Lacan and Language
Jacques Lacan was a French psychoanalyst who from 1953 until
1980, in addition to his own clinical practice, gave regular seminars in Paris
to an audience sometimes amounting to 800, many of whom were distinguished
intellectuals in their own right.
Lacan’s influence over the last 20 years or so on nearly all humanities
disciplines cannot be doubted. His
influence has been especially marked in literary criticism, film theory, art
history and theory, continental philosophy and in some areas of social and political
thought. Several schools of
psychoanalysis have evolved out of his own, but
otherwise his relation to established psychoanalytic institutions is strained,
to say the least. His theory is by
his own account a development of systematic reading of Sigmund Freud’s own
works, and in fact his seminars, which are beginning to appear in
transcriptions, are always based around particular texts by Freud. But many other influences are apparent,
including surrealism, continental philosophy and structural linguistics, which
provides much of his vocabulary if not his theoretical base. He uses other sciences like biology,
optics, mathematics and physics more for their metaphorical resources rather than any
objective principles. This is an
important point: Lacan follows Freud in making use of analogies to explain
otherwise unexplainable things, so in this respect we can see that
psychoanalysis shares some similar characteristics with literature and art
generally. There is, for instance,
an insistence on the rhetorical dimension underlying human experience. Lacan’s writings provide the clearest
example of this aspect of psychoanalysis, so much so that, according to Lacan,
literature and psychoanalysis are merely two different types of discourse with
the same aims—that is, to expose the discursive dimension of knowledge,
power and social relations as the locus of determinations on emotional life.
The Unconscious is the Discourse of the Other
According to Lacan, the human subject is always split between a
conscious side, a mind that is accessible, and an unconscious side, a series of
drives and forces which remain inaccessible. The cost of human “knowledge” is that these drives must
remain unknown. What is most basic
to each human entity is what is most alien. This
(S) is the symbol that Lacan uses to figure the subject in its division.
We are what we are on the basis of something that we experience to be missing
from us—our understanding of the other—that is the other side of
the split out of which our unconscious must emerge. Because we experience this “something missing” as a lack we
desire to close it, to fill it in, to replace it with something. Lacan calls this lack desire. Desire is what cannot be satisfied even
when our demands are met. All our
needs are at once converted into desires that cannot be satisfactorily
fulfilled. This is why sexuality
cannot be considered as the result of a need. The unconscious manifests itself by the way it insists on
filling the “gap” that has been left by the very thing the subject feels is
lacking in him or her, that is the unconscious! (The unconscious attempts to fill in the gap caused by the
unconscious).
The Unconscious is structured like a Language
Lacan borrows some ideas of linguistics that Freud did not have
access to. As we have seen,
Saussure showed that a sign is not necessarily something that connects a word
or name to a thing, but is in fact something which connects a sound or image to
a concept. The sound or image is
called a signifier. The concept is
called a signified. Meaning is
produced not only by the relationship between the signifier and the signified
but also, crucially, by the position of the signifiers in relation to other
signifiers (in a given context).
When Saussure’s theory is put together with Freud’s it is not difficult
to see that the movement of signifiers, which generates meaning, must remain
fundamentally unconscious. Meaning
may only have a place in what Lacan calls “the signifying chain.” So the signifier has primacy over
the signified, which means that meaning is generated not by the normal meaning
of a word but by the place the word has in a signifying chain.
Metaphor and Metonymy
Metaphor:
substitutes a word for another word.
Metonymy:
involves a linear form of displacement.
These two axes of language—substitution and
displacement—correspond to the working of the unconscious. Metonymy, which carries language along
its syntagmatic axis, corresponds to the displacement of desire that characterizes the
dream work in Freud. Metaphor, on
the other hand, corresponds to the paradigmatic axis, the axis of substitution
and, therefore, corresponds to that aspect of condensation whereby different figures
can be substituted or are condensed into one through an overdetermined nodal
point.
Compare Freud’s distinction to Saussure’s formulation:
Signified Conscious
Lacan turns the formulation on its head:
Sr
Sd
Henceforth the unconscious, sexuality and fantasy can be
pictured as the Signifier over the signified. The unconscious is constituted in
the same way as our intrinsic ability to speak. Desire is left always unsatisfied and is either displaced
from signifier to signifier or it is substituted for—one signifier for
another—and the whole process makes up a “chain of signifiers,” which
remains unconscious but which, like the unconscious, leaves traces of itself,
traces which may be read.
Metonymy follows the horizontal line of signifiers, which never
cross the bar (of repression) that leads to the signified and to
signification. Just as desire is
always deferred from one object to the next, so the signifier suspends
signification while following the horizontal chain. Each signifier that fails to cross the bar has exactly the
same meaning. If signifies lack
(desire).
Metaphor is placed in a vertical relation. One signifier can substitute as the
signified for another signifier.
“Crossing the bar” is really the action of one signifier becoming
signified by taking the place reserved for the signified itself—the bar
allows the substitution of one signifier for another:
Sr S
Sd î Sr
Sexuality and Sexual Difference
One of the most controversial contributions of psychoanalysis
has been on the issue of sexuality and sexual difference. Most famously Freud introduced a new
definition of sexuality. We need
to first look at the more traditional one (which still has adherents today) and
then examine the nature of the Freudian definition. The terms on which sexuality is usually defined turn on the
relation between notions of normality and notions of perversity. Freud was at his most controversial
when he stated that he had discovered a form of sexuality present in
infants. At this stage the infant
expresses his or her sexuality polymorphously (taking many forms)—that
is, with no particular fixed object or aim, just a kind of indulgent
pleasure. The meaning of this
pleasure is then presented back to the adolescent in a kind of deferred action
in which primal fantasies are given a more fixed shape (helped along by the
notorious Oedipus
Complex) with a socially sanctioned object type and a useful aim in
reproduction.
Deferred Action
Nachtragtlichkeit describes the ways in which an infantile experience that is
either incomprehensible or traumatic is nonetheless somehow retained by memory
unconsciously and reactivated at a later time in a different context. The notion comes from an early stage in
Freud’s speculations and was used to explain the mechanism of hysteria, in
which a traumatic early experience is reactivated in terms of a less traumatic
later provocation. He sometimes
explains this with the mildly comic story of a young man infatuated with
women. “A young man who was a
great admirer of feminine beauty was talking once of the good-looking wet nurse
who had suckled him when he was a baby.
‘I’m sorry,’ he remarked, ‘that I didn’t make a better use of my
opportunity.’” (IoD 295). This is not, of course, an example of
deferred-action, but it does illustrate the notion by emphasising
an inability at the early stage to understand or to act at all on experiences,
which are retrospectively activated in later life. Freud’s commentators have found the notion more useful than
he evidently did, in so far as the rhetorical aspect has become much more
obvious. Signification involves
the constant reactivation of significant material in new and unpredictable
contexts, which thus produces new significance and new meanings.
Freud’s Three Essays on Sexuality can be a frustrating read, with its
delays and detours and often inconclusive observations. Perhaps because of this, however, it
remains one of the key books on sexuality and sexual difference both within and
outside the institution of psychoanalysis. There are two striking aspects to Freud’s work on
sexuality. The first involves his
use of the mainstream professional views of his time. He doesn’t simply critique these or oppose them and he
doesn’t even try to produce a convincing alternative vocabulary to talk about
these issues. So his quite stark
departure from mainstream knowledge is made within the terms and the frameworks
of that knowledge itself, which is why the standard oppositions like normal and
perverse, masculine and feminine, etc. remain part of the vocabulary. However the system governing the
meanings of that vocabulary is both subverted and transformed in Freud’s
text. The second aspect involves
his use of evidence in relation to the professional views. Basically he employs the same
hypothetical framework but transforms it through his rigorous and tenacious
insistence on the evidence—what happens to the theory when one confronts
it with these facts? The theory changes. Perversity, which was once a category for sexuality gone wrong, a
perversion of normal sexuality (like fetishism, same sex desire, bestiality,
even masturbation), becomes the general condition of all sexuality per se. Normal desire, on the contrary, which had an
extremely narrow definition supported (as it still is) by everyday common-sense
assumptions, is now understood as being one of the numerous contingent
possibilities of a general perversity.
Thus Freud appears to be saying extremely odd things in a rather
traditional language. In that
language, that framework, that vocabulary, however, Freud’s theories remain the
only ones that work.
Sexuality
Freud describes the psychoanalytic theory of sexuality in the
following way:
Psychoanalysis considers that a choice of
object independently of its sex—freedom to range equally over male and
female objects—as it is found in childhood, in primitive states of
society and early periods of history, is the original basis from which, as a
result of restriction in one direction or the other, both the normal and the
inverted types develop. Thus from
the point of view of psychoanalysis the exclusive sexual interest felt by men
for women is also a problem that needs elucidating and is not a self-evident
fact based on an attraction that is ultimately of a chemical nature. (Freud, 1915).
In other words, the normal assumption is that normal sexuality
involves an exclusive sexual interest felt by men for women. Both the implicit one way sign [men è women] and the exclusive nature of the interest are present in
the traditional notions. Of course
it is obvious that sexual interest ranges all over the place and that women
fancy other people as much as men do.
But for the traditional views these would have been problems. For Freud, that is no less true, but
for him the normal version (boxed above) is also a problem and has no clear
explanation. For him the evidence
shows that sexuality is grounded in a condition where there is no pre-existing
object and no defined aim. The
pleasure principle is unscrupulous.
Some rudimentary definitions of sexuality don’t much help. The standard definitions of sexuality grow out
of husbandry. Sexuality has the following related
meanings: the condition of being sexed; being male or female; having sexual
characteristics; feelings or desires to a specified degree (over-, under-,
etc.); the condition of having a sex.
Thus the sexuality of someone (their being one or other of the sexes)
gets extended to also signify behavioural
characteristics. You might begin
to expect certain types of behaviour from one or the other sex and you can
justly express shock or concern when people behave outside those norms. So what is a sex? The dictionary tells us that Sex is that by
which an animal or plant is male or female; the quality of being male or
female; either of the divisions according to this, or its members collectively;
the whole domain connected with this distinction. (In so far as I am sexed, my sex is male; I share this
quality with the whole of the male sex; but I share the quality of being sexed
with the entire human race as well as the animal and plant kingdoms). It seems that we are not going to get
very far without encountering some aspect of our universally shared sexual
difference. This is all very well
if you are mating chicks or growing violets. In that case the distinctions have a practical and
functional purpose. This is the
female and this is the male. Put
them together in these particular ways and they will produce. In so far as people reproduce in these
ways too, a kind of loose analogy emerges, conferring specific meaning upon
each relation that may or may not have a sexual aspect (in the biological
sense). The idea that biology is
at the root of human sexual relations, and thus explains human sexuality, is at
best grounded in the loosest of analogies. Psychoanalysis has played an important role in helping to
undo these narrow and ungrounded assumptions. Along the way it has revealed a tangle of problems.
Psychoanalysis, without departing from the traditional
vocabulary, develops an extended and transformed understanding of the concept
of sexuality. Before Freud,
sexuality was most likely to be defined as an instinct with a predetermined
object and aim. The object was a
member of the opposite sex. The
aim was for union of the genital organs in coitus. The sole function was considered to be reproduction. Any kind of sexuality or sexual
behaviour that does not aim for reproduction is considered to be perverse. Again the influence from cultivation
and husbandry is clear. What is
the good of a stud that won’t mount the mare? But psychoanalysis questions the
notion of perversity.
Freud takes one of the most influential and highly respected
authorities on the matter, Krafft-Ebing, as an example of the normative
explanation. This is Krafft-Ebing:
During the time of maturation of physical
processes in the reproductive glands, desire arise in the consciousness of the
individual, which have for their purpose the perpetuation of the species
(sexual instinct) [...] with opportunity for the natural satisfaction of the
sexual instinct, every expression of it that does not correspond with the
purpose of nature, i.e. propagation—must be regarded as perverse.
According to this view, nature somehow makes itself felt in the
consciousness of the mature adult, in the form of a conscious desire to mate
with a member of the opposite sex.
Nature, in this sense, is simply the need for the reproduction of the
race (that peculiarly nineteenth century notion of evolution is evident
here). The only “natural”
satisfaction of this itch, this desire, would be subordinated to the purposes
of nature. Anything that does not
obviously lead to reproduction is not natural (“it’s not natural!”), because it would be a
perversion of nature’s aim. As
usual with scientific views of this time, purpose itself, the Greek telos, is the
unanalysed aspect underlying these assumptions. Krafft-Ebing, it is important to
remember, is merely representing the popular views in scientific discourse.
Freud responds explicitly to these views at the beginning of his
“Three Essays on Sexuality”:
Popular opinion has quite definite ideas about
the nature and characteristics of this sexual instinct. It is generally understood to be
absent in childhood, to set in at the time of puberty in connection with the
process of coming to maturity and to be revealed in the manifestations of an
irresistible attraction exercised by one sex upon the other; while its aim is
presumed to be sexual union. [...]
We have every reason to believe, however, that these views give a very false
picture of the true situation. If
we look into them more closely we shall find that they contain a number of
errors, inaccuracies and hasty conclusions.
In the “Three Essays” Freud doesn’t substitute a new theory for
the old ones. Rather he extends
and transforms the popular and scientific notions of sexuality by correcting
the errors, clarifying the inaccuracies and rethinking the hasty conclusions
that make up what he calls the “false picture.” A new picture thus emerges out of the ruins of a now
transformed vocabulary.
The evidence against holding to the false picture is available
in everyday life. Freud also draws
explicitly from his fund of analytic experience, in many cases with distressed
men and women of the inherently conservative European bourgeoisie, who had
never been able to voice their discomfort about their own apparently perverse
desires. The distinction between normal and perverse is
so riddled with overlaps that it is impossible to extricate the two. There are numerous perversions and they
are common (though not explicitly talked about in Freud’s time). Not only are there numerous varieties
of different object but also there are uncountable and creative methods for
achieving satisfaction. On the
model of means
and ends,
the normal view holds that sexuality manifests in activities designed to
achieve the aim of reproduction.
The end
is reproduction; the method is union of the male and female genitals. However in Freud’s experiences with his
patients, the methods often overlap between the normal and perverse. In other words very similar kinds of
activities occur whether there is an obviously reproductive function or
not. Men and women will have “sex”
in all kinds of ways including “normal” coitus.
The ends are as various as the means. Furthermore, same sex relations, as well as masturbation and
the fantasies of all kinds that accompany it, each exhibit similar routes to
satisfaction, in terms for instance of flirting and foreplay. Even a comfortably heterosexual couple
will use a creative variety of methods, including coitus, to achieve satisfaction. So what is consistent in all this is
not the function of reproduction at all but the function of satisfaction. Thus the reproductive teleology has no
ground in evidence at all.
Evidence against Normativity
The distinction between the normal and the perverse is riddled
with overlaps.
A great diversity of
sexual “perversion” not only exists but is common.
This diversity involves
not only the choice of sexual object but also the type of activity used to
obtain satisfaction.
In the popular view, the
“normal” type of sexual activity involves only coitus between members of the
opposite sexes with the aim of reproduction.
But the “normal” and the
“perverse” are not so easily separated.
For instance, the usual
form of satisfaction may become temporarily impossible, so a “perverse”
satisfaction may replace it.
And the sort of foreplay
leading up to normal sexual behaviour is usually also found leading up to
perverse types as well.
Freud often found that repressed wishes and desires are of a
sexual kind and that the repressed wish in these cases is a perverse sexual
wish. He concluded that the
so-called normal types of behaviour belong with the forces of rational and
socially acceptable convention defensive of the desiring and creative
agency. In other words the
normative version of sexuality is socially rather than biologically determined. There is a biological difference
but—like all difference—it is meaningful only in terms of the
institutions that organise experience is specific
ways. And we are back in the
rhetorical dimension. The libido
is thus a kind of undetermined force that becomes bound by the various kinds of
restriction, paradigmatically the Oedipus Complex, that represent the
institutions of culture and society.
Oedipus
Freud was struck by the similarity between the myth of Oedipus
and his own discoveries of unconscious processes. The myth is most clearly dramatised
in the plays of Sophocles (who was a contemporary of Socrates). In Sophocles’ drama the unfolding of
the tragedy involves Oedipus’ gradual discovery of his own guilt. He discovers that he has in ignorance
killed his father and that the woman he loves and has married is none other
than his mother. As a consequence
of his discovery he blinds himself and exiles himself from his home. In fulfilling the oracle that
begins the story he fails to escape his predestined fate. This is Freud’s explanation: “It is the
fate of all of us, perhaps, to direct our first sexual impulse towards our
mother and our first hatred and our first murderous wish against our father” (IoD 364).
Freud argues that the power of this artwork lies in the ability of the
poet to force us into a transferred recognition of what he calls “our own inner
minds.” Those same impulses (to
patricide and incest with the mother) are still lurking yet “suppressed” within
all of us. Oedipus’ unconscious
guilt (which is literal—he is not at first conscious of his guilt) stands
figuratively for our own unconscious guilt. “Like Oedipus, we live in ignorance of these wishes,
repugnant to morality, which have been forced upon us by Nature, and after
their revelation we may all of us well seek to close our eyes to the scene of
our childhood” (IoD 365). This last sentence has many resonances. Freud points out in a footnote to a
later edition that it is this part of his theory that has provoked the most
embittered denials, fiercest opposition and the most amusing distortions (100
year later we are often led to suspect that this is still the case). Thus the blinding scene is a
metaphorical indication of the vicious resistance to the insights that
psychoanalysis offers. Freud also,
significantly, likens not the myth itself but the action of the play to the
processes of psychoanalysis. He
says that it “consists in nothing other than the processes of revealing, with
cunning delays and ever-mounting excitement—a process that can be likened
to the work of a psycho-analysis” (363).
It places Freud firmly within the canon of arguments about
false-consciousness (along with Plato, Descartes, Marx and Wittgenstein). But we need to ask, what is the
so-called “Nature” that the Oedipus myth actually represents (the truth behind
the false and blinded consciousness).
Freud’s use of he word Nature in fact already illustrates how he is replacing the
traditional biological ground of sexuality (the cultivation/husbandry ground)
with an alternative in the Oedipus complex.
The Phylogenetic Hypothesis
Freud returned many times to the question of innate disposition
and perhaps the most outrageous, yet most consistently held, version is the
hypothesis of phylogenesis, which follows a somewhat
Darwinian trend. Here, at its most
extreme, the argument suggest that in human pre-history a great tribal father was
actually killed by the jealous horde and that all of us are born with traces of
this pre-historical guilt carried through the genetic phylum (like hair-colour in the
chromosomes). One thing is
constant here. There is a
constitutional anxiety
(the Danish philosopher Soren Kierkegaarde
had in the previous century coined the phrase “anxiety over nothing”) that is
related unconsciously to a desire for the death of the father and a desire for
union with the mother.
Sexual Difference
It is Freud’s account of the Oedipus Complex
and its modes of resolution that really grounds the psychoanalytic theory of
sexual difference. As such the
theory is diagnostic only in so far as it attempts to lay bare the underlying
structures that lead to certain tendencies in the relations between
people. Unlike the traditional
notions there is no sense of what men and women should or should not be like,
how they should live in terms of their sexual differentiation. It attempts, instead to find out how
people come to be as they actually are in the first place.
In classical psychoanalysis the father represents a third term
which must break the imagined dyadic unit of mother and child. Until the “father” interrupts it, the
mother-child unit—a perfect self-contained dyad—is asocial. The father stands for social symbolisation.
In terms of this structure the distinction between men and women exists
but it only has meaning symbolically. Lacan provides the following witty
diagram, based upon the story of the two children, a boy and a girl, in a train
who, on arriving at a station see this sign:
The boy exclaims, “we are at Ladies.” The girl responds by saying, “no we’re
not, we’re at Gentlemen.” The two
doors indicate the ways in which boys and girls are given the choice of two
alternatives—each of which has intractable meaning in terms of the
other—as to where they each are in the social topography. The doors are themselves just
signifiers as are the different sexes.
Sex (male and female) is always subject to identifications, which tell
me who I am in terms of my gender.
In traditional terms sex would be the empirical dimension of sexuality and gender would be the transcendental structure or system that
gives us its meaning. As we have
already indicated, however, the distinction between the empirical and the
transcendental is already extremely problematic, so we are going to have to find
some way of dealing with the difference itself.
Lacan’s version of the triangulated Oedipus complex
(mother—child—father) combines Freud’s theory with structural
linguistics, developed as we have seen particularly from the theories of
Saussure, Levi-Strauss and Jakobson. The relationship between the child and mother is imagined in
the infant’s unconscious as something that was once self-contained and entirely
satisfying but has since been broken up.
The post-break-up (which is a psychoanalytic version of the fall from
grace, mankind now banished from its eternal Garden of Eden) is in fact the
child’s beginning. Its prehistory
is nothing but an imaginary desire.
In other words the child’s experience begins with a feeling of something
having been lost. The symbol of
this loss is like a third term that has come between the mother and the
child—the father who (in a literal version) comes home from work at the
end of an otherwise perfect day ordering his dinner and smelling of pipe smoke
and the intrusive outside. Lacan
calls this “third term” the symbolic because it “symbolises” all
relations. Freud had called this
third term “the father,” perhaps because of the specific nature of his own
upbringing, his dreams, and the dreams of most of his patients (who were mostly
bourgeois Europeans). But the
father is just a symbol too (anything can represent it). Symbolisation
works because we make imaginary identifications, which are based upon proximity
and immediate experience (the contiguous axis, or metonymy). What we imagine to be the case is always to be understood
symbolically and that makes it seem real (the paradigmatic axis, or metaphor). Symbolisation
thus acts as an introduction to the world that is at the same time an
introduction of lack. The introduction of a meaningful element
disrupts the perfect unity of the imaginary relation, which only has the sense
of a perfect unity by virtue of the meaningful element that excludes
perfection. The experience of lack
is therefore the very thing that gives us the sense that there was something to
lack in the first place—it gives meaning to my partial relations and
opens my experience to the other—which, of course, I cannot experience at
all. The real
in Lacan’s theory is a plenum. A plenum is
something complete in itself, so full that nothing need be added to it. However because experience is
determined by the relation between the symbolic and the imaginary (Lacan’s
complicated version of the transcendental and the empirical) the plenum is figured
only as an impossible outside. It
can therefore appear as a horrifying mysterious thing (enter the house of
horror) that sometimes threatens to break open the illusion (our social
reality) brought about by the symbolisation of our
imaginary desires.
Lacan was so taken by the similarities between Freud’s theory of
the unconscious and structural linguistics that he was able to come up with
some fairly systematic concordances.
At the risk of over-schematising (which Lacan
attempted to resist, though his theory encourages it) we might chart them in
the following way:
Symbolic |
Imaginary |
Real |
Father |
Mother |
All |
Paradigm |
Syntagm |
The
Impossible |
Metaphor |
Metonymy |
Literal
language |
Condensation |
Displacement |
Death |
Relation
to the Other |
Relation
to the object |
No
relation |
Under the Symbolic we find the system of differences between signifiers that
determines their meanings, which Lacan relates to the metaphorical dimension of
figurative language (this stands in for that and excludes it).
He felt that Freud’s explanation of the dream-work allied metaphor to
the process of condensation (which puts different images together under the
single sign of a metaphorical nodal point). Under the Imaginary we find proximal identifications that indicate the
relations of individual desire, which Lacan relates to the metonymic dimension
of figurative language (this stands in a proximal and inclusive relation to that). He felt that Freud’s explanation of the
dream work allied the movement of metonymy to the process of displacement
(which in a disguised way displaces from an object of immense intensity to an
object of relatively trivial significance). Metonymy tends to exclude the meaningful aspect of language
for the sake of being-next-to while metaphor privileges the meaningful aspect
of proximal signs by giving them meaning, thrusting signification underneath
them, under the symbolic “cut” of the bar between signifier and signified in
Saussure’s diagram of the sign.
S S
S æ S
Under The Real, in contradistinction to these runaway overdetermined
signs, lies the impossible experience of the plenum. The real stands for literal meaning (as opposed to literal
uses of meaning, which are always possible). In so far as no experience of the real is possible
(experience is the consequence of the interaction between imaginary
identifications and symbolic signification) it stands for the impossible. The ideal, beyond signification, which
stands in for the fact that there is no real relation, is the non-relational
possibility itself, or just death.
We can fairly clearly see, I think, that relations of any kind are only
possible through certain kinds of signification. In terms of desire, the proximal relation (I just want to
get next to you) blots out signified meaning in favour
of contiguous relation (pure chance in its extreme form, which is a little
disconcerting for those who are waiting for Mr
Right). This is perhaps best
experienced as a kind of jouissance (the French term denotes ecstatic enjoyment) or petit-mort (little death,
a colloquialism for orgasm). In
terms of the symbolic, relations are overdetermined by many permutations of
social identification, including gender, class, position, status etc. Anything like a real relation is of
course impossible, as is a pure symbolic or pure imaginary relation. Everything seems to appropriate bits of
everything else like a perpetually shifting system of parasites with no
non-parasitical host. Everything
to a certain extent depends upon something of its others.
As far as the Oedipal Triangle is concerned it is possible to
map a Lacanian triangle over a Freudian one, in the
following way:
FREUD (OEDIPUS) LACAN
(SOCIALISATION)
Lacan and the theoretical imagination
We should say something about Lacan’s style. In most people’s minds the difference
between literary text and theoretical text could not be more marked. Literary texts are full of images,
narratives, concrete situations, sometimes wildly imaginative sequences, or
they are formally structured pieces, like different types of poem. Theory is a dry discourse, with long,
technical sounding terms, full of abstract ideas, objective and perhaps coldly
scientific. It often seems
difficult if not downright perverse, to apply these coldly scientific systems
of ideas to the multifarious and rich fund of personal experience. Lacan’s style suggests that he is
concerned to enliven scientific discourse with the metaphorical fecundity of
literature. But, at the same time,
he seems to want to use the descriptive clarity of scientific formulations to
suggest, metaphorically, the otherwise indefinable and sometimes inexplicable
aspects of the ordinary common experiences. As the contemporary psychoanalyst Adam Phillips has written:
“Psychoanalysis began as a kind of virtuoso improvisation within the science of
medicine; and free association is itself ritualised
improvisation. With the invention
of psychoanalysis Freud glimpsed a daunting prospect: a profession of
improvisers. And in the ethos of
Freud and his followers, improvisation was closer to the inspiration of the
artists than to the discipline of scientists.” So we can already glimpse the point of psychoanalysis for
critical theory: a confluence of separate traditions—scientific and
artistic—produces something new—psychoanalytic theory.
Returning to Freud
“We are not following Freud, we are
accompanying him. The fact that an
idea occurs somewhere in Freud’s work doesn’t, for all that, guarantee that it
is being handled in the spirit of the Freudian researches. As for us, we are trying to conform to
the spirit, to the watchword, to the style of this research”
Freud is, on one level, replying to an ancient
prejudice—that which derives human experience from consciousness. For Freud, consciousness is an effect
of instinctual neurological or biological drives. The hypotheses of two principles of mental
functioning distinguishes between that of pleasure, which wants immediate
satisfaction, and that of reality, which puts off the satisfaction of desire for a more
appropriate and safer moment. We
are not, on this model, born rational and responsible, nor do we learn
rationality and responsibility—these are simply terms that describe the
instinct for survival in negotiation with the instinct for the reduction of
unpleasant impulses. Freud later
modified his hypothesis of two principles and reduced them both to a single,
rather frightening one, called the death instinct. For him what is typical of instincts is that they tend
towards an absolute reduction of all disturbing impulses (even pleasure aims
for this). On the one hand the death instinct aims for immediate cessation of
dangerous impulses yet, on the other hand, it tones this drive down as a
dangerous impulse itself. So in
the complex reality of social existence this death instinct can be understood
as both the law (the symbolic) and (imaginary) desire in a kind of
negotiation. The game that we now
know as Fort-Da, which was played by Freud’s grandson, exemplifies
the kind of strategies that the unconscious employs to contain the sense of
loss that operating in a social world imposes. The mother—as the sole source of comfort and sustenance,
leaves for work and is absent for very long periods of time. The infant plays a game with a cotton
reel on a string, shouting “Fort” (gone) when it is on the other side of the
cot’s curtains and “Da” (here) when he reels it
back. Symbolically the cotton reel
stands in as a substitute for the mother (oh the power of fantasy). And the reeling-in that the child
repeatedly practices stands for the imaginary control he has over a contingent
and arbitrary exterior. The
reality principle, of course, concerns the child’s ability to tolerate the
truth of the outside—oh no, the mother really is absent and this cotton
reel is just a cotton reel. The
process of mourning after the death of a loved one is very similar. It is this process that allows us to
now explore the increasingly influential work of Melanie Klein.