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Discourse as Event: Foucault,
Writing, and Literature
John Johnston
In the second Preface to what he claimed was his first book (having
disavowed his chronologically first book), Michel Foucault writes:
"I would like that this object-event [by which he means Madness and
Civilization], almost imperceptible among so many others, re-copy,
fragment, repeat, simulate and double itself, [and] disappear fi-
nally without ever allowing the one who happened to produce it to
be able to claim mastery over it, to impose what he meant, to say
what he had to say." In the same Preface, however, Foucault also
states that he wants his book to be "simultaneously battle and arms,
strategy and shock, struggle and trophy (or wound), conjuncture
and vestige, irregular encounter and repeatable scene."1
While these two desires are not exactly contradictory, it is not
immediately clear how they are related. I would like to suggest that
they reflect or at least anticipate two distinguishable aspects of a
theorization of writing Foucault will pursue until at least midway
through his career: the first assumes a highly self-conscious mod-
ernist conception of writing as a self-reflexive activity that dis-
places the writer and dispossesses him or her of a coherent iden-
tity; the second yields a more combative image of writing as a tran-
sitive intervention, a means by which the hardly visible coercive
powers of discourse are confronted, wrestled with, even subverted,
thereby revealing the ultimate inadequacy of discursive knowl-
I Michel Foucault, Histoire de la folie & l'age classique (Paris: Gallimard, 1972), 10;
my translation.
MLN, 105, (1990): 800-818 C 1990 by The Johns Hopkins University Press
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M L N 801
2 Michel Foucault, "On Literature," in Foucault Live (Interviews 1966-84) tr. John
Johnston (New York: Semiotexte, Foreign Agents Series, 1989), 118-19.
3 Michel Foucault, The Order of Things (New York: Random House Vintage
Books, 1973; orig. pub. 1966), 44. For a fuller elucidation of the shift from the
Classical to the Modern gpistgm&, see 299-300 and the entire section, "The Return of
Language," 303-07.
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802 JOHN JOHNSTON
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804 JOHN JOHNSTON
ness reveals itself; it is the blind spot of their possibilities and their mu-
tual exclusion.5
5 Michel Foucault, "La Folie, l'absence d'oeuvre," in La Table Ronde (1964), no.
196, 19. In the first Preface to the original edition of Histoire de lafolie (Paris: Plon,
1961), Foucault describes madness as "words deprived of a language" to which he
would like to re-open our ears: "all those words deprived of language whose muf-
fled rumbling, for an attentive ear, rises up from the depths of history, the obsti-
nate murmur of a language which speaks by itself, uttered by no one and answered
by no one, a language which stifles itself, sticks in the throat, collapses before
having attained formulation and returns, without incident, to the silence from
which it had never been freed. The charred root of meaning."
6 All quotations which follow are taken from the English translation by Ian
McLeod which appears in Untying the Text, ed. Robert Young (Boston: Routledge &
Kegan Paul, 1981), 51-76. Also relevant to Foucault's notion of "discourse as event"
is his discussion of his strategy of "eventalization" developed in his contribution to
L'Impossible Prison, ed. Michelle Perrot (Paris Editions du Seuil, 1980), esp. 43-46.
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M L N 805
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806 JOHN JOHNSTON
grain prices, rather than the colorful narrative dramas with which
we are familiar. These historians analyze what appears to be the
continuous flow of history into a highly stratified and discon-
tinuous series of events which take place at different levels and
according to different rhythms of regularity. Such studies have no
methodological use for notions of consciousness and continuity
(with their correlative problems of freedom and causality), or even
for structure and sign. What allows the series and event to be
mapped are notions of regularity, chance (alea), discontinuity, de-
pendence (or conditions of possibility), and transformation.
Nevertheless, Foucault acknowledges that if we are to treat dis-
course as sets of discursive events, there are philosophical
problems we must confront, starting with the status of the event
itself. Neither substance nor accident, quality nor process, the
event occurs neither at the level of bodies nor in some immaterial
realm. It is, rather, a material effect with a specific locus, as Fou-
cault's definition suggests: "it consists in the relation, the coexis-
tence, the dispersion, the overlapping, the accumulation, and the
selection of material elements. It is not the act or the property of a
body; it is produced as an effect of, and within, a dispersion of
matter. Let us say that the philosophy of the event should move in
the at first paradoxical direction of a materialism of the incor-
poral."7
A second philosophical problem is the status of the discontinuity
of the series of discursive events, for this discontinuity is neither a
temporal one nor a matter of the plurality of thinking subjects: "It
is a question of caesurae which break up the instant and disperse
the subject into a plurality of possible positions and functions,"
thus invalidating what are traditionally the smallest recognizable
units, "the instant and the subject."8 Beneath these units and
acting independently of them are relations between the discon-
tinuous series which are not of the order of succession (or simulta-
neity) within one (or several consciousnesses), and which thus
cannot be conceived in the terms of a philosophy of time and the
7 For more on the "incorporality" of the "event," see Foucault's "Theatrum Phi-
losophicum," an essay-review of Gilles Deleuze's Difference et repetition and Logique
du sens, two books which no doubt strongly influenced Foucault. The essay appears
in English in Language, Counter-Memory, Practice, 165-96.
8 Foucault discusses this "dispersion" of the subject throughout various positions
and "enunciative modalities" in the Archaeology of Knowledge, tr. A. M. Sheridan
Smith (New York: Pantheon Books, 1972, orig. pub. 1969), 54-55.
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M L N 807
9 Deleuze argues in his book on Foucault that the notion of an "outside" and a
"fold in being" are essential to Foucault's philosophical underpinning, while also
indicating how Foucault distinguishes himself from Heidegger and phenome-
nology in regard to these formulations. See Gilles Deleuze, Foucault, tr. Sean Hand
(Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1988, orig. pub. 1986), 94-123.
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808 JOHN JOHNSTON
cific object of power, both a site and object of struggle. Yet the
relationship is still more complex, since Foucault shows that savoir
and pouvoir presuppose and produce one another reciprocally:
knowledge presupposes and produces power, power presupposes
and produces knowledge. In Discipline and Punish, for example,
Foucault shows that after the French revolution the exercise of a
new kind of power constantly created new forms of knowledge
which in turn engendered and consolidated this new kind of
power.
Rather than pursue these larger themes, let us return to the spe-
cific type of discourse that Western society classifies as "literature."
If Foucault's early views on literature center on "the language of
being" and literature as a formal ontology, his later interests are
more concerned with questions about the selection, circulation, sa-
cralization and institutionalization of certain texts deemed "lit-
erary."'0 At the same time, there are observable, underlying conti-
nuities with his earlier interests. In fact, in the essay Foucault pub-
lished on Jean Pierre Brisset and the dossier he compiled on Pierre
Riviere, to which we shall now turn, we see evidence of both.
At the beginning of "Seven Proposals on the Seventh Angel"
and then towards the end, Foucault allusively suggests two entirely
different contexts for considering Brisset's work. The first is his-
torical, and would situate Brisset within the centuries-old tradition
of scholarly research on the origin of language. During the course
of the nineteenth century this tradition gradually drew more and
more upon and was itself drawn more into a kind of linguistic de-
lirium. This de'rive-both a derivation and a drift-becomes
quickly apparent in Brisset's published books. In fact, his Gram-
maire logique, when presented to the Academie Francaise, was re-
jected immediately by Ernest Renan, and in 1913 Brisset himself
was made the butt of an elaborate practical joke by Jules Romains,
who invited him to Paris to receive a prize as "prince des penseurs."
In this way, however, Brisset came to the attention of the Parisian
avant-garde.-1
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M L N 809
12 For accounts of Brisset's work that set him in this tradition, see Michel
Pierssens, The Power of Babel: A Study of Logophilia (London: Routledge & Kegan
Paul, 1980), and Jean-Jacques Lecercle, Philosophy Through the Looking Glass (La
Salle: Open Court, 1985).
13 Michel Foucault, Sept propos sur le septieme ange (Montpellier: Fata Morgana,
1986, orig. pub. 1970), 14; my translation. Page numbers to all subsequent page
references will be inserted in the text after the abbreviation Sept.
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810 JOHN JOHNSTON
Le demon = le doit mien. Le demon montre son de, son dais, ou son dieu,
son sexe . . . La construction inverse du mot demon donne: le mon di = le
mien dieu. Le monde ai = je possede le monde. Le demon devient ainsi
le maitre du monde en vertu de sa perfection sexuelle ... Dans son
sermon il appelait son serf: le serf mon. Le sermon est un serviteur du
demon. Viens dans le lit mon: le limon etait son lit, son sejour habituel.
C'etait un fort sauteur et le premier des saumons. Voir le beau saut mon.
(Sept, 15)
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M L N 811
Voici les salauds pris; ils sont dans la sale eau pris, dans la salle aux pris. Les
pris etaient les prisonniers que l'on devait egorger. En attendant le jour
des pris, qui etaient aussi celui des prix, on les enfermait dans une salle,
une eau sale, oui on leur jetait des saloperies. La' on les insultait, on les
appelait salauds. Le pris avait du prix. On le devorait, et, pour tendre un
piege, on offrait du pris et du prix: c'est du prix. C'est duperie, repon-
dait le sage, n'accepte pas de prix, o homme, c'est duperie.
(Sept, 27-28)
(Sept, 31)
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812 JOHN JOHNSTON
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814 JOHN JOHNSTON
14 Michel Foucault, "I, Pierre Riviere," in Foucault Live: Interviews (1966-84), 132.
15 Michel Foucault, "Tales of Murder," in I, Pierre Riviere, having slaughtered my
mother, my sister, and my brother. . ., ed. Michel Foucault, tr. Frank Jellinek (Lincoln
and London: University of Nebraska Press, 1982, orig. pub. 1973), 200. Page
numbers to all subsequent references will be inserted in the text after the abbrevia-
tion I Pierre.
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M L N 815
bled from the outset, and yet these doubles are all aspects of the
same. When first arrested, Riviere is unable to tell what he thinks is
the "truth" of his crime and feigns madness: he was commanded
by God to kill his mother, who had made his father miserable, and
threatened to ruin him utterly. At a certain point in the interroga-
tion, however, he abandons this version and gives a completely dif-
ferent account in which he confesses that he himself had planned
the crime. This account is then written out in jail over a period of
twelve days. In the ensuing trial, this written account becomes the
chief piece of evidence for both prosecution and defense, since it
contains, at one and the same time, "signs of lucidity" for the
former as well as "signs of madness" for the latter. Most important,
for neither side does the account exist outside the crime; rather, it
forms part of it.
Significantly, neither in the writing of the narrative nor in the
text itself is there a simple chronological sequence. As Foucault
puts it, "The text does not relate directly to the deed; a whole web
of relations is woven between the one and the other; they support
one another and carry one another in everchanging relations" (I
Pierre, 201). Originally, Riviere intended to write the memoire
first, starting with an announcement of the crime, followed by an
explanation of his father and mother's impossible life together,
then concluding with the reasons for the deed. Upon completion
of this draft, he intended to commit the crime, mail the manu-
script, and then kill himself. This order undergoes two subsequent
changes, the final result being that the me'moire is not written until
well after the murder, which was followed by a month of confused
wanderings and a series of false statements. However, when Ri-
viere finally does write it, he emphasizes that "he had considered
most of the words he would put in it"; it was, in short, a "me'moire
stored beforehand in a memory" (I Pierre, 202).16
A second characteristic of Riviere's text is its "verbo-ballistic" na-
ture. As suggested above, from the outset the text functioned as
neither confession nor defense but as a factor in the crime. For
Foucault, the manner in which the text and murder continually
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816 JOHN JOHNSTON
change places or move around one another simply means that they
are stages in the operation and production of a single mechanism,
"the murder/narrative":
(I Pierre, 202)
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M L N 817
speaker displays his murder for all to see, isolates himself in it,
summons the law and calls for both memory and execration" (I
Pierre, 208). It is this already constituted historical field of popular
knowledge that makes Riviere's premeditated murder/me'moire pos-
sible, since it operates and has its effect at a certain level of popular
discursive practice and of the knowledge bound up with it. What is
striking, however, is that "in the inextricable unity of his parricide
and his text he really played the game of the law." For as Foucault
emphasizes, that Riviere played this familiar game simultaneously
on both registers, as author of the crime and author of the text, as
subject of the deed and subject of discourse, appeared in the eyes
of his contemporaries not so much as insane or irrational as truly
monstrous.
In the institution of criminal justice, however, Riviere's writing
machine or verbo-ballistic mechanism became an object of scrutiny
in a new and different field no longer constituted by the rules and
assumptions of popular knowledge. It was a field in which the sub-
jects who spoke did not have the same status, in which the dis-
courses were not the same type of event and did not produce the
same type of effects. It was, in short, a field in which Riviere's
"deed/text was subjected to a threefold question of truth: truth of
fact, truth of opinion, and truth of science. To a discursive act, a
discourse in act, profoundly committed to the rules of popular
knowledge there was applied a question derived elsewhere and ad-
ministered by others" (I Pierre, 210).
Foucault's curt and understated phrase-"a question derived
elsewhere and administered by others"-chillingly points up the
radical recontextualization which the Riviere "case" undergoes.
Needless to say, in this new context of "truth" the very terms of the
discourse must disallow in advance the peculiar power and
forceful beauty of Riviere's "deed/text." To the silence it neces-
sarily met, Foucault now responds some hundred and fifty years
later, from within the confines of a juridical and psychiatric dis-
course that has grown ever more refined and constricting, with a
scholarly volume within which that muted event can reverberate
once again.
In a recent book on Foucault, John Rajchman argues that in the
1970's Foucault abandons his earlier interest in modernist litera-
ture as "a tradition of great works . . . or texts referring to one
another in the infinite web of intertextuality," and begins to treat
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818 JOHN JOHNSTON
And if from the early Middle Ages to the present day the "adventure" is
an account of individuality, the passage from the epic to the novel, from
the noble deed to the secret singularity, from long exiles to the internal
search for childhood, from combats to phantasies, it is also inscribed in
the formation of a disciplinary society. The adventure of our childhood
no longer finds expression in "le bon petit Henri," but in the misfortunes
of "little Hans." The Romance of the Rose is written today by Mary Barnes;
in the place of Lancelot, we have Judge Schreber.19
Emory University
17John Rajchman, Michel Foucault: The Freedom of Philosophy (New York: Co-
lumbia University Press, 1985), 33.
18 Foucault's work has of course been heralded for providing in part the theoret-
ical foundations of the New Historicism. For one example, see D. A. Miller's The
Novel and the Police (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1987), which studies
the 19th-century novel in relation to the carceral society Foucault depicts in Disci-
pline and Punish.
19 Michel Foucault, Discipline & Punish, tr. Alan Sheridan (New York: Random
House Vintage Books, 1979, orig. pub. 1975), 193-94.
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