I agree wholeheartedly with your take on postmodernism. I’d just like to add something to your comments on Derrida.
Derrida teaches his own kind of pluralism, not of epistemologies but of viewpoints, to systematically find every possible interpretation of a text without preferring one over another, and every possible authorial bias that hides and us hidden by those readings. — Kenosha Kid
What I would describe Derrida doing when he deconstructs text text is attempting to situate it in the richest and therefore most ‘precise’ context possible. Let’s say he is taking on Plato. First, he will choose a specific text of his rather than make general
comments about the arc of his philosophy. He does this because he recognizes that an author’s ideas change not only from period to the next in their lives, but even within a single work. Derrida typically goes to great lengths to justify a claim that he frequently makes that a certain consistent thematics unites the various periods of an authors writing. He then attempts to convey this thematics as faithfully as possible before he sets out to deconstruct it. One would think that Derrida would argue that it is impossible to convey any work ‘faithfully’, according to the author’s intent , since deconstruction. seems to reject the idea that one can ever locate this intent. But what Derrida means by interpreting the work faithfully is , to take into account that the reading is taking place from the vantage of a 20th or 21at century context , and the personal vantage of Derrida ( or whoever else is attempting the deconstruction) , and what ever other contexts belong to the interpreter’s background. Unearthing as many of these intertwined contexts as one can make explicit go towards strengthening the rigor of the reading. Having thus made explicit all of these interwoven contexts, Derrida proceeds to deconstruct Plato, revealing the interdependencies underlying Plato’s univocal and unequivocal assertions. So rather than encouraging every possible interpretation without preference for any one , Derrida is encouraging an exhaustively researched method of situating a work within the most complexity and intricate contexts.
Here’s one of my favorite examples
from ‘Points’ , the collection of interviews. Derrida’s
response to the question concerning the meaning of drug addiction is a great demonstration of how he attempts to situate the context of the meaning of a concept in as rich and ‘precise’ a way as possible.
Q.: You are not a specialist in the study of drug addiction, yet we suppose that as a philosopher you may have something of particular interest to say on this subject, if only because of the concepts common both to philosophy and addictive studies, for example dependency, freedom, pleasure, jouissance.
J.D.: Okay. Let us speak then from the point of view of the nonspecialist which indeed I am. But certainly you will agree that in this case we are dealing with something other than a delimitable domain. The criteria for competence, and especially for professional competence, are very problematic here. In the end, it is just these criteria that, whether directly or not, we will be led to discuss. Having identified me as a philosopher, a non-specialist in this thing called "drug addiction," you have just named a number of highly philosophical concepts, concepts that philosophy is obliged to consider as priorities: "freedom," "dependency," "pleasure" or "jouissance," and so forth. So be it. But I propose to begin quite simply with "concept," with the concept of concept. "Drugs" is both a word and a concept, even before one adds quotation marks to indicate that one is only mentioning them and not using them, that one is not buying, selling, or ingesting the "stuff itself" [!a chose meme ]. Such a remark is not neutral, innocently philosophical, logical or speculative. Nor is it for the same reasons, nor in the same manner that one might note, just as correctly, that such and such a plant, root, or substance is also for us a concept, a "thing" apprehended through the name of a concept and the device of an interpretation.
No, in the case of "drugs" the regime of the concept is different: there are no drugs "in nature." There may be "natural" poisons and indeed naturally lethal poisons, but they are not poisonous insofar as they are drugs. As with drug addiction, the concept of drugs supposes an instituted and an institutional definition: a history is required, and a culture, conventions, evaluations, norms, an entire network of intertwined discourses, a rhetoric, whether explicit or elliptical. We will surely come back to this rhetorical dimension. There is not, in the case of drugs, any objective, scientific, physical (physicalistic), or "naturalistic" definition (or rather there is: this definition may be "naturalistic," if by this we understand that it attempts to naturalize that which defies any natural definition or any definition of natural reality). One can claim to define the nature of a toxin; however, not all toxins are drugs, nor are they considered as such.
Already one must conclude that the concept of drugs is a non-scientific concept, that it is instituted on the basis of moral or political evaluations: it carries in itself norm or prohibition, and allows no possibility of description or certification-it is a decree, a buzzword [mot d' ordre]. Usually the decree is of a prohibitive nature; occasionally, on the other hand, it is glorified and revered: malediction and benediction always call to and imply one another. As soon as one utters the word "drugs," even before any "addiction," a prescriptive or normative "diction" is already at work, performatively, whether one likes it or not. This "concept" will never be a purely theoretical or theorizable concept. And if there is never a theorem for drugs, there can never be a scientific competence for it either, one attestable as such and which would not be essentially overdetermined by ethicopolitical norms. For this reason I have seen fit to begin with some reservations about the division "specialist/ non-specialist." No doubt the division may prove difficult for other reasons. From these premises one may draw diff erent, indeed contradictory ethico-political conclusions.
On the one hand, there would be a naturalist conclusion: "Since 'drugs' and 'drug addiction,' " one might say, "are nothing but normative concepts, institutional evaluations or prescriptions, this artifice must be reduced. Let us return to true natural freedom. Natural law dictates that each of us be left the freedom to do as we will with our desire, our soul, and our body, as well as with that stuff known as 'drugs.' Let us finally do away with this law which the history of conventions and of ethical norms has so deeply inscribed in the concept of'drugs'; let's get rid of this suppression or repression; let's return to nature." To this naturalistic, liberal, and indeed la.xist decree [mot d' ordre] one may, on the basis of the same premises, oppose an artificialist policy and a deliberately repressive position.
Occasionally, this may, just like its liberal counterpart, take on a therapeutic guise, preventativist, if I can put it like that, inclined to be persuasionist and pedagogical: "we recognize," one might say, "that this concept of drugs is an instituted norm. Its origin and its history are obscure. Such a norm does not follow analytically from any scientific concept of natural toxicity, nor, despite all our best efforts to establish it in this sense, will it ever do so. Nonetheless, by entirely assuming the logic of this prescriptive and repressive convention, we believe that our society, our culture, our conventions require this interdiction. Let us deploy it consistently. At stake here are the health, security, productivity, and the orderly functioning of these very institutions.
By means of this law, at once supplementary and fundamental, these institutions protect the very possibility of the law in general, for by prohibiting drugs we assure the integrity and responsibility of the legal subject, of the citizens, and so forth. There can be no law without the conscious, vigilant, and normal subject, master of his or her intentions and desires. This interdiction and this law are thus not just artifacts like any other: they are the very condition of possibility of a respect for the law in general in our society. An interdiction is not necessarily bad, nor must it necessarily assume brutal forms; the paths it follows may be rwisted and symbolically overdetermined, but no one can deny that the survival of our culture originarily comprises this interdiction. It belongs to the very concept of our culture, and so forth.
From the moment we recognize the institutional character of a certain concept of drugs, drug addiction, narcotics, and poisons, two ethico-political axiomatics seem to oppose each other. Briefly put, I am not sure that this contradiction is more than superficial; nor am I convinced that either of these logics can follow through to their conclusions; and finally I am not sure that the two so radically exclude each other. Let us not forget that both start from the same premises-that is, the opposition of nature and institution. And not simply of nature and the law, but indeed already of two laws, of two decrees. Naturalism is no more natural than conventionalism.”