Deconstruction’s Destruction: Derrida and the End of Philosophy

Postmodern philosopher Jacques Derrida may have unwittingly crippled philosophy with his theory of deconstruction.  The idea behind deconstruction is that there is no actual foundation for knowledge in the world because all written statements can be interpreted in different ways.  At first this might sound ridiculous, because writing something as commonly known as the sky being blue would seemingly make the words factual.  But language is just a system of symbols, which means they can't always convey the same meaning about things.  Words are vulnerable to things like translational errors, metaphorical mistakes, misinterpretation, and things taken out of context.  The words themselves have no actuality; they just substitute things in the world, based on subjectivity.  Therefore a text such as The Bible has never really had a unifying interpretation despite it being a "bringer of truth" to billions of people.  Jews, Muslims, Christians (and even different types of Christians) will never agree on what certain things mean in the Bible, due to their different cultural interpretations.  Each time something is translated and borrowed from another culture, its mythology is morphed into something else- a modernized version of a more ancient class of myths.  Thus, the legends of the Greeks were just modernized versions of Egyptian mythologies: the same with the Hebrews borrowing from the Babylonians, and Christians from all the others.  Because of the flexibility of language, original ideas get lost in the details of each subsequent cultural transformation. 

Derrida also said that language is the only transcendental signifier that exists entirely inside a system of causation.  A transcendental signifier is something that a metaphysical philosopher uses to explain the origin of causation, whether it be God, man, consciousness, and so forth.  These signifiers come and go, depending on the period in history in which their ideas resonate the strongest.  Long ago it was God in the west and consciousness in the east that were thought to be the things that came from nothing.  After the Enlightenment, people started reasoning that since man had created God, it was really man who was the original creator, and that things only existed because he was there to interpret them.  In Derrida's late 20th century, he thought that we'd entered a period where language became the transcendental signifier, that all meaning became lost in translation as the world became increasingly complex.  It was then that cultures started to mix more than ever, and so their mythologies blended into a signifying whole through the vast amount of translating that took place, particularly in America.  The reason language can't exist outside a system of causation is because it constantly perpetuates itself inside its own system, meaning it couldn't have created the world because it depends on symbols and not an event. 

I don't think deconstruction marks the end of philosophy though.  There is a system of communication that doesn't require subjective reasoning, and that is mathematics.  I believe numbers will become the next transcendental signifier, as humans evolve into more mechanistic beings.  Already we can see this in effect as we witness the type of influence computers and electronics have had on us.  The digitalization of the world might translate into a philosophy that embraces mathematics as the root of all causation.  An analogy for this is the evolution of mythological art into abstract images based on subjectivity, and thence into minimalist art.  The mythological parallel is with God; most of the art that was made when God was the transcendental signifier was based on religious myth.  Michelangelo, Da Vinci, Reubens, Caravaggio: all the greatest artists prior to the 20th century were known for their religious interpretations translated onto the canvas.  After man and language became the signifiers, abstract art allowed the subjectivity of all our experiences free reign.  Starting with impressionists like Van Gogh and Renoir, and ending with the cubists like Picasso and Braque, reality became internal and art represented man's penchant for distorting natural objects by his own means.  Then art became as minimalist as possible around 1950, when computers started to make their imprint on society.  Artists like Piet Mondrian and Mark Rothko were able to unify all the principles of causation inside the most basic of shapes, like squares and circles.  Not that it takes much talent represent the cosmos within a square, but that's what they were trying to communicate. 

For an in-depth study on how numbers could become the next transcendental signifier, have a look at my post on Sacred Geometry in Cosmologica.  It's probably a more mystical context of what might defeat the language barrier, but it's a good introduction to the kind of purity that numbers can provide for metaphysicians. 

Born to Run: A Hidden Tribe, Superathletes, and the Greatest Race the World Has Never Seen, Christopher McDougall

Being a natural born runner, I couldn’t resist getting this book. After seeing its cover and title I was immediately drawn to the sense of liberation it emanated. Opening it up for the first time gave me the same feeling I get after my feet hit the pavement to begin a long steady run. Inside, it was every bit as charming as I’d expect from a book about running, even exceeding my expectations at times. There’s a lot of information that even the most experienced runners might not know about. I’d never considered that distance running may have been the very thing that made us human. Or that barefoot running is statistically healthier than using running shoes. 

Other parts of the book read like a straight up adventure novel. Essentially the author is in the process of training for the most challenging run of his life: a 50-mile trek through the Copper Canyon of Mexico, where an ancient tribe of luddites called the Tarahamara run over mountains all day wearing nothing but sandals for support. These world-famous runners have been an intriguing force in the north, where many gringos have studied their technique for ideas on how to run great distances without suffering injuries. The author teams up with a bunch of oddball Americans set to challenge the Tarahamara, making it surprisingly entertaining at times. Two of the Americans are hardcore party people, while another prefers to run barefoot and can’t keep his mouth shut. Finally, we have none other than Scott Jurek- the most famous ultrarunner in the world, who happened to be undefeated at the time. 

Born To Run has been a great influence on me. It’s made me re-evaluate my form and think about going farther distances. Many great running tips are offered by Eric, the author’s trainer, who also partakes in the race against the Tarahamara. Most memorable were those intermittent gems of prose that made me yearn for the open country, or a dusty jog over some dangerous yet beautiful landscape. When I came to the final word, it turned out to be one of those rare books that I didn’t want to end. 

A Clown in Chief: The Miraculous Rise of A Politician Who Doesn't Know Politics

    The rise of a certain politician, who shall remain nameless, as I don't want the name contaminating my blog, marks a turning point in American political history.  For the first time we have a genuine clown projected to represent a major political party in the coming election.  He cracks jokes, mocks his competition, knows absolutely nothing about government or the way the world works, and Hell, he even looks like a clown, with his sourly contorted mouth, shamelessly transparent toupee, and painfully obvious tan-job.  It wouldn't surprise me if he pulled confetti out of his ears while "debating" his flabbergasted challengers. 
    So this is what the road to the presidency has been reduced to?  A battle of wits and insults to see what kind of outrageous statements one can get away with, some of which clearly demonstrate the opinions of a racist?  Powerful speeches that unite people are now a thing of the past.  The American people want someone new, someone with a refreshing spin on stale party cliches, someone who can make us laugh yet still make us feel intelligent.  Americans love to be entertained, it's no joke.  Until now, that love has managed to stand clear of the political landscape.  Like the rest of the first world, our politicians have, for the most part- at least since I've been born- respected the opinions of others and not resorted to name-calling during debates.  Now the advent of reality television has literally repainted the scene.  The candidates are like a dysfunctional family going through some trivial ordeal, ripping each other's hair out as they seek their empty glory.  They seem to take more pride in making personal attacks than in points about important issues. 
    This shift must indicate a defeatist attitude about the presidency that hadn't entered the mass-consciousness of the American people until now.  Most of us have already seen how the president, no matter who it is, appears to be just a figurehead for their special interest groups and not the voice of the people, signifying both the futility and misrepresentation of being the most important man in America.  George W. Bush did more things for his corporate cronies than anyone else.  Barrack Obama's efforts to reform anything- aside from health care, which was constantly under attack from the right- were continuously stymied by a dangerously partisan congress.  Now that the people have seen that the president's power is virtually a mirage, anyone with a lot of money and a loud mouth has a shot at winning an election.  You don't have to be a senator, a five-star general, or a governor anymore.  Now you can be a cutthroat billionaire, an outspoken bigot, a celebrity, a clown. 

The Little Mirror

In a dusty old shop that was filled with antiques, 
You picked up a mirror that shined off your cheeks. 
Your eyes were absent of vanity, lit up with glee, 
As if the reflection were a dove, not the girl you see. 
Your surroundings became like a glen or lake, 
Written in some romantic poem by Keats, Yeats or Blake, 
Dedicated to a Goddess who fancied a mere mortal, 
Or even vice versa- the way I worship you eternal. 
My heart is racing, my love, make that smile last; 
Make the pulse of the world beat as mine, steadfast. 
Like rays from the sun you're lighting the way, 
Exfoliating the flora, serenading the day, 
In golden gardens of treasures that shine, 
As your lips bring the breaking of dawn, so divine. 
Such visions make a mockery of the room unpure, 
These wonders made of man are subdued by Nature; 
In craft and design we try to outshine her, 
Yet the mirror seems dim in the hands of my lover.