Ballard’s novella Myths of the Near Future [formulates] a deranged ‘metametaphorics’ for which pornography and a kind of autistic bricolage function as the privileged figures of knowledge. Myths relates the epidemiology of a mysterious schizoid condition that appears to emenate from the abandoned Kennedy Space Centre in Florida. When its protaganist, the Orphic architect Roger Sheppard, constructs a notional ‘time machine’ from pornographic videos of his dead ex-wife and reproductions of Ernst and Delvaux, he cites one of the empty swimming pools of Cocoa beach as its ‘power source’: ‘It is’, he remarks to an indulgent clinical psychologist, ‘a metaphor to bring my wife back to life’ (Ballard 1985: 32). In calling this assemblage a ‘metaphor’, the metaphor ‘a machine’, illness ‘an extreme metaphor with which to construct a space vehicle’ (Ballard 1985: 14) Ballard pragmatically circumvents semantic criteria of metaphorical aptness. Sheppard’s pornography is an ‘effective’ vehicle of resurrection because, like space itself, it is ‘a model for an advanced condition of time…’ (Ballard 1985: 14). This is not because the genre’s formal qualities are (or held to be) analogous to a spatialised time, but because the text equates pornography with modern dislocations of the continuum: ‘Space exploration is a branch of applied geometry, with many affinities to pornography’ (Ballard 1985: 30). Sheppard’s time machine is a ‘good’ metaphor because it is a work of pornography, and pornography (in Myths) is a paradigm of hermetic technology by dint of its metaphoricity.
Ballard, J.G (1985), Myths of the Near Future, London: Triad/Panther.
Wilfred Sellars (1974) argues that we should not construe claims about meanings as expressing a semantic relation between a verbal entity (a word, sentence, etc.) and a language-independent entity (abstract or concrete) but as claims about the functional roles of linguistic tokens. Thus we should construe
“chat” (in French) means cat
*chat*’s (in French) are •cat•’s
“La neige est blanche” (in French) means Snow is white
*La neige est blanche*’s (in French) are •Snow is white•’s
Where the expression “*chat*’s” is a metalinguistic distributive term that refers to all non-semantically individuated tokens with a certain shape or sound and the dot quotation expression “•cat•’s” uses the English token “cat” to exemplify its functional role in English. This expression says, in effect, that characters and letters of a certain shape in French have the same functional role as “cat” in English.
This device allows Sellars to construct a conception of meaning which is not committed to extra-linguistic abstract entities such as propositions. The meaning of s is not constituted by its relation to some abstract entity p but by its functional role in a given linguistic community (its role within its economy of language-entry, transition and exit rules). This is obviously an attractive notional device for nominalists who wish to rein in metaphysical commitments to non-linguistic abstracta. It reframes metaphysical issues about the existence of propositions or attributes as questions about the status of functional roles. Of course, functional roles are not metaphysically innocent or unproblematic. We can ask of the Sellarsian whether normative facts supervene on non-normative ones and what the consequences of this relationship are. If we can do no better than supervenience to describe their relationship, this will be a problematic outcome for many naturalists. A second question – not unrelated to the first – is that of how functional-inferential roles are individuated. Presumably, they cannot be individuated semantically if Sellars’ account of meaning is to be non-question-begging.
In this post I want to consider a puzzle that is related to the second problem. I have discussed an analogous issue with regard to Davidson’s interpretation-based semantics in “Radical Quotation and Real Repetition” (Roden 2004). I’m not confident about the metaphysical solution I proposed in that paper, but if something like it can begin to address the issue for Sellars account of functional classification this might help us think through the ontological underpinnings of interpretation.
The problem anatomized in “Radical Quotation” arose with regard to Davidsonian truth theories.
As Olaf Gjelsvik (1994) points out, the formal model used by Davidson presupposes that we can pick out bits of the language we want to interpret syntactically. Davidson’s account requires that radical interpreters have a stock of primitive terms referring to constituent expressions of the object language and that these can be assembled into ‘structural descriptions’ reflecting the syntactic composition of its sentences (Davidson 1984, p. 133). For example, an axiom in a truth theory for a language might say of a certain concatenation of three symbols that it is satisfied by a sequence of objects if the first member of the sequence is larger than the second member (i.e. giving it the extension of the predicate “….larger than….”.)
Why might this be a problem for Davidson? Well, it is a problem if we recall that Davidson’s use of model theory is designed to explicate an informal semantic notion: meaning. He proposes to do this by way of a notion he takes to be better understood: truth. Sellars’ approach (as I understand it) is procedural rather than model-theoretic. But it one might expect that it needs to meet analogous constraints (even if not the same ones).
So here’s where Gjelsvik thinks that Davidson’s account hits a bump.
If languages are individuated by the syntactic types composing their expressions – roughly, by the physical shape and structure of grammatical strings – the semantic properties of their sentences must be non-essential. It is thus possible for a sentence to have different semantic properties in different speech communities. But then a truth theory for one community can be made false if another uses tokens of these types differently. For example, on Twin Earth a language, Twinglish, might be spoken in which English-shaped predicates have contrary ‘meanings’.
The existence of Twinglish would be enough to falsify the T sentence:
‘Snow is white’ is True(E) if and only if Snow is white
Since it is the syntactic string referred to by ‘Snow in white’ which relativises a truth predicate, not the abbreviations “E” and “Tw”, there is nothing to distinguish it from a statement about a sentence of Twinglish:
‘Snow if white’ is True(Tw) if and only if Snow is white
If ‘. . . is white’ in Twinglish were a contrary of its English counterpart (meaning is green, say) the ‘only if’ would make it false.
According to Gjelsvik, the only alternative is to specify English sentences semantically. A formal theory of the Tarksian kind achieves this by defining a predicate that holds of all and only the true sentences of a language. But its theorems flow by stipulation and logical necessity. Davidsonian theories are supposed to express contingent, empirical claims about semantically uncharacterised sentences. Thus, Gjelsvik argues, a competent radical interpreter must assume that the world’s distribution of semantic properties is not of the Twinglish/English sort (Gjelsvik 1994, p. 34). The problem, here, is that this assumption utilizes pretheoretic concepts of subsentential meaning (using semantic concepts like “satisfaction” in the formalism of semantic theories is OK, according to Davidson, because they are part of the logical machinery of the theories. They are not explicatory as such)
It seems that a similar problem afflicts the metalinguistic statements that occur in Sellarsian functional role ascriptions.
*chat*’s (in French) are •cat•’s
Would be false if Twin French speakers used *chat*’s differently to •cat•’s . Indeed it would be false if anyone, anywhere used *chat*’s in a way that ended up giving it a contrary functional role . Thus there must be other assumptions built into the ascription of metalinguistic types that are not evident in this formalism.
Well, it might seem that the Sellarsian is in a more favorable position than the Davidsonian here. For Gjelsvik, Davidson cannot constrain the scope of truth based theories without introducing meaning by the back door. But the Sellarsian only has to to claim that the distribution of functional roles is not of the silly type that would have *chat*’s acquiring contrary functional roles all over the place.
The problem with this fix is that there is absolutely nothing silly about contrary functional roles. As Robert Brandom’s inferentialist account implies, a term can acquire different functional roles where people have contrary beliefs. We would expect dancing inferential roles to be par for the course within any speech community. In any event, Sellars cannot preclude rampant homonymy without making their functional roles essential to interpretants in metalinguistic sortal sentences. But this would also render them trivial.
In consequence many metalinguistic sortal claims are falsified by inferential nuances within and between language communities, while it would be perfectly conceivable that there are no true ML sortals at all (allowing for sufficient homonymic variability across speech communities).
It is not clear to me where this would leave Sellars’ metaphysics of meaning. For example, can we build in a tacit reference to a given speech community which can be expected to exhibit the uniformities described by metalinguistic sortal claims? Maybe, but as well as being questionable for the Davidsonian/Brandomian reasons mentioned above, it also seems to require an explicit notion of reference. If we cannot plausibly restrict the scope of ML sortals in such a way, however, it would seem to follow that most or many ML sortal claims are false (thus there are no ML functional types, or very few) Thus the claim that the meaning of a term is its functional role would have to be judged false as well.
My solution to the problem that Davidson faces is to treat metalinguistic statements in a constructionist spirit. Syntactical types – accordingly – are not contingent owners of functional roles. They are individuated by functional role. So English “white” and Twinglish “white” are distinct characters and not the same character used in different ways. The problem, then, is to account for the empirical, contingent character of claims like
*chat*’s are •cat•’s
For on this account *chat* is not part of a “language” (like French) in a conventional sense but of a local idiom constructed purely for purposes of interpretation. For reasons similar to those discussed by Davidson in “A Nice Derangement of Epitaphs” we are no longer supposing that the notion of a language is the basic one here. The issue, then, is what is the function of an interpretant such as *chat* in this sortal statement?
My solution circa 2004 was to say that its function is to repeat the utterances or parts of utterances used by native speakers of languages under interpretation (we return to the primal scene of radical interpretation, as it were). *La neige est blanche* is designed to quote expressions in one idiom in another idiom (that of the interpreting discourse). So
*La neige est blanche*’s (in French) are •Snow is white•’s
refers to a set of historically instantiated utterance events by repeating them. Thus there must be a historical-causal relation of some kind between the interpreter and users of the interpreted idiom which can explain its purchase on these (rather, say, than on users of an orthographically identical language on Twin Earth).
The ontological basis of this quotation is not exemplification of a common semantic type. It is an ontologically primitive relation of repetition or “iteration” (to use Derrideanese) which operates transversely between languages and language communities (non-language-relative repetition). Some events, it must be assumed, just repeat other events without having to fall under a common description. The worry, now, is that the interpreted terms in ML sortings are being used as instances of the items they repeat rather being merely structural descriptions or examples of sign-designs. They are being used, so to speak, to refer to themselves. But if this is right, then the very act of interpreting them constitutes a variation in functional role. It is also a function that cannot obviously be expressed in inferential terms.
Finally, if the interpretants are essentially repeatabilia, then it is part of their job description (so to speak) that that can always accrue functional roles that differ from the ones they have had (otherwise interpretation would have no text). But then it cannot be inappropriate to use them in these “deviant” ways. Thus there no longer seems to be room for the normative facts which (supposedly) undergird the functionalist account.
Davidson, Donald (1984). Inquiries into Truth and Interpretation (Oxford: Clarendon Press).
____1986. ‘A Nice Derangement of Epitaphs’, in Ernest LePore (ed.) Truth and
Interpretation: Perspectives on the Philosophy of Donald Davidson (Oxford: Blackwell).
Derrida, Jaqcues. 1988. Limited Inc. Samuel Weber and Jeffrey Mehlman (trans.) (Evanston Ill.: Northwestern University Press).
Gjelsvik, Olav. 1994. ‘Davidson’s Use of Truth in Accounting for Meaning’, in Language, Mind and Epistemology: on Donald Davidson’s Philosophy, Gerhard Preyer, Frank Siebelt and Alexander Ul?g (eds.) (Dordrecht: Kluwer), pp. 21–43.
Lewis, Kevin. 2013. ”Carnap, Quine and Sellars on Abstract Entities”, https://www.academia.edu/2364977/Carnap_Quine_and_Sellars_on_Abstract_Entities (Accessed 12-7-14)
Sellars, W. (1974). Meaning as Functional Classification (A Perspective on the Relation of Syntax to Semantics). Synthese, (3/4). 417.
Catherine Malabou has an intriguing piece on the vexed question of the relationship between the “humanities” and science in the journal Transeuropeennes here.
It is dominated by a clear and subtle reading of Kant, Foucault and Derrida’s discussion of the meaning of Enlightenment and modernity. Malabou argues that the latter thinkers attempt to escape Kantian assumptions about human invariance by identifying the humanities with “plasticity itself”. The Humanities need not style themselves in terms of some invariant essence of humanity. They can be understood as a site of transformation and “deconstruction” as such. Thus for Derrida in “University Without Condition”, the task of the humanities is:
the deconstruction of « what is proper to man » or to humanism. The transgression of the transcendental implies that the very notion of limit or frontier will proceed from a contingent, that is, historical, mutable, and changing deconstruction of the frontier of the « proper ».
Where, as for Foucault, the deconstruction of the human involves exhibiting its historical conditions of possibility and experimenting with these by, for example, thinking about “our ways of being, thinking, the relation to authority, relations between the sexes, the way in which we perceive insanity or illness “.
This analysis might suggest that the Humanities have little to fear from technological and scientific transformations of humans bodies or minds; they are just the setting in which the implications of these alterations are hammered out.
This line of thought reminds me of a revealingly bad argument produced by Andy Clark in his Natural Born Cyborgs:
The promise, or perhaps threatened, transition to a world of wired humans and semi-intelligent gadgets is just one more move in an ancient game . . . We are already masters at incorporating nonbiological stuff and structure deep into our physical and cognitive routines. To appreciate this is to cease to believe in any post-human future and to resist the temptation to define ourselves in brutal opposition to the very worlds in which so many of us now live, love and work (Clark 2003, 142).
This is obviously broken-backed: that earlier bootstrapping didn’t produce posthumans doesn’t entail that future ones won’t. Even if humans are essentially self-modifying it doesn’t follow that any prospective self-modifying entity is human.
The same problem afflicts Foucault and Derrida’s attempts to hollow out a reservation for humanities scholars by identifying them with the promulgation of transgression or deconstruction. Identifying the humanities with plasticity as such throws the portals of possibility so wide that it can only refer to an abstract possibility space whose contents and topology remains closed to us. If, with Malabou, we allow that some of these transgressions will operate on the material substrate of life, then we cannot assume that its future configurations will resemble human communities or human thinkers – thinkers concerned with topics like sex, work and death for example.
Malabou concludes with the suggestion that Foucault and Derrida fail to confront a quite different problem. They do not provide a historical explanation of the possibility of transformations of life and mind to which they refer:
They both speak of historical transformations of criticism without specifying them. I think that the event that made the plastic change of plasticity possible was for a major part the discovery of a still unheard of plasticity in the middle of the XXth century, and that has become visible and obvious only recently, i.e. the plasticity of the brain that worked in a way behind continental philosophy’s back. The transformation of the transcendental into a plastic material did not come from within the Humanities. It came precisely from the outside of the Humanities, with again, the notion of neural plasticity. I am not saying that the plasticity of the human as to be reduced to a series of neural patterns, nor that the future of the humanities consists in their becoming scientific, even if neuroscience tends to overpower the fields of human sciences (let’s think of neurolinguistics, neuropsychoanalysis, neuroaesthetics, or of neurophilosophy), I only say that the Humanities had not for the moment taken into account the fact that the brain is the only organ that grows, develops and maintains itself in changing itself, in transforming constantly its own structure and shape. We may evoke on that point a book by Norman Doidge, The Brain that changes itself. Doidge shows that this changing, self-fashioning organ is compelling us to elaborate new paradigms of transformation.
I’m happy to concede that the brain is a special case of biological plasticity, but, as Eileen Joy notes elsewhere, the suggestion that the humanities have been out of touch with scientific work on the brain is unmotivated. The engagement between the humanities (or philosophy, at least) and neuroscience already includes work as diverse as Paul and Patricia Churchland’s work on neurophilosophy and Derrida’s early writings on Freud’s Scientific Project.
I’m also puzzled by the suggestion that we need to preserve a place for transcendental thinking at all here. Our posthuman predicament consists in the realization that we are alterable configurations of matter and that our powers of self-alteration are changing in ways that put the future of human thought and communal life in doubt. This is not a transcendental claim. It’s a truistic generalisation which tells us little about the cosmic fate of an ill-assorted grab bag of academic disciplines.
Clark, A. 2003. Natural-born Cyborgs: Minds, Technologies, and the Future of Human Intelligence. New York: Oxford University Press.
Critical Posthumanists argue that the idea of a universal human nature has lost its capacity to support our moral and epistemological commitments. The sources of this loss of foundational status are multiple according to writers like Donna Haraway, Katherine Hayles (1999), Neil Badmington (2003), Claire Colebrook and Rosi Braidotti. They include post-Darwinian naturalizations of life and mind that theoretically level differences between living and machinic systems and the more intimate ways of enmeshing living entities in systems of control and exploitation that flow from the new life and cognitive sciences. Latterly, writers such as Braidotti and Colebrook have argued that a politics oriented purely towards the rights and welfare of humans is incapable of addressing issues such as climate change or ecological depletion in the anthropocene era in which humans “have become a geological force capable of affecting all life on this planet” (Braidotti 2013: 66).
On the surface, this seems like a hyperbolic claim. If current global problems are a consequence of human regulation or mismanagement, then their solution will surely require human political and technological agency and institutions.
But let’s just assume that there is something to the critical posthumanist’s deconstruction of the human subject and that, in consequence, we can no longer assume that the welfare and agency of human subjects should be the exclusive goal of politics. If this is right, then critical posthumanism needs to do more than pick over the vanishing traces of the human in philosophy, literature and art. It requires an ethics that is capable of formulating the options open to some appropriately capacious political constituency in our supposedly post-anthropocentric age.
Braidotti’s recent work The Posthuman is an attempt to formulate such an ethics. Braidotti acknowledges and accepts the levelling of the status of human subjectivity implied by developments in cognitive science and biology and the “analytic posthumanism” that falls out of this new ontological vision. However, she is impatient with what she perceives as a disabling vacillation and neutrality that easily follows from junking of human subject as the arbiter of the right and the good. She argues that a posthuman ethics and politics need to retain the idea of political subjectivity; an agency capable of constructing new forms of ethical community and experimenting with new modes of being:
In my view, a focus on subjectivity is necessary because this notion enables us to string together issues that are currently scattered across a number of domains. For instance, issues such as norms and values, forms of community bonding and social belonging as well as questions of political governance both assume and require a notion of the subject.
However, according to Braidotti, this is no longer the classical self-legislating subject of Kantian humanism. It is vital, polyvalent connection-maker constituted “in and by multiplicity” – by “multiple belongings”:
The relational capacity of the posthuman subject is not confined within our species, but it includes all non-anthropocentric elements. Living matter – including the flesh – intelligent and self-organizing but it is precisely because it is not disconnected from the rest of organic life.
‘Life’, far from being codified as the exclusive property or unalienable right of one species, the human, over all others or of being sacralised as a pre-established given, is posited as process, interactive and open ended. This vitalist approach to living matter displaces the boundary between the portion of life – both organic and discursive – that has traditionally been reserved for anthropos, that is to say bios, and the wider scope of animal and nonhuman life also known as zoe (Braidotti 2012: 60).
Thus posthuman subjectivity, for Braidotti, is not human but a tendency inherent in human and nonhuman living systems alike to affiliate with other living systems to form new functional assemblages. Clearly, not everything has the capacity to perform every function. Nonetheless, living systems can be co-opted by other systems for functions “God” never intended and Mother Nature never designed them for. As Haraway put it: ‘No objects, spaces, or bodies are sacred in themselves; any component can be interfaced with any other if the proper standard, the proper code, can be constructed for processing signals in a common language’ (Haraway 1989: 187). There are no natural limits or functions for bodies or their parts, merely patterns of connection and operation that do not fall apart all at once.
Zoe . . . is the transversal force that cuts across and reconnects previously segregated species, categories and domains. Zoe-centered egalitarianism is, for me, the core of the post-anthropocentric turn: it is a materialist, secular, grounded and unsentimental response to the opportunistic trans-species commodification of Life that is the logic of advanced capitalism.
Of course, if anything can be co-opted for any function that its powers can sustain, one might ask how zoe can support a critique of advanced capitalism which, as Braidotti concedes, produces a form of the “posthuman” by radically disrupting the boundaries between humans, animals, species and technique. What could be greater expression of the zoe’s transversal potential than, say, Monsanto’s transgenic cotton Bollgard II? Bollgard II contains genes from the soil bacterium Bacillus thuringiensis that produce a toxin deadly to pests such as bollworm. Unless we believe that there is some Telos inherent to thuringiensis or to cotton that makes such transversal crossings aberrant – which Braidotti clearly does not – there appears to be no zoe-eyed perspective that could warrant her objection. Monsanto’s genetic engineers are just sensibly utilizing possibilities for connection that are already afforded by living systems but which cannot be realized without technological mediation (here via gene transfer technology). If the genes responsible for producing the toxin Bt in thuringiensis did not work in cotton and increase yields it would presumably not be the type used by the majority of farmers today (Ronald 2013).
Cognitive and biological capitalists like Google and Monsanto seem to incarnate the tendencies of zoe – conceived as a generalized possibility of connection – as much as the” not-for-profit” cyborg experimenters like Kevin Warwick or the publicly funded creators of HTML, Dolly the Sheep and Golden Rice. Doesn’t Google show us what a search engine can do?
We could object to Monsanto’s activities on the grounds that it has invidious social consequences or on the grounds that all technologies should be socially rather than corporately controlled. Neither of these arguments are obviously grounded in posthumanism or “zoe-centricism” – Marxist humanists would presumably agree with the latter claim, for example.
However, we can find the traces of a zoe-centered argument in Deleuzean ethics explored in the essay “The Ethics of Becoming Imperceptible” (Braidotti 2006). This argues for an ethics oriented towards enabling entities to actualize their powers to their fullest “sustainable” extent. A becoming or actualization of power is sustainable if the assemblage or agency exercising it can do so without “destroying” the systems that makes its exercise possible. Thus an affirmative posthuman ethics follows Nietzsche in making it possible for subjects to exercise their powers to the edge but not beyond, where that exercise falters or where the system exercising it falls apart.
To live intensely and be alive to the nth degree pushes us to the extreme edge of mortality. This has implications for the question of the limits, which are in-built in the very embodied and embedded structure of the subject. The limits are those of one’s endurance – in the double sense of lasting in time and bearing the pain of confronting ‘Life” as zoe. The ethical subject is one that can bear this confrontation, cracking up a bit but without having its physical or affective intensity destroyed by it. Ethics consists in re-working the pain into threshold of sustainability, when and if possible: cracking, but holding it, still.
So Capitalism can be criticized from the zoe-centric position if it constrains powers that could be more fully realized in a different system of social organization. For Braidotti, the capitalist posthuman is constrained by the demands of possessive individualism and accumulation.
The perversity of advanced capitalism, and its undeniable success, consists in reattaching the potential for experimentation with new subject formations back to an overinflated notion of possessive individualism . . ., tied to the profit principle. This is precisely the opposite direction from the non-profit experimentations with intensity, which I defend in my theory of posthuman subjectivity. The opportunistic political economy of bio-genetic capitalism turns Life/zoe – that is to say human and non-human intelligent matter – into a commodity for trade and profit (Braidotti 2013: 60-61).
Thus she supports “non-profit” experiments with contemporary subjectivity that show what “contemporary, biotechnologically mediated bodies are capable of doing” while resisting the neo-liberal appropriation of living entities as tradable commodities.
Whether the constraint claim is true depends on whether an independent non-capitalist posthuman (in Braidotti’s sense of the term) is possible or whether significant posthuman experimentation – particularly those involving sophisticated technologies like AI or Brain Computer Interfaces – will depend on the continued existence of a global capitalist technical system to support it. I admit to being agnostic about this. While modern technologies such as gene transfer do not seem essentially capitalist, there is little evidence to date that a noncapitalist system could develop them or their concomitant forms of hybridized “posthuman” more prolifically.
Nonetheless, there seems to be a significant ethical claim at issue here that can be used independently of its applicability to the critique of contemporary capitalism.
For example, I have recently argued for an overlap or convergence between critical posthumanism and Speculative Posthumanism: the claim that descendants of current humans could cease to be human by virtue of a history of technical augmentation (SP). Braidotti’s ethics of sustainability is pertinent here because SP in its strong form is also post-anthropocentric – it denies that posthuman possibility is structured a priori by human modes of thought or discourse – and because it defines the posthuman in terms of its power to escape from a socio-technical system organized around human-dependent ends (Roden 2012). The technological offspring described by SP will need to be functionally autonomous insofar as they will have to develop their own ends or modes of existence outside or beyond the human space of ends. Reaching “posthuman escape velocity” will require the cultivation and expression of powers in ways that are sustainable for such entities. This presupposes, of course, that we can have a conception of a subject or agent that is grounded in their embodied capacities or powers rather than general principles applicable to human agency. Understanding its ethical valence thus requires an affirmative conception of these powers that is not dependent on overhanging anthropocentric ideas such as moral autonomy. Braidotti’s ethics of sustainability thus suggests some potentially viable terms of reference for formulating an ethics of becoming posthuman in the speculative sense.
Badmington, N. (2003) ‘Theorizing Posthumanism’, Cultural Critique 53 (Winter): 10-27.
Braidotti, R (2006), ‘The Ethics of Becoming Imperceptible”, in Deleuze and Philosophy, ed. Constantin Boundas, Edinburgh University Press: Edinburgh, 2006, pp. 133-159.
Braidotti, R (2013), The Posthuman, Cambridge: Polity Press.
Colebrook, Claire 2012a.), “A Globe of One’s Own: In Praise of the Flat Earth.” Substance: A Review of Theory & Literary Criticism 41 (1): 30–39.
Colebrook, Claire (2012b.), “Not Symbiosis, Not Now: Why Anthropogenic Change Is Not Really Human.” Oxford Lit Review 34 (2): 185–209.
Haraway, Donna (1989), ‘A Manifesto for Cyborgs: Science, Technology, and Socialist Feminism in the 1980s’. Coming to Terms, Elizabeth Weed (ed.), London: Routledge, 173-204.
Hayles, K. N. (1999) How We Became Posthuman: Virtual Bodies in Cybernetics, Literature, and Informatics. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Roden, D. (2010). ‘Deconstruction and excision in philosophical posthumanism’. The Journal of Evolution & Technology, 21(1), 27-36.
Roden, D. (2012). ‘The Disconnection Thesis’. In Singularity Hypotheses (pp. 281-298). Springer Berlin Heidelberg.
Roden, D. (2013). ‘Nature’s Dark domain: an argument for a naturalized phenomenology’. Royal Institute of Philosophy Supplement, 72, 169-188.
Roden, R (2014). Posthuman Life: philosophy at the edge of the human. Acumen Publishing.
There’s a very interesting discussion of the merits of Marxism and an Anarchist-Green politics set out in John Zerzan’s book Twilight of the Machines (which I’ll admit to downloading, not reading!) over at the (Dis)loyal Opposition to Modernity. As I understand from the gloss in the DOM post, Zerzan views technology as inherently alienating and destructive and proposes its relinquishment in the interest of human autonomy and the planet (this gloss may need nuancing, obviously!).
Unlike some technophilic left-liberals, I treat relinquishment as a serious moral response to the incompatibility of technical modernity and political transparency. This is because modern technological systems are post-geographic and post-cultural – that is, any invention or device can be replicated in multiple contexts with inherently unpredictable results on the rest of the system (think, for example, of the global impact of Tim Berners Lee’s invention of hypertext for cabal of physicists at CERN). If modern technological systems are inherently unpredictable, then they are inherently uncontrollable. So even if we replace capitalist forms of ownership with a more rational way of allocating resources we’ll still be “living on this thing like fleas on a cat” (to quote Dr Gaius Baltar,)
The only options to verminous status I can conceive are relinquishment or a kind of anti-technological theocracy that artificially restricts the dynamism of self-augmenting technological systems (SATS). Both solutions are arguably based on a self-defeating ideal of sovereignty or autonomy. As Martin Hägglund argues via Derrida, there is no decision without the spacing between now and then – meaning that we can’t live without chancing the worst. The Anarcho-Green is thus a wrong-headed, philosophically naïve death-obsessive but, as fantasies of self-immolation go, his a relatively intelligible one.
Metaphysical Realism (MR) is not one claim but, Putnam argues, a package of interrelated claims about the mind-world relationship. The key components of MR are 1) the independence thesis; 2) the correspondence thesis; 3) the uniqueness thesis. The independence thesis states that there is a fixed totality of mind independent objects (the world). The correspondence thesis states that there are determinate reference relations between bits of language or mental representations and the bits of the world to which they refer. The uniqueness theory states that there is a theory whose sentences correctly describe the states of all these objects. This implies a singular correspondence between the terms belonging to this theory and the objects and properties that they refer to (Putnam 1981, 49). As a package it is cohesive. One needs mind-independent properties and objects as objects/properties to correspond to. There must be some unique total fact about these objects if there is to be one correct way in which a theory can represent this total fact.
We can imagine this theory being expressed in a language consisting of names like “Fido” and “Shlomo”, property and relation terms like “…is a dog”, “…is a cat” or “…is father of…”, as well as all the quantificational apparatus that we need to make multiple generalizations: e.g. “There is at least one thing that is a cat” or “All dogs hate at least one cat”. Of course, since this is the one true theory we might expect it to contain enough mathematics (e.g. set theory) to express the true laws of physics, the true laws of chemistry, etc. However, for this to be one true theory each true sentence that we can derive from it – e.g. “Shlomo is a cat” – must hook up with the world in the right way. For example, “Shlomo” must determinately refer to a unique object and this object must have the property referred to by “…is a cat” (this property might be the set of all cats or it might be universal property of catness – again, depending on the metaphysical facts). [i]
An assignment of referents to terms along these lines is called an interpretation function. The set of objects, properties, relations, etc. that are matched up to terms by a particular interpretation function is called a model. Putnam’s account of metaphysical realism then, in effect says that metaphysical realism is the claim that there is a unique description of the world hooked up to that world by a single true interpretation function (matching names to objects, property terms to properties, etc.).
The uniqueness of the corresponding interpretation function is crucial here because if there were more than one good way of interpreting the terms of the one true theory, there would be alternative theories, each one corresponding to a different interpretation function for the constituent terms of its language.[ii] In that case, there would not be one correct description of the world. But if realism comes down to a commitment to there being a God’s eye view of the world – a uniquely true theory which picks out the way the world is – then realism would have to be rejected.
What is the virtue that makes the one true theory unique? Well, to count as the one true theory, it would, at minimum, need to satisfy all the “operational constraints” that ideally rational inquirers would impose on such a theory. For example, if one imagines science progressing to an ideal limit at which no improvements can be made in its explanatory power, coherence, elegance or simplicity, then the one true theory would have to be as acceptable to ideally rational enquirers as that theory (Putnam 1981, 30).
Putnam’s argument against realism is that given a theory that satisfies this ideal of operational virtue there would always be a second equally good theory that can be constructed by giving the sentences of the first different interpretations. Further, he argues, that there is nothing beyond operational virtue that might distinguish the first theory from the second because there are no mind-independent semantic facts that specify the right interpretation. If this is right, then there cannot be a one true theory that completely describes the world.
The argument begins with a theorem of model theory.[iii] The model-theoretic notion of a theory is that it is a language L under a given interpretation function I which maps the terms of L onto a universe of objects and properties (properties are treated as sets of objects. For example, the relation of fatherhood would be the set of all ordered pairs, the second member of which is the son of the first member.). The theorem states that for every theory T1 (consisting of a language L under interpretation I) it is possible to gerrymander a function J that interprets each term L “in violently different ways, each of them compatible with the requirement that the truth value of each sentence in each possible world be the one specified” (Putnam 1981, 33, 217-218). The basic idea is that under these “permutated” interpretation functions, the sentences that come out true in T1 in a given possible world would come out true in T2 in that world.[iv] The two theories T1 and T2 would not differ in assignments of truth values to sentences in any possible world and – being expressed in the same words – would have exactly the same structure, so each would be as simple and as elegant as the other.
However, metaphysical realism is committed to the view that even an ideally confirmed and simple theory could be comprehensively false because truth is “radically non-epistemic” – that is truth is a matter of whether a sentence corresponds with the world, not of how well confirmed that sentence is. This is, of course, the position that Descartes is committed to in his Evil Demon thought experiment. The semantic facts that give my beliefs reference to a possible world are unaffected by the existence or nature of the mind-external world. Putnam’s version of this realist conceit is the science fictional notion that we might be brains in vats being fed simulated experiences by a mad neurophysiologist. Thus, according to metaphysical realism, even a theory T1 that is operationally ideal and irrefutable for vat brains could be still be false (Putnam 1978, 125). However, unlike Descartes, Putnam argues that this conceit is incoherent. If T1 is consistent it is possible to find an interpretation function that maps the language of T1 onto a model containing elements of whatever world happens to exist – even if that is vat-world. So under this interpretation T1 comes out true, not false (Putnam 1978, 126).
It can be objected that this would not be the interpretation “intended” by the vat brains (or the ensorcelled Descartes, if one prefers). But T1 would be operationally as good as it gets for the envatted. It would inform their practices of inference and prediction in just the same way that it would were it true. There seems to be nothing beyond these practices of judgment and inference that could fix the meaning of terms like “cat” or “dog” – though these are clearly not sufficient to give uniquely determinate meaning.
Some philosophers have argued that uniquely intended interpretations can be imposed by our contents of our beliefs or ideas. For example, maybe my idea of a cat and actual cats shares a mysterious essence of catness which “exists both in the thing and (minus the latter) in our minds” which, in turn, fixes the reference of property terms like “cat” (Putnam 1983, 206; 1981, 59-61). Putnam argues that this response makes recourse to a magic language of self-interpreting mental-signs: it states, in effect, that there are mental representations that just mean what they mean irrespective of how the world is or of their role in inference. Here Putnam is in agreement with the French deconstructionist, Jacques Derrida. For Derrida, as for Putnam, a sign is a mark that acquires it meaning by being used differently from other signs, whether the mark is spoken, written or occurs in the brain or in some purely mental medium (if such a thing exits). A particular inscription or brain state or sound only counts as a sign insofar as it functions or is used differently from other signs. The obvious candidate for “use” and “function” here are the roles of signs in inferences and in interpretative practices. But these, as has been seen, are unable to fix a unique model for T1.
So it does not matter whether we are talking about mental signs or signs in language: they derive meaning from their differential functioning. For Derrida this has the complicating consequence that any mark must be “iterable”: i.e. can be lifted from its standard contexts and grafted into new ones, thereby acquiring different functions (Derrida 1988, 9-10). However, for our purposes, the important consequence is that appealing to “inner” or mental signs to fix the intended meanings of T1 seems to presents us with exactly the same problem of indeterminacy as we had with T1 itself (Putnam 1978, 127; 1983, 207).
If this is right, then the realist claim that an ideally confirmed theory could be false just comes down to the claim that there are self-standing minds or self-standing languages whose meanings are fixed regardless of how things lie in the world. But if Putnam is right, there are no self-standing meanings in this sense. Descartes thought experiment in either its 17th Century Demonic version or its modern Neuro or Simulationist versions is incoherent.
But, Putnam argues, this means that the idea that truth is non-epistemic is incoherent. To suppose that our beliefs could all be false, no matter how well they conform to experience and canons of enquiry makes no sense (Putnam 1978, 128-130). And (assuming the soundness of Putnam’s model theoretic argument) this also means that the idea of a privileged, God’s eye view of the world – MR -is incoherent. There is no single theory that uniquely corresponds to the nature of a mind-independent world because there are always other interpretation functions with which to generate new theories with the same degree of epistemic virtue. Thus the assumption that the world has an intrinsic nature independently of how it is construed from the standpoint of a particular theory or form of life is as much an ungrounded superstition as the notion of substantial forms.
Rather than aspiring to the idealized God’s eye view of metaphysical realism, Putnam argues that we should recognize that truth, reference and objectivity are properties that our claims and experiences have in virtue of “our” practices of inference, confirmation and observation. To say that the sentence “’Cow’ refers to cows” is true is not to make a claim about some determinate relationship – reference – between word and world but to say something about the situations in which a competent speaker of English should use the term ‘cow’ (Putnam 1978, 128, 136). From within the shared practices of English speaker, this fact just shows up as an a priori truth. But this (as Kant also claimed) does not reflect some impossible insight into the mind-independent nature of things, but simply reflects our acculturated understanding of what is appropriate to say, when (137). Even the metaphysical structure of the world is – according to this view – a perspective that reflects the background understanding and interests of creatures who share the relevant concerns and practices. Reference is, as Putnam puts it elsewhere, a “matter of interpretation” which presupposes “a sophisticated understanding of the way words are used by the community whose words one is interpreting” (Putnam 1995, 119). So, by the same token, there can be no ready-made totality of objects of reference since (again) this presupposes the discredited God’s eye view:
[From] my “internal realist” perspective at least, there is no such totality as All the Objects There are, inside or outside science. “Object” itself has many uses, and as we creatively invent new uses of words, we find that we can speak of “objects that were not “values of any variable” in any language we previous spoke (The invention of “set theory” by Cantor is a good example of this.) (Putnam 1995, 120)
Derrida, Jacques (1988). Limited Inc. Samuel Weber and Jeffrey Mehlman (trans.),Evanston Ill.:
Northwestern University Press.
Putnam, Hilary (1978). Meaning and the Moral Sciences. Routledge & K. Paul.
Putnam, Hilary (1981). Reason, Truth, and History. Cambridge University Press.
Putnam, Hilary (1983). Realism and Reason: Philosophical Papers Volume 3. Cambridge University Press.
[i] We can summarise this state of affairs as follows:
“Fido” —> the object Fido
“Shlomo” —> the object Shlomo
“…is a cat…” —> property of cattiness
“…is a dog…” —> property of dogginess
“…is the father of…” —> relation of fatherhood
[ii] For example, we can imagine a deviant interpretation function that maps up terms in the “wrong” way:
“Fido” —> the object Fido’s shadow
“Shlomo” —> the object Shlomo’s shadow
“…is a cat…” —> property of being the shadow of a cat
“…is a dog…” —> property of being the shadow of a dog
“…is the father of…” —> relation of fatherhood
[iii] The branch of mathematical logic that examines the formal relationships between languages and the models assigned to them under interpretation functions.
[iv] Suppose T1 has an interpretation function I that includes the first set of assignments given above (“Fido” refers to Fido, “Shlomo” refers to Shlomo, etc.) whereas T2’s interpretation function has the second. Thus the sentence “Shlomo is a cat” says that the object Shlomo is a cat in T1 whereas the same sentence say that a particular shadow is the shadow of a cat, which also happens to be true.
There’s a fascinating post over at M-Phi, asking whether Godel’s use of numbers to code formal relations of derivability in his proof of the incompleteness of arithmetic can be generalized to logical systems which don’t “contain” arithmetic. Not coincidentally, it includes a link to an interesting paper by Paul Livingstone on Derrida, Priest and Godel which looks at the role of syntax in marking the undecidable elements of texts in deconstruction. New APPS will be hosting a symposium on the paper next week.
Derrida’s reading of Stéphane Mallarmé’s poem Mimique is central to Livingstone’s discussion, but as an aid for those who are not familiar with either, I’ve posted a brief commentary on it from my dusty PhD thesis (It was entitled: The Metaphysics of the Deconstructive Text, if you have to know!).
Rodolphe Gasché compares Derrida’s philosophical project with Husserl’s program for a logical grammar. Logical grammar, in its Husserlian sense, is only derivatively concerned with the structure of language. Syntactic distinctions between linguistic elements are of interest to logical grammar to the extent that they are indicative of the a priori laws governing the composition of intentional contents in cognitive or expressive acts. For example, in Logical Investigation IV Husserl distinguishes between complete, or ‘categorematic’, expressions which express a complete propositional content or a singular presentation, and non-independent, or ‘syncategorematic’, expressions whose senses contribute systematically to independent meanings but which do not express thoughts or refer to objects. Examples of syncategoremata are: ‘but’, ‘between’, ‘The sister of…’, ‘…implies…’. Among the a priori laws that Husserl has in mind would be that a syncategoreme cannot concatenated with a definite article.
The parallel between Husserl and Derrida, according to Gasché, consists in a common concern with formal or, in Derrida’s case, quasi-formal structures which account for the articulation of elements into discursive wholes. For Derrida, as for Gasché, Husserl’s project is limited by being oriented by semantics: in particular, the values of truth or reference. Thus sentences that are necessarily false, such as ‘The circle is square’, are meaningful, but, according to Derrida, are presumed meaningful because their grammatical form ‘tolerates the possibility of relation with [an] object’. Derrida’s project, according to Gasché, extends formality beyond the domain of semantics or logic, to structures which resist either phenomenological or semantic interpretation. He illustrates the quasi-syntactical character of différance, trace and the other infrastructures with reference to Derrida’s reading of part of Mallarmé’s prose poem, Mimique, in ‘The Double Session’:
La scène n’illustre que l’idée, pas une action effective, dans un hymen (d’où procède le Rêve), vicieux mais sacré, entre le désir et l’accomplissement, la perpétration et son souvenir: ici devançant, là remémorant, au futur, au passé, sous une apparence fausse de présent...
Though hymen contributes to the imagistic content of the poem, Derrida suggests that its structural role is as a syntactic place holder which resists onto-grammatical categorization. Although formally a noun – and thus a categoreme in Husserlian terms – Derrida argues that the role of hymen in the poem is largely independent of its meaning but is, rather, determined by its relation to entre, ‘between’: ‘Through the “hymen” one can remark only what the place of the word entre already marks and would mark even if the world “hymen” were not there. If we replaced “hymen” by “marriage” or “crime”, “identity” or “difference”, etc. the effect would be the same, the only loss being a certain economic condensation or accumulation’. The putatively independent hymen is thus textually dependent upon the nominally syncategorematic entre, an element whose ‘signification’ is itself dependent upon its placement. In addition to its grammatical equivocation, hymen is also a ‘between’ of temporal phases of action and cognition (entre le désir et l’accomplissement, la perpétration et son souvenir: ici devançant, là remémorant, au futur, au passé) without being temporally situated (sous une apparence fausse de présent). The indeterminacy of this locus (which, for Derrida, cannot without violence be interpreted as ‘eternal’) can nonetheless be articulated with respect to more or less stable lexical values (devançant, re-mémorant, futur, passé, présent, etc.).
Mimique thus demonstrates, in microcosm, the process by which language extracts a surplus of meaning without being informed by a prior relation to some domain of objects. This is the sense in which, for Gasché, Derrida’s investigations can be considered as a generalization of Husserl’s project:
The system of these infrastructures as one of syntactically re-marked syncategoremata is a system that escapes all phenomenologization as such; it constantly disappears and withdraws from all possible presentation. In privileging the syntactical in the sense in which I have been developing it – suspended from semantic subject matters of whatever sort – the general system spells out the prelogical conditions of logic, thus reinscribing logic, together with its implications of presence and evident meaning, into a series of linguistic functions of which the logical is only one among others. 
D Dissemination, Barbara Johnson (trans.),
(1972; London: Athlone Press, 1981).
SP Speech and Phenomena, David Allison (trans.),
(Evanston Ill.: Northwestern University Press, 1973).
TM Rodolphe Gashe, The Tain of the Mirror: Derrida and the Philosophy of Reflection
(London: Harvard University Press, 1986).
 Edmund Husserl, Logical Investigations, IV, pp. 501-503.
 SP, p. 99.
 TM, pp. 248-249.
 Cited in D, p. xx.
 Ibid., p. 221.
 TM, p. 250.
There’s an instructive debate going on between Graham Harman at Object Oriented Philosophy (henceforth OOO) and Levi Bryant over at Larval Subjects (henceforth LS) about whether Derrida’s work is serviceable for realism. OOO is emphatic: not only is Derrida not a ‘plug and play’ realist, his work has no realist application at all. Unlike Heidegger – whose account of withdrawal can be given a realist spin in Object-Oriented circles – Derrida’s position is not amenable to realist use or even to creative abuse. Here’s OOO:
I think it’s simply madness to call Derrida a realist. His entire argument makes sense only by identifying realism with onto-theology and hence with parousia/presence. He reads the concept of substance as the foot soldier of onto-theology. His critique of the proper is a very frank critique of realism. His theory of the trace is another anti-realist maneuver, not a realist one since that would open the door, in his view, to the “transcendental signified.”
There’s obvious textual support for OOO’s position. Derrida does claim in Of Grammatology that infrastructures like trace and différance provide a condition of possibility for presence and ‘onto-theological’ thinking without being presences or grounding entities themselves. Indeed, for Derrida, they provide the invisible underside or ‘tain’ of all thought, reflection or representation.
The term Différance, like its cognate infrastructural markers ‘trace’ and ‘supplement’ and ‘iterability’, is an economical allusion to structures of negation, co-involvement and co-implication within general textuality. Textuality, for Derrida, should not be identified with language. A text, according to Derrida, is any structure that can be characterized by such operations and relationships. For example, any text will have to consist of elements that are minimally repeatable: ‘A sign which would take place but “once” would not be a sign: a purely idiomatic sign would not be a sign’ (SP, 50) Language is the paradigm of this, but Derrida argues that even the neural memory trace within Freud’s prototype theory of neural networks has to be reactivatable to do its job – though each reactivation alters the relative amenability to stimulation that differentiates it from other memory traces (WD). Derrida’s analysis of the neural trace in ‘Freud and the Scene of Writing’ meanwhile refers to his earlier analysis of Husserl’s account of temporal awareness. Again, this requires any ‘now’ to be implicated with a retained past while potentiating a not yet determinate, novel future. Thus as Derrida claims in ‘Signature Event Context’ structures like spacing, trace and iterability are invariants. They extend to all representation, to all experience (LI 10).
Derrida’s claim about general textuality may all seem like an excessively subtle way of saying that meaning and content cannot be instantiated in formless pap. However, the infrastructural account has the virtue of extreme generality. It is something very much like a textual ontology – even if JD never conceded this.
Enter LS who makes the central point that iterability (one of the textual infrastructures) requires that entities cannot be dissolved into their relations. Since he is an object-oriented philosopher he frames this as a claim about objects: ‘For Derrida, it seems, any object can be severed from its relations to other objects.’ This is important because Derrida is usually cast as an arch-holist. But it is obvious to anyone who reads him carefully that this is not the case. LS is alluding, of course, to passages such as following one from ‘Signature Event Context’:
Every sign, linguistic or nonlinguistic, spoken or written (in the usual sense of this opposition), in a small or large unit, can be cited, put between quotation marks: in so doing it can break with every given context, engendering an infinity of new contexts in a manner that is absolutely illimitable . . . This citationality, this duplication or duplicity, this iterability of the mark is neither an accident nor an anomaly, it is that (normal/abnormal) without which a mark could not even have a function called ‘normal’ (LI, p. 12).
So while Derrida may not be a realist, it is clear that he cannot be a holist. No text is exhausted by its passing affiliations. This also means that Derrida cannot be a relativist since relativism requires relativization to some constraining super-context. Iterability says, in effect, that there is no super-context: all contexts are fragile and open. ‘Mass’ may play a different role in Newton to the role it plays in Einstein (for whom there is both relativistic and proper mass) but this does not mean that the two terms are just their respective theoretical roles. Can this point be generalized to get us something like realism? Well, we need to ask: ‘Realism with respect to what?’ Both LS and OOO use the idiom of things or objects. So if LS is right and iterability requires that things be reusable from context to context and Derrida is committed to iterability, then Derrida is committed to things. Ergo, he’s a realist about objects. But OOO is probably right to insist that Derrida’s no thing fan.
However, it may be that Derrida has ontological commitments to things other than things. An iteration like my quotation/mention of ‘if’ in this sentence is an event. For texts (in the general sense) to work there need to be events that are both differentiated and repeatable. What makes this further ‘if’ a token of the same type as this ‘if’ is not its instantiation of a common signifying essence but its iterability. So Derrida is committed to events and he’s committed to relations of repetition between event instances. This means that he’s committed to repeatable events, of course. But there are different models of repetition. Here’s Nelson Goodman: ‘
Repetition as well as identification is relative to organization. A world may be unmanageably heterogeneous or unbearably monotonous according to how events are sorted into kinds (WWW, 9).
THIS is relativism: repetition is relative to organizing scheme. But it’s clear that Derridean repetition cannot be scheme-relative in this sense because that would limit iteration to super-contexts and iteration is ‘absolutely illimitable’. So, as I argued long ago in RQRR, we have to say that Derridean repetition is real repetition. Since repetition occurs to events, these must be structurally repeatable. Derridean events are repeatable particulars, however, not abstract events of the kind posited by Ronald Chisholm. So Derrida is a) not a relativist and b) he is ontologically committed to repeatable particular events and their repetitions. So Derrida is a realist with regard to events and their repetition. However, these occurrences are realized they occur independently of organizing schemes or concepts. They are mind-independent, then, insofar as their occurrence does not depend on the constitutive activity of subjects and language users.
LI Limited Inc., Samuel Weber and Jeffrey Mehlman (trans.),
(1977; Evanston Ill.: Northwestern University Press, 1988).
OG Of Grammatology, Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak (trans.),
(London: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1976).
SP Speech and Phenomena, David Allison (trans.),
(Evanston Ill.: Northwestern University Press, 1973).
WD Writing and Difference, Alan Bass (trans.),
(1967; London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1978).
WWW Nelson Goodman, Ways of World Making (Indianapolis: Hacket, 1978).
RQRR, David Roden, ‘Radical Quotation and Real Repetition’, Ratio (new series) XVII 2 June 2004, 191-206.