Flexner Book Club Blog

2011 Mary Flexner Lecturer: Judith Butler

The work of becoming a self

I’m reading “Desire, Rhetoric and Recognition” when the theme from the movie Laura comes on the radio. “Laura is the face in the misty light. . . .” While one part of my brain tarries on images from the film, I read, “We begin the Phenomenology with a sense that the main character has not yet arrived.” We are, Butler says, “‘waiting for the subject,’” who “will not arrive all at once” (51).

In Otto Preminger’s film, Laura is believed to be murdered, and while she has, therefore, “not yet arrived” when the action begins, the assembled characters gradually reveal information about her. Their descriptions are so compelling that the detective investigating the murder becomes fascinated with her. Later (spoiler alert), Laura appears—and the subject is now also the Other, an “explicit reality which has hitherto remained an implicit or nascent being. Before its actual appearance, the Other remains opaque, but not for that reason without reality” (74). Through Laura, I can more easily understand Hegel’s ideas.

My critical self scorns the idea that I should rely on popular culture to unlock philosophical concepts. But I discover that contemporary philosopher Slavoj Žižek uses exactly that approach. And when Butler references Saturday morning cartoons (52), I give myself license to freely associate as I read on. Kathryn Stockett’s bestseller The Help is on my mind as I read Butler’s explanation of the destructiveness of self-consciousness:

Now this same agency realizes that having negated the object, it still retains a dependency on that object; moreover, that determinate living object is not the same as Life itself, and so a potentially infinite number of living objects must be negated for self-consciousness to gain the monopoly on Life that it seeks, and this project soon appears endless and futile. (66)

I’m over-simplifying one of the book’s themes, but Stockett portrays a Mississippi in which whites would prefer to negate blacks, to annihilate them. However, for white women to maintain their elevated position, they cannot totally negate their fellow citizens—or who would serve them and raise their children? As Butler writes, “the death of the Other would deprive self-consciousness of the explicit recognition it requires” (78).

Reading on, I am reminded of Amy Winehouse. More than some people, artists “find [their] own identity through the Other” (78). For Winehouse, this powerful Other was fans, record companies, Grammy awards and tabloids. And it was addiction. When Butler writes of Hegel presenting the second appearance of destructive desire, that it “endeavors to overcome bodily life altogether” (78), I feel a profound sorrow. We know that “annihilation would undermine the project altogether by taking away life” (78), but we are helpless bystanders.

I find some comfort in the last pages of the reading, in which Butler guides us through Hegel’s discussion of self-consciousness, labor, and the material world. Winehouse’s “Love is a Losing Game” is now the song in my head. “[W]e are recognized,” Butler writes, “not merely for the form we inhabit in the world (our various embodiments), but for the forms we create of the world (our works)” (83). Pop culture or no, I celebrate the work that transcends the self.


  1. The discussion around desire and creative work in the last few pages also had great meaning for me. It began for me on page 82 with this quote:

    Giving form is thus the external determination of desire; in order to find satisfaction, i.e., recognition for itself, desire must give way to creative work.

    and continued with this on page 83:

    desire is always linked with the problem of recognition of and by another self-consciousness, and desire is always an effort to negate/transform the natural world.

    I immediately wrote in the margin of my reader, Shakespeare’s sonnets, because I could think of no better example of a desire given external determination in a creative work, that is an effort to negate or transform the world. In each effort, the poems attempt to give the desired immortality, purge the desirer of his desire, make the desired desire the writer back, or at least recognize the subject behind the author and make him whole again.

    Jumping ahead and taking great free-associative shortcuts in the interest of concision in the comments section, I want to add the notion of “community” into the discussion. On page 83 we read:

    True subjectivities come to flourish only in communities that provide for reciprocal recognition, for we do not come to ourselves through work alone, but through the acknowledging look of the Other who confirms us.

    Community I think is the key to this arrival of the desiring, and recognized as desiring, subject. For example, I could write a poem giving material form to my desire for Cee Lo Green, making the same attempts with my poem that Shakespeare did with his hundreds of years ago. The difference is that I am not going to hand over a slim volume of poems to Cee Lo Green personally, nor do I even have as a goal recognition from Cee Lo Green himself.

    Instead, I publish those poems to a blog in the hopes that I, through my poems, will be recognized by a community: a community of poets, a community of friends, even a community of fellow Cee Lo Green admirers. This community is the Other self-consciousness that I need to recognize me, to confirm me as a desiring self-consciousness through an engagement with my creative work.

    (Note: this is what happens when you read Jean Luc Nancy before reading Hegel. I am a poor student of philosophy chronologically.)

    And what are we all striving for with our quests for “likes,” “re-tweets,” YouTube comments, and blog-post pingbacks, if not recognition by an anonymous Other of an amorphous community, the Web 2.0 user on the other side of our screen?

  2. “So long lives this, and this gives life to [me],” right? Your connections to Shakespeare and our modern hopes for “likes” and pingbacks are spot on. And communities are so very important, from affinity groups on our own campus (not necessarily tied to creative work, but vital for recognition, belonging and ongoing explorations of identity) to, ahem, Cee Lo Green poetry blog contributors.