December 2, 2004

An Armchair Critic Deconstructs

Jacques Derrida (pronounced with accents on the first and last syllables), one of the leading voices in modern literary theory and founder of the concept of deconstruction, died October 8 in Paris. Derrida's influence reached far beyond literary theory to impact philosophy, theology, sociology, history, and politics. His work is probably as significant as Freud and Darwin in its influence, and yet it is largely misunderstood by laymen who seem to think the word is synonymous with"destruction." (Paul Harvey made this mistake this morning on his radio show when he talked about the "deconstruction" of some old office buildings that are being torn down.)

Like Harvey, many armchair philosophers and intellectuals think that
"deconstruction" and "destruction" are virtually interchangeable, and accuse Derrida of setting out to destroy western culture. Although that has indeed been the goal of some of his misguided and overzealous followers, and probably explains to some extent the French distrust of the dominant American culture, "destruction" is not the inevitable result of "deconstruction." The root of deconstruction is not "destruct" but "construct," a word Derrida used in its noun form (accent on the first syllable), to mean a model, pattern or framework upon which other ideas are built. He exposed the construct of western culture by taking apart each building block and examining all its sides for additional layers of unspoken meaning. As a very simple example, "red" is both red and "the absence of everything that is not red." That may seem silly and self-evident, but when one is the woman or minority who is "the absence of everything that is not man," Derrida's discovery begins to take on great significance.

Heralded as a new paradigm, deconstruction focused on the "other" that was largely overlooked by the dominant culture. Like an earlier French philosopher, Frederic Bastiat, Derrida focused on the unseen rather than the seen. Deconstructionists thus challenge the "constructs" of a society, the cultural framework upon which the building blocks of assumption and stereotype are constructed. These building blocks often begin with phrases like, "Everyone knows" or "It's human nature to..." followed by a blatant and widely accepted stereotype. Instead, Derrida would say "everyone in the dominant culture assumes" or "it's western cultural nature to." He insisted that people examine their biases and preconceptions before assuming that "everyone believes" as they do.

Derrida discovered through this examination an obvious but important truth: western culture is built upon a construct of philosophy and history that focuses on the white males who recorded it. What immediately comes to mind when you think of British history? Probably a list of monarchs, wars, and imperial conquests. When deconstructionists examined the history that was not normally seen, i.e., the aspects of British history that are not made up of kings and conquerors, they discovered a rich history that focuses on the everyday lives of ordinary individuals: women, servants, immigrants, and others. The result is a whole new approach to history, literature, religion, politics and philosophy.

The "good" of Derrida and deconstruction is that we began examining the "other"-the alternate, non-dominant cultures that live side-by-side with the dominant culture, contributing unacknowledged meaning and value to a society. Feminism and multi-culturalism are two main offshoots of deconstructionism, and I applaud the new non-war approach to history and literature that is taught today. The "bad" of Derrida and deconstruction is that these "others" were pushed into becoming the new dominant culture, simultaneously marginalizing the white male as the "new other." This led to our current climate of legally enforced "political correctness" that is as bad as the previous marginalization of minority cultures. I don't think this was the intent of Derrida, who rejected the duality of good/evil, black/white, master/servant. But it has been the result.

Deconstruction can be a valuable tool for decoding language and facilitating communication. For example, when my oldest son was a teenager, he and his friends suddenly discovered camping. My own "construct" of camping included such building blocks as hunting, fishing, hiking, cooking on an open fire, sleeping under the stars, communing with nature, and having long philosophical discussions about God and the universe. In other words, "camping" had positive, wholesome connotations for me, and I was delighted when my son developed an interest in it. Of course, when I deconstruct my camping model for my college students, they invariably laugh at my naivete. To their generation, the building blocks of "camping" include drinking, smoking, goofing off and hooking up, with no phones and no parental access. In the 21st century, even that construct of camping is changing, as cell phones have made teens accessible wherever they are and many parents have made their homes available as a safer place for drinking and sex. But the point is this: Derrida challenges us to deconstruct the codes that are embedded within our language, to understand not only the denotations of words but also the connotations, and to realize that the denotations themselves are replete with connotations. (See also George Orwell's masterful essay, "Politics and the English Language." And while you're at it, deconstruct that word "masterful"!]).

Thinking deconstructively opens one's eyes to the possibilities of language. Just as my mind was drawn to examine my unconscious use of the word "masterful," I am also drawn to muse on the use of parentheses, boundaries which simultaneously marginalize and emphasize the words within the frame (a dual function served by quotation marks as well). Our enjoyment of puns and other figures of speech rely on the assumption that the other person will understand our multiple layers of meaning, meanings that are often lost on members of other cultures who do not use our same symbols or word associations. Thus, even our humor marginalizes and isolates the "other" implied by the "absence of those not in the dominant culture."

As another example, deconstructing the term "private property" implies both "this is mine" and the equally important "this is not yours." Why is this important? Because it eliminates the "finders keepers" rule. In our home, even while raising five children, money can sit around on a counter or desk top for weeks and no one will take it. Eventually the owner will pick it up, or someone will finally say, "Does anyone own this money?" Only after thoroughly checking for the rightful owner will the claimant pocket the money. We never consciously decided on this rule, it just arose naturally from our family's construct of the principle of private property. My son has taught his roommates these same rules of private property, resulting in a peaceful coexistence in the refrigerator. Imagine living in a world where everyone respected the concept that "mine" is also "not yours"!

By examining the constructs that underlie the core values of a dominant culture, Derrida discovered unspoken layers of meaning that, when examined further, contribute to a more complete and honest understanding of the human experience. Like Frederic Bastiat before him, Derrida discovered that the unspoken and the unseen are just as powerful and important as the spoken and the seen.

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