Russell Ford

With the publication of the notes from Bergson’s early courses it has become possible to investigate the tradition of thinking that Bergson understood himself to be working within. A historical investigation of this understanding is valuable for at least two reasons: first, it allows us to appreciate the decisive interventions that Bergson’s thought makes within the post-Kantian tradition. Part of Bergson’s popularity was due to his insistence upon ‘beginning anew’ in thinking. However, while there is certainly much that is new in Bergson’s thought, to emphasize this element of novelty at the price of occluding Bergson’s scholarly work on the history of philosophy is to simultaneously deprive Bergson’s own philosophy of the depth and relevance that it gathers through its resonance with other great thinkers and, inversely, to fail to understand the critical force of Bergson’s intellectual creativity. In addition to being valuable as an elaboration of the stakes in a particular moment of the history of philosophy, a historical investigation of Bergson’s reading of Spinoza affords us the opportunity to work out and think through the motivating questions that animate Bergson’s own thought and which become visible in the way that he takes up other philosophical concepts and systems. Clearly, such a historical investigation is unconcerned with the question of whether or not Bergson “understood” Spinoza, or “got him right.” That Kierkegaard “misunderstood” Hegel is hardly a profound or even philosophically interesting statement. However, it becomes constructive when it drives us to ask, for instance, how it is that Kierkegaard misunderstands Hegel. What concerns motivate Kierkegaard to reject Hegel’s system? What are the points of disagreement and, perhaps most importantly, what new concepts, what new directions of thought, do these points allow Kierkegaard to create? This point can be generalized as follows: the historical investigation of a philosopher’s engagement with the philosophical tradition is productive (i.e. creative rather than reductive) when this engagement is taken up and interpreted as indicative of the new and distinctive concerns that drive the more recent philosopher’s thought – a thought whose distinction at the same time marks the distinctiveness of his or her historical interlocutor. As Deleuze writes of the concept of the subject, “it is never very interesting to criticize a concept: it is better to build the new functions and discover the new fields that make it useless or inadequate.” By extension, an “interesting” reading of Bergson’s interpretation of Spinoza ought not to emphasize the points of agreement and disagreement between them – as though it could be taken for granted that they have the same or equivalent concerns – but would inquire into the direction of Bergson’s thought that makes Spinoza simultaneously one of his closest philosophical allies and, at the same time, a thinker from whom Bergson repeatedly distances himself and critiques in order to elucidate his own thinking.

Shocking, brilliant, and eccentric, the French author, translator, and artist Pierre Klossowski (1905-2001) exerted a profound effect on French intellectual culture throughout the twentieth century. The older brother of the painter Balthus, secretary to the novelist Andre Gide, friend to Geroges Bataille and Maurice Blanchot, and heralded as one of the most important voices in the French "return to Nietzsche" by Michel Foucault and Gilles Deleuze, Klossowski pursued his singular vision of mortal embodiment through a variety of scholarly manifestations. In Such a Deathly Desire, Klossowski's original interpretation of Nietzsche's eternal return is developed around the enigmatic figure of the "demon," then deepened with provocative readings of Gide's correspondence; Barbey d'Aurevilly's novel A Married Proest; and the intertwining of language and death in the work of Bataille, Blanchot, and Brice Parain. The book concludes with the powerful essay "Nietzsche, Polytheism, and Parody," in which Klossowski articulates the consequences of the eternal return and the meaning of Nietzsche's genealogy of the fabulation of the world. Intersecting with and confounding a range of disciplines - including psychoanalysis, literary criticism, gender studies, and philosophy - Klossowski's critical writings on language, literature, and the aesthetics of embodiment remain powerful and original contributions to contemporary concerns in the theoretical humanities.

Freud had read Bergson’s 1900 book Laughter when he composed his own book on jokes, and, even prior to his development of the concept of the super-ego, Freud had criticized Bergson for not following up his insights into the linkage between comedy and childhood experiences. Freud thus chides Bergson for failing to pursue a line of inquiry that would confirm the ultimately tragic underpinnings of comedy. Wise to this clever and even mischievous little suggestion, Bergson’s book can be read as an account of comedy that might avoid the perennial temptation of yoking it to tragedy. Bergson approaches the problem of comedy in its concreteness, in its liveliness, and follows the various paths of its unfolding. What results is an analysis that shares some similarities with Freud’s investigations but that also eliminates the theoretical prejudices that guide Freud’s reflections. The comic spirit is, first of all, “undefinable.” A strange way to begin an essay on the subject except that, for Bergson, this designation is not a strictly negative one: “we shall not aim at imprisoning the comic spirit within a definition. We regard it, above all, as a living thing. However trivial it may be, we shall treat it with the respect due to life. We shall confine ourselves to watching it grow and expand.” In a deliberate departure from the sort of circumscription that characterizes the style of Aristotle’s Poetics – as well as its progeny – Bergson’s strategy is an indefinite one appropriate to the particular complexity of the subject. The text of the investigation will then share its subject’s style – it will dramatize rather than describe the comic – in order to give an account that is suited to the nature of the comic: it will be neither a joke nor a tragedy. Bergson’s book is of an essential different kind than Freud’s: its focus is upon the motivation or forces that bring laughter and the comic situation into existence. Freud’s analysis ultimately moves in a circle, discovering the tragic principles of its investigation in its conclusion, because it fails to begin with the question closer to the vital complex of which humour and the comic are a part: what advantage does comedy procure for life?

Attentive readings of Deleuze’s works alongside the projects of his teachers show that they often share a common problem or set of problems. One of the most innovative and influential of these projects is the work of Jean Wahl. Wahl’s analysis of French existential phenomenology, here analyzed through a representative essay published in 1950, focuses on the problem of the pre-personal, pre-subjective elements of thinking and worldly existence. Deleuze’s philosophical project, already visible in his early essays on Bergson, is a critique of the phenomenological presuppositions that determine this problem in terms of negation.