A few
fortuitous signs of significance occurred on my last blog. I used the word "inauguration" as a title to begin my blog, out of a whim.
I thought an investigation into the concept of inauguration would help us think about Derrida's project of deconstruction. Can we use this concept as a case study? I hope this blog becomes an opportunity to elucidate ways in which we can use and apply a deconstructionist methodology.
The Online Etymology Dictionary tells us that "inauguration" comes from the Latin
inaugurationem, "consecration, installment under good omens," which is a noun of action from the stem of
inaugurare "take omens from the flight of birds; consecrate or install when such omens are favorable," from in- "on, in" see in- +
augurare "to act as an augur, predict".
http://www.etymonline.com/index.php?term=inauguration&allowed_in_frame=0
Out of complete chance, I randomly (fortuitously) picked for my blog's designs a flight of birds that you can see on the top-right portion of my blog. [What was Aristotle's words for luck and chance in his Physics?]
As Wikipedia explains (scholarly source that it is), in the classical world an
augur was a priest who would interpret the will of the gods by studying the flight of birds. The ceremony was known as "taking the auspices," and the founding of a city only took place only after the taking the auspices. In this article they quote Livy's description of a ritual of inauguration for king Numa Pompilius. "The augur asks Jupiter: "
Si fas est (i.e. if it is divine justice to do this)... send me a certain signum (sign)", then the augur listed the
auspicia he wanted to see coming."
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Augur
I merely note the importance of the
signum here.
I think this relates directly to acts of reading which are encouraged by Derrida. It relates to the demands we make on signs and texts and the crucial function of the future/l'avenir for establishing expectations and responsi[
a]bilities (I could not help this coinage--see "exergue") with texts.
What do we expect from this reading group? What are its auspices? I believe each of us has his or her own auspices for what is to come about from this group. The curious thing about reading groups is that it always entails discussing a text that is already read. But it is through our contact with the Other, with our companions, and their differences of thought, that we expect to see a change happen to the text. Who is that Other who will come to lift meaning out of obscurity. In the Catholic tradition, the Bible as a authority is at an equal authority with the Magisterium of the Catholic Church, i.e., with its teaching. Protestantism functions to break out of this authority, granting subjectivity (the Self) authority in dredging up meaning from the Book. I think for Derrida it's not through the Self that we discover meaning in a text; rather, it is through the Other.
Derrida once made a distinction (at the beginning of the documentary Derrida) between the future and l'avenir.
"In general, I try to distinguish between what one calls the future and "l'avenir." The future is that which--tomorrow, later, next century--will be. There's a future that is predictable, programmed, scheduled, foreseeable. But there is a future, l'avenir (to come), which refers to someone who comes whose arrival is totally unexpected. For me, that is the real future. That which is totally unpredictable. The Other who comes without my being able to anticipate their arrival. So if there is a real future beyond this other known future, it's l'avenir in that it's the coming of the Other when I am completely unable to forsee their arrival."
(p. 53 of screenplay of the film, published as Screenplay and Essays on the Film Derrida by Gil Kofman).
In a conference Derrida once gave marking the inauguration of the Doctoral philosophy program at Villanova University (transcript found in Deconstruction in a Nutshell), Derrida explains the implications of "inauguration":
"Inauguration is the theme today. Inauguration is a "yes." I say "yes" as a starting point. Nothing precedes the "yes." The "yes" is the moment of institution, of the origin; it is absolutely originary. But when you say "yes," you imply that in the next moment you will have to confirm the "yes" by a second "yes." When I say "yes," I immediately say "yes, yes." I commit myself to confirm my commitment in the next second, and then tomorrow, and then the day after tomorrow. That means that a "yes" immediately duplicates itself, doubles itself. You cannot say "yes" without saying "yes, yes." That implies memory in that promise. I promise to keep the memory of the first "yes." In a wedding, for instance, or in a promise, when you say "yes, I agree," "I will," you imply "I will say 'I will' tomorrow," and "I will confirm my promise"; otherwise there is no promise. That means that the "yes" keeps in advance the memory of its own beginning, and that is the way traditions work. If, tomorrow, you do not confirm that today you have founded your program, there will not have been any inauguration. Tomorrow, perhaps next year, perhaps twenty years from now, you will know whether today there has been an inauguration. We do not know that yet. We pretend that today we are inaugurating something. But who knows? We will see."
(p. 27)
Inauguration is something that has to be reinvented everyday, perhaps at every moment. We don't know how this inauguration of this reading group will go. We'll see. Time will tell. Much depends on the promises we make as readers and the memory of those promises.
--mg