In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:A Patchwork of Non-Integrated OthersMichael Elias (bio)It has been a long time since I first presented a paper at a Colloquium on Violence & Religion (COV&R) conference, in 1994 in Wiesbaden, entitled "Neck Riddles in Mimetic Theory." It discusses riddle stories in which a man sentenced to death saves his life by propounding to the judge a riddle that he cannot possibly solve, because it is based on bizarre (...) experiences, unique to the condemned person. This was somewhat similar to what I did in my lecture, because I hid the fact that my research, which I would later base my doctorate on, was inspired by the eccentric experiences from psychoses that overtook me between 1979 and 1983 and landed me in a psychiatric hospital. Moreover, the motif of a condemned person saving his life is related for me to the experiences of my father, who spent weeks on death row at Buchenwald concentration camp during World War II—and miraculously escaped death. As the eldest in the family, I was definitely "the boy who had to make everything right."I am convinced that a lot of research is related to a researcher's own experiences. Our maître à penser, René Girard, tells his interviewer Michel Treguer, in answer to a question about the last chapter of Mensonge romantique, "You're [End Page 121] right, of course, about there being a personal experience behind what I say. I ended up understanding that I was going through an experience of the kind that I was describing."1 In his overview of Girard's work, Wolfgang Palaver wrote, "He began to turn away from his own pride and to see himself as a puppet of his own mimetic desire."2 But Girard adds a caveat in 1994: There is the danger of narcissism.3I also experience that when I do not stick to the theory, but try to clarify parts of my life story from the moment I started reading Girard's Des choses cachées depuis la fondation du monde, which offered me a new opening to my Christian background. It stimulated me to start learning Hebrew to investigate the roots of Christianity.My learning still continues, in a study group: what Jews do in a beth hamidrash. The Torah is too great to be owned by any of us, so the mimetic rivalry that is always there becomes a fruitful mimesis: Lernen leads to freedom. The last ten years we have been studying the book of Exodus, with midrashim from the long rabbinic tradition. It's a book of liberation that finally gave me the courage to write about that profound period in the psychiatric hospital.From the third part of Des choses cachées, I learned a lot about interdividuality, and also from J.-M. Oughourlian's The Mimetic Brain, in which he distinguishes between the rational, emotional, and mimetic brain. And from Henri Grivois, who published on incipient psychosis. Initially I steered toward a kind of psycho-philosophical self-analysis using insights from mimetic theory. However, in the end I decided: What I learned will not be put in a scientific treatise, but a novel. For several reasons:1. I learned from Mensonge romantique that real knowledge can be conveyed very well through a novel.2. Hungarian writer and Nobel Prize winner Imre Kertész, explaining why he was unable to describe his real-life concentration camp experiences, gave me the freedom to paradoxically tell my "real story" in fiction.3. I could by no means always remember exactly what had happened, and therefore had to resort to fiction, even though I had preserved material from those years.4. I wanted to make people in my immediate surroundings unrecognizable by literary means. The American writer David Vann once said (according to a Dutch writer), "You must sacrifice your family on the altar of fiction." I didn't want that, especially with regard to my mother. [End Page 122]5. Finally, I was inspired by a Jewish sage from the eighteenth century in Lithuania (the maggid of Doubno). He explains why the truth of the Torah is not presented as a philosophy or code of law... (shrink)