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151 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 2000
‘In defying the state, she repeats as well the defiant act of her brother, thus offering a repetition of defiance that, in affirming her loyalty to her brother, situates her as the one who may substitute for him and, hence, replaces and territorializes him’
‘[F]or Lacan, kinship is rarefied as enabling linguistic structure, a presupposition of symbolic intelligibility, and thus removed from the domain of the social; for Hegel, kinship is precisely a relation of “blood” rather than one of norms.That is, kinship is not yet entered into the social, where the social is inaugurated through a violent supersession of kinship.’
‘In Hegel, kinship is rigorously distinguished from the sphere of the state, though kinship is a precondition for the emergence and reproduction of the state apparatus. In Lacan, kinship, as a function of the symbolic, becomes rigorously dissociated from the sphere of the social, and yet it constitutes the structural field of intelligibility within which the social emerges. My reading of Antigone, in brief, will attempt to compel these distinctions into productive crisis.Antigone represents neither kinship nor its radical outside but becomes the occasion for a reading of a structurally constrained notion of kinship in terms of its social iterability, the aberrant temporality of the norm.’
No terceiro capítulo, há uma leitura muito pertinente sobre a temporalidade e sobre a força particular da palavra: o parentesco não é simplesmente uma situação em que Antígona se encontra, mas um conjunto de práticas que ela própria performa, relações que são reinstituídas no tempo precisamente por meio da prática de sua repetição.
Cada ato é o efeito temporal aparente de alguma palavra pronunciada anteriormente, e assim se estabelece a temporalidade de um atraso trágico, segundo o qual tudo o que acontece já aconteceu e virá a aparecer como o que já vinha acontecendo o tempo todo, uma palavra e um ato enredados e estendidos ao longo do tempo pela força da repetição.
A palavra criptografada traz dentro de si uma história irrecuperável, uma história que, em virtude de sua própria irrecuperabilidade e sua enigmática vida futura na forma de palavras, carrega uma força cuja origem e final não podem ser totalmente determinados. Antígona fala a linguagem do direito da qual está excluída, participando da linguagem da reivindicação de direitos com a qual não é possível uma identificação final. Se ela é humana, então o humano entrou em catacrese: já não sabemos mais qual o seu uso adequado.
Catacrese é a figura de linguagem que consiste no uso de uma palavra ou expressão que não descreve com exatidão o que se quer expressar, mas é adotada por não haver uma outra palavra apropriada
"How do we understand this strange place if being between life and death, of speaking precisely from that vacillating boundary? If she is dead in some sense and yet speaks, she is precisely the one with no place who nevertheless seeks to claim one within speech, the unintelligible as it emerges within the intelligible, a position within kinship that is no position."
"[For Lacan] The image of Antigone, the image of irresolution, the irresolved, is the position of Being itself.
Earlier on this same pages, however, Lacan links this same image to "tragic action," one that he later claims articulates the position of Being as a limit. Significantly, this limit is also described in terms of a constitutive irresolution, namely, "being buried alive in a tomb." Later, he gives us other language with which to understand that irresolved image, that of motionless moving (252). This image is also said to "fascinate" and to exercise an effect on desire -- an image that will turn out, at the end of "The Slendor of Antigone," to be constitutive of desire itself. In the theater, we watch those who are buried alive in a tomb, we watch the dead move, we watch with fascination as the inanimate is animated.
It seems that the irresolvable coincidence of life and death in the image, the image that Antigone exemplifies without exhausting, is also what is meant by the "limit," and the "position of Being." This is a limit that is not precisely thinkable within life, but that acts in life as the boundary over which the living cannot cross, a limit that constitutes and negates life simultaneously.
When Lacan claims that Antigone fascinates as an image, and that she is "beautiful" (260), he is calling attention to this simultaneous and irresolvable coincidence of life and death that she brings into relief for her audience. She is dying, but alive, and so signifies the limit that (final) death is . . . There is something more: they are characters who find themselves "right away in a limit zone, find themselves between life and death" (272), conveyed by Lacan as one hyphenated word: "entre-la-vie-et-la-mort."
"Although Lacan identifies this death-driven movement internal to desire as what finally takes her out of the symbolic, that condition for a supportable life, it is peculiar that what moves her across the barrier to the scene of death is precisely the curse of her father, the father's words, the very terms by which Lacan earlier defines the symbolic . . ."
"In a sense, Antigone refuses to allow her love for her brother to become assimilated to a symbolic order that requires the communicability of the sign. By remaining on the side of the incommunicatible sign, the unwritten law, she refuses to submit her love to the chain of signification, that life of substitutibility, that language inaugurates. She stands, Lacan tells us, for "the ineffacable character of what is" (279). But what is, under the rule of the symbolic, is precisely what is evacuated through the emergence of the sign. The return to an ineffacable ontology, prelinguistic, is thus associated on Lacan with a return to dead, and, indeed, with a death drive . . ."
"Antigone represents a kind of thinking that counters the symbolic and, hence, counters life, perhaps it is precisely because the very terms of livability are established by a symbolic that is challenged by her kind of claim . . . The words of the father, the inaugurating utterances of the symbolic curse connect his children in one stroke. These words become the circuit within which her desire takes form, and though she is entangled in these words, even hopelessly, they do not quite capture her. Do these words not condemn her to death, since Oedipus claims that it would have been better had his children not lived, or is it her escape from those words that lead her into the unlivability of a desire outside cultural intelligibility? . . ."
"But to what extent can this death-driven thought return to challenge the articulation of the symbolic, and to alter the fatal interdictions by which it reproduces it's own field of power? And what of her fate is in fact a social death, in the sense that Orlando Patterson has used that term? This seems a crucial question, for this position outside life as we know it, is not necessarily a position outside as it must be."
"How does one grieve from within the presumption of criminality, from within the presumption that one's acts are invariably and fatally criminal?
Consider that Antigone is trying to grieve, to grieve openly, publicly, under conditions in which grief is explicitly prohibited by an edict that assumes the criminality of grieving Polyneices and names as criminal anyone who would call the authority of that edict into question. She is one for whom open grieving is itself a crime. But is she guilty only because of the words that are upon her, words that come from elsewhere, or has she also sought to destroy and repudiate the very bonds of kinship that she now claims entitlement to grieve? She is grieving her brother, but part of what remains unspoken in that grief is the grief she has for her father, and, indeed, her other brother. Her mother remains almost fully unspeakable, and there is hardly a trace of grief for her sister, Ismene, whom she has explicitly repudiated. The "brother" is no singular place for her, though it may well be that all her brothers (Oedipus, Polyneices, Eteocles) are condensed at the exposed body of Polyneices, an exposure she seeks to cover, a nakedness she would rather not see, or have seen.
. . . Her melancholia, if we can call it that, seems to consist in this refusal to grieve that is accomplished through the very public terms by which she insists on her right to grieve. Her claim to entitlement may well be the sign of a melancholia at work in her speech. Her loud proclamations of grief presuppose a domain of the ungrievable. The insistence on public grieving is what moves her away from feminine gender into hubris, into that distinctly manly excess that makes the guards, the chorus, and Creon wonder: Who is the man here? [!] There seems to be some spectral men here, ones that Antigone herself inhabits, the brothers whose place she has taken and whose place she transforms in the taking. The melancholic, Freud tells us, registers his or her "plaint," levels a juridical claim, where the language becomes the event of the grievance, where, emerging from the unspeakable, language carries a violence that brings it to the limits of speakability.
We might ask what remains unspeakable here, not in order to produce speech that will fill the gap, but to ask about the convergence of social prohibition and melancholia, how the condemnations under which one lives turn into repudiation that one performs, and how the grievances that emerge against the public law also constitute conflicted efforts to overcome the muted rage of one's own repudiations. In confronting the unspeakable in "Antigone," are we confronting a socially instituted foreclosure of the intelligible, a socially instituted melancholia in which the unintelligible life emerges in language as a living body might be interred into a tomb?"