This essay sounds out Derrida's plurivocal term of frequencies as well as Nancy's understanding of resonance to argue that ghosts live in the ear. Heeding how the different nuances of this term bear on Derrida's reading of Hamlet, it not only seeks to understand the significance of the ghost's rhythmic appearance:disappearance in Shakespeare's play, but indeed, how it comes to frequent Derrida's Specters of Marx.

In the face of the ever-growing effect the actions of the present may have upon future people, most conspicuously around climate change, democracy has been accused, with good justification, of a presentist bias: of systemically favouring the presently living. By contrast, this paper will argue that the intimate relation, both quasi-ontological and normative, that Derrida's work establishes between temporality and justice insists upon another, more future-regarding aspect of democracy. We can get at this aspect by arguing for two consequences of (...) the deconstructive affirmation of sur-vivre, of the alterity of death in life. Firstly, justice is not first of all justice for the living, but intergenerational from the start. This is so because no generation coincides with itself; rather, it dies and is reborn at every moment, and so – and this is the second consequence – consists in taking turns. Affirming life as living-on means affirming that it involves exchanging life's stations, as the young become the old, and the unborn become the dead. In this sense, the justice of living-on, I will argue, shares an essential feature with democracy, whose principle of exchanging the rulers with the ruled led Derrida to characterize it in terms of the wheel. Democracy consists in the principled assent to power changing hands, a switchover life demands of every generation at every turn. This assent further requires an acceptance of the gift of inheritance without which no life can survive. But as the gift can also never be fully acknowledged or appropriated, it must be passed on to the indefinite, unknown future, in a turning that is the time of life. (shrink)

The question of where ghosts live can hardly be addressed without speaking of a haunted house. This essay reads Don DeLillo's novel The Body Artist, in which there is a ghost called Mr. Tuttle who haunts the house of Lauren Hartke, the body artist, as a text grafted onto Jacques Derrida's Dissemination. The essay takes as its starting point the first words spoken in DeLillo's text, ‘I want to say something but what’, a quasi-question directed to Lauren by her husband (...) Rey, in order to ask if it can ever be said what lies on the other side of ‘what’, or if it remains forever unknowable, or unheard, at an ‘infinite remove’, even if it is one's self. It is Rey's suicide, and Lauren's subsequent work of mourning, which locates DeLillo's phrase within the context of Derrida's efforts, again and again, to give words to those whose voices are absent: the lost friend, the other self, the dead. To Lauren's question, ‘What am I supposed to say?’ Derrida replies, ‘Speaking is impossible, but so too would be silence or absence’. Through the ghostly form of Mr. Tuttle, DeLillo's work tells of the various mimetisms by which the silent speaker is heard and remembered. (shrink)

Khora, as it figures in Plato’s Timaeus, as read by Jacques Derrida, poses a singular translation problem, not only for having more than one meaning, but also for having less than one. This might be thought of in terms of Derrida’s distinction between ‘polysemy’ and ‘dissemination’, in so far as any concept of translation will ‘re-mark’ a translation or reception of something like khora, the ‘all-receiving’. This means both that khora is untranslatable and that its translation into every language is (...) inevitable, which has implications for the question of a ‘politics of khora’, as becomes particularly apparent in Derrida’s unpublished seminar from 1985–86. (shrink)

Educational theorists working within the tradition of Jacques Derrida and Emmanuel Levinas’s thought, posit teaching to be a site of implied ethics, that is, a realm in which non-violent or less violent relations to the other are possible. Derrida links ethics to the realm of friendship, enabling one to understand teaching as a site of the ethics of friendship. I clarify how friendship, as a re-metaphorization of differance, opens us up to a conception of teaching that provides a counterpoint to (...) the current discourse of ‘effective’ teaching. I draw out the implications of the Derridean conception of friendship for the educator in his or her philosophical orientation towards teaching and attempt to show that friendship points the educator towards an orientation that enables a ‘fine tuning’ and opening up of one’s sense of obligation and responsibility to one’s students in ways that cannot be circumscribed to current or institutionally sanctioned ways of understanding the activity of teaching, especially as it is often envisioned in American public education. (shrink)

Relying on the form of the matter, as well as the content, this article is a playful and lyrical re-thinking of Foucault’s radical move to re-claim ‘otherness’ and the ‘other’ as ‘ecstatic’ fetish. Posed as such, ‘otherness’ and the technologies of identity this implies, neither stands as an opposition to Being/being nor as the ‘that’ which does not fit in. In this move, something rather peculiar also comes to light: a politics of the ethical that no longer relies on the (...) mastery of logos. Indeed, it relies, on a radical ‘non-mastery’, a ‘beheaded mastery’; a kind of ‘coming’ without ‘be’. Could it be said that therein lies the beginning threads for a wholly different conception of freedom and democracy, not to mention the ‘I’ of this ‘me’? (shrink)

(2002). A Meditation on Knell, Funeral Melancholia and the Question of Self-Reflexivity: 'To Whom Would the Reflexive be Returned?' Angelaki: Vol. 7, No. 2, pp. 93-105.