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They put red chalk on me, strongly red. Red on black, it doesn’t… [Laughter], it doesn’t seem obvious that it would be readable.
I’ll make a few lorgnettes, so you’ll be able to see. In any case, these are not new formulas,
they are formulas I have already written on the board last time, and it doesn’t seem to have raised the same protests.
They are useful to be presented here because, however simple they may be and however easy it is to deduce one from the other,
since it is merely a circular permutation, with things remaining in the same order, well,
it turns out that our mental representation capacities are not such that they make up for the fact that it is or is not written on the board.
So, we will continue, continue what I have been doing here for…
here or elsewhere, well, a “here” that is always at the same time, Wednesday at twelve-thirty
…for seventeen years.
It is worth recalling this at the moment when everyone is rejoicing about entering a new decade.
For me, it would rather be an opportunity to look back at what the previous one has given me.
Ten years ago, two of my students presented something that derived from Lacanian theses
under the title “The Unconscious, a Psychoanalytic Study.”
This took place—my God—by what one might call the prince’s act, the only one capable of a liberal act,
with the understanding that a liberal act means an arbitrary act,
also granted that “arbitrary” means commanded by no necessity,
since no necessity was pressing at this point, neither in one direction nor in another,
the prince—the prince, my friend Henri Ey—put The Unconscious on the agenda at a certain congress—
the Congress of Bonneval—entrusting at least part of the drafting of the report
to two of my students.
Since then, this work has been recognized as authoritative,
and in truth, not without reason, it indeed testifies to something:
to the way in which these students of mine thought they could reach,
could make something heard within a group that had distinguished itself
by a kind of directive regarding what I could put forward on this interesting subject,
since it was nothing less than The Unconscious,
which is precisely where my teaching initially took flight, let’s say…
Well, the response, the interest taken by this group in what I was stating,
manifested itself in something that, somewhere recently—I no longer remember where—
in a short preface, I pointed out as a prohibition for those under 50.
We were in 1960, let us not forget. We were far…
are we any closer, that’s the question…
far from any real contestation of authority, particularly the authority of knowledge.
So this prohibition—prohibition for those under 50—being proclaimed,
has something of peculiar characteristics.
In any case, one of them made it comparable to a kind of knowledge monopoly,
this prohibition was observed, purely and simply.
That tells you what kind of work was at hand for those who took it upon themselves:
to make something literally unheard-of comprehensible to the ears in question.
How they did it is something that, after all,
it is not too late for me to assess, since at the time
there was no question of me doing so.
For the reason that it was already quite something to see,
for ears completely unprepared, that had received nothing of the slightest
of what I had been articulating for seven years,
it was obviously not the time, regarding those who were engaged in this clearing work,
to add anything that might seem like an objection.
Besides, there were many excellent elements in it.
This point, then, and in relation to a…
a recent thesis, which, my faith, is being produced somewhere at the border of the Francophone area…
and I would say in a place where—for the sake of preserving its rights—
one is fighting valiantly: in Louvain, to call it by its name…
a thesis has been written, a thesis, my God,
on what is perhaps improperly called my “work.”
In this thesis, of course, which is a university thesis—let’s not forget—
one must put forward things that take an academic form,
and the least one can say is that my work does not lend itself well to that.
That is precisely why it is not unfavorable to the advancement of such an academic argument
that it situates what has already contributed to serving as the vehicle
for this so-called “work,” always in quotation marks.
That is also why one of the authors of this Bonneval Report
is also highlighted,
and of course in a way that, in this capacity,
I cannot fail, in my preface, to mark that the point—
the point must be made concerning what is possibly a “translation”
of what I state and of what I have, strictly speaking, said.
It is clear that this short preface I have given for this thesis,
which is about to be published in Brussels—since it is obvious that a preface from me
lightens its wings—
well, my God, in this preface I am forced, for example,
to make it clear—this is its only utility—
that it is not the same thing
— to say that “the unconscious is the condition of language,”
— or to say that “language is the condition of the unconscious.”
“Language is the condition of the unconscious”—this is what I say.
Because of the way in which—for reasons that could certainly, in their details,
be entirely motivated by the strict academic requirement…
and this would certainly lead far,
may perhaps lead us far this year…
from the strict academic requirement, I say,
it follows that the person who “translates” me,
being trained in this style, in this form of imposed academic discourse,
can do nothing else—whether or not they believe they are commenting on me—
but to reverse my formula,
that is, to give it a meaning that is—
let’s be clear—strictly contrary,
and in truth without even any homology with what I put forward.
Hence, undoubtedly, the difficulty—the very difficulty of translating me into academic language, which is also what will strike all those who, in any capacity… and in truth, the one I am speaking of, who was, moreover, driven by immense goodwill.
Thus, this thesis, which is about to be published in Brussels, nevertheless retains all its value, its value as an example in itself,
its value as an example also because of what it promotes—what it promotes in terms of the somewhat obligatory distortion
that arises from a translation into academic discourse of something that has its own laws.
These laws…
which, I must say, I need to carve out…
the very ones that claim to at least provide the conditions for a properly analytic discourse.
This, of course, remains subject to the fact that, after all, as I pointed out to you last year,
the fact that I state it here from a lectern indeed entails this risk of error,
this element of refraction, which means that in some respect, it falls under the sway of academic discourse.
There is something here that stems from a kind of fundamental misalignment,
the kind that results from a certain position,
a position, of course, to which I certainly do not identify myself:
I assure you that each time I come here to speak, it is certainly not about “What do I have to say?”
or “What am I going to tell them this time?”
That is not what it is about for me.
I have no role to play in this regard, in the sense that the function of one who teaches is of the order of a role,
of a position to be held, and of a certain position of prestige, undeniably.
That is not what I am asking of you, but rather something that is an ordering that I impose upon myself,
the necessity of subjecting it to this trial.
An ordering from which, undoubtedly, like anyone, I would escape
if I did not have, before this sea of ears [Laughter], among which there might well be a pair of critical ones,
the obligation, before them—with that formidable possibility—of accounting for the course of my actions,
in view of this: that there is such a thing as the psychoanalyst.
That this is even my situation,
and that it is a situation whose status has so far not been settled in any manner befitting it,
except by imitation, in the semblance of many other established situations,
and in a case that results in timid practices of selection:
— in a certain identification with a figure,
— in a way of behaving, even in a human type whose form does not appear to be compulsory,
— in a ritual still, even in a few other measures, which, in better times, in an earlier time,
I have compared to those of the “driving school,”
without provoking, moreover, any protest from anyone;
there was even someone very close among my students at the time who pointed out to me
that this was, in truth, strictly speaking, what anyone embarking on an analytic career desired:
to receive, like in the “driving school,” a license to drive,
according to well-defined routes and involving the same type of examination.
It is certainly notable—I mean, worthy of being noted—that after ten years,
I still manage to articulate this position of the psychoanalyst,
to articulate it in a way that I call its discourse, let’s say its hypothetical discourse,
since this year, after all, that is what is proposed for your “examination,”
namely, what the structure of this discourse is.
I manage to articulate it as follows:
it is made—substantially—of the object (a)…
of the object (a) insofar as, in the articulation I provide of what constitutes discourse structure,
discourse structure as it concerns us, let’s say:
taken at the radical level where it has resonated for psychoanalytic discourse…
it is substantially that of the object (a) inasmuch as this object (a) designates precisely what,
among the effects of discourse, presents itself as the most opaque
and, in truth, has long been unrecognized, though essential.
It concerns the effect of discourse that is an effect of rejection,
an effect of rejection whose place and function I will soon attempt to pinpoint.
Here, then, is what it is substantially,
what is substantively at stake in this position of the psychoanalyst.
And this object distinguishes itself in another way,
in that it comes to occupy the place from which discourse is ordered,
because it is from there that, if I may say so,
“the dominant” is emitted.
You surely sense the reservation contained in this usage:
to say “the dominant” means exactly what I ultimately designate,
to distinguish each of these discourse structures, by naming them differently:
— the University discourse,
— the Master’s discourse,
— the Hysteric’s discourse,
— and the Analyst’s discourse,
by various positions of these radical terms.
Let us say that I call “dominant”—for lack of being able, at this moment,
to give this term anything more than this:
that it is what serves me, in some way, to name them.
“Dominant” does not imply dominance, in the sense that such dominance would specify,
which is uncertain, the discourse of the Master.
Let us say that, for instance, different substances can be assigned to this dominant depending on the discourses,
that if we were to call, for example, the dominant of the Master’s discourse,
insofar as S₁ occupies its place, the Law,
we would be doing something that has all its suggestive value
and would undoubtedly open the door to a number of interesting insights.
Is the Law—understood as the Law articulated—
this very Law within whose walls we find shelter,
this Law that constitutes right,
which is certainly not something that must be assumed to be
a homonym of what may be articulated elsewhere under the name of justice?
And that, indeed, the ambiguity, the dressing that this Law receives from authorizing itself in justice,
is precisely a point at which our discourse might perhaps
better indicate where the true mechanisms lie:
— I mean those that enable ambiguity,
— I mean those that make the law something that is first and foremost inscribed in structure.
And that there are not thirty-six ways to make laws:
whether animated by good intentions, inspired by justice or not,
there may well be structural laws that ensure that the law will always be the Law,
situated in that place that I call “dominant” in the Master’s discourse.
At the level of the hysteric’s discourse, it is quite clear that this dominant appears to us in the form of the symptom,
that it is around the symptom that what constitutes the hysteric’s discourse is situated and structured.
And certainly, this gives us the opportunity to realize that if this place is the same,
perhaps that is why, in a light that cannot merely be attributed to the spirit of the times to be accounted for,
it may be that this dominant place is in this case…
that of the symptom, or something that compels us to question whether it is indeed that of the symptom…
the same place when it serves in another discourse.
Indeed, this is precisely what we see in our time: the Law questioned as a symptom.
I said earlier that this same place, this same dominant place,
can be occupied, when it comes to the analyst,
insofar as the analyst himself, in some way, has to represent the effect of rejection of discourse—namely, the object (a).
Does this mean that it will be just as easy for us to characterize this place,
this so-called dominant place, when it comes to academic discourse,
to give it another name,
a name that would, in some way, allow us to establish this sort of equivalence…
that we have just posited as existing at least at the level of the question…
this sort of equivalence between law and symptom, or even rejection when necessary,
inasmuch as, in the psychoanalytic act,
this is indeed the place to which the analyst is assigned?
Well, precisely, our difficulty in answering what constitutes the essence,
the dominant, of academic discourse is something that should alert us that our inquiry…
for what I am tracing before you are the very paths around which,
when I question myself, my thought wavers, drifts, before finding firm points…
this is where, in a way,
the idea might arise that we should seek, in each of these discourses,
to designate at least one place that appears to us as quite certain,
as certain as the symptom when it comes to the hysteric.
Is it…
since I have already indicated to you that in the Master’s discourse, the (a),
it is precisely identifiable with the term, with what at last a working thought—that of Marx—has extracted,
namely what symbolically and in reality concerns the function of surplus-value…
do we thus already find ourselves in the presence of two terms,
from which I might simply need to slightly modify,
to provide an easier translation,
to transpose from other registers?
Here, the suggestion arises:
since there are, after all, four places to characterize,
perhaps each of these four permutations would reveal to us, within itself,
the one that stands out the most,
let’s say, as constituting a step in an order of discovery
that is nothing other than what is called “structure.”
Well, such an idea will lead you to grasp,
in whatever way you put it to the test,
something that may not be immediately apparent to you, namely:
try simply, independently of the conclusion I suggested could interest us,
try, in each—let’s call them “figures”—
in each of these figures,
to constrain yourself to this:
that in each, the place defined in terms of the word “place”—
at the top, at the bottom, to the right, or to the left—
that in each, the place be different,
well, you will not succeed in ensuring that…
no matter how you go about it…
each of them is occupied by a different letter.
→ → →
Try, in the opposite direction,
to set as a condition of the game
that in each of these four formulas,
a different letter is chosen,
well, you will not succeed in ensuring
that each of these letters occupies a different place.
Try it.
It is very easy to do on a piece of paper,
and also, if one uses this small grid called a matrix,
to immediately see that with so few combinations,
the exemplary diagram is instantly sufficient
to illustrate the matter perfectly clearly.
But if we think that there is a certain significant connection here,
one that can be considered quite radical,
this is also an opportunity to illustrate,
through this simple fact, what structure is.
That by positing, in a certain way, the formalization of discourse,
and within this formalization,
by granting oneself a few rules designed to test this formalization,
such an element of impossibility emerges.
This is what is properly at the base,
at the root,
what is made of structure,
and within structure,
what interests us at the level of analytic experience.
This, not at all because here we have already reached a high degree—
at least in its pretensions—
a high degree of elaboration,
but from the very beginning,
since, after all,
if we are engaging with this handling of the signifier
and its possible articulation,
it is because it is indeed within the data of psychoanalysis,
I mean:
within what, to a mind as little—
I would say—
initiated into this kind of elaboration as Freud’s was…
given the training we know he had,
which was of the “paraphysical sciences” type:
physiology armed with the early steps of physics,
and particularly thermodynamics…
if Freud is led to follow the vein,
the thread of his experience,
to formulate, in a time that,
being secondary in its enunciation,
only gains in importance…
since, after all,
nothing seemed to necessitate it in the first instance,
that of the articulation of the unconscious…
if Freud, in a second instance,
the one opened by Beyond the Pleasure Principle,
formulates that we must take into account
this function called—
called what?—
repetition.
Repetition—what is it?
Let us read his text,
let us see what he articulates.
What necessitates repetition is jouissance—the term is designated precisely.
It is insofar as there is a pursuit of jouissance in the form of repetition that this occurs,
which is at stake in this step, the Freudian breakthrough,
that this something which interests us as repetition,
and which is inscribed within a dialectic of jouissance,
is precisely what goes against life.
It is at the level of repetition that Freud finds himself, in a way, compelled…
and this by the very structure of discourse itself…
compelled to articulate this kind of hyperbole,
this fabulous extrapolation—
and indeed, one that remains scandalous to anyone
who would take at face value the identification of the unconscious with instinct…
Freud is led to articulate this “death instinct,”
namely this:
that repetition is not merely a function of cycles…
of the cycles inherent to life, the cycles of need and satisfaction…
but something else, something beyond a cycle—
which also entails the disappearance of life as such,
the return to the inanimate:
certainly, not a horizon, not an ideal, not something outside the framework,
but whose meaning, in a properly structural analysis,
is perfectly indicated in what pertains to jouissance.
If we begin with the principle of pleasure in order to understand:
— that this principle of pleasure is nothing but the principle of minimal tension,
the minimum tension required to maintain life,
which demonstrates that, in itself, jouissance exceeds it,
and that what the pleasure principle maintains is the limit with regard to jouissance;
— that if repetition—
as everything in the facts, in experience, in clinical practice,
indicates to us—
if repetition is founded on a return of jouissance,
and if what is properly articulated on this matter—
in Freud, and by Freud himself—
is precisely that within this very repetition,
it is there, it is there that something occurs which is a “defect,” a “failure.”
That is to say, here, in due time,
I pointed out the kinship with Kierkegaard’s statements:
what is repeated cannot…
precisely because it is expressly and as such repeated,
because it is marked by repetition…
it cannot be anything other than what…
in relation to what it repeats…
is in some way “in loss,”
in loss of whatever you like, in loss of momentum!
There is something that is lost,
and from the very beginning,
from the articulation of what I am summarizing here,
Freud insists on this:
that within repetition itself,
there is a loss of jouissance.
This is where the function of the lost object originates in Freudian discourse.
That is Freud.
Let us add that, after all,
there is no need to recall that it is explicitly around masochism,
conceived solely in this dimension of the pursuit of this ruinous jouissance,
that Freud’s entire text revolves.
Now comes what Lacan introduces here.
This repetition, this identification of jouissance—
and here I borrow…
I borrow in order to give it a meaning
that is not pointed out in Freud’s text…
the function of the unary trait,
— that is, the simplest form of a mark,
— that is, what is, strictly speaking, the origin of the signifier.
And I put forward something that is not in Freud’s text,
I put forward something that is not seen in Freud’s text…
and which in no way could be dismissed,
avoided, or rejected by the psychoanalyst…
namely, that it is from the unary trait that originates everything
that interests us, as analysts, as knowledge.
For psychoanalysis takes its starting point from a turning point,
which is where knowledge is purified, so to speak,
of everything that might introduce ambiguity,
— be it taken from a natural knowledge,
— or from some unknown force
that would guide us in the world around us,
through some kind of innate receptors that would orient us from birth.
Not that there is nothing of the sort, of course.
And naturally,
when a psychologist of scientific standing writes in our time…
well, let’s say, not so long ago, 40 or 50 years ago…
something titled “Sensation, a Guide to Life,”
of course, he says nothing absurd.
But if he can state it in such a way,
it is precisely because the entire evolution of science
shows us that there is no inherent connection
between this “sensation” and what, through it,
penetrates as apprehension of a so-called “world.”
If properly scientific elaboration,
the interrogation of the senses,
of sight, even of hearing,
demonstrates anything to us,
it is nothing other than something
that we must accept as it is,
with exactly the degree of factuality under which it presents itself:
— that among luminous vibrations,
there exists an ultraviolet that we perceive nothing of—
and why should we not perceive it?—
and at the other end, the infrared,
it is the same case;
— and that the same holds true for the ear:
that there are sounds we cease to hear,
and there is no obvious reason why the cutoff point is exactly there rather than elsewhere.
— And in truth, nothing else can be grasped precisely by being illuminated in a certain way,
except this:
that, after all, there are filters,
and that with these filters, we manage as best we can.
If one believes that function creates the organ,
then it is indeed the organ that we use however we can!
There is nothing in common between that something
on which an entire traditional philosophy
has sought to construct and reason—
concerning the mechanisms of thought—
a philosophy that has strived to build, through the methods you know…
the account of what takes place at the level of abstraction and generalization…
this thing that is built upon a kind of reduction,
a passage through a filter,
of what a sensation is considered to be at its base:
“Nihil fuerit in intellectu quod non prius…” etc.,
you know the rest: “…in sensu.”
Is it this subject…
this subject deducible as the subject of knowledge, this subject that can be constructed in a way that now appears so artificial to us,
from foundations that are indeed the foundations of apparatuses,
of vital organs that we can hardly imagine doing without…
is this what is at stake when it comes to this signifying articulation,
the one whose first elements of spelling,
those we are attempting here,
may begin to play with the most elementary terms,
those that bind—
as I have said—
one signifier to another signifier,
and that already produce an effect,
an effect already in that this signifier,
in its very definition,
is only manageable on one condition:
that it has meaning,
that it represents for another signifier a subject,
a subject and nothing else.
There is no escaping this extraordinarily condensed formula:
that there is something underneath [ὑποχείμενον: upokeimenon, sub-jectum],
but precisely that we cannot designate it with any term for “something”:
it cannot be an “etwas” [something],
it is simply an underneath,
if you will, a subject, a ὑποχείμενον [upokeimenon],
something that even for a thought so invested in the contemplation of the demands—
the primary ones, not at all constructed—
of the idea of knowledge,
as was Aristotle’s,
the mere approach of logic,
the mere fact that he introduced it into the circuit of knowledge,
imposed upon him the necessity of strictly distinguishing ὑποχείμενον [upokeimenon]
from any οὐσία [ousia] in itself,
from anything that might be essence.
Thus, the signifier is articulated as representing a subject to another signifier.
It is from here that we begin in order to give meaning to this inaugural repetition
insofar as it is repetition aimed at jouissance.
This allows us to conceive the following:
that if knowledge, at a certain level,
is dominated and articulated by purely formal necessities,
by the necessities of writing…
which nowadays leads to a certain type of logic,
which is itself primarily the manipulation of writing…
that if this knowledge,
which we can support with an experience that is that of modern logic,
if this type of knowledge is precisely what is at stake
when it comes to measuring, in analytic practice,
the incidence of repetition.
In other words, the knowledge that appears to us most purified…
though it is quite clear that we could in no way derive it from empiricism through purification…
is the very same knowledge that is introduced from the outset,
that shows its roots in the fact that, within repetition,
and in the form of the unary trait to begin with,
this knowledge turns out to be the means of jouissance.
Of jouissance, precisely insofar as it exceeds the limits imposed,
under the name of pleasure,
on the usual tensions of life.
And it is here that—
to continue following Lacan—
what appears from this formalism…
if we have said earlier that there is a loss of jouissance,
that it is in place of this loss,
of this something introduced by repetition,
that we see emerge the function of the lost object,
of what I call the (a)…
well, what does this impose upon us if not this formula,
that knowledge working at the most elementary level…
at the level of this imposition of the unary trait…
well, knowledge working, produces…
and this should not come as much of a surprise to us…
produces, let us say, an entropy,
which, among us, spells e-n-t-r-o [Laughter],
because you might just as well spell it a-n-t-h-r-o,
which would indeed make for a clever pun.
This does not surprise us,
because, after all,
consider for a moment that energetics is absolutely nothing else…
no matter what the innocent hearts of engineers may believe [Laughter]…
absolutely nothing else than the imposition onto the world of the network of signifiers.
I challenge you to prove in any way…
in any case, get to work on it and you will see,
you will have the proof of the contrary…
that it is absolutely the same thing
to carry an 80-kilogram weight on your back down 500 meters,
and then, once you have carried it back up the next 500 meters,
to claim that there has been zero work, no work at all. [Laughter] Try it!
But if you overlay this with signifiers,
that is, if you enter into the field of energetics,
it is absolutely certain that there has been no work.
Well then,
we should not be surprised
to see something appear when the signifier is introduced
as an apparatus of jouissance,
to see something appear that relates to entropy,
since the very place where entropy was defined
is when this apparatus of signifiers
was first imposed onto the physical world.
And do not think that I am joking!
Because when you…
when you build a factory anywhere,
naturally, you extract energy from it,
you can even store it.
Well, it is precisely because a factory,
and at least the apparatuses involved in making those turbines function
until energy can be bottled,
is fabricated with this very same logic I am talking about—
namely, the function of the signifier.
Nowadays, a machine has nothing to do with a tool,
there is no genealogy from the shovel to the turbine,
and the proof is that you can very legitimately call a small drawing
you make on this paper a machine.
It takes almost nothing,
it simply takes an ink that will conduct electricity,
for it to become a highly efficient machine.
And why should it not conduct electricity,
since the mark [the trait] is already, in itself,
a conductor of pleasure?
If there is something that psychoanalytic experience teaches us
about this world of fantasy…
which, in truth, if it seems that no one approached before analysis…
it is precisely that no one knew
how to disentangle themselves from it,
except by resorting to “bizarreness,” to “anomaly,”
from which stem those terms,
those pinning down of proper names,
which make us call one thing “masochism,” another “sadism.”
We remain at the level of zoology when we add these “-isms.”
But after all,
there is still something absolutely fundamental,
which is the association…
at what is the very basis,
the very root of fantasy…
of this “glory,” if I may put it that way,
“of the mark,”
of the mark on the skin,
which inspires, in this fantasy,
something that is nothing other than a subject
identifying itself as “an object of jouissance.”
The word jouissance in this erotic practice that I evoke…
flagellation, to call it by its name, and in case there are any utterly deaf among us…
the fact that jouir here takes on the very ambiguity through which it is precisely at this level—at this level and no other—
that the equivalence is touched:
— between the gesture that marks,
— and the body.
“Object of jouissance” for whom?
For the one who bears what I have called “the glory of the mark”?
Is it certain that this means “jouissance of the Other”?
Certainly, in this way, it is one of the entry points of the Other into its world, and undoubtedly, one that is irrefutable.
But the affinity of the mark with the jouissance of the body itself—
this is precisely where it becomes clear that it is only from jouissance,
and not from any other paths,
that the division is established by which narcissism is distinguished from the relation to the object.
There is no ambiguity here—
it is at the level of Beyond the Pleasure Principle
that Freud strongly marks that what, in the final instance,
constitutes the true support, the consistency of the specular image of the ego apparatus,
is that it is sustained from within—
it does nothing but clothe this lost object,
which is that through which, in the dimension of the being of the subject,
jouissance is introduced.
For it is clear that if jouissance is forbidden,
this is only by an initial contingency, a possibility, an accident,
that jouissance comes into play.
The living being that turns,
that turns normally,
purrs within pleasure.
If jouissance is remarkable,
and if it is validated by this sanction of the unary trait,
of repetition, of what institutes it henceforth as a mark—
if this occurs,
it can only be from the slightest deviation
in the direction of jouissance that it originates.
These deviations, after all,
are never extreme,
even in the practices I was evoking just now.
What is at stake is not a transgression,
an irruption into a field forbidden by the fine-tuning of vital regulatory apparatuses—
rather, it is that, in fact,
it is only within this effect of entropy,
within this dissipation,
that jouissance attains its status,
that it becomes discernible,
and this is why I first introduced it under the term “Mehrlust,”
“surplus jouissance.”
It is precisely by being perceived within the dimension of loss
that something necessitates compensating, so to speak—
something that is at first a negative quantity,
a deficit upon this I-know-not-what
that has struck, resonated against the walls of the bell,
that has produced jouissance,
and jouissance to be repeated.
It is solely this dimension of entropy
that gives form to this,
that there is a surplus jouissance to be recovered.
It is in this dimension that work is necessitated,
knowledge working,
and as such, whether it knows it or not,
it belongs
— first to the unary trait,
— and subsequently, to all that can be articulated as signifier.
From this point onward,
this dimension of jouissance,
so ambiguous in the speaking being,
can just as well theorize,
make a religion of living in apathy…
for apathy is hedonism…
one can just as well make a religion of this,
and yet everyone knows that the very mass…
Massenpsychologie is the title of one of Freud’s writings, from the same period…
in its very mass,
what animates it, what works within it,
what constitutes it as belonging to an order of knowledge
different from those harmonizing forms of knowledge
that link the Innenwelt to the Umwelt,
is the function of surplus jouissance as such.
This is the gap, the void,
which undoubtedly and at first
comes to be filled by a certain number of “objects”
that are in some way pre-adapted,
made to serve as “plugs” [for (a)].
This is no doubt where all classical analytic practice stops—
at emphasizing these names, these various terms…
— oral,
— anal,
— scopic,
— even vocal…
these various names by which we can designate as “object”
that which pertains to (a).
But (a) is precisely that which results from the fact that knowledge,
at its origin—and a certain knowledge, at that—
is first and foremost reduced to signifying articulation.
This knowledge is a means of jouissance,
and I repeat:
when it works, what it produces is entropy,
and this entropy—
it is the only point, the only regular point,
this point of loss,
through which we have access to what jouissance is.
In this is expressed, enclosed, and motivated
the incidence of the signifier
in the destiny of the speaking being.
It has little to do with speech,
it has to do with structure,
which is itself tied to the fact that the human being—
who is probably called as such
only because he is merely the humus of language [Laughter] [cf. discourse H, U, M, A]—
has only to attach himself to that apparatus.
With something as simple as my four little signs,
I was able to show you just now
that it is enough for us to give this unary trait a companion—
the companion of another trait,
S₂ after S₁—
for us to be able to situate,
this signifier also validly:
— on the one hand, what pertains to its meaning,
— on the other, its insertion into the jouissance of the Other,
that by which it is the means of jouissance.
From there begins the work:
it is with knowledge as a means of jouissance
that this work occurs—
a work that has a meaning,
an obscure meaning,
which is that of truth.
Without a doubt, if I had not already approached these terms from various angles that illuminate them,
I would certainly not have the audacity to introduce them in this way.
But a considerable amount of work has already been done:
when I speak to you of knowledge as having its primary place
in the Master’s discourse at the level of the slave,
who, if not Hegel, has shown us that the slave’s labor,
what it ultimately reveals to us, is the truth of the Master—
no doubt, the very truth that refutes him?
In truth, perhaps we are now in a position
to put forward other forms or schemas of discourse,
to perceive where the Hegelian construction gapes open,
where it remains forcibly enclosed.
Certainly, if there is anything our entire approach delineates…
and indeed, it has been renewed through analytic experience…
it is that no evocation of truth can take place
without indicating that it is accessible to us only through a half-saying,
that it can never be fully articulated,
for the reason that beyond its halfway point, there is nothing left to say.
Everything that can be said is that—
and consequently, at this point, discourse abolishes itself.
One does not speak of the unspeakable,
however much pleasure that might seem to give some people.
Nevertheless, this knot of the half-saying…
— which, last time, I illustrated by indicating how one must accentuate
what is properly at stake in interpretation,
— which I articulated as “enunciation without statement”
or “statement with reservation of enunciation,”
— which I pointed out as being the axis points,
the points of balance, the centers of gravity specific to interpretation…
…is something that our advancement must profoundly renew
in terms of what truth is.
The love of truth is something that arises
from this lack of being in truth,
this lack of being that we might also call otherwise:
this lack of forgetting.
What returns to us in the formations of the unconscious
is nothing that belongs to the order of being,
of any full being whatsoever.
— What is this “indestructible desire” that Freud speaks of
in the concluding lines of The Interpretation of Dreams?
— What is this desire that nothing can change or bend,
even as everything else changes?
This lack of forgetting is the same as the lack of being,
for being is nothing other than forgetting.
[cf. L’étourdit: “What is said remains forgotten…”]
This love of truth is the love of this weakness,
this weakness whose veil we have learned to lift,
and that which truth conceals—
what is called castration.
I should not even need these reminders [Laughter],
which are, in some sense, so utterly bookish.
It seems that among analysts,
and particularly among them,
in the name of a few taboo words
with which they smear their discourse,
this is precisely where one never realizes what truth is:
impotence—
and that everything concerning truth is built upon this.
That there is a love of weakness—
this is no doubt the very essence of love.
And as I have said:
love is indeed about giving what one does not have,
namely, what could repair this original weakness.
And at the same time, this opens up—
or at least slightly unveils—
this role…
I do not know whether to call it more “mystical” or “mystificatory”…
which, in a certain tradition,
has always been assigned to love itself.
For this so-called “universal love”…
which is waved in front of us like a rag to pacify us…
this “universal love” is precisely what we use
to veil or even obstruct what truth is.
What is asked of the psychoanalyst…
as I already indicated last time in my discourse…
is certainly not what derives from this supposed subject of knowledge—
which, from the way people usually listen to me,
a little off to the side,
I thought I could ground the concept of transference upon.
I have often insisted on this:
we are supposed to know very little.
What the analyst sets up,
what analysis establishes and institutes,
is the very opposite:
the analyst says to the one who is about to begin,
“Go ahead, say anything—
it will be marvelous.” [Laughter]
It is the analysand who is instituted as the supposed subject of knowledge,
and after all, this is not entirely in bad faith,
because in this case, he cannot rely on anyone else. [Laughter]
And transference is founded on this:
that there is someone who, to me—
a poor fool!—
to me, tells me to behave as if I knew what it was about.
He can say anything,
it will always produce something.
There is enough there to cause transference. [Laughter]
It doesn’t happen every day.
What defines the analyst,
as I have said,
as I have always said from the very beginning…
simply, no one has ever understood anything [Laughter],
and besides, it is natural—
it is not my fault…
I have always said:
“Analysis is what one expects from a psychoanalyst.”
“What one expects from a psychoanalyst”…
one should obviously try to understand what that means,
since it is so readily available, right within reach.
I still have the feeling…
this is the work…
surplus jouissance, that is for you…
“What one expects from a psychoanalyst”
is—
as I said last time—
to make knowledge function in terms of truth.
That is precisely why it is confined to a half-saying,
as I said last time,
and as I will have to return to,
because it has consequences.
It is to him—
and to him alone—
that this formula,
which I have so often commented on, is addressed:
“Wo es war, soll Ich werden.”
If the analyst can occupy this place,
the one in the upper left that determines his discourse,
it is precisely by being absolutely not there for himself.
“Where it was—
the surplus jouissance,
the jouissance of the Other—
it is there that I—
insofar as I articulate the psychoanalytic act—
must come.”
[…] 14 January 1970 […]
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