just that – an event – but it is not absolutely singular, it is not without precedent. Does this thereby diminish the eventfulness of the event? Does it mean that Christ is somehow just the provisional name of an archetypal form? Or, is this a purely hermeneutical/rhetorical move?

A certain principle of iterability does seem to be at work here. Derrida implores: “Let us not forget that ‘iterability’ does not signify simply…repeatability of the same, but rather alterability of this same idealized in the singularity of the event…” (Limited Inc, 119) The event is not diffused in the light of the revelation of its iterability, it is simply re-imagined. The singularity of the Christ event does not lie in its purely arbitrary divine origin, but in its adherence to and, at the same time, divergence from a previous moment. The grace that the second Adam unleashes is gratuitous. But gratuitousness is still a measure: it is “more than…” it is “in excess of…” The singularity of the grace inaugurating Christ event is here thematized in terms of small displacements – “much more surely.” In this way the aphorism – a condensed Talmudic image – that claims that when the Messiah comes there will be only a “slight difference.” But, this is a small difference that makes all the difference.

On the Promise (Epiphany 3)

Isaiah 9:1-4
9:1 But there will be no gloom for those who were in anguish. In the former time he brought into contempt the land of Zebulun and the land of Naphtali, but in the latter time he will make glorious the way of the sea, the land beyond the Jordan, Galilee of the nations.
9:2 The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness on them light has shined.
9:3 You have multiplied the nation, you have increased its joy; they rejoice before you as with joy at the harvest, as people exult when dividing plunder.
9:4 For the yoke of their burden, and the bar across their shoulders, the rod of their oppressor, you have broken as on the day of Midian.

The promise of a new tomorrow, a new and better future. This is not a utopia – a “no-place” – or an abstract wish. This glimmer of new life shines among the concrete ruins of a “historicized” and thoroughly geopolitical reality – Assyrian conquest of the southern kingdom of Judah. And this divine future represents no escape from the geopolitical context. Assyria is not pure enemy, but also an instrument of divine judgment: “Ah, Assyria, the rod of my anger, the staff of my fury!” The shards of the promise of a messianic future are interspersed amongst a decaying present and do not represent a clean break from it; such that the present would not be somehow essential to the future hope.

What happens is that promise as promise is set to work in the present, opening it up to a new future and thus a new configuration. “And a promise,” as Derrida says in Specters of Marx, “must promise to be kept, that is, not to remain ‘spiritual’ or ‘abstract,’ but to produce events, new effective forms of action, practice, organization, and so forth.” (112) Promise – that of a divine future or even the dialectical becoming of a classless society – lodges a device within the present that is charged with explosive possibility. The present cannot remain simply given, it becomes and remains fractured and haunted by the future that it cannot contain. The (liturgical) rehearsal of the promise, the repetition of its potentialities in forms of life, are conducive of an energy that charges this device to the breaking point; in which case there would not be simply “the present” but a performatively multiplied series of presents.

The present, therefore, would not be captured by the indicative mood – “it is how it is” – but by the subjunctive: every assertion about the way things are is read under the sign of the conditional or the contingent. Rosenzweig names the imperative as the mood characteristic of the present, in the sense that it is bound to the moment of Revelation, of the commandment to love. But in either case – subjunctive or imperative – the present is put into question. This questionablness of the present and of humanity’s place in it is illuminated by Jurgen Moltmann in his Theology of Hope.

Christian theology has one way in which it can prove its truth by reference to the reality of man and the reality of the world that concerns man – namely by accepting the questionableness of human existence and the questionableness of reality as a whole and taking them up into that eschatological questionableness of human nature and the world which is disclosed by the event of promise (94).

Promise is the possibility of the future and the condition of the present.

The Future Anterior

I am interested, above all, in the politics of time, or the temporality of politics. I am interested in understanding the political event as an interruption of the normal order. Order implies not just stability of structure, but sequence or flow (as in ordinal numbers). What flows in the current order, the liberal-democratic hegemony, is both capital and time. There is a connection between the two, I am almost certain, but it is a connection I have not yet explored. For now the idea of a political event interrupting the ordered flow of time -- for instance, clocks and calendars -- is what I am attempting to pursue.

There is much to explore in this regard, for now I want to look at Derrida's suspision of a certain temporal mode: the future anterior. The future anterior, the verbal form that names what "will have been," is a form that betrays the future as such: the absolute future of the a-venir.

The future [the a-venir] can only be anticipated in the form of an absolute danger. It is that which breaks absolutely with constituted normality and can only be proclaimed, presented, as a sort of monstrosity. For that future world and for that within it which will have put into question the values of sign, word, and writing, for that which guides our future anterior, there is as yet no exergue.
Of Grammatology, p.5

This lack of an exergue -- named in the exergue of Of Grammatology -- is not a deficency of method, Derrida is not attempting a Hegelian "phenomenology" where the telos is perceptible; as though we stand (or fly) in the dusk of the event which provides us a glimpse of its fullness. The future that Derrida anticipates here -- the arrival of a "science of writing, a grammatology -- would be the anticipation of "a way of thinking that is faithful and attentive to the ineluctable world of the future which proclaims itself at present, beond the cloure of knowledge" (ibid, p.4). How can that which is beyond the present, beyond knowledge be present and known? Certainly not in the terms of the present. Not, to be sure, in terms of the Prussian state (Hegel) or of liberal democracy (Fukyama). What is to-come cannot properly be accommodated to what is. This is, according to Derrida, what is at stake in the logic of the future anterior: to say here and now, what will have been the result of a completed temporal flow, a realized eschatology. To anticipate the future in the present is to disrupt it's order, to speak or act against order, to be untimely or seditious.

The question that remains for me, however, is whether the future anterior is, in every case, subordinate to the metaphysics of presence. For Badiou (following Lacan's notion of the apres coup), the role of the "will have been" does not bespeak a subordination of the future to the present, but the undecidability of the event until it has run its course. The aleatory dimension of the political intervention that is underway.

Hope Against "Heideggerian Hope"

Once again: is there a passage beyond differance?

Derrida names one mode of this attempted passage in the 1968 essay "Differance." The perpetrator in this case is Heidegger. Derrida is always reading Heidegger, but in the texts of this period (cf.Of Grammatology, 1969), Heidegger plays a specific role. Heidegger is the one - along with Nietzsche and Freud - who has come closest to deconstruction: by challenging the (metaphysical) assumptions of the Western tradition; all the while remaining within its "circle." Heidegger's - and Nietzsche's and Freud's - attempts, however, are not rigorous enough. There are moments when he falls prey to these very assumptions. One such moment, one such attempt to escape the play of differance takes place, according to Derrida, in his "The Anaximander Fragment." Here Heidegger seems to be doing exactly what Derrida is doing in the "Differance" essay, attempting to name, as a word and a concept, what is unnamable and what is "neither a name nor a concept." Differance, is the (non-)word that Derrida comes up with. But he is clear that "differance" too is subject to differance - it too functions within an infinite chain of substitutions. He says early on in the essay that "the efficacity of the thematic of differance may very well, indeed must, one day be superseded, lending itself if not to its own replacement, at least to enmeshing itself in a chain that in truth it never will have governed" (p.7). "Differance" the concept/word is not sufficient to the fact of differance, but no word/concept is or will be. This is the great Heideggerian mistake, the "Heideggerian hope" that Derrida derides. Without going into the specifics of Heidegger's reading of the Anaximander fragment (which I have not read), it is enough to point out Heidegger's misguided daring:

"...in order to name the essential nature of Being, language would have to find a single word, the unique word. From this we can gather how daring every thoughtful word addressed to Being is. Nevertheless such daring is not impossible, since Being speaks always and everywhere throughout langauge" (p. 52, quoted in Derrida, p.27).

One could easily replace every instance of "Being" with "differance" and you would find a trace of Derrida's argument. That is, until the point when the non-impossibility of such an arrival is affirmed. This is the "Heideggerian hope" that must be abandoned, according to Derrida. To the Kantian question "what may I hope?" Derrida answers: "you cannot."

I too would question any "Heideggerian hope" (e.g. Heidegger's own hope in the German nation). However, I will wonder, indeed hope, that differance do not preclude another hope.

A Theological Fragment

In the comments to an earlier post Dave asked about the degree to which I bought in to the Derridian idea of differance. I read between the lines of this question and interpreted it as the following: is there a passage beyond differance? In other words, and here I'm reading even further between the lines, is there a place for a theological affirmation - transcendence, plenitude, truth, infinity, etc. - while also affirming an unsurpassable finitude qua differance? My response, a response with which I am still not satisfied, was to identify a dichotomy between a fallen and a redeemed world. If the fallen humanity awaits its redemption, we have a responsiblity to seek to understand something of the structure of this fallenness. This, I suggest, is what Derrida does very well.

I am returning to this thought because I came across an interesting analogue. I am beginning a first reading of Adorno's Negative Dialectics. While I don't have much of a sense of what he's doing yet, the Introduction offers an attempt to explain what he means (and doesn't mean) by the term negative dialectics. I came accross a line that seems to me to distill the (concrete) sense of the term - even while it betrays that sense by formalizing it. He says, "...dialectics is the ontology of the wrong state of things. The right state of things would be free of it..." (p.11). Negative dialectics is not, as in Hegelian dialectics, the progressive, ultimately positive, movement (albeit through negation) toward the absolute spirit, as the state. It is the immanent critique of the structure of the "wrong state of things," perhaps we could say, of the fallen world. It would certainly sound too telological, indeed too onto-theo-teleological, to Derrida to know that deconstruction was being undertaken in the interest of an immanent critique, in the interest of somehow attaining to the "right state of things." But this betrayal of finitude is not so much my concern. What is more problematic, and what remains a larger question for this project, is the relation between a fallen and a redeemed world.

Derrida would also not adhere to this dichotomy and his thinking of "redemption" - if I can call it that - does not rely upon a passage beyond; it relies upon the im-possibility of a promise. Benjamin, too, problematizes the sharp distinction between the fallen (the profane) and the redeemed and, in the Theologico-Political Fragment, alludes to their mutual contribution to the coming of the Kingdom of God - i.e. an emancipated humanity. How should a modern thinking of redemption take shape? As the "wrong state of things" persists with increasing visibility - the state of exception that is becoming the rule - the ability to counteract it seems even more obscure. We await here below, in eager expectation, the redemption of creation. But should we await or should we hasten? What would it meant to hasten?

On the "to-come"

If the to-come of democracy or justice is not a regulative idea, then it is a promise. Derrida, in Rogues, quotes himself from The Other Heading (1991): “[the to-come is] not something that is certain to happen tomorrow, not the democracy (national or international, state or tans-state) of the future, but a democracy that must have the structure of a promise – and thus the memory of that which carries the future, the to-come, here and now” (p.86). The fundamental difference here, between the promise and the regulative idea, concerns the certainty of its arrival – and the form of its arrival. For Kant, as it was mentioned, the supersensible idea serves to regulate action in the sensible realm by holding out for it the hope of its full arrival. In this way the regulative idea is close to a promise in the common sense of the word: a word that can be counted on. We demand such an economical accounting of the promise in everyday use, I think. If a word is not kept – if we were cynical we could say, if there is no return on the investment – then it will not have been a promise, only empty words. This is precisely the everyday understanding of the promise at work in the line from the Fugazi song that I cited in an earlier post.

For Derrida, on the other hand, the promise, in order to be a promise, must retain the undecidability with respect to its arrival and the form of its arrival. He says that it “is thus indeed already a question of autoimmunity, of a double bind of threat and chance, not alternatively or by turns promise and/or threat but threat in the promise itself” (p.82). The promise of a classless society, or in Derrida’s terms, a justice to-come cannot be counted on or accounted for ahead of time. This would not be a promise, but a calculable, albeit deferred, fact – this was precisely Marx’s mistake in reading history teleologically. This is the structure of the a-venir the to-come of democracy.

Democracy: regulative Idea or a-venir

Derrida gathers his reservations with respect to the regulative idea into a set of three. The first two concern the question of possibility. The Kantian notion remains, claims Derrida, within the horizon of possibility, even if it is infinitely deferred. He says the regulative idea “partakes of what would still fall, at the end of an infinite history, into the realm of the possible, of what is virtual or potential, of what is within the power of someone, some “I can,” to reach, in theory, and in a form that is not wholly freed from all teleological ends” (p.84). If the future is subject to the law of différance and if différance is meant to signify both difference and deferral, it is certainly not meant to signify this Kantian deferral, or at least democracy would not be deferred according to an infinite line of time.

If possibility presents a problem for thinking the a-venir, then so does impossibility. Derrida's is not a dialectical thinking and the negation of possibility through impossibility moves one no closer to the absolute future of the to-come – both retain a relation to the “I can” (or, as the case may be, the “I can’t”) of the Kantian subject. Derrida appeals instead to a notion of the "im-possible." The im-possible would be that which subtracts itself from a dialectical relation. It would be, for Derrida, that space (as in the spacing of différance) between the possible and the impossible.

The impossible is not privative. It is not the inaccessible, and it is not what I can indefinitely defer: it announces itself; it precedes me, swoops down upon and seizes me here and now in a nonvirtualizable way, in an actuality and not potentiality. It comes upon me from on high, in the form of an injunction that does not simply wait on the horizon, that I do not see coming, that never leaves me in peace and never lets me put it off until later. Such an urgency cannot be idealized any more than the other as other can. This im-possible is thus not a (regulative) idea or ideal. It is what is most undeniably real. And sensible. Like the other. Like the
irreducible and nonappropriable différance of the other
(p. 84).

The im-possible, in short, is the other in a profoundly Levinasian sense. The proximity of the category of the other to the fact of the neighbour (i.e. the one who demands my responsibility) is a little less clear in Derrida than in Levinas, but the proximity remains. The future as a-venir comes upon me much like the neighbour does: as an unexpected arrival that places a demand on me, a demand to which I must respond here and now. Kant’s thought of the regulative idea as an infinitely deferred possibility of the sensible appropriation of the supersensible would thus differ form Derrida’s. While différance – thus, deferral – is irreducible in terms of presence, what is not deferred is the immediacy of the demand (e.g. for democracy). It cannot be idealized or made into a model that we might approximate. The border between the sensible and the supersensible would be problematized in Derrida; and the stability of such limits undone. The a-venir “swoops down” in an undecidable moment. (This presents an interesting reversal of Benjamin’s concept of history: where for Benjamin the past “flashes up” (cf. Theses V & VI), for Derrida the future “swoops down”).

The second reservation Derrida has with respect to the regulative idea concerns the means of its implementation. For Kant the approximation of the regulative idea (e.g. the kingdom of ends) proceeds according to a rule: the moral law. For Derrida, on the other hand, the availability of a law annuls any real decision a priori: “It is simply deployed, without delay, presently, with the automatism attributed to machines. There is no longer any place for justice or responsibility (whether juridical, political, or ethical) (p.85). To appeal to law as a condition for justice or responsibility would be to circumvent the différance which is the condition for both.

The third reservation Derrida offers concerns the philosophical maze of the Kantian architectonic. To simply take up the theme of the regulative idea into a new discourse without doing justice to the entire Kantian system would be irresponsible. I don’t blame him for this reservation.

Democracy Against Democracy (II): Semantic Indeterminacy

Derrida describes his interrogation of democracy, repeatedly, as a “double question” which is “at the same time semantic and historical, by turns semantic and historical.” (cf. p.7). Why the added emphasis?

The “by turns” refers to the etymological connections that “rogue” bears to the French word “wheel” (roue). Throughout the essay Derrida brings into play a whole series of philosophical and historical instances of the wheel or the circle – the significant point being that the wheel (e.g. as in the sovereign subject who has completed the circuit of ipseity: beginning in itself proceeding to alienate itself in otherness then returning more fully to itself) is that it cannot spin without an axel; it is conditioned by an emptiness, the “strange necessity of the zero” (p.13).

The “at the same time” refers to a essential connection that exists between these two aporetic modes of democracy: it’s historical impossibility and its semantic indeterminacy. I’ve already said some things about the former (thus, I have already betrayed the “at the same time” as has Derrida himself; albeit in a more careful way) now I would like to look to the latter. The thrust of this problem lies in another question that Derrida asks: how to speak democratically about democracy?

In short, it is not possible. The “interminable self-critique” that would condition any democracy, would preclude any settled definitions of democracy. It would be undemocratic to fix (as a sovereign decision) any definition of democracy.

To speak democratically of democracy, it would be necessry,through some circular performativity and through the political violence of some enforcing rhetoric,some force of law, to impose a meaning on the word democratic and thus produce a consensus that one pretends, by fiction, to be established and accepted - or at the very least possible and necessary: on the horizon. (p.73)

Just as democracy cannot be practiced democratically, it cannot be spoken of democratically either. Democracy is stuck in the double bind of autoimmunity at every turn.

...

So what then?

Derrida points out the aporetic structure of democracy. Every historical attempt at democracy will come up against the double bind, autoimmunity is constitutive, suicide is inevitable. Where does that leave us? Derrida's "posits?" "hypothesizes?" reocmmends? (all seem to be problematic terms in this case) the idea of a democracy to come. But what [ce qui] or who [qui] is this event that is to come? I could simply move on to Derrida's "5 foci" which characterize the democracy to come - and I will - but the question that remains for me - and this is a question that animates much of the larger project - concerns this what of the democracy to come. But discerning what it is is also a discerning of what it is not; namely, a Kantian "regulative idea."

The regulative idea of the "kingdom of ends" or what Kant calls, in the Religion book, the "ethical community" or the "invisible church" (props to John Calvin for that one!) is a supersensible idea, a goal unattainable for historical humanity. It is our task then, to approximate its instantiation, knowing full well that it will never fully measure up. It is hard not to read Derrida's democracy to come in precisely this way. Having said that, this is not an attempt to place the Derridian a-venir under suspicion; it is not to say that it necissarily collapses into a Kantian notion; it is not to say that a possible solution is not available in what I have alredy read of Derrida; it is only to say that it is a difficult question to work out. One that Derrida himself acknowledges in a quasi-confessional moment of Rogues:

Reference is...made each time to the regulative Idea in the Kantian sense, to which I would not want the idea of a democracy to come to be reduced.

Yet the regulative Idea remains, for lack of anything better, if we can say "lack of anything better" with regard to a regulative Idea, a last resort. Although such a last resort or final recourse risks becomign an alibi, it retains a certain dignity, I cannot swear that I will not one day give in to it. (p.83)

I suppose Derrida leaves the question open: has he, now that he has no days left, given in to the regulative idea?

I doubt it.

Democracy Against Democracy (I): Historical impossibility

I'm going to stick with Derrida a little bit longer. The following comes from Rogues; a great little book, and one of the last texts he composed (as a talk in French) before his death.

First of all, Derrida likes democracy. He prefers the "democracy to come" of course - and this book is an extended reflection on precisely this theme - but also concrete experiments in democracy. Why is democracy good? Derrida notes (in parentheses) that democracy is...

(the only name of a regime, or quasi regime, open to its own historical transformation, to taking up its intrinsic plasticity and its interminable self-criticizability, one might even say its interminable analysis). (p.25)

Leaving aside the allusion to psychoanalysis (but noting derrida's later reference to the problem of the unconscious in conceiving of a democratic equality (pp.54-55)), this is the "definition" of democracy that Derrida sees as stretching all the way back to Plato and Aristotle - notwithstanding their mutual ambivalence towards, sometimes disdain for, the idea of democracy as a political configuration. But of course, nothing is ever so simple for Derrida. This constitutive openness of democracy is at one and the same time its condition of possibility and its condition of impossibility - what Derrida refers to as a "double bind." At this point he appeals to a biological metaphor in order to expose this double condition. He claims that democracy is structurally autoimmune.

From the ever-helpful Wikipedia we learn that autoimmunity is "the failure of an organism to recognize its own constituent parts (down to the sub-molecular levels) as "self", which results in an immune response against its own cells and tissues." To say that democracy is subject to autoimmunity is another way of saying that democracy is suicidal. I does not, can not, or will not survive the onslaught of its own consequences. But how precisely is democracy suicidal or subject to the double bind of autoimmunity?

Democracy, in it efforts to be democratic is susceptible to two possible deaths:

1. Democracy, in the vein hope of preserving itself, can roll back democratic freedoms, civil liberties, or, as in the very recent legislation passed by the US congress, it can deny rights and power to certain segments of the demos - namely, it can suspend habeas corpus for those considered terrorists. Here democracy dies ("comically" we might say) by killing itself in the interest of self-preservation.

2. Democracy can also die ("tragically") by way of a hyper-democratic openness. That is, democracy can be subverted from the inside by non- 0r anti-democratic forces which have used democratic means to achieve such a possibility. So for instance, a theocratic or even a fascist state may have emerged (indeed have emerged) by virtue of the people's will. Democracy thus commits suicide in the interest of the democratic ideal. This is, no doubt, what the U.S. and other self-proclaimed guardians/purveyors of democracy saw to be at stake with the election of Hamas to a majority of the Palestinian parliament - and thus the reason for choosing a comic suicide.

Historical democracies can and must be always subject to this double bind, this autoimmune predicament. There is no escape from this democratic "death drive." This is why democracy, if such a thing exists, must be conceived as an undeconstructible democracy to come. This is Derrida's take.

I will reserve critical comments for a post to come.

"To learn to live with ghosts": Hamlet vs. Red Dawn

Derrida's Specters of Marx is about ghosts as much as it is about Marx: Marx's ghost(s) and Marx as ghost(s). It is the latter that I am concerned with here.

Derrida speaks of his gernation's experience of the specter of Marx, it's "paternal" character (p.13). Derrida's generation - the memory of 1789, the legacy of French Marxism, May '68 -conjures a certain type of ghost. This is perhaps why one of the subtexts of Derrida's reading of the Marxian injunction/promise is Hamlet. A call for justice, out of the past, into the future, issues from this specter of Marx. This is a rather different ghost of Marx, however, than the one that haunts the experience of a suburban American kid growing up in the 1980s. This would not be Hamlet's dilema of a disjointed time.

But there is no doubt that the figure of Marx haunts my generation as well. However, this was a much less ambiguous type of haunting. Marx was less an elusive ghost and more of an overtly menacing Frankenstein figure. I was haunted by "Marx" as the monstrous hybrid: Stalinist-Leninist-Titoist-Moaist-Sandinistan threats all rolled into one. This united communist force was construed less as a political and ideological bloc and more as a dangerous aberration of nature. This monster, moreover, could parachute onto American soil at any moment. As a young boy, the outrageous senario of the film Red Dawn was at once the scariest and the most exciting prospect I could have imagined. Facing the red menace with with other armed young militants was a recurring fantasy for me. The ghost of Marx called out - in Russian and Spanish - for World War III.

A specter is haunting this project.

Variations on the Promise











"Promises are shit...
...there was nothing left when broken."
- Fugazi (1988)

"There would be [no] promise without this disjunction."
- Jacques Derrida (1993)