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Seminar – Includes a special
presentation on Saussurean linguistics by Josef Horowitz
* Transcript of a recording by
Anna Shmerling (Fall – 2000)
Louis: Today we shall go on struggling
through Derrida’s essay “Différance”. This is our very first meeting in the
Philosophy Seminar Room (Thank goodness for that!). It is also a very special
evening, because it is Dana’s birthday!
Anna
has very kindly made photocopies of an extract from Ferdinand de Saussure’s Course in General Linguistics, and Josef
is very kindly going to give us an introduction to Saussure this evening. And,
if at the end, you are all completely mystified, please, just pop into the
Department's Office, take a look in the relevant folder, and make a copy of the
reading matter, because it might be helpful. An understanding of the basics of
Saussurean linguistics is important – certainly, in reference to this essay,
“Différance,” by Derrida. I will also try to get hold of a copy of my article
on the similarities and differences between the strategem of différance and the
phenomenological epoché, so that you will be able to have a look at that at
some point.
Josef: There
are several books about Saussure that are available in English in the Shmurim
(Reserved), and you can get them out for three days. I used it a bit. So – do
we start with the cakes or do we start with me?
Louis: I’ll leave that open for everyone else to decide…
...But,
first, thank you all for adjusting to the change in the schedule – Monday was
killing me…
The
format for this evening is entirely open, and I think that we should just sit,
chat for a little bit, have some cake, which will all go toward setting the
right atmosphere for our little soiree…
The
extracts from the work of Saussure that I have already mentioned, and a few of
which I have handed out this evening, are from the book Literary Theory: An Anthology. This is a book that is wholly made
up of tasty bite-sized chunks of wisdom from some of the major philosophical
thinkers from the Enlightenment to the Postmodern era. You'll find it in the
Shmurim.
Sergei: Sounds
like MTV.
Louis: Yes, exactly. We are
trapped within the MTV age.
Josef: The
big problem is that the whole thing about linguistics is a bit outside of what
the philosophers really read. I mean, we use the language, and they speak about
the language. But, Saussure is, in my opinion, a little bit of a philosopher of
the language. So – it is as it should be. Now – we are waiting for the cakes.
Where are the cups?
Anna: Yes.
Speaking about philosophy – where is the cake?
Louis: I’ve been reading through
“Différance” again. And, with each further reading, it continues to blow my
mind.
There
is a section that I would really like to read. Remember, in the early part of
the essay Derrida talks about the ‘a’ in différance
being a ‘graphical difference’ that
is not heard. He then goes on to say that the same, in a sense, could be said
with respect to its graphical representation, because what is actually
happening is invisible. This is the
idea that there was no originary trace – there is no original source, no archi – no fundamental starting point.
This undermines any tendency toward the continuation of foundationalist
philosophy – at least, the continuance of foundationalist thinking. Then he
points out the indifference, if you
like…
Derrida
is the ‘champion of difference’, and
yet – in this essay he is interested in the in-differentiation
between such terms as ‘passivity’ and ‘activity’. In a way, they are
intertwined. And, particularly ‘spacing’ and ‘temporalizing’ (‘temporalizing’
being derived from ‘temporizing’, which is ‘delay’, ‘to defer’, ‘to postpone’,
‘to put off until later’…) Freudian and Nietzschean thinking are very much at
work in this formulation. So, in a way, Derrida is taking a detour through indifference, in order to focus upon difference. So even difference does not
exactly constitute an origin either.
Now,
what we are going to hear about this evening is Ferdinand de Saussure’s
approach to linguistics and how – in his theorizing – language is primarily a
system of differences and relations. It does not begin with certain finite
terms, which have some kind of inherent gravity bringing them together in
determinate senses. We are talking about the ‘fabric’ – the ‘space in between’
– being that which actually constitutes
meaning.
But,
Derrida does take this whole project further forward. This section is in
reference to the Latin word differre,
where we have both ‘spacing’ and ‘temporalizing’. (p. 13):
“In
constituting itself, in dividing itself dynamically, this interval is what
might be called spacing…”
Now
– this is in reference to time. I
particularly like the way, in which in the first paragraph on page 13, Derrida
describes what is disclosed by the phenomenological approach to the structures
of temporalization.
* * *
“Let us go
on. It is because of différance that
the movement of signification is possible only if each so-called “present”
element…"
[Remember
– the signification ‘present’ is not just about ‘that which is manifest’, it
also refers to the ‘present,’ as ‘in the now’ itself].
"…each
element appearing on the scene of presence, is related to something other than
itself, thereby keeping within itself the mark of the past element, and already
letting itself be vitiated by the mark of its relation to the future element,
this trace being related no less to what is called the future than to what is
called the past, and constituting what is called the present by means of this
very relation to what it is not: what it absolutely is not, not even a past or
a future as a modified present.”
* * *
So,
you see, what Derrida is saying here is contrary to the old metaphysical model of time that begins
with the present – which is classically
thought as the ‘most real,’ since it is the criterion for the assessment of
the actuality status of anything that
is real, because that which is in the future does not yet exist, and that which
is in the past no longer exists. Derrida turns this around to say that the present itself is constituted through relations of difference – of the interplay of
different ekstases: the interpenetration of past and future. It is out of
this play of negotiation that the
present itself is constituted.
Josef: How
would you now explain it?
Louis: Think of Husserl’s Phenomenology of Internal Time
Consciousness.
Josef: Husserl
says that there are protentions and retentions. Does Derrida think that this is
the basis of his thinking, or not?
Louis: Yes. However, he
sometimes uses the expressions ‘retention’ and ‘protention’ while actually
denying such a basis. He argues that this points to an area that is opened up
by phenomenology, but that it is still inadequate to the task.
Josef: What
I mean is that Husserl, I think, took this seriously – that there is a certain
thickness to time, which is protention and retention in the present. How does
Derrida see it?
Louis: He speaks of this in
terms of trace, which resists the language of presence.
Basically,
what Derrida is saying here is that we generally think in terms of the future ‘as a present,’ which is not yet actualized, and the past ‘as a present’ that is
no longer. With the notion of the trace, he has turned this inside out. He
is saying that an absolute pastness
has always already preceded any presence,
and thus it is the trace of the absence of any kind of origin.
It is like a horizon of pastness
devoid of past things. It is an opening, a horizon that always already
precedes the present as that which is manifest
and the present as that which is now. In conjunction with this critique
of the logic of presence, Derrida gives us a kind of deepening of the
phenomenological approach to temporality that does not rest comfortably with
the idea of time as linear irreversibility.
Unlike
Kant, who says that time is the form of all inner experience – that’s
it, let’s move on – Edmund Husserl says that since the linearity / successivity
of experience, the temporality of consciousness, is that which we most take for
granted, we must turn to the question of how this form is constituted. How is that?” This question is not only
about time as a source of constitution, it also addresses the issue of the
constitution of time itself. He establishes a very radical form of discourse,
where he is ultimately led to the whole idea of a region for which names are lacking 'necessarily.’ Derrida steps
into this dimension and begins inventing a few names.
Fouad: Is
this related to symbol manipulation theories?
Louis: Definitely, but at a much deeper
level. However, I am not sure that it is relevant at this precise moment. Just hold on
for a while…
* * *
Derrida says,
“An interval
must separate the present from what it is not in order for the present to be itself…”
So,
we again relate this to what Saussure is saying about language being a system of
differences. Meaning stands out only through a relation to what it is not.
We don’t begin with a meaning that then enters into relation with something. It
is through the fabric of differentiation and postponement that meaning
stands out.
“An interval
must separate the present from what it is not in order for the present to be
itself, but this interval that constitutes it as present must, by the same
token, divide the present in and of itself, thereby also dividing, along with
the present, everything that is thought on the basis of the present, that is,
in our metaphysical language, every being, and singularly substance or the
subject. In constituting itself, in dividing itself dynamically, this interval
is what might be called spacing, the
becoming-space of time or the becoming-time of space (temporization). And it is this constitution of the present, as an
“originary” and irreducibly nonsimple (and therefore, stricto sensu nonoriginary) synthesis of marks, or traces of
retentions and protentions (to reproduce analogically and provisionally a
phenomenological and transcendental language that soon will reveal itself to be
inadequate), that I propose to call archi-writing, archi-trace, or différance. Which (is) (simultaneously)
spacing (and) temporization.”
I
think that this passage is absolutely brilliant! I can see that you are all
mystified, but – give it a chance. I hope that Josef's reading may shed some
light on this.
Josef: It
is very complicated, because this question of ‘dividing the present’, even by
an interval, sounds to me like something extremely transcendental…
Louis: Yes, it is.
Josef: ...which
means that this interval has to be outside of time and space. Because, when you
speak of this present in non-Augustinian terms – if you speak of it in
Husserlian terms – then the ‘interval’ is
the ‘present’. But, if you start talking about putting the interval inside the present, then this reminds
me very much of the famous book about ‘the flat land’ (probably, everyone here
has already read it) – about a boy who finds himself in a two-dimensional world
and starts doing all kinds of things to it. The difficulty of comprehending the
sense of our present discussion is just like this – in that it has to be
outside our dimension. Although, it is not necessarily outside Derrida’s
dimension.
Reviv: It
is outside our dimension as we normally define it.
Josef: Not
as we define it – as we can even conceive it. Look, you know that the present
philosophically is just a membrane between past and future?
Louis: Hang
on! For Saint Augustine, the present is non-extended. But, this creates many
problems. However, in this particular instance, I like the expression,
‘membrane between past and future.’ Although, it would be more appropriate to
say that it is the membrane in which the past and future are always already
intertwined.
Josef: For
us – the present is something – which exists – and we exist in the present.
But, I am now going back to my Thesis – we really only exist in the memory.
Reviv: Says
who?
Josef: Says
Josef Horowitz. My memory is capable of conceiving the future as future…
Reviv: But,
it is not a traditional memory.
Josef: Yes,
all right.
A Student: How can
you remember the future?
Josef: I
can tell you. It has nothing to do with Derrida. In my personal opinion, all
the personality is memory.
Louis: Yes,
it is. And, personality is also nothing more than a certain kind of style of memory.
First
of all, I want to provide you all with some academic background, so that you’ll
understand what Derrida means when he talks about an ‘interval’ here – that the
present is divided within itself. Remember that Derrida is a neo-Heideggerian.
In the Grundprobleme… (The Basic Problems of Phenomenology),
Heidegger analyzes Aristotle’s approach to time and that of Hegel. Here,
basically, he speaks about ‘extension’,
in the sense of ‘stretch’ / ‘extension.’
Of course, extension is also related to ‘postponement’,
but he does not always make it as thematic as Derrida does. I think, in a way,
what Derrida is doing here is deepening Heidegger’s analyses of extension by paying
greater attention to its sense as 'delay.' And, it is surely no coincidence
that the essay "Différance," in Margins
of Philosophy, is immediately followed by “Ousia and Grammē:
Note on a Note from Being and Time”
(= “Being and Line…”), where he discusses this in depth.
The
present, for Heidegger, is pure stretch. He shows that spannedness is part of its essence. Even if you were to divide it
up into a millionth of a second – it would still have breadth. So, interval is a fundamental part of its
structure.
In
a way, it is counter-intuitive, because we tend to mark off the present – mark
off the moment – as if it is discrete. But, if we get caught up in this idea of
the present being discrete, then first of all, we have the problem of trying to
explain what holds these individual (or atomic) presents together – what is the
basis of the continuum. Because, if you are living from one present to another,
and there is no continuity between, then there is no existence – or, rather,
there are only existents. To put it another way, we would have to speak of
times rather than time – since there could not be life-continuity. In such a
schema, there could not be any extension of one’s existence. This would be to
‘live’ from microsecond to microsecond without any memory of the previous time
or of any continuity whatsoever. And, without that memory there is no
possibility of anticipating the present to come (the future). In this sense,
interval as spannedness is always
already inextricably bound up with the sense of interval as a break and/or a delay. Such a break is also a fundamental
condition of the possibility of continuity by opening up successivity as
‘alteration.’ It gives the stretching out of temporality rather than the mere
spannedness of a simultaneous differentiality. However, the experience of
alteration also presupposes a structurality that must abide throughout the
alteration.
So,
what we’ve got here is a number of apparently disparate elements being brought
together. The importance of memory really cannot be overstated. I think that
Derrida is working with the theme[s] of ‘spannedness’ and ‘extension’ in a way
that Heidegger does but, as I said before, he tends to give particular emphasis
to the sense of delay in such an extension.
Josef: We
shall be talking about the synchronic and the diachronic here – in what
constitutes the language. Now, we can look at time as synchronic, but then – it
is infinitely big.
Diachronic means that you consider things in time as it creates
itself – existing in time, within the time. You can say ‘historically’, but he
does not want to use this word here. Then you have synchronic – i.e. what happens at the same time at any period of
time. This present, which is almost inexistent in any way – synchronically, it
is infinite. Because, at the same time we are whole… Within our consciousness
we are within this synchronic moment of time. We pass it all together.
There was an idiotic picture on
television recently about people who got lost in time. The characters pass
through some sort of gate, and find themselves just five minutes behind time.
However, they could not come back into the time. So, they came everywhere, but
– nobody was there… I like the idea very much. But, in this picture, after
almost everybody died, they came back through the same gate, but that doesn’t
matter.
Time is running with us, and we are
running with time. We cannot go back one minute. In spite of the fact that we
get the light from the Sun as it was approximately eight minutes before. But,
still – we are in the synchronic horizon of time. So, maybe (I don’t know –
I’ve read Derrida and read Derrida – not so very much, but still I am trying to
understand) – I think, maybe that he is thinking about this – that there is an
infinity of time in the present.
Louis: This
sounds very Kierkegaardian.
Sören Kierkegaard speaks about living a lifetime in a second. He talks
about the difference between the comedic and pathetic as two radically
different temporal orientations. On the one hand, you can say: that one hundred
years is like no time at all (the compression of a historian). On the other
hand, the existential moment of decision
– which is always a kind of leap of faith – can appear infinitely extended;
that is, one can live a lifetime in an
instant. According to Kierkegaard, we are a synthesis of the infinite
and the finite. The more I read
Derrida, the more Kierkegaardian he seems.
Fouad: I
think that if you talk about time like this, it is very deterministic. Because,
he is saying that there is some kind of template, let’s say, which is…
Louis: Who
is saying this? We have just talked about two different temporal forms here.
Fouad: I
was talking about the synchronic perception of time. When you say that there is
no continuity in it…
Louis: Hang
on – where did that come from?
Josef: I
said that you can consider time diachronically and synchronically. For
instance, if we speak of phenomenology, it sees time in two totally different
respects. One is the flux, and another one is the time as we more or less live
it. But, the real time (I think, as a matter of fact, Bergson was not quite
right about this) is the time that is the basis of our life – which we cannot
really describe, or understand, we just know that it is.
Fouad: That
is why I am saying that it is deterministic. Because, it is just ‘there’, and
we are living it.
Josef: The
time itself – absolutely.
Fouad: I’d
say, the future is known.
Louis: But,
it isn’t. We are not talking about a deterministic or teleological temporality.
It has structurality – there is something architectural about it, in a way –
but you must make a distinction between the structurality
of the temporal flux and the effects
that are produced by that structure.
Fouad: Have
you seen the movie “Run, Lola, Run”? You should see it – it is very
existentialistic.
A Student: …Exaustentialistic!
Fouad: Yeah
– exhaustentialistic, indeed.
Josef: She
runs all the way.
Mor: Yes.
It is a German film. Three times the same story, only somewhat different.
Louis: I’ve
heard about this film. It actually picks up on a very contemporary theme...yes,
it is always different – there is always slippage – substitute temporalities
with quantum (alternate) realities.
Fouad: She
runs three times through the same basic situations (five points), and totally
different outcomes happen each time.
Louis: All
right. When you don’t have different outcomes – that’s when it is
deterministic; and that is not what we were saying.
Just
because you have a repetition of a
certain structurality, it doesn’t
mean that you are going to end up with the same
result. For instance, if you take the Hegelian
dialectic – you have the movement of thesis,
antithesis, then the moment of sublation, which is
determinate negation / conservation, which then produces a new thesis, antithesis, and so on – and you have this ceaseless movement
onward. But, the point is that the effects that are produced through this
movement are always open. It does not mean that the outcome is always going to
be the same. There is no telos lying in the future that exerts a kind of
backward causation on all the precedes it. What is important is the actual
repetition of the structurality itself, but that is not to be confused with the
actual states of affairs that grow out of this movement. The events can be
different each time. The point is that whatever
event occurs, this structurality
is already presupposed. But, that is
not deterministic.
Fouad: You
need an event, in order for this structurality to have any kind of meaning. The
structurality on its own does not have any meaning, without some kind of
difference.
Louis: Yes.
But, I still don’t understand why you imagine that there is still a
deterministic element at work.
Josef: I
think that he has a point. I mean, there is a deterministic element to it,
which tells us that time has only one direction. We cannot really think about
time having many directions – except in memory or in our personality, where we
can go backwards and forwards. Heidegger did not see anything else – that is
what he said: Within ourselves we live all the ekstases at the same time. This
doesn’t mean ‘really at the same time’ – we are free to wander. So, maybe, this
is what he thinks – that within ourselves, the present is not the present – it
is time, and time is … whatever.
Louis: Of
course, we do know that when Ferdinand de Saussure speaks of synchrony in his linguistics, it knows
nothing of time. He speaks of time at
the level of diachrony. But, there is
a bias in his discourse in which which diachrony
is only possible because of the dimension of synchrony. Although he does admit that there is a kind of feedback loop where the diachronic movement does ultimately
produce changes within the synchronic
system, he is still basically pushing time
out to a position that is actually extererior to language…
Josef: He
is not a philosopher. For him, time in the development of language is less
important.
Louis: Okay.
However, this view undergoes a transvaluation in Derrida’s thinking with
respect to Saussure’s order of priorities. He restores time right at the heart of synchrony.
Because, for him, synchrony is about repetition, iterability (as he calls it). And, this is the fundamental
possibility of that which we would ordinarily ascribe to synchrony alone.
Sergei: I
remember, we have already been through this before. Now, I want to turn back to
it with a whole different story. Remember, what I said about ‘différance making
protention and retention irrelevant’? And I said: ‘Not irrelevant, but
sometimes it will, and sometimes it won’t’ – remember that?
Louis: Yes.
Sergei: Well,
what I thought is that différance is the part of the sign that makes protention
and retention possible.
Josef: Absolutely.
Sergei: But,
why do I want to talk about it? Well, the way I’ve put it: it is a complement
to Husserl’s protention and retention. But, not in such a way as Derrida
suggests that it will eventually make protention and retention inadequate.
Louis: That’s
right.
And,
also, at the end of this essay (“Différance”),
Derrida says that the trace is not reducible to retention. This is very
disingenuous of him, because one would want to say: Hang on, Monsieur Derrida! If
you say that the trace is not reducible to retention, I would agree. Who else
would claim that it was? In every aspect of the discourse on the trace, you
have been talking about both retention and
protention up until now. And now – you just talk about retention.
The
trace can certainly be understood in
terms of the play of retention and
protention, and so for Derrida to say that the trace is irreducible to
retention as a way of stressing an important difference in degree of radicality
between phenomenology and deconstruction is kind of an illegitimate move on his
part. I suppose that we could basically say: Yes, but both retention and protention
are dependent on différance, so it
doesn’t matter anyway. However, even that is still an illegitimate move, if one
understands that even différance does not
govern theologically the totality of its field. Différance is no-thing.
Within Derrida's play of substituting names, the trace cannot stand in as
something that is even more primordial than the play of retention and
protention.
Josef: Speaking
of the ‘trace of nothing’ is very complicated. I must say, it is even a bit
above my understanding.
Louis: Well,
hang on a moment. Do you not remember the final lecture that I gave last year
about the methodological, theoretical, and strategic relations between
phenomenology and deconstruction? That was all about the ‘trace’.
All
right – the way I look at it is basically like this: The ‘-ance’ of différance
remains undecided between the passive
and the active. The point is that
with the trace, with différance as the production of all differences
and – again, on a semantic level –
the production of positive terms,
through this play of difference, relay, reserve, postponement, delay, interval (which has
spatial resonances and temporal
resonances) – basically what we are left with, because it remains undecided
between the passive and the active, is that through the production of differences
it must necessarily erase itself.
And, the point is that this is not an originary activity that
then erases itself. Erasure is
already part of its structure, which
means that in its production of differences it always already presupposes its erasure.
This absence, as an originary part of
its structure, is one of the most fundamental aspects of différance, and in the end you always have to fall back on the ‘always already’.
Fouad: Is
différance something considered ‘in itself’?
Louis: No
– not as something that is supposed to be originally extant.
Fouad: It
is just something that you can’t speak of.
Josef: Something
we can’t live without and that we don’t understand at all.
Louis: It’s
the play – the play of differences.
Because, difference – unlike its conception in the usual tradition – is not reducible to opposites: negative and
positive. There are many different kinds of differences that don’t necessarily
cancel each other out – differences in modality, quality, and intensity, etc. –
differences in dimension / dimensional differences.
Reviv: But,
you can’t say that we don’t understand it at all. After you’ve read Derrida,
you know something more about it, than you knew before.
Josef: All
right – that’s legitimate. I agree with you.
Reviv: So,
it is the same about ‘nothing’.
Josef: Even
the resistance that the written evokes in anybody who has read…
Reviv: If
you resist something, then there is already something to resist.
Josef: I
agree.
Reviv: Maybe,
when you say that you don’t know anything, then you know something, but you
still don’t know what you don’t know…
Louis: Let's
not get bogged down by classical epistemological conundrums.
Derrida
writes
“The practice
of a language or of a code supposing a play of forms without the determined and
invariable substance, and also supposing in the practice of this play a
retention and protention of differences, a spacing and a temporization, a play
of traces – all this must be a kind of writing before the letter, an
archi-writing without a present origin, without archi-.”
* * *
‘Always
already’ before the letter, before language, before the spoken word. So,
‘writing’ has a whole constellation of different meanings for Derrida, but he
wants to maintain the word ‘writing’, because of its obvious connection to the mundane empirical sense – in the sense
that all understanding, all language is through tradition, through writing,
through reading, assimilation through the dissemination of texts. So, it is the
actual graphic inscription in the empirical form that is passed on as the
vehicle of tradition – libraries, culture, language, TV, media, etc. That’s a
very important part of it. But, also a writing
that precedes that impression, that erases itself – the play of
an archi-writing that is always already erased in the presencing of
meaning. The erasure, or holding back of presence is coincidental with the
manifestation of sense. It is essential to its structure.
Think
about the functioning of a sign. When
we look at a sign, our gaze does not terminate in the sign. We look at that
towards which the sign is pointing. So, in a sense, part of the fundamental structure and performance
of a sign has to do with its own self-erasure. It is how it functions –
by erasing itself. It does not necessarily stand out as an object, as a proxy
for something else – in which case, it would be a symbol – which does not
address the dimension of signification about which we are speaking.
* * *
Derrida
continues…
“The practice
of a language or of a code supposing a play of forms without the determined and
invariable substance, and also supposing in the practice of this play a
retention and protention of differences, a spacing and a temporization, a play
of traces – all this must be a kind of writing before the letter, an
archi-writing without a present origin, without archi-.”
* * *
I
know that it is still difficult to get your head around it, but it is crucial.
Whatever one might say, Derrida is remarkably consistent in his formulations. He can do this, because he is a
phenomenologist (note the comfortable manner in which Derrida utilizes
Husserl’s phenomenological expressions of temporalization, retention, and
protention) – and thus he is able to maintain a number of different (and
sometimes, oppositional) orientations / perspectives simultaneously.
Josef: He
is, in some way, speaking about what constancy is. There exists in us a
capacity for imaginality and a capacity for language – to absorb it, and first
to speak it, and then, maybe, to write it. But, this capacity is in us.
Louis: And,
the ‘capacity’ means ‘ability’.
And,
when Derrida speaks of iterability –
we are introduced to the thought of both the structure and genesis of ‘repetition’. ‘Iter’ means ‘other’ and also ‘repetition’, and the particle ‘re’ of re-presentation, means ‘again’
and ‘against.’ All these conjunctions
are in play in iter-ability – the
‘ability’ for repetition, and for Derrida this is the basis of the possibility of the synchronous dimension that Saussure
talks about. Now, once you understand that – repeatability already involves diachrony,
at least in a virtual form, if not
necessarily in an empirical sense.
Derrida has effectrively restored diachrony to the heart of synchrony. Thus, the difference
between spacing and temporalizing is pretty hard to pinpoint
– there isn’t one, they always already implicate one another.
Josef: It
is like a spiral.
Louis: Yes,
exactly. Derrida's writing is full of spirals. The labyrinthine quality of his writing
is precisely the result of the tracing of multiple helical structures.
But,
the thing is that it is only because there is an overlapping between empirical moments that the orthographic differences that occur in
the evolution of language through time are such that they affect the system. There is no pure domain of the transcendental for Derrida. It is always
infected by the empirical or mundane sphere. This is very important
in order to understand his writing. So, in a way, even though it seems absolutely
meta-transcendental – ironically, it
is always kind of like a detour that
brings us back out into the world at
the same time.
Anyway
– please let Joseph begin without further interruption…
Josef: No,
on the contrary – I did not want to interrupt you.
Reviv: May
we have one last interruption before you actually begin? Going back to the
conversation about deconstruction – you said that the ‘erasing’ is already
built into the act…
Louis: All
I can say here is that erasure is the passivity that already inhabits the activity of erasing.
Reviv: In
this respect, erasing / erasure is no longer like a destructive activity…
Louis: It
is also constitutive…
Reviv: The
erasing is what chains the thing together, where each link in the erasure also
holds it apart. So it is like constructing something new.
Josef: This
is bringing it to a very (how to say?) right point. This is obvious.
Louis: When we speak of ‘erasure’, we automatically assume that
there was an original presence that
has been erased. But, there was no
substance, there was no originary starting point that then erased itself.
It is the movement of erasure, not that which is erased. It is the movement, the play of differential forces
that are to be taken into account. It is like looking at the field of wheat
that is being stirred by the wind – one doesn’t see the wind / the air, but one
sees its effects on something else.
Reviv: And,
also, there is no original position with respect to how the wheat is arranged –
we just see movement. We can’t say – this is an original position, but now it’s
moving.
Louis: That’s right.
Josef: You
cannot pretend that there is no ontic, that nothing is ontic. The ontic exists.
You don’t know much about it, but it exists. And, it is it that is in the movement. There is no beginning, there is no end
– alright. But, something is moving.
Louis: Okay.
Now we are going to shut up.
Josef: Now,
I have a few things that I want to read to you.
Why am I reading what the original
writers (if one is still permitted to say such a thing) wrote? Because I made
the decision that those people wrote it much better, than I ever could. But,
anyhow, I shall try to present to you the main thoughts of Saussure. Of course,
it will be only something that is completely rudimentary, but – better, than
nothing. Whoever wants to read about it – I can furnish you with a very
comprehensive bibliography.
Saussure was a genius. When he was
at School (I think he first studied in Geneva), he admitted to a friend of his,
who later became his student, an idea that the ‘a’s in the Indo-European
Languages are necessarily nasal, which brings us back to the ‘différance’. But, this is just an anecdote
that has nothing to do with my presentation except to say that – contrary to
Derrida's strategem – it would not be easy to signify this difference in
writing, but only orally.
By the way, if anybody wants to ask
anything, you can stop me. Since I have it all written, I shall remember how I
finish and how I begin. So, stop me, ask me – do whatever you want. Not all
questions will be answered.
* * *
_____________________________________________________________________
C.L.G.
= Cours de Linguistique Generale (Course in General Linguistics)
trans. by Roy Harris, ed. Open Court, La Salle Ill. 1986.
New
Horizons in Linguistics, ed. John Lyons, Penguin, 1971.
_____________________________________________________________________
Saussure [is] the founder of structural
linguistics and of structuralism in general. [We shall speak about it later.] He
was born in 1857 in Geneva and died in 1913 in the region of Geneva – in Kanton
Waadt.
He studied in Leipzig [At that time in Leipzig the most important school was that of ‘New
Grammarians’, as they called themselves.] under
a certain Bruggmann, one of the most important linguists of the time. [The Germans did not like him very much, despite his
being a genius, but accepted him and taught him]. His
dissertations were on Sanskrit [and Indo-European
languages], and one of them postulated the importance of
the vowels in the development of the language.
[Even while he was in Leipzig, he
was already a member of the Society for Linguistics in Paris.]
The Leipzig school says that separate languages
change according to certain laws of spoken sounds. [Which means that, in a way, when you look at the development of the
languages, there are certain laws for the change of the spoken sounds within
those languages, which change essentially and historically. And – I shall read
it to you later – the whole way of looking at linguistics at that time was
historical. But, anyhow -] This is the beginning of
Saussure’s differentiation between “Langue” (language) and “parole” (speech). [He also had something, which is called “Langage”,
which is, so to speak, something that comprises the Langue and Parole. We shall
speak about it later.]
1881 – 1891 he studied and taught at the Ecole des Hautes Etudes in Paris [which was at that time, and until today, the top
institution].
From 1892 till 1912 (one year before his death)
he was professor at the Geneva university. [Now he published things, but not much.]
It seems that he hated writing. In a letter of
1910 to Meillet he called himself an epistolophobe.
So his most important work [- the one that changed the way people see almost
everything] “Course
de Linguistique Generale” has been compiled after his death by Charles
Bally and Albert Sechehaye [who were
Professors at the Geneva University] from various notes
and mostly from notes taken by his few students at three courses in linguistics
given at the Geneva University. It was published in 1916 [which means – four years after his death]. There have been quite a number of critical editions [in all languages],
and the idea of structuralism slowly gained momentum.
(C.L.G.
Translator’s Introduction IX-XI) I
The
revolution Saussure ushered in has rightly been described as ‘Copernican’. For
instead of men’s words being seen as peripheral to men’s understanding of
reality, men’s understanding of reality came to be seen as revolving about
their social use of verbal signs. In the Cours
de linguistique générale we see this new approach clearly articulated for
the first time. Words are not vocal labels, which have come to be attached to
things and qualities already given in advance by Nature, or to ideas already
grasped independently by the human mind. On the contrary languages themselves,
collective products of social interaction, supply the essential conceptual
frameworks for men’s analysis of reality and, simultaneously, the verbal
equipment for their description of it. [Is that clear, or do I have to
explain it? After Derrida everything is clear. {General laughter}] The concepts we use are creations of
the language we speak. [Not vice versa.]
Saussure’s
standing as the founder of modern linguistics remains unchallenged more than
half a century after his death. It is based on two facts. One fact is that
Saussure, although only one among many distinguished linguists of his day, was
the first to recognize the particular range of theoretical questions which had
to be answered if linguistics was ever to take its place among the sciences.
The other fact is that Saussure himself proposed answers to those questions,
which have remained either the basis or the point of departure for all
subsequent linguistic theory within the academic discipline, which thereafter
claimed the designation ‘linguistics’. [Which means that there are two
different linguistics: linguistics before Saussure and linguistics after
Saussure.]
This dual
achievement suffices to explain Saussure’s pivotal place in the evolution of
language studies. But he plays a no less crucial role when his work is seen in
a wider cultural context. For the founder of modern linguistics at the same
time founded semiology, the general science of signs, within which linguistics
was to be one special branch. In so doing, Saussure opened up a new approach to
the study of many other human patterns of behaviour. It was an approach later
to be exploited by theorists in such diverse fields as art, architecture,
philosophy, literary criticism and social anthropology. The implications of
Saussure’s technique for dealing with linguistic analysis extend far beyond the
boundaries of language, in ways which make the Cours de linguistique générale without doubt one of the most
far-reaching works concerning the study of human cultural activities to have
been published at any time since the Renaissance.
* * *
Fouad: I
have a question. Was he also the father of anthropology (Levi Strauss)?
Josef: He
wasn’t the father, but Levi Strauss used structuralist technique. We shall name
some people at the end.
* * *
Saussure’s
proposals for the establishment of linguistics as an independent science may –
at the risk of making them sound rather unexciting [if possible] – be summarized as follows. He
rejected the possibility of an all-embracing science of language, which would
deal simultaneously with physiological, sociological, philosophical and
psychological aspects of the subject. Instead, he proposed to cut through the
perplexing maze of existing approaches to the study of linguistic phenomena by
setting up a unified discipline, based upon a single, clearly defined concept:
that of the linguistic sign. The
essential feature of Saussure’s linguistic sign is that, being intrinsically
arbitrary, it can be identified only by contrast with coexisting signs of the
same nature, which together constitute a structured system. By taking this
position, Saussure placed modern linguistics in the vanguard of
twentieth-century structuralism.
It was a
position, which committed Saussure to drawing a radical distinction between diachronic (or evolutionary) linguistics
and synchronic (or static)
linguistics, {and giving priority to the latter.
For words, sounds and construction connected solely by processes of historical
development over the centuries cannot possibly, according to Saussure’s
analysis, enter into structural relations with one another, any more than
Napoleon’s France and Caesar’s Rome can be structurally united under one and
the same political system.}
Saussure was
the first to question whether the historical study of languages could possibly
provide a satisfactory foundation for a science of linguistics. The question
was as profound as it was startling: for the assumption most of Saussure’s
contemporaries made was that historical philology already had provided the only possible scientific foundation. [Which means that they
thought that really the linguistics as it was before Saussure, based on
diachronic study, was the only science of linguistics that was possible.]
Where
historical philology had failed, in Saussure’s opinion, was in simply not recognizing
the structural nature of the linguistic sign. As a result, it has concentrated
upon features, which were merely superficially and adventitiously describable
in mankind’s recorded linguistic history. The explanations philological
historians provided were in the final analysis simply appeals to the past. They
did not – and could not – offer any analysis of what a language is from the
viewpoint of its current speakers. Whereas for Saussure it was only by adopting the users’ point of
view that a language could be seen to be a coherently organized structure,
amenable to scientific study. For linguistic signs, Saussure insisted, do not
exist independently of the complex system of contrasts implicitly recognized in
the day-to-day vocal interactions of a given community of speakers.
* *
*
The language is divided into three domains: Language, Langue and Parole.
Langue and Parole are insufficient and have to be studied with the aid of
different social sciences: Sociology, Ethnology, History, Psychology, Physiology
etc.
Only Language as a system of signs can be seen
as autonomous and inclusive. A new science is founded: Semiology (of signs).
(C.L.G.
Introduction, p. 15-16) III
§3. Languages
and their place in human affairs. Semiology
{The above characteristics lead us to
realize another, which is more important. A language, defined in this way from
among the totality of facts of language, has a particular place in the realm of
human affairs, whereas language does not.}
A language,
as we have just seen, is a social institution. But it is in various respects
distinct from political, juridical and other institutions. Its special nature
emerges when we bring into consideration a different order of facts.
A language
is a system of signs expressing ideas, and hence comparable to writing {the deaf-and-dumb alphabet, symbolic rites,
forms of politeness, military signals, and so on. It is simply the most
important of such systems.}
It is
therefore possible to conceive of a science, which studies the role of signs as part of social life. It would form
part of social psychology, and hence of general psychology. [This is already Saussure
himself speaking.] We
shall call it semiology¹ (from the
Greek sēmeion, ‘sign’). It
would investigate the nature of signs and the laws governing them. Since it
does not yet exist, one cannot say for certain that it will exist. But it has a
right to exist, a place ready for it in advance. Linguistics is only one branch
of this general science. The laws which semiology will discover will be laws
applicable in linguistics, and linguistics will thus be assigned to a clearly
defined place in the field of human knowledge. [Which means, really, that he thinks
that semiology will be the entire
field of human knowledge.]
_____________________________________________________________________
¹ Not to be confused with semantics, which studies changes of meaning. Saussure gave no
detailed exposition of semantics, but the basic principle to be applied is
stated on p.[109]. (Editorial note)
* * *
I repeat that there are 2 points of view of
linguistics: diachronic – development and history, synchronic – research of the
actual system of language.
(New
Horizons – pp. 15-16) III
(1)
SYNCHRONIC AND DIACHRONIC. Throughout the nineteenth century linguistic
research was very strongly historical in character. One of the principal aims
of the subject was to group languages into ‘families’ (of which the
Indo-European family is the best known) on the basis of their independent
development from a common source. The description of particular languages was
made subsidiary to this general aim; and there was little interest in the study
of the language of a given community without reference to historical
considerations. Saussure’s distinction between the diachronic and the
synchronic investigation of language is a distinction between these two
opposing viewpoints. Diachronic (or historical) linguistics studies the
development of languages through time: for example, the way in which French and
Italian have ‘evolved’ from Latin. Synchronic linguistics (sometimes referred
to rather inappropriately as ‘descriptive’ linguistics) investigates the way
people speak in a given speech community at a given point in time. It is now
generally agreed that (due attention having been given to the definition of
‘speech community’) the history of a language is in principle irrelevant to its
synchronic description: but this fact was not generally appreciated by earlier
linguists. (There is a chapter by Paul Kiparsky on historical linguistics later
in the book, pp. 302-15.)
(2)
LANGUE AND PAROLE. [I spoke about this before. I said that the language
comprises Langue and Parole. Langage is what we would call, maybe, language.
Langue is the entire complex of language, which is inside us as persons and as
community. Parole is how this is pronounced, said. It is a very complicated
thing, and Saussure tries to explain the whole transition. But, we are not
going to do it, because otherwise we will sit here till tomorrow morning.] What is meant by the distinction of langue and parole (for which there are no generally accepted equivalents in
English) may be explained by taking Saussure’s own analogy of a musical
performance. Every performance of a particular piece of music is unique, in the
sense that it differs from every other performance in innumerable ways. And yet
we say that they are all performances of the same work. What they have in
common (and it is in terms of this that we identify them) is a certain structure, which is itself independent
of the physical medium in which it is realized when the work is performed. In
much the same way, we can say that there is a common structure ‘underlying’ the
utterances, which we produce when we speak a particular language. Utterances are
instances of parole. The underlying
structure in terms of which we produce them as speakers and understand them as
hearers is the langue in question
(English, Chinese, etc.). Like the structure of a piece of music, it is
independent of the physical medium (or substance)
in which it is realized. There are, of course, some obvious and important
differences between speaking a language and performing a piece of music, the
structure of which has been fully specified in advance by the composer. [While we speak, we
create. The composer created once, and he is, sort of, the basis.] The analogy must not be pressed too
far. It is by no means clear that the language spoken by all the members of a
given speech community is as uniform, and structurally determinate, as Saussure
assumed (see the chapter on sociolinguistics by John Pride, pp. 287-301). There
can be little doubt, however, that some kind of distinction between langue and parole must be drawn, with or without these more particular
assumptions. Chomsky (1965: 4) has made a similar distinction in terms of competence (langue) and performance (parole).
(3)
STRUCTURALISM. We have just seen that the language spoken by a
particular speech community has a certain structure (or, to use Saussure’s own
term, a certain form), which can be
considered and described independently of the substance in which it is realized. This rather abstract conception
of the nature of language is summed up in the term ‘structuralism’ (in one
sense, at least, of this rather fashionable word).
As developed
by Saussure and his more direct followers, the ‘structural’ approach to the
analysis of language involves the segmentation of utterances into elements in
terms of two basic, and complementary, relations: syntagmatic and paradigmatic
(Saussure’s own term was ‘associative’). What is meant by these terms may be
made clear by means of a simple example. Why do we say that the phrase my new car in English consists of three
elements (three words) rather than, say, of four or two? The answer, according
to Saussure, rests upon the notion of substitutability. We can substitute the, his that, etc., for my in the first position; old, beautiful, etc., for new in the second position; and picture, book, etc., for car in the third position. There are
three, and only three, places where the operation of substitution can be
carried out (at this level of analysis). Sets of elements which can be
substituted one for another in a given context are said to be in paradigmatic relationship; elements which
combine to form a larger unit [which means, “my
new car” as it is, a development which can be made – “My new car was stolen…”, etc.] are said to be in syntagmatic relationship. [We have here a little
reminder of what happened before in the question of synchronic and diachronic.
But, here we speak of the possibilities of changing language already in the
synchronic mode.]
* * *
But what is this sign? [And here we shall let Saussure speak.]
(C.L.G.
pp. 65-66, 67, 68a, b, 69-70, 71-72) III/B.
§3. Sign,
signification, signal
For some
people a language, reduced to its essentials, is a nomenclature: a list of
terms corresponding to a list of things. This conception is open to a number of
objections. It assumes that ideas already exist independently of words (see
below, p. [155]). It does not clarify whether the name is a vocal or a
psychological entity, for ARBOR might
stand for either. Furthermore, it leads one to assume that the link between a
name and a thing is something quite unproblematic, which is far from being the
case. None the less, this naïve view contains one element of truth, which is
that linguistic units are dual in nature, comprising two elements.
As has
already been noted (p. [28]) in connection with the speech circuit, the two
elements involved in the linguistic sign are both psychological and are
connected in the brain by an associative link.¹ This is a point of major
importance.
A linguistic
sign is not a link between a thing and a name, but between a concept and a
sound pattern.² The sound pattern is not actually a sound; for a sound is
something physical. A sound pattern is the hearer’s psychological impression of
a sound, as given to him by the evidence of his senses. [Is that clear?]
* * *
Fouad: I
think it’s amazing! I am studying a course on psycholinguistics, and they are
saying exactly the same thing. They are talking about prosody, which is ‘the
sounds behind the thing’…
Josef: Obviously
– Saussure is already there.
Fouad: Yeah!
He is already there. It is amazing!
* * *
This sound
pattern may be called a ‘material’ element only in that it is the
representation of our sensory impressions. [Even Spinoza talked about it.] The sound pattern may thus be
distinguished from the other element associated with it in a linguistic sign.
This other element is generally of a more abstract kind: the concept. [So, we have sound, as
perceived, and the concept.]
{The psychological nature of our
sound patterns becomes clear when we consider our own linguistic activity.
Without moving either lips or tongue, we can talk to ourselves or recite
silently a piece of verse. We grasp the words of a language as sound patterns.
That is why it is best to avoid referring to them as composed of ‘speech
sounds’. Such a term, implying the activity of the vocal apparatus, is
appropriate to the spoken word, to the actualization of the sound pattern in
discourse. Speaking of the sounds and
syllables of a word need not give rise
to any misunderstanding,³ provided one always bears in mind that this refers to
the sound pattern.
* * * Diagram!
The
linguistic sign is, then, a two-sided psychological entity, which may be
represented by the following diagram (top of p. 67).
These two
elements are intimately linked and each triggers the other. Whether we are
seeking the meaning of the Latin word arbor
or the word by which Latin designates the concept ‘tree’, it is clear that only
the connections institutionalized in the language appear to us as relevant. Any
other connections there may be we set on one side.
This
definition raises an important question of terminology. In our terminology a sign is the combination of a concept and
a sound pattern. But in current usage the term sign generally refers to the sound pattern alone, e.g. the word
form arbor. It is forgotten that if arbor is called a sign, it is only
because it carries with it the concept ‘tree’, so that the sensory part of the
term implies reference to the whole.
The ambiguity
would be removed if the three notions in question were designated by terms,
which are related but contrast. We propose to keep the term sign to designate the whole, but to
replace concept and sound pattern respectively by signification and signal. The latter terms have the advantage of indicating the
distinction which separates each from the other and both from the whole of
which they are part. We retain the term sign,
because current usage suggests no alternative by which it might be replaced.
The linguistic
sign thus defined has two fundamental characteristics. In specifying them, we
shall lay down the principles governing all studies in this domain.}
§2. First principle: the sign is arbitrary
[The
link between signal and signification… – it is called by Saussure ‘signifiant’
and ‘signifié’. Signifiant is the
active part – it is the signal. I
prefer to say it in French, but these are the ‘signifier’ and the ‘signified’.]
The link
between signal and signification is arbitrary. Since we are treating a sign as
the combination in which a signal is associated with a signification, we can
express this more simply as: the
linguistic sign is arbitrary.
* * *
Which means – it has not been created
by any association with the things that it describes. Except for the words,
which are onomatopoeic, like ‘bakbuk’ and others, but when Saussure speaks
about it, he doesn’t take them into account. He says that the signs have been
invented arbitrarily.
Louis: Oh,
yes! It is onomatopoeic – ‘buk-buk-buk-buk…’ – Oh, right! Okay, I apologise for
the outburst, but I'm presently learning Hebrew.
Josef: ‘Bakbuk’,
by the way, is mentioned in Rablaise very often. He spoke very good Hebrew,
really. For him ‘bakbuk’ means the divine.
Louis: So…he
was an alcoholic? Just joking!
* * *
{There is no internal connection, for
example, between the idea ‘sister’ and the French sequence of sounds s-ö-r which acts as its signal. The same
idea might as well be represented by any other sequence of sounds. This is
demonstrated by differences between languages, and even by the existence of
different languages. The signification ‘ox’ has as its signal b-ö-f on one side of the frontier,¹ but o-k-s (Ochs) on the other side.}
No one
disputes the fact that linguistic signs are arbitrary. But it is often easier
to discover a truth than to assign it to its correct place. The principle
stated above is the organizing principle for the whole of linguistics,
considered as a science of language structure. The consequences which flow from
this principle are innumerable. It is true that they do not all appear at first
sight equally evident. One discovers them after many circuitous deviations, and
so realizes the fundamental importance of the principle.
The word arbitrary also calls for comment. It
must not be taken to imply that a signal depends on the free choice of the
speaker. (We shall see later that the individual has no power to alter a sign
in any respect once it has become established in a linguistic community.) The
term implies simply that the signal is unmotivated – that is to say arbitrary
in relation to its signification, with which it has no natural connection in
reality.
* * *
Sergei: Josef,
may I ask a question?
Josef: Yes,
of course.
Sergei: First
– about the sign being arbitrary. Well, there is, actually, the historical
study of languages – this word came from Latin, that word came from Greek, or from
Arabic, etc. – there is such a thing. And, there are words, which are derived
from other words in different languages or in the same language… And, what he
meant to say is that the ‘original sign’ is arbitrary, and that all the…
Josef: Yes
– absolutely. I mean, he does not make an abstraction out of the historical
development. He just says that the way that we say ‘pen’ or ‘shulhan’ – this
thing has been created...
Sergei: Yes
– any other sign could have been in its place.
Josef: He
also says that it might be that it has been created from another sign that was
created. For instance, we know that ‘widower’ is derived from ‘widow’. But,
this does not change his essential point. Of course, there is a chain of
meanings, of development, also of the form of the word – it is obvious. But, as
a matter of fact, he says, whenever we do that we invent the words, and we use
them as they are invented.
Mor: Is
he talking of inventing something that never existed – the original?
Josef: He
is not a philosopher.
Sergei: That’s
good?
Josef: It
is a very good question, but he is no philosopher.
Reviv: Josef,
I have a question for you. This idea that the signs are arbitrary – does this
remain 'uncontested in linguistics'?
Josef: As
far as I know, yes. He even thinks that it is one of the basic tenets of
linguistics in general – that there is no absolute connection between the
thing, as it is, and the sign of the thing, as he describes it. Usually, people
didn’t say ‘the sign’ – they said ‘the word’.
Louis: It
involves a form of linguistic epoché.
Josef: In
a sense.
Louis: Hmm…Derrida
implements this very well.
* * *
The
linguistic signal, being auditory in nature, has a temporal aspect and has certain
temporal characters: (a) it occupied a
certain temporal space, and (b) thiS
space is measured in just one dimension: it is a line.
This
principle is obvious, but it seems never to have been stated, doubtless because
it is considered too elementary. However, it is a fundamental principle and its
consequences are incalculable. Its importance equals that of the first law. The
whole mechanism of linguistic structure depends upon it (cf. p. [170]). Unlike
visual signals (e.g. ships’ flags) which can exploit more than one dimension
simultaneously, auditory signals have available to them only the linearity of
time. The elements of such signals are presented one after another: they form a
chain. This feature appears immediately when they are represented in writing,
and a spatial line of graphic signs is substituted for a succession of sounds
in time.
* * *
What he says is that the graphic is
simultaneous. This whole book is in front of me at the same time, but if I want
to read it – I have to read it in time. We read in time, and we speak in time,
but the printed signals are simultaneous with time. The whole library is there
at the same time.
Reviv: But,
that means nothing, because in order for it to mean something…
Josef: This
is one of the big problems of Derrida {General laughter} – the distinction between the written form
and the spoken form, which he derives from Plato’s Timaeus, and so on, and so
on. I think that each time we see this head of Derrida looking at us from
inside this text – somewhere I have a feeling that each time he looks at me, he
winks…
* * *
§1. Invariability
The signal,
in relation to the idea it represents, may seem to be freely chosen. However,
from the point of view of the linguistic community, the signal is imposed
rather than freely chosen. Speakers are not consulted about its choice. Once
the language has selected a signal, it cannot be freely replaced by any other.
There appears to be something rather contradictory about this. It is a kind of
linguistic Hobson’s choice. [Which means, e.g., if I give you two possibilities,
and you have to decide which one is good, but – as a matter of fact, you cannot
decide, because they are equally good.] What can be chosen is already determined in
advance. No individual is able, even if he wished, to modify in any way a
choice already established in the language. Nor can the linguistic community
exercise its authority to change even a single word.¹ [You cannot change words by order or
by decision – they are there.] The community, as much as the individual, is bound to its language.
A language
cannot therefore be treated simply as a form of contract, and the linguistic
sign is a particularly interesting phenomenon to study for this reason. For if
we wish to demonstrate that the rules a community accepts are imposed upon it,
and not freely agreed to, it is a language which offers the most striking
proof.
Let us now
examine how the linguistic sign eludes the control of our will. We shall then
be able to see the important consequences, which follow from this fact.
At any given
period, however far back in time we go, a language is always an inheritance
from the past. The initial assignment of names to things, establishing a
contract between concepts and sound patterns, is an act we can conceive in the
imagination, but no one has ever observed it taking place. The idea that it
might have happened is suggested to us by our keen awareness of the arbitrary
nature of the linguistic sign.
In fact, no
society has ever known its language to be anything other than something
inherited from previous generations, which it has no choice but to accept. That
is why the question of the origins of language does not have the importance
generally attributed to it. [Here he sustains his view that the study of history
is not so important…] It
is not even a relevant question as far as linguistics is concerned. The sole
object of study in linguistics is the normal, regular existence of a language
already established. Any given linguistic state is always the product of
historical factors, and these are the factors which explain why the linguistic
sign is invariable, that is to say why it is immune from arbitrary alteration.¹
{The passage of time, which ensures
the continuity of a language, also has another effect, which appears to work in
the opposite direction. It allows linguistic signs to be changed with some
rapidity. Hence variability and invariability are both, in a certain sense,
characteristic of the linguistic sign.²}
* *
*
The sign
consists of signifiant and signifié (signified
and signifier) the sound or the
picture, and the image in mind. Until then the idea was that the production of
the language comes from representation and that language itself is secondary
and has only to point to the objects. This was called the Nomenclature.
[Now,
listen well, because here we come to Derrida.]
For Saussure
the identity of the sign is in all its differences and only this produced the
immanent and constitutive principle of all language. So, the difference is the
principle that produces the signifiant and signifié. A sound is significant
through its difference from others and not through its contents. “Signifiant and signifié are values
determined differentially, not positively through their contents, but
negatively through their connection with other terms of the system. Their most
precise attribute is to be something which the others are not”. So we can
see the language as a system of signs in play of differences, creating the function
of meaning through articulation of its constituents [bringing them together, moving them
around],
differentiating the signs, creating new ones.
“The simple fact, that one is able to
understand the speech-formation, is proof that this series of parts is the
right expression of a thought”. This metaphysical expression of
understanding shows that the theory is capable of relating the spoken language
as an adequate representation of thought. For Saussure the language was spoken,
and writing was secondary.
To sum up:
Words are not vocal labels which have come to be attached to things and
qualities already given in advance by Nature, or to ideas grasped already
independently by the human mind. On the contrary, languages themselves,
collective products of social interaction supply the essential conceptual
framework for analysis of reality and simultaneously the verbal equipment for
their description of it. The concepts we use are creations of the language we
speak.
[Well,
there are some more parts that I wanted to read, but I am afraid that I have
overdone it. So, I will just finish the next part.]
{ (C.L.G. 139, 99-100)
Diachronic
linguistics studies the relations which hold not between the coexisting terms
of a linguistic state, but between successive terms substituted one for another
over a period of time.
Absolute
stability in a language is never found (cf. p. [110] ff.). All parts of the
language are subject to change, and any period of time will see evolution of
greater or smaller extent. It may vary in rapidity or intensity. But the
principle admits no exceptions. The linguistic river never stops flowing.
Whether its course is smooth or uneven is a consideration of secondary
importance.
It is true
that this uninterrupted evolution is often hidden from us by the attention paid
to the corresponding literary language. A literary language (cf. p. [267] ff.)
is superimposed upon the vernacular, which is the natural form a language
takes, and it is subject to different conditions of existence. Once a literary
language is established, it usually remains fairly stable, and tends to
perpetuate itself unaltered. Its dependence on writing gives it special
guarantees of conservation. Hence this is not the place to look if we wish to
see how variable natural languages are when free from literary regimentation.
The aim of
general synchronic linguistics is to establish the fundamental principles of
any idiosynchronic system, the facts, which constitute any linguistic state. Many
matters already discussed in the preceding section properly belong to
synchrony. The general properties of the linguistic sign may be considered an
integral part of synchronic studies, although we previously examined these
properties in order to demonstrate the necessity for distinguishing synchronic
from diachronic linguistics.
To synchrony
belongs everything called ‘general grammar’; for only through linguistic states
are the various relations involved in grammar established. In what follows we
shall simply be concerned with certain essential principles, without which it
would be impossible to tackle more specific problems connected with states, or
to give any detailed explanation of a linguistic state.
Generally
speaking, static linguistics is much more difficult than historical
linguistics. Facts of evolution are more concrete, and stir the imagination
more readily: the connections link sequences of terms, which are easily
grasped. It is simple, and often entertaining even, to follow through a series
of linguistic changes. But a linguistics concerned with values and coexisting
terms is much harder going.
Demarcation
in time is not the only problem encountered in defining a linguistic state.
Exactly the same question arises over demarcation in space. So the notion of a
linguistic state can only be an approximation. In static linguistics, as in
most sciences, no demonstration is possible without a conventional
simplification of the data.}
* * *
The value of
this approach, which did not pass without much opposition, sometimes extremely
virulent, is that it can be considered in any scientific endeavour in social
sciences which has to do with signs and structure. After 1930, we meet
structural anthropology (Claude Levi-Strauss), structural psychoanalysis
(Jacques Lacan) and structural analysis of literature (Jean Starobinski and
Roland Barthes).
[I
am done.]
{General
applause}
Louis: What
an oustandingly well organized presentation! Thank you very much, indeed.
Josef: Maybe,
there are questions?
Louis: Yes
– there should be. In the way of a preamble to my own questions, I was just
going to read something from Derrida, but no – I will read it afterwards. If
there are any questions – please.
Fouad: I have
a question about the analogy with music. I understand that he says that in
music – the one who composes comes up with a set of notes, and you hear it, but
it is not really a dialogue. But if you look at, let’s say, an improvisation in
music, when two people are playing with each other – you can tell that they
somehow are creating some kind of language through music. So, you can speak of
music as a form of language. He says that you can’t – right?
Josef: No.
He just says that you should not take the analogy too far. Somebody said that
when the Messiah comes, every metaphor will resemble what it wants to present.
But, until then there is always difference. So, this is right. On the other
hand, also in music there is a dialogue: between different instruments, between
the orchestra and the audience… Music also has its specific language.
Reviv: Also
between the conductor and the composer there is a dialogue.
Josef: That’s
right – absolutely. And, we understand this structure.
But, when you hear one person
speaking, and then another person speaking – if they will even read to you the
same text, you will understand it each time in a different way, because their
emphases and their approaches will be different. Excuse me. {The preceding
conversation was in Hebrew.}
So, I think that the problem is
clear. We have a language, which we use, but the way that we use it is up to
us.
Fouad: It
is about the style.
Josef: But,
we have no choice. Sometimes we have many words to say something, and sometimes
– one only. But, the choice is limited. If you say “I am brumi” – everybody
will understand something different, because you use a word that does not
exist.
Louis: Nice
point, but not exactly the best example of a nonsensical word, since where I
come from, to say that "I am Brumi" means that I come from
Birmingham.
[End
of the recording]
* * *