Arkady Plotnitsky
The Literature Program and
The Center for Interdisciplinary Studies
in Science and Cultural Theory
Duke University
aplotnit@acpub.duke.edu
Und darum: Hoch die Physik! Und höher noch das, was uns zu ihr zwingt,–unsre Redlichkeit!
–Nietzsche
The Einsteinian constant is not a constant, is not a center. It is the very concept of variability--it is, finally, the concept of the game [jeu]. In other words, it is not the concept of something--of a center starting from which an observer could master the field--but the very concept of the game which, after all, I was trying to elaborate.1
This statement by Jacques Derrida has been endlessly circulated in recent discussions around the so-called “Science Wars,” in the wake of Paul R. Gross and Norman Levitt’s Higher Superstition, and then Alan Sokal’s “hoax article,” both of which comment on it.2 This circulation, I shall argue here, is a symptom of a broader problem affecting the current cultural landscape and shaping the opinions of a significant portion of the scientific community. Arguments analogous to the one to be offered here concerning Derrida’s work can be made for other figures prominent in recent debates, such as Gilles Deleuze, Jean-François Lyotard, and Michel Serres. My choice of Derrida is due mainly to the extraordinary prominence of the statement cited above and of his work or rather name in general in these discussions. Even given Derrida’s status as an icon of intellectual controversy on the Anglo-American cultural scene, it is remarkable that out of thousands of pages of Derrida’s published works, a single extemporaneous remark on relativity made in 1966 (before Derrida was “the Derrida” and, in a certain sense, even before “deconstruction”) in response to a question by another French philosopher, Jean Hyppolite, is made to stand for nearly all of deconstructive or even postmodernist (not a term easily, if at all, applicable to Derrida) treatments of science. Derrida has commented more extensively and in more grounded ways on mathematics and science, and on the philosophical grounding of both.3 He also makes use of mathematical and scientific theories, concepts, metaphors, and so forth (most famously, Gödel’s concept of undecidability) in his work. In addition, his work is fundamentally linked to the question of technology via the question of writing, which defines his work throughout. Both in his actual claims concerning mathematics and science he refers to and in reflecting on the relationships between his work and mathematics and science, Derrida himself is cautious and circumspect, and offers a number of disclaimers. He emphasizes instead the centrality of his engagement with philosophical and literary texts for his work.4 One might argue that mathematics and science play a more significant role in his work than Derrida is willing to claim, or perhaps than he perceives. He certainly acknowledges the possibility and indeed unavoidability of intersections between the problematics of his own work and mathematics and science, and even says that “science is absolutely indispensable for deconstruction.”5 Neither Derrida’s more substantive discussions of mathematics and science, however, nor his caution in this respect, are considered by his recent critics in the scientific community. These critics instead appear to base their views of Derrida’s ideas, and those of other figures just mentioned, on indiscriminately extracted, isolated references to science or on snippets of his texts, without placing such statements in the context of his work.
The problems at issue may, then, be seen as problems of reading. At stake here are, first of all, the most elementary and the most traditional norms of reading. Such norms would be routinely applied by scientists in reading scientific texts but are massively disregarded by most scientists who commented on Derrida and other authors mentioned above.6 I shall, therefore, consider the circumstances, contexts, and meanings of Derrida’s remark on relativity more carefully than has been done previously, although more recently some among these circumstances and contexts have been pointed out and partly (re)considered, including by some scientists. Secondly, and more significantly, at stake is the question of reading non-scientific texts, such as Derrida’s, when these texts engage or relate to science (or mathematics), especially when they reflect fundamental conceptual conjunctions of scientific and nonscientific fields. Accordingly, I shall suggest a reading of Derrida’s statement on relativity that might help to develop more balanced and productive forms of interaction between science and the work of Derrida and other authors discussed in recent debates. I would like, however, to begin elsewhere and to return to Derrida’s statement via two incursions–exploratory surgeries, as it were–into recent responses to this work on the part of the scientific community.
Charm and Harm
I begin with comments on a different statement by Derrida made in 1993 by Arthur Wightman, a brilliant theoretical physicist, in his “post-banquet” talk at a conference at the Oak Ridge National Laboratory. He said:
What I offer this evening is a truly revolutionary interdisciplinary proposal. What I really mean is that it isn't any crazier than what is served up in Washington these days. My proposal is an application of a method of modern literary criticism to high energy physics.
To appreciate what I am about to describe, you have to know a little something about modern literary criticism. The first basic fact is that, just as in women’s fashions, the fads in English language literary criticism originate in Paris. The second basic fact is that a very big fad, called deconstruction, originated there about 30 years ago and its chief is a man named Jacques Derrida. You should not confuse him with another different Derrida a physicist who works in dynamical systems. The third basic fact is that deconstructivists are self proclaimed revolutionaries, iconoclasts, and liberators, who undermine, subvert, expose, undo, transgress, and demystify traditional ideas, traditional logic, authoritative readings, illusions of objectivity etc. The fourth basic fact is that the style in which Derrida chooses to carry out these operations is deliberately paradoxical. Here is an exemplary piece of Derrida’s prose:
“It is thus simply [sic] false to say that Mallarmé is a Platorist [sic] or a Hegelian. But it is above all not true. And vice verse.”
Maybe you didn’t quite follow that so I will read it again. … So try it this way:
“Senator, it is simply false to say that funding the SSC [the superconducting supercollider] will interfere with support for research on high temperature superconductivity. But it is above all not true. And vice versa.”
Now you’ve got it.
The fifth basic fact is the great simplification deconstruction has brought to literature, by abolishing the author. You thought that authors wrote books, poems and plays? Wrong–literature is what the reader reads into the text.
After all this preparation, I shall state my idea in a few words: I propose that we apply this powerful literary method to the superconducting supercollider. What Derrida did to literature we can do to the SSC: deconstruct it. I propose that we begin with a typically bold deconstructive stroke: abolishing the state of Texas. To the inevitable question: What are we going to do with that hole in the ground near Waxahatchie? The answer will then be clear: What hole in the ground?7
It is tempting to argue that there is more charm than harm, in these remarks, given their tone and context, and the significance of such circumstances is indeed significant for my overall argument here. And yet, even if these remarks were made humorously, rather than critically, and without professing any knowledge of or making a serious judgement upon Derrida and deconstruction (and I am willing to give Wightman the benefit of the doubt), Wightman’s charm is, I shall argue, not without harm. Along with others (much more harmful ones), his remarks are also symptomatic of the problem– the problem of reading–that is my main concern here. In order to argue this case I shall examine Derrida’s statement (as) cited by Wightman. I leave aside an inconsequential typo–Platorist instead of Platonist. There is another error, however, a more consequential one, and then still another (not a typo), the most consequential one. I would now like to compare the text as cited by Wightman with the original French and the English translation of it (by Barbara Johnson):
Par rapport l'idéalisme platonicien and hegelien, le déplacement que nous nommons ici par convention "mallarméen", est plus subtil et patient, discret et efficient. C'est un simulacre de platonisme ou de hegelianisme qui n'est séparé de ce qu'il simule que par un voile peine perceptible, dont on peut tout aussi bien dire qu'il passe déjà-- inaperçu--entre le platonisme et lui-même, entre le hegelianisme et lui-même. Entre le texte de Mallarmé et lui-même. Il n'est donc pas simplement faux de dire que Mallarmé est platonicien ou hegelien. Mais ce n'est surtout pas vrai.
Et réciproquement.
Nous intéressent moins ici ces propositions de forme philosophique que le mode de leur réinscription dans la texte de Mimique.
(In comparison with Platonic or Hegelian Idealism, the displacement we are here for the sake of convenience calling “Mallarméan” is more subtle and patient, more discrete and efficient. It is a simulacrum of Platonism or Hegelianism, which is separated from what it simulates only by a barely perceptible veil, about which one can just as well say that it already runs–unnoticed–between Platonism and itself, between Hegelianism and itself. Between Mallarmé’s text and itself. It is thus not simply false to say that Mallarmé is a Platonist or a Hegelian. But it is above all not true.
And vice versa.
What interests us here is less these propositions of a philosophical type than the mode of their inscription in the text of Mimique [Mallarmé's work under discussion].)8
Wightman changes Derrida’s negative sentence into a positive one, since Derrida’s statement is, “It is thus not simply false to say that Mallarmé is a Platonist or Hegelian. But it is above all not true.” I shall comment on “And vice versa” presently. It is clear, however, that Derrida’s formulation becomes something quite different, once cited accurately. Obviously, one also needs an extension of the text in order to understand this statement, as Derrida’s “thus” indicates. Derrida’s writing here is entirely lucid, although it may require a slow reading–which may well be the definition of philosophy. The English translation incorrectly, and unnecessarily, renders Derrida’s “Et réciproquement” as “And vice versa,” rather than as “And reciprocally.” The paragraph break is even more crucial, as must be obvious if one looks at the passage, either in French or in English. It is, however, ignored by Wightman and by John Ellis in Against Deconstruction, from which (rather than from Derrida’s Dissemination) Wightman quotes or misquotes, since Ellis does not omit the negative. In spite of Ellis’s “faithful” reproduction, another misquotation, more subtle but more significant, remains in Ellis’s book as well, and is transferred to Wightman’s citation. Ellis cites this formulation only as part of Johnson’s commentary on certain of Derrida’s ideas and practices, which this passage (supposedly) illustrates.9 Unfortunately, contrary to Ellis’s assertion–“Johnson is certainly abstracting from Derrida’s writings in a way that does not distort them” (Against Deconstruction, 6)–Johnson’s elaboration also disregards Derrida’s paragraph break and, as a result, misconstrues the passage as well, albeit with the best intentions. She reads it as an example of Derrida’s “practice” of philosophical undecidability. This “practice” is sometimes used by Derrida, including, at certain points, in Dissemination. In general, however, it has been over-attributed to him, especially at certain (earlier) stages of the reception of his work in the United States, to which period Johnson’s article belongs. Her reading may also have been the source of her (mis)translation of Derrida’s “Et réciproquement” as “And vice versa.” The concept itself (analogous but not identical to Gödel’s undecidability) does play a prominent role in Derrida’s work, specifically in his reading of Mallarmé. There is, however, nothing undecidable in Derrida’s propositions here concerning Mallarmé’s relationships to Hegelianism or Platonism. These have decidable, determined meanings, and Derrida’s elaboration itself is accessible, even if one does not have extensive knowledge of his work.
Most crucially, the juncture established by “And reciprocally” would read more or less as follows. Mallarmé’s text may look like an instance of Platonic or Hegelian idealism, but it is not. It has both subtle proximities to and subtle differences from idealism. As such, it also suggests certain complexities within Platonism and Hegelianism themselves, especially as concerns reading Plato’s and Hegel’s texts by these two respective traditions. Therefore, “it is not simply false to say that Mallarmé is a Platonist or a Hegelian.” That is, it is not enough to make this point alone–much more is at stake, including possibly major rereadings of Plato and Hegel. However, and indeed “above all,” such a statement (a statement that would identify his text with either Platonism or Hegelianism) would not be true. There is no undecidability to Derrida’s assertion. This argument is reinforced by a long footnote, proceeding via Hyppolite’s reading of Mallarmé. Derrida’s “and reciprocally” connects this whole elaboration (including the footnote) with the first sentence of the next paragraph, rather than with the sentence “But it is above all not true.” There is no undecidable reversal here. This reading is further supported by the fact that the footnote just mentioned occurs after “vrai,” rather than after “Et réciproquement,” and thus further indicates that the text breaks in the way argued here. The statement, then, reads as follows: “And reciprocally [with the argument that Mallarmé’s text enacts a displacement that must be distinguished from Platonist or Hegelian idealism], what interests us here is less these propositions of a philosophical type than the mode of their reinscription in the text of Mimique.”
Derrida’s statement is, thus, something very different from what Wightman appears to think it is, especially in view of his misquotation. I suspect that correcting the latter would not affect his sense of Derrida’s writing, and he makes clear that he has not read any of Derrida’s work himself and instead relied on Ellis’s book. Ellis’s analysis is deeply problematic, amounting to a massive misunderstanding of Derrida’s work, and it is unfortunate that it happened to be Wightman’s (only) source. In any event, neither Derrida’s statement itself, nor Wightman’s commentary on it can be seen, or (I assume) is offered, as meaningfully representing Derrida’s work or deconstruction.
One might, as I said, be hesitant to criticize Wightman too much, since his comments were presented in a humorous context–as a joke, a parody, a spoof–at a “post-banquet talk” and were made in this spirit (I am, again, willing to give Wightman the benefit of the doubt), without professing any knowledge of or serious judgments upon Derrida and deconstruction. His charming remarks can, however, have harmful consequences as well. Physicists who were present and many more who will have read the book where these remarks are published may well form a “serious” opinion about Derrida, deconstruction, contemporary French philosophy, literary criticism, and so forth on the basis of these remarks, especially in conjunction with other recent events. The “tone” alone, without explicit qualifications, may not be enough to diminish these harmful effects. The reference to Ellis’s book as the only scholarly source and, it appears, the only authority on the subject, is especially unfortunate here, even if one were to leave aside (which is not possible in all rigor) its title, “against deconstruction.” That said, however, one must take into account the context of the occasion–a courtesy not extended to Derrida by most scientists in recent discussions. For, if this type of treatment of Derrida’s or others’ text may be (seen as) permissible or, at least, excusable in the context of Wightman’s talk, the context of other recent commentaries is a different matter. Their extraordinary harm would not be diminished, even if such critics had Wightman’s charm–or his wit and style–which most of them do not. At least they do not display them in their encounters with deconstruction, postmodernism, and so forth, although some among these encounters are not without comedy. As Derrida commented on a different occasion, “this is also extremely funny.” He added, however: “The fact that this is also extremely funny doesn’t detract from the seriousness of the symptom.10
Harm and Harm
Among the many accusations and complaints made in Gross and Levitt’s Higher Superstition, those against Derrida and his “idle” usage of modern science take center stage. This is of some interest, given their actual account of Derrida’s engagement with mathematics and science, factually restricted to two isolated instances. One is the Hyppolite-Derrida exchange, and the other an egregious misstatement of Derrida. On that reading, and on that type of “reading”–restricted to crude attempts to “catch” direct references to scientific terms without even minimally considering Derrida’s text–Derrida’s engagement with science would have to be seen as negligible, although Gross and Levitt claim it, without any textual support, to be extensive. A reading in which the relationship between Derrida’s work and science would become meaningful is definitionally unavailable to the strategies and attitudes of Gross and Levitt’s book. They do not even comment in any meaningful way on Derrida’s usage of Gödel’s theorem, arguably the most explicit and the most famous reference of that type in Derrida. They only speak of its general abuse by postmodernists (78). They do comment with relish, however, on two references (three, if one counts a sneer at Derrida’s comments on algebra in the Hyppolite-Derrida exchange [265, n.10]). First is the remark on relativity, cited not altogether accurately and, it appears, from a secondary source (265, n.10), but famous ever since:
A further sense of Derrida's eagerness to claim familiarity with deep scientific matters can be obtained from the following quotation, which also gives one some sense of how seriously to take such claims: "The Einsteinian constant is not a constant, [is] not a center. It is the very concept of variability--it is, finally, the concept of the game. In other words, it is not the concept of some[thing]--of a center starting from which an observer could master the field--but the very concept of the game." The "Einsteinian constant" is, of course, c, the speed of light in vacuo, roughly 300 million meters per second. Physicists, we can say with confidence, are not likely to be impressed by such verbiage, and are hardly apt to revise their thinking about the constancy of c. Rather, it is more probable that they will develop a certain disdain for scholars, however eminent, who talk this way, and a corresponding disdain for other scholars who propose to take such stuff seriously. Fortunately for Derrida, few scientists trouble to read him, while those academics who do are, for the most part, so poorly versed in science that they have a hard time telling the real thing from the sheer bluff. (79; corrections mine)
Since I will discuss Derrida’s comment on relativity below, I shall only say here that nothing can be further from the truth than the assertion of that Derrida is eager “to claim familiarity with deep scientific matters.” As we have seen, the contrary is in fact true. In truth, all of Gross and Levitt’s assertions about Derrida are quite simply not true. Much else may be said about their “representation” of Derrida in their book. But it is above all not true. “Mais ce n’est surtout pas vrai.” Gross and Levitt are, obviously, not among those “fewscientists [who] trouble to read” Derrida. Why, then, go to such extraordinary trouble to comment on his work at such length? Some answers, I am afraid, are all too obvious here. One cannot also help smiling at the naivete of their warning to scholars in the humanities of the impending danger of disdain on the part the scientific community. For the moment, however, I would like to consider Gross and Levitt’s second main example of Derrida’s “idle” use or abuse of science. They write:
This [Derrida's remark on relativity] is not, we assure the reader, an isolated case. In various other Derridean writings there are to be found, for example, portentous references to mathematical terms such as "differential topology," used without definition and without any contextual justification. Clearly, the intention is to assure readers who recognize vaguely that the language derives from contemporary science that Derrida is very much at home with its mysteries. (79)
Once again, none of these assertions is true. Indeed, their claims notwithstanding, no other examples of such “portentous references” are given.11As I said, understanding the relationships between Derrida’s work and mathematics and science requires a very different type of reading. Certainly, at least some familiarity with his work would be necessary in any event, as opposed to the monumental ignorance of Gross and Levitt’s book. Using scientific terms “without definition and without any contextual justification,” however, is something to which one can respond seriously. It is of course also the kind of charge that I am making against the usages of Derrida by some scientists, including, naturally, Gross and Levitt. Let us see, then.
Gross and Levitt make much of their observation in a long footnote:
We cannot resist the impulse to point out that in Derrida's usage the word topology seems to be virtually synonymous with topography--at least the index regards them as identical. This recollects an experience of one of us (N.L.) at the age of eighteen. When being interviewed by an insurance executive for a summer actuarial job he was asked: "What kind of mathematics are you interested in?" "Topology," he replied. "Well, we don't have too much interest in topography," said the insurance man. Obviously a deconstructionist avant la lettre.
Defenders of deconstruction and other poststructuralist critical modalities will no doubt wish to point out that topos (pl.: topoi) is a recognized term within literary theory for a rhetorical or narrative theme, figure, gesture, or archetype, and that therefore it is permissible, without asking leave of the mathematical community, to deploy topology to designate the analysis of textual topoi. One's suspicions are reignited, however, when the term differential topology suddenly appears. (In mathematics, differential topology is used to denote the study of the topological aspects of objects called "differential (or smooth) manifolds," which are, roughly speaking, higher-dimensional analogies of surfaces in three-dimensional space [)]. (265-66, n. 11)
I leave aside the stale topology vs. topography joke and the inappropriate and unproductive tone of this footnote. It is more difficult to leave aside the fact that The Acts of Literature consists of translations of Derrida’s various writings on literature, which were edited, and the index compiled, by someone else. Moreover, the references in the index have clearly not been checked by Gross and Levitt. The statement that “in Derrida’s usage the word topology seems to be virtually synonymous with topography–at least the index regards them as identical,” is, at best, a bizarre non-sequitur. The references in the index–“topology (atopology, topography, topoi)” (The Acts of Literature, 455)–indicate that these terms are related or used in similar contexts, rather than that they are identical. Following Gross and Levitt’s logic, “topology” and “atopology” would be seen as identical too. In the text all these terms refer to a general sense of “topos” as spatiality, which, as even Gross and Levitt admit, need not entail a reference to topology as a mathematical discipline. Gross and Levitt have obviously not read the volume, nor do they appear to have checked the index against the text. Indeed it is difficult to say what they have read when they found “differential topology.” Here is Derrida’s statement itself, from his essay on Kafka, “Before the Law” [Devant la Loi]:
This differential topology [topique différantielle] adjourns, guardian after guardian, within the polarity of high and low, far and near (fort/da), now and later. The same topology without its own place, the same atopology [atopique], the same madness defers the law as the nothing that forbids itself and the neuter that annuls oppositions. (The Acts of Literature, 208-9)
Obviously, one needs to know both Kafka’s and Derrida’s texts to make sense of this passage, even if Derrida’s had in fact appealed to differential topology here. One can easily see, however, that Derrida says differantial [différantielle]–and not differential [différentielle]–topology. That is, he speaks of “topology” relating to his famous neologism or rather neographism “différance,” rather than to differential topology. This difference is of course not audible in the spoken French. It can only be made apparent in a written text. This was one of the reasons why Derrida introduced his neographism. In this sense Gross and Levitt’s mistake is deeply ironic. When Derrida uses topography a bit earlier in the same essay on Kafka, it refers to an “inscription” (in Derrida’s sense) of the “space” or/as “non-space” of the law in Kafka. This is why the editors list topography in the index. There is, of course, no simple identity of topology and atopology here, but only the concept of différantial topology as atopology–a topology without its own place–which may be a complex concept but entails no claim on Derrida’s part concerning mathematical differential topology. In fact, Derrida does not even say topology here, although he sometimes uses terms “topology” and “topological” elsewhere, including on other occasions in The Acts of Literature. It is true that the English translation says topology here–obviously (it should be clear by now) in the general, rather than mathematical, sense. However, the French provided in parenthesis, for that very reason, says “topique différantielle“–a differantial space or place, a certain topos or atopos, or atopos-ness. The French for differential topology is, of course, “topologie différentielle.” Given that his field is topology and that the French is provided here, it is inexplicable that Levitt (a topologist) did not pay attention to or did not bother to check this point–especially since his aim was to attack Derrida’s misuse of scientific terms.
We recall that Gross and Levitt accuse Derrida of “using” the term differential topology “without definition and without any contextual justification.” The description appears to be far more appropriate as a characterization of their own treatment of Derrida’s work and, it can be similarly shown, of their treatment of the work of quite a number of others whom they criticize in their book. In general, scholarly problems of monumental proportions are, to use the language of topology, found in the immediate vicinity of just about every point of Higher Superstition. It is not so much embarrassing errors, even as egregious as that of the misreading of “topique differantielle” as differential topology, that are most crucial (we all make mistakes, sometimes absurd mistakes), but the intellectually and scholarly inadmissible practices and attitudes that pervade–and define–this sadly irresponsible book. Gross and Levitt’s warning concerning “threats to the essential grace and comity of scholarship and the academic life” (ix) becomes, in one of many bizarre ironies of the book, its self-description. To be sure–we must acknowledge this–some of the “postmodernist” work on science is indeed bad. There is, however, always some bad work in any field, including mathematics and science. The comedy of the book is that it says the worst things about some of the best work and accepts and sometimes praises–and draws on–some of the worst. The tragedy is that so many scientists, including some among the best scientists, have taken it seriously and accepted its arguments, and even adopted its unacceptable attitudes.12
The significance of reading Derrida and others “without definition and without any contextual justification” extends well beyond the protocols of intellectual and scholarly exchange. Following these protocols is essential. As I have stressed from the outset, nothing in Derrida’s theory or practice, more specifically deconstructive or other, contradicts them–and much reinforces them. Derrida himself and other “dangerous deconstructionists” are more scrupulous and more classical–and, one might even say, more scientific–than most of their critics. Even more significant, however, is that once one provides the proper “definition” and “contextual justification” for Derrida’s terms–or those of other authors discussed in recent debates–there begins to emerge a very different sense of both these texts themselves and their relationships to mathematics and science.
“The Einsteinian Constant”
To (re)cite Derrida’s comment one more time:
The Einsteinian constant is not a constant, is not a center. It is the very concept of variability--it is, finally, the concept of the game [jeu]. In other words, it is not the concept of something--of a center starting from which an observer could master the field--but the very concept of the game which, after all, I was trying to elaborate.
I begin by observing that the final clause of Derrida’s last sentence “which, after all, I was trying to elaborate [in the lecture]” is omitted by most if not all commentators involved. This clause, however, is crucial because it indicates that the term “game” or “play” (in this context a better translation of the French “jeu,” which carries both meanings) has a very specific meaning here. This meaning, I shall argue, is consistent with the philosophical content of relativity, which, in brief, is the core point of the Hyppolite-Derrida exchange on the subject. In other words, conceptually, relativity entails a certain decentered play in Derrida’s sense of the term. The concept of play is central to Derrida’s essay “Structure, Sign, and Play in the Discourse of the Human Sciences,” an oral presentation of which at a conference at Johns Hopkins in 1966 occasioned the exchange.13 Understanding how Derrida uses the term “play” in his essay and understanding what Hyppolite and Derrida mean by “the Einsteinian constant” are, therefore, both essential for a meaningful reading of Derrida’s statement. Most scientists who commented in print on this statement have not carefully considered this concept, at best they barely mentioned it.14
The accuracy of quotations from Derrida and others by their critics in the scientific community, such as Sokal or Gross and Levitt, has been stressed by many scientists involved in the debates at issue, and they are right to do so. As we have seen, not all of these quotations proved to be as accurate as these scientists believed. However, even assuming that such quotations are accurate, their literal accuracy is meaningless if the reader is not provided with the meanings of the terms involved (such as “play/game” or “the Einsteinian constant”), is deprived of the possibility of establishing them from the quotation itself, or is free to construe them on the basis of other sources–say, one’s general knowledge of physics, as opposed to the meaning given to these terms by Derrida’s essay or by Hyppolite’s question. Thus, what would be the meaning of one’s accurate quotation when “the Einsteinian constant” is made to be the gravitational constant as it figures in general relativity (as suggested by Sokal’s hoax) or the famous c, the speed of light in a vacuum (as Gross and Levitt claim), if, as I shall suggest, Hyppolite meant something else by it?15 Indeed, if Derrida’s statement is given without any further explanation of the terms of his essay, one can hardly be surprised at a reaction such as Steven Weinberg’s “I have no idea what this is intended to mean” (“Sokal’s Hoax,” 11), or any number of similarly dismissive responses that we have encountered recently (leaving aside for the moment “responses” of the kind one finds in Gross and Levitt’s book, unacceptable under all conditions). A different picture emerges only if one considers carefully Derrida’s and Hyppolite’s statements themselves and their context, especially Derrida’s work itself. Derrida’s statement, however, has been commented upon without any consideration of its textual and circumstantial context, and without even minimal attention to the meaning of its terms–even, sadly, by scholars and scientists of extraordinary achievement, such as Weinberg, a Nobel Prize laureate, at least in his New York Review of Books article “Sokal’s Hoax.”
In his contribution to the exchange on his article, Weinberg, to his credit, acknowledges that he did not initially pay much attention to the meaning of Derrida’s key terms and gives some consideration to the context of Derrida’s statement, specifically to Hyppolite’s remarks. He says in particular that in his initial reaction to Derrida’s comment in “Sokal’s Hoax,” he “was bothered not so much by the obscurity of Derrida’s terms ‘center’ and ‘game.’ I was willing to suppose that these were terms of art, defined elsewhere by Derrida” (“Steven Weinberg Replies,” 56). In his subsequent reply to his critics in “Steven Weinberg Replies,” Weinberg says: “What bothered me was his phrase ‘the Einsteinian constant,’ which I have never met in my work as a physicist” (56). He proceeds, first, to suggest a possible meaning for the phrase and then to offer some comments on Derrida’s essay and the Hyppolite-Derrida exchange. He does not, however, consider Hyppolite’s own description of the [Einsteinian] “constant.” Nor does he offer a substantive commentary on or interpretation of the concept of play, which is, again, decisive here. Weinberg’s quotation from Derrida’s essay on the term “center” is hardly adequate to explain Derrida’s idea of decentering and play, and it is not surprising that this quotation was “not much help” to him (56). The passage that Weinberg cites occurs in the introductory portion of the essay, as part of the discussion of the joint historical functioning of the concepts of “structure” and “center:” “Nevertheless, … structure–or rather, the structurality of structure–although it has always been involved, has always been neutralized or reduced, and this by a process of giving it a center or referring it to a point of presence, a fixed origin.” Derrida’s phrase, omitted by Weinberg, “up to the event which I wish to mark and to define [in “Structure, Sign, Play”], indicates that Derrida is making primarily an introductory historical point here. His concept of decentered play emerges later in the essay, although a few sentences following the one cited by Weinberg may already give one a better sense of Derrida’s ideas concerning “structure,” “center,” and “play”:
The function of this center was not only to orient, balance, and organize the structure--one cannot in fact conceive of unorganized structure--but above all to make sure that the organizing principle of the structure would limit what we might call the play of the structure. By orienting and organizing the coherence of the system, the center of a structure permits the play of its elements inside the total form. And even today the notion of structure lacking any center represents the unthinkable itself. (Writing and Difference, 278-79)
In short, those unfamiliar with Derrida’s ideas would need a more extensive reading of Derrida’s essay and a more comprehensive explication of its terms, and more patience and caution may be necessary before one is ready to agree, or disagree, with Weinberg’s conclusion: “It seemed to me Derrida in context is even worse than Derrida out of context” (“Steven Weinberg Replies,” 56). The contexts and concepts at issue, however, may well not be sufficiently familiar to most scientists for them to be able to offer the kind of reading of Derrida’s statement that is suggested here. Nor should they be expected to be familiar with these ideas and contexts, or have any obligation to engage them in any way. It is not a question of blaming Weinberg, a great physicist and (which not irrelevant here) one of the most open to radical and innovative theories in physics itself, or most other scientists involved. One might regret a certain lack of intellectual curiosity on the part of those scientists or their unwillingness to consult the experts on Derrida, or indeed–Why not?–Derrida himself, something that, in more general terms, Weinberg appears to endorse as well (“Sokal’s Hoax,” 14). Reciprocally, scientists can be exceptionally helpful to scholars in the humanities, and they have been throughout intellectual history, in clarifying both science itself and philosophical concepts emerging in science. This is why I describe the present situation as sad rather than in terms of blame.
Hyppolite’s and Derrida’s critics in the scientific community not only cite their comments out of context but virtually disregard the minimal relevant norms of intellectual and, especially, scholarly exchange. Derrida’s statement appears in the transcript of an improvised response to Hyppolite’s question following an oral presentation of his essay. The essay does not mention relativity and the statement itself makes no substantive scientific claims. Relativity and “the [Einsteinian] constant” are brought in by Hyppolite, not Derrida, who responds to Hyppolite extemporaneously, in the context of his just-delivered paper. Given these circumstances, a responsible commentator–scholar, scientist, journalist, or other–unfamiliar with Derrida would be hesitant to judge Derrida’s statement without undertaking a further investigation of his work, beginning with “Structure, Sign and Play.” The conclusions may of course be different from those reached by the present analysis, but no conclusion would be ethically, intellectually, or scholarly responsible short of such an investigation.
There is nothing exceptional in the circumstances themselves. Such complexities of improvisation, transcription, translation, and interpretation often arise at conferences, and the circumstances that lead to them remain significant when such exchanges are subsequently reproduced in conference volumes, as is the case here and as is made clear by the editors of the volume (Languages of Criticism, xi-xiii). It is true that such statements are sometimes edited by the authors before publication and technically require their permission to be reproduced. Such is not always the case, however, and it is doubtful that it was done here, indeed it is virtually certain that it was not. Hyppolite, however, died before the volume at issue went into production and did not even have a chance to edit his own contribution, let alone his exchange with Derrida. However, in spite and sometimes because of the interpretive problems that they pose, such statements and exchanges are significant, historically and conceptually. My argument, therefore, is that the circumstances of these statements must be given special consideration in interpreting and evaluating them, rather than serving as a reason for dismissing them, as some have argued in the case of the Hyppolite-Derrida exchange.
Some (very few) scientists, such as Weinberg, as considered earlier, have admitted, grudgingly, that the circumstances of Derrida’s remark may require additional consideration. Such admissions in themselves are hardly sufficient, however. First of all, they are far “too little, too late”–after two years of relentless abuse, beginning with Gross and Levitt’s book. Secondly, more distressingly, they do not appear to signal much change in the overall hostile and unprofessional–and, one might indeed say, unscientific–attitude towards the work of Derrida and other figures on the part of the scientists involved (although there begin to appear some more encouraging signs here and there). Finally, most significantly, they are accompanied neither by meaningful (re)readings of Derrida’s statement itself (still considered as, at best, inept) nor by meaningful (re)considerations of the relationships between his ideas and the philosophical content of modern science. These relationships give Derrida’s and Hyppolite’s statements their meaning and significance in spite of their improvised character. It is with these relationships in mind that I now turn to Hyppolite’s remark, introducing the famous “constant.” Hyppolite said, according to the transcript of the exchange:
With Einstein, for example, we see the end of a kind of privilege of empiric evidence. And in that connection we see a constant appears, a constant which is a combination of space-time, which does not belong to any of the experimenters who live the experience, but which, in a way, dominates the whole construct; and this notion of the constant--is this the center [i.e. would it be, according to Derrida's argument]? (Languages of Criticism, 266, emphasis added.)
Hyppolite’s first sentence is somewhat obscure, which, again, is not surprising given the improvised and tentative, probing nature of his comments. It can, however, be read as compatible with special relativity, in particular the idea that the distinction between space and time depends on the observer. Certain statements, which would have objective (universal) “empirical” value according to classical physics–say, as concerns a sequence of two given events (A before B)–can no longer be seen as valid universally but instead as depending on a specific reference frame, since the sequence can be reversed if seen from the perspective of another frame (in which B will precede A).16
More important here is the question of “the Einsteinian constant” itself, although it is related to the preceding consideration, as Hyppolite says. Hyppolite does not actually use the phrase “the Einsteinian constant,” which is introduced by Derrida. It thus clearly refers to Hyppolite’s remark, rather than to any accepted scientific term, and is, in this sense, a local contextual reference. As used by Hyppolite, the “constant” here may not mean–and does not appear to mean–a numerical constant, as virtually all the physicists who commented on it appear to assume. Instead it appears to mean the Einsteinian (or Einsteinian-Minkowskian) concept of space-time itself, since Hyppolite speaks of “a constant which is a combination of space-time” (emphasis added), or the so-called spatio-temporal interval, invariant (“constant”) under Lorentz transformations of special relativity. This interval is also both “a combination of space-time” and something that “does not belong to any of the experimenters who live the experience,” and can be seen as “dominat[ing] the whole construct” (i.e. the conceptual framework of relativity in this Minkowskian formulation). Indeed, it is possible that Hyppolite has in mind this latter (more elegant) interpretation, while Derrida understood the “constant” as referring to the Einsteinian concept of space-time itself. This difference is ultimately not that crucial, since both these notions are correlative (and both are correlative to the constancy of the speed of light c in a vacuum and its independence of the state of motion of the source) and both reflect key features–decentering, variability, play (in Derrida’s sense), and so forth–at stake in Hyppolite’s and Derrida’s statements. In any event, given the text, these interpretations are more plausible than seeing the phrase as referring to a numerical constant.
This alternative interpretation is not definitive, and no definitive interpretation may be possible, given the status of the text as considered earlier. At the same time, interpretations of these statements are possible and may be necessary–for many reasons, for example, the interpretations that occasion this article. For these statements have been interpreted without any consideration of these complexities or any serious attempt to make sense of them. It is more productive, however, to take these complexities into account, to sort them out to the degree possible, and to give these statements the most sensible rather than the most senseless interpretation.
In view of those aspects of Hyppolite’s and Derrida’s meanings that can be established with more certainty from broader contexts (such as that of Derrida’s essay), the above interpretation(s) of the Einsteinian constant are both possible and plausible, or at least allowable by their statements. The moment one accepts this interpretation, Derrida’s statement begins to sound quite a bit less strange. It acquires an even greater congruence with relativity once one understands the term “play/game” as connoting, in this context (it is a more radical and richer concept overall), the impossibility within Einstein’s framework of space-time of a uniquely privileged frame of reference–a center from which an observer could master the field (i.e. the whole of space-time). Even if my reading of “the Einsteinian constant” is tentative, the meaning I suggest for Derrida’s term “play” [jeu] is easily supportable on the basis of his essay and related works. So is, it follows, the understanding of this concept as congruent with (I do not say equivalent to) certain philosophical ideas and implications of relativity, and it may be in part indebted to these ideas, however indirectly.
One might, then, see Derrida’s statement reflecting the fact that, in contrast to classical–Newtonian–physics, the space-time of special, and even more so of general, relativity disallows a Newtonian universal background with its (separate) absolute space and absolute time, or a uniquely privileged frame of reference for physical events. The Einsteinian or Einsteinian-Minkowskian concept of space-time may be seen as correlative to the assumption that the speed of light is independent of the state of motion of either the source or the observer, and, in this sense, these “two Einsteinian constants” may be seen as conceptually equivalent.17 The “constancy” or, better, invariance, in special relativity, of the so-called spatio-temporal interval under Lorentz transformations arises from the same considerations and was introduced in this form by Minkowski, and eventually led him to the concept of space-time. (I bypass the explanation of these, more technical, terms themselves, since this is not essential for my main point–the decentered structure of the space-time of relativity.) As I said, I find it plausible that Hyppolite had in mind precisely this concept. The Einsteinian (concept of) space-time, however, can be more immediately linked to Derrida’s concepts of decentering, variability, and play, and this is why, as I suggested earlier, it is possible that Derrida and Hyppolite have two different “constants” in mind here. Both “constants,” however, or c, derive from the same theory, Einstein’s (special) relativity, and this theory entails a certain general philosophical conceptuality, such as that of “play” in Derrida’s sense. Derrida sometimes speaks, via Nietzsche and Heidegger, of “the play of the world” itself, as opposed to play in the world. He posits a certain irreducible variability of the world itself and/as our construction of it, as opposed to the concept of the world as a (“flat”) background of events given once and for all, such as Newton’s absolute space in classical physics. From this perspective, “the Einsteinian constant,” understood as the concept of Einsteinian space-time, could indeed be seen, at least metaphorically, as “the very concept of variability” and, at the limit, as the concept of play/game [jeu] developed by Derrida.18
One might, thus, see Hyppolite’s and Derrida’s remarks as relating to certain standard philosophical features of Einstein’s relativity–presented, admittedly, in a nonstandard idiom, especially for physicists. At the very least, these remarks can be read as consistent or, again, congruent with the philosophical ideas and implications of relativity, as they have been elaborated in the scientific and philosophical literature on the subject. What Hyppolite suggests is that part of the conceptual content of Einstein’s relativity with its space-time may serve as a kind of model for the Derridean concept of decentered play and related ideas. This suggestion is neither surprising nor especially difficult for anyone who has read Derrida’s essay and has some knowledge of certain key ideas of relativity. Derrida responds more or less positively, but suggests that one needs a more decentered view of “the Einsteinian constant”–which is to say of the physical world according to Einstein’s relativity or, as will be seen, of scientific theories themselves–than Hyppolite appears (to Derrida) to suggest. This may well be more or less as far as one can go with reasonable certainty regarding what Hyppolite and Derrida could mean. The remainder of the reading offered here is an exploration of certain possibilities and implications of these connections between relativity and Derrida’s ideas. Not much else might be possible under the circumstances of the exchange. However, at least as much as investigation as was undertaken here may be necessary in order to produce a reading of it like that suggested here–a reading connecting, historically and conceptually, Derrida’s work and the philosophical implications of Einstein’s relativity. As I have stressed throughout, these are philosophical questions, rather than questions of physics, that are at stake, and both Hyppolite’s and Derrida’s remarks must be read and evaluated accordingly.
Such philosophical questions and implications are significant, however, and their significance is in no way diminished by the circumstances of the exchange, such as the improvised nature of these remarks. This exchange reflects concepts, including those of Hyppolite and Derrida, which are anything but improvised–quite the contrary; these concepts, such as “play,” are thought through in Derrida in the most rigorous way. Even more significantly, they reflect and (at least in part) derive from the philosophical questions arising in modern science itself. This is in part why in introducing his question Hyppolite says that “we have a great deal to learn from modern science” (Languages of Criticism, 266). This is also why I would be hesitant to treat these remarks as merely “casual,” “offhand,” and so forth, and dismiss them on these grounds. As I have indicated, the latter argument was advanced by some in defending Derrida against recent criticism on the part of the scientific community, and even have been to a degree accepted by some critics as well. This, however, is a weak defense, and at stake in my argument here is not a defence of Derrida. The question may well be whether Derrida’s or other contemporary philosophical thought, however rigorous and radical, is yet rigorous and radical enough for what it is at stake at the philosophical limits of relativity (especially general relativity) or elsewhere in modern physics, in particular in quantum theory. Throughout its history, physics has been an extraordinarily fertile ground for questioning our philosophical assumptions. This is in part why Nietzsche said: “Und darum: Hoch die Physik! Und höher noch das, was uns zu ihr zwingt,–unsre Redlichkeit!” [And this is why: long live physics! And even more so that which forces us to turn to it–our integrity]19 If there is a rigorous, meaningful, and productive criticism to be offered here–for example, based on physics–it should be offered. We have not, however, seen such criticism in recent exchanges. The very question of how casual such “casual” remarks are, or can be, would have to be reconsidered from this perspective. Some of the most significant ideas in science and philosophy alike were introduced by way of “casual” remarks, footnotes, and so forth. As Derrida says, “it is always better, and its is always more scientific, to read” (Points…, 414; emphasis added).
Hyppolite invokes next still more radical conceptual possibilities suggested by modern science, referring, first, implicitly (at least, it can be read in this way) to quantum physics and then, overtly, to biology. These references, their connections to Derrida’s ideas, and Derrida’s response to them require a separate discussion, as does the remainder of the exchange, which raises questions concerning the relationships between (post)structuralism and the philosophical aspects of mathematics (in particular algebra or, more accurately, “algebraization”) and science. Some of these questions have an interesting history in the context of “structuralist controversy” (and of course a still longer history, extending to/from Greek and Babylonian mathematics). Michel Serres even argues that we might need to rethink structuralism from the perspective of its connections to twentieth-century mathematics, specifically the Bourbaki project.20 André Weil, one of the great mathematicians of this century and a founding member of the Bourbaki group (and the brother of Simone Weil), wrote an appendix to Lévi-Strauss’s The Elementary Structures of Kinship.21 Both Derrida and Hyppolite (or Serres) must have been aware of Weil’s article and might have been familiar with it. Derrida’s “Structure, Sign, and Play” is, we recall, primarily an analysis and a deconstruction of Claude Lévi-Strauss and structuralism.22 The essay does not consider this mathematical or, again, mathematico-philosophical problematic and its relationships with structuralism. However, it can hardly be simply disconnected from them, and some of these connections emerge more explicitly in other essays in Writing and Difference and elsewhere in Derrida (especially in his earlier work). At the very least, Derrida’s philosophical ideas can be meaningfully engaged in exploring these relationships, as Hyppolite indeed suggests.
There are further nuances concerning relativity as well, especially those relating to the difference between the centering of “the whole [theoretical] construct”–that is, as I read it, the overall conceptual framework of relativity–around the concept of space-time and the centering of the space-time of special or general relativity itself.23 Concentrating here on “the Einsteinian constant,” Derrida does not appear to address the first question as such (or conceivably, and, again, under the circumstances understandably, conflates both questions). It may well be, however, that he intimates a negative answer here as well. For from the Derridean perspective it would be difficult, perhaps impossible, to claim any central or unique concept–the “constant”–defining the Einsteinian framework. It is, therefore, possible that Derrida has this point in mind. Invariance or stability of a conceptual center of a theoretical structure, such as relativity, is, of course, quite different from invariance of a physical constant. One might suggest, however, that in the case of the Hyppolite-Derrida exchange a certain concept of decentering defining the space and time of relativity coincides with the idea of decentering of the overall conceptual structure of the theory itself. No concept belonging to the latter, not even that of the decentered space-time, may be seen as an absolute center of relativity theory–a center invariant under all theoretical and historical transformations of this theory. That is, such conceptual centering may change from one version of relativity to another (this centering is relative in this sense), and some forms of relativity may be constructed as conceptually decentered in themselves. Indeed, there have been considerable debates among historians of science as to the relative centrality of key experimental facts and theoretical ideas of special relativity, either as originally introduced by Einstein or in its subsequent, such as Minkowskian, forms. All these nuances would have to be considered in order to make a full-fledged argument of the type suggested here, as against unscholarly recent treatments of Derrida and Hyppolite which are unacceptable regardless of potential problems one might have with their comments on relativity or their ideas in general.
The possibility of such an argument should not be surprising. Neither Hyppolite nor Derrida claims to have expertise in physics itself. However, leaving aside their general erudition, both have been the readers and (especially Hyppolite) colleagues of such world-famous philosophers and scholars of science as Alexandre Koyré, Gaston Bachelard, and others, and of a number of major mathematicians and scientists. These authors, including mathematicians and scientists, commented extensively on philosophical issues in and implications of relativity, and are cited by many experts in the history and philosophy of science. Many discussions of the Leibniz-Clarke debate in philosophical literature, known to Hyppolite (or Derrida), consider Einstein’s relativity, both specific and general theory, as a culmination or at least a crucial point in the history opened by this debate. Moreover, as the director of the École Normale, the center of French philosophy, mathematics and science, which he headed for ten years (1954-63), Hyppolite had access to the most sophisticated scientific and philosophical information on the subject. He was previously a chair at the Sorbonne and a professor at the Collège de France thereafter, where he also had ample opportunities to discuss modern mathematics and science, in which he had considerable interest throughout his life. It is worth mentioning in this context that Hyppolite was granted admission to the École Normale on the basis of his ability in philosophy and mathematics. Derrida, too, spent years of his career at the École Normale, first as a student (of, among others, Hyppolite) and then as a professor, and had similar access to key ideas of modern mathematics and science in general. It cannot therefore be surprising that both Hyppolite and Derrida would know enough about relativity to make philosophically sensible or even suggestive remarks about it. Moreover, there are considerable independent philosophical affinities between relativity and Derrida’s ideas–that is, if these affinities are indeed independent given the intellectual history just indicated.
One could argue that the connections between Derrida’s work and relativity are not restricted to those indicated so far and involve deeper epistemological questions, crucial to the continuing debate concerning the philosophical interpretation and implications of relativity. Conversely, one can question how productive a Derridean framework could be as an approach to (the philosophy of) relativity. Whichever way one’s argument may proceed here, however, it must be conducted very differently from reading Derrida’s statement in a deliberately distorted or parody-like manner, as in Sokal’s hoax; or from offering “criticism” of it that is clearly uninformed, as in Gross and Levitt’s book; or from other non-treatments of it on both sides of the recent “science wars.” Such an argument would also be different from what one finds in Sokal’s article in Lingua Franca (disclosing his hoax) and his other “serious” commentaries on the subject: a manifest philosophical naivete and ignorance of philosophical literature, including that on relativity and quantum physics, let alone of the work of Derrida and other figures on whom he comments (which latter ignorance Sokal indeed acknowledges).24 The question is not whether Derrida’s comments on relativity or other areas of mathematics and science, or his work in general should be criticized, but at what level of intellectual engagement, knowledge, and scholarship such criticism of Derrida and others should take place.
Scholars in the humanities should, of course, exercise due caution as to the claims they make about mathematics and science, and respect the areas of their specificity. Reciprocally, however, scientists and other non-humanist scholars should exercise due care and similar caution in their characterization of the humanities, especially when they are dealing with innovative and complex work, such as that of Derrida, and all the more so if they want to be critical about it. Derrida would be willing and indeed eager to accept any open-minded criticism of his comment on relativity or his ideas about science in general, especially by scientists. So far, however, no such criticism–not even a dismissal that can be taken seriously–has been offered, at least not yet. In order for this to happen, reading, in Maurice Blanchot’s words, must become a serious task for all of us, scientists and nonscientists alike. On another occasion (in conjunction with the controversy surrounding his honorary degree from Cambridge), Derrida offered the following comment on the negative sentiments of certain scientists towards his work, expressed, it appears, without reading it:
I would be content here with a classical answer, the most faithful to what I respect the most in the university: it is better, and it is always more scientific, to read and to make a pronouncement on what has been read and understood. The most competent scientists and those most committed to research, inventors and discoverers, are in general, on the contrary, very sensitive to history and to processes which modify the frontiers and established norms of their own discipline, in this way prompting them to ask other questions, other types of question. I have never seen scientists reject in advance what seemed to come from other areas of research or inquiry, other disciplines, even if that encouraged them to modify their grounds and to question the fundamental axioms of their discipline. I could quote here the numerous testimonies of scientists in the most diverse disciplines which flatly contradict what the scientists you mention [in conjunction with the Cambridge incident] are saying. (Points..., 414)
One can find many such testimonies in the works of Einstein, Bohr, Heisenberg, and other founding figures of modern physics, or in the works of many major mathematicians and scientists in other fields. A more serious engagement with Derrida’s and other recent philosophical work on the part of scientists is possible, too, and we might yet see it. Then, perhaps, we will also have a better understanding of why “the Einsteinian constant is not a constant, is not a center,” why “it is the very concept of variability,” and why “it is, finally, the concept of the game”– or, if that is the case, why it is none of the above.
Notes
1. The Languages of Criticism and the Sciences of Man: The Structuralist Controversy, eds. Richard Macksey and Eugenio Donato (Baltimore and London: Johns Hopkins UP, 1970), 267.
2. Paul R. Gross and Norman Levitt, Higher Superstition: The Academic Left and its Quarrels with Science (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins UP, 1994); Alan D. Sokal, “Transgressing the Boundaries–Towards a Transformative Hermeneutics of Quantum Gravity,” Social Text (Spring/Summer, 1996), 217-252. The continuing proliferation of subsequent commentaries and discussions on and around, as it became known, “Sokal’s hoax” is staggering, even leaving the innumerable exchanges on the Internet aside. No end is unfortunately in sight. Derrida’s comment figures most prominently and, again, nearly uniquely throughout these discussions. In particular, it was discussed in Steven Weinberg, “Sokal’s Hoax,” New York Review of Books (August 8, 1996), 11-15, and “Sokal’s Hoax: An Exchange” New York Review of Books (October 3, 1996), 54-56.
3. His very first book was a translation of and an introduction to Husserl’s essay “The Origin of Geometry.” Beyond a number of substantive commentaries throughout his works, one can especially mention here as yet unpublished seminar “La vie la mort,” concerned in Derrida’s own words, “with ‘modern’ problematic of biology, genetics, epistemology, or the history of life sciences (reading of Jacob, Canguilhem, etc.)” (The Post Card, tr. Alan Bass [Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1987], 259, n.1).
4. See his remarks in Florian Rötzer, Conversations with French Philosophers, tr. Gary E. Aylesworth (Atlantic Highlands, N. J.: Humanities Press, 1995), 5.
5. See, again, Conversations with French Philosophers, 5.
6. On these issues in a more general context, see Derrida’s analysis in “Limited Inc a b c …” and, especially, “Afterword: Toward an Ethic of Discussion,” in Limited Inc (Evanston, IL.: Northwestern UP, 1988). Of course, as Derrida’s analysis, including in Dissemination, exhaustively demonstrates, it is not possible to control (the dissemination of) the meaning of Derrida’s statements, such as those under discussion here, any more than of any other statement. The overall case here considered offers a powerful, if distressing, illustration of this point. Nor is it possible to claim that any given reading (for example, the one offered here) is definitive. That does not mean, however, that one should not read with utmost care, rigor and respect the context under which a given statement is made, or that one cannot argue about such readings, or that one can simply disregard traditional norms of interpretation or scholarship– quite the contrary. This view is fully in accord with both deconstructive theory and deconstructive practice, at least the best theory and the best practice of deconstruction, such as those of Derrida himself, quite in contrast with many of his readers, such as those discussed here. Derrida’s readings and those of other responsible practitioners of deconstruction scrupulously follow such classical protocols. Deconstruction does argue that such protocols, even if scrupulously adhered to, cannot guarantee determinate results. The present case is an obvious example of this situation, too. Deconstruction would aim to explain what happens here and why, and Derrida and others offer many deep and subtle explanations of such cases. But this is quite different from endorsing these kinds of practices.
7. Coherent States: Past, Present, and Future, eds. D. H. Feng, J. R. Klauder, and M. R. Strayer (Singapore: World Scientific, 1994).
8. Jacques Derrida, La dissémination (Paris: Seuil, 1972), 235; Dissemination, tr. Barbara Johnson (Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1981), 207.
9. John Ellis, Against Deconstruction (Princeton, NJ.: Princeton UP, 1989), 6; Barbara Johnson, “Nothing Fails Like Success,” SCE Reports 8 (Fall 1980):9.
10. Jacques Derrida, Points… (Stanford, Ca.: Stanford UP, 1995), 404.
11. Had it taken place, an “abuse” or misrepresentation of differential topology would, of course, be unfortunate. It is an extraordinary discipline, a grand achievement of the human mind. The contribution of the French mathematicians to the founding and development of this field was extraordinary, from such founding figures as Henri Poincaré to the extraordinary contributions, throughout the first half of this century, of such figures as Elie Cartan, Jean Leray, Henri Cartan, Jean-Pierre Serre, René Thom, and many others, and then by their younger followers up to the present. I happen to have studied differential topology at the University of Leningrad with Vladimir Rokhlin and Mikhail Gromov. Mathematicians would know these names and those of other figures just mentioned, and it is a pity that non-mathematicians do not know them (a subject that would require a separate consideration). I mention these French names (mathematicians from other countries also made major contributions to the field) because key developments to which they contributed took place when Hyppolite, a key figure for my discussion, was first a student (at the École Normale) and then a professor at the Sorbonne, the École Normal, and the Collège de France, where many of these figures were Hyppolite’s fellow students and then colleagues. Derrida was a student at the École Normal (where he studied with Hyppolite) around the time of major breakthroughs in the field, which were widely discussed in the intellectual community to which he, Hyppolite, and other major philosophical figures mentioned here belonged. This community also included major historians and philosophers of science. I shall further consider the significance of these facts later. The point I want to make here is that the irresponsible attitude on Derrida’s part imagined or fantasized (with no basis whatsoever) by Gross and Levitt is inconceivable for anyone even remotely familiar with the intellectual environment just indicated and with Hyppolite’s and Derrida’s work and attitudes.
12. Given the egregious nature of some of its mistakes, it is surprising that they were not discussed by reviewers immediately upon the publication of the book. It is also unfortunate, since it could diminish some harm done by the book. Some of them should, of course, have been noticed before the book was published, assuming that it should have been published, to begin with, given its flaws, which are unredeemable regardless of the problems one might have with the authors discussed in the book. Nor has it (or Sokal’s hoax) much value in terms of provoking debate, as some have contended. There are better ways to engender debates–and better debates. By now some of these problems have by been pointed out by some reviewers and commentators. Even Sokal acknowledges, in his more recent commentaries, that Gross and Levitt’s book contains “errors,” including as concerns their “topology” quotation from Derrida and the circumstances of his comment on relativity. While this article was being considered for publication, an extensive survey of such problems has been published by Roger Hart in “The Flight from Reason: Higher Superstition and the Refutation of Science Studies,” Science Wars, ed. Andrew Ross (Durham, NC.: Duke UP, 1996), 259-92. As I shall discuss, these recognitions do not change the situation much. In contrast to my argument here, in most cases both critics and even defenders (such as Hart) of Derrida still think that Derrida’s (or Hyppolite’s) comments should at best be discounted (at worst they are seen as inept or senseless), rather than understood in the context of the relationships between philosophy and science. The very critique of Gross and Levitt’s book often amounts to “yes, they got a few (or even not so few) things wrong, but …”–not the kind of change of attitude that is, I think, necessary here.
13. Both the essay and the discussion are in The Languages of Criticism and the Sciences of Man: The Structuralist Controversy. The essay is also included in Derrida’s Writing and Difference, trans. Alan Bass (Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1978).
14. This point of the necessity of understanding both terms is clearly brought into the foreground by Steven Weinberg in “Steven Weinberg Replies” (The New York Review of Books, October 3, 1996, 56), where Weinberg also qualifies his original remarks on Derrida somewhat (without changing his view) and comments on the context of Derrida’s statement in response to the letters published in “Sokal’s Hoax: An Exchange.” As will be seen, however, these qualifications are hardly sufficient to change my argument here. I also leave aside for the moment the problem of translation, even though it is significant. Thus, the translation of Derrida’s essay published in the conference volume has several problems, and one is better off reading the version published in Writing and Difference. In particular, the version in the conference volume translates Derrida’s jeu as “freeplay”–which may lead to a misunderstanding of Derrida’s idea of play. Translation is a crucial concern in considering the circumstantial context of the statements at issue. This context may make any claim concerning these statements, including any claim to be offered here, irreducibly tentative. On the circumstances themselves, see The Languages of Criticism, xi-xiii.
15. The very disagreement between Sokal’s and Gross and Levitt’s interpretations suggests that a more careful reading may be necessary. Of course, Sokal’s article, being a hoax, cannot be considered as offering a meaningful interpretation of anything, and it can be shown that it misrepresents (deliberately or not) virtually all the significant ideas that it invokes, certainly Derrida’s. Sokal’s interpretation of Derrida’s remark makes no sense whatsoever given Hyppolite’s question and Derrida’s essay. It is strange that several scientists appear to have accepted this interpretation on the basis of a hoax–an admitted hoax–especially since, as Weinberg points out, this is not a standard term in physics. This makes him, too, (in this case more understandably) puzzle about the phrase and suggest the meaning of the phrase as, again, referring to a numerical constant, that of Newton’s constant figuring in Einstein’s theory (“Steven Weinberg Replies,” 56). He does not appear to attribute this meaning to Derrida, which indeed would not make any sense. Yet another reading proposed by some scientists, that of the so-called cosmological constant appearing in certain versions of relativistic cosmology, makes even less sense, historically or conceptually. Such a constant was indeed introduced by Einstein in his early cosmological investigations, but was quickly abandoned by him. (He even spoke of its introduction as the greatest scientific mistake of his life.) It was resurrected by recent cosmological theories and has had considerable prominence in recent discussions. It would, however, be very unlikely for it to be invoked at the time of the Hyppolite-Derrida exchange in 1966. Nor does it appear to make much sense as Hyppolite’s reference, given what he says here, or given Derrida’s discussion in “Structure, Sign, and Play” itself.
16. I am grateful to Joshua Socolar, from the Physics Department at Duke, for his suggestions in clarifying this particular point and for productive discussions in general. It must be kept in mind that, in Niels Bohr’s formulation, “the space-time coordination of different observers never implies reversal of what may be termed the causal sequence of events” (The Philosophical Writings of Niels Bohr, 3 vols. (Woodbridge, Conn.: Ox Bow Press, 1987) 3:2. More generally, in contrast to quantum physics, Einstein’s relativity remains a causal and otherwise classical physical theory, at least special relativity (since all these questions–causality, reality, and so forth–become more complex in the case of Einstein’s general relativity, his theory of gravitation). This point is intimated by Hyppolite in his remarks, when he invokes a more radical dislocation of classical thinking emerging in modern science (Languages of Criticism, 266).
17. According to Einstein’s original paper on relativity “Zur Elektrodynamik bewegter Körper” [On the Electrodynamics of Moving Bodies],” one may firmly conjecture the following on the basis of the available experimental evidence: “[T]he same laws of electrodynamics and optics will be valid for all frames of reference for which the equations of mechanics hold good. We will raise this conjecture (the purport of which will thereafter be called the “Principle of Relativity”) to the status of a postulate, and also introduce another postulate, which is only apparently irreconcilable with the former, namely that the light is always propagated in empty space with a definite speed c which is independent of the state of motion of the emitting body” (Einstein: A Centenary Volume, ed. E. P. French [Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard UP, 1979], 281-82). Einstein’s “reconciliation” of these two apparently irreconcilable postulates within the framework of special relativity was his great achievement.
18. This link would be even more pronounced in general relativity, which connects gravitation to the geometry, here non-Euclidean (Riemannian) geometry, of space-time. In this case, the Lorentz invariance can no longer be maintained globally but only locally, correlatively to the fact that in general relativity space can be seen as flat–Euclidean or, more accurately, Lorentzian–only locally. Globally space is curved. The variability and “the play of the world” (in the present sense) is, however, not only retained but is enhanced as a result. Deleuze’s interest in Riemannian geometry (in turn much maligned but little understood by his critics in the scientific community) is motivated by similar considerations of decentering variability.
19. Friedrich Nietzsche, Sämtliche Werke: Kritische Studienausgabe, eds. Giorgio Colli and Mazzino Montinari (Munich: Deutscher Taschenbuch Verlag; Berlin and New York: Walter de Gruyter, 1988) 3: 564; The Gay Science, trans. Walter Kaufmann (New York: Vintage, 1974), 256 (translation modified).
20. Michel Serres and Bruno Latour, Conversations on Science, Culture, and Time, trans. Roxanne Lapidus (Ann Arbor, Mich.: U of Michigan P, 1995), 35.
21. Claude Lévi-Strauss, The Elementary Structures of Kinship, trans. Hames H. Bell, John R. von Sturmer, and Rodney Needham (Boston, Beacon Press, 1969), 221-27. I am grateful to David Reed, from the Mathematics Department at Duke, for reminding me about this fact and for most helpful discussions.
22. I here use this, by now complicated, term “deconstruction” in a more limited and more rigorous sense of the analytical practice of Derrida’s own (mostly earlier) work, such as “Structure, Sign, and Play.” This is not the place to consider the “continuities” and “discontinuities” in Derrida’s work over last thirty years, nor the differences in the ways this work is received on different sides of the Atlantic. These factors are relevant to recent debates, but they would not affect my argument here.
23. Differences of that type–those between the centering of a given theoretical framework, say, around a given concept, and the centering of the structure(s) constructed or investigated within this framework–appear to be on Hyppolite’s mind from the outset of and throughout his remarks, beginning with his invocation of algebra.
24. Alan D. Sokal, “A Physicist Experiments with Cultural Studies,” Lingua Franca (May/June 1996), 62-64. My limits here do not permit me to discuss relevant specific portions of these works, which one might consider appropriate, given my strong criticism here. While I would stand by my assessments of the particular authors just mentioned, the reader is invited to read my elaboration as a general appeal to a more serious engagement, however critical it may be, with the work of Derrida and other contemporary thinkers that may be invoked here.
