The voice in between
Conceptualizing the public intellectual after postmodernism
Thesis MA in Philosophy Student: Jetske Brouwer
Supervisor: prof. dr. Yolande Jansen Second reader: dr. Jacques Bos
Image front cover:
We listen to the voice that starts to work in the crowd. It is a clear, didactical voice, a voice full of drama and clarity, a voice that burns and forces.
- Cees Nooteboom ‘Sartre in Brussel’ (1963)
Table of Contents
Introduction 1
Past and present intellectuals 3
1. To speak or not to speak 6
1.1 The problem of speaking for others 7
1.2 Reductionism and retreat 10
1.3 The ‘who’ that speaks 12
1.4 Answering postmodernism 15
2. Lived philosophy 20
2.1 Plaidoyer pour les intellectuels 21
2.2 Sartre’s speaking 28
2.3 Rereading Sartre 30
3. Universality, specificity and beyond 36
3.1 Resisting in power 36
3.2 Freedom practices 40
3.3 Sartre and Foucault: rapprochement 43
4. Overcoming impasses 47
4.1 Fanon’s ‘action-reality’ 48
4.2 Said and the exilic intellectual 51
Conclusion 56
1
Introduction
Jean-Paul Sartre once declared that to him philosophy and life were one and the same thing, he lived in philosophy.1 ‘Freedom’ and ‘responsibility’ were key notions in his theories – hence Sartre’s activities in public life that concerned a continuous fight against unjust practices and an endeavor to raise consciousness about these amongst other people, in order to achieve a free and equal society. As a student in the twenties, and a philosophy teacher and upcoming author in the thirties, Sartre did not publicly express his political opinions, let alone exhibit political activity.2 However, when the Second World War ended, Sartre ceased to operate from his study only. He became a public figure who spoke out on a variety of political issues – often to disclose oppression. He used his status as a writer and philosopher to influence various political issues.
Sartre then fitted the characterization of the public intellectual as formulated by commentator and scholar Daniel Drezner. In a recent article, Drezner describes the public intellectual – a species that would be in decline – as someone who ‘will tell you everything that is wrong with everyone else’s ideas (…). They are critics, and critiquing bad ideas is a necessary function. Their greatest contribution to public discourse is to point out when an emperor has no clothes.’3
As to Sartre, his theoretical ideas and practical work with regard to political engagement have been profoundly criticized. Historian Régine Robin argues that amongst today’s intellectuals a ‘sartrophobia’ can be detected. ‘Over and over again we hear: “He was wrong about everything”.’4
Nevertheless, Sartre’s influence as a public intellectual is undeniable. His vocation was of a traditional kind: he portrays the intellectual who fights against injustice in the name of truth and freedom.
What is left of this vocation today, after the rise of postmodernism? Truth and freedom have become problematic notions, artefacts of an age in which people told ‘grand narratives of emancipation and enlightenment’,5 fairytales that are regarded as outdated, not to say disturbing.6 Philosopher Karen Vintges wonders where the ‘critical thinkers, the engaged
1 Ruud Welten, ‘De terugkeer’, in: Ruud Welten ed., Sartre. Een hedendaagse inleiding (Kampen 2005) 7-22,
10. (my italics)
2 David Drake, ‘Sartre. Intellectual of the Twentieth Century’, Sartre Studies International 9 (2003) 29-39, 30. 3 Daniel Drezner, ‘Triumph of the Thought Leader; … and the Eclipse of the Public Intellectual’, 6th of April
2017, website The Chronicle of Higher Education. http://www.chronicle.com/article/Triumph-of-the-Thought-Leader/239691 (13th of July, 2017).
4 Régine Robin, ‘“Sartre was always wrong” – or was he?’, Journal of Romance Studies 6 (2006) 79-92, 80. 5
Edward W. Said, Representations of the Intellectual. The 1993 Reith Lectures (New York 1996) 17-18.
2 intellectuals, the political activists’ sojourn.7
Vintges argues that their absence could be a consequence of postmodernism’s theoretical heritage. She explains that postmodern theorists exposed the ‘will to power’ that universal narratives such as liberalism carry with them.8
The omnipresence of power thwarts intellectuals’ emancipatory ideals, for power is undeniably embedded in their own discourse or actions too.
Next to power, difference has become a key explicatory notion. Both concepts problematize public intellectuals’ traditional role: how can they properly represent others, how can they do justice to individual experiences or to those of oppressed groups they do not belong to themselves? And if public intellectuals want to promote freedom and fight oppression, how can they be sure to be ‘right’ to engage in the struggle? Plus, what about the guarantee that the authority, that is power, they employ is not much of muchness?
Still, what if intellectuals or persons in privileged speaking positions, for example academics, detect discrimination of others in society, what if they perceive injustice – should they, and if so in what way, speak up on behalf of the people who suffer from these unjust practices? Can and moreover should they formulate the needs of these others that seem to be disregarded? In both academic circles and societal communities, the answer might not be an uncomplicated ‘yes’ – in fact, some may respond with an unambiguous ‘no’.
Philosopher Linda Alcoff explains what underlies this hesitation or outright dismissal: an increasing criticism on the ‘discursive practice’ of speaking for others.9
An example of this is the position of certain feminists who deem speaking for others ‘arrogant, vain, unethical and politically illegitimate.’10
Hence, some of them state that when speaking, they only speak for themselves, they are not representing the beliefs or ideas of others. What would be the consequence of a mere rejection of speaking for others? Especially if these others are people in less privileged positions – will they be heard? Alcoff worries that a dismissal of speaking for others would come down to a neglecting of political responsibility.11 She underlines that ‘there is too little responsibility-taking already in Western practice!’
Moreover, recent political developments such as the British referendum on EU-membership and the rise of president Donald Trump, show a new usage of reality that various commentators have interpreted as ‘post-truth’; the politicians involved are not afraid to speak for others and make claims against ‘false truths’ or mere ‘opinions’ of ‘partial elites’. Political
7
Ibidem.
8 Ibidem.
9 Linda Alcoff, ‘The Problem of Speaking for Others’, Cultural Critique 20 (1991-1992) 5-32, 6. 10
Ibidem.
3
scientists Nicholas Allen and Sarah Birch explain that ‘post-truth’ politicians ‘base their campaigns on grossly distorted “facts”, dismiss impartial expertise and evidence, and make manifestly contradictory promises’. Allen and Birch argue that such behavior endangers liberal democracy, which can only function when politicians strive for truth and honesty.12 Importantly, these ‘post-truth’ attitudes are rather a perversion of what postmodern theorists have meant with their cautiousness vis-à-vis general claim-making: ‘post-truth’ politicians display no awareness of the irreducibility of alterity, the problems surrounding general claim-making nor the impact of their (discursive) power.
In this thesis, I will examine what can be the role of the public intellectual after postmodernism and in a post-truth context. Additionally, I will discuss the philosophical problem of speaking for others that is important for a conceptualization of public intellectuals. I will inquire whether, and if so on what basis, they can speak up against injustice, possibly on behalf of other people. Discussions on the role of the intellectual and the problem of speaking for others have been held in a European context as well as in a postcolonial one. Moreover, these discussions’ questions about power and accountability, universality and alterity are especially relevant in the field of postcolonial theorizing in which supposedly neutral or universal ideas and values are recognized as biased or particularistic. For the present discussion, I will therefore reread the work of two theorists who have (largely) worked in a European context – Jean-Paul Sartre and Michel Foucault – and two theorists who have been especially influential in postcolonial studies: Frantz Fanon and Edward Said.
Past and present intellectuals
I will discuss Sartre’s and Foucault’s thought for they can be regarded as two immensely influential public intellectuals who are actually considered philosophical opponents – also with regard to the present discussion. Foucault’s vision on the public intellectual exhibits a rejection of certain Sartrean ideas. Foucault rejects the idea of ideology, a crucial concept in Sartre’s thought.13
Accordingly, Foucault opposes the idea of a public intellectual who serves as the ‘consciousness of us all’,14
a spokesperson who can point out where truth and justice are under attack, who knows that people are being mystified without them knowing themselves.
12 Nicholas Allen and Sarah Birch, ‘“Post-truth” politics are a debasement of standards in public life’, 25th of
July 2016, Website Democratic Audit UK. http://www.democraticaudit.com/2016/07/25/post-truth-politics-are-a-debasement-of-standards-in-public-life/ (13th of July 2017).
13 Michel Foucault, Colin Gordon ed., Power/Knowledge. Selected Interviews and Other Writings 1972-1977
(New York 1980) 118.
4
Foucault argues that this old idea of the intellectual portrays a ‘universal intellectual’, the ‘clear, individual figure of a universality whose obscure, collective form is embodied in the proletariat.’15
This figure belongs to the past, Foucault states. The (post)modern intellectual is a ‘specific intellectual’. He challenges injustice that surrounds him more directly and that has a ‘non-universal’ character. I will argue against this dichotomy between the ‘universal’ and the ‘specific’ intellectual; when conceptualizing the role of today’s intellectual it might be convenient to go beyond this dichotomy. I will base this argument on the similarities I detect in Sartre’s and Foucault’s conceptions of the intellectual.
Sartre’s ideas on how we, or the public intellectual, can take responsibility and act upon the world, changed across time. He explicitly set out these ideas in his 1948 What is
Literature? and in his 1965 Plaidoyer pour les intellectuels.16 Importantly, in this thesis, I will focus on Sartre’s conception of the public intellectual as he expounded it in PI. I will argue that (more than WL) this work addresses present issues with regard to the public intellectual and the problem of speaking for others. This follows from specific notions Sartre employs in
PI: the singular universal (us being simultaneously individuals and part of a totality that is
society) and le vécu: (irreducible) lived experience.17 In these concepts we find the tension between universality and specificity – a tension that is fundamental when determining the (post)modern intellectual’s role. I will argue that we find the same tension in Foucault’s work. Foucault’s own conception of the public intellectual as displayed in his various writings cannot be deemed univocal. In fact, I will argue that his later work actually shows a rapprochement to Sartre.18
As said, questions about public intellectuals’ role and their authority are important in postcolonial studies. The same goes for the problem of speaking for others; as I will discuss in more detail in the first chapter, speaking for others is deemed especially problematic when the ones who are spoken for are in less privileged positions. It is then questionable whether Western intellectuals should speak for former colonized people – wouldn’t that be yet another attempt to keep less privileged people from speaking for themselves? And what if an intellectual who belonged to this former colonized class speaks for these people, on the basis
15 Ibidem.
16 Jean-Paul Sartre, What is Literature? [1948] (Routledge Classics 2001) and Jean-Paul Sartre, Plaidoyer pour
les intellectuels [1965] (Gallimard 1972). From now on, I will abbreviate What is Literature? to WL and Plaidoyer pour les intellectuels to PI.
17
In chapter 2 I will thoroughly discuss the notions of ‘the singular universal’ and ‘le vécu’.
18 I have drawn the term ‘rapprochement’ from Thomas R. Flynn who coins it in his article: ‘Sartre and Foucault:
A Cross-Generational Exchange’, Sartre Studies International 10 (2004) 47-55. In this article Flynn notices that various theorists have recently examined similarities in works by Sartre and Foucault and have looked for a reconcilement of these two philosophers’ thought, whereas before, their differences were mostly emphasized.
5
of what morality can or should she or he formulate claims; is it necessary to avoid Western terminology?
To discuss these issues I will set out conceptions of the public intellectual of two theorists who have been, and still are, influential in postcolonial studies: Frantz Fanon and Edward Said. These two theorists are important ones with regard to the discussion of speaking for others. I will lay out their ideas, for they have been influenced by respectively Sartre and Foucault which enables me to examine what difference a postcolonial context makes for the problem of speaking for others and a conception of public intellectuals. Furthermore, Fanon and Said have been influential in both academia and political practice.
In the first chapter I will expound the problem of speaking for others as formulated by Alcoff and discuss different positions vis-à-vis the issue. After that, I will analyze Sartre’s conception of the public intellectual as he displayed it in PI. In the third chapter I will discuss Foucault’s ideas on the matter and compare these to Sartre’s. I will finish with the viewpoints of Fanon and Said in the final chapter.
Importantly, in rereading these four theorists’ work, I will take an approach analogous to philosopher Ruud Welten’s. Welten has studied Sartre’s oeuvre for it comprises many ideas that have been forgotten. Ideas on problems we could recognize as ours today.19 Welten reexamines Sartre’s philosophy in order to differently approach our own problems. He emphasizes that he does not aim to uncritically reintroduce Sartre’s ideas, nor to find out whether he was ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ – instead, Welten proposes a ‘critical, or deconstructive’ reading of Sartre that could be insightful in (post)modern discussions.20 I aim to approach the works by Sartre, Foucault, Fanon and Said in this particular way.
19
Welten, ‘De terugkeer’, 20.
6
1. To speak or not to speak
What should we do when we detect injustice that does not necessarily concern ourselves? Intuitively, it seems that we should expose unjust practices, we should speak up about them. However, how can we be sure to properly speak for the people who suffer from injustice? Some may advise to stick to our own business before we increase the harm that has already been done. The practice of speaking for others faces severe criticism on the basis of both theoretical and practical arguments. Linda Alcoff argues that this criticism might lead some to abstain from speaking up on behalf of other people. She worries about the implications for practical politics of such a choice. If we only speak on behalf of ourselves, would we miss opportunities to provoke change in the lives and circumstances of others? Alcoff explains that ‘collective action and coalitions would seem to require the possibility of speaking for.’21
Furthermore, she wonders what the alternative to speaking for others would be like. Would it imply a deconstruction of our own discourse or would the best option be to abstain from speaking altogether?22
Alcoff displays hesitancy in absolutely rejecting the practice of speaking for others. She seems to scrutinize the problem in order to somehow ‘save’ the practice – at least to some extent – to keep the possibility of effective political action. Accordingly, she examines the arguments that base the criticism and she discusses the consequences of abstention. Her main questions are the following: ‘Is the discursive practice of speaking for others ever a valid practice, and, if so, what are the criteria for validity? In particular, is it ever valid to speak for others who are unlike me or who are less privileged than me?’23
In this chapter, I will start with a discussion of the theoretical and practical problems surrounding speaking for others, as explained by Alcoff. Next, I will examine two possible responses to the problem that are rejected by her. I will argue that central in her critique are arguments of practical nature – it is political effectivity that is at stake for her. Subsequently, I will discuss communication scientist Tony E. Adams’s vision on speaking for others, which I deem complementary to Alcoff’s, for he further develops arguments of ontological nature; Adams argues that when we speak, there always is – ontologically speaking – the potentiality that we speak for others. Therefore Adams concludes that when determining how we can use discourse responsibly, we should not ask ‘do we speak for others?’ and abstain from speaking
21 Alcoff, ‘The Problem of Speaking for Others’, 11. 22
Ibidem, 8.
7
if the answer would be ‘yes’. Instead, Adams proposes to examine how we – possibly purposefully – speak for others and understand what consequences our discourse has.
1.1 The problem of speaking for others
According to Alcoff, the critique on the discursive practice of speaking for others originates from a twofold realization; the first one concerns the impact of one’s ‘social location’ when speaking, the second the discursive dangers some social locations carry with them.24 Alcoff states that our speech is insurmountably affected by our social location, that is our social identity.25 This has epistemological consequences: the meaning and truth of our claims are necessarily influenced by inter alia our specific background or frame of reference. In addition, Alcoff argues that a social location can serve to either ‘authorize or disauthorize one’s speech’.26
An example of this would be someone who, when making an argument, brings in her or his own experiences. These experiences, possibly not generally shared, have an impact on the meaning and truth of this person’s claims: their plausibility increases.
What’s more, social locations differ from each other as regards power, which results in so-called discursive danger. Verbally uniform claims can have dissimilar epistemological properties resulting from the social position of the speaker who utters them. Alcoff explains the danger underlying this: when a privileged person speaks for a less privileged person, the result of their speech – despite good intentions – might be a reinforcement of the less privileged person’s discrimination.27
An example of this would be a television talk show in which a male expert is invited to expound the problem of female underrepresentation in public functions and the importance of female role models. If this important issue is set out by a man, the addressed inequality could be reinforced.
Alcoff further explores the problem in two different ways that both concern issues of representation. Firstly, she examines whether we could lessen discursive danger if we would only speak on behalf of people ‘we belong to’.28
Would group membership legitimize the representation of others’ beliefs or ideas? Alcoff argues that this question has no straightforward answer. If I will only speak on behalf of people I somewhat belong to, I will come across another problem that originates from the relation between the individual and the group. If we speak on behalf of a group, regardless its social status, we categorize the
24 Ibidem, 6-7. 25 Ibidem, 7. 26 Ibidem. 27 Ibidem. 28 Ibidem.
8
individuals belonging to that group. Since people will ‘have membership’ to different groups, demarcating one group is problematic.29 If I for instance speak on behalf of all female Philosophy students in my department, I ignore differences in these students’ ethnicity or sexuality – never mind differences in social status. Accordingly, when speaking for, we cannot follow the ‘guideline’ to speak only for people we belong to; our plural identity (our membership to various groups) implies that we cannot coincide with one group, that is, all the people that belong to that group, as a result of which we cannot properly represent a specific group.
Secondly, Alcoff shows that we cannot thoroughly distinguish ‘speaking for’ someone and ‘speaking about’ someone. When we speak for others, we will necessarily say things
about them (e.g. about their situation or desires) and when we speak about others, we also – to
some extent – speak in place of, that is for them.30 This touches upon what Alcoff calls ‘the crisis of representation’: in a ritual of speaking that involves others, one inevitably makes claims about who these others are, as a result of which their social identities are (partly) modified or constructed.31 Alcoff draws this conclusion from the assumption that representation is always mediated, which means that we will not be able to simply discover the other’s deep self (whether or not such a notion would exist – some would reject the idea) and demonstrate it flawlessly and unhindered.32
In addition to this, Alcoff underlines that this crisis of representation actually concerns our own representation of ourselves too. ‘In speaking for myself, I (momentarily) create myself – just as much as when I speak for others I create their selves – in the sense that I create a public, discursive self, which will in most cases have an effect on the self experienced as interiority’.33 Alcoff’s conception of speaking for, whether it concerns self or others, seems to be a creative act, rather than an act of discovery. Uttered words do not unproblematically represent specific mental states or properties of identity, but affect these too, since the act of speaking creates or (re)shapes them.
If we create others as public, discursive subjects when we speak for them, it becomes clear that speaking for is a powerful enterprise. However, I want to underline that this conclusion does not necessarily lead to a clear-cut attitude with regard to the problem of speaking for others. Two side notes should be taken into consideration. Firstly, as Alcoff
29 Ibidem, 8. 30 Ibidem, 9. 31 Ibidem. 32 Ibidem. 33 Ibidem, 10.
9
shows, we always create when we speak – we create ourselves too. Importantly then, the ‘public self’ becomes a concept that is an endless ‘work in progress’, it is always under construction. This implies that when I speak for someone else, my subject-creation of him or her will not be of definitive nature. A subject is no fixed entity, change remains possible. Secondly, I would argue that we should not regard the speaker as an almighty agent. The subject-creation does not only depend on the speaker (her or his social position, her or his choice of words et cetera). Other factors such as context or audience play a role too. This is not to trivialize discursive power, but to emphasize the complexity of speaking.
Grasping speaking as a creative enterprise turns attention from the uttered or written words to the agents of the speaking event, its context and its epistemological implications. Alcoff, following Foucault, understands speaking as a ‘ritual of speaking’, that comprises multiple aspects. The agents of the speaking event are speaker and listener who both have a specific social location and accordingly do or do not possess certain privileges. Alcoff understands the discursive context as twofold: it concerns the relation of the spoken to other words and texts as well as to the ‘material practices in the relevant environment’ that may transcend the specific environment of the discursive practice concerned.34
This context affects the meaning of the words; the ontology of meaning is not restricted to words only, but to the whole context of the speaking event. Since contexts differ from each other, meaning becomes plural and shifting.35 A further epistemological implication concerns truth:36 regardless of the possible existence of one ‘actual’ truth, rituals of speaking assume differences in truth – we could contrast the authority of the (verbally equal) claims of a professional doctor or a medicine undergraduate. Alcoff explains: ‘how what is said gets heard depends on who says it’.37
Alcoff argues that such a conception has an effect upon the practice of speaking for others. This discursive practice carries with it two premises. Firstly, ‘positionality, location or context’ will always affect the content of the text and secondly, contexts relate to structures of oppression or resistance, which implies that they are not politically equal ‘and, given that
34 Alcoff, ‘The Problem of Speaking for Others’, 12. 35
Ibidem.
36 Ibidem, 13. 37 Ibidem.
Alcoff provides a concise history of Western philosophy as regards truth: Alcoff, ‘The Problem of Speaking for Others’, 14.
10
politics is connected to truth, all are not epistemically equal’.38 Alcoff explains that the premises imply that a speaker is not fully in control when speaking.39
In short then, the problem of speaking for others concerns the social location of the agents of a speaking event and the people who are spoken for, who differ with regard to privilege. Additionally, unequivocal representation is hindered by the creative force that underlies a speaking event. The problems that speaking for others carries with it have generated different theoretical attitudes. In the following section I will discuss two of these that are – to a different extent – rejected by Alcoff. She calls these the ‘charge of reductionism’ response and the retreat response.
1.2 Reductionism and retreat
Alcoff states that the response of many academic theorists could be understood as a ‘charge of reductionism’.40
They argue that the two premises Alcoff set out, denote ‘a sort of reductionist theory of justification (or evaluation)’.41 They reject interpreting social location in an essentialist, fixed way, that determines the meaning or truth of one’s speech. A simple example of this would be the following: men should not engage in feminist discussions because of their male privilege. Such an attitude essentializes both the male and female experience in a way that is problematic on a theoretical level (the idea of ‘the’ male or female experience has been rejected) as well as on a practical one (is it politically effective if men would leave the feminist struggle to women, while this struggle often concerns relations between men and women?).
Alcoff however, argues that the premises cannot be charged of reductionism. She explains that they do not state that social locations determine meaning and truth, but that they
bear on meaning and truth. She underlines that our social location or positionality should
actually be understood as ‘multiple and with varying degrees of mobility’.42
Accordingly, the relation between our social location and the meaning and truth of our speech acts cannot be deemed unequivocal at all.
Secondly, Alcoff notes that the issues with regard to speaking for others could form the incentive for some to abstain from it. Exemplifying this is what Alcoff calls the ‘retreat response’ of some US feminists. These theorists argue that our own experiences and our own
38 Ibidem, 14-15. 39 Ibidem, 15. 40 Ibidem, 17. 41 Ibidem, 16. 42 Ibidem.
11
truth can never be properly articulated by other people. Alcoff explains that underlying this stance could be the motive of respect for differences and the cautiousness to hierarchize these.43 However, she argues that in spite of these good intentions, a retreat response might rest on misleading assumptions, that could even be dangerous when they go unrecognized.
Alcoff argues that if we limit ourselves to speaking for ourselves only, we make an assumption on the ‘ontological configuration of the discursive context’ that she deems false. We then seem to think that it is possible to speak and not affect others’ situation or practices, that is to speak without responsibility.44 Alcoff underscores that this position actually rests on a classical liberal conception of the autonomous self that can be disconnected from others.45 Furthermore, this problem cannot be overcome if we choose to not speak at all.46 This choice would affect others too; chosen silence could result in the free reign of dominant, that is possibly oppressive, discourses.
This ontological argument relates to Alcoff’s explanation of speaking as a creating practice. I discussed the idea that when we speak for ourselves or others, we create public discursive subjects. This conception implies that if we create such subjects, we do not create ‘classical liberal’ subjects that live autonomously and unconnected from others. Rather, we create social entities that are situated in a specific context, surrounded by other subjects. This means that in speaking for/creating one specific subject, I could affect other subjects too – despite the fact that I do not explicitly speak about/intentionally create them. If I speak about a specific experience I had as a Philosophy student, I cannot be sure that I do not involuntarily help constitute a more general idea about other Philosophy students.
Alcoff further elaborates this point by arguing that the intention to speak only for yourself could be motivated by the desire to be somewhat infallible; the underlying idea would be that if you only speak for yourself you cannot be criticized, since you would not be making any general claims but only speak on behalf of yourself, possibly basing yourself on personal experiences. Alcoff not only shows that such an attitude cannot be realized on an ontological level, she underlines that the desire to avoid criticism or errors (despite noble intentions) should be rejected on moral or political grounds: again, it displays an abstention of responsibility-taking.47 She calls this a ‘desire for personal mastery, to establish a privileged discursive position wherein one cannot be undermined or challenged and thus is master of the
43 Ibidem, 17. 44 Ibidem, 18. 45 Ibidem, 20. 46 Ibidem. 47 Ibidem, 22.
12 situation.’48
Such an attitude, Alcoff emphasizes, could actually turn out to be a reinforcement of someone’s privileged position: such a speaker will not critically reflect on his own ideas or positionality, since these are thought to not concern anyone but the speaker.
Importantly, Alcoff’s critique on the retreat response is partly based on arguments of practical nature. She states that the retreat response could be unveiled as an excuse for privileged people to justify the fact that they do not take responsibility for others’ situation because there would be no right way of doing this. Alcoff states that the retreat response ‘may result merely in a retreat into a narcissistic yuppie lifestyle’.49
She acknowledges that not all adherents of the retreat response could be accused of such an attitude. Still, even the well-intentioned desire to not be involved in a form of ‘discursive imperialism’ could be an undesirable attitude according to Alcoff, because of its implications for the possibility of collective action and political practice. She underlines that there exist many examples in which speaking for others had great political effects, ameliorating these others’ situation.
In accentuating this, it becomes clear that Alcoff’s discussion of the problem of speaking for others is based on theoretical arguments and practical (or political) ones. The theoretical arguments have a negative function: they tackle arguments that will lead to an abstention of speaking for others. However, the practical arguments are more constructive: arguments on responsibility or political effectivity can be brought in to allow (sometimes or to some extent) the practice of speaking for others.
What follows is a discussion of Adams’s conception on speaking for others, which I deem in line with Alcoff’s argument that it is impossible to speak and not affect others. Adams’s vision adds to Alcoff’s: he further elaborates Alcoff’s ontological argument on the impossibility of speaking without affecting others. Adams stresses that we cannot fully control the ‘who’s’ of discourse: with this he means that we cannot be sure whether or not we speak for others. Importantly, Adams draws the conclusion that exactly that realization should form the starting point when examining what responsible discourse would be like.
1.3 The ‘who’ that speaks
Adams examines discourse in order to ‘find the “who” that speaks’.50
He argues that there always is a possibility that we speak for others, but that we cannot control this. Accordingly, he wants to argue against what he deems ‘tenets of “speaking for others”’. His argument is
48 Ibidem. 49 Ibidem, 17. 50
Tony E. Adams, ‘Speaking for others. Finding the “Whos” of Discourse’, Soundings. An Interdisciplinary
13
based on subject-conceptions of Martin Heidegger and Edmund Husserl, that both, albeit in a different way, underline a certain indissoluble relationality between self and others. Since I use Adams’s argumentation for my particular discussion of speaking for others I will employ Adams’s interpretation of Heidegger and Husserl.51
Firstly, Adams discusses Heidegger’s notion of the ‘they-self’. According to Heidegger, we ‘dwell in a they-self’.52
This means that our selves are always ‘Beings-with-Others’ which means that we constitute ourselves on the basis of the ideas or customs that our environment, or our culture, provides us with. As a result, we are always ‘inauthentic’ because this determining context surrounding us, hinders us in ‘realizing our ownmost potentialities’.53
This inauthenticity is not deemed negatively by Heidegger, he rather considers it a condition of life.54 Importantly, his conception of the ‘they-self’ does not deny agency – it means however that we cannot deny our being-in-the-world, which Heidegger also calls our ‘thrownness’.
Being-in-the-world means that we understand ourselves via the categories, labels or concepts that exist in our environment. Such ideas do not originate from the minds of certain individuals, but from a non-identifiable ‘they’ to which we all belong – norms are set by abstract Others. We understand ourselves via the ‘they’, but we cannot coincide with this ‘they’. Adams gives the example of the male/female-dichotomy which we generally speaking – although things are changing at the moment with regard to this topic – employ in categorizing people. If I identify as female, I use a category I have not developed myself – I make use of what is available to me, of what abstract Others provide me with. Therefore, Adams argues that ‘the “who” closest to me is the “they-self”’.55
Importantly, while we cannot use discourse without the established ideas, we can never truly grasp these ideas because we are not its sole, intentional authors.56
Secondly, Adams explains Husserl’s conception of the ‘monad’. He underlines that in comparison with Heidegger, Husserl’s conception of the subject and its relation with others displays a somewhat opposite movement of understanding: while Heidegger states that we understand ourselves via abstract Others, the ‘they-self’, Husserl actually argues that our individuality comes first. He puts forward that our understanding of the world, of others,
51 I am aware that Adams’s interpretations of Heidegger and Husserl are specific ones. It is not within the scope
of the present discussion to question these interpretations or to provide different, contesting ones. For the sake of the argument I will unambiguously follow Adams’s particular conceptions of the two philosophers’ work.
52
Adams, ‘Speaking for others’, 332.
53 Ibidem. 54 Ibidem. 55
Ibidem, 334.
14
always starts from our own specific perspective.57 Husserl understands us as ‘“constitutively interrelated monads”, internally closed off from each other, impenetrable Beings, who come together and establish communities’.58
To Husserl, our own perspective, our own perception is fundamental and primary: it shapes our understanding of the world and others – we can never grasp the other without our subjectivity coloring this portrayal. However, this does not mean that intersubjectivity cannot exist: there exist so-called ‘thereness-for-everyone’ structures in our community, ‘shared systems of meaning that make possible our interactions with and understandings of each other (such as identity categories)’.59
However, it is only our own experiences that we can truly understand, others’ remain hidden from us. When we interact with others, we make use of the communal structures, we employ certain labels and categories that our community carries with it, but our own lived experiences always influence this process.
These two subject-conceptions of Heidegger and Husserl are combined by Adams in a way that makes him draw the conclusion that when we employ discourse ‘we already speak for others’.60
According to Adams, Heidegger’s notion of the ‘they-self’ implies that whether we intend to or not, if we speak, other people can always categorize us and accordingly connect our speech acts to this category. As mentioned before, even if I explicitly declare to speak for myself only, I can never avoid that others who listen to me simultaneously categorize me as a Philosophy student and accordingly constitute a general idea of Philosophy students on the basis of my speech act.
Next, Husserl’s conception of the monad implies that we cannot completely influence others’ perception of us, since this perception is also determined by others’ specific subjectivity, constituted by their individual experiences to which we have no access. Therefore, I can be categorized by the other in a way with which I would not agree, but moreover, I could be unaware of the other’s categorization because their perception is inaccessible to me.61 This categorization by the other could result in my unintentional speaking for others. Because I do not know who I represent in the eyes of others, I might represent others without me knowing.62
The idea of an insurmountable potentiality of speaking for others, does not mean that we cannot use discourse in a responsible manner, according to Adams. We can be explicit
57 Ibidem, 335. 58 Ibidem. 59 Ibidem. 60 Ibidem, 339. 61 Ibidem, 340. 62 Ibidem.
15
about the categories we identify with and we can try to understand what different interpretations our discourse can invoke.63 Adams agrees with Alcoff that a retreat from speaking actually is a speaking too. He proposes to not bother about the question whether we speak for others or not; ‘rather, we should do our best to acknowledge when and how we (intentionally) speak for certain groups, understand ways we may harm particular communities with our communication, and realize that we can never “control” discourse and its affiliated replies’.64
1.4 Answering postmodernism
I have set out the (postmodern) problem of speaking for others. Alcoff’s and Adams’s discussion of the involved issues makes me conclude that two concepts are central for the problem: power and difference. As regards the first concept, I have exposed that the problem of speaking for others results from the conception that our situatedness bears on the perceived meaning and truth of our claims and that our situatedness is politically loaded with regard to privilege. Accordingly, mechanisms of power are at work in speech acts.
Furthermore, both Alcoff and Adams emphasize that the speaker is not the sole owner of the discourse he or she employs. Discourse’s meaning and impact depend on a variety of aspects: a speaker’s speaking position, the context of the speaking event, the multiple significations of the words and the audience’s position. Alcoff and Adams also underline the powerful nature of discourse: they understand (the use of) discourse as a creating rather than a discovering phenomenon. The problem of speaking for others, then, concerns two sorts of power: power structures between people that make for differences in social positions and the power of discourse which implies that people cannot fully control the discourse they employ.
Next, the problem of speaking for others concerns difference, that is difference between all people’s specific situations. Postmodern theory emphasizes individual particularity and the irreducibility of individuals’ experiences via (generally employed) discourse. Accordingly, the possibility of an unproblematic representation of a subject’s beliefs, ideas, or identity has been questioned; Alcoff explains that some theorists abstain from speaking for others out of respect for differences in experiences that can never be properly grasped and/or articulated by someone else.
Alcoff and Adams articulate different positions vis-à-vis speaking for others that do not exclude one another. Both of them emphasize that neither the choice for discourse nor the
63
Ibidem, 341.
16
choice for silence can be without responsibility. We are situated beings, therefore we are always involved with other people; when speaking and when not speaking, we possibly affect others. Following Gayatri Spivak, Alcoff proposes a ‘speaking to’. She agrees with Spivak who argues that the intellectual’s retreat from speaking for the oppressed implies an essentialist account of oppressed subjects, they are thought to be able to represent their own interests, not hindered by ideology. Whereas, Spivak accentuates, exactly the state of oppression points out that the experiences of the oppressed are partly determined by ideology.65 Still, Spivak is wary of the power at work in representing the other. Accordingly, she argues in favor of a ‘speaking to’ that ‘allows for the possibility that the oppressed will produce a “countersentence” that can then suggest a new historical narrative’.66
Alcoff argues that Spivak’s position thwarts the liberating possibilities for the oppressed: due to ideological mechanisms they might not be able to formulate their interests, ‘if such exist.’67
In contrast to Spivak, Alcoff emphasizes the liberating nature of a speaking event. She states that it is the act of speaking, rather than its specific content that can be liberatory. Accordingly, when this is possible, it is important that the oppressed are not spoken for, but speak themselves.68 But what if the oppressed are not heard at all, can their speaking still be considered liberatory? Would it still be better in such a situation if someone who possesses a more privileged position kept silent? No it would not, Alcoff argues. Again, political effectivity is of central importance to her. This suggests that speaking for might not be just the sole alternative in certain circumstances, it can be the best strategy; Alcoff argues that it is sometimes necessary that a ‘messenger’ advocates others’ needs if this leads to these others’ empowerment.69
Such a focus on strategy is in line with Adams’s approach to the problem. He states that there always is a possibility that we speak for others. He does encourage a responsible usage of discourse, but he argues that determining what this entails does not concern the
65
Alcoff, ‘The Problem of Speaking for Others’, 22.
66 Ibidem, 23.
Alcoff refers to Spivak’s position as ‘speaking to’. When explaining why she agrees with this position, Alcoff speaks (twice) of the ‘practice of speaking with and to’ (my italics). Alcoff does not seem to differentiate between speaking with and to; both seem to concern the same practice that involves interaction and dialogue. To avoid confusion, I will call the practice of interaction and dialogue Alcoff adheres to, a ‘speaking to’.
67 Ibidem. 68 Ibidem. 69 Ibidem, 29.
Since Alcoff bases her position largely on Spivak’s, I have chosen not to extensively discuss Spivak’s views in this chapter, nor in the fourth chapter in which the postcolonial perspective on the public intellectual and speaking for others is further elaborated. Instead, I will discuss Fanon’s and Said’s perspectives on these questions in the fourth chapter, for their emphases differ from Alcoff’s (and thus Spivak’s) and therefore add to the present discussion.
17
question whether we do or do not speak for others. His position follows from a specific conception on the relation between the individual and others. This position is in accordance with the postmodern idea of the irreducibility of the individual experience. However, Adams’s ideas do not focus on the individual. Rather, he focusses on the interaction of individuals; together, individuals constitute larger social entities via which they understand each other. Individuals are both part of a totality, but cannot be reduced to this totality.
Adams’s position displays a focus on human interconnectedness, or our relationality, but he is not explicit about this. Literary theorist Jane Hiddleston has explicitly conceptualized an idea of relationality which I deem insightful in the present discussion on the role of the public intellectual and speaking for others. Interconnectedness or relationality forms a model that grasps both individual alterity and the collective; therefore, it could be a guiding principle when speaking for others.
Hiddleston argues that recently, the concept or idea of ‘community’ has been rejected in French philosophical and literary writing. Instead, it is ‘anomaly, singularity and incommensurability’ that is emphasized. The idea of a collective is disregarded for it would fail to do justice to individual perspectives.70 Hiddleston explains the implications of such a theoretical position: on the one hand, it encourages a deconstruction of the (false) idea of a homogeneous community. On the other hand however, it privileges individual alterity to such an extent that it possibly ‘reinforces marginalization rather than exploring relational or interactive structures.’71
Hiddleston transcends the dichotomy between the individual and the community by focusing on how the singular and the collective interact with each other, that is, by focusing on relationality.72 She underlines that such a relationality is apparent in language: ‘Linguistic idioms announce their specificity and uniqueness, but they also arise from a process of engagement with plural collective systems, combining influences from diverse sources rather than originating from a single linguistic source.’73
The latter is reminiscent of the Heideggerian ‘they-self’ or Husserlian ‘monadic intersubjectiviy’, for it combines a shared structure, or a totality, with an awareness of irreducible (individual) alterity. As I shall show in the next chapter, Sartre’s notion of the ‘singular universal’ concerns a similar combination.
70
Jane Hiddleston, Reinventing Community. Identity and Difference in Late Twentieth-Century Philosophy and
Literature in French (London 2005) 1.
71 Ibidem, 4. 72
Ibidem.
18
Interestingly, Sartre applies his notion of the ‘singular universal’ to both individual humans and language too.
A focus on relationality could be relevant when articulating the role of the public intellectual for it transcends the dichotomy between singularity and collectivity. As I argued, a narrow focus on singularity hinders speaking up on practices or problems that do not directly concern the self. On the other hand, just as Hiddleston remarks that the idea of a collective could presuppose an illusory homogeneous unity (which would fail to do justice to individual alterity), I would argue that the so-called ‘universal intellectual’ who makes general claims without examining specific situations, would fail to grasp others’ situations or problems.
Relationality emphasizes what individuals have in common: their interconnectedness. This shared condition could be a basis to speak up on others’ issues. While acknowledging that individual particularity might be impossible to grasp, it becomes clear that our discourse as well as our actions always concern and affect others. Alcoff’s position could be supported by an argument of relationality. Alcoff emphasizes that it could be necessary to speak for others, when such a means would be the most effective one as regards others’ oppression. The concept of relationality shows that both silence and discourse affect others; when the oppressed are not heard, it could be the right strategy to speak up on behalf of them – importantly however, while being constantly aware of the impossibility to truly grasp their experience as such.
An understanding of the problem of speaking for others, its aspects of power and difference and the idea of human relationality provide two central guidelines when exploring the role of the public intellectual. Firstly, the intellectual should be aware that she or he can never grasp an individual experience by the usage of (a generally shared) discourse – accordingly, she or he should always formulate cautiously, well aware her or his own fallibility as well as the power of discourse, plus she or he should be as explicit as possible about her or his own social position. Secondly, the idea of a human condition of relationality can form the incentive to take responsibility with regard to others and their position: intellectuals should be aware that individual acts and discourse impact the lives of others. Accordingly, they can act and speak up in a responsible way – mindful of the effects they can have on others’ situation – and in doing so, be an example for other people.
If we regard relationality as an incentive to take responsibility, it is rather unavoidable to (re)introduce a general moral basis, that is, a basis which can be applied in different situations and which applies to different people, despite their specific alterity. Taking responsibility requires a moral framework, ideas on how to behave justly or properly with
19
regard to others. Thus, relationality enables or rather requires a formulation of a general moral basis. Although she is not explicit about it, Alcoff adheres to such a moral basis too, since she allows a speaking for when this will enable an empowerment of the oppressed. Moral bases are of rather universal nature; in Alcoff’s case, empowerment is every individual’s ‘right’.
Importantly, when we formulate a general moral basis we should be cautious not to forget about difference that results from the irreducibility of individual alterity or individual experiences. I therefore propose to envision a moral basis that is ‘as minimal’ or ‘as empty’ as possible: it should display respect for differences. Such a basis balances between universality and specificity, between a general and a local level. For example, if ‘freedom’ is our moral principle, this should be an ‘empty freedom’ that can be adjusted to various local levels and individual experiences. Interestingly, Sartre’s concept of the singular universal shows a similar balance between the universal and the local, or specific. I will proceed with discussing Sartre’s conception of the public intellectual and the problem of speaking for others, that relate to this notion of the singular universal.
20
2. Lived philosophy
The ‘early Sartre’ should be considered a socio-professional intellectual, someone who ‘creates and communicates cultural values’, according to scholar David Drake – Sartre could not yet be considered a political intellectual.74 This follows from the fact that Sartre did not play an active role in the public sphere with regard to political issues before the Second World War – which was in contrast with many intellectuals of that time. Drake nevertheless attributes commitment of a theoretical kind to Sartre, actually confirming that Sartre ‘lived’ his philosophy. Since he theorized modern man’s absolute freedom, he seemed to live with respect to this condition by remaining an independent, non-aligned writer.75
As said, Sartre’s ideas on his own role as an intellectual changed during the war, his engagement became of both theoretical and practical nature. Sartre’s commitment was not restricted to national issues only, he was especially outspoken about the anticolonial struggle, writing for instance the preface to Frantz Fanon’s The Wretched of the Earth.76
Together with
other intellectuals such as Simone de Beauvoir and Maurice Merleau-Ponty he published the journal Les temps modernes. In its first volume in 1945, Sartre advocated engagement to his fellow writers. Drake underscores that Sartre’s political interventions were numerous in the following decades: next to his ardent writing of books and articles, he gave public interviews and engaged in political discussions; it is probable that no other intellectual signed as many manifestos as Sartre.77
In his work What is Literature?, which comprises four essays that were first published separately in Les temps modernes, Sartre examined the being of literature as well as the role of the writer, or more broadly speaking the intellectual. He formulated his ideas along the lines of responsibility: ‘we must take up a position in our literature, because literature is in essence a taking of position’.78
As said, Sartre’s conception of the writer/public intellectual changed over the years. Historian Ronald Aronson explains that by the end of the fifties Sartre
74 David Drake, ‘Sartre. Intellectual of the Twentieth Century’, Sartre Studies International 9 (2003) 29-39, 30. 75 Ibidem, 31.
76 I will discuss The Wretched of the Earth with regard to the present discussion in the fourth chapter. 77
Ibidem, 33.
78 Sartre, What is Literature, 214.
In Representations of the Intellectual Said calls Sartre’s What is Literature? ‘his credo as an intellectual’. Said argues that in this work Sartre speaks of the writer in such a way that its conceptualization applies to an intellectual in a more broader sense. I will follow Said in this.
21
no longer adhered to the ambitious claims he had expounded in Les temps modernes. In a 1959 interview he said that literary action ‘doesn’t produce the effect you wanted to obtain.’79
In 1960 Sartre published his Critique of Dialectical Reason in which he set out a critical political theory closer to Marxist thought than his earlier Being and Nothingness since it was less concerned with individual consciousness, and more with lived experience (le vécu) and praxis.80 Importantly, Sartre opposed Marxist theory that was of an idealistic or dogmatic nature; he urged a ‘critical dialectics’.81
In CDR Sartre examined society as a practice and he explained that human practice is never purely individual.82 To grasp the individual we should understand the society that surrounds him, too. However, the notion of individual moral responsibility was kept alive, regardless of Sartre’s more communal thinking.83
CDR displays Sartre’s theoretical turn to praxis and le vécu – a development that also
changed his ideas on the intellectual, as Plaidoyer pour les intellectuels shows. This work comprises a tripartite lecture series Sartre held in Japan in which he discussed the public intellectual’s role. Sartre, as the embodiment of the engaged writer, is easily caricatured.84
Importantly, this stereotypical image is probably based on some of the theses of WL.85 To go beyond these easy (and false) stereotypes, I will reread Sartre’s ideas on literature and engagement by examining PI: I will first treat the content of the lecture series and discuss some of its important implications. Subsequently, I will examine the lectures’ content with regard to Alcoff’s problem of speaking for others, after which I will examine whether a rereading of Sartre could be relevant for the present discussion on the role of the public intellectual and speaking for others.
2.1 Plaidoyer pour les intellectuels
The first lecture answers the question ‘What is an intellectual?’, the second discusses the function of the intellectual and in the third Sartre examines whether the writer is an intellectual. I will show that it is especially the third lecture that provides relevant insights for the present discussion. To answer the first question, ‘What is an intellectual?’, Sartre
79 Sartre, quoted in: Ronald Aronson, ‘Sartre and the Radical Intellectual’s Role’, Science and Society 39 (1975)
436-449, 440.
80 From now on Critique of Dialectal Reason will be abbreviated to CDR. 81 Welten, ‘De terugkeer’, 19.
82 Ruud Welten, ‘Broederschap en terreur. 1960-1980’, in: Ruud Welten ed., Sartre. Een hedendaagse inleiding
(Kampen 2005) 115-126, 115.
83
Flynn, ‘Introduction. Sartre at One Hundred – a Man of the Nineteenth Century Addressing the Twenty-First’, 6.
84 Richard de Brabander, ‘Literair engagement. Het onmededeelbare meedelen’, in: Ruud Welten ed., Sartre. Een
hedendaagse inleiding (Kampen 2005) 91-102, 91.
22
discusses two accusations that are made against intellectuals; they would interfere in businesses that do not regard them and they do this in the name of an abstract idea: a universal conception of man and society.86 Sartre argues that this first accusation is correct – however, he finds this the appropriate task for an intellectual. In contrast, the second accusation applies only to what Sartre calls the ‘false intellectual’, because in today’s unequal societies universal claims are made by so-called intellectuals in such a way that the particularistic ideology they serve, is masked – it is the true intellectual’s job to become aware of this false universality and disclose it.
Intellectuals, both the ‘false’ and ‘true’ types, share a few characteristics according to Sartre. The intellectual is a ‘technicien du savoir pratique’: he possesses particular skills and knowledge that serve the specific society the intellectual lives in.87 Next, the intellectual is ‘recruited from above’.88
He does not belong to the dominant class, but he is ‘designated’ by this elite. Importantly, the intellectual’s education is of both ideological and technical nature. Sartre explains that the intellectual therefore performs two roles: not only is he educated to function as a specialist in his specific field of knowledge, which is supposed to serve society as a whole, he simultaneously is a ‘fonctionnaire des super-structures’ to speak in Gramscian terms; he reproduces the elite’s traditions, their hegemonic values.89
The ideological role shows that the intellectual’s universality is false; Sartre calls him an ‘agent d’un
particularisme idéologique’. The selection of intellectuals is based upon class differences; it is
the bourgeoisie that produces today’s intellectuals, someone from the working class would not likely be selected.90
According to Sartre, the intellectual recognizes three contradictions in his particular role which provides him with a (Hegelian)‘conscience malheureuse’.91 Firstly, the intellectual becomes aware of his own privileged position for he realizes that the so-called humanist ideas he has been brought up with have no universal applicability. The intellectual is taught that all men are equal, yet he realizes through his own specific function and knowledge that such
86 Sartre, Plaidoyer pour les intellectuels, 12. 87 Ibidem, 25-26.
Importantly, when writing about the (public) intellectual I will refer to a ‘him’ and speak of ‘he’ and ‘his’ in this chapter and the following two. Although – without doubt – both women and men can be (and are) intellectuals, I will use male pronouns in this chapter on Sartre and the following two on Foucault, Fanon and Said. Since these four theorists only refer to ‘he’, ‘him’ and ‘his’ when speaking about the public intellectual, I will follow them in this when discussing their ideas and positions. Importantly, in the introduction as well as in the conclusion I will write ‘she or he’ and ‘her or his’ when writing about intellectuals, to underline that I refer to both women and men. 88 Ibidem, 25. 89 Ibidem, 27. 90 Ibidem, 28-29. 91 Ibidem, 37.
23
equality is fictitious in the society he lives in.92 Secondly, he comes to understand that the bourgeois ideology he serves is not of universal, but of particularistic nature; his undertakings do not serve humanity as a whole, only certain classes benefit from them. Intellectuals are mystified by the dominant classes from childhood onwards. Their supposed ‘universalism’ or
‘égalitarisme menteur’, actually hides exploiting practices of for example colonialism.93
Thirdly, the intellectual becomes aware that his own labor serves particular interests, instead of the common good. Sartre takes the example of the doctor: educated to heal people, he can heal all (a universal task). In reality however, it is not all men he serves, only specific groups. Therefore, the intellectual is an ‘agent de paupérisation’, he (possibly involuntarily) contributes to the exploitation or discrimination of the oppressed.94
When the intellectual recognizes these contradictions he has to make a choice, which separates the true intellectual from the false one. The latter accepts the elite’s ideology which makes him apolitical. This means that he lives in bad faith; he reproduces an ideology, falsely regarded as universal, which comes down to collaborating to oppression. The true intellectual realizes that the bourgeois, oppressive ideology should be challenged; that the contradictions should be unveiled, both to himself and to society as a whole. He refuses to serve a particularistic ideology that does not benefit all men.95 How exactly would the intellectual become aware of these contradictions; is it possible that the ideology surrounding him prevents him from ‘discovering’ the contradictions? If the contradictions are not recognized as such, Sartre would not consider this ‘technicien’ an intellectual.
In the second lecture Sartre examines the intellectual’s function. Like in the first lecture, but with even more emphasis, Sartre’s focus lies with contradiction and dialectical mechanisms – the theses of CDR are apparent. Sartre calls the intellectual the most ‘bereft’ of all men: neither the dominant class nor the oppressed wholeheartedly support the intellectual’s task.96
The intellectual does not possess the elite’s power and it is his very job to challenge the elite’s self-enriching ideology: it is clear why he does not belong to the dominant class and cannot count on its support. However, despite the intellectual’s attempt to take the side of the oppressed, to fight for the improvement of their fate, he cannot escape his own bourgeois origins which inevitably raises suspicion among the oppressed classes.97
92 Ibidem, 29. 93 Ibidem, 32. 94 Ibidem, 34-35. 95 Ibidem, 38-41. 96 Ibidem, 44, 45 and 64. 97 Ibidem, 64-65.
24
However, Sartre underscores that the intellectual should take the point of view of the oppressed to understand society.98 Their very existence proves that the supposedly ‘universal’ values and truths of the dominant classes are in fact a particularistic ideology. Sartre calls the point of view of the oppressed their ‘intelligence objective’ that produces a ‘pensée
populaire’. Whether the oppressed choose to challenge exploitative mechanisms or not (that
is, regardless of their political choices) they possess this intelligence objective by their very position in society. Taking this point of view is problematic for the intellectual for a few reasons.
Firstly, Sartre argues, it is impossible that an individual of the oppressed class, who possesses this pensée populaire, becomes an intellectual: he simply lacks the elite’s capital for a proper formation.99 Furthermore, if the elite chooses an ‘exploité’ to become one of their technicians, this man is nog longer part of the oppressed class. Secondly, if a bourgeois intellectual tries to side with the oppressed, he will probably face mistrust which Sartre deems
‘à juste titre’ – the intellectual could be accused of the following: ‘Comment osez-vous prétendre, vous, petits-bourgeois ayant reçu la culture bourgeoise dès l’enfance et vivant dans les classes moyennes, représenter l’esprit objectif des classes travailleuses avec qui vous n’avez pas de contacts et qui ne veulent pas de vous?’100
There is a contradiction then in the
very being of the intellectual: for taking the right point of view, that of the oppressed, one must actually not be an intellectual to begin with.101 According to Sartre, the intellectual should not take this contradiction as a reason to abstain from speaking up and doing his job. It is vital however that the intellectual is aware of his own contradictory position.
It is up to the intellectual to examine the contradictions that characterize both himself and society at large – that are inextricably connected to one another. Sartre underscores that the intellectual is not someone who knows, but someone who searches. He should be on a constant look-out to disclose particularistic truths and values that are veiled as universal.102 This research concerns two objects that are intrinsically related: the intellectual should understand himself as situated in a specific society, as its product, and this means that he should understand society. He should constantly take these two points of view, that of the self and society. Sartre sets out what the intellectual’s research comprises. I will lay out some of its aspects that are relevant for our present discussion.
98
Ibidem, 61.
99 Ibidem, 63-64.
100 Ibidem, 64-65, Sartre’s italics. 101
Ibidem, 65.
