Derrida's Alibi

 In an essay from 1998, “Typewriter Ribbon,” Derrida claims a relation of confession and archive. But, before he starts the investigation (which will concern primarily Rousseau), he says, “Let us put in place the premises of our question.” He says, “Will this be possible for us? Will we one day be able to, and in a single gesture, to join the thinking of the event to the thinking of the machine? Will we be able to think, what is called thinking, at one and the same time, both what is happening (we call that an event) and the calculable programming of an automatic repetition (we call that a machine). For that, it would be necessary in the future (but there will be no future except on this condition) to think both the event and the machine as two compatible or even in-dissociable concepts. Today they appear to us to be antinomic” (Without Alibi, p. 72).

These two concepts appear to us to be antinomic because we conceive an event as something singular and non-repeatable. Moreover, Derrida associates this singularity to the living. The living being undergoes a sensation and this sensation (an affect or feeling for example) gets inscribed in organic material. The idea of an inscription leads Derrida to the other pole. The machine that inscribes is based in repetition; “It is destined, that is, to reproduce impassively, imperceptibly, without organ or organicity, the received commands. In a state of anaesthesis, it would obey or command a calculable program without affect or auto-affection, like an indifferent automaton” (Without Alibi, p. 73).

The automatic nature of the inorganic machine is not the spontaneity attributed to organic life. It is easy to see the incompatibility of the two concepts: organic, living singularity (the event) and inorganic, dead universality (mechanical repetition). Derrida says that, if we can make these two concepts compatible, “you can bet not only (and I insist on not only) will one have produced a new logic, an unheard of conceptual form.  [Musk]

In truth, against the background and at the horizon of our present possibilities, this new figure would resemble a monster.” The monstrosity of this paradox between event and repetition announces, perhaps, another kind of thinking, an impossible thinking: the impossible event (there must be resemblance to the past which cancels the singularity of the event) and the only possible event (since any event in order to be event worthy of its name must be singular and non-resembling). Derrida concludes this discussion by saying: “To give up neither the event nor the machine, to subordinate neither one to the other, neither to reduce one to the other: this is perhaps a concern of thinking that has kept a certain number of ‘us’ working for the last few decades” (Without Alibi, p. 74). This “us” refers to Derrida’s generation of thinkers: “the incorruptibles.” What Derrida says here defines a general project which consists in trying to conceive the relation between machine-like repeatability and irreplaceable singularity neither as a relation of externality (external as in Descartes’s two substance or as in Platonism’s two worlds) nor as a relation of homogeneity (any form of reductionism would suffice here to elucidate a homogeneous relation). Instead, the relation is one in which the elements are internal to one another and yet remain heterogeneous. [two simultaneous opposite states]Derrida’s famous term “différance” (to which we shall return below) refers to this relation in which machine-like repeatability is internal to irreplaceable singularity and yet the two remain heterogeneous to one another.

Contamination, in Derrida, implies that an opposition consisting in two pure poles separated by an indivisible line never exists. In other words, traditionally (going back to Plato’s myths but also Christian theology), we think that there was an original pure state of being (direct contact with the forms or the Garden of Eden) which accidentally became corrupt. In contrast, Derrida tries to show that no term or idea or reality is ever pure in this way; one term always and necessarily “infects” the other.

First, experience as the experience of the present is never a simple experience of something present over and against me, right before my eyes as in an intuition; there is always another agency there. Repeatability [the machine!] contains what has passed away and is no longer present and what is about to come and is not yet present. The present therefore is always complicated by non-presence. Derrida calls this minimal repeatability found in every experience “the trace.” Indeed, the trace is a kind of proto-linguisticality (Derrida also calls it “arche-writing”), since language in its most minimal determination consists in repeatable forms.

Third, if the origin is always heterogeneous, then nothing is ever given as such in certainty. Whatever is given is given as other than itself, as already past or as still to come becomes foundational “as”: origin as the heterogeneous “as.” The “as” means that there is no knowledge as such, there is no truth as such, there is no perception, no intuition of anything as such. Faith, perjury, and language are already there in the origin.

Fourth, if something like a fall has always already taken place, has taken place essentially or necessarily, then every experience contains an aspect of lateness. It seems as though I am always late for the origin since it seems to have always already disappeared. Every experience then is always not quite on time or, as Derrida quotes Hamlet, time is “out of joint.” Late in his career, Derrida will call this time being out of joint “anachronism” (see for instance On the Name, p. 94). As we shall see in a moment, anachronism for Derrida is the flip side of what he calls “spacing” (espacement); space is out of place. But we should also keep in mind, as we move forward that the phrase “out of joint” alludes to justice: being out of joint, time is necessarily unjust or violent.

Aristotle’s definition of God as “thought thinking itself.” According to Derrida, hearing-oneself-speak is, for Husserl, “an auto-affection of an absolutely unique type” (Voice and Phenomenon, p. 67). It is unique because there seems to be no external detour from the hearing to the speaking; in hearing-oneself-speak there is self-proximity. It seems therefore that I hear myself speak immediately in the very moment that I am speaking. According to Derrida, Husserl’s own description of temporalization however undermines the idea that I hear myself speak immediately. On the one hand, Husserl describes what he calls the “living present,” the present that I am experiencing right now, and yet Husserl also says that the living present is thick. The living present is thick because it includes phases other than the now, in particular, what Husserl calls “protention,” the anticipation (or “awaiting,” we might say) of the approaching future and “retention,” the memory of the recent past. As is well known, Derrida focuses on the status of retention in Voice and Phenomenon. Retention in Husserl has a strange status since Husserl wants to include it in the present as a kind of perception and at the same time he recognizes that it is different from the present as a kind of non-perception. For Derrida, Husserl’s descriptions imply that the living present, by always folding the recent past back into itself, by always folding primary memory into the present perception, involves a difference in the very middle of it (Voice and Phenomenon, p. 56). In other words, in the very moment, when silently I speak to myself, it must be the case that there is a minuscule hiatus differentiating me into the speaker and into the hearer. There must be a hiatus that differentiates me from myself, a hiatus or gap without which I would not be a hearer as well as a speaker. This hiatus also defines the trace, a minimal repeatability. And this hiatus, this fold of repetition, is found in the very moment of hearing-myself-speak. Derrida stresses that “moment” or “instant” translates the German “Augenblick,” which literally means “blink of the eye.” When Derrida stresses the literal meaning of “Augenblick,” he is in effect “deconstructing” auditory auto-affection into visual auto-affection. When I look in the mirror, for example, it is necessary that I am “distanced” or “spaced” from the mirror. I must be distanced from myself so that I am able to be both seer and seen. The space between, however, remains obstinately invisible. Remaining invisible, the space gouges out the eye, blinds it. I see myself over there in the mirror and yet, that self over there is other than me; so, I am not able to see myself as such. What Derrida is trying to demonstrate here is that this “spacing” (espacement) or blindness is essentially necessary for all forms of auto-affection, even tactile auto-affection which seems to be immediate.

Freud, the term ,“Verneinung” implies that when the patient denies a desire or wish, he or she has indicated to the analyst precisely what he or she unconsciously desires or wishes. The denial then functions as a sort of disguised confirmation of the analyst’s interpretation of the patient’s symptoms or problem. In short, and this is what Derrida is most interested in, psychoanalysis has isolated a negation which is in fact an affirmation. The fundamental question then for negative theology, but also for psychoanalysis, and for Derrida is how to deny and yet also not deny. This duality between not telling and telling is why Derrida takes up the idea of the secret. In “How to Avoid Speaking,” Derrida says, and this is an important comment for understanding the secret in Derrida: “There is a secret of denial [dénégation] and a denial [dénégation] of the secret. The secret as such, as secret, separates and already institutes a negativity; it is a negation that denies itself. It de-negates itself” (Languages of the Unsayable, p. 25, my emphasis). Here Derrida speaks of a secret as such. A secret as such is something that must not be spoken; we then have the first negation: “I promise not to give the secret away.” And yet, in order to possess a secret really, to have it really, I must tell it to myself. Here we can see the relation of hearing-oneself-speak that we just saw in Voice and Phenomenon. Keeping a secret includes necessarily auto-affection: I must speak to myself of the secret. We might however say more, we might even say that I am too weak for this speaking of the secret to myself not to happen. I must have a conceptual grasp of it; I have to frame a representation of the secret. With the idea of a re-presentation (I must present the secret to myself again in order to possess it really), we also see retention, repetition, and the trace or a name. A trace of the secret must be formed, in which case, the secret is in principle shareable. If the secret must be necessarily shareable, it is always already shared. In other words, in order to frame the representation of the secret, I must negate the first negation, in which I promised not to tell the secret: I must tell the secret to myself as if I were someone else. I thereby make a second negation, a so to speak “de-” or “un-negation,” which means I must break the promise not to tell the secret. In order to keep the secret (or the promise), I must necessarily not keep the secret (I must violate the promise). So, I possess the secret and do not possess it. This structure has the consequence of there being no secret as such. A secret is necessarily shared. As Derrida says in “How to Avoid Speaking,”

 Impossible Speech. Evocation, Calling Forth

 Will we one day be able in a single gesture, to join the thinking of the event to the thinking of the machine, to think what is called thinking at one and the same time both what is happening (we call that an event) and the calculable programming of an automatic repetition? Derrida appropriates Freud's patients denial of the sub-con as proof that nonspeech is speech, to justify

The machine that inscribes is based in repetition; “It is destined, that is, to reproduce repetiion impassively, imperceptibly, without organicity, the received commands. In a state of anaesthesis, to obey a program without affect or auto-affection, like an indifferent automaton” (Without Alibi) which is not the spontaneity attributed to organic life. It is easy to see the incompatibility of the two concepts: organic, living singularity (the event) and inorganic, dead universality (mechanical repetition). Derrida argues the automatic nature of the inorganic machine compatible with the spontaneity attributed to organic life against the background of In The History of Madness (Madness and Civilization) “Cogito and the History of Madness” (1963), where he criticizes Foucault’s Descartes. Alterity became an evocation, a calling forth That pushed old Ludwign down the line. to join the thinking of the event to the thinking of the machine, thinking at one and the same time, both what is happening (event) and the calculable programming of an automatic repetition (machine). “There will be no future except on this condition” (Musk) to think both the event and the machine as two compatible (Without Alibi, p. 72). , Derrida’s head gave singularity to living sensation and repetition to the machine.. if we can make these two concepts compatible, “you can bet not only (and I insist I only) will have an unheard of conceptual form.  [Musk was pushing Derrida along.]

an impossible thinking: the impossible event if resemblance to the past cancels the singularity of the event) which must be singular and non-resembling). Derrida told Musk “To give up neither the event nor the machine, to subordinate neither one to the other, neither to reduce one to the other: machine-like repeatability and irreplaceable singularity. [two simultaneous opposite states] refer to this relation in which machine-like repeatability is internal to irreplaceable singularity and yet the two remain non homogeneous but heterogeneous to one another.

The present therefore is always complicated by non-presence by a trace of  repeatability found in every experience “the trace.” “archo-writing” under creeks, since language in minimal determination consist in repeatable forms. The head speak. experience contains lateness. I am always late for its origin since it already has disappeared. This joint “anachronism” was a mainstay of cannibus shops.( the flip side of space out of place.

the living present always folding the recent past back into itself folds primary memory into present perception.

Then Wittgenstein called up from down below in the very moment, “when I speak silently to myself, I differentiate into both speaker and hearer. Then there must be a hiatus that differentiates me from myself, a gap without which I would not be a hearer and speaker that defines the trace, a minimal repeatability. This repetition is found in the moment of hearing-myself-speak The “blink of the eye.” When I look in the mirror, for example, it is necessary that I am “distanced” or “spaced” from the mirror I am distanced from myself as both seer and seen. The space between, remains obstinately invisible. This is the mouse speech. Remaining invisible, the space blinds the eye, blinds it. I see myself over there in the mirror and yet, that self over there is other than me; [this equivocation of self for image, reflection enables this entire charade of the singularity and repetition.so, I am not able to see myself (equivocation) as such can only occur in a state of  auto-affection. Narcissism.

Freud’s ,“Verneinung” that  when patient denies a desire or wish, they indicate unconscious desires. Denial is confirmation where negation is affirmation, to deny and yet also not deny. Telling and telling is the secret Ludwig says you must no say. The secret is negation that denies itself. It de-negates itself” (Languages of the Unsayable, p. 25, my emphasis). something that must not be spoken yet, in order to possess a secret really, we must tell it. To ourself and more for validation. I must speak to myself of the secret. But if I am too weak for this speaking of the secret to myself to happen. I must  frame a representation of the secret, a re-presentation (I must present the secret to myself over and over to possess ), this repetition of the must be necessarily shareable. In the inner speech it is always already shared. To frame the representation of the secret, I must negate that I promised not to tell: I must tell the secret to myself as if I were someone else. I must break the promise not to tell. In order to keep the secret (or the promise), I must necessarily not keep the secret So, I possess the secret and do not possess it. Derrida says in “How to Avoid Speaking,”

Hearing the call by phone of water coming out the door,  is this heard or done? I hear, if suddenly in the instant, or called to be, called two Sundays before by phone that had I not been called had been catastrophic. As is was enough. If not, worse. There was another flood, two years before, early on a Saturday, when I found when ready to do the roof that water was coming out the door, no call then, but some merely  higher intent, that trades a broken leg for a skinned knee,  a birthday present at 70, for this was my birthday. But there was one before that, in '99, notified from a neighbor befriended, an old  woman, Grace, who  called with the first, vii inches deep, but still way better than go another day. That was a Sunday too. In none of these did I think not to act. I heard their voice and obeyed.

If there is a moment of such fatigue it cannot stay awake and body lays down, scene disappears, to surface a new whole, with a plan, a point of view,  which resolution comes as many times a day as is, these moments are not of words or thoughts but water and lung to emerge fresh to give account, that hearing, seeing, listening, following, lead--who cares! --do and be as one cuts endless board to fit, measure, mark, cut, break, trim, place, again, again, until 8 x 4 sheets disappear with not a single thought the whole time,  feeling nothing, saying  nothing but  cut, measure, trim: is this a high or lower function? Ho, the same with paint, clay vessels empty or full, you zen knowers? And words? No words. So hearing is the most important sense in determining truth. As K says, the confessor hears the voice, does not see the face of the confessor. "Gradually, as he listens, he forms a corresponding exterior,"  for hearing the voice "reveals the inwardness which is incommensurate with the outer, so the ear is the instrument whereby that inwardness is grasped" (Preface to Either/Or).

Today, Saturday, cleaning the rooftop a/c coils  there is graffiti on the sign at the front. To get paint and go back, the car, blocked from its usual route, has to take the next turn to find these two chairs at a curb at 8 AM. Free. Please Take Me. But against better counsel I continue to finish the paint, but even then, on return they are still there...so what thought was in any of that? None. These  messages result of one being there to see. One is there by no self intent. Ear and speech lead and follow, led beside still waters, led in paths. The writers, John, Luke see and give such messages, hearing of the blood. Today if you would hear harden not your heart as in the day of provocation. Provocation melts. Hardened hearts against the voice. Hear Yahve, O Israel, Yahve Elohim.

Respecting the voices of elders, lives, to honor graves, bodies, as Abraham, Moses, Joseph  strengthen boundary stones, memory, find core root, so  fathers revive their works, remind what their ears heard, our voices speak, leading and following like ear and speech  what I would not have known or could: of course I follow.  I can no more think of not following than of not hearing. Bowden in the desert, and Barry Lopez speak of it,  no sound but the heart beat, no sound but the sound of blood rushing in the arteries and veins. On thing it makes you know the symphony of life.  All this hearing, seeing, leading, following are also like the unconscious, conscious, what Bowden calls "the place I cannot find inside myself, at least not often or easily, the place that seems to have been lost...the place where unconscious and conscious cease to have meaning, the dog in flight down the wash, the coyote watching, the snake sliding down the slope on errands never described or known...I want to move past the distinctions, past the words about life phases, species, organs, into that miasma, the same one within me, the place inside the cells, the place hidden inside the word mind, the thing flowing through the nostrils of a dog sucking in the literature of a wet spot and reading millions of years of life in a lash' (Inferno, 59). "Once I walked across a pan of blazing sand in the midday sun and heard the blood moving in my veins, my heart thumping in my chest, everything this tom-tom beat, this gurgle inside my skin and then, at that instant, I caught the distant thunder of this hearing. Also there was time when I heard rocks hum. And there was still one more time, a deeper moment, an instant on the rim of absolute terror, when I heard nothing at all, not the sigh of a breeze, not the chirp of a bird, not the churning of the sun's fires, not the scream of an insect..." (Inferno, 53).

If Bowden is a little dramatic, desperate, driven, oh well, Ezekiel had his eye placed against a chink in the wall. He saw elders bowing to snakes. This hearing is seeing, this discovery is prepared. Who gets to see and why? I have no idea. To be put in the moment, discover, is always unpleasant, the ugly, the unveiled. When have I walked in on praising, hard working artists? Always discovering sins, Charles Bowden is the only saint I can say. Bowden because he is tortured and his sins are open honest things, products of his scrutiny and circumcised heart, who hears and sees  "the line blurred and there was nothing but now, this long, persistent now...the present, a continuous and sensuous present, a silken thing like water...the days and nights becoming a pool and I dove into that pool and have never lost the sense of the waters closing over me and offering silence and a world where everything is within reach at every moment even though the idea of moments has become dubious to me" (Inferno, 95)...eyes floating for a glimpse...to seethembefore theyseeme but more importantly toseethembeforeIthinkIsee them, to be aware of their presence without being conscious of looking...floating, seeing and smelling and scraping andneverthinking, not one thought...yes, this will happen when it happens, when I get there without planning the journey, when I arrive without plotting my destination (Inferno, 83-4 compression added).

This approach is experimental. I took one book out three times before I understood its importance for my dissertation and found the part that mattered to me. In Vanuccie Biringuaccio's, Pyrotechnia, the roots of mines are compared with the roots of trees and the golden age is a material form of them. This document is online in a PDF, but the translation I used was Richard Eden's of 1540. This serendipity applied to hundreds of instances inform these searches. My search terms are supplied by continual reference to the first moment of my being and every after as I am formed by Yeshua my Lord.