For a long time in history since Platonic dualism, the “body” has been a
site of oppression, a symbol of individual social status, and
a metaphor for social concord or hierarchical unity. In the Roman Empire,
for example, sexuality is controlled with concerns about social
order: “Stoic attitudes to marital intercourse deliberately stared
past the possibility of erotic satisfaction to the grave and purposive
gestures of the public man. . . . Even the marriage chamber was
to be ‘a school of orderly behavior.’” In addition, the bodies of the slaves in the
Greco-Roman world became objects of economic property and of public
execution. A discovery of a wall inscription from Puteoli
suggests how the execution of slaves took place at the price of
almost nothing. This advertisement hints that slave bodies
are at the mercy of masters and executed like waste in society.
As Martin observed, the body has also played a role
in determining individual social status in the ideology of the
upper class in the Greco-Roman society. The strong and healthy body is a symbol and
an ideology for the upper class’ glorification and social control. The other side of that ideology points to the
oppression of the weaker bodies, who are mainly slaves or women. Likewise, the use of the body as a strong metaphor
for social body (social concord) was very popular in high culture
in the Greco-Roman world as discussed earlier. This metaphoric use of social body and its
subsequent emphasis on “unity” or “concord” is a ruling ideology
that cements the hierarchical social body. A majority of scholars today read this dominant
voice of hierarchical ideology as the background for Paul’s theology
and ethics. However, I will argue throughout my dissertation
that Paul opposes this dominant, hierarchical voice by the counter-image
of Christ crucified. Are slaves not humans – voiceless and invisible?
Nevertheless, if we can read the Aesop traditions freshly, while
keeping in mind this critiquing spirit, there is a voice of silence,
a silent philosophy. There are certain voices that call for change
as we will see from popular or low culture and resistant Cynic
philosophers such as Diogenes of Sinope (412-323 BCE).
Given the intellectual history that I mentioned above,
including both text (Greco-Roman world) and interpreters in history,
our first postmodern figure, Derrida, arrives to critique logocentrism
and a singular construction of meaning that fails to account for
multiple contexts and an interaction of signifiers. Meaning is not a given in the text but is negotiated,
as he says: interpretation is “a knot of negotiation” full of
“different rhythms, different forces, different differential vibrations
of time and rhythm.” Meaning is “technical and representative” as
Derrida continues:
All signifiers,
and first and foremost the written signifier, are derivative with
regard to what would wed the voice indissolubly to the mind or
to the thought of the signified sense, indeed to the thing itself…….The
written signifier is always technical and representative. It has
no constitutive meaning…...This notion remains therefore within
the heritage of that logocentrism which is also a phonocentrism: absolute proximity of voice and being, of voice
and the meaning of being, of voice and ideality of meaning.
Therefore, rejecting
a singular notion of the body and the text, Derrida introduces a différance connoting two
things: to defer or to differ. Meaning should not be taken as
permanent and each meaning should be different in contexts. Derrida
states that “différance is the name we might give to the ‘active,’
moving discord of different forces, and of differences of forces,
that Nietzsche sets up against the entire system of metaphysical
grammar, wherever this system governs culture, philosophy, and
science.”
For Derrida deconstruction is possible because the
written text is not a correct or genuine mirror of reality. Therefore,
the search for a fixed meaning is an illusion. Rather, meaning,
in its most faithful form that allows for a self-critical, humbling
spirit, is a negotiation between readers, signifiers and contexts. Derrida does not believe in one, fixed, universal
meaning in any written text. This critique is twofold. One is to deconstruct
the text. Another is to revolutionize the concept of text, the
boundary of the text, which includes written and unwritten texts
such as cultural location. Not only is the written text deconstructed
but its readers as well. The best term to account for his meaning
search can be found in the neologism “différance.” Hermeneutically, it is possible to pursue a
multiple, complex meaning without claiming to have a single, universal
truth/knowledge about the body. More importantly, deconstruction itself is
not a method but a spirit or meta-critique of logo-centrism. In the end, deconstruction itself is not a
purpose; Derrida’s ultimate interests lie in the vision for a
just world, and the reconstruction of such a world based on more
diversified views and contexts.
Foucault, our second postmodern figure, is the first
person to place the body at the center of our intellectual inquiry. The old paradigm that Foucault rejects is the
mechanical or dualistic, hierarchical view of the body based on
unified, transcendental subjectivity. With this old paradigm, science-driven Enlightenment
establishes the body as an object while Platonic hierarchical
dualism posits the body as a heavy burden and prison cell. However,
Foucault, seeing the body as connected to a wide web of political
and personal struggle, deplores the manipulation and oppression
of human bodies by the hegemonic power of society. For him, as McLaren points out, the body is
“more than the locus of subjectivity; it is the very condition
of subjectivity.” In other words, his hermeneutic of body aims
at re-covering the body from social control. For this goal, Foucault
centers on knowledge, power and subjectivity. His first period works show that knowledge
is not neutral; production of knowledge becomes a tool for social
control and legitimation: “the exercise of power perpetually creates
knowledge and, conversely, knowledge constantly induces effects
of power.” Then, in his second period works, Foucault
turns to “power,” which he understands as a network operating
through discourses, institutions, and other practices in culture. Power exercises on human bodies: “What was
then being formed was a policy of coercions that act on the body,
a calculated manipulation of its elements, its gestures, its
behavior. The human body was entering a machinery of power that
explores it, breaks it down and rearranges it…Thus, discipline
produces subjected and practiced bodies, ‘docile’ bodies.” In his last period works, he moves to the question
of subjectivity, and ethics. In the last works such as in “The Ethic of Care for the Self as a Practice of Freedom,”
Foucault focuses on subjectivity that individuals may alter power
relationships with the spirit of resistance against society’s
unitary, hegemonic, disciplinary practices of power on individual
bodies. McLaren rightly points out Foucault’s hermeneutical
shift to the importance of the human body as a site for
resistance, transformation, and agency.
Our last postmodern figure, Ricoeur, advocating the
hermeneutics of “balance, others, and intersubjectivity,” emphasizes
the dialogical nature of text and reader in terms of balance,
asserting that both text and reader play together in the making
of meaning. The text does not lose its intrinsic value
or essence while the readers sit idly; but the reader must interact
with the text because, for Ricoeur, “the task of philosophy is
to avoid the skepticism that doubts everything while at the same
time abandoning the ideal of total certainty.” For Ricoeur, an important hermeneutical question
concerns the question of “who: who speaks? Who acts? Who tells
a story? And who is the subject of moral imputation?” This is a mutual process between the text and
reader. Neither dominates.
In this kind of creative tense-full relationship between
the text and the reader, the centerpiece of hermeneutical process
is the role of “others”:
“The polysemy
of otherness, . . . will imprint upon the entire ontology of acting
the seal of the diversity of sense that foils the ambition of
arriving at an ultimate foundation, characteristic of the cogito
philosophies.”
The role of “others” can be found in narrative, which is broadly defined
to include discourses, personal stories, and others’ stories. One’s identity or story is never one’s own;
it is co-dependent and interrelated with that of others. This
thought is made possible when Ricoeur conceives two sides of identity:
an idem-identity (sameness, character) and an ipse-identity
(self-affirmed identities, sense of selfhood, promise keeping). Because personal identity is never one’s own
but a mutual business, a narrative identity is formed from the
dynamic relationship between an idem-identity and an ipse-identity.
As Cohen succinctly put it: “So the dialectic of sameness and
selfhood has two poles: character, where sameness and permanence
of dispositions constitute selfhood; and promising, where selfhood
is maintained in spite of change, or in the absence of sameness.” An idem-identity is genetic and distinguishable
over time, like character. However, in situations like a quagmire
in life, Ricoeur introduces another aspect of identity by asking
questions such as “Who am I?” (an ipse-identity,
affirmed selfhood), “what should I do?” or “how can I be faithful
or committed to a life of us and you?” The essential question
is, Who am I in relation to you? Through this question, intersubjectivity
comes in one’s own identity. Because of his balanced, others-oriented
hermeneutics, Ricoeur’s ethics of “lived body” (corps propre) stands out as he put it:
“That is,
of a body which is also my body and which,
by its double allegiance to the order of physical bodies and to
that of persons, therefore lies at the point of articulation of
the power to act which is ours and of the course of things which
belongs to the world order.”
In summary, each “postmodern” scholar has different
hermeneutical or contextual concerns. Derrida is more concerned
about the abusive use of the text as a weapon for imperial, dominant,
hegemonic control of human life; Foucault throws sharp light on
the condition of the body, analyzing social, political, philosophical
control of the body in history. Ricoeur, dissatisfied with a single/narrow
sense of discourse divided between the text and the reader, tries
to overcome that gap both through a more balanced understanding
of the text and through intersubjectivity. These three figures
together shed new light on the body hermeneutics. First, they
all critique a narrow sense of the community and of ethics by
deconstructing the written text (Derrida), by de(re)constructing
the body (Foucault) and by emphasizing the role of otherness in
a narrative identity (Ricoeur).
However, Ricoeur, with his focus on “narrative” text,
does not fully account for the voice of “others” from the marginalized
or for unequal relationships in society. He considers somewhat
naively “others” and personal identity as an individual level
of reciprocity in human relationship, resembling the Aristotelian
ethics of reciprocity. In other words, Ricoeur does not seriously
analyze socio-economic, political or cultural aspects of identity
and subjectivity, as contrasted with Foucault’s extensive analysis
of the body and society. With this limit, however, Ricoeur’s hermeneutic
anthropology based on the narrative identity awakens our sense
of responsible ethics to the degree that human existence is never
complete without others. Together with Derrida and Foucault, Ricoeur
gives us a new eye to analyze the community, history, the text,
and readers from a marginalized perspective. Often, the hermeneutical
problem is that interpreters do not easily recognize the hidden,
marginalized voice.