It seems that there is a question about the relationship between foucault
and silence, or more appropriately a question, which is in some way
necessary, about the relationship between silence and the pratice of
archaeology that has yet to be asked. In most of the examples given so
far silence has functioned as merely the trailing off of speech. It is
the point at which the subject loses power as the voice trails off, or
the point at which the subject gains power by retreating into a silence
which speaks with a timber that the voice alone could not muster. In
either case the opposition of words and silence form a tertiary effect of
the subjects being or true nature. That is, the expressiveness of
language, the modulations of the voice in either instance of presence or
abscence, form an index which ceaselessly refers back to the
imutable substance, the essential nature, the true being, which encapsulates
the subject in its totality. This, however, is a type of analysis that
seems to be at odds with foucault's approach.
There are several instance in foucault where silence is invoked as a
constituative element of the object which archaeology sets out to
examine. Unfortunatly I am in the midst of moving right now and my books
are in disarray so for now I can only offer a single instance but
once I get organized I can come up with some more if its of interest.
So, in the preface to _Madness and Civilization_ it says:
"In the serene world of mental illness, modern man no longer communicates
with the madman; on one hand, the man of reason delegates the physician to
madness, thereby authorizing a relation only through the abstract
universal of disease; on the other, the man of madness communicates with
society only by the intermediary of an equally abstract reason which is
order, physical and moral constraint, the anonymous pressure of the group,
the requirements of conformity. As for a common language, there is no
such thing; or rather, there is no such thing any longer; the constitution
of madness as mental illness, at the end of the eghteenth century, affords
the evidence of a broken dialogue, posits the seperation as already
effected, and thrusts into oblivion all those stammered, imperfect words
without fixed syntax in which the exchange between madness and reason was
made. The language of psychiatry, which is a monologue of reason about
madness, has been established only on the basis of such a silence.
I have not tried to write the history of that language, but rather
the archaeology of that silence."
Here it would be a mistake to say that Foucault is trying to speak for
the mad, trying to redress an historical greivance by articualting the
other half of the broken dialogue. Here the silence does speak in a
certain form but not in the manner that the monolgue of psychiatry
speaks. The psychiatric monolugue constitutes its object (the mad)
according to a set of rules for speaking which, through their
articulation, invoke the proper form of the subject (the sane). What we
don't have here is a simple exclusion of the form: The mad are excluded from
society, relegated to silence, _because_ they are not sane. Rather, the
silence of madness forms the limit condition by which the the monologue
of psychiatry is drawn into itself as a cohesive rule set.
Rather than being a void, a trailing off of speech, or an abscence whose
very presence constitutes a weightyness, silence forms the line between
speech and bable, chaos and form, thought and the unthinkable. The
existence of this line is not in doubt, after all the implication of the
monologue is that psychiatry has relied on it as a ground of enunciation
throughout its history, but rather than being an condition attributable to
a specific subject foucault approaches it which is in some way
determinative of subjectivity.
Flannon
and silence, or more appropriately a question, which is in some way
necessary, about the relationship between silence and the pratice of
archaeology that has yet to be asked. In most of the examples given so
far silence has functioned as merely the trailing off of speech. It is
the point at which the subject loses power as the voice trails off, or
the point at which the subject gains power by retreating into a silence
which speaks with a timber that the voice alone could not muster. In
either case the opposition of words and silence form a tertiary effect of
the subjects being or true nature. That is, the expressiveness of
language, the modulations of the voice in either instance of presence or
abscence, form an index which ceaselessly refers back to the
imutable substance, the essential nature, the true being, which encapsulates
the subject in its totality. This, however, is a type of analysis that
seems to be at odds with foucault's approach.
There are several instance in foucault where silence is invoked as a
constituative element of the object which archaeology sets out to
examine. Unfortunatly I am in the midst of moving right now and my books
are in disarray so for now I can only offer a single instance but
once I get organized I can come up with some more if its of interest.
So, in the preface to _Madness and Civilization_ it says:
"In the serene world of mental illness, modern man no longer communicates
with the madman; on one hand, the man of reason delegates the physician to
madness, thereby authorizing a relation only through the abstract
universal of disease; on the other, the man of madness communicates with
society only by the intermediary of an equally abstract reason which is
order, physical and moral constraint, the anonymous pressure of the group,
the requirements of conformity. As for a common language, there is no
such thing; or rather, there is no such thing any longer; the constitution
of madness as mental illness, at the end of the eghteenth century, affords
the evidence of a broken dialogue, posits the seperation as already
effected, and thrusts into oblivion all those stammered, imperfect words
without fixed syntax in which the exchange between madness and reason was
made. The language of psychiatry, which is a monologue of reason about
madness, has been established only on the basis of such a silence.
I have not tried to write the history of that language, but rather
the archaeology of that silence."
Here it would be a mistake to say that Foucault is trying to speak for
the mad, trying to redress an historical greivance by articualting the
other half of the broken dialogue. Here the silence does speak in a
certain form but not in the manner that the monolgue of psychiatry
speaks. The psychiatric monolugue constitutes its object (the mad)
according to a set of rules for speaking which, through their
articulation, invoke the proper form of the subject (the sane). What we
don't have here is a simple exclusion of the form: The mad are excluded from
society, relegated to silence, _because_ they are not sane. Rather, the
silence of madness forms the limit condition by which the the monologue
of psychiatry is drawn into itself as a cohesive rule set.
Rather than being a void, a trailing off of speech, or an abscence whose
very presence constitutes a weightyness, silence forms the line between
speech and bable, chaos and form, thought and the unthinkable. The
existence of this line is not in doubt, after all the implication of the
monologue is that psychiatry has relied on it as a ground of enunciation
throughout its history, but rather than being an condition attributable to
a specific subject foucault approaches it which is in some way
determinative of subjectivity.
Flannon