The poststructural stereotype of structuralism, or modernism,
was that the latter presumed certainty and correctness, that it was the right
way to know and interpret the world.
The reciprocal stereotype of postmodernism is any
view is as good as another.
These are extremes, of course. Neither structuralism
nor poststructuralism is or ever was monolithic. Both are more complex than their
critics like to admit. Still, stereotypes linger and inform arguments.
William H. Gass, in a review of essays by the
noted literary scholar M.H. Abrams (and Gass’s former professor), characterizes
the poststructural critique of literary theory in just this way: anything goes.
“But suppose,” Gass writes, “as has been proposed
by followers of Jacques Derrida, there is no right reading of the work, no
correct sense for it. Out of a cage of calculations, suppose we are free to
choose the pigeon we like best.”
Perhaps that is the way it goes in the literary world
(though I doubt even there you get to pick your pigeons). But these
arguments needn’t always retreat to the corners.
The poststructural turn grew out of (or was at
least cognate with) anthropology’s idea of cultural relativity. This assertion
is a matter of interpretation. But it makes sense historically.
Contact with other societies over the 19th and
20th centuries (coupled with misgivings about slavery and
colonialism) eroded the West’s confidence that it had things right, had a
privileged view of others, let alone humanity.
A gross extension of this uncertainty is
there is no better view: one pigeon is as good as another.
But that’s a leap: it’s one thing to say the
culture of my family has nothing privileged to say about your family, quite
another to say that the culture of your family has no privileged platform from
which to think about itself.
One family may eat food with silverware; another with hands. The fact that these practices are relative to respective families
does not mean there is no right way to eat, just that their views about each
other must be taken with a grain of salt.
This might smell like I’m saying that a culture
critique may only be mounted from within. That may be so. But I’m not making
that argument.
I’m suggesting that the challenge to modernism of
cultural relativity was more specific than general: a European could not hope
to understand an African from a European perspective alone.
That doesn’t mean any view goes, or that there is
no basis from which to interpret and evaluate cultural forms (such as literary
texts). It’s only to say that a person from one culture is likely to get
another culture wrong if she relies on her own cultural resources alone. It does not deny the possibility that there are better and worse interpretations.
There is, in other words, a middle view between a)
modern certainty and b) postmodern uncertainty.
One can make better or worse interpretations from premises,
and perhaps complex and nuanced variations with other premises, and that a
critical “post” modern perspective is not "anything goes" but that "it depends" on
the premises, it depends on perspective. Each interpretation is a function of
its location relative to what is being interpreted.
Derrida’s project was not to say anything goes. If
that was all, why would he have bothered to say anything? His aim as I see it
was to expose the reality of multiple possible interpretations, to open up the possibility
of richer, more nuanced readings. This is something I think Gass would applaud.
Indeed, Gass once did in a great essay called “In
terms of the toenail: fiction and the figures of life.” Here he spoke of the
power of metaphor to model (and interpret) the world. Metaphors matter.
Perspectives matter. Some metaphors work better than others. We make choices;
our choices matter.
In the Jones family they eat with their hands, in the Smith family, with a fork. It’s not “anything goes.” It's a matter of tradition, presumption, culture, point of view. Pluralistic rather than relativistic.
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