I don't know if I would call this a profound book about Marx, but that's not to say that there is no profundity to be found here. Ultimately, this work may be more revealing about its own author, but Derrida is himself a worthy subject.
Based on a plenary address Derrida gave at a UC Riverside conference entitled “Whither Marxism?” in 1993, Derrida performs close-readings of passages from three of Marx's texts; “The German Ideology,” “Capital, Volume 1,” and the Manifesto. He relates Marx's writings to those of Shakespeare, particularly in their shared enthusiasm for super-natural imagery. Both writers' pages are filled with mentions of ghosts and specters. One can quickly imagine why ghosts would intrigue Derrida- neither fully alive nor dead, they problematize our bifurcation of life and death. This work, like almost all of Derrida's oeuvre, is ultimately most concerned with how to acknowledge the Other in its full otherness, the ultimate “other” being the ghost, being the dead that haunt us.
In his preface, Derrida asks what it is to “learn to live.” One cannot, surely, learn it simply on one's own, but to learn to live from the dictations of an absolutely present other sounds like slavery. To learn, then, is to interpret, to take from the other's example and make such practice one's own. The other, then, can only be freeing (and free) if it remains not entirely present. And one can only learn to live as a semi-presence because learning to live is learning to die. To learn to live (die) we must learn to live with ghosts, with the past that we will become in the future. To be free, to be just to ourselves (in the future), we must be just to those who have died, arrived at our future, in the past.
Derrida says that in discussing Marx, Marxism, and the Communist movement, we must think of ourselves as sifting through an inheritance. We are discovering what Marx has left for us. An inheritance becomes “one” only by acknowledging itself as a collection of disparate elements. Derrida celebrates Marx for his understanding of his future, his acknowledgment that his thought would not survive time without transformation. Almost a kind of historical perspectivalist, Marx knew his thought would have to transform and disperse with different economic-historical changes. He knew, as Derrida puts it, that his death would disperse his identity, making him both less and more than one, a swirl of ghosts, haunting different historical and social situations. The task of discovering our inheritance from Marx then, is to transform Marx's legacy through interpretation.
Jumping into his lecture, Derrida notes the specters that inaugurate both the Manifesto and “Hamlet”. The specter is, of course, neither fully present nor absent. It is a presence of absence. Yet, it is an absent “one”. It is not simply death, but the Dead One: a King, or Communism. This is an identity we must take entirely on the word of the ghost. We cannot identity the specter. It proclaims its identity to us (“I am your father's spirit!”).
Through its self-identification, the specter makes the work of morning impossible. Morning both presents the memory of the fallen for reverence, but it is also the act of putting the dead in their place. (“Here, the fallen lie buried! Here they are!”) Morning both recalls and dismisses the dead and death. The specter, through its self-identification, de-territorializes death and life. The dead no longer lie buried. The specter's very self-presentation makes it impossible to locate it in death or life, here or there. The specter thus throws time out of joint, as Shakespeare says. And if the ghost beckons us towards a mission, either avenging a fallen father or mobilizing towards a revolution, can it not be said that we are spurred forward towards the future by the dead, by the past?
The mirror-image of mourning, perhaps a sub-genre of it, is conjuration. The living summons the spirit so as to make it absolutely present so that it can be expelled. This expulsion, however, only results in the ghost's dissipation into a multitude of spirits. (S)He who performs the conjuration, then, becomes all the more haunted.
Derrida goes back to the question of addressing the ghost in its otherness. Here, Derrida's indebtedness to Walter Benjamin is most apparent. To create any kind of justice, Derrida posits, is to attempt to set-right, a concept which is reliant on nostalgia for the past. To make right is to make as once was, as the fallen ideal. Yet, the making right is an event planned for to take place in the future: the messianic. The positing of a future is grounded in nostalgia. Derrida claims, dramatically and persuasively, that the primary purpose of deconstruction is to break down philosophical totalities that block certain types of questioning with answers that thus make it impossible for thought to truly, openly question, and truly wait for the messiah without naming it. To try to recall the past without demanding the future in the present.
Derrida's Marx becomes a (pun-intended) haunting character. He is a man terrified of ghosts. He tries to conjure them so as to do away with these specters and is thus constantly haunted by them, completely possessed by his private battle with these wraiths. Marx is controlled by the dead as all men are, but he is more aware of his war against death. In the first sentence of the Manifesto he summons the specter of communism which is the spirit of both the past (primitive communism) and, for Marx, the future so he can locate it in the present (in Europe). Marx's writings are, for Derrida, the greatest articulation of spectral anxiety of what will come in the future from the past. Marx's work is itself one of gathering an inheritance, an inheritance of history, of the march towards the future, towards death, the ghost world.
In this sense, Derrida will claim Marx as his mirror reflection. Both men are obsessed with ghosts and the messianic which will tear down the veil between life and death. Marx, for Derrida, made the mistake of naming the messianic, as Communism, instead of awaiting the word of the ghost that haunted him. For the messianic promise must remain, for Derrida, promissory, abstract. The promise is always, at most, half-present. It remains spectral and haunting. Even if never fully fulfilled the promise transforms the procedure of thought and life with the possibility of coming into being. The promise, like all specters, puts time out of joint, and we should celebrate it for this.
The communism formulated by Marx, and the Soviet experience it inspired, was motivated by messianic energy, but it tried to deliver the messiah into the realm of being, rather than promise.
From there, all of the points made in the book are fairly trite. Derrida, of course, makes the obvious point that the neo-conservative proclamation of the death of Marxism, he uses Fukuyama as his example, is an attempt to conjure Marx so as to abolish him, and that this is futile. The dispersal of Marx's spirit(s) only creates more Marxism(s). We are as haunted by Marx after the death of the Soviet Union as we ever were.
The book's weakest point is when Derrida tries to offer his own variation on Marxism, the “New International,” a transformation of international law not tied to the notion of the nation-state. Derrida claims it to be inspired by a spirit of Marxism- that of self-critique and re-invention. Unfortunately, what Derrida calls for is basically for rich western people to be, you know, nice and generous to those poor people in the third world. It's all very Bono-esque.
Perhaps Marx was afraid of ghosts, of the indeterminate. Certainly, he was a man who attempted to force certainty onto history. But I think that Derrida was frightened of presence, the very concept he, at times persuasively, argued was an artificial construction. Derrida attempted to conjure away presence. We should remember that he lived and thought in a terrifying age- that of the Cold War, in which there was a palpable sense that the present was the moment of annihilation. Humanity lived a presence of ideological bifurcation that threatened to destroy it, to make the present intolerable, and to destroy the past and the future. Derrida feared his present, and he tried to dissipate it into the past and the future. In this sense, I think he was the premier philosopher of Cold War consciousness.
In the last interview he gave in his life, in 2004, Derrida returned to the concept of “learning to live.” Near death from cancer, he said he was “learning to live finally.” He saw that the generation to come would have to struggle against not a bifurcated power structure, but the single leviathan of berserk western imperialism. In the era of the (ongoing) War on Terror, Arab Spring, and Occupy, I think Derrida would have been on our side.