Famous for Being Famous for Being Famous
And now back to the cult. Because the cult is interesting, cultishness is interesting, and above all, this kind of hyperbolic giddy gushing cultishness in people who (to all appearances) pride themselves above all on critical thinking, on looking closely at rhetoric, on peering behind the screen, on criticising ‘philosophical presumptions,’ on knowing ‘how to read’ – is so interesting as to be almost hypnotic.
So, here we are at the London Review of Books and here is Judith Butler Superstar again, writing about Derrida again.
First there are two paragraphs of resounding banalities. Then we start the third:
It is surely uncontroversial to say that Jacques Derrida was one of the greatest philosophers of the 20th century; his international reputation far exceeds that of any other French intellectual of his generation. More than that, his work fundamentally changed the way in which we think about language, philosophy, aesthetics, painting, literature, communication, ethics and politics.
Noooo, it’s not uncontroversial at all. As ‘surely’ Butler must know. Unless she just really never does read anything or talk to anyone at all outside the world of ‘theory’? But even then you would think whispers would have got through. So why does she say that? To try to convince, presumably. It is surely uncontroversial to say that up is down. Right. And then no sooner are we past the uncontroversial bit and the ‘one of the greatest’ bit, than we get to the real clincher – the obsession of the theory crowd – his reputation. Okay, so this is what I don’t get. Reputation. Fame, renown, notoriety, superstardom, being heard of. Wouldn’t you think that this whole business of ‘fame,’ of who decides it, where it comes from, how it is conferred, what we’re doing when we talk about it, why we think it matters, how we measure it, how we use it to impress or convince or flatter or self-flatter; what a contemporary obsession it is, how new the resources are for creating it, how that influences the way we think about various things; wouldn’t you think that sort of thing would be exactly the kind of thing that self-described ‘theorists’ would be keen to interrogate and examine and re-think? To be, in short, a little distanced and detached and critical and skeptical of? Wouldn’t you? Above all, wouldn’t you think they would be interested in how very socially constructed it is? How the opposite of self-evident or ‘natural’ it is? And above all above all, wouldn’t you think it would occur to her that that international reputation is in fact the creation of people like her endlessly talking about Derrida’s international reputation? They create his fame in the very act of talking about it so obsessively. He’s ‘famous’ in the sense that he gets mentioned a lot, by the people who mention him a lot, because he’s so famous. It could hardly be any more tightly circular and self-enforcing.
So there you have it – one of the great ironies of our time. People who think they’re experts on challenging ‘philosophical presumptions’ who yet go in for such gormless fame-worship and deification. Very odd indeed.
But if EVERYTHING is socially constructed, how else do we determine a philospher’s worth EXCEPT by his/her fame, renown, and notoriety?
Well, what about how pretty & sexy he/she is? Surely that would do as well.
I don’t think we’d have very many “good” philosophers using that standard, OB.
So…”Pretty & Sexy” is our new philosophy standard, eh? I’ve read that Bertrand “Pipestem” Russell got a lot of action from young philosophy groupies, although I myself never found him all that sexy. How about Susanne Langer–is she babelicious enough for Eric and Karl?
Does that mean that David Hume became a less worthwhile philosopher over the course of his life as he grew increasingly rotund? Then again, some women like a man with a little more substance to him (he says hopefully, contemplating his own sitting-and-dissertating expansion). So perhaps philosophical worth judged by hotness is as purely subjective as fame? Alas…
Yeah I’ve heard that about Slim Bertie too. And that’s good because he also was very very famous. His rep, as Butler might put it in her perspicacious way, far exceeded that of any other UK intellectual of his generation. I mean like just really a lot of people had heard of him. More than anyone else. More than Lytton Strachey or Moore or anyone. He was way famous. He had like really good name recognition. That’s probably why the groupies were so keen.
Whoops, cross.
Hmm. Well but Hume had that lovely waistcoat. I think that made up for the rotundity. At least the babes in France always called him le bon David. That’s probably why Rousseau was so pissed at him. Nobody called him le bon Jean-Jacques, and they wouldn’t have sex with him, either.
Well, if we’re talking about fame, reputation, and sheer personal charisma, L. Wittgenstein is the 20th-century philosopher to beat. Plus, he was pretty damn handsome in a brooding Heathcliff kind of way. Hey, if I bent that direction, I’d be his groupie in a heartbeat. Oh well. Maybe I could hook up with that Elizabeth Anscombe chick. But I’d need to see a pic of “Suzy Q.” Langer first, before I decide.
Why has nobody picked up on the comment about Derrida’s reputation being greater than other French intellectuals, as if this meant anything outside France and a few American liberal arts courses.
Karl: Wittgenstein! How could I have forgotten such a dreamboat? He’s mighty famous as a philosopher. He has been mentioned TWICE on “The Simpsons,” which is truly a sign that one has arrived. Neither Derrida nor Foucault has achieved this epochal distinction.
John: Because we aren’t as perceptive as you. And it means something because the French they are la creme de la creme of intellectuals, so if Derrida is the most famous of all the French, then he is la creme de la creme de la creme. And that’s mighty damn impressive.
So true about Witters. [sigh] That strong jaw, that steely look, those ferocious lips. And then he loved movies, and there was the poker thing, and the Norway thing, and the tortured love of men thing – oh it’s all just irresistible, isn’t it. How come nobody’s made a movie about him? I mean to say, we had Carrington, we had Tom and Viv – why not Ludo? If the sex lives of Lytton Strachey and T S Eliot are considered hot box office, how can the movie people overlook the dear Viennese engineer who gave away his inheritance, moved to an inaccessible hut in Norway, beat up schoolchildren, told all his students to do manual labor instead – tsk! A movie about him would put Titanic in the shade.
Diogenes Laertius would be soooo jealous.
I think there already is a film on Wittgenstein – written by Terry Eagleton and directed by Derek Jarman sometiem in the 80s – obv it is just waiting to be remade by Joel Schumacker…
You could make a nice little playlet out of the poker evening. Alan Bennett should do it. Or Michael Frayn. Or both. Jeremy Irons as Wittgenstein (Kafka, Wittgenstein, whatever). Brad Pitt as Popper.
If you keep reading after the full stop they placed after “generation”, it looks like there’s another sentence there, and it might be about the reasons why Butler considers Derrida to be important that have nothing to do with reputation.
Happy, as always, to help.
True. But the fact remains that she thought the reputation thing was worth trying. That she does rely on a kind of argument from fame that is really very silly. Not unlike the argument in our Letters – there are more books by Derrida on bookshop philosophy shelves than there are books by Leiter. Yes, and there are more books by Ayn Rand there, too; so?
Big deal. Dr. Phil McGraw has written more books than Derrida and Ayn Rand put together. And he’s sold more, too. And he’s got his own TV show, and he gets to interview both the Bushes and the Kerrys on network primetime. So he’s more famous and more popular and more influential than Derrida and Ayn Rand could ever hope to be. How come Judith Butler doesn’t teach her students about Phil McGraw? What is she, some kind of elitist?
Wull exactly. The argument from fame is such an idiotic argument that one would think ‘theorists’ would be able to interrogate it without our help. But apparently not.