The Evolution of Modern Metaphysics: Making Sense of Things (127 page)

every sign … can be
cited
, put between quotation marks; thereby it can break with every given context, and engender infinitely new contexts in an absolutely nonsaturable fashion…. This citationality, … this iterability of the mark is not an accident or an anomaly, but is that (normal/abnormal) without which a mark could no longer even have a so-called ‘normal’ functioning. (‘
Sec
’, pp. 320–321, emphasis in original)
⁷¹

There are indefinitely many things that can be done with words in accord with their meanings then. So we should not be surprised if there are relatively undemanding criteria for what it is to have sense whereby some uses of words, though they count as lacking sense, are still straightforward examples of what can be done with the words in accord with their meanings. Think, for instance, of an ungrammatical string of words such as ‘hunger eat bread’, whose use, in a poem say, might, in virtue of the words’ meanings, conjure up all sorts of images and have all sorts of associations and thereby convey all sorts of ideas. (Cf. ‘
Sec
’, p. 319.) Indeed
any
criteria for what it is to have sense will allow for this (i.e. for the possibility of uses of words that lack sense even though they are in straightforward accord with the words’ meanings), provided only that the criteria are not so undemanding that each
use of a word that works its meaning to some effect
ipso facto
counts as having sense.
⁷²

Why then, provided that there is such a thing as non-propositional sense, should there not also be a creative if unorthodox use of language which, given the meanings of the words in play, succeeds in conveying such sense? That is, why should there not be a use of language, perhaps involving language-games in what might antecedently have been thought of as unsuitable contexts, perhaps involving neologisms, perhaps involving contradictions, perhaps involving nonsense, whose effect, because of the meanings of the words in play, is, if only as a matter of brute psychological fact, that those who encounter it, or some of those who encounter it, come to achieve a corresponding non-propositional understanding of things? And if such a use of language is indeed possible, then who is to say that much of Derrida’s work, including his work on
différance
, cannot be viewed as a case in point?
⁷³

(I close this section by raising an incidental point of comparison with the later Wittgenstein. If this suggestion about Derrida’s work is correct, then it
looks
as though he is doing something radically un-Wittgensteinian, namely deliberately taking words ‘on holiday’ (Wittgenstein (
1967a
), Pt I, §38). There can be no doubt that there is much here to distance Derrida from Wittgenstein, including, at times, a kind of revelling in confusion (e.g. ‘
Différance
’, pp. 19 and 22–23). Let us not forget, however, that Wittgenstein too would have been happy to sanction our taking words on holiday, even our generating confusion, if it served some suitable purpose; for example, if it took us from a piece of disguised nonsense to a piece of patent nonsense, and thereby enabled us to recognize the former for what it was (see Wittgenstein (
1967a
), Pt I, §464). In fact the most significant difference between the two thinkers, in this regard, may be as much temperamental as it is doctrinal. Derrida, in true deconstructive spirit, is proactive. He is prepared to make play with concepts in order to promote new forms of understanding, or just to see what comes of it. Wittgenstein, the conservative, is reactive. He
countenances a playful use of concepts (at least by philosophers) only as and when this serves as a corrective to a damaging misuse of them.)

7. Whither Metaphysics?

I argued in §§2 and 3 of the Introduction that there is no disputing the possibility of metaphysics, on my definition of metaphysics. Derrida’s deconstruction of traditional metaphysics, whatever else it may achieve, therefore does nothing, and can do nothing, to suggest that such an enterprise is illusory. Nevertheless it is perhaps here, more than anywhere else in this enquiry, that we confront real questions about whether such an enterprise is worthwhile. For one thing, there are questions about what sort of generality is attainable in our sense-making and how well it is liable to satisfy our metaphysical aspirations. There is one sort of generality in our sense-making that is certainly not attainable, on Derrida’s view. We cannot make the kind of sense of things that is so impervious to the vicissitudes of individual circumstances that it demands, or even just invites, expression in language that is intelligible independently of context; not if the demand or invitation is to be understood in such a way that it can be met. For on Derrida’s view no language is intelligible independently of context.

Derrida himself at any rate shows little enthusiasm for trying to make maximally general sense of things (not even when he is discussing such heady matters as the difference between Being and beings)
except
insofar as this subserves his own meta-metaphysical aspirations. Like many of our protagonists, he earns his place in this drama because of the implications that his views have
about
metaphysics rather than
within
metaphysics. But unlike any of the others, this is because he maintains a kind of ironic detachment from the ground-level exercise, which he is concerned, if not to escape, or to deprecate, or even to criticize, then certainly to question. ‘Although I am professionally a philosopher,’ he remarks at one point, ‘everything I do is
something else
than philosophy. No doubt it is
about
philosophy, but it is not simply “philosophical” through and through’ (‘Moore’, p. 83, emphasis in original).
⁷⁴
Again:

I have attempted more and more systematically to find … a non-philosophical site, from which to question philosophy. But the search for a non-philosophical site does not bespeak an anti-philosophical attitude. My central question is: how can philosophy as such appear to itself as other than itself, so that it can interrogate and reflect upon itself in an original manner. (‘Interview’, p. 98; cf. ‘Violence and Metaphysics’, pp. 79ff.)

I think he would say something similar with respect to metaphysics (on my conception of metaphysics).
⁷⁵

Now, suppose we accept the value and significance of Derridean questioning. Suppose, in particular, we accept its value and significance when targeted at the value and significance of metaphysics. Are we then bound to conclude that metaphysics is of no value and of no significance? Clearly not. (To think that we are would not be to take seriously the status of Derridean questioning as
questioning
.) Very well, suppose we do not. That is, suppose we hold fast to the view that metaphysics is both valuable and significant. The issue then is what specific lessons we can learn from Derrida about the prospects for metaphysics – be his own engagement in the enterprise as it may.

One of the most important lessons, I suggest, is the one that I heralded in the opening section of this chapter: that we do well to think of metaphysics, not just as an attempt to make sense of things, but as an attempt, more specifically, to make non-propositional sense of things; and that we
can
so think of it without surrendering the view that the best medium for conveying whatever sense is thereby made is language. This lesson is by no means unique to Derrida. It has been passed on in different ways by many of our protagonists, however unintentionally (sometimes, indeed, in spite of them
⁷⁶
). Derrida does however reinforce the lesson. He does not reinforce it explicitly. In fact he reinforces it as much through example as through doctrine: that is precisely what I have been trying to show in the last few sections of this chapter. But given his own discussions of
différance
, and given his own reflections on meaning – the former of which help to show what is possible in this arena, the latter of which help to account for its possibility – he engenders a lively appreciation of how a suitably artful use of language can serve to convey non-propositional insights. In his own playful way he ushers metaphysics along in a non-naturalistic direction.
⁷⁷

Appendix: The Distinction Between Using an Expression and Mentioning It

I have suggested elsewhere (Moore (
1997a
), Chs 7 and 9
⁷⁸
) that any metaphysician who is squeamish about indulging in such artful use of language, and who thinks that it is his or her business soberly to affirm truths, can always resort to talking
about
such use of language and whatever it serves to
convey.
⁷⁹
But in the context of what we saw Derrida argue in §6, this suggestion is immediately problematical. The distinction in question, between actually engaging in this kind of linguistic abnormality and talking, in a perfectly normal way, about it, is just the kind of distinction that Derrida challenges.

There is a more general distinction at stake here, a distinction that many analytic philosophers would regard as a basic tool of their trade. This is the distinction between ‘using’ an expression and ‘mentioning’ it.
⁸⁰
A fairly standard way of characterizing this distinction would be in the following, broadly semantic terms:

The Distinction Between Using an Expression and Mentioning It
: Using an expression involves putting it to service in a way that exploits whatever meaning it has, in order to draw attention to some aspect of reality. Mentioning an expression involves putting it to service in a way that waives whatever meaning it has, in order to draw attention to the expression itself. Among the various means of mentioning an expression, one of the commonest, and one of the clearest, is to put the expression between quotation marks. An expression that is mentioned may lack sense, without this impugning whatever is said in the course of mentioning it. Thus we can say, truly, that ‘green is or’ consists of three words. Indeed we can say, truly, that ‘green is or’ is gibberish. (Mentioning gibberish does not entail talking gibberish.)

Derrida, as we have seen, recoils from much of this. In particular, he recoils from the idea that putting an expression between quotation marks is fundamentally different from, or even secondary to, doing what an advocate of this distinction would count as using the expression.

But actually, I too recoil from much of this. That is to say, I recoil from much of the thinking behind this broadly semantic characterization of the distinction in question. It does not follow, however, that there is no such distinction to be drawn. (This is a point on which I think Derrida would agree.
⁸¹
) We can oppose this way of characterizing the distinction without opposing the distinction itself. We can characterize the distinction in
narrowly syntactic
terms instead. A little more precisely, we can characterize the distinction in such a way that putting an expression between quotation marks, to form a singular noun phrase, is sufficient for mentioning the expression,
⁸²
whether or not the expression’s meaning is being waived. (Thus in the sentence ‘The only word for this is “preposterous”,’ the adjective ‘preposterous’ is mentioned.)
⁸³
Moreover,
unless
we characterize the distinction in this way, it will be of no avail in buttressing my original suggestion. For if mentioning an expression really did involve putting it to service in a way that waived whatever meaning it had, so as to draw attention to the expression itself, then a good translation of a text in which a given expression was mentioned would, all else being equal, leave that expression intact. Yet clearly, if we describe, in English, the relationship between some given non-propositional insight and some given artful use of language, then any examples of that use of language that we give will themselves be in English; and any translation of what we say into French will involve their French equivalents. So, on the first (broadly semantic) characterization of the distinction, we shall not have mentioned the expressions concerned. But mentioning the expressions concerned
was precisely what was supposed to enable us to engage with that use of language while keeping a suitable distance from it.

What then becomes of my original suggestion? Well, I think I can stand by it. Mentioning expressions, and in that quasi-technical sense talking about them, does enable us to engage with artful uses of language while keeping a suitable (syntactic) distance from them. But the very fact that it does not determine what we are drawing attention to, nor, more generally, what effect we are achieving, means that it also leaves us free, with due skill and artistry of our own, to accomplish much of what can be accomplished by the very uses of language with which we are dealing. In particular, it means that we can, without ceasing at any point ‘soberly to affirm truths’, both identify some non-propositional insight as what is conveyed by some artful use of language that we have described and, if all goes really well, convey the insight. All that matters from Derrida’s point of view is that we should not at the same time claim to have done something fundamentally different from whatever someone does if he or she actually indulges in the use of language in question. But that is fine. We need claim no such thing.