· · b "It ·n the studio where two professional boxers came to perform A boxmg nng was u1 1

. · d f two months Punches and embraces were portrayed life-real fights for a peno o

. ·

size in black indian ink on 22 white canvases.

.

OOmX I..iO"' I k . d. I k on white canvas, 2. Judy Werthein, Jorge Ruiz vs. Julio Cesar Ramirez- 1996, b ac m lan n

Profane Illuminations

JACQUES-ALAIN MILLER

translated by BARBARA P. FULKS

1. A PsYCHOANALYSIS IN Two PARTS

BINARY OPPOSITIONS

Here we are, starting a new academic year.* Last Sunday I presented a small articulation that I will reproduce for you on the board. 1 I've reduced it to its simplest form, that is to say to a succession of binary oppositions which I said had to be superimposed. This small reference point can be useful for us.

Symptom I Sinthome truth I jouissance desire I drive tuche I automaton lack I hole lack in being I being subject I speaking-being fparletre] phantasm I body

!

10 lacanian ink

I opposed the symptom to the sinthome and the opposition of truth and jouissance became apparent, since the sinthome affects every­

thing, except a decoding of truth. I found the dichotomy opposing

desire and drive in our usage of Freudo-Lacanian terms. There, too, the operation of decoding has a meaning concerning desire, but not when it is a matter of understanding or learning something about the drive. One might add here, using the opposition that Lacan produced in his Seminar XI, a pair which I didn't talk about

Sunday: the tucM and the automaton. I have aligned the lack and

the hole-the lack of a signifier as opposed to the central hole of

the ball of string, for example. I added the lack in being, which

defines the Lacanian subject and which I opposed to the being of

the symptom, and I've recuperated this opposition in order to show

that it works between the subject and the parletre introduced by

the later Lacan. The subject is a punctual and fading function, a

position which does not imply any being, but rather a deduction, if

I might say, since the parletre disposes of a much more important

foundation. I would add the opposition between the phantasm and

the body, especially because the usage that we make of the phantasm

bars us from the term for the body and its instance. If we wanted to

firm up these oppositions- they tie together in a very subtle way in

Lacan's text-we could say that we will see, in this scene, another

psychoanalysis emerge than that which we know and on which we

depend, a psychoanalysis in two parts, and- why not go there- of

Lacan, through an effect of diplopia [double vision]. I've assigned

this effect to one of Lac an's efforts in order to think about what is

unthinkable in his own discourse.

We are familiar with rejoicing over the continuity of Lacan's

Seminars, questioning this or that element in order to open a new

path. This goes as far as saying that he didn't want to leave to the

others, to the readers, the concern of "going beyond" him. In each

Seminar he goes beyond himself. He needed no one! This effort

to think his unthought, to take himself into account, made him take

himself to the other side of his own teaching. And the vain effort

Profane Illuminations 11

to decode the sinthome in terms of truth, or to think only of lack where there is hole, and to refer only to the subject where one must

manipulate a weightier category more consistent than the subject,

is laughable!

The dichotomy of the subject and the parletre is fecund. Fecund enough to show us some very essential differences.

A THESIS ABOUT THE STORY After the Sunday lecture, I was grabbed by this very Borgesian idea of t

_wo Lacans. So I re-read "Tli::in Uqbar Orbis Tertius," the story wh1ch opens the collection, Fictions. We find there the descrip­

tion of a library, of books which circulate in an imaginary space created by a conspiracy which little by little filters into ordinary reality. This is what is said about these imaginary books: "The books of philosophical nature invariably contain the thesis and the counter-thesis and the rigorous pros and cons of a doctrine." I will state the following sentence in Spanish, before translating it: "Un libro que no encierra su contra-libro es considerado incompleto"; "A book which does not contain its counter-book is considered incomplete." I found there the statement I was looking for. Lacan 's teaching is so complete that it includes its counter-teaching. He did not leave anyone in charge of diffusing his counter-teaching. It could be-why not?-that this teaching itself has the structure of a story. I referred to a short text of another Argentine author, Ricardo Piglia, who gives us a thesis, even various ones, about the story: a �aradox is always at the center of a story and, so that this piece of literature can work, the intrigue is always paradoxical. The paradox here would be that Lacan, who himself praised speech as constituitive of the subject, comes to disqualify it by calling it "chit-chat" of the speaking-being [parletre]. From the function of exalted speech to disparaged chit-chat. Piglia finds his example in Chekov's Tales, imagining that the nucleus of a story is there. Here it is: "A man goes to the casino at Monte Carlo, wins a million, returns to his place and commits

12 lacanian ink

suicide." If this is the nucleus of a story, one must, in order to

tell it, divide the twisted story in two: on the one hand, the story

of the game; on the other, that of the suicide. Thus Piglia's first

thesis: that a story always has a double characteristic and always

tells two stories at the same time, which provides the opportunity

to distinguish the story which is on the first plane from the number

2 story which is encoded in the interstices of story number 1. We

should note that story number 2 only appears when the story is

concluded, and it has the effect of surprise. W hat joins these two

stories is that the elements, the events, are inscribed in two narra­

tive registers which are at the same time distinct, simultaneous, and

antagonistic, and the construction itself of the story is supported by

the junction between the two stories. The inversions which seem

superfluous in the development of story number 1 become, on the

contrary, essential in the plot of story number 2. Thus the technical

problem: how to tell a story while one is telling another one. And

thesis number two: the secret story is the key to the form of the story.

THE HIDDEN pART OF THE STORY

There is a modem form of the story which transforms this structure

by omitting the surprise finale without closing the structure of the

story, which leaves a trace of a narrative, and the tension of the

two stories is never resolved. This is what one considers as being

properly modem: the subtraction of the final anchoring point which

allows the two stories to continue in an unresloved tension.

This is the case, says Piglia, with Hemingway, who pushed

the ellipse to its highest point in such a way that the secret story

remains hermetic. One perceives simply that there is another story

which needs to be told, but which remains absent. There is a hole.

If one modified Chekov's note in Hemingway's style, it would not

narrate the suicide, but rather the text would be assembled in such

a way that one might think that the reader already knew it.

Kafka constitutes another of these variants. He narrates

very simply, in his novels, the most secret story, a secret story

Profane Illuminations 13

which appears on the first plane, told as if coming from itself, and

he encodes the story which should be visible but which becomes,

on the contrary, enigmatic and hidden.

One sees then, along the lines of Chekov 's note, the story

of a suicide on the first plane and made banal, while the terrible event would be the part about the game itself. The Borgesian

variant consists in telling story number 1 as belonging to a literary

genre, that is to say making use of the old stereotypes of a tradition,

parodying them, and the internal story, secret, is always the same:

the encounter of a man with a unique act or a unique scene which

defines his destiny. Moreover, says Piglia, Borges makes of the

encoded construction of the story the theme itself of the narrative:

he narrates and makes visible all the maneuvers done to pervert the

normal and to construct a secret plot with the materials of a visible

story in such a way that the supposedly technical problems of the

form of the literary narrative become the anecdote itself recounted

in the narrative. The final effect is well formulated by Piglia: "The

story is constructed to make something which was hidden appear

artificially. It reproduces the always renewed search for a unique

experience which lets us see, under the opaque surface of life, a

secret truth." He quotes Rimbaud: "The instantaneous vision which

makes us discover the unknown is not situated in a faraway terra

incognita, but rather in the very heart of the immediate."2

I've already alluded to an allusion to this phenomenon in

several of Borges' stories. 3 One at first sees a plot woven, a con­

spiracy of a few characters, which then is extended to the whole of

humanity. The conspirators climb into a carriage, promenade, and

understand that the secret that they are looking for is everywhere,

that the secret resides in the totality. This is what Piglia is referring

to here. His last sentence struck me: "This profane illumination

is converted into the form itself of the story." This illumination of

the immediate is made without reference to God, without reference to anything transcendent.

Our friend Philippe Sollers has just published a thick novel:

I

l

� I

14 lacanian ink

Une vie divine [A Divine Life]-4 His own, no doubt. This divine

life is not without relationship, perhaps inverse, to the profane

illumination that Piglia evokes here.

If I dared, I would call this year's course: "Profane

Ilurninations."

The literary view is obviously informed by psychoanalysis.

We have all the possible echoes of "Function and Field of Speech

and of Language." We find ourselves comfortable with Borges and

with Piglia because they are writers from the epoque of psycho­

analysis. Psychoanalysis finds its place in these writings.

2. A THEORY OF THE PRACTICE

This reference to writing seems useful to me in order to understand

what Lacan meant, at the beginning of one year, by writing on

the board: "The essence of psychoanalytic theory is a discourse

without speech."5 W hat is it? It is a mute discourse? A secret

discourse? Is it the famous Lichtenberg's knife, one without a blade

whose handle is missing? Is that what discourse without speech is?

One must understand in Lacanian orientation an orientation

toward a discourse reduced to writing. The logic, the establishment

of a logic, always passes through a reduction of material. One rec­

ognizes its emergence, for example, when one transforms a sentence

to a proposition, and this proposition itself can be substit�ted by th�

letter A, and thus, become empty of meaning. It matters little what 1t

says; one only retains it as distinct elements bearing a value of trut�.

W hen Lacan evokes discourse without speech, he lS

referring to a written discourse. It's a bit myste1ious to call it the

essence of theory. But at least it is not the existence of the practice,

since it is speech which comes to the first plane. In psychoanaly­

sis, speech is like Piglia's number 1 story, and at the same time,

what is written of this speech comes to form writing. One can at

least say that theory is supported by a writing which is transmitted

as invariable.

Profane Illuminations 15

Moreover, what is the essence of religion, at least of the

great religions? Isn't it also a discourse without speech? Here it is a matter of sacred writings. In our times, given our relativ­

ism- not that of others, but the profound relativism of Catholicism

and of Protestantism-Islam shows us the price one can put on

a discourse without speech when it is called the Koran. Every

attack on this writing, every demonstration of the materiality of the

Koran, provokes an emotion before which one can only bow, and which questions the other religions of the Book about the cooler

relationship they have with their sacred writing. It is Islam which

teaches what a sacred writing can be, and the pathos, the emotion

entailed. Moreover, the respect for writings gives rise to their being bled dry over the centuries and centuries and centuries. And

as for the sciences, as long as their discourse does not crystallize

in mathematical formulas applicable to the blind, their scientific

quality can be doubted. To the credit of psychoanalysis, it's a practice which has

its effects. This is why I do not find at all unusual what one of the

numerous co-authors of Livre Nair de Ia psychanalyse [Black Book of Psychoanalysis] invented. (I recruited him for the Department

of Psychoanalysis a long time ago-the very same department in whose bosom I express myself today.) He must have had a very

bad interview here for him to have taken that route! But it is not futile for him to say that psychoanalytic theory is a zero theory. It

is not so far from "the essence of psychoanalytic theory is a dis­

course without speech." Lacan means that psychoanalytic theory

is a theory of the psychoanalytic practice; it is not a theory of the

unconscious as such. That there exists a practice of psychoanalysis is in effect what is certain to give credit to psychoanalysis. For

the rest, there have been multiple theories to take into account the

effects of this practice, and Lacan had the weakness to think that what he elaborated was the closest to the effects that one can get

in this practice.

The distinction to be made here, indicative of the futility of

16 lacanian ink

these enterprises, is that while the practice subsists with its effects, Le Livre Nair is zero.

Is there a transmission through writing alone? Lacan said

that Freud thought up the unconscious, but that he could not put the

experience which instituted his regime on its feet: "It was left for me to do it."6 He makes a very profound distinction between the unconscious, its cogitation, and the introduction of an experience

which finally puts the unconscious on the path of its discourse. He

gives a priceless indication by considering that Freud did not focus

on the structure of the analytic experience of his time.

3. CoNSEQUENCE OF DiscouRSE

A NEGATION AT THE LEVEL OF THE REAL

The opposition between Piglia's story number 1 and story number 2

is not unlike what we have distinguished since [the logical-positiv­ist philosopher Rudolph] Carnap, that is, two essential languages:

the language-object and metalanguage. This distinction to which

Lacan referred comes from La syntaxe logique du langage [The

Logical Syntax of Language]. It is always a matter of the facts of

logical syntax of a language, since its principal and even unique interest bears on already formalized languages. He calls logical

syntax the formal theory of the linguistic forms of the language,

and he distinguishes the language which is the object of our

investigation from that which he calls metalanguage, in which we

address the subject of the linguistic forms of the language-object. Bertrand Russell said about this distinction, in the introduction to Wittgentein's Tractatus, that an infinite hierarchy was opened

there, without limits, one which could be translated in terms of

metalanguage which is included successively to infinity.7 That idea

was very Borge sian also. In Meaning and Truth, Russell takes care to say that this hierarchy of fluctuating metalanguages has only a progressive infinite, since, in another sense, there must be a primary

language-object, so that the language itself can begin- get started.

Profane Illuminations 17

I

r---1

He gives a very delicious portrait of this primary language, since not much remains of it-the reduction is maximized. It is a lan­

guage about which one can only say what it is, and only proffer

some assertions. The negation supposes this language-object and

appears thus already as metalanguage number 1, in such a way that

the assertion at the primary level of language has no antithesis, has

no contrary. It is exactly the contrary of Borges' book of "Tlon,"

which always contains its contrary, which never promenades without its contrary. Here, the assertion corresponding to the

primary language has no antithesis. Thus, negation is relegated to metalanguage number 1. It is already necessary for one to have

said that there is some butter in the pantry [il y a du beurre dans le

cagibi] -one must already know what beurre is and that there is

some, so that one can put some in the pantry-in order to say there isn't any. It is thus referred back to a superior level.

Now we understand the difficulties that Lacan dragged

around for several years with his negative assertion, "There is no

sexual relationship." He asked himself, until he couldn't take it

any more, about negation and abo�t the correctness of formulating

a negation of this type at a level which is that of the real, which is

not so far from what Russell called "the primary." How can one, at the primary level, state a negation? For Russell, the language­

object only consists of object words, or word objects, which have

the characteristic of having meaning in isolation. They have

meaning by themselves and they can be learned without suppos­ing other words. In other words, he very clearly rejects here the

I I

'I

I

I

u

18 lacanian ink

Jakobsonian binarism and the notion that the word only has meaning when articulated in a system. Moreover, the image that we have of language from Russell is that it is cut off from any real effect, from any consequence.

EFFECT OF THE SYMBOLIC IN THE REAL This is where we have to think about the consequence of discourse. The exigence of a discourse which entails a consequence is under­stood in Lacan's teaching, and it is the main difference between him and those who think that discourse in itself is chit-chat, as an earlier Lacan said.

The consequence of discourse is understood in two ways. First, there is the logician's artifice, which consists in detaching from spoken languages a zone which is an enclave, a zone where it is a matter of things as if ... then ... , of deductions, of demonstrations, of implications, of certain conclusions, with measured lexicons and grammars. In this zone, which is like an enclave in spoken language, it is a question of consequence, which Carnap deals with. That gave us, in effect, a certain know ledge of consequence, which perhaps one can find best represented in the utopia of a universal language such as, for example, the one the famous Bishop Wilkins dreamed about in the seventeenth century. I say famous! But he is not so famous. It is in Borges-reprised by Lacan8-that one hears first about Bishop Wilkins, who worked on the construction of an artificial language which he proposed for all nations. But Bishop Wilkins' universal language as this logical enclave in language is not a language, since no one speaks it; it is only a written and invented language.

And then, there is the consequence, in the sense of what discourse revives in the real. It is there that discourse would not be vain. The word "consequence" means here effect of the symbolic in the real. It is what we call structure, that is to say knowledge as cause. It is interesting that Lacan number 2 ended in making this niche in Lacan number 1, of defining structure as in the real and not in the symbolic. We believe, however, that we learned the contrary,

Profane Illuminations 19

but we learn it from Lacan number 1. Lacan number 2 considered as absurd that structure could be other than in the real.

NATURE

In order to try to understand something about it, we must reach back to something to which thought we had bade a fond farewell, something called ecology. It is nature. Nature-the idea, the fact of nature, its existence-has nourished innumerable contempla­tions and phantasmagorias over the course of centuries. Descartes himself, valiant cavalier, succumbed in his physics to the hypothesis of windmills. It is a phantasmagoria. And with all this jumble, mathematical physics, as it was born in the seventeenth century, is distinguished by the real consequences it was capable of offering to nature, including dreaming of the annihilation of humanity, and moreover without any sort of judgement. The verdict is not certain, but we are haunted by the idea of the annihilation of humanity, of all humanity, without judgement, by the combined effect of stupidity and madness. Kubrick's great film, Doctor Strange/ave,

demonstrates this very well. You see, in front of your eyes, the process which leads to the destruction of the planet and which is due to a mix, a melange of madness and stupidity. What must we conclude? That the symbolic has entered into the real. This is the classic Lac ani an version. We can also say- and this is less clas­sic-that we find not the real, but a real, that this science is tailor made to be imposed on nature. Must one say the real? Must one say a real? And what value is each of these expressions likely to take? In any case, as chewed up as nature is-or one imagines it is-by the real or by the symbolic, it is defined-this is where Lac an leads us-by no discourse having any consequence.

Some research was done about the meaning of the word "nature" in The Veil of Isis: An Essay on the History of the Idea

of Nature by the philosopher and historian Pierre Hadot.9 This is really a piece supporting this thesis: "phusis krupteshai philei,"

nature loves to hide itself. He doesn't bother to say that almost

20 lacanian ink

twenty-five centuries of thought have been nourished .by these three small words, which, according to tradition, were wntten down by Heraclitus in Artemis's temple at Ephesus.

Sublime oracle! The historian studying this might say: in spite of variations in philosophy about nature loving to hide itself, one has not gone a single step further. One finds the echo in Heidegger, when phusis is disc�vered, the P_husis which

,�oves

to hide itself, and it is then aletheta, truth, which emerges. We are evidently somewhat bothered by the idea of translati�g phusis by natura, the Latin word not having the same value as 1� Greek. This text in Aristotle is: "<l>ucr£ £01: aA.8ta"- nature 1s truth, deconstructed, in the open, and for that reason- "xpun 'TEat q>tA.a"- nature loves to hide itself. The. repetiti?n ?f these three small words which support the philosophical cog1tat10n of twenty­five centuries is here. With this definition of nature, no discourse can do anything, no combination of signifiers will have any effect on this term. This is why one can say that nature is defined by the fact that no discourse has any consequence on it.

TRUTH Here we are completely opposite from the regime of letters which I was evoking. We are at the other end ofkrupteshai philei when we are interested in what the Stoics made of language. They showed themselves capable of being interested in such an unpleasant propo­sition as "If it's daylight, then it's daylight." A proposition which is true without even having to open the curtains. One might well substitute the letter A-initial letter of L'Ane [The Ass], and one can state, "If. .. then ... ," in order to obtain a concatenation just as interesting: if A, then A.

A ----__._ A

It becomes more complex andmoreinterestingifyouletaB into this story: if A then B. This opens a world of speculation. No doubt it is a bit short.

Profane Illuminations 21

A --------1� B

If one has two terms, they can have different truth values. We can make a small table.

v--___.��v

V � F

F F

F V

v

F

v

v

If this proposition is true, then the combination is true; if the first one is true, and the second false, the combination is false. If, here, the first one is false and the second also, the combination is true, and if the latter is false and the second true, their combination is true.

Here is one of those discourses without speech that we were trying to find. This is what one can say, here, about the mode of this small truth table, and thus rests Lacan's effort to reduce analytic terms to tables of this sort. The consequence as well as the truth are tightly closed up in the discourse. It goes a different way when one defines truth itself through implication. In a famous article at the beginning of the 30s, Tarski takes this tum, which he formulates in an amazing proposition: '"It is snowing' is a true sentence if and only if it is snowing."

"it is snowing" if it is snowing

The sentence obliges you to look through the window of your igloo to assure yourself of the truth of the statement, of its conformity to what is the case. There is a little play of quotation marks which are placed and removed, the quotation marks signaling that one is changing the universe of discourse. Their presence indicates that one is quoting and their removal that one is unquoting.

Tarski shows that this definition of truth runs aground for natural languages just as it does for complex formalized languages.

22 lacanian ink

Davidson uses this proposition by stating it so that it functions as a

bridge between languages. Here is how one can use it as instruction

about meaning. "Snow is white" is true if, and only if, la neige est

blanche. By inverting the formula, one can learn the meaning of

the propositions of a sentence.

4. FROM SuBJECT TO SPEAKING/BEING

Rather than looking through the window, one should consult the

dictionary here, or, even better, the encyclopedia. The savage of

Bougainville [Diderot] mocks the snow and its color, whatever the

supplementary meaning given to them. The important thing is that

this function is expressed here as a unity of value, a unity of truth

value and that it is thus decodable. it is necessary to pass through '

here in order to have a discourse which touches on the real.

To privilege discourses which have consequences in the

real is the criterion that the early Lacan almost always used until

all of that gives way in the mysterious texts of the end of his writ­

ing in which, in fact, he finds even the categories of science futile.

But the early Lacan teaches, on the contrary, the seriousness of

discourse and sees there the privilege of structuralism.

Why is structuralism serious? For the serious to be truly

serious, there must be the serial, which is made up of elements, of

results, of configurations, of homologies, of repetitions. What is seri­

ous for Lacan is the logic of the signifier, that is to say the opposite

of a philosophy, inasmuch as every philosophy rests on the appro­

priateness, transparency, agreement, harmony of thought with itself.

There is always some part hidden, in a philosophy, an I= I , which

constitutes what Lacan called at some moment "the initial error in

philosophy," 11 which consists in privileging this equality and thus

making one believe that the "I" is contemporary with itself, while

its constitution is always after the emergence of its cause, of petit a.

The unconscious means that thought is caused by the non­

thought that one cannot recapture in the present, except by capturing

Profane Illuminations 23

it in its consequences. This is how Georges Gandin recaptures the

consequence of stopped time when he stops to say: "You wanted

it, Georges Gandin." He makes time stop tci recapture in the con­

sequence what was caused by the non-thought.

I = I 1----------1._

This critique of I = I is inscribed, for Lacan, in the rubric of the

barred subject, in opposition to the barred subject. But what does

this subject do in the analytic experience? He finds himself avoid­

ing this proposition, I say it and I repeat it, being able and needing

to say the remarks which he is avoiding in the form of "I say and

I repeat it." One thus arrives at a certain purity which gives the

psychoanalyst the job of supporting what is advanced.

One nevertheless sees emerge in Lacan 's teaching the begin­

ning arguments which show that this $ is too narrow to support

all the functions. At the beginning, it is used in this way. We can

write the subject $ because we emptied it out completely and we

charged the big Other with recollecting, in which all the signifiers

are supposed to find their place, even all of universal discourse in

its variants, Russell's hierarchical infinity, primary language, the

languages from below. This Other is so full that the barred subject

is empty. This recalls the fable of the frog. The $ , here stronger

than the frog, abandons every predicate to the Other and functions

for us as "lack of."

moi

$($0($0a))))

r

24 lacanian ink

How can we take into account that there is a continuity, a duration

of something which appears to be linked to the subject? Lacan took

account of this duration with a term which he completely opposed

to S at the beginning, that is the ego [moi], opposing it to the ego

as being in the symbolic in relationship to the imaginary. But the

traces one observes in Lacan's teaching are there to indicate that

there is something which, surrounding the subject, acts as solder,

makes a gel. The term around which this gel is made, the only term

to which Lacan can have recourse, is the phantasm, and this would

be the petit a which gives its continuity, its solder to the barred

subject. As if we had here a series of subjective instances, and only their relationship to petit a gives the subject its consistency, or that

a certain solder is produced all the same.

Lacan will then take up defining the speaking/being. The

speaking/being is the subject become duration and inscribing itself

as One of the body. What gives Lac an number 1 his foundation is

the relationship of the barred subject with petit a. The precipitation

around S opens the place of the body. Man has a body; one cannot

say it's of the barred subject. Man speaks with his body and, says

Lacan, "He parletre of nature"- the word nature leading to the fact

that he is denatured.

Parletre is, for Lacan, the equivalent or what replaces the

Freudian unconscious, and one sees that if one can employ it as

the transformation of the barred subject or of the unconscious, it

is because it is functionally particularized.

Profane Illuminations 25

* -r:ext an� notes o_f L'orientation lacanienne Ill, 8, 9 November 2005, dehver_ed m the _Departement de Psychanalyse de Paris VIII. Edited b Cathenne Bonmngue.

y

1. Intervention in the Proceedings of the Ecole de Ia Cause Freudienne 6 November 2005. '

2. E�glish tran�lation_ o� J:-A M_ill,er's Spanish translation of Rimbaud. 3. Miller 1.-A,', Le cmt emgma�Ise: Une lecture de "La secte du Phenix de Borges, Quarto 70, A pnl 2000, pp. 8-14.

4. Sollers P., Une vie divine, Paris: Seuil, 2006. 5. Lacan J., p ·un A�ttre a !'autre (1968-69), Chapter 1 13 Novembe 1968, Paris: Seuil, 2006.

' r

6. Lac_an J., ':Preface a L'Eveil du printemps" (1974) Autres ecrits Paris: Seml, 2001, p. 562. ' '

7. Ru_ssell B_ ., "lntr?ductiOI_I," in Wittgenstein, Tractatus logico­phzlosophzcus, Paris: Gallimard, 1961.

9. Had?t P., Le voile d'Isis, Essai sur l'histoire d'idee de Nature Paris· Gal!Jmard, 2004.

' · 10. Heide�ger M., "Ce qu'est et comment se determine lafusie" (1958) Questzons I et I I, Paris: Gallimard, 2000, pp. 471-582 especially at the end of the text. ' 11. Lacan J., "Reponses a des etudiants en philosophie sur !'objet de 1� psy�hanalyse" (1966), Cahiers pour !'analyse 3 Paris· Graphe diffusiOn Seuil, 1966, p. 6. ' ' ·