• What's distinctive about haunting is that it is an animated state in which a repressed or unresolved social violence is making itself known, some- times very directly, sometimes more obliquely. I used the term haunting to describe those singular yet repetitive instances when home becomes unfamiliar, when your bearings on the world lose direction, when the over-and-done-with comes alive, when what's been in your blind spot comes into view. Haunting raises specters, and it alters the experience of being in time, the way we separate the past, the present, and the future. These specters or ghosts appear when the trouble they represent and symptomize is no longer being contained or repressed or blocked from view. The ghost, as I understand it, is not the invisible or some ineffable excess. The whole essence, if you can use that word, of a ghost is that it has a real presence and demands its due, your attention.
• "Ghosts hate new things" (21). The reason why is because ghosts are characteristically attached to the events, things, and places that produced them in the first place; by na- ture they are haunting reminders of lingering trouble. Ghosts hate new things precisely because once the conditions that call them up and keep them alive have been removed, their reason for being and their power to haunt are severely restricted.
• This is a project where finding the shape de- scribed by her absence captures perfectly the paradox of tracking through time and across all those forces that which makes its mark by being there and not there at the same time.
• Haunting is a constituent element of modern social life. It is neither pre- modern superstition nor individual psychosis; it is a generalizable social phenomenon of great import.
• If haunting describes how that which appears to be not there is often a seething presence, acting on and often meddling with taken-for- granted realities, the ghost is just the sign, or the empirical evidence if you like, that tells you a haunting is taking place. The ghost is not sim- ply a dead or a missing person, but a social figure, and investigating it can lead to that dense site where history and subjectivity make social life. The ghost or the apparition is one form by which something lost, or barely visible, or seemingly not there to our supposedly well-trained eyes, makes itself known or apparent to us, in its own way, of course. The way of the ghost is haunting, and haunting is a very particular way of knowing what has happened or is happening.
• Hypervisibility is a kind of obscenity of accuracy that abolishes the distinctions between "per- mission and prohibition, presence and absence." No shadows, no ghosts. In a culture seemingly ruled by technologies of hypervisibility, we are led to believe not only that everything can be seen, but also that everything is available and accessible for our consumption. In a culture seemingly ruled by technologies of hypervisibility,we are led to believe that neither repression nor the return of the repressed, in the form of either improperly buried bodies or countervailing systems of value or difference, occurs with any meaningful result.
• "the point of hav- ing your own object world, and walls and muffled distance or relative silence all around you, is to forget about all those innumerable others for a while." To remember "would be like having voices inside your head" (3is).5 It would be like having voices inside your head because a postmodern social formation is still haunted by the symptomatic traces of its productions and exclusions.
• Hyper- visibility is a persistent alibi for the mechanisms that render one un- visible:
• Toni Morrison's (1989) argument that "invisible things are not necessarily not-there" encourages the complementary gesture of investigating how that which appears absent can indeed be a seething presence. Both these positions are about how to write ghost stories—about how to write about per- missions and prohibitions, presence and absence, about apparitions and hysterical blindness.
• How do we reckon with what modern history has rendered ghostly? How do we develop a critical language to describe and analyze the af- fective, historical, and mnemonic structures of such hauntings?
• It was in such a spirit that Horkheimer and Adorno ([1944] 1987) wrote a two-page note, appended to The Dialectic of Enlightenment, entitled "On The Theory of Ghosts." Despairing at the loss of historical perspective, at our "disturbed relationship with the dead—forgotten and embalmed," they believed we needed some kind of theory of ghosts, or at least a way of both mourning modernity's "wound in civilization"
• It is not a case of dead or missing persons sui generis, but of the ghost as a social figure. It is often a case of inarticulate experiences, of symptoms and screen memories, of spiraling affects, of more than one story at a time, of the traffic in domains of experience that are anything but trans- parent and referential.
• The margins of the story mark a border between the remembered and the forgotten"
• In chapter 2., forced to take a detour, I go looking for a woman, Sabina Spielrein, who was not in a photograph in which she was supposed to be. I find her in psycho- analysis, the only human science that has taken haunting seriously as an object of analysis. But psychoanalysis does not know as much about haunting as it might seem.
• Chapters 3 and 4 venture to contemplate haunting and ghosts at the level of the making and unmaking of world historical events. Chapter 3, written around Luisa Valenzuela's novel Como en la Guerra/He Who Searches, is about the system of state ter- ror known as disappearance in Argentina. Chapter 4, centered on Toni Morrison's novel Beloved, is about Reconstruction and the lingering inheritance of U.S. racial slavery.
• [Chapter 2]
• the experience of the uncanny is not simply "intellectual uncertainty." It is what I call being haunted, a state, I will emphasize over and over again, that is not simply one of cognitive doubt, or of the unknown, but something else.
• Freud: The creative writer can . . . choose a setting which . . . differ[s] from the real world by admitting . . . ghosts of the dead. So long as they remain within their setting of poetic reality, such figures lose any uncanninesswhich they might possess.... The situation is altered as soon as the writer pretends to move in the world of common reality. In this case he accepts as well all the conditions operating to produce uncanny feelings in real life; and everything that would have an uncanny effect in real- ity has it in his story.
• Spielrein absent from photo of 3rd Psychoanalytic Congress: she refused to pose for camera
• the replacement of the visual spectacle (Charcot photographing hysteria) with the talking cure marks the transition, through Josef Breuer and Anna O, to psychoanalysis proper.
• Sabina Spielrein saw spirits. Sabina Spielrein haunts the institution of psychoanalysis.
• Regine Robin's statement that "something crosses over the disciplinary boundaries which only fiction can apprehend, like a trace of unassumed contradictions, as the only way to designate the locus of its own production" (1980: 2,35). The fictional, the made-up, the invention that comes between me and my object of study and that is the result of the encounter, a real thing. It is never fully ours for the making, of course, and that is why those "unassumed contradictions" come like traces, often remain as traces, the tracks of our fieldwork, dragging all that construction into the relationship between me and knowledge.
• what method have you adopted for your research? Or, more precisely, how can a fiction be data? What is this about ghosts and haunting? Why do you call it sociology?
• How can we tell the differ- ence between the symbolic, the imaginary, and the real, they insisted? How can we tell the difference between one story and another's? It will all hinge, as we shall see, on that double modality of telling—to recount and to distinguish.
• The unconscious draws us, as social analysts, into another region or field where things are there and yet hidden, where things stand gaping, where the question of how we present a world, our own or another's, becomes a question of the limits of representation.
• This identification with the consciousness of others is uncertain, Freud says, because it relies only on an inference that it is like our own.
• "this method of infer- ence, applied to oneself in spite of inner opposition, does not lead to the discovery of an unconscious, but leads logically to the assumption of another, second consciousness which is united in myself with the con- sciousness I know" "a consciousness of which its own possessor knows nothing is something very different from that of another person"
• Freud is vexed by the possibility of conceiving the un- conscious as the life of others and other things within us, the specter of a social unconscious raises its head. The Freudian unconscious is not a social unconscious.
• Freud's science will try, once and for all, to rid itself of all vestiges of animism by making all the spirits or the hauntings come from the unconscious, from inside the troubled individual, an individ- ual, we might note, who had become increasingly taken with the ani- mation of the commodity world. HMM I THINK IM WITH HIM ON THIS ONE
• Freud's mature unconscious replaces origins of haunting in the worldly contact between self and other. The unconscious is NOT SOCIAL
• Uncanny experiences are haunting experiences. There is something there and you "feel" it strongly. It has a shape, an electric empiricity, but the evidence is barely visible, or highly symbol- ized.
• Freud divides uncanny experiences into two classes, those that arise from the revival of "repressed infantile complexes, from the castration complex, womb-phantasies, etc." (U 2,48) and those that arise from the return of "surpassed" "primitive beliefs."
• he admits, and is troubled by, the presence of uncanny experiences that are not re- ducible to the acting out of an individual's psychic state.
• But it is pre- cisely the experience of being haunted in the "world of common real- ity, " the unexpected arrival of ghosts or wolves or eerie photographs, that troubles or even ruins our ability to distinguish reality and fiction, magic and science, savage and civilized, self and other, and in those ways gives to reality a different coloring. The "reality-testing" that we might want to perform in the face of hauntings must first of all admit those hauntings as real.
• Freud might have called the primitive or the archaic the social and thereby have supplemented the Marxist notion of estrangement. The social is ultimately what the uncanny is about: being haunted in the world of common reality. I am not sold on this
• It is an enchanted encounter in a disenchanted world between familiarity and strangeness. The uncanny is the return, in psychoanalytic terms, of what the concept of the un- conscious represses: the reality of being haunted by worldly contacts.
• After having dragged the human sciences into all these ghostly affairs, Freud's science arrives to explain away everything that is important and to leave us with adults who never surmount their indi- vidual childhoods or adults whose haunting experiences reflect their in- correct and childish belief in the modes of thought of their "primitive" ancestors. She wants something of Freud that is not Freudian
• Dear Sabina…Is this why you have come back to haunt me, because rumors of your re- covery have reached you?
• [Chapter 3]
• To confront those who become desaparecido (disappeared) under the auspices of state-sponsored terror in Argentina, within what Michael Taussig (i99z) calls the Nervous System, or, as we will see in chapter 4, to confront those who were lost on their way to North America in the flow of a juridically enforced international trade in human property, is to contemplate ghosts and haunting at the level of the making and un- making of world historical events.
• In these mat- ters, you can only experience a haunting, confirming in such an experi- ence the nature of the thing itself: a disappearance is real only when it is apparitional.
• Thus far, I have considered three characteristic features of haunting. We have seen that the ghost imports a charged strangeness into the place or sphere it is haunting, thus unsettling the propriety and prop- erty lines that delimit a zone of activity or knowledge. I have also em- phasized that the ghost is primarily a symptom of what is missing. It gives notice not only to itself but also to what it represents. What it represents is usually a loss, sometimes of life, sometimes of a path not taken. From a certain vantage point the ghost also simultaneously rep- resents a future possibility, a hope. Finally, I have suggested that the ghost is alive, so to speak. We are in relation to it and it has designs on us such that we must reckon with it graciously, attempting to offer it a hospitable memory out of a concern for justice. Out of a concern for justice would be the only reason one would bother. What about lament? Ghostly lament?
• Rather, my purpose is to encourage us to think that the very way in which we discover things or learn about others or grapple with history is intimately tied to the very things themselves, to their variable modes of operation, and thus to how we would change them.
• Luisa Valenzuela is an Argentine writer, the author of several novels and short story collections all explor- ing the social and psychosexual dimensions of repression and desire. In Luisa Valenzuela's story, a man becomes haunted by a woman who is barely there. He is searching for her, for knowledge, for himself. She is haunted by something else it takes him a long time to figure out. The search is everything to him. What does he find when he goes look- ing for the woman who has become an apparition? The knot of the ghostly and the real.
• For the Mothers, the photographs were a spirit guide to the desapare- cidos and to disappearance as an organized system of repression. The photographs—"token[s] of absence" and potent evidence of what is harrowingly present—constituted a repertoire of counterimages, part of a movement to punctuate the silence, to break the studium-like quality of disappearance, to "layclaim to another reality"
• Where are the disappeared? The disappeared are in another world, a world some Mothers were taken to also. This is, surely, one of the rea- sons the Mothers knew that disappearance was not death. Disappear- ance was all around them, they smelled it, they sensed it, they felt its be- witching compulsion: it was always threatening to envelop them. The disappeared have gone through the other door, its floods of tears with consolation enclosed.
• To insist that disappearance is not death but its own state of being consolation enclosed—because it exists and is living with us, doing things to us, scaring us, driving us from our homes into exile, making us incon- solably lonely, or crazy, or unable to see what is right in front of our faces, or because it is goading us to fight—is to pinpoint its haunting quality. To withstand and to defy its haunting power requires speaking to it directly, not paralyzed with fear, out of a concern for justice. How we can talk with them? (Agosin 1990: 37).
• A bag of bones tells us nothing about disappearance. A bag of bones is not justice. A bag of bones is knowledge without acknowledgment, the "sacramental transformation" of information into publicly sanctioned truth (Weschler 1990: 4). A bag of bones only aims to eradicate "any meaning that death might have in society," aims to eliminate "historical memory" and public memorials in a context where death is a supreme instance of national sovereignty (Franco 1986: 12.). The Mothers in- sisted on keeping the disappeared alive because they opposed the false reconciliation that national-sponsored grieving for the dead and for burying the "terrible" past promised.
• The Mothers insisted on Apari- cion con vida because they sought not to bury and forget the dead, but rather a "dynamic reintegration of the dead and disappeared into con- temporaneity" (ibid.: 14).
• Disappearance is not only about death. Disappearance is a thing in it- self, a state of being repressed. To counter it and its particular mode of operation requires contact with and work on what it is. As we shall see in a moment, disappearance is a state-sponsored procedure for produc- ing ghosts to harrowingly haunt a population into submission.
• [4]
• Somewhere between the Actual and the Imaginary ghosts might enter without affrighting us
• [On Beloved] The ghost enters, all fleshy and real, with wants, and a fierce hunger, and she speaks, barely, of course, and in pictures and a coded language. This ghost, Beloved, forces a reckoning: she makes those who have contact with her, who love and need her, confront an event in their past that loiters in the present. But Beloved, the ghost, is haunted too, and therein lies the challenge Morrison poses.
• Yet, what they see or think they see can never quite grasp what Toni Morrison asks us as readers today to comprehend: that Beloved the ghost herself barely possesses a story of loss, which structures the very possibility of enslavement, emancipation, and freedom in which the Reconstructive history of Beloved traffics.
• However, neither Sethe nor the oth- ers can perceive that the ghost that is haunting them is haunted her- self.
• In the latter part of January 1856, Margaret Garner, the slave mother, killed her child rather than see her taken back to slavery.
• "Rather than" suggests a causal explanatory relation be- tween these two moments, one seemingly individual and private—a mother kills her child—and the other systemic and public—Slavery.
• For the majority of lay abolitionist readers, the slave narrative was popular sociology. It possessed a distinctive factual value because it told you what life was really like for the slave striving to be free. And it pos- sessed a distinctive factual-moral value because it provided the believ- able proof that the slave, legally property, was a potential citizen, a human being. The slave narrative was expected to bear witness to the institution and experience of Slavery simply in plain speech and thus, by implication, sincerely.
• As it retells one story and in this way summons another, it remembers some of what the slave narrative forgot, creating a palimpsest, a document that has been inscribed sev- eral times, where the remnants of earlier, imperfectly erased scripting is still detectable.
• Belov