Michel Foucault’s analysis of Rene Magritte Ceci n’est pas une pipe goes far beyond observations of his technique in tromp l’oeil. The paintings circulate, to Foucault, as visually and conceptually loaded calligrams. Like the visual poems of Apollinare, which consist of words arranged to form a picture of the topic described, Magritte calls attention to how the signifier can invoke the signified. In Les deux mystères,, the viewer is confronted with two objects—a shadow-y, hovering pipe and a framed canvas. On the framed canvas is a realistically rendered pipe and underneath it a written script saying, “Ceci n’est pas une pipe (This is not a pipe).â€
The statement seems pretty ludicrous at the outset. Of course it’s a pipe. But then the postmodern in us kickstarts and a cloud of dust obscures that clarity of mind. What does “this†refer to exactly? The first obvious reference is the pipe which is depicted as a painted rendering of a pipe. Not a real pipe. It could also be the slightly ambiguous, gravity-defying pipe which seems to be just the shapely ideal of a pipe. Not a real pipe. It could also refer to the words themselves. These words strung together are not a pipe. The individual words “this†and “pipe†are not real pipes. None of these depicted objects, we realize, ever could be painted and be real at the same time. But moreover, if we suspend disbelief in the painting as a window into a real space, these are simulacra that do not even resemble a theoretical original.
Foucault reasons that, in resemblance, there is a “model†or original to which the copies are representatively faithful. Magritte’s painting refutes the existence of such a thing. Similitude exists among all the versions of pipe, but there is no authentic resemblance to a pipe. This is a fascinating differentiation to make. It calls into question the authority and power of words and images to adequately express our intent. It reminds us that symbols are not ubiquitous representations—they are fragile, elusive, and remitting.
What troubled me about Foucault’s synopsis was his very negative characterization. Without resemblance, signs are “gravestones†under which meaning is “annulled.†The signified are “divorced from what they name,†and the signifier can “never replace what it describes.†Foucault seems to be treating language somewhat like a stillborn—it grew in our bellies but was and is incapable of ever being alive. Personally, I don’t think language tries or needs to emulate actual objects, which is somewhat amazing. How do we come to grasp and communicate abstract ideas when there is no literal object they correspond to? This is part of the efficiency of language as well. Words don’t have to look like their object in order for us to convey and understand meaning with one another quickly.
If language is so fatally flawed, how am I able to write this at all?
In Thomas Hobbes’s Leviathan, he postulates the ideal political state as the ultimate sovereign, government as prime authority, patriarch, great arbiter. In a Hobbesian state, the government is more, much more, than the sum of its parts. Hobbes justifies his leviathan of a state because of his notion of the “state of nature,†that theoretical situation in which humans are measured by their innate tendencies. Because humans are primarily selfish, Hobbes concludes, the state of nature would lead to a life “solitary, poor, nasty, brutish and short.†The only solution, then, is a strong government, one with such overwhelming power that its subjects are afraid to step out of line and
must act in the interests of the whole.
Hobbes’s government makes a certain amount of sense: people want stuff, and they want it for themselves, and they want a lot of it, and they want it now. That’s an obvious formula for conflict.
As you can imagine, kings thought this was a pretty neat idea: they could rule with an iron fist and be justified by not just the church, but by science as well. However, having thrown out kingship, you’d think we Americans would have severe problems with Hobbes. Self governance implies that people are good, or at least have a capacity to know not just what’s right for themselves, but
enough of what’s right for the whole that they can vote responsibly in a plebiscite. Further, we think we’re good enough to be left to our own devices for most things and not cause problems for others – a sort of benign selfishness. We get a lot of these ideas from John Locke, who critiqued
Hobbes’ notion of governance at the level of the state of nature. He’s where we get the idea of people having the right to, as he put it, “life, liberty and property,†modified by Thomas Jefferson in the Declaration of Independence as “life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.â€
But in a practical way we’re conflicted about all this. We like the idea of governing ourselves – and that the government, as such, is the problem – but at the same time we want a government that actually does help out when we lose our jobs or crime gets bad or a flood wipes out our houses or when we want to keep our ‘69 Camaro in the divorce settlement. At the same time, we
want a government we can believe in (maybe more than we want one that actually governs). We want a government that will provide cavalcades of snapping flags and marble buildings and big, loud bombers with which to flex our muscle overseas.
In other words, we think Locke, but we feel Hobbes.
Maybe both views are a little skewed. Maybe our ambivalence comes from our inability to see our government for what it is: not more than the sum of its parts but less – not the overarching power, but the underlying one.
A democracy, even one as indirect as our own, exists to serve the people. Our constitution does not free us; in fact it details the way in which our power is limited. But it does so in very limited ways, in order to protect our self-determination from itself, to protect “we the People†from the lesser parts of our natures that so worried Hobbes. All other rights, privileges, decisions,
aspirations, needs, goals, what-have-you, are expressly left up to us as individuals to pursue. Government, rather than concerning itself with these higher aspects of our natures, rightfully concerns itself with the lower ones. Those things that tend to raise the quality of human life like the expression of faith, ideas, art, science, are free to be exercised. Those things that tend to
degrade human life are addressed through the law: lack of security, conflict, problems in trade and commerce, more arguably lack of food and shelter. Those things that make us more we are free to pursue. Those that make us less the government is there to help fix. Humanity, in a democracy, is more important than government.
Indeed, the idea that a democracy in any real form is more than its parts suggests a certain animism, which, not to disparage animism, is pure nonsense, and, in certain circles, idolatry. That this system of government requires neither heavenly fiat nor state-sponsored brutality is its great
strength: its very secularism is what allows those within it to seek the spirit as the spirit moves them. Power does not devolve to the people; the government devolves from the people’s power. So while we are right to periodically get upset and “throw the bums out,†we also have to remember that they’re our bums; they’re our responsibility. At the same time, we can’t be afraid
to let the government do what we need it to do, like feed the poor or curtail the growing power of our corporations. We should respect a tool (and government is a powerful one), but if we fear it, we can’t get it to do much work for us. Last, we should not let that power get in the way of others’ rights to pursue their own happiness, even if we disagree with what that means. Even if one disagrees with homosexuals who want to marry, it’s hard to deny the genuineness of that
desire.
It’s high time we stopped blaming government and started owning it.
How about a National Day of Mourning for Ray Charles?
“Now today as you prepare to leave your Alma Mater, you go into a world in which, due to our carelessness and apathy, a great many of our freedoms have been lost. It isn’t that an outside enemy has taken them. It’s just that there is something inherent in government which makes it, when it isn’t controlled, continue to grow.”
- Ronald Reagan, 1957 commencement address to Eureka College
That was back when being a conservative meant small government and low taxes. Now conservative means imposition of evangelical and/or fundamental Christian morality, and low taxes while fighting unwinnable wars against vague nouns like terror, drugs, and civil liberties. Oh, and but torture’s legal now — if you’re in the executive branch at least.
According to a 2003 Telegraph article, “As Cofer Black, the former head of the CIA’s counter-intelligence centre, says: ‘ . . . Let’s just say this. There was before 9/11 and there is after 9/11. After 9/11 the gloves came off.’” We know — we’ve seen the safe for American television post-Janet Jackson’s breast pictures. What horrors haven’t been uncovered yet?