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First published January 1, 2006
May asserts that Foucault’s approach to the question of who we are is a historical one. He invites us to think, like Foucault, of history as “the temporal movement that has deposited us on these particular shores” (p. 11). It is because of a particular contingent history that we have become who we are. May proposes that there are five characteristics in saying that we are a product of such a history. Firstly, who I am as an individual is indispensably a matter of collective determination. Who I am is determined collectively and not only by myself. Secondly, that collective determination is not something that can be easily shaken off – who we are is embedded in that history. Thirdly, collective determination is a complex matter, an interplay of interweaving themes. Fourthly, there is a close relationship between acting and knowing. Finally, and most importantly, such collective determination is contingent, by no means necessary, and therefore changeable. This is what I think is the key message of the book: that, if we are determined by particular practices situated in a particular history, rather than by some ahistorical essences, then we can be otherwise. May argues that these five characteristics are present in all of Foucault’s works and, therefore, essential for understanding Foucault.
The book proceeds in chronological order in the investigation of Foucault’s body of work. May divides Foucault’s published writings into three periods: the archaeological period, the genealogical period, and the ethical period, each of which is corresponding to each chapter of the book. . . . Although adhering to this standard periodization, May acknowledges that the periodization may be far less decisive than it seems, that Foucault’s works may be discontinuous, and that each of them is “a singular experiment” in its own right (p. 24). He also warns us that, in so doing, “betraying the riches” that each of Foucault’s works brings “will be inevitable” (p. 25). Nevertheless, by following such periodization, we also get to witness in the process the riches of each of Foucault’s methods, his “straying afield” of himself, and the expeditious character of his philosophical endeavor – as May excellently puts it, Foucault is in direct contrast with those philosophers who
spend the early part of their careers staking out a small piece of philosophical territory, and the rest of their professional lives patrolling that territory rather than investigating what else might be out there. It is, for all but very few philosophers – those who can mine a particular problem more deeply with each investigation, always finding a hidden seam with new riches – a sad and futile exercise” (p. 59).
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The following are two of my reservations about the book.
Firstly, I think the book is somewhat half-finished or lacking in its elaboration of Foucault’s corpus. Carlos Prado, who also reviews this book, argues that the book “misses its audience” by appearing as an introduction but is in parts too detailed to be elementary. He says that the book requires somewhat well-grounded knowledge of and familiarity with Foucault’s works to understand what May has to say. On the contrary, from the point of view of someone who is already familiar with Foucault’s works, I’d rather say that the book has not fulfilled what it promises to do: to offer an “elaboration, to the very end, of the necessary implications of a formulated question” (p. 2). I feel a sense of omission and watering down in the process. For instance, as a political science student, I see Foucault being associated with politics a lot. However, here in the book, although it does mention that Foucault’s genealogical turn takes on a political tinge and does explain some of his political concepts, the political implications of Foucault’s works are largely left untouched or unsaid. It might be because May is too concerned with the question of “who we are.” Or it might be because he has to cram Foucault’s whole corpus, which covers so many subjects, so many published writings, and so many years, into a book of 158 pages. This might be the best result a book of this length could bring.
Secondly, I agree with Prado that, by ending with Deleuze, Baudrillard, and Lyotard, the book inflicts damage upon itself. As Prado puts it,
[t]he first two-thirds of [chapter 6] in effect date Foucault in a way that robs the presentation in preceding chapters of some of its force and immediacy because by the time May defends the timeliness of Foucault's ideas, the damage has been done.”
That chapter convincingly refutes the book’s reading of Foucault’s approach to the question of who we are – the project of the whole book! And although May returns to defend Foucault, I suppose a lot of readers will have already defected to the other side. I am not saying that Foucault is right and that Deleuze, Baudrillard, and Lyotard are wrong – in fact, I acknowledge that criticisms like these are indispensable in any philosophical discussion. I am saying, rather, that this presentation in the last chapter renders what the book has carefully done the whole time somewhat less rigorous than it’s supposed to be.