Literary Theory

Summaries

From Structuralism to Globalization Studies

Proseminar-Fall 2002 (Kaes)

 


 

Structuralism

Louis Althusser "Ideology"                                                                       

Christian Buss

 

Louis Althusser's essay "Ideology" starts with the premise that there is a fundamental flaw in the Marxist determination of ideology, namely its establishment as a "representation of the real conditions of existence in an imaginary form." In this critique of late 60's orthodox Marxism, Althusser goes on to win back the materiality of the ideological by asserting that Ideology is not a means of representing not the real condition of man's existence, but rather the imaginary relationships of individuals to their conditions.  This implies that these imaginary relationships are in truth constituted within primary practices and apparatuses, and not merely reinforced by them.  An example: A believer in god, he goes to mass, gets on his knees, prays, does pennance, and must do so if he is to "follow his beliefs and ideas". As such, the ideology must exist within the actions, practices, and rituals of daily life. With this reordering, the primacy of the idea is thrown to the wolves and replaced by the fundamental status of all individuals as subjects inserted into ideology by practices and rituals.  This insertion is accomplished by an individuals being constituted through an act of hailing of interpellating by the ideological apparatuses, whether they be the state, a friend, or even a dog barking for attention. A further example:  A friend sees you across the street, but you do not apprehend his presence. He shouts out “Hey there, you.” In Althusser’s world, nine times out of ten the correct individual turns looks to the friend and within that instant of turning has been hailed, located and locked in as a subject of an ideological relationship, in this case the primary ideology of “friend”.  However, this moment is not a moment of becoming locked, as for Althusser there is no outside of this particular ideology. You are never outside of this ideological relationship, you are “Always already” ideologically locked down by the sheer force of the ideological binary that the Ideology itself establishes. Whether you accept or reject the hailing of the friend, the friend has himself already addressed you as a friend, and in the act of hailing not only expects, but demands a particular response, a response within the binary of friend or perhaps in this case not friend.

 

          This always already-ness, however is grounded by reference to Freud’s conception of the happy birth and the expectations of parents, friends and family in the period leading up to the birth, which when said child pops out of the womb, are constituted by the particular clothing, training and toys that fully enframe and limit what kind of subject the little ankle-biter is.  Similarly adult subjects are themselves completely enclosed by the Ideological state apparatuses of the tax collector, the police, and whatever other functions are used by the state to placate the individual and let him exclaim “Amen-So be it.”  This amen, this so be it are unavoidable and must be adopted and accepted within the consciousness of the individual.  This “must” and its limiting of the individuals potential as subject to the monad, to the singular capital S Subject establishes a stagnancy, a lack of movement and a permanence that is the greatest limitation of Althusser’s argument.

 

          Let us envision an alternative to this singular interpellatory placement of the individual. Scene: Two individuals walk down the street, six feet apart. One, a banker has only his lunch on his mind and his briefcase by his side. The other, a thief, has just snatched a purse and is coolly, and briskly walking along the street away from the scene of the crime.  Again, an old friend spies the banker walking down the street, calls out “Hey, you” and waits for a response. The thief, already recently established as a particular subject “thief,” reacts to the “hey you” not as the potential subject intended, ie. friend, but rather as a man about to be booked as a third-striker and soon-to-be guest at the local pokey, and breaks into a heavy-breathing run, shocking passersby and caller-out alike. The hungry banker on the other hand, has a hot pastrami on the mind, and is searching for the best deli south of 52nd street on 5th avenue. With visions of hot meat and spicy mustard, the sine waves may reach his cochlea and forming a “hey you” in his ear drum, but sadly be subsumed by the growling of his stomach and his own pre-existent status as a subject out for a good meal.

 

Quickly we see that a nine-times-out-of-ten correct response to the friendly “hey you” breaks apart under the practical possibility of individuals not already constituted as capital S subject, but rather existing within any moment as one of a thousand possible subjects.  The question then is not one of how the individual is interpellated as a subject, but rather one of which subject one is to become. No longer are we all an “always-already” subject then, but rather an “always-becoming” subject, constantly being reconstituted and re-interpellated, by sometimes more and sometimes less successful attempts at hailing. Now we can speak of ideologies, battling for primacy at the location of the individual. Critical research is therefore not designed to expose how “recognition is indeed, in the last resort, the reproduction of the relations of production and of the relations deriving from them” (Althusser, Ideology, p.303) but rather how the moment of recognition is the primary instant when the establishment of hegemony is contested


 

Claude Lévi-Strauss, Structural Anthropology (1955)[1]                                  
Rob Schechtman
 
Claude Lévi-Strauss (1908-1996) was a self-trained French anthropologist who revolutionized his field by applying the concepts and techniques of structuralist linguistics to the study of human societies.  In doing so, he helped lay the foundations for later poststructuralist critiques (Structural Anthropology, along with Saussure’s Course in General Linguistics together formed the foundation of Derrida’s inaugural poststructuralist essay, “Sign, Structure and Play in the Discourse of the Human Sciences”).  The collection of essays presented in this book provide an overview of Lévi-Strauss’ theories and investigations between 1944 and 1957. 
 
The first chapter discusses the goals, methods, and history of anthropology (much as Saussure opens his work with a discussion of the field of linguistics).  Lévi-Strauss bases his approach on the theory that “the material out of which language is built is the same type as the material out of which the whole culture is built: logical relations, oppositions, correlations [...].” (68)   He sees parallels in the ways that societies, like languages, select and combine certain elements -- “at least some of which remain the same throughout the most varied cultures” (40) -- and he asks about the reasons for these choices and the laws of combination:
 
If, as we believe to be the case, the unconscious activity of the mind consists in imposing forms upon content, and if these forms are fundamentally the same for all minds -- ancient and modern, primitive and civilized (as the study of the symbolic function, expressed in language, so strikingly indicates) -- it is necessary and sufficient to grasp the unconscious structure underlying each institution and each custom, in order to obtain a principle of interpretation valid for other institutions and other customs [...].  (21)
 
He states his goal as that of abstracting the universal structures built from relationships of correlation and opposition that underlie many different manifestations of cultural phenomena.
 
In chapters two through five, Lévi-Strauss discusses kinship relations and marital rules.  Instead of the traditional focus on birth and descent in analyzing kinship, he applies a structuralist approach, again based on an analogy to language:
 
Like phonemes, kinship terms are elements of meaning; like phonemes, they acquire meaning only if they are integrated into systems.  ‘Kinship systems’, like ‘phonemic systems’, are built by the mind on the level of unconscious thought.  Finally , the recurrence of kinship patterns [...] leans us to believe that, in the case of kinship as well as linguistics, the observable phenomena result from the action of laws which are general but implicit. [...] Although the belong to another order of reality, kinship phenomena are of the same type as linguistic phenomena.  (34)
 
He proposes a controversial theory in which the universal incest taboo forms the center of a societal structure of possible marital alliances based on “reciprocity” and the “exchange” of women.[2]   Derrida later took exception with the suggestion that the incest taboo could provide any positive grounding or center to a system based purely on structural differences, and feminists attacked the suggestion that women serve an exchange function similar to that of money or other commodities.  Nevertheless, the application of such structuralist principles in this area was groundbreaking.
 
The structural study of myth forms the next part of his book.  Lévi-Strauss writes in a postscript to the chapters on kinship that myth, ritual and religion are other kinds of (non-linguistic) “languages” to be found in societies.  He notes a surprising similarity between myths collected from widely different regions.  He follows the structuralist approach once again of attempting to isolate the meaningful elements of myths and to find the ways they are combined, that is, to “perceive some basic logical processes which are at the root of mythical thought.”  (224)  The universality of such structures is again inherent: “If we add that these structures are not only the same for everyone and for all areas [...], but that they are few in number, we shall understand why the world of symbolism is infinitely varied in content, but always limited in its laws.” (203) 
 
In a chapter entitled “Social Structure”, Lévi-Strauss makes several statements which Derrida later uses in his poststructuralist critique.  Following the linguistic distinction between unconscious structures that govern behaviors and conscious (culturally constructed) models that serve to explain behaviors (and thus hide the subconscious structuring system), Lévi-Strauss describes methods of observation, experimentation, and analysis which may be applied to uncover the governing structures.  He writes that “the structure exhibits the characteristics of a system.  It is made up of several elements, none of which can undergo a change without affecting changes in all the other elements.” (279)  In addition, he says, “If these concepts have a meaning at all, they mean, first, that the notion of structure has a structure.” (278)  The very nature of structure, however, precludes any centering or transcendental ground in Derrida’s view.  Lévi-Strauss had extended structuralist theory greatly in applying it to society, but he hadn’t yet gone quite as far as Derrida in his analysis.
 
Lévi-Strauss’ work served to highlight the ultimately linguistic nature of human culture by linking the material realms (such as kinship) with the symbolic realms of language and myth.  There is a true dialectic relationship between the language and culture, enabling it and yet being shaped by it:
 
In the first place, the language can be said to be a result of culture [...].  But one can also say that language is a part of culture.  It is one of those many things which make up a culture. [...] In the third place, language can be said to be a  condition of culture [...].  Language, from this point of view, may appear as being a kind of foundation for the more complex structures which correspond to the different aspects of culture. (68f).
 
If literature is the highest form of linguistic production, it may serve to represent many aspects of  culture, especially the models a culture has of itself.  If, as Lévi-Strauss suggests, “Anthropology will become a general theory of relationships” (94) due to the structural (linguistic) nature of its subject, what will the study of literature then become?

 


Ferdinand de Saussure, Course in General Linguistics[3] (1916)                              

Rob Schechtman


In the lives of individuals and societies,

language is a factor of greater importance than any other.

Saussure (7)

 

Few books in the twentieth century have impacted intellectual thought as broadly as the Course in General Linguistics by the Swiss Professor of Linguistics, Ferdinand de Saussure (1857-1913).  First published posthumously in 1916 as the Cours de Linguistique Générale by two of Saussure’s students from assembled course notes, the book sparked the creation of structuralist movements in linguistics, anthropology, and literary criticism, and it laid the foundation for later poststructuralist critique. 

 

This review focuses on the first half of the book, which has the greatest relevance to literary theory.  The first section discusses the field of linguistics and its object of study.  The next two parts lay out Saussure’s principles of synchronic linguistics and discuss the nature of the linguistic sign.  The remaining three parts of the book discuss diachronic (“retrospective”) and geographical linguistics, and were themselves enormously influential in shifting the focus of linguistics from a primarily historical-comparative approach in the nineteenth century to an almost exclusively synchronic approach in the twentieth century.

 

Saussure’s primary claim is that language is a structured system of signs that stand in meaningful relations to one another. In contrast to previous approaches dating back to classical antiquity, Saussure’s linguistic sign does not unite a word with a referent in the world, but rather the concept of the referent with the sound used to refer to that concept within the system:  “A linguistic sign is not a link between a thing and a name, but between a concept and a sound pattern.” (66)  He compares the sign to a sheet of paper to show that the two sides cannot be separated: “Thought is one side of the sheet and sound the reverse side.  Just as it is impossible to take a pair of scissors and cut one side of paper without at the same time cutting the other, so it is impossible in the language to isolate the sound from thought, or thought up from sound." (111)  This is one of many dualities which Saussure posits in language.

 

His first principle regarding the nature of the linguistic sign is that the sign is arbitrary.  The association between the sound pattern, called the signifiant (‘signifier’ or ‘signal’), and the concept, called the signifié (‘signified’ or ‘signification’), can vary infinitely across languages.[4]  He later tempers this principle, allowing for the fact that some signs may be motivated “to a certain extent” (cf. 130f.).  Nevertheless, the arbitrary nature of the sign is the foundation of his analysis.[5]

 

The signs in a language are arranged in a system of structures: “[…] it is linguistic structure which gives language the unity it has.” (11)  The system in general he calls langage.  A specific system of signs, such as English, he refers to as a langue. (Although both terms are often translated as ‘language’ or ‘Sprache’, the distinction between the general capacity and the specific instance is crucial.)  The system of structures or rules is collective and social: “[…] the language is never complete in any single individual, but exists perfectly only in the collectivity.” (13)  He contrasts this with parole, speech produced using the language, which is individual  The langue/parole distinction is a second crucial duality in Saussure’s theory.

 

Meaning arises within the language system through relations of association and opposition: “Two signs, each comprising a signification and a signal, are not different from each other, but only distinct.  They are simply in opposition to each other.  The entire mechanism of language […] is based upon oppositions of this kind […].” (119)   The two types of relations are syntagmatic and paradigmatic.  The former relation operates through linear ordering and restriction (e.g., in the phrase ‘The department chair’, the syntagmatic association of ‘department’ restricts the possible interpretations of ‘chair’).  The latter relation expresses similarities of sound or meaning between signs.  Signs acquire their meanings only through these structural relations: “A language is a system in which all the elements fit together, and in which the value of any one element depends on the simultaneous coexistence of all the others. […] In a given language, all the words which express neighboring ideas help define one another’s meaning.” (113f.)  This, he goes on to say, applies not only to words but also to sounds and to more complex structures such as grammatical units.

 

Saussure uses the analogy of a chess game several times to explain his view of language:

 

A game of chess is like an artificial form of languages present in a natural form. [...] The value of the chess pieces depends on their position upon the chessboard just as in the language each term has its value through its contrast with all the other terms. [...] It is true that the values also depend ultimately upon one invariable set of conventions, the rules of the game, which exist before the beginning of the game and remain in force after each move. These rules, fixed once and for all, also exists in the linguistic a case: There the unchanging principles of Semiology. (87f.)


The arbitrary sign is paralleled by the arbitrary form of the chess pieces; it is irrelevant how exactly the pieces are shaped, or even what they are made of, as long as certain recurring forms are used in rule-bound ways within the game.  The primacy of synchronic analysis over the diachronic is shown in that the players of the game are unaware of, and indeed probably not interested in, how the game developed or how it may have been played in the past.  What matters in playing the game today is simply the set of meaningful relations governing the movements of the pieces.[6]

 

How does one perform a structuralist analysis?  First, by isolating the distinctive, meaningful units within a particular system, and then by determining the relationships of association and opposition which govern those units.  Structuralist theory was applied to literature most notably by the Prague School (cf. Jakobsen).  Structuralism is not without its limitations, however.  Its focus on binary oppositions reflects a very limited conceptualization scheme.  The analyses are typically purely formalist, concerned with the form and not the content of elements – in some ways similar to New Criticism.  Structuralist linguistics traditionally focused on the phonetics and syntax of languages, neglecting discourse and the pragmatic, communicative use of language.  The strict emphasis on synchronic study effectively stopped all diachronic scholarship on languages for nearly a century.  Nevertheless, structuralism led to enormous advances in language sciences.

 

Poststructuralism arose when Derrida took the structuralist notion of meaning to its extreme. The Course writes: “In the language itself [langue], there are only differences.  Even more important than that is the fact that, although in general a difference presupposes positive terms between which the difference holds, in a language there are only differences, and no positive terms.”  Here Derrida saw a necessary end to the age-old, yet futile, search for positive, transcendental grounds for meaning external to the language.  The poststructuralist critique is based on the pervasiveness of différance, of differing and deferral through chains of syntagmatic and paradigmatic relations, of endlessly partial significations and misreadings.

 

Poststructuralism has been called anti-humanist due to the power attributed to language as a system (Heidegger’s remark that “language speaks man” became a motto for poststructuralistists).  Saussure might have differed; responding to the animist tendencies of nineteenth century linguistics, he wrote: “[…] it became unacceptable to say ‘the language does this or that’, to speak of the ‘life of the language’, and so on, because a language is not an entity, and exists only in its users.”  (5, footnote 1)  Yet the subtly subversive nature of language is presaged in Saussure’s statement, “For the sign always to some extent eludes control by the will, whether of the individual or of society: that is its essential nature, even thought it may be by no means obvious at first sight.” (16)  The ramifications of Saussure’s structuralism are themselves not obvious at first sight and are still shaping intellectual thought today.

 



Poststructuralism
 
Roland Barthes, Elements of Semiology (1964)                                              
Robert Schechtman
 
The study and critique of the production of meaning in culture was of central interest to Roland Barthes (1915-1980), professor of French at the College de France in Paris.  Enormously influential in post-war criticism, Barthes' book, Mythologies (1957),  investigated the conditions under which a wide range of cultural artifacts gain meaning, and his controversial essay, Death of the Author (1977), suggested that texts are not fixed objects but rather are (re-)written in  every act of reading.  While the work reviewed here may be less well-known, it introduces the concepts and techniques of semiology – the study of systems of signification – that Barthes uses in many of his analyses.[7]
 
At the outset, Barthes notes the primacy of language as a signifying system.  Other complex semiological systems exist and may well be analyzed using the methods of structuralist linguistics, but they always include language (or concepts built from language):
 
[...] the moment we go onto systems with the sociological significance is more than superficial, we are once more confronted with language. It is true that objects, images and patterns of behavior can signify, and to so on a large scale, but never autonomously; every single logical system has its linguistic add mixture. [...] there is no meaning which is not the designated, and the world of signifieds is none other than that of language. Thus, the working at the outset on non-linguistic substances, Semiology is required, sooner or later, to find language [...]  (10)
 
Saussure’s original positing of linguistics as a subset of general semiology may need to be reversed, he suggests; semiology is likely to be a subset of linguistics.
 
Barthes discusses the structural nature of the signifying system (langue, “a collective contract”) and the unique utterance (parole, “an individual act of selection and actualization”).  He notes the genuinely dialectical relationship between the two; the latter are both formed from and formative of the whole.  A  “quasi-tautological” relationship also exists between the signifier and the signified, which can only be defined mutually as part of the signifying process,[8]   The level of signifiers Barthes terms the “plane of expression”, and the level of signified is the “plane of content”.  Going beyond Saussure, Barthes notes that union of signifier and signified does not comprise the entire signifying process; signs derive value from their surroundings and use.
 
Signs obtain meaning through oppositions of similarity and difference,[9]  according to Saussure.  The best known of such oppositional relations, states Barthes, is the “privative”, “characterized by the presence of a significant element, a mark, which is missing in the signifier of the other.  This is therefore the general opposition marked/unmarked […].”(76)  The unmarked item, termed the zero degree of the opposition, is problematical when compared to the marked:  “The zero degree is ... not a total absence …, it is a significant absence.  We have here a pure differential state; the zero degree testifies to the power held by any system of signs, of creating meaning ‘out of nothing’…” (77).[10]    Texts and other planes of signification thus become by their very nature sites of production as well as transmission of meaning.
 
As examples of complex cultural signifying systems, Barthes mentions garments, food, furniture and architecture (that film and television are mentioned only in passing in a relatively recent survey of semiology constitutes an astonishing gap).  The challenge in such complex systems is above all to decide what belongs to the structure  (langue) and what constitutes individual signifying instances (parole).  It is not always clear when changes in the signifier constitute a change in the signified, that is, what changes are significant.
 
The signifiers in the plane of expression of other complex systems are, unlike the basic sounds of language, almost always objects of use in themselves.  These signifiers, whose origin is functional, he calls “sign-functions”.  That the sign-functions become pervaded with meaning he deems inevitable: “as soon as there is a society, every usage is converted into a sign of itself ... This universal semantization of the usages is crucial: it expresses the fact that there is no reality except when it is intelligible...” (41f.)
 
Barthes often highlights the historical and political dimensions of cultural products; here he briefly notes as a semiological problem the origin of such signs, which unlike the signs of language that are elaborated by the “speaking mass”, are often founded artificially by the decision of a group.  These systems he calls “fabricated languages”, “logo-techniques”.  (cf. 31).
 
Interpreting the signifieds in the plane of content of such complex semiological systems requires cultural knowledge, so that various interpretations will inevitably exist, often simultaneously within one reader:
 
[...] we may consider that to each system of signifiers ... there corresponds, on the plane of the signifieds, a corpus of practices and techniques; these collections of signifieds imply on the part of system consumers (of ‘readers’, that is to say), different degrees of knowledge (according to differences in their ‘culture’), which explains how the same ‘lexie’ (or large unit of reading) can be deciphered differently according to the individuals concerned, without ceasing to belong to a given ‘language’. Several lexicons – and consequently several bodies of signifieds – can coexist within the same individual […] (46f.)
 
Barthes points out that the signifying langue as social product is "like a game with its own rules" that can only be played after a period of learning.  This applies equally to language and to other semiological systems.
 
The fourth section of the book, although brief, is devoted to semiology's ultimate challenge, which is to study embedded signifying systems, that is, structured systems that are themselves signifiers or signifieds in other systems.  When a first system becomes the plane of expression or signifier within the second system, the first system becomes, for Barthes, the plane of denotation.  The second system (“wider than the first”) becomes the plane of connotation.  This applies directly to literary analysis: "the common cases of connotation will of course consist of complex systems of which language forms the first system (that is, for instance, the case with literature)."  (90)  Barthes sites the "tone" of a literary text as an example of the way large sections of the denoted discourse can themselves constitute a single signified unit of the connoted system. 
 
Barthes' book is concise and clear, but admittedly cursory; it is intended as a survey of possibilities rather than as a detailed study in its own right.  The book assumes a minimal level of familiarity with structuralist theory -- Saussure is taken for granted, and other prominent structuralists from the Copenhagen and Prague schools (Hjelmslev, Jakobsen) are mentioned without introduction.  One sees repeatedly the primacy of language as a signifying system for Barthes and the accompanying neglect of the visual culture.  Nevertheless, the book serves as an good introduction to semiology within the literary tradition.  In the decades since its writing, numerous cultural theories about the production and interpretation of meaning systems have arisen, yet rarely are the systems themselves systematically (structurally) analyzed.  This book provides an opening in that direction.

 


Winfried Kudszus „Literature und Schizophrenie                               

Azadeh Yamini-Hamedani

         

 

Before receiving his Ph.D. from Berkeley in 1968, Winfried Kudszus studied literature, philosophy, and psychology at the Universities of Zurich, Freiburg, and Munich. In 1968 he joined the Berkeley faculty, and became a Guggenheim Fellow in 1984. His writings explore questions and interrelationships of literature, psychology, philosophy, semiotics, culture, and psychoanalysis.

Kudszus’s Literature und Schizophrenie (1977) is a compilation of several essays, to which he offers an introduction and an essay. The compilation includes essays by Peter Gorsen, Gotthart Wunberg, Gerhard Irle, Leo Navratil, and a talk by Walter Vogt. In his introduction, Kudszus offers a reading of complex linguistic structures, evident in the schizophrenic’s verbal communication and in modern literature’s language. Literary works by Hoelderlin, Celan, Nietzsche, Nerval, and Artaud contain linguistic structures, set against the world of norm.

          The study of literature and the difficulty of modern linguistic structures create for the reader and the literary theorist a puzzle to be solved; along with the schizophrenic they all face a linguistic Grenzgebiet.  Trying to solve this puzzle, literary theory itself falls into a complex linguistics, deemed incomprehensible. Literary studies and Schizophrenieforschung share a common quest and similar problematic area, mainly the understanding of “dunkler Sprachstrukturen” (2), and the development of methodological insights to establish a unity where none comes to mind.

          Modern literature leads to a Grenzgebiet where reality’s known images transform into the abnormal and unknown. The breaking of linguistic structures extends itself to the breaking of social norms.  Mediums of speech contain normative thought, and schizoid linguistic structures expose the naiveté of traditional categories and laws.

          Kudszus addresses the socialization of language, and the development of literature and schizophrenia as productive opposition. Kudszsus refers to R.D. Laing’s notion of the double-bind. According to this theory the individual is set in a system of opposites, which allows the social structure to better control and manipulate him. The double-bind contains contradictory signals, which are brought to light in schizophrenia’s language and modern literature. The creative and the insane converge in the moment of their breaking away from social/cultural norms and pre-determinations.

In his talk “Die Schizophrenie der Kunst” Walter Vogt addresses the social suppression of creativity, because creativity rises out of questioning. The poet who turns his back to the play of powers thus posses a greater danger than a politically-engaged literature, and the harmless schizophrenic, who closes the door to society, makes a more profound political statement, than the dictator. In the modern context, Wahnsinn and poetry take an oppositional stance to a society of production and consumption. According to Vogt language, poetry, and Wahn all occupy the empty space between signifier and signified. Language represents a system of signs and their obligatory (when you say sky, you think blue). The child however experiences the world differently than what he is taught. In the contradiction of experience and the linguistic world order lies the birth of the poet or the schizophrenic.

          Modern literature agrees with anti-psychiatric perspectives, and Kudzsus refers to the anti-oedipal schizoid-analysis of Deleuze and Guattari (the fathers of anti-psychiatry): “Im literarischen gestalteten Wahn des familiaeren und- eng damit verbunden- des gesellschaftlichen Normensystems kommt die Erkenntnis des “Schizo” zum Durchbuch, dass der Oedipus-Komplex Vorurteile verschleiert, die auf die systematische Destruktion des Subjekts zum Zweck seiner Maniepulierbarkeit in einer patriachalisch struktuierten Gesellschaftsordnung abzielen” (5). The schizoid embodies the anti-oedipal, and stands in opposition to the subject’s systematic destruction into society’s patriarchal structure.

Schizophrenia thus functions as a breakthrough experience, questioning civilization’s structures and bringing to light a realm, which would otherwise remain in darkness. The schizoid does not fall victim to schizophrenia but rather uses it as an exit for new creative grounds. Deleuze and Guattari refer to the work of Kafka as an example of the schizoid energies within literature, asserting that it displays signs of the double-bind and the oedipal, and grotesque family structures and patriarchal repression mechanisms.

Psychopathology and the creative process build upon the same principles of meaning, mainly “Physiogonomisierung, Formalisierung, und Symbolbildung” (9); they contain the same components of literary development. Although the aesthetics of being other may not serve as an expansion of “the beautiful,” it nevertheless acts as a source for literary and artistic self-understanding. Schizophrenic disturbances contain creative potentiality, and the creativity of the ill posses a healthy norm, unbreakable in the face of traditional aesthetics.

          Kudzsus refers to the work of Gerhard Irle, who addresses the emancipating function of schizoid episodes. Irle argues toward the positive aspects of depersonalization: in the falling apart of the self lies the chance for self-finding, a self beyond the repressive elements of culture and society. Our age finds the structure of its thoughts, its visions, and fears in a great schizophrenia.

          Kudszus in agreement with Gorsen, who points to the self-alienating element in modern literature and art, proposes the negation of traditional categorical systems for new possibilities of communication and understanding: “So treffen sich im Spannungsfeld von Literatur, Kunst und Psychopathologie eine Aesthetic und eine Psychiatrie, die ihre jeweiligen Kategoriensysteme negieren und im Versagen ‘normaler’ Kommunikation neue unverfaelschte Verstaendnismoeglichkeiten zu erschliessen suchen” (11). Kudzsus brings his introduction to a close asserting: “Es gibt sich hier…eine Wechselbeziehung von systemkritischer Theorie Interpretationspraxis, die im Grenzgebiet von Literature und Schizophrenie Kommunikationsformen zu verstehen erlaubt, deren Sinn in ihrer ‘Abnormalitaet’ liegt” (11).

Kudszsus takes as his model literary works by Hoelderlin, Celan, Nietzsche, Hofmannsthal, Nerval, Kafka, and Artaud. Kudszus’s project offers an interesting reading of the linguistically abnormal, and reflects the poststructuralist project of critiquing orthodox habits of mind, culture, and language. The work takes an oppositional stance against traditional intellectual categories, and concentrates on the decentered subject. In this respect, Kudsuzs’s work can thus be read in dialogue with Barthes, Foucault, Lacan, Derrida, Deleuze and Guattari, de Man, Greenblat, and Kristeva.

Kudszus’s work could potentially be of interest to the feminist project, in studying psychopathology and linguistic structures in the feminine. For a future project the reception of Hoelderlin’s works could be of interest. Why do Hoelderlin’s writings appeal to two completely different projects: Dilthey’s Das Erlebnis und die Dichtung and Kudszus’s Literatur und Schizophrenie? While Dilthey receives the works of Hoelderlin as a reflection of das Geistesgeschichtliche, Kudszus interprets Hoelderlin’s use of abnormal linguistic structures as a stance against the social fabric. For Dilthey Hoelderlin stands as a central figure of German national identity, and for Kudszus his writings reflect the margins of social norm.      


 

 

Michel Foucault, Discipline and Punish:  The Birth of the Prison (1975)[11]              

Richard Ascarate

                                                                                                         

Biographical Outline

Born in Poitiers, France, Michel Foucault (1926-1984) studied philosophy and psychology at the École Normale Supérieure (Paris), was head of the philosophy departments at the Universities of Clermont-Ferrand and Vincennes, and elected in 1970 to the Collège de France.  Other works include Mental Illness and Psychology (1954/trans. 1976), Madness and Civilization (1961/65), The Birth of the Clinic (1963/1973), The History of Sexuality [Vol. I:  An Introduction (1976/78); Vol. II:  The Use of Pleasure (1984/85); Vol. III:  The Care of the Self (1984/86)].

 

Statement of Project

Foucault opens with a description of the grisly quartering of attempted regicide Damiens in 1757.  Penalties of such severe form no longer prevailing, he argues that the body as locus poenae has been replaced by the soul (16), observing that the modern criminal justice system no longer partakes of the directness represented by Damiens’s execution.  The crime, committed against the tangible person of the king (which included his property:  “L’état, c’ést moi!’”), was then  punished by the king’s tangible representatives upon the equally tangible body of the accused.  Today, however, the criminal justice system “functions and justifies itself only by […] perpetual reference to something other than itself, by […] unceasing reinscription in non-juridical systems” (22).  The “something other than itself” includes psychiatric and psychological experts, educationalists, parole officers, pathologists and other scientific investigators (21).  The king has been replaced by the nebulous body of society.  Crime is redefined so as to exert control over that society.

The author’s purpose, then, is to offer a “correlative history of the modern soul and of a new power to judge” (23), to argue that punishment of the offense has been superseded by supervision, or discipline, of the individual (18).  Such supervision (in essence, a means of control, of enforcing normativity) extends beyond the penal system, however, and can be seen in “factories, schools, barracks, hospitals, which all resemble prisons” (228).  To carry out his analysis, Foucault makes the following assumptions:  1) Punishment is a “complex social function,” not merely a mechanism of repression; 2) Punishment is a political tactic, a means of exercising power; 3) The “technology of power [is] the very principle both of the humanization of the penal system and of the knowledge of man”; and 4) Replacement of the body by the soul in penal justice (and the insertion of ‘scientific’ knowledge into legal practice) represents  a “transformation of the way in which the body itself is invested by power relations” (23-4).  Thus, Foucault’s study reaches beyond the economics of crime and punishment and into the “mode of subjection” by which man becomes an “object of knowledge for a discourse with a ‘scientific’ status” (24). 

Foucault notes that the development of capitalist society itself brought about a restructuring of the “economy of illegalities” (87).  Thus, the “right to punish […] shifted from the vengeance of the sovereign to the defence of society” (90).  The need arose not only to make the punishment fit the crime (differentiation), but also to re-form the criminal:  “A body is docile that may be subjected, used, transformed and improved” (136).[12]  Foucault examines the rise of disciplinary methods in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, seeing in them “general formulas of domination” (137).  Among these were new and highly-detailed ordinances delineating exact positions of the soldier’s body parts when standing at attention or presenting arms, strict time-tables (articulated to the minute) to govern the activities of elementary school children, the examination (which both reasserts the power of the instructor and transforms the individual student into a “case” for evaluation), and Bentham’s Panopticon.  Still widely used in prisons and hospitals (and in the department store security camera), the scheme allows a minimum investment of power while providing a maximum perception of observation.  In each of the formulae domini listed above, those being “dominated” became ever more susceptible to observation and evaluation.  The arrangement of school children in neat rows, for example, not only reinforces the teacher/student power relation but also allows the teacher to instantly examine the status of all students and to make comparisons among them.  The Panopticon enables control to be exerted even without the presence of an authority figure, for one can never be sure when one is being observed.  Here, too, one sees the transference of the visible (through ceremonies, rituals, costumes) power of the king to an anonymous, unlocatable authority:  “There is a machine that assures dissymmetry, disequilibrium, difference.  Consequently, it does not matter who exercises power” (202).

Foucault goes on to claim that delinquency, spawned by the penal system’s failure, is used by that very system to infiltrate society, to provide information about further illicit activities, to supervise the “whole social field” (281).  He concludes that the carceral system has been transferred to institutions not ordinarily associated with punishment (i.e., education and medicine):  “The judges of normality are present everywhere” (304).  

 

Commentary/Associations   

The author is versed in the Saussurean vocabulary of “sign,” “signifier,” and “signifying system” (128), repeatedly invoking the terms to describe various power relations and events.  In seeing the infiltration of society by the systems and agents of the normative power, he is also in dialog with himself.[13]  He suggests a restructuring of illegalities with the rise of the capitalist system, and the reader would benefit from at least a passing familiarity with Marx. 

Absent from Foucault’s study is an examination of the role of religion in normalizing social behavior.  The author early on dismisses the Christian soul (“illusion of theologians” [30]) as something born for punishment, seeing the secular one instead as the “effect and instrument of a political anatomy” (30), something born out of punishment.  He thus forgoes the opportunity to examine an invisible, omnipresent (and conceptually more ancient than any of the sources he cites) God as the ultimate Panopticon.  He thereby also elides the Judaeo-Christian tradition of inscribing power relations both on the body (the mark of Cain, circumcision, Samson’s hair, the Crucifixion) and on the soul (Matt. 6:6, Rom. 1:9).    

 


German Theory

 
Theodor W. Adorno, “Zur Krisis der Literaturkritik”[14]  
Robert Schechtman
 
Theodor W. Adorno (1903-1969), a gifted musician and an astute critic, co-directed the Institute for Social Research - known as the Frankfurt School - with Max Horkheimer, where he focused on aesthetic issues of culture from a Marxist perspective.  Adorno’s brief essay is a sharp critique of what he terms the “Verfall” of literary criticism in post-war Germany.  Viewing the situation from the distancing perspective of many years’ emigration, Adorno admits that he may be self-deceived about the actual intellectual situation before Hitler’s rise to power.  Nevertheless, he bemoans a lack of the “Geist kritischer Freiheit und Autonomie in Deutschland…” (661); earlier critics may have had an inflated sense of themselves, but at least he perceived them as having preserved a sense of independence in intellectual life.
 
The type of criticism that he claims was the product of an earlier, liberal era was based on three essential ingredients: the right to free expression of one’s opinion, trust in the independent critic, and an authority of the press based on the power of their circulation.  However, while the end of the Nazi regime may have removed political barriers to such free expression, mere political changes do not suffice, according to Adorno, to re-establish the critical spirit.  What is lacking is, on the one had, the type of reading public who supported the liberal journals, and on the other had, individuals in an autonomous position to judge literary production.
 
Some of the problem may lay in the nature of German society itself, states Adorno: “Ironie, geistige Beweglichkeit, Skepsis gegen das, was nun einmal da ist, hat nie in Deutschland hoch im Kurs gestanden.”  (662)  Yet his criticism of the passive acceptance of the status quo sounds too simply like many post-war condemnations of the supposed German “acceptance of authority”[15] ; the criticism might apply equally well to most, if not all, western cultures in most of the post-war era (the late 1960s being a notable exception). 
 
Adorno notes that negative critique often continues to take the destructive, authoritarian form that was termed “abschießen” in the Third Reich.  The element of “productive negativity”, of what one might term constructive criticism, requires self-confidence, and is restricted in contemporary criticism by the lack of several essential ingredients: “Freiheit, Distanz und vor allem wirklicher Kenntnis der sachlichen Probleme, in deren Bewältigung künstlerische Arbeit wesentlich besteht.” (662f.)  Without the true knowledge of the creative challenges of free artistic production, criticism becomes a kind of elevated information service employing simple clichés rather than searching itself for appropriate, creative modes of experience and of expression. 
 
The crisis is, he says, indicative of the state of the culture as a whole.  He bemoans a decline of education, the neglect of the language, a feeling of helplessness on the part of the individual.  Above all, there is a lack of authenticity in production, “die Ahnung von der Gleichgültigkeit dessen, was heute unter dem Namen Kultur weiter betrieben wird…” (663).  This he terms the “neutralization of culture”, and he likens the situation to a house, by chance spared from destruction by the bombings, whose integrity no one trusts any longer.  In such a culture, he says, any critic who does not call out the failings of the culture by name necessarily becomes an accomplice to its destruction and adds to the denigration of its objects.
 
In the spirit of “productive negativity”, Adorno does go on to describe what he considers to be a worthy form of critique:
 
Große Kritik ist denkbar nur als integrales Moment geistiger Strömungen, denen sie sei’s hilft, sei’s widerspricht, und die selber ihre Kraft aus gesellschaftlichen Tendenzen ziehen. [...] Gewalt hat sie nur, wofern ihr jeder gelungene oder mißratene Satz etwas mit dem Schicksal der Menschheit zu tun hat.  (663f.)
 
The standards are high; great criticism should affect the very fate of mankind.  This is the challenge Adorno sets himself and others in his essay.  With a half century now separating us from this critique, one might ask to what extent the situation in literary and cultural criticism has changed, and where and how critics have risen to the challenge set by Adorno.

Walter Benjamin, “The Origin of the German Tragic Drama”

Julie Koser

 

First conceived in 1916 and composed between 1924 and 1925 (Steiner 7), Benjamin’s (1892-1940) Der Ursprung des deutschen Trauerspiel was turned down as Habilitationsschrift for the University of Frankfurt, but did appear in book form in