Westfold argues that Derrida is some kind of a natural law theorist. We can ascertain this from the title of chapter 11, “Derrida As Natural Law Theorist.” Westfold draws a distinction between logical positivists and postmodernists, a distinction that he considers important. The logical positivists said of their own position that it destroyed all ethics as traditionally understood. This claim is also made about postmodernism, but it is made by their opponents (p. 219).
But Critchley wants to deny nihilism and see deconstruction as “an ethical demand” (p. 220), and Westfold clearly desires to make some kind of room for this. Whether this can be sustained is one question, but I do think Westfold demonstrates that Derrida would at least like to sustain it, however tenuously or wistfully or against-all-oddsly. He is not a robust nihilist, but rather a man with a really troubled conscience — for no particular reason.
But we have to make a distinction. The fact that atheism is nihilism does not mean that all atheists are nihilists (except in principle). The world is chock full of people who don’t like examining what their views actually entail. There is no reason exclude Derrida from possible membership on this list, and after reading this essay by Westphal, there are ample reasons for putting him on it.
Here is Derrida, responding to a question about his opposition to apartheid.
“The structure thus described supposes both that there are only contexts, that nothing exists outside context, as I have often said, but also that the limit of the frame or the border of the context always entails a clause of nonclosure. The outside penetrates and thus determines the inside”
He thundered. And all the people bowed down, and said “all that thou commandest us, we will do, and whithersoever thou sendest us, we will go.”
Here, let me try to help clear this up with a helpful paraphrase.
“The structure thus described supposes both that there are only contexts, that nothing exists outside context, as I have often said. Since nothing exists out there, this means that outside our context there is only infinite vacuum. But since our realm of contexts is finite and limited, the limit of the frame or the border of the context always entails a clause of nonclosure. This nonclosure means that the outside vacuum is the ever present context of all contexts. The outside penetrates and thus determines the inside. The outside vacuum penetrates the spaceship of finite contexts and sucks us all screaming out into the Void.”
This “outside,” incidentally, is called justice, and is not deconstructible. This does not prevent us from saying many
whoa-deep!-things about it, though.
“This is why, when Derrida says that ‘Deconstruction, while seeming not to ‘address’ the problem of justice, has done nothing but address it,’ he immediately adds, ‘if only obliquely . . . one cannot speak directly about justice, thematize or objectivize justice, say ‘this is just’ or even less ‘I am just,’ without immediately betraying justice, if not law (droit)’ (p. 223).
And if this argument against apartheid doesn’t convince you, then you are just not listening to the zephyrs and the nuances. Of course, you have to guard against letting it convince you
directly. You can only wonder things about apartheid
obliquely, and you must never say things like “
this is just,” or “
that is unjust,” you totalizing freak show, you.
We can see what a triumphant Derridean faith might look like.
“No eyes have had a vision of the glory of the Lord;
But he’s trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;
He hath loosed the fateful lightning of his decontructive sword;
His justice marches on.
Of course, Derrida does not speak of God as the source of justice . . .” (p. 226).
In other words, this is a good representation of what Derrida’s justice looks like, provided we take out words like glory, Lord, he’s, trampling, grapes of wrath, He, loosed, fateful lightning, sword, justice, and marches. If we had some ham, we could make a ham and cheese sandwich, if we had some cheese. And some bread.
Westphal says above that God is not the source of justice in Derrida. Certainly not. Me genoito. No way. The vacuum is the source of justice. And we can’t deconstruct it because it isn’t really there, as we discussed earlier. But still Derrida is wistful. Wouldn’t it be nice, as the Beach Boys might say . . .
“Just before he says, ‘Deconstruction is justice,’ he says, ‘Justice in itself, if such a thing exists, outside or beyond law, is not deconstructible” (p. 227).
If
such a thing exists, outside or beyond law, then his whole project is hosed. If it doesn’t exist, then he may continue to have his non-deconstructible (because non-existent) justice. And the world of our contexts can turn into one gigantic hell-hole with apartheid, wars, genocide, racism, rape, and holocausts everywhere. But the Vacuum, like Gallio, cares for none of these things.
