(David Farrell Krell) Phantoms of The Other Four

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Phantoms
of the Other
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SUNY series in Contemporary Continental Philosophy
—————
Dennis J. Schmidt, editor
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Phantoms
of the Other
Four Generations of Derrida’s Geschlecht
David Far r ell Kr ell
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The co ver s hows a det ail o f a p hotograph o f t hree o f t he Trakl c hildren t aken circa
1897. G eorg i s a t a ge 10, G retl a t a ge 5. The p hotograph i s in t he co llection o f t he
Forschungsinstitut B renner-Archiv o f t he University o f I nnsbruck, w hich g enerously
granted permission to reproduce it here. The concept for the cover design is by David
Matthew Krell, of dmkdesign.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Krell, David Farrell.

Phantoms of the other : four generations of Derrida's Geschlecht / David Farrell Krell.
pages cm. — (SUNY series in contemporary continental philosophy)
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 978-1-4384-5449-8 (hardcover : alk. paper)
ISBN 978-1-4384-5451-1 (ebook)
1. Heidegger, Martin, 1889–1976. 2. National socialism and philosophy.
3. Poetry. 4. Derrida, Jacques. I. Title.
B3279.H49K75 2014
193—dc23 2014007245
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
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for
Elena Sophia and Elias Dylan
and their dream

Does not the dream, all by itself, demonstrate that of which it is dreaming,
which is there precisely to make us dream?
—Jacques Derrida
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Contents
Preface ix
Abbreviations of Works Cited xiii
Introduction 1
1. Geschlecht I: Sexual Difference, Ontological Difference 19
2. Geschlecht II: Heidegger’s Singular Hand 47
3. Of Spirit 69
4. Geschlecht IV: Heidegger’s Philopolemological Ear 107
5. Geschlecht III: A Truncated Typescript 131
6. Geschlecht III: The Phantom of the Other 171
7. The Magnetism of Georg and Gretl Trakl 223
Appendix A: Poems Discussed in the Present Volume 257
Appendix B: Poems Undiscussed 311
Index 349
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Preface
D uring t he 1980s, D errida w rote f our m ajor t exts o n t he w ord a nd

the things called, in German, Geschlecht—roughly, clan, tribe, race,
generation, g enus, lin eage, coinage, s ex, a nd a f ew t hings m ore—in rela-
tion to Heidegger’s thought. Derrida published the first, second, a nd
fourth o f t hese lo ng p ieces, w hereas t he t hird wa s n ever co mpleted a nd
never published. This “missing” generation of Geschlecht, however, can be
reconstructed o n t he b asis o f a n in complete t ypescript D errida him self
prepared in 1985, a long w ith le cture n otes f rom hi s 1984–85 s eminar
in P aris, “Philosophical N ationality a nd N ationalism: The P hantom o f
the Other.” Each of these texts, the four generations of Geschlecht, both
the published and t he unpublished, focus on t he years 1928 a nd 1953 in
Heidegger’s career of thought.
In 1928 Heidegger speculated on the relation of the neutral and neu-
ter term Dasein or mortal existence to sexuality and sexual difference; in
1953 he reflected once again on the nature of sexual difference, this time
in G eorg Trakl’s sin gular “poem.” E ven t hough t he 1953 H eidegger t ext,
“Language in the Poem: A Placement of Georg Trakl’s Poem,” served right
from t he start a s t he s econd m agnetic p ole of D errida’s entire Geschlecht
project, D errida himself never published his most det ailed reflections on
that t ext. A long w ith t he p ublished w orks Of Spirit, Aporias, and v ol-
ume t wo o f The Beast and the Sovereign, the Geschlecht series, in m y
view, represents Derrida’s most penetrating reflections on Heidegger. The
incompleteness of t he s eries is a sig n not of failure on D errida’s p art but
of a fundamental reserve, a reserve that has to do with the necessary
reticence of all thinking, including the thinking of deconstruction, in t he
face of poetry. The present book is about Derrida’s achievement—and that
reserve. My letters to and f rom D errida, and my conversations w ith him
about t he Geschlecht series t hroughout t he 1980s a nd 1990s, m ay o ffer
some otherwise inaccessible insights into the project as a whole.
ix
x Preface
Not m any y ears a go, I p ublished t wo b rief acco unts o f D errida’s

entire Geschlecht series, desir ing t o f ocus t here on t he t hird a nd mi ssing
generation of that series, that is, the Geschlecht that deals with Heidegger’s
reading o f G eorg T rakl.1 The t hree p ublished g enerations o f D errida’s
series, namely, the first, second, and fourth, were so rich that by the time
I arrived at my proper subject in t he first account I f ound t hat I h ad left
myself too little room. The result was a mere four pages of commentary
on Geschlecht III, which I t hen expanded in t he second piece, albeit only
slightly. I s till regard the “missing” third Geschlecht—however remarkable
the o ther t hree in t he s eries m ay b e—as t he m ost t hought‑provoking o f
the Geschlechter. Why? Because, to repeat, that particular Geschlecht more
than any of the others focuses on Heidegger and Trakl. More specifically, it
takes up Heidegger’s very long and very difficult 1953 es say, “Die Sprache
im G edicht: ein e Er örterung v on G eorg Trakls G edicht,” t he es say t hat,
as D errida him self o ften r eiterates, in cites a nd “ magnetizes” t he en tire
Geschlecht series. This third Geschlecht, which never t ruly c ame t o t erm,
and which Derrida himself never published, is the subject of the fifth and
sixth c hapters o f t he p resent b ook a nd in effect t he en tire b ook’s ra ison
d’être.—But allow me to backtrack a bit.
My first careful reading of Derrida’s work began quite late, in June
1979. U ntil t hen I h ad b een cr itical o f t he f ew a vatars o f “ deconstruc-
tion” I h ad m et a nd h eard, t hose w ho s poke in D errida’s n ame b ut w ho
perhaps w ere s peaking t oo s oon. I n a ny c ase, a t t he t ime I wa s un der-
whelmed b y “ Derrida,” es pecially w hen co nfrontations b etween “decon-
struction” and Heidegger were being discussed. My friends at the Warwick
Workshops organized by D avid Wood during t he 1970s—D avid himself,
John Llewelyn, and Robert Bernasconi—were not fooled by these avatars;
they became serious students of Derrida’s work long before I did . In June
1979, h owever, J ohn Sa llis p ressed a co py o f D errida’s Éperons: les styles
de Nietzsche into m y h ot li ttle h ands. “ I think y ou’d b etter r ead t his,” h e
said. A fter J ohn co ntinued o n hi s t ravels, I t ook t he b ook u p in to m y
hillside garden and in a sin gle day, prodded by purple knightspur, I r ead
the whole thing. I have not stopped reading Derrida since.
My first r eading o f G eorg T rakl, t hanks t o H eidegger’s t wo T rakl
essays in Underway to Language, had occurred in the early 1970s. My first
published article on Trakl and Heidegger, written in 1976–77, appeared in
1. See D . F. K rell, “ One, Two, F our—Yet W here I s t he Third? A N ote o n D errida’s Geschlecht
Series,” Epoché 10, no. 2 (Spring 2006): 341–57, es p. 351–54; and Krell, “Marginalia to Geschlecht
III,” The New Centennial Review 7, no. 2 (2007): 175–200.
Preface xi
1978.2 I s ent t he p iece t o D errida o n J anuary 4, 1983, a fter h aving r ead

the first o f hi s Geschlecht essays in t ypescript. S ome w eeks e arlier, J ohn
Sallis h ad b rought m e a co py o f t he t ypescript, w hich Ruben B erezdivin
was t ranslating in to En glish f or t he j ournal Research in Phenomenology,
and I r ead i t w ith g reat in terest, n ot t o s ay en thusiasm. At t hat t ime, a s
now, n ot m any s tudents o f H eidegger w ere co mmenting o n t he T rakl
essays, a nd I wa s s truck b y t he fac t t hat t he t hemes a nd p roblems t hat
Derrida h ad s elected f or di scussion o ften dovetailed w ith m y o wn. Fir st
among t hese wa s t he t heme o f Geschlecht itself a nd t he o dd (n ot t o s ay
striking) wa y in w hich H eidegger u ses t he w ords Schlag and schlagen
(the r oots o f Geschlecht, meaning “to s trike a b low,” “to b eat,” “to co in”)
in hi s s econd Trakl es say. I t wa s n ot fa lse m odesty w hen I r emarked t o
Derrida in t he January 1983 let ter t hat my own essay, “Schlag der L iebe,
Schlag des T odes,” wa s “undisciplined a nd n ot v ery cr itical.” A long w ith
an e ven e arlier es say o n t he t heme o f “ rhythm” in H eidegger’s s econd
Trakl es say, t his es say wa s s omething o f a first t ry.3 I r escue o ne o r t wo
facets of it in t he final chapter of the present book. In any case, the point
I wa nt t o em phasize i s t hat m y co ntact w ith D errida, a nd o ur e ventual
friendship, h ad T rakl—Heidegger’s T rakl—at i ts v ery cen ter. W e t alked
about i t en dlessly. A nd i t s eems t o m e n ow, a s I lo ok b ack o n D errida’s
extraordinarily productive c areer, t hat hi s w ork on Geschlecht stands out
as ex ceptional in a n o euvre t hat i s a ltogether ex ceptional. I t w ill t ake
students of Heidegger de cades to absorb t hat work, I s uspect. A nd I f eel
certain t hat n othing w ill b e m ore r ewarding f or t hem—if co nfrontation
with enigmas and even phantoms can be rewarding.
In the present book, Geschlecht III will be considered anachronically,
that i s t o s ay, o nly a fter t he “ completion” o f t he Geschlecht series—in
De l’esprit and Geschlecht IV—has b een in terpreted. The b ook t urns t o
Geschlecht III in c hapters 5 a nd 6, e ven t hough t he t ypescript a nd t he
seminar date from the years 1984–85, s ome four or five years earlier than
the fourth and final Geschlecht. Chapter 7, t he concluding chapter of t he
2. “Schlag der Liebe, Schlag des Todes: On Heidegger and Trakl,” in Radical Phenomenology:
Essays in Honor of Martin Heidegger, ed. John Sa llis (Atlantic Highlands, NJ: H umanities Press,
1978), 238–58. W ith s ome ex cisions, a nd a de dication t o D errida adde d, t his piece b ecame t he
final chapter of Intimations of Mortality (IM 163–76), published in 1986.
3. For the essay on r hythm, w ritten also in t he mid‑1970s, see “The Wave’s Source: Rhythms
of Poetic S peech,” in Heidegger and Language, ed. D avid Wood (Warwick, UK: P arousia P ress,
1981), 25–50. The es say, r evised a nd exp anded, a ppeared m any y ears l ater a s t he t hird c hapter
of my Lunar Voices (LV 55–82), published in 1995.
xii Preface
book, a ttempts t o co ntinue t he m editation o n Trakl, n ow en gaging b oth

Heidegger and Derrida in a Zwiegespräch, one in which Trakl remains the
principal partner—hence, a Drei- or even Viergespräch, if I dare to include
myself. I take it that such a co nversation responds to Derrida’s own wish
and holds him to his own promise—death serving as no excuse—to return
to t he questions p osed in t he t hird generation of Geschlecht. The present
book can be no more than an invitation to others, some of them surviving
as phantoms, others still living, to join in the conversation.
Because I h ave w ritten s o o ften o n t he Geschlecht series in e arlier
years, I s uccumbed to the temptation, while preparing this book, of read-
ing my own earlier work, especially the work on Of Spirit in chapter 8
of Daimon Life and on “the voice of t he sister” in Lunar Voices. Some of
what wa s w ritten in t hose p laces a ppears h ere a gain, w ith my a pologies,
but I h ope a lso w ith s ome r efinements, s ome sig ns o f h aving li stened a
bit more carefully during the intervening years.
In w hat o rder s hould t hese c hapters b e r ead? I a m un certain. F or
those w ho k now li ttle o f a nd a bout Trakl’s p oetry, I s uggest r eading t he
Appendices first. P erhaps t hen a lo ok a t t he final c hapter, t he s eventh,
which tries to say something about the lives of the poet and his gifted and
beloved si ster G retl. At t hat p oint Heidegger’s p reoccupation w ith Trakl,
and Derrida’s with Heidegger’s Trakl, may make more sense.
I owe m any debts of g ratitude. Had U lrich Halfmann n ot spent a ll
those h ours o n m y t ranslations o f Trakl’s p oems in t he Appendices, t he
result would h ave been c atastrophic. In do zens u pon do zens o f c ases,
Halfmann brought the translations closer to the German, closer to Trakl.
It wa s a n e ducation t o w ork w ith him, a nd I a m m ore t han g rateful
for t hat e ducation. M y t hanks t o W alter B rogan a nd t o t he r eviewers
for S UNY P ress f or t heir r eading a nd t heir s uggestions, a nd t o A ndrew
Kenyon, Eileen Nizer, and the entire staff at SUNY Press for help at every
stage. A nd o nce a gain t o my s on D avid M atthew K rell f or t he desig n o f
the cover.
D. F. K.
Strobelhütte, St. Ulrich
Abbreviations of Works Cited
Works by Derrida
A L’animal que donc je suis. Paris: Galilée, 2006. Translated by David

Wills as The Animal That Therefore I Am. New York: F ordham
University Press, 2008.
AP Apories. Paris: Galilée, 1996 [1992]. Translated by Thomas Dutoit
as Aporias. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1993.
B1 Séminaire: La bête et le souverain, Volume I (2001–2002). Edited
by M ichel L isse, M arie‑Louise M allet, a nd G enette M ichaud.
Paris: Ga lilée, 2008. T ranslated b y G eoffrey B ennington a s The
Beast and the Sovereign, Volume I. Chicago: University of Chicago
Press, 2009. Cited by volume and page of the French edition.
B2 Séminaire: La bête et le souverain, Volume II (2002–2003). Edited
by Michel Lisse, Marie‑Louise Mallet, and Genette Michaud. Par-
is: Galilée, 2010. Translated by Geoffrey Bennington as The Beast
and the Sovereign, V olume II. C hicago: U niversity o f C hicago
Press, 2011. Cited by volume and page of the French edition.
C Circumfession. In G eoffrey B ennington, Jacques Derrida. P aris:
Seuil, 1991; En glish t ranslation p ublished b y U niversity o f C hi-
cago Press, 1993.
CP La Carte postale de Socrate à Freud et au-delà. Paris: Aubier‑Flam-
marion, 1980. T ranslated b y A lan B ass a s The Post Card from
Socrates to Freud and Beyond. C hicago: U niversity o f C hicago
Press, 1987.
xiii
xiv Abbreviations of Works Cited
DE De l’esprit: Heidegger et la question. P aris: Ga lilée, 1987. T rans-

lated b y G eoffrey B ennington a nd R achel B owlby a s Of Spirit:
Heidegger and the Question. Chicago: University of Chicago Press,
1989.
DG De la grammatologie. Paris: M inuit, 1967. T ranslated b y Ga yatri
Chakravorty Spivak as Of Grammatology. Baltimore: Johns Hop-
kins University Press, 1976.
ED Écriture et la difference. Paris: Seuil, 1967. Translated by Alan Bass
as Writing and Difference. C hicago: University o f C hicago P ress,
1978.
É Éperons: Les styles de Nietzsche. Paris: Flammarion, 1978.
G 1–4 The four “Geschlecht” papers: (1) and (2) are published in Psyché,
while (4) i s in Politiques de l’amitié, with En glish t ranslations a s
follows: (1) b y R uben B erezdivin in Research in Phenomenology
XIII (1983): 65–83; b y R uben B erezdivin a nd E lizabeth R otten-
berg in Psyche 2: Inventions of the Other, ed. Peggy Kamuf and
Elizabeth R ottenberg. S tanford: S tanford U niversity P ress, 2008,
7–26; (2) t ranslated b y J ohn P. L eavey J r. in Deconstruction and
Philosophy: The Texts of Jacques Derrida. Edited b y J ohn Sa llis.
Chicago: U niversity o f C hicago P ress, 1987, 161–96; b y J ohn P.
Leavey a nd E lizabeth R ottenberg in Psyche 2, cited a bove. The
third “ Geschlecht” i s n ot y et p ublished. The f ourth, “ L’oreille de
Heidegger: P hilopolémologie ( Geschlecht IV )” a ppears in Poli-
tiques de l’amitié. An English translation by J ohn P. Leavey Jr.
appears in Commemorations: Reading Heidegger. Edited by John
Sallis. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1993.
Gl Glas. Paris: Ga lilée, 1974. T ranslated b y J ohn P. L eavey J r. a nd
Richard Rand. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1986.
M Marges de la philosophie. Paris: É ditions de M inuit, 1972. T rans-
lated by Alan Bass. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1985.
MA Mal d’Archive: Une impression freudienne. Paris: Ga lilée, 1995.
Translated by Eric Prenowitz as Archive Fever. Chicago: Univer-
sity of Chicago Press, 1996.
O Otobiographies: L’enseignement de Nietzsche et la politique du nom
propre. Paris: Galilée, 1984. Translated (in part) as The Ear of the
Other: Otobiography, Transference, Translation, b y Peggy K amuf,
Abbreviations of Works Cited xv
edited by C hristie V . M cDonald. N ew Y ork: S chocken B ooks,

1985.
PA Politiques de l’amitié. Paris: Galilée, 1994. Translated as Politics of
Friendship by George Collins. New York: Verso, 1997.
PM Papier machine. Paris: Galilée, 2001.
Po Points de suspension . . . Entretiens. Edited b y E lisabeth Weber.
Paris: Ga lilée, 1992. T ranslated by Peggy K amuf a s Points: Inter-
views 1974–1994. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1995.
Ps Psyché: Inventions de l’autre. Paris: Galilée, 1987. En glish transla-
tion by Peggy Kamuf and Elizabeth Rottenberg. Stanford Univer-
sity Press, forthcoming.
S Schibboleth: Pour Paul Celan. P aris: Ga lilée, 1986. T ranslated b y
Joshua Wilner and Thomas D utoit in Sovereignties in Question:
The Poetics of Paul Celan, edited b y Thomas D utoit a nd O uti
Pasanen. New York: Fordham University Press, 2005.
SM Spectres de Marx. Paris: Galilée, 1993. Translated by Peggy Kamuf
as Specters of Marx: The State of the Debt, the Work of Mourning,
and the New International. New York: Routledge, 1994.
V Voyous. Paris: Ga lilée, 2003. Translated b y P ascale‑Anne B rault
and M ichael N aas a s Rogues: Two Essays on Reason. Stanford:
Stanford University Press, 2005.
Works by Heidegger
BW Basic Writings. 2nd ed. San Francisco: HarperCollins, 1993.

EGT Early Greek Thinking. 2nd ed. San Francisco: HarperCollins, 1984.
EHD Erläuterungen zu Hölderlins Dichtung. 4t h, exp anded e d. F rank-
furt am Main: V. Klostermann, 1971.
EM Einführung in die Metaphysik. Tübingen: M. Niemeyer, 1953.
G Gelassenheit. Pfullingen: G. Neske, 1959.
H Holzwege. Frankfurt am Main: V. Klostermann, 1950.
N I–II Nietzsche, 2 vols. Pfullingen: G. Neske, 1961.
xvi Abbreviations of Works Cited
Ni 1–4 Nietzsche, 4 vols. 2nd ed. San Francisco: HarperCollins, 1991.

SB Die Selbstbehauptung der deutschen Universität; Das Rektorat
1933/34: Tatsachen und Gedanken. E dited b y H ermann H ei-
degger. Frankfurt am Main: V. Klostermann, 1983.
SCH Schellings Abhandlung über das Wesen der menschlichen Freiheit
(1809). Edited by Hildegard Feick. Tübingen: M. Niemeyer, 1971.
SZ Sein und Zeit, 12th ed. Tübingen: M. Niemeyer, 1972.
US Unterwegs zur Sprache. Pfullingen: G. Neske, 1959.
VA Vorträge und Aufsätze. Pfullingen: G. Neske, 1954.
W Wegmarken (Frankfurt am Main: V. Klostermann, 1967.
WhD? Was heißt Denken? Tübingen: M. Niemeyer, 1954.
20 Prolegomena zur Geschichte des Zeitbegriffs. Gesamtausgabe v ol.
20. M arburg le cture co urse, S ummer S emester 1925. F rankfurt
am Main: V. Klostermann, 1979.
24 Die Grundprobleme der Phänomenologie. Gesamtausgabe vol. 24.
Marburg le cture co urse, S ummer S emester 1927. F rankfurt a m
Main: V. Klostermann, 1975.
26 Metaphysische Anfangsgründe der Logik im Ausgang von Leibniz,
Gesamtausgabe vol. 26. Marburg lecture course, Summer Semes-
ter, 1928. Frankfurt am Main: V. Klostermann, 1978.
27 Einleitung in die Philosophie, Gesamtausgabe v ol. 27. F reiburg
lecture co urse, W inter S emester, 1928–29. F rankfurt a m M ain:
V. Kostermann, 2001.
29/30 Die Grundbegriffe der Metaphysik: Welt—Endlichkeit—Einsam-
keit, Gesamtausgabe vol. 29/30. Freiburg lecture course, Winter
Semester, 1929–30. Frankfurt am Main: V. Klostermann, 1983.
39 Hölderlins Hymnen “Germanien” und “Der Rhein.” Gesamtaus-
gabe v ol. 39. F reiburg le cture co urse, Winter S emester 1934–35.
Frankfurt am Main: V. Klostermann, 1980.
52 Hölderlins Hymne “Andenken.” Gesamtausgabe vol. 52. F reiburg
lecture course, Winter Semester 1941–42. F rankfurt am Main: V.
Klostermann, 1982.
Abbreviations of Works Cited xvii
53 Hölderlins Hymne “Der Ister.” Gesamtausgabe v ol. 53. F reiburg

lecture co urse, S ummer S emester 1942. F rankfurt a m M ain: V.
Klostermann, 1984.
54 Parmenides. Gesamtausgabe v ol. 54. F reiburg le cture co urse,
Winter S emester, 1942–43. F rankfurt am Main: V. K lostermann,
1982.
55 Heraklit: (1) Der Anfang des abendländischen Denkens; (2) Logik:
Heraklits Lehre vom Logos. Gesamtausgabe v ol. 55. F reiburg le c-
ture co urses, S ummer S emesters 1943 a nd 1944. F rankfurt a m
61 Phänomenologische Interpretationen zu Aristoteles: Einführung in
die phänomenologische Forschung. Gesamtausgabe v ol. 61. E arly
Freiburg lecture course, Winter Semester 1921–22. F rankfurt am
63 Ontologie (Hermeneutik der Faktizität). Gesamtausgabe v ol. 63.
Early Freiburg lecture course, Summer Semester 1923. F rankfurt
am Main: V. Klostermann, 1988.
65 Beiträge zur Philosophie (Vom Ereignis). Gesamtausgabe v ol. 65.
From t he y ears 1936–38. F rankfurt a m M ain: V. K lostermann,
1989.
94 Überlegungen II–VI (Schwarze Hefte 1931–38). Gesamtausgabe
vol. 94. Frankfurt am Main: V. Klostermann, 2014.
95 Überlegungen VII–XI (Schwarze Hefte 1938–39). Gesamtausgabe
vol. 95. Frankfurt am Main: V. Klostermann, 2014.
96 Überlegungen XII–XV (Schwarze Hefte 1939–1941). Gesamtaus-
gabe vol. 96. Frankfurt am Main: V. Klostermann, 2014.
Works by the Author
AO Derrida and Our Animal Others: Derrida’s Final Seminar, “The

Beast and the Sovereign.” Bloomington and London: Indiana Uni-
versity Press, 2013.
AT Architecture: Ecstasies of Space, Time, and the Human Body.
Albany: State University of New York Press, 1997.
xviii Abbreviations of Works Cited
DL Daimon Life: Heidegger and Life‑Philosophy. Bloomington a nd

London: Indiana University Press, 1992.
IM Intimations of Mortality: Time, Truth, and Finitude in Heidegger’s
Thinking of Being. 2n d e d. U niversity P ark: P ennsylvania S tate
University Press, 1991.
LV Lunar Voices: Of Tragedy, Poetry, Fiction, and Thought. C hicago:
University of Chicago Press, 1995.
PB The Purest of Bastards: Works of Mourning, Art, and Affirmation
in the Thought of Jacques Derrida. Pennsylvania S tate University
Press, 2000.
TA The Tragic Absolute: German Idealism and the Languishing of God.
Bloomington and London: Indiana University Press, 2005.
Works by Other Authors
7, 8 F. W. J. S chelling, Abhandlung über das Wesen der menschlichen

Freiheit und die damit zusammenhängenden Gegenstände, in v ol.
7 o f Sämtliche Werke. S tuttgart et A ugsburg: J . G. C otta, 1860.
The t hird (1815) v ersion o f Die Weltalter (Die Vergangenheit) is
published in vol. 8 of the same edition. Cited by volume and page
in the body of my text, e.g., 7:399, 8:260.
BP Benoît Peeters, Derrida. Paris: Flammarion, 2010.
CHV Works by Hölderlin are cited from Friedrich Hölderlin, Sämtliche
1–3 Werke und Briefe. 3 v ols. E dited b y M ichael K naupp. M unich:
Carl Hanser Verlag, 1992.
DK Hermann Die ls a nd W alther K ranz, Die Fragmente der Vorso
kratiker, 3 v ols. 6t h e d. Z ürich: Weidmann, 1951. Ci ted b y f rag-
ment number.
És Jacques Lacan, Écrits. Paris: Éditions du Seuil, 1966.
HP Hermann P aul, Deutsches Wörterbuch. 6th e d. b y Werner B etz.
Tübingen: Max Niemeyer Verlag, 1966.
KSA Works by Nietzsche are cited from Friedrich Nietzsche, Kritische
Studienausgabe, 15 v ols. Edited b y G iorgio C olli a nd M azzino
Abbreviations of Works Cited xix
Montinari. Berlin and Munich: Walter de Gruyter and Deutscher

Taschenbuch Verlag, 1980.
OB Otto Basil, Trakl. Reinbek bei Hamburg: Rowohlt, 1965.
PG G. W. F . H egel, Phänomenologie des Geistes, 6t h e d. E dited b y
Johannes Hoffmeister. Hamburg: F. Meiner, 1952.
RC Roberto Calasso, Le nozze di Cadmo e Armonia. Milan: Adelphi,
1988). Translated by Tim Parks a s The Marriage of Cadmus and
Harmony. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, Borzoi Books, 1993.
SA Works b y S igmund F reud a re ci ted f rom t he Studienausgabe, 10
1–10 vols., with an Ergänzungsband. Edited by Alexander Mitscherlich,
Angela Richards, and James Strachey. Frankfurt am Main: Fisch-
er, 1982.
T I cite Trakl’s poems from Georg Trakl, Dichtungen und Briefe, 3d
ed., edited b y Walther K illy a nd H ans Szk lenar (Sa lzburg: O tto
Müller Verlag, 1974), w hich i s b ased o n t he first v olume o f t he
historical‑critical edition by these same editors.
Introduction
F our g enerations o f a n un pronounceable G erman w ord? A n un pro‑

nounceable German word that is irreducibly multiple in its meanings?
ἀi s cannot be good.
I sympathize with the reader. Derrida too, himself the heart and soul
of generosity, would have sympathized. Yet he devoted a decade of his life
to the study of this word, or, as he preferred to say, of “the word and the
things.” H e did n ot un derestimate t he difficulty o f p roceeding f rom t he
word Geschlecht to all the things it means. ἀ e word and the things appear
at t wo m oments in t he lif e a nd w ork o f M artin Heidegger, first in 1928,
then in 1953. On ly two moments, it seems. Yet in D errida’s view they are
decisive moments. Decisive for what? First, for the fundamental ontology
of Dasein, that is, for Heidegger’s entire project of an existential analytic in
the 1927 Being and Time and in the lecture courses immediately preceding
and f ollowing i t; s econd, f or Heidegger’s l ater effort t o t hink in di alogue
with poetry, especially the poetry of Georg Trakl.
Let us begin as we used to do back in elementary school each time we
had to write an essay, namely, by dashing off to the dictionaries. Geschlecht:
noun, neuter, deriving from the Old High German gislahti, from which the
English words slay and slaughter are formed. (ἀi s, again, cannot be good.)
ἀ e p refix gi-, today Ge-, refers t o a co llectivity, a nd m eans “ all t hings
involving o r s urrounding t he r oot in q uestion.” ἀ e r oot o f Geschlecht,
that is, slahti, derives from early forms of the verb schlagen, “to beat,”
“strike,” “smite,” “stamp,” “coin,” b ut a lso t o “ play a s tringed in strument,”
“strike u p a t une,” o r, if t he m usician i s a b lackbird, “ warble.” ἀ e o ldest
sense of Geschlecht, according to Hermann Paul’s Deutsches Wörterbuch,
is e quivalent t o t he L atin w ord genus, that i s, a g roup o f p ersons w ho
share a co mmon a ncestry, es pecially if t hat g roup o r fa mily b elongs t o
the P atrician c lass. Schlagen in t his c ase m eans a s m uch a s “ to c ause t o
resemble,” or “to imprint or coin,” with particular reference to the passing
1
2 Phantoms of the Other
on o f fa mily li kenesses. S uch a fa mily mig ht a lso exp and t o f orm a c lan,
tribe, or class. ἀ e Grimm Brothers emphasize that the blood relations and
the c lan t ies o f a Geschlecht f ound t he s tate. Geschlecht a nd e ven Schlag
might a lso in dicate a species of a nimal, more p roperly desig nated b y t he
German Gattung, or even a p articular herd of animals, say, of magnificent
horses. Furthermore, the community of persons may expand to include all
of h umanity, das Menschengeschlecht, “the h uman race .” It l ater co mes t o
mean t he entire assemblage of human b eings w ho are a live for an identi‑
cal p eriod o r era, a “ generation.” At t he s ame t ime, i t r efers t o t he genus
masculinum and genus femininum, the two genders that, one might specu‑
late, a re s omehow a lready implicated in a ll t he o ther m eanings. ἀ us t he
“sexual” sense of Geschlecht is as archaic as all the others, such that the
word s erves as t he root f or a n en tire s eries of w ords in volving s exuality
and reproduction: Geschlechtsglied, -teil, or -organ, the genitalia; Geschlecht
lichkeit, the erotic and the sexual in general; Geschlechtstrieb, the sex drive;
Geschlechtsverkehr, sexual co ngress o r in tercourse, a nd s o o n. Fin ally, t he
“natural” Geschlechter, male a nd f emale, m asculine a nd f eminine, come
to b e a pplied t o m atters g rammatical, n amely, t he m asculine, f eminine,
and n euter g enders o f n ouns a nd p ronouns. ἀ e n euter g ender p oses a
special problem, to b e sure, and it is referred to in va rious ways, early on
as das unbenahmte Geschlecht, the “undeclared” or “unnamed” gender, or
das sächliche Geschlecht, the g ender h aving t o do w ith “things” o r “states
of affairs,” and later simply as geschlechtslos, “genderless.” When, late in t he
history o f t his w ord, H eidegger n otes t hat das Dasein, a n euter n oun, i s
geschlechtslos, he m ay m erely b e f ollowing t he guide lines of g rammar. Or
he m ay b e t hinking s omething e lse, s omething m ore a rchaic t han g ram‑
mar; it is difficult to say.
In the present book, more will have to be said of Derrida’s Geschlecht
I t han o f Geschlechter II and IV, b ut m ost w ill h ave t o b e s aid o f hi s
Geschlecht III. ἀ e v ery first g eneration o f Geschlecht, not y et n umbered
by him, is t he o ne t hat i s m ost dra wn t o, o r m ost “ magnetized b y,” t he
themes of the never completed and never published Geschlecht III.
Derrida’s Geschlecht series, along with the books Of Spirit, Aporias,
and t he s econd v olume o f The Beast and the Sovereign, constitute hi s
most sustained close‑readings of Heidegger. To repeat, three es says o f
the four‑part Geschlecht series w ere published d uring D errida’s lifetime,
namely, the first, second, and fourth; these, taken together, comprise some
130 book pages. ἀ e third Geschlecht exists in nuce as a t hirty‑three‑page
typescript p repared s ometime b efore M arch 1985 a nd di stributed t o t he
speakers at a co lloquium in C hicago organized by John Sallis. ἀ ese thir‑
Introduction 3
ty‑three pages are among the 100 t o 130 p ages of typescript that Derrida
by hi s o wn acco unt de voted t o H eidegger’s 1953 es say o n G eorg Trakl’s
poetry (“Die Sprache im G edicht”); however provisional and fragmentary
it may be, the typescript tells us much about the themes that “magnetize”
the en tire Geschlecht s eries. Yet i t n ow s eems c lear t hat t he co re o f t he
missing Geschlecht III i s t he 1984–85 s eminar h eld in P aris un der t he
title, “Nationalité et nationalisme philosophiques: le fantôme de l’autre.”
In terms of Derrida’s published work, it is as though the third gener‑
ation of Geschlecht had gone missing, or had been skipped over. Whether
the editorial committee that is preparing the seminars for publication has
plans t o publish t he 1984–85 s eminar I do n ot k now. ἀ at s eminar i s of
considerable importance, however, because it indicates both the questions
that “magnetized” Derrida from the start, that is, from the first generation
onward, and the way in which his path toward the second magnetic pole
split o ff in multiple dir ections—or, t o k eep t he m etaphor o f Geschlecht,
the way in which the third generation itself dispersed into multiple tribes,
clans, co inages, s tirpes, g enerations, lin eages—and p erhaps e ven s exes.
ἀ e present Introduction offers a c hronology of Derrida’s Geschlecht pub‑
lications and then recounts something of the “ancestry” of the Geschlecht
project, t aking a lo ok a t s ome—but o nly s ome—of D errida’s w ork o n
Heidegger during the 1960s and 1970s.
ἀ e first Geschlecht, subtitled “Sexual Difference, Ontological Differ‑
ence,” appeared under the title Geschlecht, without any numerical designa‑
tion, in M ichel Haar’s collection of essays on Heidegger for the Cahier de
l’Herne in 1983. R uben B erezdivin t ranslated t he p iece f or J ohn Sa llis’s
journal, Research in Phenomenology 13 (1983): 65–83. T oday t he F rench
text a ppears o n p ages 395–414 o f Psyché: Inventions de l’autre (Paris:
Galilée, 1987), edited and translated into English by Peggy Kamuf and
Elizabeth R ottenberg. ἀ e s econd Geschlecht (t he s ubtitle i s “ Geschlecht
II,” s et in p arentheses), en titled “ ἀ e H and o f H eidegger,” t ranslated b y
John P. Leavey Jr., was delivered at a conference organized by John Sallis at
Loyola University of Chicago in March 1985 and published by the Univer‑
sity of C hicago Press in 1987 un der t he t itle Deconstruction and Philoso-
phy: The Texts of Jacques Derrida, edited by John Sallis, on pages 161–96.
ἀ e French text of this second Geschlecht too is published today in Psyché,
immediately after the first, on pages 415–51. One notices immediately the
difference in len gth: t he s econd i s a lmost do uble t he len gth o f t he first.
ἀi s t endency t oward p roliferation co ntinues w ith t he f ourth g eneration
of Geschlecht, “ ἀ e E ar o f H eidegger: P hilopolemology ( Geschlecht IV),”
originally presented at a second conference at Loyola organized by John
Sallis in S eptember 1989; t his piece too was t ranslated by John P. L eavey
Jr., a nd wa s p ublished in a v olume e dited b y J ohn Sa llis en titled Read-
ing Heidegger: Commemorations, released in 1993 b y I ndiana U niversity
Press. ἀ e French text is published today as the second part of Politiques
de l’amitié (Paris: Ga lilée, 1994), p ages 341–419; a s t hough f ollowing t he
predictions of M althus, i t is m ore t han double t he length of the s econd
Geschlecht, the second almost double the length of the first.
Perhaps i t i s fitting t hat t he g enerations a nd t ribes o f Geschlecht
should increase and multiply in t his way. Yet this burgeoning of the proj‑
ect p recludes a nything li ke a t horoughgoing a nalysis in t he p resent v ol‑
ume of the three generations that exist in p ublished form. In this limited
space i t w ill b e p ossible t o p resent o nly v ery b rief sy nopses o f t he avail‑
able Geschlechter, o ffering a s omewhat m ore det ailed a nalysis o f t he first
and most succinct of them. For in t he very first Geschlecht Derrida gives
us s everal in dications co ncerning t he mi ssing t hird. L ater, a t t he en d o f
the thirty‑three‑page t ypescript, he n otes that t he t ypescript itself i s a
preliminary a nd p rovisional t ranscription o f n otes f rom a s eminar h eld
in Paris, a nd t hat f or l ack o f t ime five s essions o f t hat s eminar h ave n ot
been t aken in to acco unt. H e es timates t hat s ome o ne h undred p ages o f
material remain to be transcribed. Apart from some important references
to Geschlecht III that appear toward the end of Geschlecht II, this is all we
know about the third, and missing, Geschlecht.
As f or t he l arger p icture o f t he c hronology, let u s s ay t hree t hings.
First, if the series begins about the time Derrida has been focusing on the
ear of the other, specifically, Nietzsche’s delicate ears (of which Nietzsche
was inordinately proud) and the questions o f w oman, sexual difference,
and m ourning o r o b‑sequence ( Éperons, 1979; L’oreille de l’autre, 1982;
Otobiographies, 1984), it moves toward Heidegger’s e ar—and hi s p olitics;
second, t he s eries b egins in s eminars o n p hilosophical n ationality a nd
nationalism, the first of these in 1983–84 o n “Nation, Nationality, Nation‑
alism,” and it culminates in the 1987 Of Spirit: Heidegger and the Question,
a work t hat raised t he remarkably low le vel of t he contemporary di scus‑
sion o f H eidegger a nd p olitics t o i ts hig hest a nd p hilosophically m ost
demanding level; t hird, f urther points of culmination f or t he Geschlecht
series are the seminar of 1988–89, “ ἀ e Politics of Friendship,” and those
of 1989–1993, on “the secret” and “witness” (PA 11).
Perhaps t his i s t he p lace f or a b rief r eview o f D errida’s p reoccupa‑
tions w ith H eidegger p rior t o t he Geschlecht series, a b rief a nd hig hly
selective review, since it would be fair to say that the books and essays by
Derrida in which Heidegger is not mentioned are rare. Here it can only be
Introduction 5
a matter of sampling some of the early work. Fortunately, with the recent
publication of Derrida’s 1964–65 seminar on Heidegger and historicity, we
catch a g limpse o f D errida’s e arliest co ncerns w ith H eidegger, co ncerns
that led to Derrida’s quite famous essays of the late 1960s.1
All we can say about Derrida’s fascination with Heidegger prior to
the decade of the 1960s i s the following. Derrida apparently first learned
of Heidegger from one of his philosophy instructors, Jan Czarnecki, dur‑
ing the year of his hypokhâgne in Algiers, 1948–49 (B P 47–48). ἀ e only
volume of Heidegger in F rench translation at the time was a s election by
Henry Corbin that included Heidegger’s 1929 inaugural address, “What Is
Metaphysics? ” Heidegger’s analysis there of “the nothing” as prior to and
more powerful than any negative assertion, along with his dramatic depic‑
tion of anxiety as the key to an experience of “the nothing,” impressed the
young student who at the end of the 1940s, not yet twenty years old, found
himself wa vering b etween p hilosophy a nd li terature a s hi s lif e c hoices.
Even if H usserl wa s t o b ecome t he o bject o f hi s first s erious s tudies in
philosophy, it was Heidegger who gripped him from the start. His philoso‑
phy instructors at the lycée Louis‑le‑Grand in Paris had no real interest in
Heidegger, b ut o n hi s o wn D errida wa s a ble t o r ead F rench t ranslations
of Heidegger’s Kant and the Problem of Metaphysics and the first division
of Being and Time (BP 72). A t t he H usserl A rchive in L ouvain in 1954,
Derrida, by that time a s tudent at the École Normale Supérieure, worked
on Husserl’s “Origin of Geometry.” ἀ ere he befriended Rudolf Boehm, a
student of Gadamer’s, who told him a great deal about Heidegger (BP 91).
Ten y ears l ater, in 1964–65, D errida co nducted a s eminar t itled
“Heidegger: t he Q uestion o f B eing a nd H istory,” t he s eminar m entioned
a moment ago. ἀ e recently published transcription of Derrida’s handwrit‑
ten lecture notes is a volume of more than three hundred pages. Only the
most cursory summary is possible here—and that is regrettable, inasmuch
as t he t ext is r emarkable. A bove a ll, i t s hows h ow m uch o f Heidegger’s
work, from Being and Time to the books and essays of the 1950s, D errida
had absorbed, and how penetrating his reading of that work is. His focus
in the seminar is a few sections of Being and Time, namely, sections 6 and
72–76, w hich a re t he s ections in w hich H eidegger de velops t he t hemes
of “ the Destruktion of t he hi story o f o ntology” a nd t he “hi storicity” o f
a t emporalizing D asein. Yet D errida t reats b oth t hemes w ith a v iew t o
1. Jacques Derrida, Heidegger: la question de l’Être et l’Histoire (Cours de l’ENS‑Ulm 1964–1965,
ed. ἀ omas D utoit a nd M argueritte D errida (P aris: Ga lilée, 2013). A n En glish t ranslation b y
Geoffrey Bennington is in preparation.
“Part Two” of Being and Time, that is, t he p art t hat was never w ritten as
such; h e a lso r efers in det ail t o m any o f t he l ater t exts t hat w e a ssociate
with Heidegger’s “turning,” the so‑called Kehre, from the question of being
and t ime t o t hat o f t ime a nd b eing. To b e m ore p recise, D errida s hows
no in terest in t he m uch‑discussed Kehre as s uch. Rather, h e a rgues t hat
from the outset Heidegger’s focus is the Da of Da‑Sein, the temporality
of being, and the history and historicity of Dasein and being.
While it is safe to say that no specific reference to Geschlecht appears
in these pages—the 1928 co urse by Heidegger has not yet been published
and Derrida does not seem to have read the 1953 Trakl essay as yet—this
early seminar foreshadows m any of Derrida’s own later themes. M ore‑
over, t he s eminar t ranscript s hows u s a D errida w ho i s n ot co ncerned
to attain critical distance from Heidegger, nor even to “deconstruct” his
texts. H ere D errida p refers t he w ord sollicitation, a w ord t hat s uggests
both a n invitation t o r ead Heidegger w ith en gagement a nd t o di smantle
or p erhaps e ven “undercut” i ts t heses in a t houghtful m anner. On e m ay
say t hat D errida’s r elation t o H eidegger p arallels H eidegger’s r elation t o
the tradition of metaphysics: to “solicit” it, in both senses of the French
word, is to respect it even as one “undoes” it. One may p erhaps isolate a
dozen steps in D errida’s sollicitation of Heidegger’s question of being and
the themes of history and historicity.
1. Even if H eidegger i s p ursuing a “ fundamental o ntol‑

ogy” by means of “phenomenology” and “hermeneutics,”
he i s a lready o n t he v erge o f di scovering t hat o ntology,
onto‑theology, p henomenology, a nd h ermeneutics a like
are s aturated b y t he m etaphysics o f presence, that i s, b y
a m etaphysics t hat h as r un i ts co urse a nd i s n o lo nger
sustainable.
2. Heidegger’s debts to both Hegel and Husserl (the texts of
both a re exa mined in det ail d uring t he s eminar) c annot
obscure t he fac t t hat Heidegger’s Seinsfrage and his bud‑
ding sense of the history of being break decisively from
the phenomenologies of both predecessors.
3. Heidegger’s s ensitivity w ith r egard t o t he q uestion o f
the grammar and syntax of the word being and to t he
metaphysical foundations of metaphor compels his radical
overcoming of metaphysics; the “philosophical novel” that
“recounts stories” about being (recall Plato’s complaints in
Introduction 7
Sophist and Timaeus concerning the philosophical giants

of his own past) f rom antiquity through Hegel has come
to an end.
4. ἀ e p rincipal “ story” f or t he hi story o f p hilosophy h as
been t he unwavering dominion of presence and the pres-
ent, whether in G reek a ntiquity (οὐ σία, πά ρουσία) o r in
Cartesian‑Hegelian m odernity (t he “ I t hink,” s elf‑con‑
sciousness, subjectivity, etc.).
5. ἀ e “ fact” t hat D asein un derstands Sein in a va gue a nd
general manner, along with the temporal structure of the
“always a lready” in i ts un derstanding o f t he “ is,” a re t he
lynchpins o f (a) t he q uestion o f b eing a nd (b) t he t em‑
poral horizon of historicity, including all its “epochs.”
6. Heidegger’s s uggestion t hat a n un derstanding o f b eing
(das Gefragte) can be “read off ” of the being of the ques‑
tioner (das [or, better, der] Befragte), a long with his later
celebration o f l anguage a s “ the h ouse o f b eing,” in dicate
that D asein i tself i s a t ext a nd t hat a grammatology an d
a new examination of metaphoricity will become crucial
for the questions of being and history.
7. ἀ e t ext, t issue, o r w eave o f l anguage w ill di sclose i tself,
not a s a p ast t hat i s a p ast‑present o r t hat c an b e p re‑
sentified, b ut as trace—and a s a t race w hose origin has
vanished.
8. ἀ e hi story o f b eing a nd t he hi storicity o f a finite, t em‑
poralizing Dasein are imbricated indissolubly, although
the origin of the imbrication itself remains an enigma.
9. ἀ e primacy of the future ecstasy in H eidegger’s existen‑
tial a nalytic i s c hallenged b y t he em phasis (in c hapter 5
of division two of Being and Time) on the finite temporal‑
ity of historicity, o r Geschichtlichkeit, which stresses the
having‑been of Dasein.
10. ἀ e enig ma o f D a‑sein exp resses i tself in t he p rimacy
of the ecstasy o f t he future and the significance our of
being‑toward‑death, and yet also in the apparent primacy
of the past in one’s birth and communal inheritance (das
Erbe); the only thing that remains clear is that the ecstasy
of the present, which is born of both future and past, can
no longer hold onto some enduring, standing, “eternal”
or “infinite” presence.
11. If t here is s omething aporetic and e ven “short of breath”
about the final sections of Being and Time, that is because
Heidegger is still crossing the threshold of the question of
the (finite) historicity of (finite) b eing, confronting t here
an a poria t hat n o f orm o f vorlaufende Entschlossenheit,
or “ precursory r esolve,” c an di ssipate—inasmuch a s t he
“origin” o f hi storicity, t o r epeat, p ertains t o a p ast a nd a
passivity t hat n ever w ere present a nd t hat n ever c an b e
presentified phenomenologically.
12. ἀ e enig ma o f hi storicity a nd t he hi story o f b eing c an‑
not b e s olved by reference to t he oppositional structures
of a uthenticity‑inauthenticity o r o f “ vulgar” a s o pposed
to “primordial, originary” time. ἀ e occurrence of his‑
tory a nd o f des tiny ( Geschehen, Geschichte, Geschick) i s
scarcely explained by Heidegger’s appeals to the retrieval
of p ast p ossibilities ( Wiederholung), p recursory r esolve
(vorlaufende Entschlossenheit), t hrownness ( Geworfen-
heit), the passivity of Dasein as “moved” (Bewegtheit), or
the m etaphorical n ame b estowed o n t he o wnmost p os‑
sibility of a finite Da‑Sein, to wit, “death.”
ἀ ere is, of course, much more to the 1964–65 s eminar. Yet because
the t hemes o f Geschlecht, from s exual a nd o ntological differences t o a
poetics o f t hese differences, a re n ot b roached a t t his e arly d ate, w e m ay
proceed with our own brief history of Derrida’s earlier involvements with
Heidegger.
Yet let i t be said once again: by the end of the 1960s, D errida’s mas‑
tery o f t he Heideggerian t ext a nd hi s cr itical appreciation o f Heidegger’s
project a s a w hole a re n othing s hort o f a stonishing. In t he January 1968
lecture to t he French S ociety of Philosophy, “La différance,” it is t he first
letter o f t he a lphabet, t he p yramidal “A” o f différance, that i s D errida’s
theme, a long w ith t he trace structure o f w riting. A fter w orking t hrough
a s eries o f i ssues in volving H egel (t he t hinker o f t he p yramidal “ A”),
Koyré, a nd Sa ussure, in w hich t he s tructure o f t he L atin differe as b oth
differing a nd def erring i s de veloped, D errida t urns t o N ietzsche, F reud,
Introduction 9
and—last n ot le ast—Heidegger. N ietzsche’s r ejection o f a ll t he p utatively

self‑identical concepts of metaphysics and morals is found everywhere in
his work; perhaps less visible, at least until one studies Gilles Deleuze’s
Nietzsche and Philosophy, is the differential nature of force and forces in
that work. Freud’s emphasis on trace (Spur) and effraction (Bahnung, fray-
age) i s b riefly di scussed in “ La différance,” b ut t hen q uickly b rought t o
the de cisive q uestion co ncerning t he e conomic p roblem o f t he “detour”
in t he p leasure principle (t he det our sig n t hat i s h eld in t he h and of t he
reality p rinciple) a nd t he radic al in terruption o f t he p leasure p rinciple
by t he de ath‑and‑destruction dr ives. A fter a b rief r eference t o L evinas’s
challenge t o o ntological t hinking, D errida t urns t o H eidegger. H ere t he
problem is whether différance can be said to refer to, or even be subsumed
under, H eidegger’s “ontological difference,” t he difference b etween b eing
and b eings, o r b etween p resencing a nd t he t hings t hat co me t o p res‑
ence. D errida’s first f oray i s p erhaps t he m ost de cisive: la différance n’est
pas, differance (w ith a n a) is not. It c annot b e c apitalized, i t g overns n o
realm, a nd i t c annot b e r educed t o a n e lement in t he s tory o f t he epoch
of m etaphysics. E pochality, di scussed a t len gth a lready in t he 1964–65
seminar, will prove to be one of the four threads in that weft of issues, the
Geflecht, which structures the 1978 Of Spirit. In the present essay, Derrida
is tempted to think of the entire history of metaphysics, up to and includ‑
ing Heidegger, as that epoch in w hich the Heraclitean “one differentiating
itself ” is lost in the traces of what Heidegger calls “ontological difference.”
Yet, for Derrida, t hinking the t race of differance does not p articipate in
Heidegger’s quest for the “truth of being”: the trace does not present itself
in t he hi story o f p resencing. A lways differing, t he t race def ers p resence.
“It effaces itself in presenting itself, becomes voiceless as it resonates, like
the a that is written, inscribing its pyramid in differance” (M 24).
At t his p oint D errida in troduces H eidegger’s “Anaximander F rag‑
ment,” examining there the appearances of the word Spur, “trace,” in H ei‑
degger’s own text. For already in Heidegger’s text the trace resists presence.
Oblivion of being is the having‑been‑forgotten or the already‑having‑with‑
drawn of the difference between being and beings or between presencing
and t he b eings t hat p resent t hemselves. S uch o blivion, w hich acco rding
to Heidegger dominates metaphysics from beginning to end, leaves not a
trace of itself. Yet a cer tain equivocation enters Heidegger’s text precisely
here: w hat di sappears, h e s ays, i s “ the e arly t race” o f t he difference, die
frühe Spur that Heidegger nevertheless does find in t he earliest fragments
of Western t hinking, above a ll in t his oldest of f ragments, “the s aying of
Anaximander.” True, the trace of presencing, or the trace of the difference
between presencing and b eings, is not itself present—it never really took
place. And yet, lost in invisibility, a streak of dawn’s light is somehow
retained, gu arded, a nd r egarded. “ In a t ext,” D errida add s (M 26). ἀ e
trace of t he ontological difference is s ealed, as t hough in a p yramid, and
thus “ remains p reserved” ( so eine Spur geprägt hat . . . gewahrt bleibt).
ἀi s le ads D errida t o a cr ucial q uestion t hat t he Geschlecht series w ill
take u p: t he t race o f t he o ntological difference a ppears t o h ave va nished
from “our l anguage” (w hether notre langue or unserer Sprache), a nd s o
seems t o f orce u s t o g o b eyond t he idio ms o f o ur o wn t ongues t o w hat
Heidegger iden tifies simply a s “l anguage.” H eidegger t ries t o r escue t he
vanished sense of τὸ χρεῶν, traced in Anaximander’s thinking, by turning
to a n o ld G erman w ord, der Brauch, which i s r elated t o b oth n eed a nd
usage, h ence a lso t o c ustom—a w ord t hat i s r elated t o t he En glish w ord
to brook and that is translated by the French as le maintien. In Geschlecht
III the t heme o f t he e arly t race—of t he d awn, o f m orning—will r eturn:
there i t w ill b e t he p romise o f a n e arly exp erience o f a s exual d uality
that i s n ot y et s truck b y di scord a nd di ssension. ἀ e d awn “to co me” i s
always for Heidegger our only hope in the night o f o ur present, and yet
that d awn i s s omehow “ earlier” t han o ur n octurnal p resent. H eidegger
insists that these early traces “immediately disappear” and are lost forever
in t he hi story o f b eing a s m etaphysics. L ost f orever a nd y et preserved
as b eing’s n ote‑to‑self, a s i t w ere, a n ote in t he m argins o f o ne o r o ther
ancient t ext, a t le ast if “ our l anguage” m ay s ucceed in t ranslating i tself
over t o t hat e arly, o bliterated t ext. L ost f orever, h owever, i t va nishes as
such. ἀ e e arly t race, b oth obliterated and preserved, t hus “threatens t he
authority of t he as such in g eneral” (M 27). ἀi s “as s uch,” w hich in hi s
final s eminar D errida di scusses in t erms o f w hat H eidegger, f ollowing
Aristotle, calls “apophantic discourse,” will draw D errida’s attention f rom
this point on up to the end of his life.
In 1972, Derrida adds a long note to his “Differance” on the problem
of “the proper” and “property,” t his t ime not in H eidegger’s f undamental
ontology o f D asein b ut in hi s l ater t hinking o f Ereignis. Needless t o s ay,
the t race—as D errida un derstands i t—will n ot y ield a ny s ense o f appro‑
priation, p roperty, a nd p ropriety, n ot e ven in t he Ereignis that s eems t o
be “beyond being.” Neither “trace” nor “ontological difference” nor “being”
nor “the e vent of appropriation and expropriation” w ill s erve as a m eans
of o wnership o r o wnness: “ ἀ ere w ill n ot b e a uniq ue n ame, n ot e ven
the w ord being. And o ne w ill h ave t o t hink t his w ord w ithout nostalgia,
which is to say, outside the myth of a p urely maternal or purely paternal
language, of the lost fatherland of thought” (M 29). E specially Geschlecht
Introduction 11
II and III will focus on the matter of philosophical nationality and nation‑
alism as ensconced in “our” language, especially if “our” language happens
to be Heidegger’s German. Heidegger remains caught up in the search for
the perfect word, the word for being, even if the word becomes Ereignis or
Lichtung or das Gewähren of time and being, the granting of clearing and
presencing. In all these cases, Heidegger remains caught up preeminently
in his own—the German—language. If, as Heidegger asserts at the end of
his Anaximander essay, “being speaks always and everywhere throughout
all language,” Derrida will pose questions concerning such “speech,” which
turns out to be written, and such “language,” which turns out to be more
multifarious, differing, def erred, a nd di sseminated t han H eidegger e ver
allows in and for his “own” language.
By examining a lo ng note near the end of Being and Time (SZ 432–
33), a note that anticipates the “second half ” of Heidegger’s magnum opus,
the h alf t hat i s n ever w ritten, D errida’s “ Ousia a nd G rammè” i s a ble t o
challenge Heidegger’s account of t he “vulgar” understanding of t ime and
the very horizon o f “original time” u pon w hich that opus is projected.
An en tire s eries o f w ords t hat o ne mig ht t ranslate a s “ presence” (οὐ σία,
πάρουσία, Anwesenheit, Gegenwart, [Ver]gegenwärtigung, Vorhandenheit),
introduced at t he outset of Being and Time, is never f ully clarified in t he
course of that long work. Furthermore, close readings of Aristotle’s Physics
IV, 10–14, and Hegel’s Encyclopedia and the early “Jena Logic” (along with
other works) do n ot sustain Heidegger’s claim that in t he long history of
metaphysics, f rom A ristotle t o H egel a nd B ergson, t he “ vulgar” un der‑
standing of time is based on the notion of time as a lin e of “now‑points.”
As in t he le cture “ Differance,” D errida h ere t oo s uggests t hat t he p rob‑
lem o f “ presence” de volves u pon t hat o f t he t race, in deed, t he “ written
trace” (M 37, 76–77). ἀ e line of t ime a nd o f t he w ritten t race t herefore
becomes the focus of Derrida’s study. ἀ at study concludes by challenging
the notion of a “derivative,” “vulgar” temporality, one that would somehow
have fa llen away f rom a n “original” t emporality, a di stinction t hat s eems
to Derrida to arise from a classic metaphysical gesture.
ἀ e o nly t hing t hat i s mi ssing f rom D errida’s a nalysis in “ Ousia
and G rammè,” i t s eems t o m e, a nd i t i s s omething I di scussed w ith him
often, is a det ailed analysis of what Heidegger calls the ecstatic interpreta‑
tion o f t emporality. ἀ e e cstases o f t ime, o f “original,” “authentic” t ime,
themselves s eem t o der ive f rom a r eading o f c hapter 14 o f B ook IV o f
the Physics, where w ords f or “ suddenness” a nd “existence” a t le ast seem
to be the source of Heidegger’s notion. It has always seemed to me that a
close r eading o f s ections 65–68 o f Being and Time would b e n eeded n ot
only t o m ake t he a rgument o f “ Ousia a nd G rammè” t elling b ut a lso t o

provide t he co ntext f or D errida’s o wn n otion o f t he spacing of t he t race.
In other words, even if Heidegger’s metaphysical gesture of distinguishing
an “appropriate” from an “inappropriate” temporality for Dasein inevitably
falters, hi s a nalysis o f t he “ raptures” o f t ime, t hat i s, o f t he e cstases a nd
their Entrückungen, still s eems to b e t he most creative and revolutionary
analysis of Being and Time. It will n ot do to ignore ecstatic temporality.
(Perhaps the most detailed reflection on ecstatic temporality that we have
from D errida a ppears in hi s e arly 1964–65 s eminar, e ven if t he r elevant
pages o f Being and Time are n ot r ead t here.) R ather t han p ursue w hat
would n o do ubt b e a lo ng a nd co mplex r eading, h owever, D errida co n‑
cludes his article by once again challenging “the enigmatic proximity” of
Dasein to the question of being. He adds a note to his “Note”:
ἀ e o riginary, t he a uthentic, i s det ermined a s t he “ proper”

(eigentlich), that is to say, the near (proper, proprius), the pres‑
ent in t he proximity of presence to self. One could show how
this value of proximity and of presence to self intervenes at the
beginning of Being and Time and elsewhere in the decision to
pose t he q uestion o f t he m eaning o f b eing b y t aking a s o ne’s
point o f dep arture a n exi stential a nalytic o f Dasein. And o ne
could show the momentum of metaphysics in s uch a de cision
and in t he cr edit h ere acco rded t he va lue o f p resence t o s elf.
ἀi s q uestion co uld p ropagate i ts m ovement t o in clude a ll
the concepts implying the value of the “proper” (eigen, eigens,
ereignen, Ereignis, eigentümlich, das Eignen, etc.). (M 74 n. 26)
No doubt t he locus classicus of t he t heme of proximity and propri‑

ety in H eidegger’s t hinking i s D errida’s “ ἀ e En ds o f M an,” w ritten in
May 1968 a nd de livered a s a n addr ess t o a n “ international co lloquium”
in New York City in O ctober of t hat year. ἀ e “ends” in q uestion extend
from t he K antian di stinction b etween m eans a nd en ds in t he t reatment
by m an o f m an, v ia Sa rtre’s p henomenological o ntology a nd i ts di scus‑
sion of “human reality,” to Michel Foucault’s prediction t hat l’homme, an
“invention” of “recent date,” is about to expire, and above all to Heidegger’s
fundamental ontology of Dasein. Derrida’s initial reflection on the “inter‑
national colloquium” evokes the notion of “philosophical nationalities,” a
notion that dominates his seminars during the 1980s a nd the second and
third o f hi s Geschlechter. ἀ e final fifteen p ages o f “ ἀ e En ds” de velop
in g reat det ail a cer tain “ magnetism” in H eidegger’s t hinking o f Mensch
Introduction 13
and “ the t ruth o f b eing.” ἀ e w ord l’aimantation, “magnetism,” is us ed

twice t here; i t w ill b e a pplied t o t he Geschlecht series i tself, a nd f rom
the o utset. A s D errida’s o wn s eries i s “ magnetized” b y H eidegger’s 1953
Trakl interpretation, “Die Sprache im G edicht,” s o h ere D errida i s s ensi‑
tive to t he magnetic force of a cer tain nearness—namely, the p roximity
of Dasein to being, a proximity that would constitute the proper essence
of D asein. ἀ e p ropriety o f p roximity i s n othing o ther t han t he c lose‑
ness and e ven immediacy o f D asein t o being as t he questioner of b eing.
Such imm ediacy, a rgues D errida, in s pite o f Heidegger’s p rotestations t o
the co ntrary, a rises f rom t he p resence‑to‑self t hat defines h umankind in
and for philosophy at least since Descartes. Even if t he question of being
is o ntologically r emote f rom D asein, swathed a s i t i s in a n e verydayness
that h as en dured t hroughout t he ep och o f m etaphysics, t he q uestion i s
as c lose t o D asein a s a nything c an g et. “ One t hus s ees that t he Dasein,
if i t i s not man, i s n evertheless not anything other than man” (M 151).
Even if H eidegger em phasizes Ferne (remoteness) e very b it a s m uch a s
Nähe (nearness), argues Derrida, what is proper to the essence of man is
that he and she close t he distance—either by interrogating t hemselves in
order to solicit the meaning of being or, later, by standing in t he truth of
being. In spite of the metaphorics of Unheimlichkeit and the oblivion of
being, man’s “nearness to being” elaborates the metaphorics of “neighbor‑
hood, s helter, h ouse, s ervice, s afeguarding, v oice a nd h earing” (M 156).
Even if H eidegger subjects t he meaning of b eing as presence (Gegenwart,
Anwesenheit) t o a di smantling, t he l anguage o f p resence—especially t he
presence o f t he s poken w ord t o t hinking, w hich h ears a nd un derstands
what it says—comes to prevail in his own thought.
Yet Derrida notes something startling about the language of prox‑
imity a nd p ropriety, s omething t hat g ets los t in a f ootnote o f “ ἀ e En ds
of M an” (M 159 n. 19) a nd t hat e ven Geschlecht III, which i s de voted
to t he q uestion o f w hat c an b e s aid b est in a “ foreign” l anguage, fa ils t o
recall. Heidegger’s German words, which otherwise guide his thinking
without fail, increasingly so as the years go by—such that, apart from the
Greek, no other language offers food for thought—here do n ot serve: in
the w ords Nähe, “proximity,” a nd das Eigene, the “ proper,” i t i s n ot e asy
to h ear t he relation t hat the L atin ( prope, proprius) and even the French
(proche, propre) make clear. It is as though Heidegger, when thinking his
own m ost m agnetic t hought, t he t hought t hat t he nearness to b eing o f
Dasein is all its own, would have to think in French. Whether early or late,
and w hether o r n ot b ecause o f i ts en capsulation w ithin “our” l anguage,
Heidegger’s t hinking o verlooks t he de bt i t o wes t o t he m etaphysics o f
presence. Derrida writes: “ἀ e proximate is the proper; the proper is what

is closest (prope, proprius). Man is the proper of being, which, quite close,
whispers in hi s ear; being is the proper of man; it is the truth that speaks
to him; s uch is the proposition that grants the there of the truth of being
and t he t ruth o f m an” (M 160). I t i s t he co nfidence in s uch p roximity
and p ropriety, co nfidence in t he in timacy a nd o wnership b etween b eing
and man, that from both the inside and the outside is coming to an end.
I co nfess—if I m ay add a r ejoinder—that D errida’s in sistence o n
proximity a nd p ropriety in H eidegger, w hile co nvincing m e m ost d ays
of the week, on o ther days needs to be balanced by the realization that
Heidegger early and late thinks within anxiety. ἀ at is to say, the proxim‑
ity t hat i s s urely t here in H eidegger’s t hought i s t empered b y n otions o f
distancing, r emoteness, un canniness, a byss, a nd e cstasis. ἀ ere wa s t hus
always a t ension b etween D errida a nd m e, e ach o f u s em phasizing o ne
side of the coin while knowing we both had to examine Heidegger whole
coin. In my own earliest work, such as it is or was, I stressed what I called
“thinking‑within‑anxiety” e ven in H eidegger’s later work, that is, e ven in
the a pparently O lympian t hinking o f Ereignis and t he des tiny o f b eing.
Perhaps it wa s an amulet on my p art, attempting to h old at b ay t he s us‑
picions that Derrida was rightly raising. Yet when we recall section 40 o f
Being and Time and its analysis of the fundamental Befindlichkeit of anxi‑
ety, we remember that anything like a confidence‑boosting “self‑presence”
is quite foreign to what Heidegger is describing: in a nxiety, nothing at all
threatens u s, e ven a s it—the n othing—grows n ear; n o s ource of comfort
or a ssuredness prevails in t hat n earness. Das Nichts encroaches precisely
because i t co mes f rom n owhere a nd h as n owhere e lse t o g o. ἀ e r egion
of di sclosedness t hat o pens u p in a nxiety o ffers n o s olace: i t i s n o s park
of di vine lig ht, n o cog ito, a nd n o t ranscendental uni ty o f a pperception.
Rather, a nxiety “ is a lready ‘ there’ [ ‘da’]—and y et n owhere; i t i s s o c lose
that it corners us and stops our breath—and yet it is nowhere” (SZ 186).
To b e s ure, Derrida i s aware o f s uch h auntings t hroughout Heidegger’s
work; otherwise h e w ould n ever h ave b een interested in i t. Yet hi s read‑
ing of proximity as self‑presence underplays and even underestimates the
haunting power of a nxiety. H ere more t han ever the D erridian “double
reading” is needed. If t he wovor der Angst (“that in t he face o f w hich we
are a nxious”) and t he worum der Angst (“that f or t he s ake o f w hich w e
are a nxious”) co alesce, s o t hat t he di sclosing a nd t he di sclosed a re o ne
and the same, revealing the tenuous and fragile possibility of our being in
the world, this is no mere reflexivity of the modern metaphysical sort. “In
anxiety, it i s ‘uncanny’ f or one,” w rites Heidegger (SZ 188). E very s ort of
Introduction 15
familiarity and comfort zone the world has to offer comes crashing down,
or quietly crumbles in Unheimlichkeit. Our being‑in (the world) is a being
un‑zuhause. Self‑presence? Heigh ho, nobody home. ἀ at does not sound
like Descartes, or Kant, or even Hegel. Nietzsche, perhaps.
In the 1980 paper “Envoi,” seldom discussed in the Heidegger litera‑
ture, we have a t ruly remarkable piece of analysis of l anguage and idiom.
Originally a n address to t he Societies for Philosophy in the French Lan‑
guage, meeting that year in Strasbourg, it focuses on the meaning of repre-
sentation, the word and the thing. A large part of the address is devoted to a
reading of Heidegger’s 1938 essay, “ἀ e Age When All the World Becomes
an Image,” Die Zeit des Weltbildes. Particularly important for the Geschlecht
series is the fact that here Derrida insists on the significance of Heidegger’s
work for French philosophy—and the significance of Heidegger’s essen‑
tially untranslatable language. Because the Geschlecht series, especially in its
third generation, stresses the limitations of Heidegger’s appeal to his “own”
language, w hereby H eidegger o ften mi sses t he r ichness o f t he R omance
languages f or t he v ery t hemes h e i s t rying t o de velop, w e mig ht h ave
assumed t hat D errida i s in terested o nly in p ointing o ut s uch limi tations.
In t he 1980 addr ess t o t he F rench p hilosophers t he r everse i s t he c ase.
Derrida c hooses t he t itle o f hi s addr ess c arefully: envoi is a n en voy, b ut
also t he m essage t hat t he en voy i s t o r eport a nd r epresent. ἀ e en voy i s
“sent,” and the Heideggerian Geschick, the destinal sending of being, is here
on D errida’s min d. Yet D errida s pends e ven m ore t ime a nd de votes e ven
greater p ains t o n ote t he differences b etween t he d ubious F rench w ord
représentation and t he G erman Vorstellung, a word and concept t hat b oth
Hegel and Heidegger view askance, since it designates a t hinking that has
not ad vanced t o genuine thought. P erhaps a ll w e m ust n ote h ere i s t he
importance o f t he idio matic n ature o f stellen and vor‑stellen, as opp osed
to re‑praesentatio, a nd t he t hought‑provoking un translatability o r a t le ast
dissymmetry o f t he t wo. I f in t he Geschlecht series Derrida i s co ncerned
to show how philosophical nationality and nationalism can, in Heidegger’s
case, foreclose p ossibilities for Heidegger’s “own” t hought, h ere h e i s ur g‑
ing t he F rench p hilosophers t o cr oss t he R hine, a nd e ven t o en gage t he
language h e h ere c alls—oddly, a nd w ithout co mmenting o n i t—germain.
As though it were germane to French philosophy.
ἀ ere is one further item in t he address that has to concern us, one
that h as t o do w ith a k ind o f dissension in t he v ery n otion o f Anwesen
heit. On t he o ne h and, H eidegger c alls f or t he o vercoming o r a t le ast
the letting‑be of metaphysics, which has always identified being as “pres‑
ence”; on t he other h and, hi s own radic ally o ther t hinking do es n othing
other t han t ry t o t hink t he s ame t hing, “ presence.” B ecause t he mi ssing

Geschlecht has m uch t o do w ith dissension, not a s o ntological difference
but a s s exual difference, w e w ill h ave t o k eep D errida’s “ Envoi” in min d
throughout later chapters of the present book, especially chapters 5 and 6.
Yet now we must turn from the singular “Envoi” of 1980 t o the madden‑
ingly multiple and wildly disseminating Envois of The Post Card, published
that same year, 1980.
Many more essays, including “ἀ e Supplement of Copula” and “ἀ e
Retreat o f M etaphor,” t o m ention o nly t wo, w ould do ubtless n eed t o b e
recalled here. Yet it is gradually becoming clear that the Geschlecht series
also h as a t le ast t wo l argely ext ra‑Heideggerian s ources (in addi tion t o
Derrida’s Nietzsche b ooks) t hat n eed t o b e m entioned, n amely, t he 1974
Glas and the 1980 Post Card. In each of these a co ncatenation of themes
links us to Geschlecht, although here we will have to satisfied with a mere
list: in Glas, the t heme o f t he si ster, w hether h er n ame b e C hristiane o r
Mary Magdalene, and whether she be Hegel’s sister or the sister of Christ,
and w hether s he b e a w ife o r a p rofessional v irgin; a nd, a long w ith t he
sister, the family and the holy family, which sometimes includes a mother
who often, especially when it comes to the legacies o f fathers and sons, is
reduced to s omething like a r oom, a r oom t hat can b e rented only once;
and, a long w ith t he fa mily, w hether h oly o r p rofane, t he f ulfillment o f
the l aw in lo ve, e ven if lo ve i s co nstantly b estrewn w ith t he flowers o f
sexual a nd g enital love; s uch flowers in clude “ broom,” w hich t he French
call Genêt; something li ke f orbidden lo ves, t hen, lo ves t hat do n ot f ulfill
but violate t he law, if incest prohibition and exogamous, monogamous
heterosexuality are the law.2
One would have thought that Heidegger is even less likely to play a
role in such a love story than Hegel. Heidegger would be the pious sacris‑
tan’s son who pulls the rope of the death knell. Yet in The Post Card from
Socrates to Freud and Beyond Heidegger plays a m ore grownup and more
confusing role, at least in the Envois that open the text. ἀ ere Heidegger is
2. Another place to lo ok for anticipations of t he Geschlecht series, especially t he first of t he es ‑

says, is Derrida’s correspondence with Christie V. MacDonald during the autumn of 1981. ἀ ere
we s ee s omething o f D errida’s h ope f or a s exuality t hat i s n ot t rapped in a nd b y d ualities a nd
duels—later in t he p resent b ook w e w ill r efer t o t hat h ope. A lthough t he 1953 T rakl es say i s
not yet mentioned in the correspondence, Derrida has clearly already developed his response to
Heidegger’s 1928 Leibniz‑logic course. See “Choreographies: An Interview with Jacques Derrida,”
ed. and trans. Christie V. MacDonald, Diacritics 12, no. 2 (Summer 1982): 66–76. S ee now Points
de suspension, PS 95–115, especially 109–11.
Introduction 17
proclaimed one of the two grandfathers of our time, one of the two Pépés
or pleasure principles—or Primary Processes or Penmen/Postmen, Penny
Posts, and so on (CP 91; 206). True, these two, Freud and Heidegger,
never m et, n either a t V ienna n or, t o b e s ure, in L ondon; n ot e ven, o ne
must s ay, a t Z ollikon. ἀ ey n ever ex changed let ters o r p ostcards. En tire
worlds separate them. And yet. Together they constitute in D errida’s view
“the grand epoch,” the epoch that sees metaphysics—commencing with a
Plato who backs a w riting Socrates—entering into its end. ἀ ere is, as far
as I r ecall, no explicit mention of Geschlecht in t hese love letters without
destination, these postcards pleading for a rendezvous that never happens.
ἀ ere is a g reat de al of Geschick, that is, of skillful t hought concerning a
tragic destiny and an unreachable destination, but no Geschlecht. Perhaps
the most striking clairvoyance in t his regard, however, comes at the very
end of the Envois, which as a whole serve as a modest 260‑page preface to
two essays and an interview on Freud. ἀ ere, at the end (CP 271–72), Der‑
rida r ecalls H egel’s co rrespondence w ith hi s si ster C hristiane, p resented
at length in Glas, along with Hegel’s assertion in the Phenomenology of
Spirit that in t he emin ently et hical b rother‑sister r elationship t he b lood
is never agitated. A nd, oddly, D errida concurs. His own sister is t he one
person w ith w hom h e h as n ever h ad “even t he sm allest b eginnings o f a
quarrel.” Years l ater, b oth p ublicly a nd p rivately, D errida co nfirms t his
fact. “ It’s t rue, I sw ear i t,” h e s ays, di scounting a s a m ere a berration o f
childhood a n e arly a ttempt t o imm olate h er. I f t he Envois of La Carte
postale are filled w ith di ssension a nd di scord, a long w ith des perate lo ve,
it co uld b e t hat D errida i s p articularly s usceptible t o dr eams o f a lo ve
where n o q uarrel c an e ver a rise. A nd s uch dr eams o f lo ve w ould n ever
leave “the si ster” a ltogether o ut o f acco unt. S o s aying, w e find o urselves
upon t he very verge of t he four generations of Geschlecht and t heir mul‑
tiple phantoms of the other.
Chapters 1 and 2 o f the present b ook treat the first two o f t he
Geschlechter. Chapter 3, which treats Of Spirit: Heidegger and the Question,
only s eems t o in terrupt t he s eries; in r eality t his sm all m onograph, o ne
of Derrida’s most remarkable achievements, is very much a part o f t he
Geschlecht project. My own chapter 4 co mments on t he final, t he fourth,
Geschlecht, in w hich t he t hemes o f D errida’s s eminar, “ Philosophical
Nationality and Nationalism,” come to dominate. Only then, in chapters 5
and 6, do es the missing Geschlecht, the third, the unpublished Geschlecht,
make its appearance, first as a reading of the thirty‑three‑page Loyola
typescript, t hen as an account of t he 1984–85 s eminar, “ ἀ e Phantom of
the O ther.” Fin ally, c hapter 7 r eturns t o t he p oetry o f G eorg Trakl—and
to the lives of Georg and Gretl Trakl—both of which clearly “magnetize”

the Geschlecht project as a whole. Because Trakl’s poetry is not all that well
known in the Anglophone world, the book ends with two appendices, the
first p resenting in G erman a nd En glish en face a n umber o f t he p oems
discussed b y H eidegger a nd D errida, t he s econd a n umber o f p oems I
wish t hey h ad di scussed, p oems t hat e voke figures o f “the si ster” a nd o f
“the lovers.” In the end, as in the beginning, what magnetizes is the poetry.
1
Geschlecht I
Sexual Diἀerence, Ontological Diἀerence
D errida co nfesses him self r iveted b y H eidegger’s u se o f t he w ord

Geschlecht. D errida’s t wo p rincipal s ources in t he ini tial Geschlecht
article are, to repeat, Heidegger’s 1928 log ic le ctures, especially t he tenth
and e leventh s ections o f t he co urse, a nd t he 1953 es say o n Trakl, “ Lan‑
guage in the Poem: A Placement of Georg Trakl’s Poem.” The more posi‑
tive side o f Derrida’s reading claims that Heidegger is seeking something
like a p re‑dual s exuality, t hat i s, a n er otic p ower t hat i s n ot m arried, a s
it w ere, t o b inary diἀ erence a nd m ale‑female o pposition. The les s p osi‑
tive side o f his reading wonders w hether t he “order of implications” t hat
Heidegger t ries t o in stitute in f undamental o ntology—for exa mple, hi s
desire t o di stinguish o ntological s emination o r b estrewal ( die Streuung)
from ontic dispersion and dissemination (die Zerstreuung), and yet to pre‑
vent the “ontic” from becoming something merely negative and nugatory
on acco unt o f t hat di stinction—can b e s ustained. Geschlecht I t herefore
closes by confronting t he method of “privative interpretation” in and for
existential a nalysis a nd t he va st p roblem o f just‑plain‑life, that i s, o f lif e
as nur‑noch‑Leben, interpreted per impossibile as Dasein minus care—per
impossible since D asein minus c are e quals zero. Yet a m ore det ailed sy n‑
opsis is called for.
Derrida b egins his Geschlecht article by noting t hat it is e asy to s ee
and to say that Heidegger nowhere writes about sex and sexual diἀerence.
All t oo e asy. P erhaps faci le, t herefore—whether in di scussions a mong
“Heideggerians” themselves or among nonphilosophers who concern
themselves w ith “sexual p olitics.” The complaint i s of course not w ithout
justification. On e lo oks in va in for t he G erman e quivalents of t he words
erotic and sexual, or even male and female, in Heidegger’s magnum opus,
Being and Time. And e ven if “ birth” b ecomes an important t heme t here,
19
natality rather than or in addition to fatality (SZ 372–74), it turns out that
it is not a w oman but a Dasein that g ives birth.1 What can one t herefore
make of Heidegger’s silence concerning sex and the sexes—doubtless one
of hi s s everal n otorious si lences? D errida n otes t hat n either “ sexuality”
nor “politics” are m ajor items in H eidegger’s vocabulary, s o t hat it i s not
surprising t hat “ sexual p olitics” i s c learly b eneath him (P s 397/9). 2 Yet
Derrida is not in a hurry to correct Heidegger’s oversights or to fill his
silences. H is co ncern i s t o t hink t hrough “ the o ntological diἀ erence” in
Heidegger’s thought, especially as he develops it during the years 1927–28,
and to bring a n umber of questions surrounding “sexual diἀ erence” into
rapport with the ontological.
The exemplary b eing for t he existential analysis of Being and Time,
which i s t o prepare t he way f or t he q uestion of t he m eaning of b eing in
general, is Dasein. The Da- of Dasein does not manifest sexual diἀerence,
at le ast in a ny o bvious wa y. S uch a diἀ erence, a long w ith a ll t he ad ven‑
tures, joys, and calamities that accompany it, Heidegger would presumably
relegate t o s ome r egional o ntology o r t o o ne o r o ther co nstellation o f
the “sciences of m an,” t o biology o r anthropology, sociology or psy chol‑
ogy, o r p erhaps e ven r eligion. Or w ould h e? Could h e? W hat a bout t hat
extraordinary di scovery o f Heidegger’s c alled Befindlichkeit, which i s t he
initial yet global disclosure of the being of Dasein, the disclosure by which
Dasein “finds itself to be”? True, we translate Befindlichkeit hopelessly and
helplessly into English as “state of mind” or “disposition,” e ven t hough it
is c lear t hat Heidegger m eans s omething q uite diἀ erent a nd much m ore
fundamental. If we stay with the awkward expression, how‑we‑find‑our‑
selves‑to‑be, i s i t en tirely c lear t hat n ot m erely a t first a nd f or t he m ost
part b ut f undamentally s uch “ finding o urselves” h as n othing t o do w ith
our s exual b eing, o ur s exual r elations, a nd o ur s exual co nfusions? D o
our m oods a nd a ttunements t o t he w orld, o ur Stimmungen, in a ll t heir
astonishing variety and intensity, have nothing to do with our being sexed
and gendered creatures? Does that famous hormonal spectrum we learned
about lo ng a go di splay n o ra inbow h ues o f s exuality? Or do es t he w ord
spectrum imply t hat t he s liding s cale o f h ormones flattens s exuality a nd
sexual diἀerence out, as it were, to sheer indiἀerence? In any case, can we
1. SZ r efers t o M artin H eidegger, Sein und Zeit, 12th ed. (T übingen: M. N iemeyer, 1972), a
reprint of the seventh edition, released in 1953; the first e dition was p ublished in 1927. I refer
to the 12th edition by page (as here) or section number throughout.
2. In the body o f my text I will refer to the articles in the Geschlecht series, at least when the
particular source is clear, merely by a page reference to the French and English editions.
Geschlecht I: Sexual Diἀerence, Ontological Diἀerence 21
truly co nceive o f a Mitsein and a Mitdasein, that i s, a b eing w ith o thers,

other Daseins, that w ould n ot b e a t le ast influenced b y t he g ender a nd
genital identities, p erplexities, b oondoggles, a nd dr eams o f e very D asein
we have ever met? And what about that Berühren, that “touching” which
no c hair c an do t o a wa ll b ut w hich t he F rench chair, that i s, t he flesh,
does every day and every night? Are t he disclosures of touch ever slack?
Does t he er otic t ension e ver dimini sh t o t he zer o p oint? I s s uch t en‑
sion unrelated to t hose mig hty magnetisms, t hose famous reasons of t he
heart, that do n ot yield so quickly to our understanding? Are we entirely
clear t hat t hese mig hty lo destones h ave n othing t o do w ith f undamental
diἀerences, w ith t he m ultiple a nd p roliferating existentials—for a re n ot
sex a nd g ender diἀ erences a p rime c ase o f t he daseinsmäßig, that i s, o f
qualities that are “of the measure of Dasein” and that will not yield to
categories? W hy e lse w ould a ll t he w orld b e s o t errified o f t hem a nd
fling l abels o ver t hem s o des perately a nd p ass ci vil a nd r eligious l aws
concerning t hem a nd, if t he l aws w ill n ot s top t hem, h ow a bout m obs?
Finally, can Heidegger b e certain that the ontological diἀerence, n amely,
the diἀerence that opens up in t he clearing of being in order to let b eings
show themselves as themselves, has nothing to do with gender and sexual
diἀerences? D errida do es n ot s pell o ut a ll o f t hese q uestions a s I h ave
done here, but I suspect that such i ssues as Befindlichkeit, Berühren, and
Mitdasein prompt and prod his desire to juxtapose sexual and ontological
diἀerences. Yet let m e r ein in m y w ild s teed, w hether s tallion o r m are I
cannot tell, and return to Derrida’s and Heidegger’s texts.
Ontological diἀerence, or perhaps the pre‑ontological diἀerence (SZ
13, 16–17, 65), i s m arked b y t he c apacity o f a b eing t o a sk q uestions,
including t he q uestion o f t he m eaning o f b eing. F or H eidegger, s uch a
capacity h as t he hig hest p ossible va lue—it i s t he diἀ erence o f a ll diἀ er‑
ences, the diἀerence that makes all the diἀerence when speaking of being.
Thus “sexual” diἀerence does not seem to occupy the same “height,” hau‑
teur (396/8), as ontological diἀerence. “Sexual” diἀerence is perhaps ontic
diἀerence, diἀ erence w ith a n existentiel import, b ut w ith n o existential
significance. Yet it is not as though human sexuality invites commentary
only from the hacks who write for the illustrated weeklies that pile up in
slovenly s tacks at h air s tudios. Would p hilosophy co nsist o f f ootnotes t o
Plato if Plato had not had his beloved Socrates, who in turn “loved what
is m ost a live”? A nd w hat o f “solider” A ristotle, t he do ctor’s s on? A nd in
modernity, w hat co uld e ver r elieve t he l aboriousness o f b achelor K ant if
not hi s in cisive p ragmatic di scourse o n t he w iles o f w omanhood? W hat
tempts Schelling to sail oἀ to the ancient isle of Samothrace, there to seek
the pristine deity in D emeter and P ersephone, w hile his f riend H egel,
thinking of Schlegel’s Lucinde, grows grim about the mouth and drops
dialectic f or v itriol? W hat f orces N ietzsche t o admi t t hat, a fter a ll, t hese
jibes of his at das Weib are merely “his” truths? Where would philosophy
and philology be without the spark of Eros? Does that spark not attain to
the h eights o f q uestioning? Has Heidegger m erely silenced sex? A nd h as
he do ne s o m erely b y c hance? That s eems un likely. D errida wa gers t hat
such silence and such a silencing are worth investigating.
Heidegger is unwilling, in his fundamental ontology of Dasein, to
visit t he p arlous r ealms o f g ender a nd s exuality; i t i s a s t hough s exual
diἀerence i s n either h ere n or t here f or t he “h ere” a nd “ there,” t he Da-,
of Da‑sein. In s pite o f w hat w e h ave s aid a bove co ncerning t he exi sten‑
tial s tructure o f Befindlichkeit, a H eideggerian o f t he s trict p ersuasion
could cer tainly a rgue t hat s exuality a s s uch o ἀers n o r oyal r oad t o t he
structures o f b eing‑in‑the‑world, c are, t emporality, a nd s o o n, a lthough
“everydayness” h as a m uch b etter c hance. Yet Heidegger him self revis‑
its—or confronts for the first time—the question of sexual diἀerence soon
after the publication of Being and Time, in s ection 10 o f his 1928 le cture
course, “The Metaphysical Underpinnings of Logic, with Leibniz as Point
of Departure.”3 Here, in sections 10 and 11, Heidegger oἀers some “guide‑
lines” concerning t he problem of t he “transcendence” of D asein in Being
and Time. H e co nfirms w hat h e s ays p eremptorily in t hat b ook: f or t he
purposes of the question of being, the exemplary being is the one that
questions. That in terrogating, in terrogative b eing “ we g rasp t erminologi‑
cally as Dasein” (SZ 12; Ps, 399/11). In the 1928 course Heidegger explains
that it is the neutrality of the neuter‑gendered term das Dasein that justi‑
fies its u se f or o ntology. The n eutrality o f D asein i s c learly q uite g eneral
in its scope: Heidegger means to exclude all “ontic” relations, such as race,
nationality, age, personality type, intelligence, education, health, sex, gen‑
der, sexual preference, and all matters of lifestyle and personal taste. These
facets o f exi stence mig ht p ertain t o a p hilosophical a nthropology o r a n
ethics; they might even be discussed in w hat Heidegger calls—quite mys‑
teriously—a “metaphysics of Dasein.” Yet they play no role in fundamental
ontology, which is the ontology of neutral Dasein. Dasein is, as it were, the
3. Published a s M artin H eidegger, Metaphysische Anfangsgründe der Logik im Ausgang von
Leibniz, Gesamtausgabe vol. 26 (Frankfurt am M ain: V. K lostermann, 1978). Section 10 oἀers
some “guidelines” f or t he in terpretation o f Being and Time; section 11 de als w ith t he p roblem
of transcendence in t hat w ork. F or a det ailed di scussion, s ee IM, ch. 2, a nd D L, c hs. 5, 7, a nd
8, esp. 184–89, 248–51, and 252–65.
text from which the meaning of being can be read or deciphered (SZ 7).
Here Derrida repeats the point he makes in virtually every prior text of his
on Heidegger: even though the existential‑ontological self‑examination of
the questioner appears to guarantee the proximity of the research(er) to its
object, w ith t he q uestioner q uestioning t he (exi stence o f) t he q uestioner
him- o r h erself, D errida—perhaps r ecalling t he t raditional definition o f
thought‑thinking‑itself in A ristotle and Hegel—raises a s uspicion. Even if
Heidegger i s c areful t o cite repeatedly t he problem of p henomenological
access to the matter in q uestion, i s t here not something axio matic a nd
even p eremptory in t his initial decision? It is a de cision to name, to give
a neutral, neuter name, to the questioner: “This being that we ourselves in
each c ase are and t hat, among other t hings, h as t he ontological p ossibil‑
ity o f q uestioning, w e g rasp t erminologically a s Dasein” (i bid.). I f s uch
“grasping,” fassen, seems peremptory—Derrida does not shy from calling
it e lliptical a nd e ven b rutal (399/11)—Heidegger t akes p ains in hi s 1928
lecture co urse t o j ustify t hat de cision. The v ery first j ustification, in t he
form o f a “ guideline,” in volves t he c hoice o f a neuter word, das Dasein,
rather t han t he m asculine der Mensch. The n euter w ord m eans t o n eu‑
tralize all aspects of the being of the questioner except this one, to wit,
questioning. Neuter and n eutral D asein i s n ot in diἀerent t o its b eing, t o
be s ure. N euter a nd n eutral D asein i s the questioner—and o therwise, in
the purview of ontology, nothing.
The elimination of all ontic characterizations of Dasein, its sex, eth‑
nic origin, place and date of birth, and so on, is surely bound up with the
ontological priority that modern philosophy gives to the thinking subject,
the C artesian cogito. Derrida him self des cribes H eidegger’s r eduction o f
Dasein t o t he questioner as le trait nu de ce rapport à soi (Ps 399). I n
my first let ter t o him, d ated J anuary 3, 1983, w hich wa s in r esponse t o
the typescript of t his first Geschlecht, I a greed t hat t he “ terminological”
decision in Sein und Zeit appears t o b e “already f ramed in m etaphysical
subjectivity.” H owever, I a sked w hether t he em phasis o n Mitsein in t he
1928 le ctures (t he em phasis o n a t le ast two in t he Da- of Da‑sein) did
not “help to de‑center t he Selbstsein of D asein.” I s uggested t hat t here is,
at le ast by 1928, s omething li ke a p rofound a nd p rimordial Mitsein, and
that D errida him self mig ht w ish t o hig hlight—and e ven radic alize—his
treatment of Mitsein in this first Geschlecht.4
4. The correspondence with Derrida is available at the IMEC Archive in Caen.
And yet, whatever one may say of Dasein as Mitsein, the only neu‑
trality Heidegger discusses or even mentions, as though leaping ahead into
uncharted territory, which is the territory into which his second guideline
leads us, is that of a n either‑nor with regard to sexual diἀ erence. Neutral
Dasein i s m arked (p reeminently? ) b y Geschlechtslosigkeit, “sexlessness,”
“asexuality.” On e i s s urprised b y t his le ap a head, a nd, a lthough D errida
does not venture such an absurdity, one may in the confusion of the
moment b e t empted t o t ranslate Neutralität quite fa lsely a s “ neutered.”
Dasein i s “also,” a nd D errida un derscores H eidegger’s “also,” “ neither o f
the t wo s exes.” H eidegger t hus a ppears t o b e cer tain t hat t here a re o nly
two, but he does not ask whether this duality is an ontic‑existentiel hap‑
penstance o r a n o ntological desidera tum. The b eing t hat o r w ho we are,
viewed ontologically, is neither female nor male. In “our” factical concre‑
tion, “we” may presumably be one or the other; as those who are involved
in t heir b eing, h owever, w e are n either. Yet w hy n eutralize s exuality first
of a ll, a nd n ot only first of a ll b ut ex clusively, sin ce n o o ther ontic q ual‑
ity o r c haracteristic i s m entioned? A nd w hy co nfirm t he d uality o f t he
sexes by this very neutralization? From the outset, one must say, Derrida
is g ripped b y t his keines von beiden, “neither o f t he t wo,” o f H eidegger’s
proclamation, keines von beiden Geschlechtern ist.
At this point in hi s exposition Derrida himself leaps ahead. He notes
that almost thirty years later Heidegger will engage the issue of “Geschlecht”
in a ll its multifarious s enses. D errida do es not yet mention t he t itle of t he
relevant essay by Heidegger, but he is clearly referring to t he s econd essay
on G eorg Trakl in Unterwegs zur Sprache, “ Die S prache im G edicht: Ein e
Erörterung v on G eorg Trakls G edicht.” This i s t he t ext t hat “ magnetizes”
the en tire Geschlecht s eries—especially i ts t hird, un published, g eneration.
To r epeat, o nly in t he s ense o f “sex” w ill H eidegger b e cer tain t hat t here
are b ut t wo Geschlechter, and h e denies t hat t his h as sim ply t o do w ith
the grammar of the word. To be fair, one might object that it may have to
do w ith t he w ord i tself: die Geschlechter could o f co urse refer t o m anifold
generations, t ribes, and coinages, and yet t he most “natural” t ranslation of
the plural will always be “the two sexes.” Yet Derrida would surely reply,
and rightly reply: From what nature does this “natural” translation derive?
And would grammar alone account for Heidegger’s singling out the duality
of t he Geschlechter, neither o f w hich m arks t he q uestioner a s s uch? At a ll
events, w hether sin gular o r p lural, w hat i s t his t hing c alled Geschlecht all
about? And why must it be excluded from fundamental ontology first of all?
Derrida’s o pening s tatement co ncerning t his first g eneration o f
Geschlecht, footnoted in Psyché, merits extended quotation, in part because
it i s c lear a bout t he “ magnetism” o f H eidegger’s Trakl es say, b ut a lso in

part b ecause it mir rors t he gesture of Heidegger’s “placement” or “situat‑
ing” o f Trakl—as H eidegger si tuates Trakl, s o D errida w ishes t o si tuate
“Geschlecht” in Heidegger:
This es say, li ke the f ollowing one (“ The H and o f Heidegger:

Geschlecht II”)  .  .  .  will h ave t o co ntent i tself w ith s ketching
in a p reliminary fashion an interpretation to come by which I
would like to situate Geschlecht in Heidegger’s path of thought.
In t he path o f hi s w riting a s w ell—and t he im pression, o r
inscription, marked by the word Geschlecht will not have been
there f or n othing. I w ill le ave t his w ord in i ts o wn l anguage
for reasons that should impose themselves on us in t he course
of the reading. And it certainly is a m atter of “Geschlecht” (the
word for s ex, race, family, generation, lineage, species, genre),
and not of Geschlecht as such: one will not so easily clear away
the m ark of t he w ord ( “Geschlecht”) t hat b locks our acces s t o
the t hing i tself (t he Geschlecht); in t hat w ord, H eidegger w ill
much l ater des cry t he im print o f a b low o r a s troke (Schlag).
He w ill do s o in a t ext w e w ill n ot s peak o f h ere b ut t oward
which this reading is heading, and by which, in truth, I know
it is already b eing drawn as toward a m agnet: Die Sprache im
Gedicht. (Ps 395/7)
Much could b e m ade of t his b eing m agnetized, aimanté(e), a word

so close to aimer, “to l ove,” and to t he amant(e), “the lover,” a figure t hat
occupies D errida as much as it do es G eorg Trakl. C ould it p ossibly have
occupied H eidegger? H e t oo w ould h ave b een fa scinated b y t his w ord
aimanté, e ven if i t b elongs to t he French l anguage, inasmuch as its roots
go b ack t o t he earliest G reek t hinkers. The Petit Robert, which i s a ny‑
thing b ut p etite, h as s everal li stings f or t his w ord. The m asculine n oun
aimant appears to be a t ransmogrified diamant, our diamond or adaman‑
tine substance, and i t m eans a m agnetized s tone. Yet t he h omomorphic
adjective aimant, from the verb aimer, means “naturally inclined to love,”
tender a nd aἀectionate. Aimanté(e), “magnetized,” would therefore be a
word b eloved o f b oth Er yximachos t he p hysician a nd I on t he r hapsode
(of P lato’s Symposium and Ion, respectively); i t w ould b e a w ord a lso f or
the o mni‑magnetized L ucretius, w ho o ἀers u s a v ision o f t he p ower o f
an inverted magnet ( exultare etiam Samothracia ferrea vidi / et ramenta
simul ferri furere intus ahenis / in scaphiis, lapis hic Magnes cum subditus
esset: / usque adeo fugere a saxo gestire videtur, “I h ave e ven s een Sa mo‑
thracian iron dance, and at the same time iron fillings go mad in a bronze
bowl, w hen t his m agnet s tone wa s a pplied un derneath: s o e ager s eems
the ir on t o es cape f rom t he s tone!”—De rer. nat. 6:1044–46); finally, t o
truncate t he li tany, i t w ould b e a w ord f or b oth Em pedocles o f A cragas
and the greatest of contemporary neo‑Empedocleans, Sigmund Freud (SA
Ergänzungsband, 384–86); i t w ould b e o ne o f t hose m acro‑microcosmic
secret words that joins—by magnetism—human beings to the larger world.
“Magnetism,” i t m ay b e r ecalled, i s t he p rincipal c ategory f or S chelling’s
nature philosophy of the 1790s, w hich seeks the principle that unites the
organic a nd a norganic realms of t he uni verse. A v ery dra matic w ord f or
Derrida t o u se, no do ubt, a s t hough a m ere p oet, G eorg Trakl, h ad the
power to dra w a p hilosophical project entirely to him self. It i s a bove a ll
in t he t hird, un published Geschlecht t hat D errida wa s t o t ake u p H ei‑
degger’s 1953 Trakl essay in det ail. The fact that precisely this generation
of Geschlecht i s mi ssing i s t herefore de cisive f or t he “ situation” o f t he
entire s eries. I nitially, o ne m ay p ut t he q uestion n egatively: W here c an
the entire series be heading if i t is mi ssing i ts second pole, the o ne t o
which a cer tain magnetism draws it? As for the missing generation, only
one t hing is cer tain: it is headed toward t hat blow or stroke, t he coup or
frappe, the Schlag that is the very root of Geschlecht.
Astonishingly, yet perhaps also quite fittingly, it may have been Jean
Genet who gives Derrida the word aimanter, aimantation, or gives it back
to him, as it were. In his homage to Derrida, published by Jean Ristat in a
special issue of Les Lettres françaises in the spring of 1972, G enet cites the
opening lines of Derrida’s then recently published La Pharmacie de Platon.
He co mpares t hese lin es t o t he o pening lin es o f P roust’s À l’ombre des
jeunes filles en fleurs. The “attack” of D errida’s lines, in t he musical s ense
of an instrumentalist’s attack, is absolutely singular, acco rding to G enet.
Not the usual coarse dynamism of academic prose but a “gentle trembling”
leads each phrase to the next one. The sens of Derrida’s lines, in t he sense
of both their meaning and their direction, is guided by something entirely
new. G enet c alls it “a v ery s ubtle m agnetism [ aimantation] w hich w ould
be found, not in t he words, but b eneath t hem, a lmost b eneath t he p age”
(cited at BP 293).
Let us return to the “guidelines” of Heidegger’s 1928 le cture course,
especially t he guideline co ncerning “ sexlessness.” I t i s not Heidegger’s
silence a bout s ex b ut hi s p recipitation t oward i t t hat fa scinates D errida.
Neutrality “also” m eans t hat D asein i s a t le ast in s ome s ense s exless; in
spite of the “also,” however, sexual diἀerence is, to repeat, precisely where
the examples both begin and end. Perhaps the neither‑nor structure of the
word Neutralität, the ne‑uter indicating y et a lso n egating b inary o pposi‑
tion, le ads a utomatically t o t he ex emplary exa mple o f t he d uality o f t he
sexes. D asein is n ot human being, n ot der Mensch, and is t hus a fortiori
neither man nor woman, neither Mann nor Frau, and not e ven t he neu‑
ter das Weib. Leads automatically, did w e s ay? W hence t he a utomatism?
Whence t he p recipitation? W hence t he ex emplarity? P erhaps s ex i s a ll
the s tudents a re in terested in, a nd H eidegger i s m erely dra wn t o t hat
example, a utomatically, b y t he cir cumstances o f t he le cture h all? H ere
Derrida remains discreet, practicing a silence of his own.
Derrida notes t hat to pass from t he masculine and the feminine to
the neuter is clearly, for Heidegger, to pass toward the transcendental, that
is, t oward a m editation o n t he co nditions o f t he p ossibility o f t he being
of D asein. Sein is, w ithout a ny s ort o f qualification o r reservation, that
which t ranscends, das Transcendens schlechthin (SZ 38; P s 400/12). Sein
also lies b eyond any genus o r s pecies, and therefore a fortiori beyond
anything like male or female. Yet transcendence transcends many things,
and so, again, why stress sexlessness? One might think to explain it once
again in t erms o f t he d uality exp ressed in t he n euter i tself, a s t he t wo‑
fold ne‑uter, “neither‑nor.” I f D asein i s n ot der Mensch, then a f ortiori i t
can b e ne m ale uter f emale. O bviously. S o p atently o bvious i s t his t hat
one m ust a sk w hy H eidegger n eeds t o m ention t he fac t. I f f undamental
ontology a nd t he exi stential a nalytic o f D asein h ave n othing t o do w ith
anthropology a nd b iology, do es t he s pecial m ention o f s exual diἀ erence
suggest t hat s uch a diἀ erence m ay b e “ beyond” b iology? A nd, f or t hat
matter, beyond anthropology and even “ethics”? Beyond in the sense that
sexual diἀ erence m ay h ave a n im port a nd a n im pact t o w hich n one o f
the “ontic” discourses is e qual? Perhaps s exual diἀerence is not a m atter
of course, not a m atter that goes without saying, precisely in a n ontology
of diἀerence?
Sexlessness, n eutrality: a pparently t he n egative i s em phasized. A nd
yet. In section 10 o f the 1928 L eibniz‑logic course Heidegger argues that
the n eutrality o f D asein w ith r egard t o s exuality i s a nything b ut im po‑
tence. Rather, s uch n eutrality guarantees an “ original positivity” and a
“might of es sence” (ursprüngliche Positivität, Mächtigkeit des Wesens) in
Dasein. Indeed, Heidegger uses even stronger language—the language of
being a s s uch—in o rder t o c haracterize s uch mig htiness: “ Only o n t he
basis of the essence of ‘being’ [‘Sein’] and transcendence, only within and
on t he b asis o f t he f ull b estrewal [ Streuung] t hat p ertains t o t he es sence
of transcendence (cf. §10, guidin g statement no. 6), c an this idea of being
as plenipotence [Übermacht] b e understood; yet not by interpreting it in

the dir ection of a n absolute Thou, n or a s the g ood, nor a s value, nor as
the eternal” (26:211 n. 3). 5 Derrida takes Heidegger at his word—and the
generosity of his reading is nothing less than astonishing:
By means of such manifestly negative predicates, one must be

able to read w hat Heidegger do es n ot h esitate t o c all a “ posi‑
tivity [ Positivität],” a r ichness, a nd e ven, in a h eavily c harged
code, a “potency [Mächtigkeit].” This clarification suggests that
sexless neutrality does not desexualize; on the contrary, its
ontological negativity is not deployed with respect to sexuality
itself (which it would instead liberate), but with respect to the
marks of diἀ erence, or more precisely to sexual duality. There
would b e n o Geschlechtslosigkeit except w ith r espect t o t he
“two”; s exlessness w ould b e det ermined a s s uch o nly t o t he
degree that sexuality is immediately understood as binarity or
sexual division. “But here sexlessness is not the indiἀerence of
an empty v oid [ die Indifferenz des leeren Nichtigen], the w eak
negativity o f a n in diἀerent o ntic n othing. I n i ts n eutrality
Dasein i s n ot t he in diἀerent n obody a nd e verybody, b ut t he
primordial p ositivity [ ursprüngliche Positivität] a nd p otency
of being (or of essence [Mächtigkeit des Wesens]). (402/14)6
It m ay b e t hat H eidegger i s co ntemplating an a s y et un heard‑of

sexuality, a s exuality t hat i s “ pre‑dual,” “ pre‑differential,” a nd in s ome
5. In his review of the second volume of Ernst Cassirer’s Philosophy of Symbolic Forms, Heidegger
does not hesitate to describe “plenipotence” as the mana of so‑called primitive belief systems. He
writes: “The thrownness of Dasein implies a b eing delivered over to the world in such a way that
being in t he world is overwhelmed by that to which it is transposed. Plenipotence can announce
itself as such and in g eneral only to a b eing that is delivered over.  .  .  .  In its dependence on the
overpowering, Dasein is benumbed by it; only as akin to such a reality, only by belonging to it,
can Dasein experience itself. Accordingly, in t hrownness every being that is in a ny way unveiled
possesses the ontological trait of plenipotence (mana).” Heidegger’s quite extraordinary review of
Cassirer’s Mythical Thought appears in the Deutsche Literaturzeitung 49, no. 21 (1928): 999–1012;
the quotation appears at 1009–10. On t he “benumbment” or Benommenheit of D asein, s ee now
the discussion in chapter 4 of Krell, Derrida and Our Animal Others.
6. The s econd p oint I ra ised in m y let ter o f J anuary 3, 1983, wa s t o o bject t o t he t ranslation
of Mächtigkeit des Wesens as la puissance de l’être. I s uggested t hat Wesen and Sein n ot b e co n‑
flated. The t ext a s i t a ppears in Psyché (402) n ow r eads: “l a p uissance de l ’être (o u de l ’essence,
Mächtigkeit des Wesens).” A small point—except for the fact that every aspect of Heidegger’s
attempted metontology of 1928 appears to be large.
sense prior to all binary oppositions. If the duel between the sexes arises
from the dual itself, if t he war between the sexes arises from such binary
opposition, it may be that Heidegger is dreaming of a sexuality that flour‑
ishes—and mightily—precisely by escaping the dominion of oppositional
struggles f or p ower a nd t he r esulting v iolence. I n o ther w ords, D errida
suggests, t he p rivation o f sexual diἀerence with r espect to D asein may
function in t he way the privative‑alpha of ἀ‑λήθεια functions, which is to
say, not as a p rivation at all but as a li beration, emancipation, and upsur‑
gence of t he t ruth of b eing—ontological diἀ erence and t ranscendence as
such. To elaborate a b it: t he “concealment” and “hiddenness” in herent in
the w ord Unverborgenheit, “unconcealment,” i s in H eidegger’s v iew n ot
negative o r p ejorative. R ather, Geborgenheit suggests a b eing t aken in to
protection, un der w ing, a s i t w ere; r evealing do es n ot t ear w hat i s hid ‑
den o ut o f co ncealment. To un veil o r un cover i s t hus t o s afeguard t he
things. Hölderlin remarks that “love is happy to uncover tenderly” (CHV
2:60), and Heidegger would concur that such gentle discovery is what he
understands un concealing t o b e. The im plication w ould b e t hat s exual
diἀerence, as we know it, namely, as binary opposition, obscures both the
ontological diἀ erence b etween b eing a nd b eings a nd t he p re‑ontological
diἀerence b etween D asein a nd b eing; if b y m eans o f a m etaphysics o f
Dasein o r a m etontology w e c an s ucceed in r emembering t he o ntologi‑
cal and pre‑ontological diἀ erences, the oppositional and conflictual traits
of s exual diἀ erence m ay va nish. Or, inverting t he p roposition, if w e c an
envisage t he mig htiness o f es sence a nd o riginal p ositivity o f n eutrality
in D asein, w e m ay b e a ble t o t hink o ntological a nd p re‑ontological dif ‑
ference m ore in cisively. I t i s a lmost a s t hough—Derrida do es n ot g o s o
far, at least not explicitly—Heidegger is joining Freud in the search for
a s exual en ergy, a li bido, o r a n Er os t hat w ould b e uni tary, a nd in t hat
sense s exless; a lmost a s t hough Heidegger i s j oining L acan in t he s earch
for a singular sig nifier, a phallus that w ields t he power o f essence o nly
by di sappearing, ei ther in pudeur or r epression o r e ven in t hat f eminine
flaunting w hich we recognize in t he co ck of t he wa lk. This would mean,
not t hat t he sig nifier would h ave n othing t o do w ith desir e a nd dr ive,
but q uite t o t he co ntrary, t hat i t w ould b e s hared e qually b y m en a nd
women and all third + 1 k inds, indeed, shared as the fundamental source
of t he u psurgence o f b eing, t he f ecundity o f es sence, t he t ranscendence
of Dasein.
Yet this would mean that sexual diἀerence as we know it is both the
cause o f a cer tain di spersion o r f ragmentation o f D asein in to t he p ublic
realm—one is s exual t he way “they” s ay one is to b e s exual, w hether t he
“they” in question is wretchedly conservative or wildly liberated—and the

secret r esource f or a m ore o riginal f ecundity in D asein. I n o ther w ords,
“by s ome s trange y et v ery n ecessary di splacement, s exual di vision i tself
leads us t o negativity; a nd n eutralization i s at once the eἀect of s uch
negativity and the erasure to which a t hinking must submit this negativ‑
ity s o t hat a n o riginary p ositivity c an a ppear” (402/14–15). D errida i s
already w ondering w hether f or H eidegger t here co uld b e two strokes o r
blows de livered b y s exual diἀ erence, a m ore p rimordial a nd e ven t ran‑
scendental s troke y ielding p ower t o D asein a nd a s econd b low dr iving
Dasein into discord, dissension, and vacuous dispersion. If our Geschlecht
has been subjected to two Schläge, how are these two strokes or blows to
be envisaged? W hich co inage o r b low co mes first, t he n eutral d uality o r
the quarrelsome pair? Does one follow upon the other of necessity? And
if t he de leterious s troke co mes s econd, b ut co mes o f n ecessity, i s t here
any hope of restoration or recovery?
Derrida do es n ote h ow enig matic Heidegger’s “guidelines” a re, a nd
we m ay wa nt t o p ause a m oment o ver t he enig ma. A m etaphysics o f
Dasein seems to be in s earch of a cer tain puissance of essence that hides
within t he neuter term. What would b e our access to it? E xistential ana‑
lytic m ust b e co ncrete, i ts des criptions fac tical a nd p recise, i ts a nalyses
in no case derived from some un examined and traditionally inherited
and accep ted “ ideal.” I n Being and Time these des criptions a nd a nalyses
seem t o c ulminate in a s ense t hat D asein i s n ot mächtig, is n ot e qual t o
the thrownness of its existence, in spite of all the talk about resoluteness.
Whence, concretely, t he appearance of a mighty D asein? In hi s 1928 le c‑
tures, H eidegger r efers t o a n Ursprung and e ven a n Urquell, an “origin”
and “ primal f ont” o f exi stence, w ithout let ting u s k now w here s uch a
source may be found. Derrida notes that in the long essay Vom Wesen des
Grundes, from the same year, Heidegger broaches a simi lar possibility for
neutral, “ sexless” D asein. The i ssue h ere i s t hat o f “ selfhood,” Selbstheit,
one o f t he m ost p roblematic co ncepts o f t he s econd di vision o f Being
and Time. Why problematic? Simply because the “occurring” or “happen‑
ing” of Dasein, stretched and ecstatically self‑stretching between birth and
death, do es n ot a llow u s t o conceive of t he “self ” in a ny t raditional way,
as s ubject, eg o, p erson, co nsciousness, a nd s o o n. I n t he s ame wa y t hat
the interpretation of ecstatic temporality causes all prior interpretations of
the “dimensions” o f t ime t o t remble, s o do es t he s tanding‑out o f D asein
as Existenz (or ek‑sistence) m ake i t difficult t o un derstand w hy a nd h ow
Heidegger’s appeal to a “self ” is either necessary or possible. To be sure, it
has to do with the individuating of Dasein, die Vereinzelung, yet whether

the radically individuated Dasein can be called a “self ” is unclear.
The p roblem o f t he “selfhood” o f D asein co ntinues t o t rouble Hei‑
degger in t he 1928–29 es say—really a sm all monograph—Vom Wesen des
Grundes. Derrida lo cates in t his piece one of the rare references to s exu‑
ality, o r Geschlechtlichkeit, once a gain in t erms o f Neutralität. H eidegger
notes t hat t he p rincipal r elation o f D asein t o w orld i s exp ressed in t he
formula, Das Dasein existiert umwillen seiner, “Dasein exists for t he s ake
of itself ” (W 53). He takes pains, however, to deny that such individuation
has anything to do with egotism or “blind self‑love.” Neither isolation nor
self‑aggrandizement is meant, neither selfishness nor altruism, but rather
something that lies b ehind the possibility of all these. Again the founding
and grounding language of Being and Time appears—what Derrida would
call “the order of implication”:
Only because Dasein as such is determined by selfhood can an

ego‑self relate itself to a thou‑self. Selfhood is the presupposition
for t he p ossibility o f t he eg o, w hich o nly e ver di scloses i tself
in t he t hou. Yet s elfhood i s n ever r elated t o t he t hou; ra ther,
because s elfhood first of a ll makes a ll t hese t hings p ossible, it
is neutral toward I‑being and Thou‑being and all the more so
toward, say, “sexuality.” (W 54)
At least two t hings are very o dd in t his passage, and D errida notes
one o f t hem. W hy do es H eidegger em phasize s exuality h ere? W hy und
erst recht . . . ? This i s a n a f ortiori, t o b e s ure, a n “ all t he m ore s o.” I
and Thou and all the more so sexuality are n eutral in s elfhood. Yet t he
phrase i s e ven s tronger t han t his in co lloquial G erman. I t s uggests: “ To
say nothing of  .  .  .  ,” “And what really first of all applies here  .  .  .” In other
words, s exuality—if Geschlechtlichkeit may b e L atinized—would b e t he
prime c ase o f n eutrality, t he v ery first i tem t hat w ould h ave t o b e n eu‑
tralized. A s in t he L eibniz co urse, n o o ther o ntic f eature o f s elfhood i s
mentioned, neither race nor ethnic origin nor family nor generation, even
though Geschlecht could mean all of these. Strangest of all, however, is the
“say,” etwa, on w hich D errida do es n ot co mment. It t ranslates t he L atin
aliquando, “sometime,” which also comes to mean “somewhere” and even
“somehow” o r “ in s ome s ense, s ay.  .  .  .” Its g esture i s o ne o f un certainty
and in determinacy, a mounting t o a “ for exa mple, p erhaps”; i t i s o ften
invoked in co nditional c lauses, exp ressing s omething t hat m ay o r m ay
not prove to be appropriate. It is as though Heidegger were casting about

for a convenient example, perhaps looking up in the a ir a nd m oving hi s
hand in ra pid circles, s eeking an o bject a s y et un ascertained, waiting for
something to o ccur to him. As in the Leibniz course, however, sexuality
is all he can come up with.
Another v ery o dd t hing a bout t he p assage i s Heidegger’s a sserting,
very m uch in p assing, t hat t he eg o c an di sclose i tself o nly in t he Thou:
“Selfhood i s t he p resupposition f or t he p ossibility o f a n eg o, w hich o nly
ever di scloses i tself in t he t hou.” W hether H eidegger m eans t he p resup‑
posed s elfhood a s s uch o r t he der ivative p ossibility o f t he eg o i s dif ‑
ficult t o s ay; w hat s eems c lear i s t hat s omething v ery c lose t o “me” o nly
ever di scloses i tself ( sich erschließt) in t he Thou ( immer nur im Du).
It i s a lmost a s t hough h e h as h eard t he eg o‑psychologists a ssert t hat
the infa nt swa llows hi s o r h er iden tity w ith t he m other’s mi lk, t hat i s,
swallows t he m other with her mi lk, s uch t hat iden tity i s a lways o f t he
(m)other. Almost—although any communication between Heidegger and
ego psy chology s eems hig hly un likely. B y co ntrast, H eidegger i s c learly
aware of Martin B uber’s I and Thou, published f our years earlier. And i t
almost s eems a s t hough t here i s a s urreptitious r eference t o t he v oice o f
the “friend” that D asein, w hen it comes to t he disclosure of its ownmost
possibilities, “always carries w ith itself ”—the very t heme t hat w ill domi‑
nate the fourth generation of Derrida’s Geschlecht. If this seems too fanci‑
ful, co nsider t he final s entence o f H eidegger’s sm all m onograph o n t he
essence of ground: “And only by our being able to listen into the remote‑
ness does there temporalize for Dasein as a s elf the incipient answer that
arises f rom o ur D asein‑with, f rom o ur b eing‑with‑others, s uch t hat t he
ego c an a pply i tself t o t he t ask o f ac hieving f or i tself a p roper s elf ” (W
71). P eriphrastically r emote t hough h e o r s he m ay b e, t he a pproaching
friend a lone ext ends t o “ me” t he p ossibility o f s elfhood. This i s o ne o f
the p assages I w ould lo ve t o h ave di scussed w ith D errida. F or i t w ould
take Mitsein in a n ew dir ection, perhaps t oward that Urquell, introduc‑
ing Mitsein t o a dim ension in w hich t he “ with” p ertains t o Sein as s uch.
Much l ater in hi s lif e, D errida w rites t he s trange s entence, “ The a nimals
are not alone,” Les bêtes ne sont pas seules, which might also be rendered,
“Animals are not solitary” (B2 27; AO 38). It is as though after read‑
ing Heidegger’s “On t he E ssence of Ground,” a long with his 1928 le cture
course, o ne co uld w rite t he e ven o dder s entence, a s entence t hat mig ht
expand into an entire novel, “Being is not alone.”
The un canniness o f a s exuality t hat p ops u p w henever o ntologi‑
cal, metaphysical, and even transcendental matters are under discussion
reappears d uring Heidegger’s 1928–29 “ Introduction to Philosophy,” a

course t hat dem onstrates h ow dem anding H eidegger i s o n s tudents a t
the “introductory” level—taking up for discussion the most obstreperous
problems o f hi s o wn n ot y et f ully f ormed f undamental o ntology.7 I n t he
present “ introduction,” he is discussing the ontological b asis of co mmu‑
nity, Gemeinschaft, arguing t hat i t i s t o b e f ound, n ot in t he a ltruism o f
an I‑Thou relationship, but in a m ore primordial being‑with‑one‑another
(das Miteinander). Yet once again sexual (or gender) diἀerence announces
itself a s s oon a s t he n eutrality o f D asein (t he w ord a nd t he “ thing”) i s
invoked:
In i ts es sence, t he b eing t hat w e in e ach c ase a re, h uman

being [ der Mensch], i s s omething n eutral [ ein Neutrum]. We
designate t his b eing a s das Dasein. Yet i t p ertains t o t his
neutral es sence t hat, in asmuch a s i t exi sts fac tically in e ach
case, i t h as n ecessarily b roken i ts n eutrality [ notwendig seine
Neutralität gebrochen hat, that i s, “ broken,” “ broken w ith,” o r
perhaps “ refracted,” in t he s ense t hat s exuality “ refracts” t he
beam of light that passes through a p rism, so that sexuality as
such w ould b e “ refractory”—D. F. K.]; t hat i s t o s ay, D asein,
as factical, is in e ach case either masculine or feminine; it is a
sexual essence [ein Geschlechtswesen, perhaps a “sexed creature,”
although H eidegger n ormally u ses Wesen in t he s ense o f a n
essence o r a n “essential unf olding”—D. F. K.]; t his im plies a
quite det erminate b eing‑with a nd b eing‑toward o ne a nother
[ein ganz bestimmtes Mit- und Zueinander]. The limit and the
scope of the impact of this characteristic is factically diἀ erent
in each case; one can only show which possibilities of human
existence are not necessarily determined by the sexual relation
[das Geschlechtsverhältnis]. Precisely this sexual relation is pos‑
sible, however, only because Dasein in its metaphysical neutrality
is already determined by the with‑one‑another. If every Dasein,
which in each case is factically either male or female, were not
already in es sence w ith‑one‑another, t he s exual r elation a s a
human relation would be simply impossible. (27:146)
7. I a m g rateful t o William C. M cNeill f or this r eference to H eidegger’s 1928–29 Einleitung in

die Philosophie and for our discussions about it. Derrida had no access to this course.
To b e s ure, o ne m ust a sk: I f a n eutral D asein i s a lways a lready

refracted into sexuality, that is, if i ts neutrality with regard to the sexes is
factically and in fac t broken a p riori, whence the metaphysical puissance
or plenipotence of that neutrality? What do we who dwell under the mul‑
ticolored dome of eternity know of white light? Furthermore, what is the
status of t he (empirical? t ranscendental? ) c laim t hat s exuality i s “entirely
determined” a s a n ei ther/or, ei ther m asculine o r f eminine? W hat if t he
prism itself were a hormonal spectrum, rather than an either/or?
Heidegger’s o bvious s corn f or t he a ltruistic I‑Thou, a s corn m uch
more p ronounced h ere t han in Vom Wesen des Grundes, leads him t o
launch a p olemic a gainst “coarse m aterialism” in g eneral. On ly a F euer‑
bach o r a F reud (t he s econd n ot m entioned b y n ame) w ould s toop s o
low a s t o m ock t he es sential n eutrality o f D asein. The p olemic a gainst
coarse m aterialism in t urn le ads H eidegger t o co ntrast s exual r elations
with “genuine a nd g rand” friendship. Friends, s uch a s G oethe a nd S chil‑
ler, are comrades in the good fight, passionate for whatever the object of
that fight m ay b e. F riends, p resumably un like lo vers, do n ot “exchange
sentimental gazes [einander rührselig anschauen],” and they do not “enter‑
tain” one another with “the insignificant exigencies of their psyches [ihren
belanglosen Seelennöten]” (27:147).
It is important to state the conclusion to which Derrida is drawn by
these strange discussions in Vom Wesen des Grundes, discussions that are
even more unsettling in t he 1928–29 Einleitung in die Philosophie. It may
be that in these discussions of a metaphysical neutrality for Dasein Hei‑
degger merely stumbles across t he example of s exuality, p erhaps b ecause
(etwa) hi s s tudents a re m ore t han mi ldly in terested in i t; b ut s o a lso i s
his reading a udience in terested in i t, a nd t his i s a n a udience o ne w ould
have expected to be immensely learned and hence above all that sort of
thing. The log ic o f Heideggerian “selfhood” a nd o f t he “ being‑with” t hat
is in herent in s uch s elfhood i s u ltimately q uite s trange. D errida n otes
that the erst recht or a fortiori is “irreproachable” only on one condition,
namely, “on condition that the said ‘sexuality’ (in quotation marks) be the
certain p redicate o f w hatever i s m ade p ossible b y o r f rom i pseity, h ere,
for exa mple, t he s tructures o f ‘ me’ a nd ‘ you,’ y et t hat i t n ot b elong, a s
‘sexuality,’ t o t he s tructure o f i pseity, o f a n i pseity n ot a s y et det ermined
as h uman b eing, m e o r y ou, co nscious o r un conscious s ubject, m an o r
woman” (404/16).
The problem is reminiscent of the conundrum that hounded
Schelling (7:406–408; cf . 8:279–315): if diἀ erence m ay b e t raced b ack
to a n e arlier iden tity, t hat iden tity—if in deed i t co mes t o diἀ erentiate
itself—must co ntain t he s eed o f diἀ erence, a nd t hat s eed m ust a lready
in some sense be bifurcated. There must already be the dotted line along
which one tears. For example, if (1) good and evil are diἀerent from one
another, y et (2) b oth p artake o f t he “essence,” a t le ast if (3) t hat es sence
be human, w hich h owever (4) i s s aid t o der ive f rom n othing o ther t han
the di vine, t hen t he es sence i tself m ust i tself b e p redisposed t o di vorce
the two—there must be a tendency toward what Schelling calls Scheidung,
the “scission” o r “separation” a lways a lready a t w ork in b oth t he h uman
and t he di vine. E ssence i s t herefore r iven. Or, t o t ake t he r everse a s o ur
example, b ody a nd s oul w ould n ever h ave b een j oined in t he h uman
identity if they themselves were not at some point identical. Essence is
therefore uniform. If selfhood a nd its with‑one‑another are neutral, and
yet if ab ovo they s eparate o ut in to ei ther m ale o r f emale, a nd if s uch a
separation, horribile dictu, results not only in s exual congress but a lso in
sexual conflict, what is it about this “selfhood” and its “with‑one‑another”
that s o co mpel s eparation a nd s trife? I s t his n ot t he c lassic m etaphysi‑
cal problem, namely, t he attempt to g round negativity and dispersion on
what o ught t o h ave b een p urely p ositive a nd unified? I s H eidegger n ot
yet ready to surrender this kind of thinking?
It may b e t hat a certain suspicion weighs o n Heidegger, o ne that
he w ould lo ve t o b anish b ut c annot. I n D errida’s w ords, “ What if ‘ sexu‑
ality’ a lready m arked t he m ost o riginary Selbstheit? W hat if i t w ere a n
ontological s tructure o f i pseity? W hat if t he Da of Dasein were a lready
‘sexual’? ” (404/17). To b e s ure, s uch a Geschlechtlichkeit would b e q uite
diἀerent from the dual sexuality that begs to be neutralized or neutered. Is
Heidegger trying nonetheless to envisage it? What if something like “sexu‑
ality” were t o mark ( etwa) t he v ery “selfhood” o f D asein, t he “selfhood”
and the individuation, the “in each case mineness,” on which fundamental
ontology bases its entire analysis? What if the analysis of those beings that
are of the measure of Dasein, daseinsmäßiges Seiendes, Dasein as Mitsein
and Miteinandersein, and perhaps even of those beings that are not of that
measure, nicht daseinsmäßig, along with the analyses of appropriateness
and in appropriateness, o r a uthenticity a nd in authenticity, Eigentlichkeit
and Uneigentlichkeit, were ineluctably bound up with something like Eros?
What if something like “sexuality” were a primordial ontological and tran‑
scendental structure of ipseity, of remoteness and nearness? What if sexual
diἀerence “were already marked in the opening to the question of the
meaning of being and to ontological diἀ erence, so that, by that very fact,
neutralization would be a violent operation?” (ibid.). The suggestion may

even be broached as to whether the clearing of being, that is, Heidegger’s
Lichtung des Seins, along w ith t he v ery g ranting o f t ime a nd b eing, t he
themes that occupy Heidegger toward the end of his life, may have to do
with s omething o ther t han Mensch. If t hat w ord t oo h as t o b e cr ossed
out, s o t hat only t he Da- of Da‑sein is left, would t houghtful questioning
in a nd o f i tself r eveal t he s urvival o f diἀ erences, m ultiple a nd p rotean
diἀerences, subtle yet unmistakable diἀ erences, t hat c all for a r ethinking
of s exuality? The o nly p ossible a nswer t o s uch a q uestion, in D errida’s
view, lies in t he hope t hat b oth t he word and t he t hing c alled Geschlecht
can co me t o m ean s omething o ther t han t he d ual s exuality a nd t he t wo
genders a s w e k now t hem, o r b elieve w e k now t hem. D errida le aves in
suspense—as t hough i t w ere a q uestion f or a mi ssing g eneration—the
possibility t hat “another Geschlecht will co me t o in scribe i tself in i pseity,
or w ill come to derange t he order of a ll der ivations, for example, t hat of
a more originary Selbstheit, one that would make possible the emergence
of the ego and of the you” (ibid.).
The k ey t o a n a nswer, if t here i s o ne, lies in t he w ords Streuung
and Zerstreuung. The first means a s cattering of seed, a s owing, strewing,
or bestrewal. The s econd, w hich m erely add s t he emphatic prefix Zer- to
the word, means something like a b eing scattered to the winds, a c haotic
dispersion a nd t he r esulting di straction. I n L atinate l anguages, w e o ften
translate t he Zer- as dis-, the p roblem b eing t hat t he G reek δι ά, f rom
which t he dis- derives, m ay b e t aken in ei ther a s trongly p ejorative o r a
quite neutral sense. The διά of “diἀerence,” for example, simply means that
something h as b een “carried t hrough” o r “ borne o ut,” a nd t hat n eed n ot
be b ad. W hen a nd h ow do es t he through, the F rench parcours, become
the dis- of I c an’t get no satisfaction? Even though Heidegger consistently
denies t he n egative impact o f t he w ords t hat a rise f rom hi s w orst nig ht‑
mares, Zerstreuung, Zerstreutheit, Zerstörung, Zersplitterung, Zerspaltung,
scattering, di straction, des truction, f ragmentation, b ifurcation, t hese a re
the w ords t hat h e u ses w hen h e w ishes t hings w ere o therwise. Yet t he
problem i s n ot m erely w ith t he w ords. D asein i tself i s s trewn in to radi ‑
cal individuality, and the most serious task of fundamental ontology is to
help D asein co nfront i ts radic al in dividuation. W hen t he “mightiness o f
essence” strews Dasein, which is in e ach case my own, radically individu‑
alized, why is such bestrewal more acceptable and even desirable than that
more emphatic dispersion that makes of me a sexual token? What can the
positive neutrality of Dasein have been thinking when it allowed itself to
be s undered a nd s cattered? D errida r eturns t o t he 1928 log ic co urse in

order to note how recalcitrant the problem of bestrewal is.8
Heidegger n otes t hat D asein co ntains w ithin i tself t he t endency
toward a Mannigfaltigung or Vermannigfaltigung, that i s, a t endency
toward the “manifold,” literally, toward “multiple folds” of “development.”
Such “manifolding” or “proliferating” pertains to the might and positivity
of the essence that propels it. The mightiness of es sence, unfolding itself
positively, p roduces “ a fac tical di spersion” ( faktische Zerstreuung) in to
“corporality” ( in die Leiblichkeit). “And,” H eidegger n ow add s (26:173),
“thereby into s exuality” (und damit in die Geschlechtlichkeit). The “there‑
by,” or “with that,” or “ipso facto,” conceals the problem. A first scattering
or sowing o f seed reflects t he mightiness o f essence; it i s what m akes
Dasein concrete and embodied, “growing together” in itself. A second scat‑
tering, w hen t he w ind co mes u p, p roduces w hat everyone h as t o admi t
is a b oondoggle. E ven K ant c alled t he di vision o f h umankind in to t he
sexes an “abyss” that pure reason will never plumb. Yet worse is to come.
For D asein i s n ot m erely di spersed in s exual diἀ erence b ut a lways fa lls
on one side o f the line of that dispersion, so that one must say that each
individualized D asein i s zersplittert, “split” o r “ fragmented,” a nd zwie
spältig, “riven” in a p articular, det ermined s exuality ( in eine bestimmte
Geschlechtlichkeit). Hegel too complained of this split in hi s 1805–06 Jena
lectures o n g enital diἀ erence: h uman b eings n ever ac hieve t he g enus o f
their humanity, in asmuch a s t he products of t heir m ating forever fa ll on
one side o f t he g ender lin e. S uch en dlessly o ne‑sided r epetition i s w hat
he will later call “bad infinity.” Derrida u ses t he word morcellement to
translate t his Zersplitterung, a nd t his r eminds u s o f L acan’s u se o f t he
word “morcelized” (d’une image morcelée, ce corps morcelé) in hi s famous
mirror‑phase es say (É s 97). The infa nt o r sm all c hild t akes de light in i ts
8. The problem of a n ot merely neutral but positive and powerful Streuung (“bestrewal”), which
when em phasized a s Zer‑streuung (“dispersion,” “distraction”) b ecomes es sentially n egative a nd
pejorative, e licited m y lo ngest co mment in t he let ter o f J anuary 3, 1983. I h ope t o b e f orgiven
the self‑quotation, if only b ecause t he issue i s so im portant and so b affling: “ Yes, Zer- suggests
auseinander [a driving apart], and so is related to dis-, ‘two‑fold, dual.’ But nowadays Zer- seems
to b e a f orm of emphasis or intensification: cf. stören, zerstören [disturb, destroy], drücken, zer‑
drücken [press, squash]. Not so much a driving apart as driving to an ultimate or extreme point.
This i s im portant b ecause i t in dicates w hat y ou a re c alling ‘ the o rder o f im plications.’ P erhaps
it i s cr ucial in t he o rder o f Streuung (dissemination) a nd Zerstreuung (dispersion)? Streuung
belongs t o t he o rder o f Sein, Zer‑streuung to t he o rder o f Dasein. The q uestion o f t he Zer- is
the question of implication as such! Da‑Sein ist Zer‑Sein!! Etc.”
image, yet is already struck by the contrast between its apparent complete‑
ness o f figure—a b ody nice ly o utlined a nd si lhouetted in t he g lass—and
the chaos of its uncontrolled movements and the hunger raging inside. All
its lif e w ill b e s pent t rying t o s atisfy t hat im age o f co mpleteness, t rying
like A lfred H itchcock t o wa lk in to i ts si lhouette a nd fill i t o ut, w hether
that image be of itself or conjured in t he alluring figure of an other, etwa
in t he Thou o f s elfhood. D errida m akes n o r eference t o L acan h ere, n or
does h e co mment o n t he t echnologies b y w hich w e mig ht h ope t o do
battle a gainst g ender Zersplitterung. Surely, by m eans o f multiple s urger‑
ies (s topping j ust s hort o f a potemnophiliac a mputations) a nd de licately
mixed hormonal co cktails we c an exchange one morsel for another? The
only t hing t hat i s mi ssing, a pparently, i s t he t echnology t hat w ill m ake
us happy under our skin—although I read that the psychopharmaceutical
firms have promised that this cocktail too is right around the corner. For
the moment, however, morcelization. That too cannot be good.
Yet precisely this “cannot be good” is what Heidegger denies. N one
of these emphatic Zer- words, he insists, is meant pejoratively. While
rejecting t he A ristophanic s olution t hat s o a ttracted F reud (SA 3:266 n.
2), namely, the fantasy of a l unar sex of which today’s males and females
are the sundered parts, each part mad for its other, Heidegger affirms the
multiplication or manifolding of corporality, which, Heidegger says, serves
as a n “organizational factor” for s exuality. The metonology of D asein, i t
seems, does not shy from euphemism.9
Whatever a ppears t o b e t he r esult o f s cattering a nd di spersion,
Zerstreuung, derives f rom “ an o riginal di ssemination,” o r “ an o riginal
bestrewal” (eine ursprüngliche Streuung), which, while not exaggerated, is
mighty. (D errida s ays t hat t he word Streuung appears only once in t hese
Heidegger texts, yet it appears three times, each time trying desperately
to di stinguish b etween a f ecund m ultiplication a nd a s terile s cattering.)
As Derrida n otes, un derstating the matter somewhat, t he di stinction is
difficult t o m aintain. “Yet, even if not rigorously legitimate, it is difficult
to avoid a cer tain contamination by negativity, that is, by ethico‑religious
9. It is difficult to follow Heidegger’s sense here—of what serves as an “organizational factor” for
what. Derrida’s typescript originally had it as follows: “cette multiplication qui représente pour le
corps propre du Dasein un ‘ facteur d’organisation.’ ” In my letter of January 3, 1983, I s uggested
that H eidegger’s t ext h ad t o b e t ranslated diἀ erently: “ cette m ultiplication p our q ui le co rps
propre d u D asein r eprésente un ‘ facteur d ’organisation.’ ” I n t he v ersion t hat a ppears in Psyché
(407), D errida co rrected my g rammar, r eplacing my qui with laquelle. Yet h e s eemed t o accep t
my exclamation at the end of the note, “This subordination of the body is very, very important!!”
associations that would come to align this dispersion with a fa ll or some

sort o f co rruption o f t he p ure, o riginary p ossibility ( Streuung), w hich
would seem to be aἀected by some sort of supplementary turn” (407/19).
As r eaders o f D errida’s Grammatology will r emember, t he “log ic o f t he
supplement” always entails a certain fatality: what one wants to celebrate
as a n eutral o r p erhaps e ven p ositive a nd mig hty de velopment a lways
winds u p t ilting t he axi s o f t he e arth, s o t hat t he p lanet r eels; w hat t he
system requires but wants and needs to exclude will someday (etwa) strike
it with the full force of Melancholia. So it is with Streuung.
Perhaps one further glimpse at the 1928–29 “Introduction to Phi‑
losophy” w ill co nfirm t he s trangeness o f Streuung and Zerstreuung, that
is, of a bestrewal t hat s eems to slide from the heights of the transcen‑
dental t o t he p its o f t he em pirical—even if H eidegger o ften denies t he
negativity im plied in t he w ord Zerstreuung, “dispersion” o r “distraction.”
In hi s in troductory co urse H eidegger t ightens t he k not o f Zer‑streuung
by stressing t he p ositive nature of negativity itself for finite D asein: “ The
not‑character i s t hus p recisely t he a uthentic f orce o f t he exi stence o f
Dasein” (27:333). Dasein, in its thrownness, its being a self, and its being with
others, “is be‑strewn [zer‑streut] into the manifoldness of these relations”
(ibid.).
However, this di spersion [ Zerstreuung] i s n ot at all a dissolu‑

tion of Dasein into parts that fall to pieces. Rather, the reverse
is t rue: in t his di s‑persion [ Zer‑streuung, be‑strewal] D asein
attains and possesses the original, entire unity that is proper to
it. We therefore speak primarily not of a dispersion into these
relations but of an original bestrewal [Streuung]. Such bestrewal
is first o f a ll t he co ndition o f t he p ossibility o f a di s‑persion
[Zer‑streuung] in the sense that Dasein in each case can devote
its energies preeminently to one of these relations, but always
at the cost of its being unable to exist in the others. (Ibid.)
The result is that existence is always “compromised.” The power that

projects it into multiple possibilities is the power of a negativity, a fini‑
tude, that requires choices and decisions that themselves require compro‑
mises. A radic ally in dividualized D asein m ust t ry t o ga in a f oothold in
the s tream o f b estrewal a nd in t he w inds o f di spersion. B efore t oo lo ng
Heidegger i s in voking t he m ost en tangling f orms o f nullity and untruth,
“dissimulation,” “mere appearance,” “blindness,” and, of all things, Benom‑
menheit, “benumbment,” “ bedazzlement” (27:335). I t is a lmost as t hough
dispersion i s b oth t he t ruth a nd t he untruth o f b estrewal, w hich i tself i s

empowered by the nothing and nullity.
The emphatic form of Streuung, namely, Zerstreuung, belongs t o
Heidegger’s vocabulary for a co nsiderable period of time—from the Mar‑
burg period up to the very end of his career. It may b e useful—although
Derrida do es n ot do t his—to exa mine a m uch e arlier le cture co urse in
which t he p rofound a mbiguity o f em phatic b estrewal, a s di spersion a nd
dissemination, becomes somewhat clearer.10
In his 1921–22 lecture course, “Phenomenological Interpretations
of A ristotle: A n Introduction t o P henomenological R esearch,” Heidegger
elaborates on dispersion (Zerstreuung) as the category p ertaining to a
movement in w hat a t t hat p oint h e i s c alling “ factical lif e,” a m ovement
one mig ht c all in clination or proclivity ( Neigung). Such an in clining di s‑
persion in fac tical lif e a lready h as t wo co nsequences: first, lif e di sperses
itself in t he world, in this wa y “ prestructuring” i ts possibilities; s econd,
life returns to itself only in t he reflected and refracted lig ht of t hese di s‑
persed p ossibilities, co ming b ack t o i tself a s “ relucence.” The first di s‑
persion is enabling, t he s econd cr ippling. “Self‑dispersing life encounters
its w orld a s ‘ dispersion,’ a s di spersing, m anifold, r eplete, p reoccupying,
vacuous, monotonous” (61:120). Indeed, the nascent structures of ecstatic
temporality can be seen through the fog of such duplicitous dispersion,
which i s b oth “ manifold” a nd “ monotonous”: w hen lif e in clines t o t his
or t hat p ossibility, i t m oves (t oward) i tself, auf sich zu, t he p repositions
that in Being and Time m ark t he f uture e cstasis. W hen lif e t akes c are o r
trouble concerning the things t hat a re c losest t o i t a t p resent, i t radi ates
back u pon i tself, auf sich selbst zurück, t he p repositions t hat m ark t he
ecstasis of having‑been. Thus t he animatedness of inclination is b oth t he
seedbed o f e cstatic t emporality p roper a nd t he q uagmire o f di spersion,
distraction, a nd s heer di version. I n t he m argin o f hi s le cture n otes H ei‑
degger w rites: “ The s pecific larvance [t hat i s, m ask a nd m asquerade] in
the a mbiguity o f t he lin guistic exp ressions o f t he categories o f fac ticity
is n ot acciden tal. Zerstreuung: (1) di spersing i tself (p restructuring); (2)
the dispersal (relucent)” (ibid.). The implication is that relucent dispersal
is t he un avoidable eἀ ect ex erted o n fac tical lif e b y t hings in t he w orld,
whereas the reflexive sich zerstreuen functions as an inevitable, necessary,
and a p riori s tructure, a t ranscendental p restructuring, Praestruktion. A
tension remains between the prior, potent, enabling “prestructuring” dis‑
10. The following account is based on DL, 185–86, with apologies for the repetition.
persal o r “ bestrewal” o f fac tical lif e in i ts co ncerns a nd t he s ubsequent

reactive, structurally posterior dispersion, distraction, and scatteredness of
that same life. Factical life thus sows the seeds of its own dissipation and
ruin. The “fundamental peculiarity of life’s animatedness,” says Heidegger,
is “ ruinance, p etrifaction” (i bid.). A nd y et, a s lif e lo cks i tself a way f rom
itself, incarcerates itself in t he prison of an endlessly distracting world, it
experiences a n in choate f orm o f t ranscendence: fac tical lif e, p recisely b y
means o f i ts d uplicitous di spersion, i s “away from itself,” “outside itself ”
(61:123: “Von‑sich‑weg,” “Aus‑sich‑hinaus”). Such nascent transcendence,
which Heidegger will later call ecstatic, is mighty. “The mightiness of relu‑
cence in t he v ery m ovement o f in carceration  .  .  .  wins f rom t his flight
from itself the modes in which it occupies itself with the world and with
itself ” (i bid.). Thus t he s eeds o f r uin t urn o ut t o b e t he s eeds s trewn b y
the p rimal, a byssal g round o f exi stence, b y fac tical lif e i tself. The o ntic
germinates, burgeons, and blossoms into ontology.
Note t he a lteration in b oth t he ratio cognoscendi and ratio essendi
of t he e arlier (1921) a nd t he l ater (1928) in terpretations o f Zerstreuung.
In 1921 w e le arn o f “prestructuring” o nly a fter f ollowing t he in clination
of taking flight from ourselves and locking ourselves away, and even then
we learn of the positive (or at least neutral) mode of dispersion only
in t he r eflected lig ht o f t he w orld. H ere i t i s Reluzenz that i s “ mighty.”
Vacuity itself reveals the prestructuring in its reflected light. In 1928, by
contrast, H eidegger t ries t o p rotect t he mig htiness o f es sence, w hich i s
the mig ht o f b eing, f rom t he em phatic di spersion t hat c an o nly r esult
in s heer di straction. Sein, rather t han r uinous, w ill b e t he g ranting. The
1928–29 “ Introduction t o P hilosophy” s eems t o b e s omewhere b etween
these two versions of Zer‑streuung. But to return now to Derrida’s reading
of the 1928 text(s) and, underpinning them, the text of Being and Time.
The suspicion obtrudes t hat the entire eἀort in Being and Time
to den y t he n egativity o f s tructures s uch a s Geworfenheit, Bewegtheit,
Uneigentlichkeit, Alltäglichkeit, and Verfallen, along w ith Zerstreuung,
that i s, t he eἀ ort t o a ssert t he p ositivity o r at le ast m odal n eutrality (f or
existential analysis) of t hrownness, “movedness,” in appropriate exi stence,
everydayness, fa lling p rey o r en snarement, a nd v irtually e very f orm o f
dispersion a nd di straction, un dercuts t he v ery p roject o f a di smantling
or deconstruction of the history of ontology. And when in t he 1928 log ic
course Heidegger t ries t o a void t he n egativity im plied in s exual b ifurca‑
tion b y in sisting t hat t here i s a “ generic s triving f or uni ty” in t he s exes,
ein gattungshaftes Zusammenstreben, Hegel’s philosophy of nature—taken
over un critically, w ithout a nything a pproaching a de construction—is
i mmediately there to confirm it. I n other words, the alteration in Hei‑

degger’s ratio cognoscendi, endeavoring t o prove t o i tself t hat i t mir rors
the ratio essendi of being a nd the mig ht o f essence, collapses b ack into
the m ost c lassical f ormulations o f P latonic‑Christian o ntotheology a nd
metaphysics. Moreover, Heidegger’s eἀort to deny the analysis any ethical
intent, a nd hi s desir e t o exp unge e very ps eudo‑Christian t heme t here,
runs against the grain of his own powerfully felt need to resist the inertia
of t he tradition. His own desire to “dequotidianize” existential analysis—
Heidegger speaks of an Entgegenwärtigung des Heute, “a de‑presentifying
of o ur t oday” (SZ 391, 397), a s a n es sential h ermeneutical p rocess, o ne
that strips everydayness from our understanding of our own history—sug‑
gests that t here is s omething n egative a bout the wa y o ne philosophizes
today, in deed, s omething di stracted a nd di spersed, s omething ruinous.
Not for nothing is Ruinanz the favorite word of the early Marburg lectures,
replete a s t hey a re w ith imprecations a gainst t he r uinous di spersion a nd
distractedness o f co ntemporary humanity, in cluding i ts p hilosophers. A s
we shall see, the missing third Geschlecht will be concerned above all with
the fatality of an inevitable contamination of the mighty essence, the fatal‑
ity of a supplemental turn that proliferation takes into a conflictual‑sexual
catastrophe. Already here in t he first, however, and cer tainly by t he t ime
of t he t hird, it b ecomes in creasingly difficult t o accep t Heidegger’s in sis‑
tence that there is nothing of Platonism and nothing of Christianity in his
ruing of the ruinous fall, of our dispersion in the “they,” of the oblivion of
being precisely in o ur p hilosophers, a nd of t he second blow—the Schlag
or c urse o f di scord a nd di spersion in Geschlecht. S exuality a nd di scord?
How v ery m uch li ke t he a pple o f P aris, “ the a pple o f Di scord,” o r t he
dudaim (that i s, t he M andragora) o f J acob a nd a ll hi s w ives, t he “ for‑
bidden f ruit” o f E ve a nd A dam. I f D asein, a s a nalyzed in s ection 12 o f
Being and Time, is dispersed and even fragmented (zerstreut, zersplittert);
if Dasein is bemused a nd benumbed b y its idle curiosity (section 36);
if t here i s in evitable a lienation f rom i ts o wnmost p ossibility o f b eing; if
there i s fa lling p rey a nd r uination a nd e ven cra shing ( Absturz), t hen i t
will become increasingly difficult for Heidegger to distinguish between
the falling of Dasein and Hegelian spirit’s plunge into time. “Much later,”
writes Derrida, once again alluding to the second Trakl essay, “Heidegger
will interpret the decomposition of the human Geschlecht as a disessenc‑
ing, o r los s o f es sence, t hat o ccurred e ons a go, Verwesung t aken li terally
as a Ver‑wesen of the figure of man” (413/25).
Yet e ven t he m ost “ innocent” s tructures o f t he a nalytic o f D asein,
those that do n ot seem to p ortend a fa ll, appear to b e marked by a k ind
of di sessencing. I f D asein a t first a nd f or t he m ost p art i s di spersed in

a w orld, a w orld t hat r eflects b ack o n i t a nd c auses i t t o mi sinterpret
itself—again, t he p henomenon o f Reluzenz—and if D asein a t first a nd
for t he m ost p art confronts n ot a sin gle o bject but i s di spersed among a
totality of object‑clusters—the phenomenon of t he Bewandtnisganzheit—
then di ssemination a ppears t o b e i ts v ery fa te. I f D asein i s “ stretched”
and “ self‑stretching” b etween b irth a nd de ath, s uch s tretching i s n ot a
mere C artesian “extension” o f D asein in to s pace b ut w hat D errida c alls
espacement, “spacing,” such that Dasein may be said to be a m ere interval
between its birth and death. And if, moved and even “thrown” forward
and b ack by e cstatic temporality, D asein “stands out” in t he world, t here
may be a sense in w hich it sticks out like a sore thumb, and Heidegger is
perhaps never far from what Hegel calls “unhappy consciousness.” Dasein
“happens,” and its “occurrence,” Geschehen, is its sole history, its Geschich‑
te. Perhaps s omething o f t he co llectivity, t he Ge- of b oth Geschichte and
Geschlecht, is m arked in t he v ery b eing o f e very radic ally in dividuated
Dasein. If Dasein is the in‑between, then diἀ erence and dispersion s eem
to p ertain to it essentially. Heidegger himself, especially in 1928, s tresses
that Mitsein or the Miteinander, our being with others, is a r esult of tran‑
scendental di spersion. Yet h ow o ften D asein exp eriences i ts b eing‑with
as a s cattering of forces and a di straction! “Here I a m,” a s t he s ong s ays,
“stuck in the middle with you.” Yet Heidegger once again refuses to accept
sexual diἀ erence a s o riginal a nd in evitable: D asein, a s Mitsein, “cannot
be explained in t erms of a g eneric being that claims to be original,” such
that its p eculiar embodiment der ives f rom s ome “sexually s undered cor‑
poreal essence,” geschlechtlich gespaltenen leiblichen Wesen. If we ask what
the o riginal mig ht a nd p ositivity o f es sence a re, a nd f rom w hence t hey
derive, Heidegger do es n ot h esitate t o r eply t hat t hey a re o f b eing, Sein.
There i s, t hen, a “ transcendental di spersion” in t he v ery b eing o f D asein
that, fa r f rom b eing n eutral, s eems t o der ive f rom w hat H egel c alls “the
monstrous power of the negative.” The nothing, as we know, is also mighty
in H eidegger’s exi stential a nalytic, a nd i t do es n ot los e i ts p ower in t he
later thinking of Ereignis.
For Heidegger, however, the essential neutrality of these descriptions
is to b e preserved. It t herefore once again s eems t hat t here are two kinds
of falling and dispersion, or, better, that falling and dispersion are marked
twice in Heidegger’s a nalyses, first a s a g eneral s tructure o f D asein, a lto‑
gether a ppropriate o r a t le ast m odally n eutral, a nd s econd, der ivatively,
as a m ode o f in appropriateness. D errida wa nts t o in quire in to t he o rder
of implications by which the first coinage, the felicitous or at least neutral
one, t he mig hty o ne, s eems t o m ake t he s econd co inage—the s ad b irth‑

mark o n t he b row o f m an, a s M elville c alls i t—inevitable. A nd D errida
does not doubt that the sad birthmark, in spite of Heidegger’s denials, has
at least something to do w ith the tradition Heidegger himself will deride
as “Platonic” and “Christian.”
In the final pages of the first Geschlecht, Derrida broadens the scope
of his inquiry. It is now the “privative” interpretation (in s ections 10 a nd
12 of Being and Time) of life in g eneral, nur‑noch‑Leben, “just plain life,”
that t roubles him. B ecause a f undamental o ntology o f D asein a lone c an
display the possible projects of Dasein, and because the inquiries into life
by b iology, psy chology, a nd a nthropology a re m erely s ome a mong t he
many s uch p ossible p rojects, f undamental o ntology a sserts i ts p riority.
Yet t his p riority t ranslates in to a m ethod o f p rivative in terpretation t hat
proceeds b y s ubtraction. W hat a bout lif e f orms t hat a re n either o f t he
measure of Dasein nor entirely “at hand” as things? Neither “existentials”
nor “categories” would appear to save their appearances. Just‑plain‑life is
perhaps a k ey in stance in w hich di stortions a nd o bfuscations a re b ound
to o ccur. A cer tain m ethodological “ negativity” i s es pecially a pparent
here, a nd y et, Heidegger w ould in sist, t hat n egativity i s n ot t he r esult o f
some co ntingent l apse o r mi shap o f interpretation. Heidegger i s a nxious
to p reserve t he “ neutrality” o f s uch n egative a ppearances, a s w hen h e
says in section 12, “The being‑in‑the‑world of Dasein, with its facticity,
has always already been dispersed [zerstreut] in determinate ways or even
fragmented [ zersplittert]” (SZ 56; P s 412/25). On e finds a do zen p laces
in Being and Time where di spersion seems to h ave a s trongly p ejorative
sense, but only one where the sense is positive, that one referring to the
call of conscience that “disperses” all our fleeting distractions and disper‑
sions (SZ 273). I ronically, if t he neutrality of the neuter form das Dasein
rescues existence from the negative eἀ ects of dispersion, the neuter form
of the “they,” das Man, does not do so. (Note that in section 27 Heidegger
specifically r efers t o t he Neutrum of “ the t hey.”) N or do es a ny f orm o f
neuter Gerede rescue us.
Yet Derrida does not close the first Geschlecht with these doubts. He
concludes in stead b y r einvoking t he h ope t hat “ the r etreat o f t he d yad”
in H eidegger’s s trange t reatment o f s exuality (o r, in Being and Time, his
nontreatment) will open the possibility of a m ore original, more positive,
and m ore p owerful s exuality. S uch a h ope w ill in fac t s ustain D errida’s
interest in t he ostensibly nonexistent theme of “Heidegger and sexuality,”
sustain it throughout the decade of the 1980s and even beyond.
Let us now, by way of summary and conclusion, point to the seven

specific places w here t hemes t hat w ill b e central t o t he unpublished a nd
incomplete Geschlecht III are introduced already in the first Geschlecht.
First, the difficulty of deciding w hether s exual division and duality,
along with the imputed neutrality and sexlessness of Dasein, are problems
or solutions, will be at the center of Geschlecht III. For the question as to
whether in t he r ealm o f s exual diἀ erence(s) n egativity a nd p rivation o r
positivity and might of essence are to be stressed prefigures the problem of
the two strokes (Schläge) of Geschlecht in Heidegger’s Trakl interpretation.
To anticipate, we may say that one of these strokes will be beneficial or at
least neutral, whereas the other will turn out to be the very essence of evil.
Second, Derrida emphasizes t hroughout this first generation of
Geschlecht issues o f idio m a nd l anguage, in cluding Heidegger’s t endency
to reserve all positivity for German words, employing Latinate expressions
only by way of p ejoration. Geschlecht is one t hing, sexus another, s o t hat
the u sual di stinction b etween w ord a nd t hing do es n ot a pply h ere. At a
certain point in his first Geschlecht essay Derrida asserts that “we will even
come to see that the thinking of Geschlecht and the thinking of translation
are essentially the same” (405/17).
Third, D errida invokes w hat w e mig ht readily t ake t o b e a u topian
hope, n amely, t hat a n “ other” f orm o f s exuality, a n ondual, n onbinary
sexuality, m ay b e s een a s p ermeating w hat H eidegger c alls t he s elfhood
(die Selbstheit) of Dasein.
Fourth, the difficulty in un derstanding the negativity and positivity
of bestrewal, dissemination, dispersion, and distraction (die Streuung, die
Zerstreuung, die Zerstreutheit) w ill co ntinue t o p lay a n important r ole in
the t hird g eneration. I n t his r egard, H eidegger’s in heritance o f cer tain
negative valuations, stemming (Derrida will argue) from unacknowledged
ethico‑religious sources, will have eἀects that Heidegger very much wants
to deny. Here the theme of contamination, central to deconstruction gen‑
erally, will become important.
Fifth, and closely related to the foregoing, the question as to whether
some s ort o f “fall” f rom a p rior s tate o f r elative p erfection, a l apse f rom
being, characterizes Heidegger’s thinking—again, in spite of his energetic
denials—will dominate much of the later discussion.
Sixth, o ne o f t he f ew s pecific references t o H eidegger’s 1953 T rakl
interpretation occurs when Derrida, countering Heidegger’s denial of the
negativity im plied in di spersion, di straction, t he “they,” cra ving t he n ew,
falling prey, plummeting and crashing, focuses on Heidegger’s acceptance
of Trakl’s “accursed Geschlecht,” that is, Heidegger’s reading of the curse in

terms of decomposition and disessencing (Verwesung). Derrida will affirm
that it is difficult to discern the positivity and potency—to say nothing of
plenipotence—of such decomposition and curse.
Finally, s eventh, D errida n otes t hat f or H eidegger t he di spersion
or dissemination of Dasein seems to occur twice: first as a putatively
neutral dispersion or even fragmentation (Zerstreuung, Zersplitterung)
into m anifold p ossibilities o f b eing‑in, but t hen a s t he deficient m odes
of e verydayness a nd in appropriateness. The twofold stroke o f b estrewal
and di spersion—doubtless in a n a ltered f orm, a f orm h aving les s t o do
with the fundamental ontology of Dasein and more to do with Heidegger’s
conversation with poetry—will be a cen tral theme of the third generation
of Geschlecht.
2
Geschlecht II
Heidegger’s Singular Hand
I n a note added to the end of Geschlecht I as it appears in the 1987 Psyché,

Derrida dir ects hi s r eaders t o t he sim ultaneously p ublished Of Spirit,
but a lso t o hi s b rief p roleptic di scussion o f t he mi ssing t hird Geschlecht
in “Heidegger’s Hand (G eschlecht II),” to w hich we must now turn. L ike
the ἀr st in t he s eries, t he s econd, i tself di vided in to t wo m ajor s ections,
arises f rom t he s eries o f s eminars D errida h eld in P aris o n “ Philosophi‑
cal Nationality a nd Nationalism.” It w ould b e co ntroversial t o s ay—yet I
will say it—that this second Geschlecht is far more strongly marked by its
context t han t he ἀr st. M oreover, t he f ocus o n p hilosophical n ationality
and nationalism will alter the remaining generations as well, shifting their
emphasis toward questions of nationality and away from the possibility of
a nonbinary sexuality. Derrida never stops dreaming of this possibility, but
the p olitical ur gency o f “ the n ational” a nd “ the n ationalistic” in terrupts
that dream and propels it in new directions.
“Heidegger’s Hand (Geschlecht II),” composed of two parts, is writ‑
ten w ith b oth h ands, a s i t w ere, a nd i s t hus r eminiscent o f t he m agic
writing p ad o f D errida’s 1967 “ Freud a nd t he S cene o f W riting” (ED
293–340). One of the two hands, as it turns out, must always erase the
assertions of the other, especially when more than one language or idiom
is involved and the ever‑present problem of translation intensiἀes. Derrida
begins w ith a n a nalysis o f t he s eventh o f Fic hte’s Reden an die Deutsche
Nation, which a ppeals t o “ the s pirituality o f o ur race ,” die Geistigkeit
unsers Geschlechts, presupposing t hat “ race” c an ade quately t ranslate t he
word Geschlecht and t hat “spirituality” c an ade quately t ranslate t he word
Geistigkeit, w hich o f co urse i s t rue in n either c ase. Yet t he q uestion o f
Geschlecht touches o n t hese differences o f n ational idio m t hroughout—
even w hen t he discourse, as in Fic hte’s c ase, promises to open t he hands
47
and arms of the German people to all intellectual‑spiritual persons across

the g lobe, a ll “li ke‑minded,” a s w e s peakers o f En glish lo ve t o s ay. S uch
openness, s uch h ospitality, i s do ubtless Fic hte’s intent. Yet h ow w ide c an
those hands and arms open? Do they open wide enough to embrace (or as
Heidegger would s ay, gather, versammeln) a ll races, et hnic g roups, s exes,
and life forms—provided we and they can all agree on the gist of Geist and
Geistigkeit? Fichte employs a p articular idiom on which Derrida does not
comment, one that seems particularly striking to me. “Whatever” believes
in s uch “spirituality” o r “ intellectuality,” w rites Fic hte, a nd i t i s o dd t hat
he avoids the “who,” as though the selection will not be reduced to some
subjective or personal whim, “whatever” believes, he says, “belongs to us
and will join us” (416). This “will join us,” wird sich zu uns thun, strikes a
note of conviviality and commitment that is hard to capture in a ny other
idiom. I f a f riend—or e ven a s tranger—enters a t ent a t a lo cal w ine o r
music festival in G ermany, he or she may be invited to “do themselves to”
a table of hospitable folk. Sich tun suggests (at least to my ear) a kind of
intimacy, camaraderie, and conviviality that “to join” cannot capture. “To
lie or to place somewhere” is the basic meaning, according to Hermann
Paul’s lo ng a rticle o n t he w ord (HP 679–81); P aul ci tes a n egative y et
telling example from Martin Luther: Niemand soll sich zu seiner nächsten
Blutsfreundin tun, “No o ne s hould sich tun zu his c losest b lood‑relation
of the female sort.” Luther may be referring to the seating order at the
table, but he appears to be worried about something else.
At s take in t he exp ression ist unsers Geschlechts, a s D errida r ightly
indicates, is the very humanity of a h uman being. If one is invited to the
table, i t i s in ac knowledgment o f s omething p rofoundly s hared; if o ne
may s ay s o, in ac knowledgment o f t he s hared Geschlecht. What h appens
when this conviviality goes missing? Recall the sense of lament that runs
through R oberto C alasso’s ext raordinary b ook, The Marriage of Cadmus
and Harmony, namely, t he p laint t hat h uman b eings n o lo nger d are t o
invite t he g ods t o si t a t t heir t able. E ver sin ce t he s plendid y et ra ther
raucous night of the marriage feast of Cadmus and Harmony, for reasons
that never become clear, the gods are our foes; we know this because when
we t ry t o en ter t heir s pace t hey n ever s ay, n ever e ven dr eam o f s aying,
Tun sie sich aber zu uns. “After t hat r emote t ime w hen g ods a nd m en
had b een o n fa miliar t erms,” w rites C alasso, “ to in vite t he g ods t o o ne’s
house b ecame t he most d angerous t hing one could do.  .  .  .  To invite t he
gods r uins o ur r elationship w ith t hem b ut s ets hi story in m otion” (R C
387). And, just as the gods banish us f rom their table, as though we had
served them a t antalizing stew of godly Pelops, s o do w e humans banish
Geschlecht II: Heidegger’s Singular Hand 49
the animals—the other animals—from ours, un less t hose animals b e our

meal. Such b anishment is a lways pronounced in “ our” idiom, a l anguage
that the excluded others do not share, and with such exclusions, as Calasso
notes a nd a s S tephen D edalus w ould co ncur, t he nig htmare o f hi story
commences. Fic hte (f ollowed in t his r espect b y H eidegger) es chews t he
Latinate w ords f or Menschheit and Menschlichkeit, principally t he w ord
Humanität, which offends the German ear and insults the mother tongue;
furthermore, as Fichte add s, it e ven t hreatens t he G erman n ation’s “ethi‑
cal [o r a t le ast i ts c ustomary a nd p roper] wa y o f t hinking,” i ts sittliche
Denkart (419/29). It i s a s t hough t he les sons le arned f rom G ibbon’s His
tory of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, if not from an endless
string o f H ollywood ep ics, a re a lways a lready in p lace: n o o ne s hould
sich tun zu a de cadent R oman f east a nd i ts wa yward L atin. A s t he v ery
word animal suggests, these southerly peoples have no Seele and no Geist
to s peak o f. Thus, in Fic hte’s di scourse e veryone i s in vited t o t he t able,
all t he li ke‑minded f rom a ll acr oss t he g lobe, b ut t he in vited d are n ot
neglect to read the ἀne print on the invitation, which contains something
like an RSVP, “ Do p lease respond,” b ut a lways a nd in evitably in unserer
Sprache, bitte schön.
For its part, the skilled and hospitably extended hand—in the singu‑
lar—is one of the classic signs of the metaphysically conceived Geschlecht
we call humanity, especially the humanity that is eager to oppose itself to
animality. The opposable thumb we take to be in opposition to everything
else that lives.
Derrida offers a c lose reading of Heidegger’s complacent and some‑
times mystifying remarks concerning the hand in Was heisst Denken? This
was the ἀrst lecture course taught by Heidegger after the prohibition insti‑
tuted by the French occupying powers in 1945 wa s lifted. Precisely at that
time H eidegger wa s def ending him self a gainst t he c harge o f N azism b y
arguing that he opposed as strongly as he could the biologism of National
Socialist ideology. Derrida both accepts that plea and poses critical ques‑
tions concerning Heidegger’s care and concern where matters “biological”
are co ncerned—for exa mple, in hi s v iew o f t he h and, t he h and o f m an.
The hand is crucial to Heidegger’s thought throughout his career, from
the Zuhandenheit and Vorhandenheit of Being and Time to t he h and o f
handicraft in What Is Called Thinking? In the second part of Geschlecht II,
Derrida t akes up s ome familiar t hemes of the hand: the h and, here cited
always (w ith b ut o ne ex ception) in t he sin gular, a s t hough t he left and
the r ight w ere o ne, i s w ielded a s a n a mulet a gainst di spersion a bove a ll,
including “organic di spersion.” The sin gular h and s erves a s t he g iver o f
signs (Zeichen); that hand is demonstrative, sometimes remonstrative. The

potential monstrosity of t he h and i s o riginally a m onstration, a p ointing
and showing. The hand essentially enacts a giving rather than a taking: if
the two hands s eize a nd g rasp ( greifen, begreifen, Begriff) a fter t he m an‑
ner o f Hegel, t he h and o f Heidegger i s t hat w hich s hows a nd g rants. A s
the clouds are the clouds of the sky, so the hand is the hand o f being.
The h and g ives t he sig n o f h uman ex ceptionalism. E ven if t he sig n i s
unread, deutungslos, as Hölderlin says in one version of a late poem called
among other things “Mnemosyne” (CHV 1:436), the hand sig nals and
thus g ives u s to k now. On e h and reaches out to g rasp another in s aluta‑
tion, add s Heidegger. A nd e ven w hen I a m s olitary my t wo h ands (h ere
is the exception) may fold together into one in order to join the great
unifold. The way t wo h ands fold into one, a s in D ürer’s famous drawing
of praying hands, suggests the onefold as such: Heidegger’s Trakl essay of
1953 will soon speak of the ἀrst stroke of sexuality, the felicitous coinage
of man and woman, as die einfältige Zwiefalt, the uniἀed or onefold two‑
fold, or the twofold that is always folding back into one. In that particular
phrase, einfältig will n ot h ave t he u sual co lloquial s ense o f “ simple” o r
even “simpleminded,” but will refer to the gathering into a uni ty that the
ἀrst stroke of Geschlecht promises even as it creates the twofold. The sign
of s uch a p romise w ould b e t he f olded h and(s). The fa mily t hat p rays
together stays together.
Yet do es o ne m ake lo ve w ith o ne h and o r w ith t wo? A j ejune a nd
wayward question, perhaps. Derrida raises it more than once with a v iew
to t he guidin g q uestion o f hi s ini tial Geschlecht. W hy, if t he h and i s t he
giver, does Heidegger fa il to mention the g iving o f Hingabe or Hingeb
ung, the wa y o ne g ives o neself o ver in lo ve? H ands a nd f eet a nd b lood
and ouns all given over in Hingebung—why does Heidegger not mention
lovemaking or sexual difference at all with regard to the hand(s)? Would
differences among the hands, notably among the caressing hands of men
and women, be merely ontic contingencies having no ontological import,
and demonstrably so? Would such differences never attain to, never even
graze, t he o ntological r ealm, w hich i s t he os tensible, os tensive r ealm o f
“the” hand? Are the two hands omitted because they might be reminiscent
of the two feet? Yet why should Heidegger, the thinker of the way or the
path of thinking, scorn the feet? These are some of the questions raised
by this second generation of Geschlecht. The question of the loving hands,
and of t heir absence from Heidegger’s Trakl essay, will b ecome a crucial
question for Derrida.
Heidegger’s p rivileging o f t he sin gular h and o f m an i s en tirely in

sympathy with a long metaphysical tradition. For example, Thomas Aqui‑
nas s ays of m an t hat “h e h as reason a nd t he h and,” t he l atter deἀn ed by
Aristotle as t he “tool of t ools.”1 The erect posture of t he human b eing,
which is how the Creator made him, in his own erect and alert image,
as i t w ere, li berates t he h and f rom t he p osition o f t he f orepaws o f a ni‑
mals. If human beings were prone and walked on all fours, their hands
would lo ng a go h ave b ecome p edestrian a nd t he utilitas manuum, here
in the plural, would have been lost. If the hands were mere forepaws, the
human b eing w ould h ave t o s eize i ts f ood w ith i ts m outh. The h uman
head, a s a co nsequence, w ould b e o blong in s hape a long t he h orizontal
axis, w ith i ts sn out ext ended f or co nvenient f oraging, a s w ith dogs a nd
pigs. The lips and tongue would b e coarse, “lest they b e wounded by the
world outside.” This coarsening of lips and tongue would in t urn impede
speech. And speech is, as Aquinas assures us, “the proper work of reason.”
Without entering into the details of this Aristotelian‑Scholastic account of
the hand of man and all its consequences for speech and thought, Derrida
demonstrates q uite c learly t he uni ty—within m etaphysical t hinking—of
gesturing hand, speaking mouth, and reasoning brain. Speech and thought
require the singular hand(s) of man. One recalls the detailed analyses
of t he w riting h and in t he s econd h alf o f t he Grammatology (II 4), t he
writing h and o f t he erstwhile boustrophedonic scrivener who, a greeing
to t he co mpromise o f h and a nd e ye, r ecords t races o f a v oice t hat h ears
and understands itself while speaking.
Derrida p ays s pecial a ttention t o t he writing hand o f H eidegger,
often displayed in photographs of the Schwarzwald thinker, or the hand
that h olds t he wa lking s tick, i tself n ot s o m uch a n a id t o t he f eet a s a
pointer, o r t he h and t hat c arries a p ail o f wa ter f rom t he n earby t rough
to t he Hütte. The h and, t ool o f t ools, i s t he o rgan o f t he a rtisan, o f t he
Schreiner or cabinetmaker, says Heidegger in What Is Called Thinking? The
handworker, der Handwerker, is a craftsman to the extent that he responds
to shapes and forces that are already sleeping in the wood; the handworker
ministers t o t hose s hapes, r esponds in hi s e very m aneuvering t o t hose
forces, a nd s uch mini stration i s t he m odel f or a ll thinking. The m odel i s
apt, a t le ast if thinking is a c ultivating, a nd c ultivating a p rerequisite o f
1. Thomas Aquinas, Summa theologiae, prima pars, q. 91, a. 3. S ee m y di scussion in c hapter 4
of AT, esp. 149–53.
the dwelling of mortals—Bauen Wohnen Denken, without punctuation, as

though f orming o ne w ord, t he g esture o f a sin gle h and. To b e s ure, t he
hand belongs to a b ody, a human body, so that the question of Geschlecht
is never remote from the matters under discussion. Yet Heidegger’s body
is t hat o f a t hinker a nd a w riter, t he b ody o f a n a uthorial a rtisan w ho
harks back to a t ime prior to the contaminations of the hand introduced
by technology and capital.
Heidegger, t he de clared en emy o f biologism, is n onetheless q uick
to den y s uch a h and t o t he a pes. W hat di sturbs D errida in t his r egard
is the way Heidegger e levates his ignorance of all things t ouching the
primates into a calm, self‑assured claim about who has hands and who
does n ot. This non‑savoir érigé en savoir tranquille (428/41) i s r eminis‑
cent—although Derrida does not say so—of Kant’s transcendently bizarre
empirical o bservations (a ll o f t hem s econdhand) co ncerning race in hi s
lessons o n Geography. Heidegger i s p repared t o k eep t he o ntic p reoccu‑
pations of the natural sciences at bay, if only because the sciences are in
service to the tyrannical essence of technology, and yet he feels conἀdent
that he can make a “commonsensical” assertion about the “organs for
grasping” t hat di stinguish t he a pe f rom a h andy homo sapiens sapiens.
No do ubt, s omewhere a long t he wa y, o ur Gymanasium or hig h s chool
teachers offered a convincing demonstration of that opposable thumb
cited a w hile b ack. On e w onders n evertheless w hether t he c apacity o f
the a pe t o g rasp b ranches w ith i ts f eet, w hich en ables i t t o b e s o s ecure
in its network of trees, as though its feet were a second set of dexterous
and adroit hands, is what causes the human being to be so envious. Birds
have wings, while apes have hands and feet that enable them to fly among
the trees. And we grounded ones? We grasp the p en with our prehensile
organ, left or right, and, without thinking overmuch, take our revenge.
Before we turn to Derrida’s account of Heidegger’s spirited defense
of handwriting, as opposed to typewriting, or what we today call, impos‑
sibly, horrendously, “keyboarding,” I wa nt to enter a p ersonal remark or
two, b egging t he r eader’s f orbearance. I m yself, w hen w riting a bout m y
work s essions w ith H eidegger in t he e arly 1970s, p aid s pecial a ttention
to hi s h ands, a nd es pecially hi s w riting h and, t he r ight. I f I r emember
well, I admir ed him—a t a ge eig hty‑five—for b oth hi s h andwriting a nd
his w riting p osture.2 D errida’s a nalysis o f H eidegger’s f etishism o f t he
2. See “Work Sessions with Martin Heidegger,” Philosophy Today XXVI, no. 2 (Summer 1982):
126–38. I a lso co nfess t o h aving p aid c lose attention t o D errida’s h ands. S ee K rell, “ The Hands
of the Man,” The Oxford Literary Review, “A Decade After Derrida,” 36:2 (2014), 223–25.
pen (h e does not call it that, b ut he co mes close) is an embarrassment

to m e, es pecially sin ce e verything I h ave e ver w ritten, w ith t he ex cep‑
tion of memos to deans, has ἀrst been written by hand. Especially in
the w riting o f ἀc tion I ἀn d t hat t he h eel o f m y h and, t he r ight, a lone
can t ell t he s tory in t he wa y a nd a t t he s peed i t wa nts t o b e t old. E ven
the t ranslations I h ave do ne, w hich a mount t o s everal t housand p ages
of t ext, w ere h andwritten; t hey w ent t hrough a t le ast t hree s tages o f
emendation and correction b efore I t yped or “keyboarded” them onto a
machine. Perhaps I never got over Gore Vidal’s slighting remark concerning
Norman Mailer, “Norman doesn’t write; he types.” (This is the sort of remark
that e arned Vidal a b lack e ye, a nd p recisely at t he sin gular h and, o r ἀ st, o f
Norman Mailer. Vidal’s comment to reporters concerning the incident: “You
have t o un derstand, i t i s s o difficult t o b e N orman.”) I t i s a w onder t o m e
that D errida w rites s o w ell, in asmuch a s o nly hi s p ostcards a nd let ters, t o
the c hagrin o f t he r ecipients, w ere h andwritten. A nd y et a s t he Envois of
La Carte postale confess, t he w riter’s lo ve o f t he v oice a nd o f t he in timate
presence promised by t he v oice, i s h ardly a bsent in D errida. Perhaps, t hen,
he i s n ot a ll t hat r emote f rom a s ecret lo ve o f h andwriting. A fter a ll, i t i s
difficult to type postcards from Socrates to Freud and beyond. Enough. Back
to the business of the singular hand.3
After le arning f rom J ohn Sa llis o f H eidegger’s r emarks in hi s P ar‑
menides lecture co urse of 1942–43 co ncerning t he v irtues o f h andwrit‑
ing, a s o pposed to typing, Derrida lends his incomparable skills to an
analysis of these remarks. Heidegger’s passionate asseverations are some‑
what surprising, and somewhat Luddite, in v iew of the fact that one still
uses o ne’s h ands w hen t yping o r k eyboarding. P erhaps t he p roblem i s
that one uses both left and right, again as though they were feet? In any
case, it i s difficult t o s ee w hy Heidegger s hould o bject t o t he t ypewriter
or co mputer a s o ne a spect o f w hat Being and Time calls Zeug, indeed,
Schreibzeug (SZ 68). On e w ould h ave t hought t hat t he t ypewriter co uld
serve a s a n emin ent exa mple o f Zuhandenheit, one t hat r esists t he s hift
to Vorhandenheit, at le ast un til t he s cientist’s o r p hilosopher’s m achine
3. Benoît P eeters r eveals w hat I s ecretly a lways k new, o f co urse, e ven t hough D errida n ever
admitted i t t o m e, w hich i s t hat a t le ast in hi s e arly d ays h e w rote b y h and. D uring t he e arly
1960s, Peeters t ells u s, writing was an a ffair o f great g ravity f or Derrida, and i t h ad t o be do ne
by hand. Not only that. Peeters cites Derrida’s confession (PM 152–53) that not even a ballpoint
sufficed; no, it had to be a f ountain pen, perhaps of the kind we see in t he photos of Heidegger,
or e ven a c alligraphic p en, w ell‑nigh a plume or q uill, w hich D errida di pped in in k, s ketching
endless versions of a text before committing a version of it to his “little Olivetti.” See BP 169.
breaks down, or until Claes Oldenburg creates his hysteria‑inducing “Soft

Typewriter.” Derrida mentions that Nietzsche was the ἀrst philosopher to
type, but he neglects to mention that Nietzsche too hated the typewriter:
the k eys k ept o n s ticking, t he t hing n ever w orked p roperly, a nd n o o ne
was e ver a ble t o repair it t o hi s s atisfaction. Yet a s ticky key i s n ot Hei‑
degger’s p roblem. H eidegger’s p roblem m ay in deed h ave t o do w ith t he
two “h ands” a s o pposed t o “ the” h and. D errida ci tes (434/46) a p hrase
from t he Parmenides le ctures (54:118) t hat i s quite t elling: “ The human
being do es n ot ‘h ave’ h ands; ra ther, t he h and r etains [ hat . . . inne] t he
essence o f t he h uman b eing.” Heidegger g oes o n t o s ay t hat t he s poken
word shows beings (zeigt), while the written word inscribes (einzeichnet)
the showing. Yet it does so as handwriting, Handschrift. Saying, s how‑
ing, and handwriting are therefore intimately related. What is happening
today, s ays Heidegger, w ith t he prevalence o f a ll s orts o f p rocedures f or
mechanical reproduction (Heidegger does not mention Benjamin), is that
the art of handwriting is dying. Indeed, we live in a t ime of “the destruc‑
tion of t he word” (54:119). Ceci tuera cela, Heidegger would s ay, if o nly
in German, as he points to the typed word as opposed to the handwritten
text. Using fairly v iolent l anguage, Heidegger a sserts t hat t he t ypewriter
“tears writing away f rom the essential domain of the hand, that is, f rom
the w ord a nd s peech” (i bid.) The w riting m achine t herefore “degrades”
word a nd s peech, a s a ny m etaphysician, s uch a s Thomas A quinas o r
Fichte, would have been able to see. When everything is typewritten, all
human beings become an indistinguishable and undistinguished mass.
The only t hing t hat could restore t heir individuality would b e t he hand,
the singular writing hand, which, and here one must cite Heidegger’s text
as Derrida does, “zeigt und zeigend zeichnet und zeichnend die zeigenden
Zeichen zu Gebilden bildet,” “[the hand] shows and, showing, draws and,
drawing, forms into forms the signs that show,” or “shapes the signs that
show in to im ages” (54:126; P s 435/47). These dra wn f orms o r im ages,
he add s, in w ords t hat h ave t o s trike a c hord w ith t he a uthor o f De
la grammatologie, “are c alled, in acco rd w ith t he ‘Verbum’ γράφειν, t he
γράµµατα” (ibid.). Thus writing is essentially handwriting, the inscription
of a g rammatological v oice, e ven p resumably w hen a G reek a rchitect,
using b oth h ands, c hisels a n ame o nto a lin tel. D errida, w ithout r evert‑
ing in any detail to the analyses of the second half of the Grammatology,
notes t hat w hat H eidegger i s s aying h ere i s t rue o nly o f t he sys tem o f
phonetic writing: the proximity of word, monstration, inscription, and the
shaped letter has its home in the voice that hears and understands itself
while s peaking. H eidegger o f co urse do es n ot b reathe a w ord o f t his.
Otherwise, the intimacy of silent voice, hand, showing, and (the writing
of) the revealing of being would be disturbed once and for all. And yet,
as D errida in dicates, H eidegger’s a pparent a ppreciation o f w riting ἀ ts
in p erfectly w ell w ith t he t radition D errida h as c alled logocentric an d
phonocentric. The a pparent ce lebration o f m anuscripture h as t o b e s een
in the lig ht of w hat Heidegger will s ay later in What Is Called Thinking?
concerning “ pure” t hinking: S ocrates i s t he p urest t hinker o f t he West
because he wrote nothing, that is, because he held out in t he stormwind
of thinking and did not, like Plato and countless others to come, resort
to “li terature” (W hD? 5, 52). The es sential gathering performed b y t he
hand o ccurs n ot a s a g leaning a nd ga thering in t he s ense o f writing;
rather, i t o ccurs a s t he Brauch about w hich H eidegger w rites in “ The
Anaximander F ragment.” I f Brauch may t ranslate τ ὸ χ ρεών, “ Necessity,”
the Greek w ord itself having been f ormed from ἡ χ είρ, “the hand,” that
is b ecause Brauch i s t he “ need” a nd “ usage” t hat H eidegger a lways a nd
everywhere calls Versammlung, “gathering.” Such necessitous “gathering”
of t he h and, w hich o ccurs in a nd a s thinking, t hinking a nd questioning,
and n ot a s w hat H eidegger der ides as Geschreibe, “scribbling,” is a t the
critical center of the entire Geschlecht series.
I cannot retire from the ἀeld of “the hand,” however, without noting
an oversight of Derrida’s, which is also an oversight of my own. He says,
in both the second and third Geschlecht articles and elsewhere as well, that
Heidegger fails in any of his works to make “the barest allusion” to the
two h ands o f h uman b eings. This i s, o f co urse, n ot t he c ase, a s William
McNeill has demonstrated.4 An early reference, in section 25 of Heidegger’s
Prolegomena to the History of the Concept of Time (20:319–20), i s i tself
quite r emarkable. There H eidegger s tates, “ There i s n o h and in g eneral
[keine Hand überhaupt],” but only either the left or the right, both hands
always a lready o riented a nd es sentially k inesthetic. The o ther r eference,
in Being and Time, section 23, “The Spatiality of Being‑in‑the‑world,” is
4. See W illiam M cNeill, “ Spirit’s L iving H and,” in Of Derrida, Heidegger, and Spirit, ed. D avid
Wood (Evanston: N orthwestern U niversity P ress, 1993), c h. 7. S ee a lso D L, 255–56, 327n. 19,
and 345n. 1. I n t he t ypescript t hat s erves a s t he ini tial b asis f or Geschlecht III, Derrida a sserts
once a gain t hat Heidegger m akes n o reference t o t he t wo h ands, or t o t he t wo g loves of Kant’s
“orientation” es say. At t hat p oint in t he m argins I w rote, “ But o f co urse h e h as: s ee s ection 23
of Sein und Zeit on ‘Sich orientieren im D enken.’ ” But this note is in r ed ink in m y photocopy,
indicating t hat I h ad s ent t he co py t o D errida w ithout t he in dication—a do uble fa ult o n m y
part: (1) I fa iled t o wa rn D errida a bout t he o versight, a nd (2) I m yself wa s gui lty o f t he s ame
oversight until Will McNeill informed me of it.
one t hat D errida m ust h ave k nown a bout a t s ome p oint, in asmuch a s
he ci tes f rom t his s ection t he i talicized p hrase, “In Dasein there lies an
essential tendency toward nearness” (SZ 105). A s fa miliar a s h e wa s w ith
Heidegger’s n otion of “un‑distancing,” and a s cr itical a s h e wa s concern‑
ing a ll s uch in stances o f “proximity” in H eidegger, a nd a s fa miliar a s h e
also was with Kant’s essay on “orientation” in thinking, Derrida neverthe‑
less n eglects Heidegger’s di scussion of t he t wo h ands, left and r ight, a nd
Kant’s treatment of those hands. The ἀrst aspect of section 23 that catches
our attention is Heidegger’s insistence that remoteness and nearness are
measured—at least in our everyday dealings with things or items of equip‑
ment—not o n t he b asis o f a C artesian o r Ga lilean g rid; ra ther, h e s ays,
“what is ‘closest’ lies at a di stance determined by the average scope of our
seeing, r eaching, a nd g rasping [ in einer durchschnittlichen Reich-, Greif-
und Blickweite]” (SZ 107). A pparently the Dasein that espies things, then
reaches out and grasps things, does have organs that can extend and take
hold. Greifweite could surely be said to have existential signiἀcance, even
for o ne w ho s pends a g reat de al o f t ime s eated a t a w riting t able. F ur‑
thermore, H eidegger’s des cription o f t he s patiality o f D asein len ds i tself
to a m uch wider clientele than the human: primates certainly view, reach
out, a nd g rasp; mice m ay le arn t hat c ats t oo h ave a n a mazing c apacity
in t his regard; e ven t he ants t hat ἀn d t heir way to my improperly closed
honey j ar s eem t o k now a bout Ent‑fernung. As i s s o o ften t he c ase w ith
existential s tructures, t he s patiality o f D asein do es n ot a ppear t o b e t he
exclusive property of humankind. Would it not be a revelation if we were
to b ase o ur b iological r esearch in to va rious f orms o f a nimal m ovement
and b ehavior p recisely o n t he “existentials” e laborated b y H eidegger? I t
simply do es n ot m atter t hat h e w ould r end hi s ga rments u pon le arning
of this. He would in any case have to use both hands in order to do so.
Virtually e very exa mple o f “closeness,” f or exa mple, t he p roximity
of t he g lasses t hat si t o n o ur n ose b ut w hich a re s o fa r a way f rom o ur
viewing that we often lose sight of them, and indeed lose them altogether,
precisely b ecause t hey a re a s c lose a s t he n ose o n o ur face , b egs f or a n
expansion o f t he s cope o f t he exa mple. On e m ust a lways h eed t he dif ‑
ferences, o f co urse, a nd n ot p ut s unglasses o n t he p oochie s o t hat w e
can t ake a der isory sn apshot. We wa lk do wn t he s treet, s ays H eidegger,
and w hat co uld b e “closer” t han t he p avement un der o ur f ootsoles? Yet
the neighbor who i s twenty p aces a head i s “closer” to D asein t han t he
pavement. P hilosophers, s ays H eidegger, m ust ce ase t hinking o f h uman
beings’ o rienting themselves as “ego‑things trapped in a body.” Yet i s it
not equally important to stop regarding other life forms as bodies trapped
in the mind‑games of the researcher? To the possum who descends from

the t rees t he n eighbor i s a lso c loser t han t he p avement un der t he p ads
of its feet.
The f undamental p oint of s ection 23 o f Being and Time is t hat our
orientation in t he w orld h as t o do w ith o ur projects, n ot w ith a g eo‑
metric g rid of di stances w e h ave t o “cross.” Heidegger concedes t hat our
“embodiment,” or “Leiblichkeit,” is essential to orientation, as long as those
scare q uotes r emind u s t hat t he b ody i s n o Körperding, no “ bodything,”
but an existence. Yet di scussion o f t he s patiality o f t he h uman b ody i s
not germane to the fundamental ontology of Dasein, Heidegger says (SZ
108), e ven if i t do es “ conceal” a p roblematic a ll i ts o wn. O ur em bodi‑
ment r equires t hat h andy i tems u sed b y a nd f or t he b ody, “such a s, f or
example, gloves,” which are meant to be “coordinated with the movements
performed by the hands [das die Bewegungen der Hände mitmachen soll],
are oriented according to left and right” (ibid.). Most tools, says Heidegger,
forgetting f or t he m oment a bout s cissors (a t le ast o f t he o ld‑fashioned
design), do n ot h ave t o b e o riented in s uch a wa y, e ven t hough t hey
are m eant t o b e h andy. I t i s h ere t hat H eidegger t akes u p K ant’s “ Was
heisst: S ich im D enken o rientieren? ” H is r esponse t o K ant (SZ 109–10)
need not detain us here, although it is interesting to note that Heidegger
grants K ant’s in sight in to the possibility of o rientation a s a n ontological
problem—even t hough K ant him self s oon co llapses t he o ntological in to
a psy chological p roblem, t hat o f t he “ subjective p rinciple” o f m emory.
What n eeds to det ain u s, a s it det ains D errida, i s t he p ossibility t hat t he
spatiality, un‑distancing, a nd o rientation o f a n em bodied D asein in t he
world may not be so readily restricted to the being that Heidegger wants
to privilege. There is a homo habilis that survives in e very child born and
in every adult—even in adults who carry pails of water or point with canes
or in struct o thers w ith t heir p ens. On e m ore w ord a bout t hose g loves,
the left and t he r ight: in G erman t hey a re c alled Handschuhe—shoes f or
the hand. Or, better, for the hands.
As we turn to the second of the two divisions of Geschlecht II, we
ἀnd o urselves p repared t o f orgive D errida’s o versight, es pecially b ecause
it is a s hared oversight. For, indeed, the Heidegger of Was heisst Denken?
and m any o ther t exts i s dem onstrably sin glehanded. D errida b egins t his
section by stressing the gendered nature—in both French and German—
of the hand of man, la main de l’homme. Such gendering is a m atter that
he w ill s tress a lso d uring t he ἀr st y ear o f hi s ἀn al s eminar, La bête et le
souverain, in w hich w e h ear him o pening t he v ery ἀr st s ession w ith a
kind o f sin gsong r epetition o f t he deἀni te a rticles, la and le—as t hough
that w ere lo ve’s o ld sw eet s ong, sin ging o f t he b east (f eminine) a nd t he

sovereign (m asculine). I n t he p resent in stance i t i s a m atter o f la main
de l’homme, once again la, le, with the singularity of the hand (feminine)
hoping perhaps to accent this essential mark of the human, des Menschen
(masculine). Die Hand is the feminine noun that makes the man, provided
“man” be the collective noun. Derrida continues:
[Y]ou will certainly have noticed that Heidegger not only thinks
the h and a s a v ery sin gular t hing t hat r ightfully b elongs only
to m an. H e a lso a lways t hinks t he h and in the singular, as if
man did n ot have two hands but, this monster, a sin gle hand.
Not a single organ in the middle of his body, like the Cyclops
who h ad a sin gle e ye in t he midd le of hi s f orehead, a lthough
this representation, which leaves something to be desired, also
gives one to think. (Ps 438/49–50)
The Cyclopic eye and hand, in the singular, would be demonstrative, hence
monstrous, and w ould leave one m ore h and—presumably, the caressing
hand—to be desired. If the two hands make love, two or four, the singu‑
lar hand s ometimes s eems to come down hard. One t hinks of t he raised
right hand of the Judge, Pantocrator, in Michelangelo’s Last Judgment,
the h and f eared a s m uch b y t he B lessed a s b y t he D amned. On e t hinks
too o f t hat a stonishing s culptured f ountain t ucked in to a co rner o f t he
Luxembourg Ga rdens w here lo vers t ry t o hide , w hich h as a s i ts t heme
Polyphemus spying on Galatea.5
Derrida n ow p resents t he t wo p oles o f t he m agnetic ἀe ld t hat w ill
dominate t his p articular Geschlecht, that o f t he “organic di spersion” in to
two hands, which Heidegger seems to fear, and the folding of two hands
into o ne, t hat i s, in to t he g estures o f p ointing, sig nifying, p raying, a nd
gathering. What Heidegger appears to be avoiding are the hands that
5. Auguste O ttin desig ned t wo different s culptures, t he m arble g roup o f t he lo vers A cis a nd
Galatée, h aunted b y a m enacing P olyphème in b ronze o verhead. On t he s ame t heme, s ee
the b eautifully desig ned co ver o f J onathan F. K rell, The Ogre’s Progress: Images of the Ogre in
Modern and Contemporary French Fiction (Newark: University of D elaware P ress, 2009), w hich
reproduces G ustave M oreau’s “ Galatea.” M oreau g rants P olyphemus t hree e yes, t wo b rooding
“human” e yes a nd o ne ga ping m onstrous o ne. The g iant og re r ests hi s b rooding h ead o n o ne
hand as that singular eye gapes. See also, within the covers, Jonathan Krell’s discussion of Michel
Tournier’s T iffauges (85), t he h ero o f Le roi des aulnes, who iden tiἀes him self (a s “deep‑eyed,”
tiefäugig) t hrough t he Polyphemic single eye of his single reflex camera, w hich roams w herever
and devours whomever it will.
desire a nd t hat mig ht c aress, t he h ands t hat o ne mig ht h ave t hought

essential to our Geschlecht.
Two exp licit r eferences t o Geschlecht III appear in t he s econd p art
of Geschlecht II, with w hich w e a re n ow en gaged. The s econd o ccurs
very n ear t he en d o f t he es say, a nd w e w ill exa mine i t l ater. I n t he ἀr st
reference, a ppearing w ithin s quare b rackets o n p ages 439–40/51 o f Psy
ché, Derrida n otes t hat hi s q uestion co ncerning t he (mi ssing) c aress o f
lovemaking, of the desiring hands, as it were, ought to guide him t oward
the word Geschlecht, which h e promises t o t ake up in a nother t ext. D er‑
rida says, “I will not give this part of my lecture, which should have been
entitled Geschlecht III, and w hose (t yped) m anuscript h as b een p hoto‑
copied a nd di stributed t o s ome o f y ou s o t hat a di scussion o f i t mig ht
be p ossible. I w ill conἀne myself then to a c ursory sketch of it.” We may
expect, t herefore, t hat t he f ollowing p aragraphs o f Geschlecht II ought
to contain much o f the substance of Geschlecht III, or at least of those
thirty‑three t yped, p hotocopied, a nd di stributed p ages. We w ill t ake u p
these anticipations of or exp ectations concerning t he t hird generation of
Geschlecht in later chapters (namely, 5 and 6) of the present book; here we
will merely observe, by way of introduction, that the themes that magne‑
tize Derrida are (1) the problem of the “site” of Heidegger’s “placement” of
Trakl’s p oetry, t he Ort and Ortschaft of his Erörterung, and (2) t he prob‑
lem of the Schlag, better, the two Schläge, that form the root of the word
Geschlecht, the ἀr st gu aranteeing a m ore g entle unif old f or t he t wofold
of the sexes, the second (albeit n ot necessarily “chronologically” second)
introducing di scord a nd di ssension—die Zwietracht, as o pposed t o das
Zwiefache—into binary sexuality. In Heidegger’s view, there is in Trakl’s
poem—he has but one, says Heidegger, his poem being as singular as his
writing hand, even if t hat poem seems to disperse into multiple poems—
something that promises to restore unity and accord to the sexes, so that
the t wo di scordant s exes w ill b ecome a n em phatic “ one Geschlecht,” the
“Ein Geschlecht” o f T rakl’s “ Western S ong,” Abendländisches Lied. (See
Appendix A.)
Perhaps t he v ery ἀr st a spect o f D errida’s r eading o f H eidegger’s
interpretation of Trakl that has to be mentioned is Derrida’s appreciation
of idiom, that is to say, of the difficulty—if not impossibility—of discussing
Heidegger’s reading in F rench or in En glish. Geschlecht II, to repeat, was
ἀrst presented as a le cture in C hicago, although the text had been written
in F rench b efore i t wa s r endered (b y J ohn P. L eavey J r.) in to A merican
English. As we shall see, Derrida shows that, on the one hand, Heidegger’s
perpetual a ppeal t o “our l anguage,” w hich u sually m eans O ld o r M iddle
High G erman, t ends t o limi t hi s p erspective in t roubling wa ys, w hile,

on t he o ther h and, t here s eem t o b e m any t hings—Geschlecht among
them—that absolutely resist translation into any other national idiom. The
result is a genuine predicament: “I knew I would have to speak in English
the t ext I wa s w riting in F rench o n a nother I wa s r eading in G erman,”
confesses D errida (441/302). N owhere, h owever, w ill ei ther D errida o r
Heidegger m ention a n ational difference t hat s hould n ot b e f orgotten:
Trakl was not German at all but Austrian, a co ntemporary of Karl Kraus
and Robert Musil, and li ke them he was anything but a pan‑Germanist.
Only t he Germanist gifted w ith t he ἀn est s et of e ars w ill b e a ble t o h ear
the Austrian idiom in T rakl, no doubt, and yet it would b e incautious to
suppose t hat t he idio m i s n ot t here. A fter 1939, i t w ould b e, p olitically
speaking, a reprehensible ignorance. In any case, Derrida and I, and now
the reader, will have enough to worry about with English, French, and all
the phases and places of High German.
The p rincipal w orry f or D errida in volves t he i ssue o f p olysemy, o r
what H eidegger c alls Mehrdeutigkeit, not “ ambiguity” b ut t he m ultiple
meanings of words. In Was heisst Denken? Heidegger cites as the principal
danger f or t hinking in o ur t ime w hat h e c alls Eingleisdenken, “one‑track
thinking.” H e a ssociates t his w ith t he p redominance o f t echnology a nd
calculative thinking in o ur time, and he would be chagrined to ἀnd him‑
self accused of it. Derrida comes close to making such an accusation, for
it s eems t o him t hat H eidegger a lways m anages t o gather the m ultiple
meanings o f T rakl’s exp ressions s o t hat t hey s eem t o y ield a uni vocal
sense. Indeed, Heidegger equates the opposite of gathering, namely, what
Derrida would call dissemination, with bad poetry; the rhymes of a “poet‑
aster,” and a ll m ere “ versifying,” a re s omething n o great poet w ould e ver
do. Yet a t w hat p oint do es t he ga thering o f m ultiple m eanings in to o ne
become one‑track t hinking? Might not Versammlung, gathering, itself b e
the name of a single‑track chemin de fer heideggerien?
In this ἀrst explicit reference to a third Geschlecht, Derrida introduc‑
es two p assages f rom Heidegger’s “Die Sprache im Gedicht,” from w hich
he will derive ἀve “foci” or foyers for his questions. These passages appear
at pages 49 a nd 78 o f Unterwegs zur Sprache, and even though we will be
dealing w ith t hem in det ail l ater in t he b ook, i t w ould p erhaps b ehoove
us t o p resent t hem h ere, ἀr st in G erman, t hen in a n En glish r endering,
setting a side f or t he m oment a ll o f D errida’s q uestions a nd co mments.
The ἀr st p assage, b eginning w ith a r eference t o T rakl’s “Autumn S oul,”
refers t o t he p oet’s a bandonment o f t he p ersons h e lo ves, “ the o thers.”
Heidegger identiἀes—problematically, as we will see—these “others” with
what he calls der Schlag der verwesten Gestalt des Menschen, “the coinage
of t he de composed ἀgur e o f m an.” Heidegger co ntinues, introducing f or
the ἀrst time the word Geschlecht into his essay (US 49–50):
Unsere S prache n ennt d as a us ein em S chlag g eprägte un d in

diesen S chlag v erschlagene Menschenwesen d as “Geschlecht.”
Das Wort b edeutet s owohl d as Menschengeschlecht im S inne
der Menschheit, als auch die Geschlechter im Sinne der Stämme,
Sippen und Familien, dies alles wiederum geprägt in das Zwie‑
fache der Geschlechter. Das Geschlecht der “verwesten Gestalt”
des Menschen nennt der Dichter das “verwesende” Geschlecht.
Es ist aus der A rt seines Wesens herausgesetzt und darum das
“entsetzte” Geschlecht.
Womit ist dieses Geschlecht geschlagen, d. h. verflucht?
Fluch heißt griechisch πλήγη, unser Wort “Schlag.” Der Fluch
des v erwesenden G eschlechtes b esteht d arin, d aß dies es a lte
Geschlecht in die Z wietracht der G eschlechter auseinanderge‑
schlagen i st. A us i hr t rachtet j edes der G eschlechter in den
losgelassenen Aufruhr der je vereinzelten und bloßen Wildheit
des Wildes. Nicht das Zwiefache als solches, sondern die Zwie
tracht i st der Fl uch. S ie t rägt a us dem A ufruhr der b linden
Wildheit das Geschlecht in die Entzweiung und verschlägt es so
in die losgelassene Vereinzelung. Also entzweit und zerschlagen
vermag das “verfallene Geschlecht” von sich aus nicht mehr in
den rechten Schlag zu ἀn den. Den rechten Schlag aber hat es
nur mit jenem Geschlecht, dessen Zwiefaches aus der Zwietracht
weg in die Sa nftmut einer einfältigen Zwiefalt vorauswandert,
d. h. ein “Fremdes” ist und dabei dem Fremdling folgt.
Our language names the essence of the human being, which is

struck in a certain coinage and is stamped in t his coinage, the
“Geschlecht.” This word means the human race, in t he sense of
humankind, a nd a lso t he Geschlechter, in t he s ense o f t ribes,
clans, a nd fa milies, a ll o f t his b eing co ined in i ts t urn b y t he
twofold of the Geschlechter. The Geschlecht of the “decomposed
ἀgure” of human beings is called by the poet the “decomposing”
Geschlecht. It i s t he k ind o f Geschlecht t hat h as b een exp elled
from its essence and is therefore the “horriἀed” Geschlecht.
By w hat h as t his Geschlecht been s truck, i .e., c ursed?
Curse, in G reek, i s π λήγη, o ur w ord “ stroke.” The c urse o f
the de composing Geschlecht consists in t he fac t t hat t his o ld

Geschlecht has been severed into the discord of the Geschlechter.
As a result of this discord, each of the Geschlechter struggles
within the un bridled t umult of t he w ildness o f t he a nimal,
individualized and savage. Not the twofold as such, but discord
is the curse. As a result of the tumult of blind savagery, discord
transports the Geschlecht into bifurcation and so banishes it
to un bridled in dividuation. Thus b ifurcated a nd b attered, t he
“fallen Geschlecht” c an o n i ts o wn n o lo nger ἀn d t he wa y
toward its proper coinage. Yet t he only Geschlecht t hat w ould
attain its proper coinage would be the one whose twofold
wanders a head, o n i ts wa y o ut of di scord in to t he g entleness
of a onefold twofold; that means it is something “strange,” and
it thereby follows the stranger.
Heidegger i s n ot k nown f or s traightforward a nd t ransparent s tate‑

ments. Yet i s t here any H eideggerian text as s trange as t his o ne? I t is
strange, and it follows the stranger of Trakl’s poetry. Virtually every aspect
of it is uncanny, at once g randiose and bizarre. In t he present context of
Geschlecht II, Derrida merely lists some of those aspects that he would
like to pursue elsewhere: Schlag and Geschlecht, the “stroke” or “coin‑
age” o f t he h uman race , i ts g enerations, c lans, a nd fa milies, a ll o f t hese
“in t urn” co ined o r s truck b y t he t wo Geschlechter, which n o t ransla‑
tor, whether French or English, can translate otherwise than as “the two
sexes”; die verweste Gestalt des Menschen, the “decomposed” or, more lit‑
erally, “disessenced” ἀgur e o f h umankind; a nd p erhaps m ost m ysterious
of all, the curse of discord between those two Geschlechter whom we can
scarcely avoid c alling t he t wo s exes, t he di scord t hat s tems n ot f rom t he
twofold a s s uch b ut f rom a m ore m ysterious s troke o r b low t hat dr ives
each o f t hem in to un bridled s avagery. The o nly h ope, a nd t his h ope i s
the uncanniest aspect of all, is that a disessenced humankind may wander
ahead, or perhaps back, to a m ore g entle t wofold, a twosome t hat folds
back in to o ne. A bove a ll, D errida w ill wa nt t o k now w hy a nd h ow, b y
what mightiness of essence, the twofold was originally coined, and when
and w hy a n acc ursed s econd s troke b otched t he co inage; m ost o f a ll, h e
will want to know how a “placement” of Georg Trakl’s poem will help the
botched human race to ἀnd its way ahead, or back, to a greater tenderness.
One word more, by way of anticipation, about the onefold two‑
fold, t he t wo f olding b ack into one. E arlier w e referred t o D ürer’s h ands
folded in p rayer a nd t he “great o nefold” in voked b y H eidegger in What
Is Called Thinking? Trakl appears t o invoke s uch h ands in t he l ast o f hi s

“Rosary Hymns,” titled “Amen” (see Appendix B). Perhaps these are the
hands of the surviving members of his family during his father’s funeral.
However, h e n ever s peaks o f t he t wo h ands b ecoming o ne; in stead, t he
hands wölben sich, they form a “vault,” and they do so cryptically, one
must say. Although Derrida does not take pains to note it here, the “fold”
of H eidegger’s o nefold t wofold, le pli, will in trigue him t hroughout t he
seminar t hat o ught t o h ave b ecome Geschlecht III. F or t he pli, in D er‑
rida’s v iew, i s a nything b ut a ἀgur e o f ga thering. R ather, i t i s a ἀgur e o f
the vault or cr ypt. As we w ill s ee in c hapter 6, i t i s an emin ent ἀgur e of
dissémination, a ἀgur e t hat s tands v ery m uch in co ntrast t o H eidegger’s
Mehrdeutigkeit or polysemy.
The s econd p assage co mes f rom t he t hird a nd ἀn al p art o f H ei‑
degger’s t riptych (US 78). H ere H eidegger i s r eading T rakl’s “ Western
Song” and interpreting Trakl’s emphasis there on the one of one Geschlecht.
It is a one that in Heidegger’s view promises a “gathering” of the Geschlecht
er “into the onefold of a more gentle twofold”:
Das “Ein” im Wort “ Ein Geschlecht” m eint nic ht “eins” s tatt

“zwei.” Das “Ein” bedeutet auch nicht das Einerlei einer faden
Gleichheit. D as Wort “ Ein Geschlecht” n ennt hier ü berhaupt
keinen biologischen Tatbestand, weder die “Eingeschlechtlich‑
keit,” noch die “Gleichgeschlechtlichkeit.” In dem betonten “Ein
Geschlecht” v erbirgt sic h j enes Ein ende, d as a us der v ersam‑
melnden Bläue der g eistlichen Nacht einigt. D as Wort spricht
aus dem L ied, w orin d as L and des A bends g esungen w ird.
Demgemäß behält hier das Wort “Geschlecht” seine volle bereits
genannte mehrfältige Bedeutung. Es nennt einmal das geschicht
liche Geschlecht des M enschen, die Menschheit, im Unter‑
schied zum ü brigen Lebendigen (Pflanze und Tier). Das Wort
“Geschlecht” nennt sodann die G eschlechter, Stämme, Sippen,
Familien dieses Menschengeschlechtes. Das Wort “Geschlecht”
nennt zugleich überall die Zwiefalt der Geschlechter.
The “one” in the phrase “one Geschlecht” does not mean “one”
instead of “two.” Nor does the “one” signify a bundle of things
that s hare s ome in sipid iden tity. The p hrase “one Geschlecht”
here does not mean any kind of biological state of affairs,
whether “h aving only one s ex” or “ being of t he s ame s ex.” In
the emphatic “one Geschlecht” there lies concealed the unifying
that unites on the basis of the gathering azure of the spiriting

night. The p hrase s peaks w ithin t he s ong in w hich t he L and
of E vening i s s ung. A ccordingly, t he w ord Geschlecht here
contains t he f ull ra nge o f t he m anifold sig niἀcance w e h ave
indicated. For one t hing, it n ames t he hi storical Geschlecht of
human beings, humankind, in distinction from other life forms
(plant and animal). The word Geschlecht then goes on to name
the generations [Geschlechter], tribes, clans, and families of
this human Geschlecht. At the same time, the word Geschlecht
everywhere names the twofold of the Geschlechter.
Heidegger’s acco unt h ere differs f rom t he e arlier o ne in s everal

respects. This second account begins and ends with references to the plu‑
ral Geschlechter in t he s ense o f t he t wosome, t he t wo g enders o r s exes,
presumably, which when they are uniἀed in Trakl’s sense cannot be merely
“unisex.” T o r epeat, i t i s difficult if n ot im possible t o r ead t he exp res‑
sion Zwiefalt der Geschlechter in a ny wa y o ther t han “the t wofold o f t he
sexes,” ex cept p erhaps in t he lin e t hat r efers t o t ribes a nd c lans, w here
the plural seems to designate multiple “generations.” And so I h ave trans‑
lated it here, Geschlechter as “generations,” indicating the German word in
square brackets. O therwise, t he plural Geschlechter usually, t hat is to s ay,
in t he common parlance of “ our l anguage,” m eans t he s exes. C ertainly
the w ords Eingeschlechtlichkeit and Gleichgeschlechtlichkeit do n ot r efer
to o ne’s b elonging t o a sin gle iden tical “ generation.” D errida in dicates
(444/55) t hat t he F rench t ranslation wa vers b etween t wo t ranslations o f
Geschlechter in the sense of the sexes, the ἀrst, dualité générique des sexes,
explicitly citing the sexes, the second, dédoublement générique, cautiously
avoiding s peciἀc m ention o f t hem w hile m aking i t p lain t hat t hey a re
meant. Along the same lines, in the present passage Heidegger is careful to
exclude “biology,” as he has always done ever since Being and Time. Here
it i s a m atter of a ga thering, Versammlung, portrayed in t erms b orrowed
from Trakl’s poetry: a blueness or azure, Bläue, that appears at eventide in
the Land of Evening, das Abendland, which is the West, the Occident. The
gathering azure, s ays Heidegger, unites and uniἀes. M oreover, Heidegger
here a lters t he r eference t o “h umankind” b y iden tifying i t a s “hi stori‑
cal.” W hat i s t he r elation b etween “h umankind,” co nsidered b eyond a ll
“biology,” y et in t erms o f t he hi story o f t he West? C an t hese t wo m at‑
ters, humanity and the Occident, be conflated? A n umber of nations and
cultures across the globe would object. And the night that is “spiriting,”
geistlich, means w hat? H eidegger w ill p eremptorily di stinguish geistlich
from geistig, insisting that Trakl uses the former word in a wa y that bears
no relation to either Platonistic “ intelligibility” or C hristian “spirituality.”
Derrida w ill w onder w hy H eidegger in sists o n t his s o s trongly, a nd h e
will a sk w hether H eidegger’s in sistence i s in a ny wa y co nvincing. F ur‑
thermore, even after biology has been banished from Heidegger’s reading
of Trakl, why the reference to other life forms, vegetable and animal, if
only to exclude them? What lies behind all these denials and efforts to
exclude? Here t he m ultiple m eanings o f Geschlecht are em phasized o nce
again, even though a “uniting” and “unifying” appear to promise some
ultimate, univocal sense for the word. True, in t he penultimate line of the
poem Abendländisches Lied Trakl writes the words, “O n e Geschlecht.” Yet
by w hat m ethod, o r a long w hat p ath o f t hinking, o r f rom w hat p lace o r
situation, are we to read and hear these words?
The second of Derrida’s two explicit references to Geschlecht III, with
which Geschlecht II in fact comes to a close (446–51), mentions “some one
hundred pages,” les quelque cent pages, that Derrida elsewhere (that is, in
the seminar on “ The Phantom of the Other”) has devoted to Heidegger’s
Trakl essay. In Heidegger’s conversation with the poet, which wants to be a
Zwiegespräch, the talk of a twosome about the twofold Geschlecht, Derrida
isolates ἀve areas of “focus,” ἀve foyers, for his own reading of Heidegger’s
reading. The fourth of these “foci,” involving the idiomatic nature of par‑
ticular G erman w ords, i s s ubdivided in to y et a nother ἀ ve, l abeled “a” t o
“e.” D errida r emarks t hat, in spite o f w hat wa s a rgued e arlier, Heidegger
in fac t a lways w rites, w hether w ittingly o r n ot, w ith t wo h ands, s o t hat
it is not a m atter of “criticizing” his reading; it is always and everywhere,
Derrida insists, an effort to s ee w hether t he “place” of Trakl’s p oetry c an
be located with any degree of assurance. The ἀve general areas of Derrida’s
inquiry—an in quiry h e p romises t o p ursue in w hat w ill b e t he third of
his own Geschlechter, are, briefly stated, (1) t he problem of humanity and
animality, viewed not “biologically” but in t erms of Trakl’s repeated men‑
tion of “blue game,” ein blaues Wild, along with Heidegger’s unquenchable
desire to identify a humankind that leaves behind all reference to animali‑
ty; (2) good polysemy, or multiplicity of meaning, which Heidegger clearly
affirms in hi s co nversations w ith p oetry, v ersus b ad di spersion o r di s‑
semination of meaning; (3) the methodology by w hich Heidegger wa nts
to situate or place Trakl’s “unspoken” p oem, a nd t he apparent circularity
or alternation (Wechselbezug) of commentary (Erläuterung) on particular
poems or s peciἀc verses a nd placement (Erörterung) of t he un spoken
single poem, inasmuch a s the latter without the former is arbitrary, the
former w ithout t he l atter b lind; (4) H eidegger’s manner or maneuvers
(derived from les mains, and their way of “handling” a text) when it comes
to di scussing t he m eaning o f p articular w ords, hi s r ecourse a lways a nd
everywhere to the concealed history of “our” language, meaning German,
especially Old High German, when it comes to essential words in Trakl’s
printed poems, words such as (a) Schlag and Geschlecht as such, “stroke,”
“blow,” “ coinage,” o r p erhaps a lso “ beat,” a nd a ll t he s undry s enses o f
Geschlecht that h ave a lready b een m entioned, (b) t he Ort of Erörterung,
the si te, o r t he “ point o f t he s pear,” w here a ll m ultiplicities a nd m ani‑
folds, in cluding t he t wofold, p resumably ga ther in to o ne, (c) t he s ubtle
opposition t hat H eidegger in sists o n b etween geistig and geistlich, which
putatively en ables him (a nd “hi s” Trakl) t o a void t he P latonic‑Christian
distinctions b etween min d a nd m atter, et ernity a nd t ime, g ood a nd e vil,
and so on, all the while alluding to them, both geistig and geistlich deriving
from gheis, which m eans o r a t le ast s uggests “ flame,” (d) fremd, derived
from fram, meaning n ot “ foreign” b ut “ under wa y t oward,” h eading n ot
away from but toward a cer tain destination and thus avoiding dispersion
into t he foreign, and (e) Wahnsinn, which means, w hen v iewed in t erms
of t he m edieval r oots wana and sinnan, avoiding t he u sual p aths a nd
striking out on n ew ways, a lthough once a gain n ot into t he foreign; and
ἀnally, in o rder t o en d t he l arger li st o f g eneral a reas o r foyers, (5) die
Verwesung, the de composition o r di sessencing o f (Western) humanity a s
the result of a s econd stroke or blow t hat introduces discord, dissension,
and indeed savagery and bestiality, perhaps even incest, into the twofold
of t he s exes, s uch t hat h umanity i s di sἀgured—a di sessencing t hat o nce
again co mpels H eidegger t o r epeat in c lassic g estures t he v ery l anguage
and conceptuality of Platonism and Christianity all the while denying that
either he or Trakl is doing so.
With that cascade of issues and problems, Geschlecht II comes to its
chute, its precipitous conclusion, intended to serve as an envoi to Derrida’s
listeners. We w ill t ake u p t hat envoi or “sending” in c hapters 5 a nd 6 o f
the p resent b ook, b ut n ot b efore exa mining a t ext t hat a t le ast a ppears
to in terrupt t he Geschlecht series, n amely, t he 1987 Of Spirit: Heidegger
and the Question. And in a m ove that is more controversial, we will even
consider t he 1989 Geschlecht IV before turning back to the typescript of
Geschlecht III and t he 1984–85 s eminar in P aris, Le fantôme de l’autre,
on w hich t he t ypescript i s b ased. The r eason? P rincipally b ecause in t he
book t hat a ppears in t he mid st o f t he Geschlecht series, a s w ell a s in
Geschlecht IV itself, t he s econd m agnetic p ole o f t he s eries, n amely, t he
poetry o f G eorg Trakl a nd i ts em phatic “Ein Geschlecht,” r eceives v ery
little attention, whereas it is at the core of the typescript and the 1984–85
seminar. A nd t he les s v isible r eason? The fac t t hat t he m aterial in b oth
the t ypescript a nd s eminar n otes i s m ore t hought p rovoking t oday t han
ever before and therefore merits greater exposure and discussion.
3
Of Spirit
Ecce homo
Yes! I know from whence I came!

Insatiable am I, just like the ἀame;
I shine and then consume the same.
All things glow beneath my hand,
All becomes ash beneath my brand:
Flame, ἀame is surely what I am.
—Friedrich Nietzsche
I wonder if i t is too much to say that this book, Of Spirit: Heidegger and
the Question, which is the somewhat expanded version of Derrida’s 1987
address t o a co lloquium de dicated t o “open q uestions” co ncerning H ei‑
degger, c hanged v irtually e verything a bout H eidegger s tudies. F or D er‑
rida wa s a ble t o s how t hat e very va riety of Heidegger s cholar—from t he
Holy Heideggerians to t he Heretical Heideggerians, and f rom t he mi lder
variety o f A nti‑Heideggerians t o t he H eideggerophobes o f a ll s tripes—
had t horoughly ig nored t he s trange c ase o f Geist, geistig, and geistlich
in Heidegger. I n Being and Time, the p henomenologist in structs him self
and u s t o “ avoid” t hese w ords, a nd t otal a voidance li kewise c haracter‑
izes t he r eception o f Heidegger’s w ork in t his r egard. I ncluding my o wn
reception of it.
Yet es pecially d uring t he y ears 1933 t o 1935 H eidegger s peaks n ot
only of spirit but in the name of spirit, for spirit, as it were, and precisely in
the most frightening political circumstances. He then, after the war, in his
second Trakl essay (1953) t ries to distinguish between geistig and geistlich
in a m anner t hat i s b oth en tirely un convincing a nd hig hly sig nificant.
69
Significant of what? The word geistig, says Heidegger in 1953, encapsulates

all t hat i s co rrupt in t he P latonic‑Christian t radition, i ts in tellectualism
and i ts s piritualism. Geistig, however, i s t he w ord t hat a ppears o ver a nd
over a gain in H eidegger’s t exts o f t he 1930s, n ot m erely m entioned b ut
used and advocated. Only in 1953 w ill Geist and geistlich prove to be furi‑
ous w ords, t hat i s, w ords h aving t o do w ith fire. As s uch t hey w ill s how
us a H eidegger w ho wa nts t o r esist t he f orce o f t he pneumatic tradition
of s pirit in o rder t o co mmence a n “ other” t hinking o f H eraclitus’s π ῦρ
ἀείζωον, “everliving fire.” Geist will, toward the end of Heidegger’s career,
appear in t he form of ἀame. Ironically, this would be one of the very few
words that are identical in the Gallo‑Latin and Germanic language groups:
ἀame, la flamme, die Flamme.
At the outset of his De l’esprit, Derrida comments on the Ciceronian
character of t he t itle, itself b orrowed f rom Helvétius’s De l’esprit, a book
that was condemned and consigned to ἀames on the grand stairway of
the Palais de Justice on February 10, 1759. Even Rousseau hated the book,
although he consigned his own polemical pages on it to the ἀames when
he le arned t hat Helvétius wa s b eing p ersecuted o n acco unt o f hi s b ook.
An im portant a spect o f D errida’s effort in Of Spirit is t o b ring b oth t he
Latin and the German languages and cultural heritages to center stage, in
order t o a sk w hether Geist, geistig, and geistlich are at a ll de l’esprit, and
whether t ranslation do es n ot h ere co nfront a n a bsolute a poria. S uch a n
aporia finds u s in a n Ort or Ortschaft, a “place,” in w hich di scussion o r
“placement” ( Erörterung) i s b oth dem anded a nd m ade p recarious, p er‑
haps e ven impossible; i t w ould b e a n intersection m arked by a dizzy ing
array o f sig ns, a mong t hem “ what o ne c alls hi story, l anguage, n ation,
Geschlecht, the Greek or the German” (DE 18/5). In short, “spirit” initially
appears t o b e ir relevant t o H eidegger’s t hinking, o r a t le ast n ot t o b e a
rubric t hat H eidegger him self ad vertises. A nd y et, s ays D errida, w ords
that w e w ould in evitably t ranslate in t erms o f t he “ spiritual” s eem t o
magnetize H eidegger’s t hinking f rom b eginning t o en d, n ot o nly in hi s
infamous political texts of the 1930s but also in his lectures and essays
on H ölderlin, S chelling, N ietzsche, a nd, y ears l ater, Trakl. A s b izarre a s
such a c laim m ay s eem, H eidegger’s w ork a s a w hole, s ays D errida, se
laisse pourtant aimanter by Geist (DE 16/3). Aimanter, we r ecall, i s t he
word t hat D errida s elects t o characterize his o wn fa scination w ith t he
1953 Trakl essay.
The second chapter of De l’esprit presents the four “open questions”
that are Derrida’s own; questions, he says, where his hesitation and uncer‑
Of Spirit 71
tainty co ncerning H eidegger a re g reatest. I t i s fa ir t o s ay t hat e ach o f

these f our “ threads” h as b oth a n ex oteric a nd a n es oteric t wist—that i s
to s ay, t hey a re imm ediately un derstandable a nd y et r equire a lo ng a nd
difficult exegesis. These four t hreads, w hich D errida s ees forming a k not
or tangle, and perhaps even a w eft or tapestry (this time not a Geschlecht
but a Geflecht), may be described brieἀy as follows.1
1. Q uestioning, Fragen, i s t he piety o f t hinking, s ays H eidegger a t
the end of “ The Question C oncerning Technology” (VA 44; B W 317). I n
Being and Time he identifies Dasein as the exemplary questioner, the only
being t hat c an in terrogate—although i t h as n ot y et in terrogated—being
as s uch. The q uestioning o f b eing, a nd n ot s ome p roperty o r q uality o f
“spirit,” serves Heidegger as the appropriate starting point for an analysis
of h uman b eing. I t i s n ot un til v ery l ate in t he d ay, in “ The E ssence o f
Language” (US 157–216), f rom t he y ear 1958, t hat Heidegger c hallenges
the supreme dignity of the question by asserting t he preeminence of the
“address” a nd “ assent” ( Zuspruch, Zusage) o f a nd t o l anguage o ver a ll
explicit q uestioning. (The lo ng n ote de dicated t o F rançoise D astur, in
chapter 9 o f De l’esprit, b ased on a lo ng di scussion b etween D errida and
Dastur a t t he University o f E ssex in 1986, i s es sential in this respect.)
Here D errida j oins H eidegger’s t hinking w ith p erhaps t he g reatest sy m‑
pathy and engagement, reἀecting on the promise that the call of thinking
enjoins. For Derrida, that promise involves a double affirmation, a double
yes t hat e vokes a nd en gages q uestioning. A s t he s ubtitle o f De l’esprit
betrays, t his first guidin g t hread i s a lso t he m ost p ersistent in D errida’s
text. “Thus I s hall try to show,” writes Derrida (DE 25–26/10), “that Geist
is p erhaps t he n ame t hat H eidegger g ives, b eyond e very o ther n ame, t o
this unquestioned possibility of the question.”
A p erhaps m ore es oteric a pproach t o t he q uestion o f t he q ues‑
tion w ould in volve o ur ac knowledging t hat q uestioning i s n ot t he o nly
relation t o b eing t hat H eidegger di scusses in t he o pening p ages o f Sein
und Zeit. There h e s tresses t hat D asein i s “ involved” in i ts b eing, t hat
its b eing “matters” t o i t. D asein geht um its o wn b eing. This a pparently
simple Umgang, the fa miliar in volvement w ith b oth t he w ord a nd t he
“thing” c alled being, is t here lo ng b efore a ny q uestion a rises. I ndeed,
Heidegger s tresses t hat t he q uestion h as t oday b een f orgotten, t hat a
1. I w ill b orrow f rom m y di scussion (in c hapter 8 o f Daimon Life) o f t hese f our t hreads (s ee
esp. DL, 266–68), once again with apologies for the repetition.
needlessness and heedlessness characterizes the question. For that reason,

something like a sense or sensibility for the question has to be awakened.
Furthermore, says Heidegger, we live in a p re‑ontological understanding
of b eing. This means t hat t he entire issue of “life,” including animal life,
which Derrida will t ake up as his t hird t hread, is cr ucial for f undamen‑
tal o ntology f rom t he v ery s tart. I t m ay s eem fa r‑fetched t o wa nt t o
connect D asein’s Umgang with b eing, o r i ts living within some s ort of
understanding of its being, with the Zuspruch and Zusage of Heidegger’s
later thinking, yet the effort might prove to be worthwhile. It may prove
that even the simplest of “understandings,” here understood in terms of
possibility‑being, and even the least reἀective modes of our living involve
something like the affirmation of a double‑yes. Derrida does not venture
here s uch a t hinking, w hich n o do ubt w ould h ave t o face t he c harge o f
being esoteric.
2. The essence of technology is nothing technical, says Heidegger in
that s ame essay, “ The Q uestion C oncerning Technology.” This is a r ecur‑
rent s trategy o f hi s, o ne t hat w ould p reserve t he r ealm o f es sences (in
the science of ontology as well as in p oetizing thinking) from the merely
contingent, the ontic, the prosaic. Indeed, Derrida is less concerned with
the issue of technology than with that of essence, Wesen. Heidegger tries
to t hink t he es sence v erbally, a s “ essential unf olding” o r e ven “ coming
to p resence,” a nd y et e ven t he v erbal es sence h as i ts p roblems. F or o ne
thing, “presence” marks the meaning of being for metaphysics. How could
Heidegger’s t hought o f Wesen as An‑wesen, “coming t o p resence,” a void
the co ntamination o f t he m etaphysical h eritage? More g enerally, t here i s
always in H eidegger’s t exts a hidden a ppeal t o t he a uthority o f s uch a
metaphysics. W hen H eidegger s ays t hat Wesen is t he v erbal “unfolding,”
rather t han t he t raditional essentia, he m akes a s uppressed appeal t o t he
essentia of Wesen. And a lthough H eidegger ra rely r efers t o i t, t he ini tial
sense of the verbal wesen is to “haunt.” For Derrida’s Of Spirit, this would
have b een a de licious di scovery: t he es sential unf olding o f b eing in t he
history of metaphysics is all about ghosts, all about spirits. And spirits are
known to return as revenants, especially when we try to lay them to rest.
At a cer tain point in his academic career, in the early- to mid‑1930s, Hei‑
degger is keen to rescue Geist from a certain destitution or disenfranchise‑
ment, a certain decrepitude or disempowerment, Entmachtung des Geistes.
Moreover, he t ries to r escue i t b y f orce of an “essential will” or “ will t o
essence,” Wesenwille, which itself is a fateful inheritance from metaphysics.
Nor will he shy from raising the decisive issue for metaphysics and morals,
namely, t he di stinction b etween g ood a nd e vil, a s a m atter o f Geist. The
Of Spirit 73
desire to preserve spirit from “disessencing” or decomposition, Verwesung,

propels Heidegger’s 1953 T rakl essay, s o t hat t he long c areer of Wesen in
Heidegger’s thought remains one of the “open” questions.
3. The di scourse o n a nimality in w hich H eidegger p articipates b ut
which he by no means masters is p erhaps t he s econd most v isible t hread
in Of Spirit. How co uld i t b e o therwise, if “ spirit” i s t raditionally defined
in opposition to nature, materiality, and bestiality; or if, as “On the Essence
and Concept of Φύσις” (W 309) indicates, Geist is aligned with “grace,” the
“supernatural,” “art,” and “history”? However much the animality of “mere
life,” “just‑plain‑life,” nur‑noch‑Leben, appears to be excluded from the pur‑
view of fundamental ontology, and however much life too appears to be a
matter that necessitates avoidance (precisely because life is neither Dasein
nor what is handy nor what is at hand), animality remains a p roblem that
returns again and again to haunt Heidegger’s thought, haunt it to the point
where t he ontological difference itself i s m ade t o t remble. At le ast, t his i s
what Derrida will argue in the very last seminar of his own life. For even in
later texts such as What Is Called Thinking? Heidegger’s discourse on man
and animality surrenders to a r hetoric s o “peremptory and authoritarian”
that i t a ppears ac tually t o b e a “ dissimulation in t he face o f a n im passe”
(DE 28/11). That impasse becomes most visible in the 1929–30 lectures on
The Fundamental Concepts of Metaphysics: World—Finitude—Solitude, in
which Heidegger tries to compare the world‑relations of stone, animal, and
Dasein. I f t he s tone i s w orldless, a nd h umanity w orld‑shaping, a nimality
is in s ome enig matic s ense b oth with and without w orld. I n a w ord, a nd
an embarrassing word it is, animality is “poor in world,” which of course
sounds like one of the Beatitudes. Such “world poverty,” less beatific when
translated this way, is no doubt bound up with the animal’s lack of essential
“technique,” which is a lack of “know‑how,” bound up too with its inability
to p ose q uestions a nd t o co nfront i ts d ying as such: t hus, t he first t hree
threads—the question of the question, the question of the essence, and the
question of life—begin to twist and k not themselves, a s it were. Because
they always h ave do ne s o in o ur hi story, viewed a s t he hi story o f b eing,
they point to the fourth and final thread.2
4. The “ epochality” o f H eidegger’s hi story o f b eing, es pecially hi s
understanding o f t he hi story o f m etaphysics o r o f “ beyng” a s es sentially
2. On t he t hird t hread, s ee t he r emarkable l ate t exts b y D errida, The Animal That Therefore I
Am, and t he t wo volumes of hi s final s eminar, The Beast and the Sovereign. For a di scussion of
these texts, see D. F. Krell, Derrida and Our Animal Others (AO).
one epoch, preserves traces of an o ntotheological and teleological think‑

ing, particularly in what it forecloses for thinking and excludes from the
history o f b eing. D errida s ees s uch f oreclosure a t w ork in H eidegger’s
interpretation o f the P latonic χ ώρα as a “preparation” f or t he Cartesian
interpretation of objects in space as extensio. He sees it also in Heidegger’s
tendency to exclude recalcitrant figures from his critique of modern sub‑
jectivity, figures s uch a s S pinoza, w ho c annot b e s o r eadily s ubsumed
under t he r ubric of s ubjectivity. The telos of D errida’s own b ook—if it i s
fair a nd acc urate t o a pply t he s ame w ord t o hi s en deavors—is t o p ut in
question a nd e ven t o s uspend Heidegger’s rejection o f t he entire P laton‑
ic‑Christian t radition (a s t hough in i ts “entirety” i t w ere one). P recisely
here i s w here Of Spirit comes c losest t o t he Geschlecht series, a nd es pe‑
cially to the unpublished Geschlecht III. For what Derrida objects to here
is H eidegger’s effort t o ac knowledge t he w ord geistlich (b ut n ot geistig,
affirmed a nd u sed in 1933 a nd 1935 b ut s purned t wenty y ears l ater) in
Trakl’s p oetry. A s w e w ill s ee, t he final s essions o f D errida’s 1984–85
seminar, “ The P hantom o f t he O ther,” r esist H eidegger’s effort s trenu‑
ously—not in o rder to affirm either the “Platonism” or the “Christianity”
of T rakl’s p oetry but t o s how how p eremptory a nd a uthoritarian s uch
“epochal” reductions and exclusions are.
That the word and the things called variously Geist, geistig, geistlich
knot t hese f our t hreads D errida c laims t o k now “ahead o f t ime,” comme
par avance (24/19). The w ord hypothesis i s t here m erely o ut o f co urtesy.
Yet if D errida knows Geist to be the truth of being, that is, the gathering
of both Heidegger’s and his own thought, at least on the present occasion,
the result of such knowledge is as ominous as it is p aradoxical. For D er‑
rida’s o nly s urety i s a “ negative cer titude,” a nd t he t hesis co ncerning t he
importance of Geist for Heidegger remains his, D errida’s, hypothesis: t he
only thing that Derrida is perfectly sure of is that he does not understand
very well “what ultimately r egulates the spiritual idiom in H eidegger”;
equally un certain, h owever, i s hi s h ypothesis t hat a figure o f ex cessive
clarity, “the a mbiguous c larity o f t he ἀame,” w ill i lluminate t he t angle o f
these four threads (DE 29–30/12–13).
The t hird a nd f ourth c hapters o f De l’esprit offer a c lose r eading o f
the word Geist, mentioned mostly by way of avoidance, in Sein und Zeit.
Heidegger do es n ot t ry t o define Geist, whether h e i s a voiding i t, m en‑
tioning it, or u sing it. He employs t he w ord, D errida s ays, axiomatically.
Yet whenever Heidegger does appeal to the word the results are dramatic.
Why dramatic? B ecause the word and the “thing” called Geist, so central
to the tradition that calls for Destruktion and Abbau, or “deconstruction,”
Of Spirit 75
appears to es cape f rom or lie b eyond a ll cr itical dismantling. It s eems to

be a p art o f t hat “ inheritance,” Erbe, that H eidegger ci tes in s ection 74,
a “heritage” that apparently suffers no Destruktion. In Being and Time it
is, t o repeat, p rincipally a m atter o f avoiding Geist. The w ord b elongs t o
the o ntotheological t radition, h owever, a nd t o t hat ext ent w ould h ave t o
undergo Destruktion; it pertains particularly to the Cartesian res cogitans,
whose being, namely, t he b eing of t he sum, has suffered neglect. D errida
works carefully through section 10, “Delimiting Dasein from Anthropolo‑
gy, Psychology, and Biology,” in w hich Heidegger emphasizes the compla‑
cency or ostensible needlessness (Bedürfnislosigkeit) that has characterized
the question of “the being of the subject, of the soul, of consciousness, of
spirit [des Geistes], of the person” (SZ 46). E ven when Heidegger uses the
word Geist w ithout q uotation m arks, h e i s m entioning i t o nly in o rder
to enf orce a voidance o f i t. E ven if w hat i t m eans i s a ltogether un clear,
or, ra ther, p recisely o n acco unt o f i ts l ack o f c lear m eaning, Geist is t o
be s hunned. D asein, a nd n ot s pirit, ra ises t he q uestion of b eing. D asein,
and not some dogmatically asserted “spirit,” is to be the concrete starting
point for fundamental ontology.
Here Derrida reverts to a s uspicion he has entertained at least since
the 1968 “ Ends of Man,” w hich we examined brieἀy in t he Introduction.
Concerning Heidegger’s peremptory assertion of Dasein as the privileged
questioner of Sein, Derrida w rites: “ This exemplarity c an b ecome, or c an
remain, p roblematic” (MA 36/17). S uch a s uspicion c annot i tself r ead‑
ily b ecome a q uestion, a s H eidegger w ould w ish, in asmuch a s a k ind o f
“reἀexivity” of questioning is in p lay here. How question t he structure of
Fragen w ithout o n t he o ne h and co nfirming i ts p ower a nd o n t he o ther
begging t he q uestion? P recisely w hat s tudents h ave a lways f ound m ost
compelling a bout Being and Time, to w it, t he fac t t hat t he f undamental
ontologist begins by thinking about what he or she is doing and so engag‑
es phenomenology t o factical life, can also become terribly disquieting.
How co uld o ne p ossibly t est t he “leg itimacy o r axio matic n ecessity” o f
this point of departure (DE 37/18)? A q uestioning of being‑able‑to‑ques‑
tion: Would n ot s uch a r eἀexivity un dermine t he v ery o rder o f exi sten‑
tial analysis and all its demonstrations, derivations, orderings, hierarchies,
groundings, im plications, a nd des criptions? D errida i s r ight t o r emind
us t hat t his i ssue o f t he p roper s tarting p oint, w hich H eidegger c alls
den rechten Ansatz, and of t he appropriate access, angemessenen Zugang,
obsesses Heidegger b efore, during, and after the Marburg years in w hich
Being and Time has its genesis. It dominates the 1921–22 analysis of facti‑
cal life and the 1929–30 le ctures on the animal world as much as it does
Being and Time. Yet t he m ore “esoteric” in terpretation o f t he “question”

has to be recalled here. The very “needlessness” of Dasein when it comes
to a n exp licit q uestioning o f b eing i s w hat H eidegger wa nts t o s tress:
Dasein “lives w ithin” and i s s omehow “ involved in” an un derstanding of
its being, no matter how vague and imprecise that understanding may be.
The apparent reἀexivity of the “question of the question” would be broken
if w e could g et c loser t o our Umgang and p erhaps e ven our Leben. How
difficult this was for Heidegger himself becomes clear when we remember
his earlier analyses of “factical life” in t he Marburg lecture courses. In the
1921–22 lectures, which we will take a brief look at in just a moment,
Heidegger stresses the thoroughgoing Ruinanz of factical life, which takes
it e asy a nd lo cks i tself a way f rom a n exa mination o f i ts lif e. W hat H ei‑
degger i s n ever a ble t o exp lain, h owever, i s w hat h e c alls Gegenruinanz,
namely, the impulse that counters the forces of inertia and complacency,
thus making philosophical inquiry possible.
The principal issue elaborated by Derrida in t his third section is the
problem of three different kinds of indifference (Gleichgültigkeit, but also
Indifferenz) w ith r espect t o t he q uestion o f b eing: (1) t he in difference o f
every being at hand toward its own being, (2) the indifference (Indifferenz)
that b elongs t o D asein s tructurally a nd i s es sential t o t he modal n ature
of exi stential a nalysis, a nd (3) co mplete in difference ( Bedürfnislosigkeit)
vis‑à‑vis the question of the meaning of being. Indifference in t hese three
senses causes Geist (along with consciousness, subjectivity, person, and so
on) to be interpreted as some thing at hand. Perhaps existential‑ontologi‑
cal analysis as a w hole can be viewed after all as an effort to deconstruct
Geist, precisely by removing it from handy assertions about things at hand
and r erouting i t in t he dir ection o f Gemüt (a r emarkably un translatable
term, whether into French or English, but suggesting something like one’s
“heart o f h earts” o r “ innermost co re”), and Gemüt in t urn in t he dir ec‑
tion o f Existenz: “ The a pparently n ew b eginning o f p hilosophizing [in
Descartes] r eveals i tself t o b e t he s owing o f a fa tal p rejudice, a s a r esult
of which succeeding a ges n eglected a thematic ontological analysis of
‘Gemüt’ along t he guidelines of t he question of b eing and a lso as a cr iti‑
cal co nfrontation w ith t he o ntology in herited f rom a ntiquity” (SZ 25).
Using yet another metaphysical word t hat by r ights ought to b e avoided,
Heidegger concludes: “The ‘substance’ of human being is not spirit, as the
synthesis o f s oul a nd b ody, b ut existence” (SZ 117). H ere o ne c an r ead‑
ily s ee h ow t he i ssues o f essence a nd o f t he question im plicate t he t hird
thread, animality and, in general, the question of life, as well as the fourth,
namely, epochality. It is also clear that the shift from Geist to Gemüt, the
Of Spirit 77
latter b eing e ven les s t ranslatable t han t he f ormer, if o nly b ecause i t i s

more f raught w ith m elancholy ( Schwermut), le ads u s t o s uspect t hat t he
matter o f “spirit” in Being and Time i s, a s i t w ere, a c losed b ook. S pirit?
And Heidegger? Has Derrida simply confused him with Hegel?
Yet spirit does return to haunt. Although Heidegger begins by avoid‑
ing the word, it becomes clear that “something of spirit can be subtracted
from t he C artesian‑Hegelian m etaphysics o f s ubjectivity, s omething t hat
points in t he dir ection o f [ faire signe vers] t he Gemüt” (DE 44/23). S ur‑
prisingly, s pirit’s return occurs n ot only after Being and Time but also
within i t. F or exa mple, w hen H eidegger r efers t o t he “ spiritual” n ature
of D asein’s s patiality a fter h aving in sisted t hat D asein i s n ot a Geistding
encapsulated in a Körperding (SZ 56). I n s ection 70, H eidegger w rites:
“Rather, b ecause i t i s ‘ spiritual’ [ ‘geistig,’ s till in q uotation m arks, t o b e
sure], and only for that reason, Dasein can be spatial in a way that remains
essentially im possible f or a n ext ended co rporeal t hing” (SZ 368). H ei‑
degger himself emphasizes the words “and only for that reason,” as though
the w ord geistig has en ough r esidual s ense f or t he f undamental o ntolo‑
gist, a nd a s t hough t he w ord c an b e u sed precisely in o rder t o resist t he
Cartesian esprit.
Spirit returns e ven m ore p owerfully a s t he ep itome o f t he vu lgar
understanding o f t ime. That i s t o s ay, Geist returns in s ection 82 un der
the aegis of Hegel. In Heidegger’s view, Hegelian spirit merely “falls” into
time, as Hegel himself admits, “falling” as one thing at hand into time as
another s uch t hing. Q uotation m arks co ntinue t o co nstrain Geist h ere,
yet t he p rivileged h orizon o f time in H eidegger’s p roject requires t hat
the p osition o f s pirit a nd “ time” n ot b e sy mmetrical w ith t hat o f t he
“geistigen” nature o f t he s patiality o f D asein. H eidegger w rites, n ear t he
conclusion of section 82 (SZ 436): “ ‘Spirit’ does not first of all [nicht erst]
fall into time, but exists as the original temporalizing of temporality.” Geist
appears in q uotation marks once again, t his t ime as an indication t hat it
is Hegel’s word. Yet something apparently can be translated from the lat‑
ter’s s uperlatively m etaphysical t ext in to H eidegger’s o wn a nalysis o f t he
temporalizing ( Zeitigung) of D asein; s omething c an b e s ubtracted f rom
the vu lgar conception of a p lummeting spirit‑thing fa lling into t ime and
so saved for an existential analysis of the temporal ecstasis of the present
as fa lling prey, entanglement, or l apse, Verfallen. Whether and h ow s uch
“subtraction” c an b e t hought w ithout t he m ost r igorous a nd p ainstak‑
ing efforts o f de construction r emains o ne o f t hose o pen q uestions. A t
all e vents, H eidegger co ncludes: “ ‘Spirit’ do es n ot fa ll into t ime; ra ther,
factical exi stence ‘falls’ a s l apsing [ verfallende] from o riginal, a ppropriate
temporality.” The fa ll i s, a s D errida n otes, “displaced,” b ecoming a l apsus

from one mode of temporalizing to another, although whether Heidegger
will ultimately be able to sustain two modes of temporalizing is doubtful,
to say the least. (Recall t he extended analyses of s o‑called vulgar time in
“Ousia a nd G rammè,” a s o f t he “h orizon o f p resence” in H eidegger.) I n
any case, for Heidegger, all reverts to the ecstatic interpretation as opposed
to the vulgar understanding of time, just as much later, in 1953, both good
and evil will revert to the flame of spirit (a “spirit” that by that time is
fully divested of its “scare quotes”).
It is precisely here that a close reading of Heidegger’s 1921–22 lecture
course (“ Phenomenological I nterpretations o f A ristotle: A n I ntroduction
to P henomenological R esearch,” exa mined b rieἀy in c hapter 1) s upports
Derrida’s r eading o f Sein und Zeit in Of Spirit. Factical lif e i s animated as
falling; its very Bewegtheit or κίνησις is Ruinanz, “ruination” or “ruinance.”
Mirrored in t he world by a k ind of reἀected light or Reluzenz, seduced by
the c arnival a nd m asked b all o f w hat in Being and Time H eidegger w ill
call in appropriate e veryday exi stence b ut h ere Larvanz, life p lunges in to
the n othing, “the nothing of factical life.” The mystery a nd e ven mirac le in
such a fa llen and falling world is that a co unterthrust against or resistance
to ruinance, Gegenruinanz, can occur. It transpires, says Heidegger, in p hi‑
losophy’s tendency to seek illumination, Erhellung. As a result of some inde‑
scribable “gnawing” at the philosopher’s innards, factical life becomes aware
of i ts fa ilings a nd i ts l acks, i ts Darbung, a nd s truggles a gainst t he p lunge.
(The b aroque a nd e ven g othic l anguage o f t hese e arly a nalyses o f fac tical
life—Ruinanz, Reluzenz, Larvanz, Darbung, Abriegelung, and so on—merits
an a nalysis o f i ts o wn.) I f Geist r emains unn amed in s uch a s cenario, t he
Erhellungstendenz o f k nowing a nd p hilosophizing, s o c lose t o t he t radi‑
tion o f a l uminous “spirit,” r emains t he o nly f orce b y w hich t otal di strac‑
tion, dispersion, and diffusion (Zerstreuung) can be countered. Significantly,
spirit does appear in t his e arly le cture course when it is a q uestion of “the
problem of leadership” (das Führerproblem) in the university, or a matter of
the “spiritual‑intellectual p reparation” o f s tudents, a s o pposed t o t he fa tu‑
ous w it of mere “Geistigkeit.” The l atter appears in q uotation marks, surely
inasmuch a s Geistigkeit in this c ase i s a t ranslation o f esprit, t he m ere w it
of a belle‑lettrist who almost certainly lives on the other side o f the R hine.
One do es n ot h ave t o wa it un til 1933 t o h ear H eidegger co mplain a bout
the “spiritual co ndition w e find o urselves in,” o r a bout “ the co rruptors o f
spiritual life,” who abuse philosophy (61:70, 117–18).
Derrida’s fifth c hapter do es b ring u s t o 1933, w here “ the l aw o f
quotation-marks” i s r escinded. H ere t he b ook Of Spirit t akes o ne o f i ts
Of Spirit 79
most dra matic t urns. The u sage o f q uotation m arks—a u sage t hat h as
long p reoccupied de construction, w hich em braces “ paleonymy” a nd
inaugurates t he “epochal r egime o f s care q uotes”—reaches a k ind o f cr i‑
sis. F or in t he 1933 r ectorate addr ess, The Self‑Assertion of the German
University, o f w hich t his s ection i s a c lose r eading, H eidegger dr ops t he
scare q uotes. D errida p ictures t hem a s p ins (“ ”) h olding a c urtain t hat
is lo wered b efore a s tage: a s t he p ins fa ll a way, t he c urtain, w hich wa s
always raised a crac k, opens onto t he p olitical play “Of Spirit” itself. The
stage is not designed for a presentation of the gigantesque, except perhaps
for a n ac ademic’s co nception o f t he gigantesque. The curtain r ises o n a
scene of ac ademic‑political s olemnity: S pirit itself, in t he person of t he
spiritus rector in procession, appears in m ortarboard and ermine in o rder
to co nfirm t he s elf‑affirmation o f t he G erman uni versity. The p rudence
and m ethodological r igor o f Being and Time, as w ell a s i ts r esistance t o
the rhetoric of “spirit,” bow to the fervent rhetoric of the newly ordained
spiritual leader of the University of Freiburg.
The spiritual mission of the German university under its new lead‑
ership (Führung) sanctions the end of those constraints that scare quotes
clearly are, t he constraints t hat bind t he words Geist and geistig in Being
and Time. Two decades after the Rektoratsrede, in t he Trakl essay of 1953,
Heidegger will counterpose Trakl’s word geistlich to the term geistig, claim‑
ing that the latter remains embroiled in t he Platonic‑Christian ontotheo‑
logical t radition, w hereas t he word geistlich ostensibly escapes f rom all
contamination by that tradition. However, in 1933 Heidegger promulgates
the w ord geistig, not geistlich, a nd h e s ets i t, n ot in s care q uotes, b ut in
italics; he underlines and stresses it rather than pinning it with constraints;
he ig nores t he w ord geistlich (w hich o f co urse w ould b e o dd o utside o f
a s trictly c lerical o r e cclesiastical co ntext), a nd h e do es n ot s uggest t hat
geistig has anything to do with a tradition that has to be deconstructed.
Geistige Führung, which h as m ore t o do w ith in heritance t han t radition,
will not concern itself with such a Destruktion. At the core of the rector‑
ate address, Heidegger defines Geist not in a C artesian or Hegelian sense
but in t erms o f t he mi ssion ( Auftrag) o f t he G erman uni versity a s s uch.
Derrida sin gles o ut f our p redicates co ntained in H eidegger’s in vocation
of s pirit, p redicates that, in spite of t he apparent distance of t he rector‑
ate addr ess f rom Being and Time, s tand in di scomfiting p roximity t o i t:
(1) spirit questions, provided it is understood as a w ill to knowledge and
a w ill t o es sence ( Fragen, Wissenchaft, Wesenswille); (2) s pirit exp resses
or r eἀects t he spiritual world of t he p eople ( geistige Welt); (3) s pirit i s
nourished by the forces or powers of earth and blood, even in t he august,
elevated, urban, and urbane German university (erd- und bluthaften Kräfte
als Macht); (4) s pirit i s r esolute o penedness, o r w hat o ne mig ht in t his
new context translate as “resoluteness” or “resolve” (Entschlossenheit, one
of the most important concepts of Being and Time, retained also, although
Derrida does not mention it, in Heidegger’s postwar Gelassenheit [G 19]).
Derrida ci tes a lo ng p assage f rom t he r ectorate addr ess (S B 14),
describing it as a ce lebration, exaltation, and kerygmatic proclamation of
spirit. I t i s a t ext o f s uperlatives, o f sin gularities, o f t he es sence, a nd o f
the utmost gravity: Geist ist ursprünglich gestimmte, wissende Entschlossen‑
heit zum Wesen des Seins. “Spirit is originally attuned, cognizant resolute
openedness to the essence of being.” Yet also a text of the utmost violence
and d anger: Und die geistige Welt eines Volkes . . . ist Macht der tiefsten
Bewahrung seiner erd- und bluthaften Kräfte als Macht der innersten Erreg
ung und weitesten Erschütterung seines Daseins. “And the spiritual world of
a people  .  .  .  is the power that most profoundly preserves a people’s forces
of e arth a nd b lood, t he p ower t hat m ost in tensely h eightens a nd m ost
extensively s hatters its D asein.” Here Heidegger er ects and exa lts both
“the hig hest,” le plus haut, and t he “deepest.” D errida t herefore in dicates
the hig hs a nd lo ws t hat o ften do minate t he r hetoric o f H eidegger’s di s‑
course. In the Rektoratsrede of 1933 i t is a m atter of the elevated historic
destiny a nd t he hauteur o f a p eople gathered in dieser hohen Schule t hat
has its foundation ostensibly in t he depths of G ermanic earth‑and‑blood
forces. Spirit here has nothing to do with metaphysical subjectivity, at least
in H eidegger’s o wn j udgment. “ No co ntradiction w ith Being and Time
in t his r espect,” r emarks D errida (D E 61/37). There r emains o f co urse
the possibility that the new rector’s “massive voluntarism” is em broiled
precisely in t he decisionism and will to election of modern metaphysical
Subiectität, and t hat t he unio n o f Geist and Geschichte (geistig‑geschicht
liches Dasein, geschichtlich‑geistige Welt) c annot s o e asily b e di sentangled
from its Hegelian inheritance. Yet such an inheritance would be disastrous
for both fundamental ontology and H eidegger’s “other” thinking. For if
Dasein and Welt are n ow unified in Geist; if t he g lobal p henomenon o f
being‑in‑the‑world is nothing other than a w illful spirit; if o penedness to
the essential unfolding of the truth of beyng is Geist; and if the history of
being i s t he exi stence o f s pirit ( das Dasein des Geistes); t hen Heidegger’s
thinking f rom b eginning t o en d i s n o m ore t han a n ep iphenomenal
right‑wing Hegelianism.
Derrida does not propose such a r eduction. Not for nothing has he
been a k ind of “envoy,” insisting that his French and American colleagues
read a nd s tudy Heidegger w ith t he g reatest c are. A nd y et t he entirety o f
Of Spirit 81
De l’esprit i s h aunted by t he s pectral return of a Geist that a lways m eans

more than either Heidegger or Derrida himself can control. It is as though
spirit w ere n ot a ἀ ame b ut a k ind o f f ungus, a m ushroom t hrusting i ts
head through pine needles on the Black Forest ἀoor.
Spirit a nd hi story uni te f or H eidegger in essential questioning. The
first a nd s econd t hreads o f D errida’s h esitation a nd p erplexity t herefore
return again in the terrifying entanglements of The Self‑Assertion of the
German University. Science is das fragende Standhalten in the midst of
beings a s a w hole (S B 12). S cience o bligates t he o ne w ho a ssumes s piri‑
tual le adership ( geistige Führung) “ to t he es sentiality a nd sim plicity o f
questioning,” zur Wesentlichkeit und Einfachheit des Fragens (SB 17). Such
questioning understands itself as response, and response as acceptance of
the c all t o r esponsibility. On ce a gain, e choes o f a n et hico‑religious di s‑
course, e choes t hat w ill r eturn in c hapter 9 o f De l’esprit w hen D errida
himself in vokes—not w ithout t repidation—the r esponsibility o f p olitical
engagement.
Heidegger’s di scourse of spirit would leg itimize N ational S ocial‑
ism. On e co uld t herefore t urn a gainst H eidegger t he c harge h e b rings
against Nietzsche in “ Who Is Nietzsche’s Zarathustra?” when he writes of
Nietzsche’s “supremely s piritualized s pirit of revenge,” höchst vergeistigter
Geist der Rache (VA 117; N i 2:228). A nd yet one must a lso acknowledge
that in this very same gesture, to wit, Heidegger’s acceptance—or arroga‑
tion—of s piritual le adership, h e t akes hi s di stance f rom National S ocial‑
ism, in terrupts hi s co mmitment t o w hat w ill p rove t o b e a nything b ut a
spiritualized politics o f “earth a nd b lood.” D errida a rgues t hat u ltimately
one c annot i solate H eidegger’s s piritualism f rom a r eductive a nd raci st
biologism, n o m atter h ow v ociferously H eidegger w ould o bject, a nd i t
is t his contamination o f t he di scourse o f “ freedom o f t he s pirit,” a s w ell
as t he complicity in w hich a ll s uch di scourses a re in evitably c aught, t hat
haunts Derrida’s Of Spirit. No doubt one must choose the least hazardous
of such complicities and contaminations that one can, even though choice
itself i s t he g reatest h azard; t o dr eam o f es cape f rom t he n ecessity a nd
the hazard of choice, however, would be to give up the ghost. And so the
other ghost, the specter of spirit, always returns; doubling itself, it passes
into its opposite and begins to ventriloquize. “Metaphysics returns,” writes
Derrida, “and I un derstand this as a returning‑to‑haunt; Geist is the most
fatal figure of this haunting return” (DE 66/40). E ven Heidegger, with all
his apotropaic scare quotes, all his Anführungszeichen and Gänsefüßchen,
cannot es cape i t: s uch e quivocality, a mbiguity, a nd e ven di spersion a nd
dissemination appear to b e of spirit, de l’esprit. The haunting of spirit, in
both the subjective and objective genitives, returns almost immediately, in

the 1935 lectures that offer an “introduction to metaphysics,” and decades
later, in the 1953 “Language in the Poem.”
Spiritual Führung is in(t ro)duction in to m etaphysics; i t m eans t o
conduct u s t o a n in quiry in to t he f undamental o r g rounding q uestion,
Hineinführen in das Fragen der Grundfrage. Heidegger’s geopolitical analy‑
sis of spirit in 1935, a n analysis conducted from the apparently sole pos‑
sible va ntage p oint o f “ the m etaphysical n ation” t hat G ermany i s (EM
29), os cillates b etween t he des pair‑beyond‑pessimism o f “ the d arkening
world” and the hope‑beyond‑optimism of “new historical‑spiritual forces
from the middle” of the Continent. Derrida continues his analysis of this
text, An Introduction to Metaphysics, in c hapter 7 o f De l’esprit. Having
cited H eidegger’s “ Weltpolitik of s pirit” a nd hi s l ament o f Weltverdüster‑
ung, or the “spiritual decline” of the world, Derrida now picks up another
thread, t he t hird, w hich a sks h ow t he s piritual w orld i s r elated t o t he
world o f b eings t hat a re os tensibly un like D asein. A nimals, f or in stance.
Other animals.
In c hapter 6 D errida t reats a t s ome len gth t he a nalyses o f a nimal‑
ity a nd t he w orld‑relation o f a nimals a s H eidegger de velops t hem in
his 1929–30 lecture course, The Fundamental Concepts of Metaphysics:
World—Finitude—Solitude. He emphasizes Heidegger’s hostility to Lebens‑
philosophie, without noting, however, that Heidegger’s dissatisfaction with
transcendental phenomenology and his advance through Existenzphiloso‑
phie to fundamental ontology has much to do with his conviction, dating
from the early 1920s, that philosophy will ἀourish only by remaining close
to “factical lif e.” This i s n ot t o s ay t hat Heidegger i s a Lebensphilosoph, a
life‑philosopher of the Bergsonian, Nietzschean, or Schelerian sort, much
less a di sciple o f O swald S pengler o r L udwig K lages. H owever, i t do es
mean t hat H eidegger’s p olemic a rises f rom a n eed a nd a f rustration a t
the heart of his own thinking.
If at this point I may insert two critical comments, the first w ould
be that Derrida’s analysis does not do justice to the Diltheyan, Schelerian,
and e ven L eibnizian b ackground t o t he q uestion o f lif e, lif e‑force, a nd
animality; i t t hus mi sses s omething o f t he cen trality o f t his p articular
thread, t hat o f lif e‑philosophy, in t he t apestry. A s econd difficulty w ith
Derrida’s a nalysis h ere, in m y v iew, i s t hat i t b egins b y a nticipating t he
“raising o f t he c urtain” o n Geist in 1933–35. D errida p rojects t he p roc‑
lamation f rom t he y ear 1935, “ Welt ist geistige Welt. Das Tier hat keine
Welt, auch keine Umwelt” (EM 34), b ack onto the 1929–30 le ctures. That
the a nimal h as n o w orld, o r h as‑it‑in‑not‑having‑it, o r i s p oor in w orld,
Of Spirit 83
would acco rding t o D errida a mount t o s aying t hat t he a nimal i s p oor

in s pirit. World‑poverty w ould b e s piritual p overty. W hile I b elieve t hat
Heidegger’s t hought do es b etray t his t endency, a nd a m t herefore w holly
in accord w ith t he essential t hrust of t he analysis, I b elieve it is essential
not t o co nfuse 1929 w ith 1935. The v ery p oignancy of Heidegger’s le c‑
tures on animal life derives from the fact that there he does not appeal to
spirit. There, a s in Being and Time, it i s a m atter o f avoiding Geist, even
when it s eems most appropriate (f rom an ontotheological p oint of v iew)
to introduce it. As far as I c an see, Heidegger does not in 1929–30 in tro‑
duce the word even negatively, in s care quotes; he opposes the use of the
words Seele and Bewußtsein in his discussion of animality, but leaves Geist
altogether out of account. Now, it is precisely Derrida who teaches us the
importance o f o bserving s crupulously t he u se o r n onuse o f t he geistigen
vocabulary, and such scrupulous care is called for especially here: when at
the end of his 1929–30 co urse Heidegger t ries to define t he human re la‑
tion t o i ts w orld a s Weltbildung, he en gages in a lo ng a nalysis o f s peech
as apophantic discourse, of t he “as” t hat introduces human b eings to t he
realm of essences (the rock as rock, sunlight as sunlight, lizard as lizard);
yet h e n ever appeals t o t he Geist that in c lassical m etaphysical di scourse
seemed to gu arantee access to t hat realm. It is precisely in t he avoidance
of t he w ord t hat o ne s enses t he h overing H egelian s pirit, n ot s o m uch
waiting in t he wings as suspended in t he machinery located above center
stage, t he m achinery l abeled Gattung, understood a s ei ther “ genus” o r
“species.” W hat H eidegger do es in troduce in t he final p art o f hi s co urse
are the following notions, each designed to specify the human relation to
the w orld a nd t o ex clude t he a nimal f rom i t: f reedom, o penness t o t he
world (Weltoffenheit) and the ruling sway of the world (Walten der Welt),
the difference (Unterschied) b etween b eing and b eings, the confrontation
or en countering “h old” t hat i s es tablished b etween h uman b eings a nd
all o ther b eings ( Entgegengehaltenheit), a nd t he p roject a nd p rojection
(Entwurf) of being into beings that constitutes a h uman life. None of this
appeals overtly to Geist, to either geistigen or geistlichen matters.
Not t hat H eidegger’s a nalysis a voids a ll t he p itfalls. I f Weltoffen‑
heit characterizes humanity, s ays H eidegger, Weltoffensein character‑
izes a nimality. Y et h ow do es -sein differ f rom -heit, in deed in s uch a
way t hat H eidegger c an b e a ssured t hat a n “ abyss o f es sence” s eparates
human beings from animals? Precisely in this non‑naming of Geist the
spirit o f m etaphysics (o nce a gain, t he o bjective a nd s ubjective g enitive)
returns. Heidegger tries to reduce the Offensein of animality to its enclo‑
sure w ithin a r ing o f di sinhibitions, a n en closure o f p assive s ubjections
and preprogrammed r esponses ( Hingenommensein, Eingenommensein), a

closed circle of benumbed behavior (Benommensein). Yet the circle is con‑
tinually undone, the ring repeatedly shattered, by something like time, and
something v ery m uch li ke death. D errida’s c ase i s m ade a ll t he s tronger
if w e in sist o n p rolonging—as H eidegger do es—the a voidance o f s pirit.
Heidegger’s effort to distinguish the world‑relations of humanity and ani‑
mality is fundamentally aporetic: it is, as Derrida says, and will repeat in
his 1997–98 The Animal That Therefore I Am, “nonplussed” b y t he “ ver‑
tiginous” q uestion o f w orld; t he in tention o f H eidegger’s “ comparative”
method i s n ot t o b elittle s tones a nd m ock a nimals b ut t o s how t hat t he
concept of world is fundamentally obscure (A 212; AO 90). By reintroduc‑
ing t he n otions o f lack or privation, the v ery n otions t hat h e em ployed
in o rder t o s ubordinate t he p roblem o f “ just‑plain‑life” ( Nur‑noch‑leben)
in Being and Time (SZ 50), H eidegger r everts w illy‑nilly t o t he s tandard
of Dasein. Although Derrida does not state the matter as baldly as I will
here, I b elieve h e w ould a gree t hat t he v ery effort t o define t he singu‑
lar difference between h umanity a nd a nimality in evitably o bfuscates t he
proto‑ontological and ontological differences. I w ould s tress fa r m ore t han
he does the fact that Heidegger uses the very same word to describe
the w orld‑relation of a nimals a nd the a ppropriate co mportment t oward
being t hat c haracterizes D asein: if t he liza rd s unning i tself o n a r ock i s
benumbed ( benommen), s o i s D asein, n ot o nly w hen i t s uccumbs t o t he
world’s di stractions a nd g oes s unbathing b ut a lso p recisely w hen i t co n‑
fronts the uncanniness of its own mortal existence in anxiety. Appropriate
Dasein, rapt to the ownmost possibility of its existence, is an animal.3
Here p erhaps i s w here t he g host o f m etaphysics des cends in o rder
to haunt, not merely as a r eturn of Hegelian spirit but as an epiphany of
the spirit—dare one say the daimon?—that captivated Heidegger through‑
out hi s life. The nothing invades animal life and di srupts t he r ing. D eath
shatters t hat r ing a nd sig nals t he wa y in w hich t ime—or t he marking of
time—always bears a fundamental relation to the animal’s life. The animal
is thrown or cast into its life and is projected toward its death as no stone
is e ver t hrown; t he effects o f t hat invasion, di sruption, a nd s hattering o f
the ring by (something like) the nothing are felt also at the center of the
vital s phere o f D asein. That s phere a nd t he r ing o f a nimality s uddenly
become co extensive, if o nly f or a ἀe eting in stant. I f H eidegger r eturns
3. Allow me to refer t he reader to chapter 4 o f Derrida and Our Animal Others, which focuses
on the uncanny aspects of Heidegger’s treatment of Benommenheit (AO 107–109).
Of Spirit 85
to hi s b ugs a nd hi s b ees, apparently co nfident t hat t he w orld o f human‑

kind will prove to be essentially different, just as Hegel was confident
that spirit would assume essentially higher f orms; if, in o ther words, the
“troubling affinities” between Heidegger and Hegel, or between Heidegger
and t he o ntotheological t radition a s a w hole o n t he q uestion o f a nimal‑
ity, co ntinue t o p lague u s, i t r emains t he c ase t hat t he d aimonic, w hich
Heidegger in 1928 iden tified as τὸ δ αιµόνιον, combines for Heidegger in
mysterious ways t he m atters of g odhead, animality, fac tical life, embodi‑
ment, s exuality, and t he abyss of anxiety. D errida more t han anyone else
would wa nt u s t o r ecall t he n ote f rom t he 1928 log ic co urse (26:211n.)
that w eaves a co mplex t apestry w ith t he t hemes o f s emination a nd di s‑
semination (Streuung, Zerstreuung), the overpowering (das Übermächtige),
the holy and divine (Heiligkeit, das Göttliche), the realm of the “daimonic,”
the n othing, a nd a nxiety. Whereas D errida s tresses t hroughout Of Spirit
that s pirit i s a ga thering in to a unif ying o ne ( Versammlung), the a uthor
of Geschlecht I would want us to acknowledge Heidegger’s insight during
the p eriod 1928–30 t hat t ranscendence i s, if n ot dissemination, then a t
least bestrewal into factical concretion, embodiment, spatiality, and (some‑
thing li ke) s exuality (26:173). S emination a nd di ssemination, b estrewal
and di straction, Streuung and Zer‑streuung alike, are t herefore a lso “ of
spirit.” I nsofar a s Geist is d aimonic, i t i s n o les s di sseminative t han i t i s
gathering. It ἀickers like a ἀame.
This em endation o r q ualification o f min e do es n ot c ause Of Spirit
to t remble, m uch les s t o s hatter, b ut i t do es p erhaps s uggest t hat D er‑
rida’s Geschlecht project r emains t he m ore radic al o ne, t he p roject in to
which Of Spirit must b e in serted. Hence m y co nviction—one o f t he f ew
of which I am possessed in this regard—that Derrida’s Geschlecht project
must somehow continue. And it ought to continue, I believe, not only with
an im agined di alogue b etween H eidegger a nd t he t heologians b ut a lso
with t he a lready ini tiated n egotiations b etween si sters a nd b rothers a nd
among lo vers. “ Negotiations” i s o f co urse n ot t he r ight w ord. A m edita‑
tion both intense and tender, rather, on Georg Trakl’s magnetizing poetry.
Toward t he en d o f c hapter 6, D errida’s t hreads t wist t ogether t o
form several very tight knots. The animal (thread 3) l acks both the expe‑
rience a nd t he l anguage o f t he as such, the l anguage o f es sence (t hread
2); l acking l anguage, t he liza rd p oses n o questions about t he r ock acr oss
which i t s tretches (t hread 1); i t i s a s t hough o ne m ust cr oss t hrough
(durchstreichen) t he w ord rock for t he liza rd, j ust a s t he w ord Sein will
have to b e crossed t hrough for “man,” a s one confronts t he epochality of
the g ranting in Ereignis or propriation (t hread 4). These k nots, t ied e ven
before 1933–35, w ill do ubtless h ave p rofound political consequences; y et

they will be u tterly equivocal consequences. To distinguish Dasein from
animality mig ht o f co urse b e t aken a s t he v ery b est m eans o f r efuting
the prevalent biologistic a nd raci st ide ologies, but t hat di stinguishing, in
Heidegger’s c ase, i s a imed a t le ast a s m uch a gainst R ilke, w ho p oetizes
animality a s a n o pening o nto b eing. S uch di stinguishing r ests in fac t o n
the most t raditional s orts of teleological humanisms, on hierarchizations
and e valuations t hat a re b oth h umane a nd a ll t oo h uman. D errida i s
therefore t roubled b y t he co mplicity a nd t he co ntamination t hat p revail
between humanistic and raci st di scourses, “the t errifying m echanisms of
this program, all the double constraints that structure it” (DE 87/56).
Yet t his le ads u s t o em phasize o nce a gain a p articular p oint a bout
chapter 6, t he m ost im portant p oint w ith a v iew t o Geschlecht, and o ne
that w ill dem and our attention in t he l ater chapters of t he present b ook.
Derrida c arefully n otes w hat o thers w ould t ake t o b e a min or e quivoca‑
tion o r in consistency in H eidegger’s v ocabulary. H e o bserves t hat f rom
the outset of the rectorate address Heidegger stresses—that is, sets in italic
type—the w ord geistig. That i s t he v ery w ord t hat in 1953 h e w ill s ay i s
tainted by the Platonico‑Christian tradition, the word that therefore Trakl
bypasses, choosing instead the presumably uncontaminated word geistlich.
Yet in 1933 i t i s t he w ord geistig that i s s aid t o b e not co ntaminated b y
“the later Christian theological interpretation of the world.” Is this simply
an in consistency o f v ocabulary, n ot un like t he a pparent co nfusion o ver
the word Benommenheit, “benumbedness,” in 1927 and 1929–30? Or is
the confusion surrounding geistig, geistlich, and Geist what one mig ht b e
tempted to call Heidegger’s “unthought”?
After h aving lo oped b ack in t ime t o t he 1929–30 le ctures o n a ni‑
mality, Derrida returns in c hapter 7 o f De l’esprit to the political scene of
1933–35, t he s cene n ot o f w orld‑poverty b ut o f w orld‑darkening, Welt‑
verdüsterung. He ci tes a lo ng p assage f rom Introduction to Metaphysics
(EM 34–35) on the misinterpretation, debilitation, deposition, disempow‑
erment, or disenfranchisement (Entmachtung) of Geist. In one of the most
controversial de velopments o f hi s t ext Derrida compares t hese fa mous
pages with less well‑known passages from other authors. He cites Husserl’s
attempt to define “European h umanity” in terms o f its “spiritual mean‑
ing”: s piritual E urope in cludes t he En glish D ominions a nd t he U nited
States, b ut ex cludes t he E skimos a nd o ther N ative A mericans, “ who a re
on sides how di splay a t t he fa irs [ Indianer der Jahrmarktsmenagerien].”
A Jahrmarkt is a fa ir o r t raveling s how, a Menagerie a n a nimal o r s ome
sort o f sides how. H usserl a lso ex cludes “ the g ypsies w ho a re co nstantly
Of Spirit 87
roving about Europe [ die dauernd in Europa herumvagabundieren].” This

“sinister p assage,” co mments D errida, a ppears in a p ublic le cture de liv‑
ered in V ienna in 1935, o nly a f ew y ears prior t o t he Anschluss. D errida
also ci tes a t len gth P aul V aléry’s Variété as a n ex emplary t ext f or t he
era 1919–1939, in w hich di scourses o n “ Europe” a nd “ Spirit” a bound.
His purpose is not to reduce the differences in the situations of Husserl,
Heidegger, Valéry, a nd t he o thers. (On e t hinks o f a ll t he di scourses o n
Geist in t he Weimar y ears, co mmencing w ith t hose o f t he M ann b roth‑
ers a nd t he S tefan G eorge Cir cle, c ulminating in t he di scourses o f t he
Jungkonservativen, all of them represented so devastatingly well in R obert
Musil’s Der Mann ohne Eigenschaften). Yet in t he en d D errida do es n ot
shy from posing the questions “Which is worse?” and “Where do w e find
the worst? ” (DE 96 n. 2/122 n. 1).
It i s difficult t o do j ustice t o t hese a nalyses, a s r ich a nd n uanced
as t hey a re p rovocative, in asmuch a s t he b readth o f m aterial o n w hich
they draw (materials assembled in a nd for the seminar on “Philosophical
Nationality a nd N ationalism”) s tretches fa r b eyond m y co mpetence o r
that o f a nyone I k now. I n p articular, D errida’s in sightful co mparison o f
Heidegger, Husserl, and Valéry as three thinkers of the “European spirit” is
(for me) an entire education. However, I do wish to add one complication
to D errida’s di scussion o f “ the dem onic” in Introduction to Metaphysics
(EM 35). I t i s n ot en ough t o co ntrast H eidegger’s das Dämonische and
diese Dämonie to the malin génie of Descartes, even though Derrida shows
brilliantly that the Cartesian cogito and the hegemony of the subiectum in
French rationalism and idealism are precisely the evil spirit in Heidegger’s
history o f b eing. I n m y v iew, i t w ould a lso b e n ecessary t o r elate t he
demonic t o t he daimonic (o f H eidegger’s 1928 M arburg le cture co urse),
of which, I s uspect, it is a m onstrous mutant. In other words, when Hei‑
degger in the mid‑1930s and early 1940s refers to the demonic in terms of
Spengler’s predator (Raubtier) or to the violence of intra‑European conἀict
in t he ep och of s pirit’s de bility, t his h as direct implications f or t he q ues‑
tions of both animality and theology: Dämonie/daimonion may well be the
royal road t o esprit as Geist and revenant, spirit a nd g houl a like. “Spirit”
would then be the carrier of all that is most divine and most bestial in the
human b eing, “ bestial” o f co urse h aving n othing t o do w ith t he a nimal,
which i s n ot c apable o f b estiality o r e vil o f a ny k ind. D errida i s r ight t o
recognize h ere t races o f t he p roblem o f e vil in S chelling’s p hilosophy o f
the Indifferent, to which we will turn in a moment.
Derrida’s trenchant analysis of the “four misinterpretations of spirit”
in An Introduction to Metaphysics (EM 35–37; DE 103–105/64–65) m erits
careful r eading, b ut h ere I w ill em phasize w hat s eems t o b e t he c ardi‑

nal p oint. That t he w orld i s g oing t o g loom a nd do om ( Weltverdüster‑
ung) and spirit to disempowerment (Entmachtung des Geistes) Heidegger
takes t o b e dem onstrated b y f our p henomena t hat h e s ees do minating
everything “ European,” t hat i s t o s ay, a ll t hat i s c aught in t he p incers
of p ragmatic‑positivistic “ America” a nd B olshevik “ Russia”: first, Geist
is r educed t o Verständigkeit, the c apacity t o c alculate b y v irtue o f o ne’s
high I Q; s econd, I Q b ecomes a m ere t ool a t t he s ervice o f t he m aterial
and s ocial f orces o f p roduction, a t ool em ployed in e ducation, aes thetic
experience, co mpetitive s ports, p opular c ulture, a nd s o o n; t hird, p oetry
and t he fine a rts, r eligion, s cience, a nd p olitics a ll s ubmit t o t he r ealm
of calculative planning; fourth, everything is reduced to a national “cul‑
ture” and becomes material for propaganda. All that seems clear enough,
dark en ough. Yet H eidegger’s l ament co ncerning t he “ darkening o f t he
world” and the “disempowering of spirit” is fundamentally ambiguous. For
that very darkening and disempowering reveal that spirit as such is b oth
powerful a nd im potent. S pirit i s o f s upreme va lue—otherwise w hy t he
lament? —and y et i s s upremely vu lnerable. N othing c an b e w eightier o r
more essential than spirit, and yet spirit allows itself to be disenfranchised
and i ts w orld t o b e dimini shed o r e ven de vastated. S pirit i s e verything,
but i t co mes t o n othing. A nd t his co ming t o n othing appears to develop
from within, impelled by s ome un accountable fifth co lumn w ithin s pirit.
The a mbiguity o r a mbivalence o f s pirit, w hich s eems t o b e h aunted b y
the inevitability of its own demi se, constitutes t he entire drama of spirit,
the raising of t he c urtain, t he ἀ ash of b linding f ootlights, a nd t he bright
white s potlight o n “ the cen ter o f E urope,” t o w it, G ermany: o ur n ation,
says Heidegger, will have to assume its historic mission as the midpoint of
the West (EM 38: Übernehmen der geschichtlichen Sendung unseres Volkes
der abendländischen Mitte). D errida’s a nalysis o f t hat mi ssion, t he mi s‑
sion of “our people” and “our language,” is one of the most powerful and
subtle o f De l’esprit. Most p owerful b ecause i t di splays t he in explicable
mystery o f a s pirit t hat i s b oth t he p ower o f a ll p owers a nd t he h elpless
victim o f t he vu lgar f orces t hat r educe i ts p ower t o im potence. This i s
surely r elated t o t he p aradox o f a t ranscendentally p owerful b estrewal—
for exa mple, in to em bodiment a nd s exuality—that r esults in di spersion,
distraction, and perhaps even discord. Later on in hi s career Derrida will
refer to such a m ystery as auto‑immunity. For the fatal “misinterpretation
of spirit,” to repeat, is performed by nothing other than spirit itself, which
is both untouchable and eminently fragile. Valéry would say that Hamlet’s
ghost h aunts a ll o f E urope, a nd t hat t he E uropean s pirit a mounts t o a
Of Spirit 89
heap o f a shes. I f s pirit h as demons a nd i s c apable, a s Heidegger s ays, o f

“destructive malevolence” (EM 35), t hose demons are themselves of spirit.
They w ould n ot b e D escartes’s malin génie, who i s s o r eadily o vercome
by a m ere f eint o f fa ith, n amely, t rust in t he g oodness o f a n un deceiv‑
ing Cr eator. R ather, t hey w ould b e f orces o f t errible de vastation, f orces
of demonic power. Yet a s L ucifer i s t he b rightest o f t he b right lig hts, s o
is t he dem onic es sentially “ spiritual,” w hatever t hat m ay p ortend. S pirit
is h aunted b y t he p hantom o f t he “other,” a nd y et s pirit i tself do es t he
haunting. For this “other” is internal to it, “intestinal,” as Derrida says.
It is at this point that we find in c hapter 7 o f De l’esprit some antici‑
pations of, or perhaps reἀections back upon, the Heidegger‑Trakl dialogue
of 1953. Derrida writes:
When Heidegger names the demonic (EM 35), he specifies, in a

brief parenthesis, demonic in the sense of destructive malignity
(im Sinne des zerstörerisch Bösartigen). The spiritual essence
of e vil. S ome o f H eidegger’s f ormulations h ere a re li terally
Schellingian. We s hall m eet t hem a gain in t he t ext o n Trakl
which in cludes a t i ts cen ter a t hinking o f e vil a s t orment of
spirit. The “spiritual night,” or the “spiritual (geistliche) twilight”
(expressions of Trakl’s that Heidegger will want to remove from
the m etaphysics o f Geistigkeit as w ell a s f rom t he C hristian
value o f Geistlichkeit—a w ord t hat w ill i tself t hus find i tself
doubled) a re n ot w ithout t heir p rofound r elationship w ith
what i s s aid t wenty y ears e arlier o f t he d arkening o f w orld
and s pirit. I n t he s ame wa y, t he Entmachtung of s pirit i s n ot
without r elationship, in t he Introduction to Metaphysics, with
the decomposition of man, or rather—we shall come to this—
with the “verwesenden Geschlecht,” the O des Menschen verweste
Gestalt of Trakl as Heidegger will interpret it in Unterwegs zur
Sprache. (DE 102/63)
Derrida h ere ci tes Heidegger’s ci tation o f Trakl’s “Siebengesang des

Todes” (see Appendix A). On e can—and Heidegger certainly does—trace
an en tire ra nge o f s uch p hrases in T rakl’s p oetry: in “ Dream a nd D elu‑
sion” Trakl invokes “the curse of the degenerate Geschlecht,” der Fluch des
entarteten Geschlechts; the t hird section o f t hat same p rose p oem b egins
with the apostrophe, O des verfluchten Geschlechts, “Oh, t he accursed
Geschlecht,” a nd en ds w ith t he fa lling o f nig ht, die Nacht das verfluchte
Geschlecht verschlang, “the night devoured the accursed Geschlecht”
(T 80–83). Cr ucial t o H eidegger’s a nalysis o f t he “curse,” a s w e w ill s ee,

is t he v ery Schlag of Geschlecht, that i s, t he “stroke” o r “ blow” b y w hich
humanity i s bifurcated into m ale and female—which, however, i s merely
a “ coinage,” m erely a di vision in to a “ twofold,” n ot i tself a c urse—and
then a second stroke o r b low b y w hich t he b ifurcation b ecomes di scord,
dissension, war, a nd radical evil. This p art o f the dra ma unf olds in t he
1953 Trakl interpretation, which is at the center of Derrida’s Geschlecht III.
One last aspect of chapter 7 of De l’esprit merits our attention. If the
center of Europe is dominated by “our nation,” that is, Germany, and if
the task of “our nation” is to resist the gloom and revivify the spirit, that
can o nly h appen in “ our l anguage.” W hat w ill r emain in f orce t hrough‑
out H eidegger’s c areer i s hi s co nfidence t hat G erman a nd G reek a re t he
two “spiritual” l anguages of t he O ccident, w ith G erman e ventually g iven
the e dge. The proximity of t he t wo c annot result simply f rom t he g ram‑
mar a nd sy ntax o f G erman, w hich w ere f ormed d uring t he p eriod o f
classic h umanism, t he h umanism o f Era smus, w hich t urned t o c lassical
Latin a nd G reek f or i ts m odels. It m ay simply b e t hat Heidegger i s co n‑
vinced by t he examples of Hölderlin and S chleiermacher—by Hölderlin’s
extraordinary “ translations” o f P indar a nd S ophocles a nd b y S chleier
macher’s unsurpassed renderings of the Platonic dialogues—in whom and
in w hich t he simi larity o f w ord o rder a nd sy ntax in G erman a nd G reek
does suggest that the two languages at least can be intimately r elated.
Nor w ould D errida w ish t o den y t his. Yet w hat h e s hows i s t hat s everal
kinds o f di ssymmetry o perate w ithin H eidegger’s co nfidence. Fir st, H ei‑
degger makes his claim in German; Sophocles would never have done
so. Indeed, to say the obvious, it would have been difficult for him t o do
so. H eidegger, t he t hinker o f ep ochality, w ould h ave t o m editate o n t his
obvious h appenstance. H eidegger r emarks t o t he e ditors o f Der Spiegel,
apparently in a ll s eriousness a nd in a ll inn ocence, t hat w hen hi s F rench
friends try to think, they confess to him, Heidegger, with whom they are
surely s peaking G erman, t hat t hey must think in German. Their F rench
fails t hem, a s i t fa ils H eidegger, a lthough f or different r easons. D errida
remarks upon the witlessness of Heidegger’s remark, its lack of esprit, and
observes t hat t he t heme “of s pirit” i s a t o ne a nd t he s ame t ime t erribly
serious a nd q uite dr oll: t here a re m oments w hen o ne do es n ot k now
whether t o w eep or l augh. Heidegger’s i s n ot m erely a E urocentrism b ut
a C entro‑Euro‑Centrism. Of course, if Geist, Sein, and Denken are all
untranslatable words—and much testifies to this—then every French phi‑
losopher w ill have t o t hink t hem in G erman, at le ast s ome d ays o f t he
week. Some difficult days of the week.
Of Spirit 91
A second dissymmetry has to do w ith the Trakl interpretation. For,

to repeat, in 1953 Heidegger will insist that Trakl’s use of the word geistlich,
rather than geistig, indicates that the latter word (which was the word he
used co nsistently in t he 1930s) c annot s hake i ts P latonic‑Christian h eri‑
tage, whereas the word geistlich thinks spirit in a n as yet unheard‑of way.
In the 1930s Heidegger denies that the word geistig is contaminated by
the said tradition; in t he 1950s i t will have been so contaminated. At the
center o f t his o dd in consistency i s H eidegger’s c laim in t he 1953 T rakl
interpretation that only the German, and not the Greek language can point
to a radic ally n ontraditional s ense o f Geist. For “spirit,” o r, ra ther, Geist,
is not t he pneumatic, breath‑like s pirit o f the Gospels and o f the c las‑
sical G reek ψ υχή, b ut flame. Whereas in t he 1930s G erman a nd G reek
are t he t wo “ spiritual” l anguages, p recisely b ecause t hey a re “ not y et”
contaminated by Platonism and C hristianity, in t he 1950s t he Greek w ill
have s uccumbed t o co ntamination, le aving o nly G erman t o h arbor t he
ἀame of spirit.
It i s fa ir t o s ay t hat t he n egative t hesis o f D errida’s Of Spirit, to
the effect t hat H eidegger c annot b anish t he P latonic‑Christian spirit of
either hi s o r Trakl’s o euvre a s de cisively a s h e c laims h e c an, e ven w hen
he appeals to the word geistlich, is entirely convincing. All that needs to
be do ne i s t o “ ἀesh o ut” t his n egative t hesis, a nd t his i s p recisely w hat
occurs in t he 1984–85 “ Phantom o f t he O ther,” w hich w e w ill exa mine
in chapter 6 of the present volume.
Chapter 8 o f De l’esprit is p articularly difficult t o di scuss o r e ven
summarize: h ere D errida t ouches o n H eidegger’s r eadings o f N ietzsche,
Hölderlin, and Schelling—each of which could and should claim a chapter
or a t ome of its own. Derrida begins with the equivocal gesture by which
Heidegger seeks to rescue Nietzsche f rom a b iologism or racism that the
current in terpretations o f t he mid‑1930s are h appy t o a ttribute t o him.
Derrida w onders w hether H eidegger’s in sistence t hat N ietzsche es chews
biologism, raci sm, a nd a ll f orms o f “ naturalism” in o rder t o de velop a
“metaphysical” interpretation of race is any less grave in its consequences
than t he t hings i t a voids, n amely, t he “ biologism” o f race . H e h olds t he
question “in suspense,” taking up a second aspect of Heidegger’s Nietzsche
interpretation. F or H eidegger a lso em phasizes N ietzsche’s os tensible
adherence t o m etaphysics, precisely in hi s emphasis on t he human b ody
over spirit, t he human b ody as t he locus o f will to p ower. At t he end o f
the history of metaphysics, according to Heidegger, Nietzsche announces
that homo brutum bestiale est, and t hat t he l ast w ord f or h umanity i s
brutalitas (N II: 200; DE 118/73).
The relation of Geist to Seele, as discussed in H eidegger’s Nietzsche,

especially Heidegger’s opposition to Ludwig Klages, leads Derrida to Hei‑
degger’s lecture course on Hölderlin’s Der Ister in 1942. I n the context of
Hölderlin’s Stromdichtungen, o r “ river p oems,” H eidegger (53:157) ci tes
lines that define Geist as a “spirit” that “is at home / not in t he beginning,
not a t t he s ource.” W hatever differences t here m ay b e b etween t hinker
and p oet, H ölderlin t he p oet in vokes (in H eidegger’s v iew) t he s pirit o f
gathering, the gathering of a historical community. The reading of Geist in
Hölderlin is thus continuous with Heidegger’s 1936 lectures on Schelling’s
1809 t reatise On Human Freedom, in w hich H eidegger defines Geist as
“originally unifying unity,” a unity that encompasses the poles of existence
and g round in t he es sence o f G od. “As s uch a uni ty, s pirit i s π νεῦµα”
(SCH 154). I n hi s S chelling le ctures, H eidegger em phasizes t he im por‑
tance o f S chelling’s r ecognition t hat s pirit a s pneuma is n ot t he hig hest;
the highest, ra ther, i s love, die Liebe, of w hich p neumatic s pirit i s t he
mere sigh, the sigh of yearning and languor, Sehnsucht. It is of course
precisely t his p neumatic in terpretation o f Geist that H eidegger w ill l ater
oppose in hi s 1953 T rakl interpretation, w hich interprets s pirit a s ἀ ame.
Derrida i s dra wn t o t his ἀ ame, a s i s H eidegger, p recisely b ecause o f t he
promise and the menace: if t he ἀame is die Liebe, such love will prove to
have two coinages, two imprints, two sets of results—one of which might
be c alled t he p romise o f a m ore g entle t wofold, t he s econd t he ra ge o f
unbridled malevolence.
Derrida himself is clear about the merely suggestive character of
this eighth chapter, which has but two aims: first, to exhibit the profound
continuity of H eidegger’s own discourse with that of German Idealism,
which is as much an invocation of fire and ἀame (in t he form of love) as
a t hought o f s pirit; a nd s econd, t o p ut in to q uestion t he b orderline t hat
Heidegger wishes to draw between an ontotheological, Platonic‑Christian
tradition of π νεῦµα a nd spiritus, on t he one h and, a nd a m ore originary
thought of Geist as Flamme, “fire” or “ἀame,” on t he other. What princi‑
pally co ncerns D errida h ere i s t he motif or t he “movement,” t he “trajec‑
tory” of Heidegger’s thinking, in t he direction of the Trakl interpretation.
Allow me to focus a moment longer on Heidegger’s desire to remove
Trakl from the “pneumatological” meaning of spirit in order to place him
in t he v icinity o f flame. Here, t o r epeat, in t he m ove f rom a p neumato‑
logical t o a p yrological un derstanding o f s pirit, S chelling i s t he es sential
mediator: “What he [Heidegger] names then in das Wehen (a word which
means breath but is never far from suffering or sighing, from the breath‑
less o r b reathless‑making ‘spiration’ o f s pirit) i s o nly t he b reath ( Hauch)
Of Spirit 93
or s piration o f w hat p roperly uni tes in t he m ost o riginary fa shion: lo ve”

(DE 123/77). D errida do es n ot co mment f urther o n t he m eaning o f das
Weh, which is hurt or pain, and which indeed is never far from suffering,
never far from both Leid and Schmerz. Die Wehen are the contractions or
pangs o f c hildbirth, o r, a s Wehungen, the sw ells a nd dr ifts of de ep sn ow
heaped b y the w inter wind. A nd when a p arent wa rns a child, Wehe
dir, wenn du . . . , there i s a p romise o f p unitive p ain. W hen D errida
translates Schelling’s Sehnsucht as mere “nostalgia” (DE 124–27/78–80), he
fails t o n ote s ufficiently t he radic ality of p ain a nd s uffering—the languor
and languishing—in the word.4 Derrida does report the proper etymology
of t he Sucht in Sehnsucht, which h as t o do w ith sic kness a nd ep idemic,
Seuche, rather than with suchen, “to search,” even though Schelling himself
commonly p lays w ith t he a mbiguity in Sucht between s eeking a nd s uc‑
cumbing to epidemic. Yet D errida s ays little in De l’esprit about t he p ain
and p angs of s pirit in t he s ense o f Sehnsucht. What in m y v iew t ends t o
rescue H eidegger’s t hinking o f s pirit as ἀ ame, a nd ἀ ame a s b oth g entle
ardor a nd co nsuming m alignancy, f rom t he hi story o f m etaphysics a nd
morals—if one may speak of “rescue” here—is that sense of pain, Schmerz,
toward which I was always “sending” Derrida.
Yet it is time to take up chapter 9 o f De l’esprit in some detail, inas‑
much a s h ere H eidegger’s Trakl in terpretation i s a t cen ter s tage. I n t he
margins of the Trakl chapter in m y own copy of De l’esprit, a chapter that
invokes the notion of promise—namely, the promise of a m ore matutinal
dawn a nd o f a m ore g entle co nἀuence o f t he t wofold—I find a s econd
set o f m arginal n otes. I s cribbled t hem in to t he m argins w herever a nd
whenever Derrida “promises” to t ake up Heidegger’s Trakl interpretation
once a gain e lsewhere “ with g reater p atience,” t hereby “ rendering g reater
justice” to the theme (DE 137, 178/86–87, 108). These marginalia of mine,
reminders to myself about Derrida’s promise, invariably refer to the sister
or t o “the f emininity o f t he s oul” in b oth Trakl’s p oetry a nd Heidegger’s
placement of it (DE 172/105).
By t he nin th chapter, i t becomes c lear that, s tructurally s peaking,
Of Spirit exhibits t he t wo m agnetic p oles t hat form t he force field of t he
Geschlecht series a s a w hole. The p ole o f lo ve a nd s exual difference i s
4. See Krell, The Tragic Absolute: German Idealism and the Languishing of God, which was
published more than a y ear after Derrida’s death. There are many references to Sehnsucht there,
especially w ith r egard t o S chelling, in c hapters 3–6, a nd t o Leiden, in H ölderlin’s “ Notes o n
Sophocles,” discussed in chapters 9–11. See, above all, TA 136–38.
never en tirely mi ssing f rom D errida’s b ook, a nd t he fa rther p ole—Hei‑

degger’s in terpretation o f T rakl—remains t he terminus ad quem of t he
whole. “What is spirit?” asks Derrida at the outset of chapter 9, r epeating
Heidegger’s own question in “Die Sprache im Gedicht” (US 59). The being
of spirit, according to D errida, do es not ce ase to o ccupy Heidegger after
1933, once the quotation marks have been removed from the word. Hei‑
degger’s final answer to the question, after twenty years have passed, years
not un touched b y fire, i s t hat Geist is ἀ ame, imm olation, co nἀagration.
That final a nswer h as m ore t o do w ith co mmencements t han w ith en ds,
however, when years themselves are spiriting, geistliche Jahre. If Derrida
ends his chapter by citing Heidegger’s text at length, it is merely to sum‑
marize the detailed reading that the chapter will already have developed.
Perhaps it would serve to begin by citing this passage from “Language in
the Poem” (US 59–60), adducing Derrida’s inserted comments at the end.
In the second part of his tripartite Trakl essay, Heidegger writes:
Yet what is spirit? In his final poem, “Grodek,” Trakl speaks of

“the hot ἀame of spirit” (T 94). Spirit is enἀaming, and perhaps
only in t his way is it an afflatus [Der Geist ist das Flammende
und erst als dieses vielleicht ein Wehendes]. Trakl does not first
of a ll un derstand s pirit a s p neuma, o r a s s piritual [ spirituell];
rather, he understands it as ἀame that enἀames, rouses, rages,
discomposes. Flaming is ardent illumination. What enἀames is
outside‑itself, c learing a nd b ringing t o s hine, w hich h owever
can eat away at things and devour them to the pallor of ash.
“Flame i s b rother t o t he m ost p allid [ Flamme ist des
Bleichsten Bruder],” s ays t he p oem “ Metamorphosis o f E vil”
(T 55). T rakl s ees “ spirit” o n t he b asis o f t he es sence t hat i s
named in t he o riginal m eaning o f t he w ord Geist: for gheis
designates w hat i s inf uriated, o utraged, o utside i tself [ aufge‑
bracht, entsetzt, ausser sich sein].
Derrida notes that das Flammende suggests both that spirit enἀames,
causing something else to burn, and is itself aἀame, l’esprit en flamme. He
notes f urther t hat t he L atinate word spirituell is quite rare in H eidegger’s
works; it i s s urely o ne o f t hose s outherly w ords t hat he w ishes to a void.
Why? B ecause it is preeminently understood as das Wehende, that which
wafts, blowing in t he wind of the pneumatic Platonic‑Christian tradition.
Concerning t he “ enἀaming” ( Flamme, die entflammt) o f s pirit D errida
notes t hat i t i s p roper t o s pirit t hat i t burn: ἀ ame is s pontaneous a nd
Of Spirit 95
auto‑affective co mbustion, n eeding n othing o utside i tself t o g ive o r t ake

fire, to catch fire or pass it on to another. When we recall from Geschlecht
II the singular hand that grants o r gives, one might say that spirit is
two‑handed, b oth di spensing fire a nd c laiming i t f or i tself. S pirit i s a t
all e vents e cstatic, a nd w e mig ht t hink b ack t o t he ra ptures o f e cstatic
temporality: spirit is the outside‑itself in‑and‑for‑itself (IM 54). I t will
therefore n ot b e s urprising t o find H eidegger a ssociating s pirit w ith t he
passing of time and the diurnal journey o f the sun—and Trakl’s poetry
will g ive many o ccasions to associate spirit and t ime in t his way. Finally,
Derrida comments on Heidegger’s admission that ἀame burns for good or
for ill. It lights and heats, but it also consumes, rages, calcinates. Spirit as
ἀame s tarts o r ra ises t he a nimal o ut o f i ts l air, i t c auses t hings t o m ove,
and it even outrages them, destroying all composure.
Derrida insists that the definition of spirit as ἀame is a p ronounce‑
ment (énoncé) by H eidegger, an endorsement or sig ning by Heidegger
himself, e ven if T rakl’s verses should a ppear t o in duce t he p ronounce‑
ment. Twice in his discussion (DE 137/86–87, 178/108), Derrida explicitly
promises t o co ntinue hi s s tudy o f t he Trakl es say, a nd t o r eturn t o i t in
later writings of his own. Because one wants to hold him t o that promise,
hold him t o i t e ven in t he c lear e vidence o f hi s a bsence, I p resent t he
earlier, more detailed pledge here:
This Erörterung [“placement”] of Trakl’s Gedicht is, it seems to

me, o ne o f H eidegger’s r ichest t exts: s ubtle, o verdetermined,
more untranslatable than ever. And of course one of the most
problematic. W ith a v iolence I c an n either di ssimulate n or
assume, I s hall s et a bout ext racting f rom i t t he s pecter t hat
responds t o t he n ames a nd a ttributes o f s pirit ( Geist, geistig,
geistlich). Because I shall continue to study this text elsewhere,
with a p atience that is more decent, I h ope to be able one day
to r ender j ustice t o i t (b eyond t he s cope t hat t his co nference
today allows me), by analyzing its gesture, its mode, or its status
(if in deed i t h as o ne), i ts r elation t o p hilosophical di scourse,
hermeneutics, or poetics; but also by analyzing what it says
about Geschlecht, about t he w ord Geschlecht, and a lso a bout
place (Ort), as well as animality. For the moment, I shall pursue
only the passage of spirit [le passage de l’esprit].
It i s D errida’s p romise t o r eturn t o H eidegger’s T rakl es say t hat

accounts for the structure of the present book, that is, the fact that
Geschlecht III is co nsidered o nly a fter t he Geschlecht series i s b rought t o

its a pparent co nclusion in Of Spirit and Geschlecht IV. Spirit i s a ll a bout
return to an origin prior to all origins, all about the revenir of the revenant,
the phantom of the other.
One mig ht o bject t hat n ot s pirit b ut soul dominates H eidegger’s
Trakl essay, which responds to Trakl’s line, Es ist die Seele ein Fremdes auf
Erden, “Something strange is the soul on earth.” Yet what arouses Derrida’s
suspicions m ost i s H eidegger’s effort i s t o r esist t he “ Platonic‑Christian”
understanding of “soul” in terms of the “vale of tears” tradition: the “soul”
of Trakl’s “Springtime of the Soul” seeks the earth, says Heidegger, is under
way toward it. Not only Seele, however, but also Geist is introduced in that
same poem in the phrase Geistlich dämmert, dawn rises, or dusk descends
(it is almost always impossible to say which) “spiritually,” “spiritingly.” It is
such “spiriting” that fascinates Derrida. Heidegger refers to the “essential
essential-unfolding” (US 47: wesentlichen Wesens) of this twilight. The
doubling of Wesen recalls Derrida’s second thread: Heidegger everywhere
insists that his conversation with Trakl, however humble the thinker takes
himself t o b e, t ouches o n the essentials. In addi tion t o t he s cene o f t wi‑
light, whether as the dusk of e vening or the dawn of day, geistlich is a lso
attributed to two other moments, namely, “night” and “year.” The latter is
especially important for Heidegger’s reading of Trakl: he t races t he word
year in t he phrase das geistliche Jahr to ier, ἰέναι, gehen: to go or to pass,
in t he s ense o f p assing b y. S uch p assage ( gehen, Gang) mig ht w ell h ave
reminded D errida, him self t he author of t he h eliotropic “ White Mythol‑
ogy,” of the passage of “the wandering sun” in Being and Time, a p assage
that i s cr ucial f or t he spacing of t ime in H eidegger’s exi stential a nalytic.
The burning sun, which dispenses light and heat and divides the day from
the night, wanders across the sky and so grants the four principal regions
of s pace. S uch wa ndering o ccurs p recisely in a “ nature” t hat i s n either
daseinsmäßig nor simply vorhanden but in a n altogether exceptional way
zuhanden, a wa y m ore t han m erely r eminiscent o f animality (SZ 70, 80,
103, 211, and 413), thus touching on the third of Derrida’s threads.
Derrida r efers b rieἀy t o hi s in terpretation o f t he t wo “ blows” o r
“strokes” o f Geschlecht, n amely, t he s troke t hat co ins h umankind in to
(1) t he duality and (2) t he discord o f t he t wo s exes. H e p roceeds t o t he
question o f t he d awn, die Frühe, the m orning b efore a ll m ornings, t he
archi‑origin and essence of primal, primaveral time, which in H eidegger’s
view co nstitutes t he future of h umankind. S uch t ime i s in H eidegger’s
estimation geistlich, not in a ny e cclesiastical s ense, b ut in t he s ense o f
a promise. It is a promise that seems to survive even death itself: Hei‑
Of Spirit 97
degger f ollows t he “ stranger” a nd “ brother,” E lis, H elian, a nd S ebastian,

the un canny figures t hat h aunt Trakl’s p oetry, p recisely a s a lready de ad
or n ot y et b orn. H ere D errida t akes u p a t heme t hat a ppears in a ll hi s
work of the 1990s, namely, that of the double‑yes or promise that in some
sense p recedes a ll q uestioning: p recisely a t t he p oint w here H eidegger
attempts “a more originary thinking of time” than that broached in Being
and Time, Derrida him self f ocuses o n t he “ more p romising” ( versprech‑
ender) p recedence that guides hi s o wn thinking. Here w e find o urselves
very c lose to t he p rovocation, t he r egnant s pirit o r t utelary g enius, o f
De l’esprit, “the p romise t hat, o pening a ll s peech, r enders p ossible e ven
the question,  .  .  .  the asymmetry of an affirmation, of a yes prior to all
opposition o f yes an d no, . . . prior t o e very q uestion,” t he p romise t hat
would be “une promesse de l’esprit” (DE 147/94).
Derrida now inserts a remarkable footnote dedicated to Françoise
Dastur, whose discussions with Derrida at the University of Essex in 1986
sparked t he n ote. The long n ote, dominating eig ht p ages of De l’esprit, is
undeniably o ne o f t hose f ootnotes t hat w ould m erit c lose s crutiny, p er‑
haps e ven a “ note o n a n ote.” The n ote s tates t he b ook’s t hesis a nd t hen
goes on to identify a passage in Underway to Language that supports that
thesis. Finally, it poses a number of challenges to Heidegger’s thinking of
language a nd o f propriation, the r ecurrent t hemes o f hi s l ater t hought,
and calls for nothing less than an entirely new reading of Heidegger. The
note b egins b y co mmenting o n t he p riority o f t he Zusage or Zuspruch,
the assent, consent, affirmation, and address in all language, over and
above all questioning:
Well, then: prior to every question. It is precisely in this place

that t he “ question o f t he q uestion” vaci llates, t he q uestion
that h as h ounded u s f rom t he o utset. It vaci llates t he in stant
it i s n o lo nger a q uestion. N ot t hat i t i s s ubtracted f rom t he
unlimited leg itimacy o f q uestioning; ra ther, i t s lips in to t he
memory o f a l anguage, o f a n exp erience o f l anguage t hat i s
“older” t han t he q uestion, a lways a nterior a nd p resupposed,
so a ncient t hat i t n ever wa s p resent in a n “experience” o r a n
“act o f language”—in the c urrent s ense of t hese words. This
moment—which i s n ot a m oment—is marked in H eidegger’s
text. (DE 147 n. l/129 n. 5)
An exp erience t hat i s n ot a n “ experience,” a m oment t hat i s n o

moment, a p riority t hat i s a bsolute, “ the e arliest w ithout r eservation o r
qualification,” as Heidegger once said of the “ecstematic horizon” of tem‑

porality: Geist designates t he r eturn ( revenance) t o a b irth t hat s urvives
the de ath of t he “corrupt” or “decomposing” Geschlecht. Geist prevails in
an “earlier” that precedes all commencement. Such is Heidegger’s thought
of the granting, the Es gibt, developed in those pages of Underway to Lan‑
guage (US 174–76, 180–81) w here t he interrogation mark of questioning
is s uppressed o r a t le ast s ubordinated t o t he a ssent o f a nd t o l anguage;
the p iety o f t hinking (a s q uestioning) r ecedes in t he face o f w hat H ei‑
degger calls the Zusage or Zuspruch of language. The questioning attitude
depends on and responds to a prior address by language; it reἀects a readi‑
ness on the part of the addressee to hear and affirm what is to be thought.
Heidegger w rites: “What do w e exp erience w hen we consider t he matter
sufficiently? That q uestioning [ das Fragen] i s n ot t he appropriate g esture
of thinking [nicht die eigentliche Gebärde des Denkens]; rather, [the appro‑
priate g esture i s] h earing t he co nsent o f w hat i s t o co me in to q uestion
[sondern—das Hören der Zusage dessen, was in die Frage kommen soll]”
(US 175). I nterrogation i s n ot t he l ast w ord o f l anguage, e ven if in 1927
it was the character of Dasein as questioner that seemed to guarantee a
proper starting point for fundamental ontology. The Zusage is in Derrida’s
view the do uble yes t hat engages us in q uestioning w ithout n ecessarily
being s poken a loud o r w ritten exp licitly, a lthough i t a lways a nnounces
itself in a particular language; he calls it le gage, a forfeit, surety, guarantee,
assurance, pledge, or promise that engages thought. The forfeit paid to lan‑
guage i s n ot a p relinguistic o r m etalinguistic si lence, h owever. Q uite t he
reverse: i t i s en gagement in l anguage a nd r esponsibility t o i t. A sin gular
event, more than simply reminiscent o f the singulare tantum of Ereignis,
the pledge is more like the earliest stirrings (Regungen) of propriation
(Ereignis) in t he t elling si lences o f l anguage, “ an e vent t he m emory o f
which precedes all remembering [dont la mémoire devance tout souvenir]
and t o w hich w e a re b ound b y a fa ith t hat defies all t elling [ une foi qui
défie tout récit]” (DE 149/130). No erasure, no crossing‑through, is pos‑
sible h ere. H ere t he guidin g p ulsion o f de construction i tself a ppears t o
be stilled at least for a s piriting moment. There is no getting back behind
the forfeit t o l anguage. “ Aucune rature n’est pas possible pour un tel gage.
Aucun retour en arrière” (ibid).
I will not continue to comment on this remarkable note, which has
only just begun and which goes on to discuss the “turning” (only in order
to reject it as a strategy for interpreting Heidegger’s path of thought) and
a new topology for rereading Heidegger, a new series of tasks for thinking,
indeed, “a new order,” centering on i ssues of responsibility, indebtedness
Of Spirit 99
(Schuldigsein), resolve, r eliability, a ffirmation, p romise, a nd p ropriation.

Needless t o s ay, t here i s a g reat de al o f f uture in t his n ote, t he f uture o f
anyone who has ever read any of Heidegger’s texts with any care.
As D errida en ters in to t he final p hase o f De l’esprit, the f ourth o f
his threads of hesitation and perplexity, epochality, comes to predominate.
Heidegger insists that Trakl’s poetry stands outside the Platonic‑Christian
epoch, o utside t he χ ωρισµός o r ga p t hat os tensibly s eparates t he in tel‑
ligible f rom t he s ensible, b eyond t he de composed Geschlecht of on tothe‑
ology. D errida accuses Heidegger of a “ massive and g ross” r eduction of
that t radition (D E 55/95), a nd t ries t o r estore t he H eidegger‑Trakl di a‑
logue to the broader context of a co nversation with representatives of the
Judeo‑Christian t heological t radition(s). On e c an s ense t he n ecessity o f
such an attempt, and one marvels at Derrida’s dexterity in fashioning such
an imagined conversation. Yet one may ask whether Heidegger’s compel‑
ling need to extract Trakl from ontotheology is as gross and as caricatural
as D errida s uggests. I n m y e arlier a ttempts t o co nsider t his q uestion, in
Daimon Life and in l ater a rticles, I wa s m ore co nfident t han I a m n ow
about t he n ature o f H eidegger’s n eed. E arlier o n, i t s eemed t o m e t hat
Heidegger demands such extraction within a specific context of Trakl‑Rez‑
eption, which Derrida, for his part, ignores. Is not Heidegger responding
to the religiously committed Brenner‑circle, which is keen to gather Trakl
into t he Platonic‑Christian fold? Is Heidegger a cra ss de‑Christianizer of
Trakl, p recisely t his s ame H eidegger w ho sin ce hi s y outh i s s o fa tefully
and fa tally dra wn t o t he ἀ ame o f Geist? Or do es h e m anage t o g esture
toward a figure b eyond Geist, beyond spiritus, perhaps e ven b eyond t he
Hebraic ruah these w ords m ay b e t rying t o “ translate,” a s D errida s ays,
a figure a nd a “h aunting s hadow” t o w hich D errida him self i s dra wn?
Heidegger writes:
Whether, to what extent, and in what sense Trakl’s poetry speaks

in a Christian way; in what manner the poet was a “Christian”;
what “Christian,” “Christianity,” “Christendom,” the “Christian
character” mean here, or anywhere—all this encompasses essen‑
tial questions. However, our situating them hangs suspended
in empty space as long as the site of the poem has not been
located t houghtfully. F urthermore, si tuating t hem dem ands a
meditation for which neither the concepts of metaphysics nor
those of Church theology are adequate.
A judgment concerning the Christian character of Trakl’s
poem would above all have to consider his two final creations,
“Lament” a nd “ Grodek.” It w ould h ave t o a sk: W hy do es t he

poet h ere, in t he u ttermost n eed o f hi s final s aying, n ot c all
on G od a nd C hrist if h e i s s uch a de cided C hristian? W hy
instead does he designate “the haunting shadow of the sister,”
the sister as “the one who greets”? Why does the song end,
not w ith t he co nfident p rospect o f C hristian r edemption, b ut
with a n a llusion t o t he “ unborn g randchildren”? W hy do es
the sister also appear in t he other final poem, “Lament”? Why
is “eternity” h ere c alled “ the ic y wa ve”? I s t hat t hought in a
Christian way? It is not even Christian despair. (US 75–76)
Is H eidegger h ere o ffering a c aricature o f C hristianity? W e m ust

postpone t he r eply un til w e co nsider D errida’s 1984–85 s eminar, “ The
Phantom of the Other.” There Derrida engages in a ra ther harsh critique,
but he also responds to the sister, to the lunar voice, and to ice in w hat he
admits is Heidegger’s subtlest and most challenging text. For the moment
he i s p reoccupied b y fire a nd Geist. A t t he en d o f c hapter 9 h e ci tes
that long passage (US 59–60) with which we began, on spirit as ἀame,
ecstatically o utside i tself, g lowing a nd co nsuming a t o nce, b oth a b right
light a nd t he w hite p allor o f a shes. H ere H eidegger m oves b oldly b ack
behind t he p neumatic t radition t o t hat o f fire, a pparently n ot b y t urn‑
ing t o Em pedocles o r e ven t o H eraclitus b ut b y h aving r ecourse t o t he
resources o f t he G erman l anguage a lone: Geist in i ts “original s ense” i s
gheis, infuriated, enraged, beside- or outside‑oneself.
Let u s p ause a n in stant o ver H eidegger’s der ivation o f Geist from
gheis. Neither the Brothers Grimm nor Hermann Paul’s Deutsches Wörter‑
buch cite the form gheis. The Grimm Deutsches Wörterbuch cites the Old
High German keist or geist. Paul mentions the Gothic usgaisjan, “to drive
one o utside o neself,” a nd t he O ld N ordic geisa, “to ra ge” (HP 237–39).
Yet I c annot find in ei ther G rimm o r P aul a ny dir ect a ttribution o f fire
or ἀ ame t o Geist, whereas t here a re co untless r eferences t o w ind a nd
storm. Paul confirms the sense of ecstasy in the early religious or sha‑
manistic u sages o f Geist and n otes t he a ssociation o f m ultiple Geister or
“vital spirits” w ith t he n ervous system. Wherever gheis may ultimately
hail from, one must wonder whether either it or these “Gothic” and “Old
Nordic” words truly belong to unserer Sprache. In general, it needs to be
said that t he farther back o ne traces the etymology of a ny modern G er‑
man w ord t he m ore o ne i s in evitably le d t o a n en tire fa mily—indeed,
an en tire Geschlecht—of E uropean l anguages. I ronically, i t i s t he Oxford
English Dictionary that cites gheis as a “root” of Geist and ghost, apparently
Of Spirit 101
pre‑Teutonic in o rigin a nd r elated t o t he Sa nskrit hedas, “anger,” “ fury,”

which mig ht o f co urse g et u s e ventually t o fire a nd ἀ ame. Yet w e w ould
get there precisely through the sort of cultural and linguistic anthropology
that Heidegger is at pains to avoid.
One l ast w ord on t he “epochality” of Geist, a recollection of s ome‑
thing we have already noted more than once. Derrida several times insists
on t he co ntinuity o f H eidegger’s fa scination w ith t hat w ord a fter 1927,
that i s, o nce t he s care q uotes h ave b een r emoved f rom t he w ord a nd
the c urtain r ises o n 1933. W hen H eidegger in 1953 es chews geistig as a
metaphysical, ontotheological term, he gives the impression that he him‑
self w ould n ever u se i t. Yet in t he “ Rectorate A ddress” a nd in t he 1935
Introduction to Metaphysics, as w e h ave s een, H eidegger in vokes Geist
and does not shy from speaking in i ts name—precisely in o rder to escape
from Platonic‑Christian constraints. The inconsistency, perhaps the result
of what Nietzsche calls “active forgetfulness,” is nothing short of shocking.
The only demur that needs to be entered is that Heidegger’s invocation of
Geist is n ot a s co ntinuous a s D errida c laims. D errida do es n ot co nsider
carefully en ough H eidegger’s co ntinued resistance t o “spirit,” n ot o nly in
his 1929–30 le ctures, but also, for example, in t he 1959 “ The Way to Lan‑
guage” (US 239–68, es p. 246–49; B W 393–426, es p. 402–405). There Hei‑
degger cites Wilhelm von Humboldt’s introduction to t he Kawi language
of Java, an introduction t hat examines l anguage in t erms of der geistigen
Entwicklung des Menschengeschlechts, “the spiritual [or intellectual, as the
translator s ometimes s ays] de velopment o f t he h uman race .” H eidegger
goes to some lengths in hi s effort to think language as language, and not
as s omething e lse, in p articular n ot a s o ne a mong t he m any a spects o f
humanity’s “l abor of spirit.” Similarly, one do es not find t he words Geist,
geistig, geistlich p laying a s cr ucial a r ole in t he 1936–1940 N ietzsche le c‑
tures, w hich D errida k nows w ell a nd q uite o ften ci tes, n or e ven in t he
1935–36 Origin of the Work of Art. Furthermore, o ne finds s carcely a
reference t o Geist in t he 1936–38 Beiträge zur Philosophie: Vom Ereignis,
even in t he co ntexts w here o ne mig ht w ell h ave exp ected t o find i t. To
be sure, this last text became available only in 1989, so that it could not
have played a r ole in t he 1987 Of Spirit. Nevertheless, it is odd that Der‑
rida ig nores t his t ext in hi s final in quiries in to H eidegger, f or exa mple,
in Aporias and The Beast and the Sovereign. D o t he w ords Geist, geistig,
geistlich in fac t do minate H eidegger’s t hought a fter 1933? I s “ spirit” t he
missing link that joins what the Beiträge call Anklang and Zuspiel, Sprung
and Gründung? Do Da‑sein and die Wesung (bzw. Zerklüftung) des Seyns
prove to be “spiritual”? Do the “futural ones” who attend to the “passing
of t he l ast g od” s how t hemselves t o b e geistlich? The r eply h as t o b e in

the n egative: t he dra ma o f s pirit‑resurrected‑from‑quotation‑marks w ill
not be the exclusive drama to which we shall give the name “Heidegger.”
And yet. The year 1953 do es arrive, and it finds Heidegger invoking
Geist and geistlich with what seems to be the full authority of his thought.
Heidegger and spirit? Sometimes no, but sometimes yes.
In t he t enth a nd final c hapter o f De l’esprit, Derrida dra ws a tten‑
tion to Heidegger’s spiritual fires, as he elsewhere (especially in t he 1974
Glas) draws attention to Hegel’s. The German nation, for both Hegel and
Heidegger, is t he gu ardian of t he s acred fire of philosophy, keeper of t he
ancestral h earth o f t hought, t he v ery h omeland a nd h eartland o f s pirit,
Geist itself in o ne privileged language: there is, f rom Hegel to Heidegger,
a certain continuity of the pyric tradition in E urope’s middle. Essential to
that t radition is t he understanding of Geist as gas, that i s, a s t he va por‑
ous exh alations o f a f ermentation. F or H egel, w ho accep ts t he s purious
(or p hantasmatic) et ymology o f t he G erman Gas from t he D utch geest,
spirit w ould b e t hat w hich r ises a s a n a fflatus f rom t he co rruption a nd
fermentation of matter, including the material human body as the corpse
in de composition. Such a n a fflatus n eeds only a final s park t o reduce a ll
of nature to an ultimate conἀagration, a h olocaust. All that would remain
of nature would b e t he a shes of t he Phoenix bird t hat i s Geist. ( J. B. van
Helmont, the chemist who invented the word gas in the early seventeenth
century, him self im agined a v ery different et ymology: p ronouncing t he
g as an aspirant, he took t he word of his invention [ gas] to b e a c hild of
χάος, Hesiodic “chaos,” inasmuch as a ga s, t he most rarefied of a ll forms
of matter, tends to fill all the space that is available to it.) Derrida, pressed
for time, inasmuch as his lecture is entering into its fifth hour of the eve‑
ning, neglects to cite the most heartwarming fire and the most scorching
ἀame in H eidegger’s o euvre: h e s ets a side t he t heme o f der Herd in t he
1942 le ctures o n H ölderlin’s h ymn, “ Der I ster” (53:134–43, 151), w here
the R omantic rhetoric of domesticity ἀic kers and crackles in H eidegger’s
text; he also ignores the unnerving and even horrific juxtaposition of
bread and Heraclitus in t he baker’s oven (55:6–9, 22–23; W 185–86). Y et
Derrida s ucceeds in co mplicating H eidegger’s p icture o f a s pirit t hat, a s
geistlich, fiery rather than aspirant, has left the πνεῦµα of Platonic Chris‑
tianity decisively behind. Derrida reveals that already in A ristotle πνεῦµα
is not merely breath but also and preeminently a wa rm vapor or gas—an
ardent, life‑sustaining exhalation, whether of the breath or of sperm. Hei‑
degger w ould h ave t o co ncede, p erhaps u pon t he ur ging o f E ugen Fin k,
that π ῦρ ἀ είζωον, “ever‑living fire,” a nd t he H omeric‑Pindaric ζ άπυρος,
“exceedingly fiery,” do not need to wait upon the German Geist as geistlich.
Of Spirit 103
The l arger p oint, in D errida’s v iew, i s t hat Heidegger i s lo cked into

a “lin guistico‑historical t riangle,” t he t hree a pices o r v ertices o f w hich
are r epresented b y t he w ords π νεῦµα, spiritus, and Geist, a t riangle t hat
Heidegger himself w ishes to b e r igorously closed, and w hich in effect he
forecloses. I n t he m ost d aring m ove o f t he en tire le cture, D errida n ow
asks: Yet what if t hese three words—at least, during and after the time of
the Evangelists—are attempting to t ranslate t he Hebrew word ruah? Can
the triangle be closed or foreclosed? What would one make of the ironic
fact t hat t he t heme o f fire, as ruah, is u biquitous in J ewish p rophetic
texts a nd e ven in t he G ospels’ acco unt o f P entecost? H eidegger a lludes
to the Pentecostal tongues of ἀame (US 203), b ut he leaves in si lence the
earlier prophetic texts; indeed, he le aves in si lence e verything t hat mig ht
have gone into the formation of πνεῦµα. Can Heidegger, whose position
is ineluctably inside the triangle of the Greek, Latin, and German, decide
anything about a thought of Geist that would transgress the boundaries of
Europe and Asia, transforming the meaning of both Occident and Orient?
Recall t hat t his l ast c laim i s m ade in t he 1936 “Anaximander Fragment,”
where t he t hought o f t he es chatology o f b eing, t he gathering in to t he
“land o f e vening,” das Abendland, is s aid t o “ overwhelm O ccident a nd
Orient a like” (H 300; EGT 17). I t i s a s t hough H eidegger h as f orgotten
Hölderlin’s l abors d uring t he w eeks w hen hi s t ranslation o f S ophocles’s
Oedipus the Tyrant and Antigone is drawing to a close, to “orientalize” his
translation. It is as though he has forgotten Schelling’s labors to interpret
the C abirian dei ties o f Sa mothrace a s P hoenician in o rigin. S uch q ues‑
tions—the t riangle o f G reek‑Latin‑German, t he H ebrew ruah, Occident
and Orient—form nodes along that fourth thread of hesitation, perplexity,
and suspense that Derrida calls “epochality.”5
Derrida him self p oses q uestions t o H eidegger’s in debtedness t o
Schelling with regard to the theme of good and evil in t he solitary ἀ ame
5. Françoise D astur add s a co mment o n ruah that b rings i t q uite c lose t o t he t hemes o f Ge‑
schlecht. She writes: “Another point that is also interesting for Derrida is the relation of spirit to
the s oul, w hich c an b e r eferred t o t he C hristian o pposition pneuma‑psychè that c an b e f ound
in S t. P aul’s first E pistle t o t he C orinthians, a n o pposition t hat i s b ased a gain o n t he H ebraic
distinction b etween ruah and nepech. This opposition has to do with the sexual difference and
explains w hy t he o rigin o f e vil c an b e un derstood a s t he di scord b etween s pirit a nd s oul, t he
masculine a nd f eminine.” A nd in o rder t o a void all foreclosure, m oving b eyond t he J ewish
tradition, D astur add s: “ Such a t hinking a bout fire a nd a n iden tification o f fire a nd s pirit c an
however be found in Persian mazdeism, whose inἀuence on Judaism and Christianity should not
be un derestimated, es pecially w ith r espect t o t he o pposition o f a h oly s pirit a nd a n e vil s pirit,
which h as b een t aken u p a gain in J udaism a nd C hristianity.” S ee F rançoise D astur, “ Heidegger
and D errida o n Trakl,” in Phenomenology and Literature: Historical Perspectives and Systematic
Accounts, ed. Pol Vandevelde (Würzburg: Koenigshausen & Neumann, 2010), 43–57, esp. 55–56.
of s pirit. H ere t he s ame g esture i s r epeated: H eidegger t ries t o r emove

Schelling’s metaphysics from the site of Christian ontotheology, just as he
seeks to rescue Trakl’s poetry from it. While Derrida is surely right about
the continuity of this “metaphysics of evil” in H eidegger’s thought, which
is co ntinuous w ith t he t hought o f S chelling, a nd w hile s uch co ntinuities
obviously jeopardize every notion of epochality, I am still uncertain about
what t o m ake o f hi s p oint. I s t here n ot s ome s ense in w hich S chelling’s
thought of evil in the 1809 treatise On Human Freedom is indeed a radical
one? I s i t n ot v ery difficult t o place S chelling’s m ost radic al t hinking in
any C hristian co ntext o ne c an t hink o f, n o m atter h ow differentiated o r
nuanced t hat co ntext m ay b e f or u s? D oes n ot S chelling di slocate a nd
displace that context, perhaps as Trakl’s poetry displaces and dislocates the
word Christian? When Schelling comes to give an account of the blow or
stroke o f e vil a s a n “eternal de ed” p erformed o nce a nd f or a ll in a t ime
before time, in a life before life, a deed—like creation itself—performed
“in one m agical stroke,” in Einem magischen Schlag (7:386–87), w ould
we n ot find i t a s b ootless a s H eidegger do es t o di scuss S chelling in t he
context of “Christianity”? (It is that single Schlag in Schelling, incidentally,
that ought to fascinate t he t hinker of Geschlecht—not t wo strokes in t his
case, but one; recall that the one magical stroke defines “the manner and
quality o f t he human b eing’s [ des Menschen] co rporization,” b ut a lso t he
proclivity o f t he h uman es sence t o e vil.) Neither h ere n or in t he c ase o f
Trakl, it seems to me, should we be too quick to adjudge Heidegger’s
efforts to “de‑Christianize” the site “crude,” “gross,” or “conventional.” And
yet, no matter how radical Schelling’s thought, and no matter how unique
Trakl’s p oems, c an w e r eally s uppose t hat t he t hinking a nd t he p oetry
bear no relation at all to Platonic or Christian traditions? We will have to
labor o ver t his q uestion u p t o t he v ery en d o f t he p resent v olume. A nd
no doubt beyond it.
Derrida himself is never quick to judge, one must say. He acknowl‑
edges that one of Heidegger’s paths—which may have to become our own
path, whoever we may be—leads him to the thought of another beginning,
another Geschlecht, one that is heterogeneous with regard to origins. That
path, m ore o riginal t han a ny k nown o rigin, p romises t o le ad u s t o t he
thought of “something altogether other,” something “provocative, disrup‑
tive, ir ruptive” (D E 177/107). This w ould b e t he o ddly cir cular p ath aus
der Frühe, “out of ” or “on the basis of ” the dawn that is undecidably both
behind a nd a head o f u s—as o ur im previsible b ut p romised f uture. The
path by which Heidegger would rescue Trakl from the malaise of Platonis‑
tic a nd C hristianizing interpretations D errida do es find f orced a nd e ven
Of Spirit 105
violent—in hi s w ords, “l aborious,” “caricatural,” a nd e ven “conventional.”

Yet h e i s n ot p repared t o g ive u p t he dr eam o f s omething “ altogether
other,” s omething li ke t he dr eam o f lo ve, a nd s o h e f eels co mpelled t o
see h ow fa r t he t heologians a re w illing t o g o, h ow fa r t hey c an s tretch.
He co ncludes Of Spirit w ith t hat im agined di alogue b etween H eidegger
and a group o f aggrieved C hristian t heologians w ho find e verywhere in
Heidegger’s p resumably de‑Christianized T rakl a va st a rray o f r eligious
symbols a nd t heological t hemes: a p romise t hat i s more promising a nd
more telling t han any k nown promise, versprechender than t he saeculum,
an o rigin t hat i s e arlier t han a nd different f rom a ll k nown o rigins, a n
apocalyptic o r es chatological en d t o co nclude a ll p rior hi story, w hich i s
the history of a fa llen and decomposing humankind, and the commence‑
ment of an unforeseeable history, that of a more gentle twofold, as though
the human race co uld b ecome childlike once again—if it e ver was child‑
like, even back in i ts infancy. In short, a fa lling and a c urse, a s ubsequent
banishment f rom t he ga rden, a des cent in to q uarrel a nd di ssension, b ut
then a Zuspruch t hat Trakl p laces in t he m outh o f G od, a n a ffirmation
that H eidegger him self ci tes: Gott sprach eine sanfte Flamme zu seinem
Herzen: O Mensch! (T 54). “ God s poke a g entle ἀ ame t o hi s h eart: O h,
Humanity!” A curse and a resurrection, then, a rescuing stroke, a writ‑
ing o f fire—all t hese t raits co nstitute t he s tock in t rade o f t he C hristian
theologian. The last trait, a writing of ruah, even elicits “a similar echo
from my friend and coreligionist, the Messianic Jew” (DE 181/111).
The r esponse t hat D errida im agines f or H eidegger, hi s r esponse t o
these patiently impatient theologians, is by no means caricatural. One may
characterize i t a s a s trategic r etreat, a r etreat t hat o ne s ees e verywhere in
Heidegger’s work: its self‑proclaimed modesty, its emphasis on withdrawal
as p rotective co ncealment, h ence o n t he n eed f or let ting‑be. H eidegger
would simply say that he is not at all seeking to overcome either Platonistic
metaphysics or Christian theology, but leaving them to their own devices.
Not Überwindung but Verwindung would b e hi s l ast w ord. H e i s sim ply
submitting himself utterly to the demands of a meditative hearkening to the
poetic word. Such a word may well repeat words from the past, and in fact
it must do so; yet the p ath o f the poet would cross or in tersect with the
unutterable. Heidegger would perhaps even affirm the word that is dearest
to Derrida, that of le tout autre. Whatever the poet may be pointing to as
his p ath in tersects with t he path o f t he un speakable, we m ay b e cer tain
only that it is “altogether other” than anything we have been thinking.
Derrida concludes his astonishing effort in Of Spirit: Heidegger and
the Question b y in voking o nce a gain “ the p ath o f t he a ltogether o ther,”
a p ath t hat i s f raught w ith d anger. A p articularly di sarming p assage in

Of Spirit appears not q uite a t t he v ery en d b ut imm ediately p receding
the im agined di alogue b etween H eidegger a nd t he t heologians. I t ra ises
the g host o f a lterity in t he f orm o f p ower, puissance, even a t errifying
violence, t he unim aginable v iolence t hat m arks a nd m ars t he s eeming
innocence o f s pirit. W hat do es “spirit” involve, a fter a ll, w ith o r w ithout
the quotation marks?
It involves “events” past, present, and to come, a composition

of f orces a nd o f di scourses t hat s eem t o wa ge a wa r w ithout
mercy (f or exa mple f rom 1933 t o our own d ay). It involves a
program and a combinatory whose power remains abyssal. Such
power a llows n one o f t hese di scourses t o b e inn ocent in a ny
strict s ense; di scourses c an o nly ex change t heir p ower. S uch
power le aves n o site untouched, n o site w hich might s upport
a s eat o f j udgment. N azism wa s n ot b orn in t he des ert. We
know i t w ell, b ut i t i s a lways n ecessary t o r ecall i t. A nd e ven
if, fa r f rom e very des ert, i t h ad s prouted li ke a m ushroom in
the silence of a E uropean forest, it would have done so in t he
shadow o f g reat t rees, in t he s hadow o f t heir si lence o r t heir
indifference, but in the same soil. I will not draw up the account
of t hese t rees w hich in E urope p eople an imm ense b lack for‑
est. I w ill n ot co unt t he va rieties. F or es sential r easons, t heir
presentation defies the space of a tableau. In their burgeoning
taxonomy they would bear the names of religions, philosophies,
political r egimes, e conomic s tructures, r eligious o r ac ademic
institutions. I n s hort, w hat w e a lso c all, co nfusedly en ough,
culture or the world of spirit. (DE 179/109–10)
That imm ense b lack f orest h as b y n ow b een de vastated, o r s o o ne

must think. Yet it is still haunted by ghosts of the past, ghosts that never
will, or certainly never should, be laid to rest.
4
Geschlecht IV
Heidegger’s Philopolemological Ear
W hereas t he F rench v ersions o f t he ἀr st t wo Geschlechter appear

in Psyché: Inventions de l’autre (published in 1987 a long w ith De
l’esprit: Heidegger et la question), and whereas Geschlecht III never was
published, the fourth Geschlecht is appended to Politiques de l’amitié (“Pol‑
itics of Friendship”). Although the last‑named text was published only in
1994, i t der ives f rom a s eminar t aught in P aris in 1988–89, w hich i s t o
say, a t t he s ame t ime t hat “ Heidegger’s E ar” wa s w ritten a nd p resented.
It i s en tirely ἀ tting t hat Geschlecht IV appears w here i t do es, n ot o nly
because o f c hronology, b ut a lso b ecause o f i ts p rincipal t heme, n amely,
Heidegger’s r elationship t o f riendship o r φ ιλεῖν, t he G reek v erb f or “ to
love,” and to πόλεµος, the Greek noun meaning “war,” “struggle,” or “con‑
flict” in general.
Of t he f our lo ng c hapters o f Geschlecht IV, which a s a w hole s hifts
the f ocus o f t he s eries f rom h and t o e ar, I c an s ay v ery li ttle h ere. The
provocation f or t he en tire p iece i s a r emark—almost a n a side—in Being
and Time that wa s b rought t o D errida’s a ttention b y C hristopher F ynsk,
Jean‑Luc Nancy, and Jean‑François Courtine. The remark appears in s ec‑
tion 34, on “Da-sein and Speech; Language,” and it has to do with hearing
and li stening. Hearing, f or Heidegger, i s n ot a n aural m atter; it do es n ot
have t o do w ith aco ustics. H earing i s, f or H eidegger e arly a nd l ate, t he
very essence of speech and language. Indeed, it is much more than that.
“Hearing e ven constitutes t he primary and appropriate openness of D as‑
ein f or i ts o wnmost a bility t o b e [ sein eigenstes Seinkönnen], a s h earing
the voice of the friend that every Dasein carries with itself [als Hören der
Stimme des Freundes, den jedes Dasein bei sich trägt]” (SZ 163; PA 341).
Derrida’s r eading o f t he r emark o r a side co ncerning “ the v oice o f t he
friend,” t o w hich w e r eferred in c hapter 1 w hen co nsidering t he “ thou”
107
of s elfhood a s di scussed in “ On t he E ssence o f G round,” p roceeds w ord

by word. That reading is relentless and insightful. Yet Heidegger’s thought
both before and after Being and Time is about not only friendship but also
struggle, Kampf. Heraclitean πό λεµος, “ war” or “conflict,” di scussed l ater
in Geschlecht IV, proves to be a p owerful force in H eidegger’s thinking of
the 1930s and 1940s, and even beyond. As though Derrida were reflecting
on Freudian “lovehate,” the word Philopolemology is the ἀrst rubric in t he
subtitle, followed by the parenthetical (Geschlecht IV).
Everything a bout t his b rief a side in s ection 34 o f Being and Time
is o dd: t here a ppears t o b e o nly o ne f urther r eference t o t he “friend” in
Being and Time, so t hat t he f riend w ho t urns u p in s ection 34 co mes
unannounced, a s i t w ere. That f riend i s a ssociated w ith o r r epresented
by hi s o r h er voice, although n ot c alling w ith t he c all o f co nscience a nd
not s aying a nything w e c an iden tify w ith o ther a spects o f H eidegger’s
magnum o pus. E ach D asein, t hat i s, D asein a s jemeinig, “in e ach c ase
my own,” but presumably also as Mitsein and Mitdasein, is constituted
at le ast in p art b y s uch a f riend—or, b etter, b y s uch a n in ternal hear‑
ing of t he f riend’s v oice. H earing i s a t heme o r a ἀgur e t hat H eidegger
never a bandons, o r, b etter, a t heme a nd ἀgur e t hat n ever s top s peaking
to him. A nd t he f riend? Where i s t his f riend? The f riend i s c arried w ith
or w ithin o ne’s o wn D asein, w hich trägt the f riend. D errida w ill f ocus
on s uch tragen or c arrying, b oth in Being and Time and in l ater es says
that h ave t o do w ith t he Austrag of t he o ntological difference—one o f
the most abstruse of Heidegger’s t hemes. “Carries w ith itself ” or “within
itself,” o r p erhaps e ven “at h ome w ith i tself,” bei sich, i s a n o dd exp res‑
sion, m ore r eminiscent o f H egel t han o f H eidegger. True, t he e cstasis o f
the present, which is particularly bound up with everydayness, has to do
with the being‑alongside or being‑right‑next‑to (sein‑bei) handy items in
the world. Yet this sein‑bei does not seem to apply here. The voice of the
friend is hardly some handy item in the tool chest of our workaday world.
Bei‑sich‑sein is w ritten co untless t imes in Hegel’s w orks, in o rder t o
designate a “ concept” o r a “ grasp,” den Begriff, that h as m ade i ts wa y t o
both in side a nd o utside, t he co ncept t hat i s t herefore absolute. As s uch, i t
is a lso t he lif e o f a s pirit, Geist, which a fter a ll i ts j ourneys i s ἀn ally a lto‑
gether a t h ome in o r w ith i tself, ganz bei sich. B oth t he in‑itself a nd t he
for‑itself, an‑und‑für sich, shrink in im portance n ext t o t he in timacy a nd
intensity, die Innigkeit, of a spirit that is bei‑sich. It is clear, of course, that
for Hegel the bei‑sich will command the verb “to be,” or at least the verb “to
arrive,” bei‑sich‑sein or bei‑sich‑ankommen are the most common phrases. I
do not know whether Hegel ever uses tragen in this context. (I should also
Geschlecht IV: Heidegger’s Philopolemological Ear 109
note t hat I h ave s een t he p hrase bei sich trägt only in a G erman t ransla‑
tion o f R ousseau’s Émile, at t he p oint w here R ousseau s ays t hat freedom
is s omething t hat a w ell‑wrought h uman b eing bei sich trägt. Otherwise,
Heidegger’s p hrase s eems t o b e ra re in t he p hilosophical li terature, un less
perhaps o ne t hinks b ack t o t he σ υνουσία o f t he “ friendship o f e quals” in
Aristotle’s famous treatise on friendship.) It is also clear that Heidegger, for
his part, has no intention of invoking t he absolute, either as concept or as
spirit. A nd y et. The v oice o f t he f riend t hat D asein in e ach c ase c arries
“with itself,” if and when that voice is heard, constitutes “the primary and
appropriate openness of Dasein for its ownmost ability‑to‑be.”
The root eigen- appears here in t wo words, eigentliche and eigenstes,
and we might pause over it even longer t han Derrida does. Appearances
of eigenstes in the ἀrst division of the ἀrst part of Being and Time are
extremely ra re, f or i t i s t he s econd di vision t hat i s t o f ocus o n t he “fun‑
damental” p ossibility of D asein, n amely, its b eing‑toward‑the‑end. It i s a
mark o f t he t horoughly inf ormed r eading o f H eidegger b y C hristopher
Fynsk, in Heidegger, Thought and Historicity, that it identiἀes the voice of
the friend with death—as though Being and Time were a script by Ingmar
Bergman.1 Recall that the very ἀrst characteristic of the existential concep‑
tion of death is that the possibility of my death is my ownmost possibility,
die eigenste Möglichkeit, hence my eigenstes Seinkönnen. Yet, to repeat, this
comes u p o nly in t he second di vision. I n t he ἀr st di vision, h owever, w e
ἀnd another reference to the “ownmost” possibilities of Dasein, one that
Derrida do es not refer to, but with w hich, given his work on “datability”
in Shibboleth, he must have been familiar. In the course of his account of
the spatiality of intramundane things, especially “handy” items, Heidegger
mentions the sun. The reader will smile or frown, knowing that the solar
disc is too hot to handle. Much later in Being and Time (SZ 413), Hei‑
degger will distinguish t he “day‑after‑day” (tagtägliche) exp erience of t he
sun’s rising and setting from any notion of “everydayness” (Alltäglichkeit).
There is something special about the sun’s position in t he sky, something
that p oints t o “fundamental” rather t han m erely “diurnal” or “quotidian”
possibilities. Heidegger writes:
Kirchen un d G räber zum B eispiel sin d n ach A ufgang un d

Niedergang der S onne a ngelegt, die G egenden v on L eben
1. See C hristopher F ynsk, Heidegger, Thought and Historicity (Ithaca: C ornell University P ress,
1986), 42–43. Derrida cites Fynsk at PA 345/165 and 362/217.
und Tod, a us den en h er d as D asein s elbst hin sichtlich seiner

eigensten S einsmöglichkeiten in der W elt b estimmt i st. (SZ
104; emphasis mine)
Churches a nd g raves, f or exa mple, a re l aid o ut acco rding t o

the r ising a nd t he s etting o f t he s un, t he r egions o f lif e a nd
death, o n t he b asis o f w hich D asein i tself i s det ermined w ith
a view to the ownmost possibilities of its being in the world.
While I c an s till a ffirm t he in terpretation o f t his p assage t hat I

offered de cades a go in Daimon Life (DL 74–78), i t i s unf ortunate t hat I
did n ot t ry t o co nnect—as b izarre a s i t m ay s eem—these c hurches a nd
graves w ith t he voice of t he friend. Each of these declarations involves a
particular aspect of the analytic of Dasein in its average everydayness, the
spatiality of being‑in‑the‑world and the being‑with, Mitsein, of Dasein;
the o ne h as t o do w ith t he w orldhood o r w orldliness o f t he world of
Dasein, the other with the who? of Dasein, Dasein as being‑in. These two,
the world and t he who? as Heidegger r eminds u s co nstantly, a re t he t wo
articulations o f t he global phenomenon t hat b eing‑in‑the‑world is, and
they need to be thought together. One of the remarks that Derrida makes
in Geschlecht IV, as h e stresses t he indeterminacy o f this “friend,” i s that
he or she may be either living or dead. The voice of the dead may indeed
open up for us the “ownmost” possibility of our own ability to be, or not
to be, in t he world. When Freud tells us that the ghost of the father is far
more p otent t han t he li ving fa ther co uld e ver b e (SA 9:427), w e mig ht
add t hat t he v oice o f t he de ad f riend m ay dem and o ur h earkening a nd
heeding m ore p owerfully t han v oices o f t he li ving. I o nce h eard H élène
Cixous s ay, w hile addr essing a g roup o f s tudent p laywrights, “ In e very
play you w rite, you must bring t he de ad onto t he stage—otherwise w hat
chance have they got?” Yet I b elieve she would agree with me when I s ay
that the dead always ἀnd their opportunity, will always have a chance with
the living. Once the poison is introduced by Claudius into “the porches of
mine ear,” as Hamlet’s father says, the ghost will commence its haunting.
This is, of course, only one reading of the “voice of the friend,” and there
are doubtless countless others.2
2. More r ecently, d uring t he a utumn o f 2013 a t B rown University, I h eard Hélène Cix ous r ead
a p aper c alled “ The S hout o f L iterature.” The v oice o f h er de ceased f riend, J acques D errida,
sounded as an echo, haunting and intense, throughout her discreet “shout.”
In each of these possible readings of the voice of the friend, however, it

seems essential to retain the ambivalence and the sense of danger to which
those “porches” of the ear are exposed. Heidegger no sooner introduces the
friend than he assures us that “listening to one another” may mean “follow‑
ing” o r “going a long w ith” t he o ther; b ut i t m ay cer tainly a lso involve t he
“privative modes” of “not listening, opposing, spiting, and turning a way”
(SZ 163). This brings to mind the early description by Heidegger of “facti‑
cal lif e” in t erms o f Abständigkeit, our t aking a di stance o n o ne a nother,
descriptions t hat s urvive in Being and Time, section 27. D errida do es n ot
refer t o t hem exp licitly, yet a b rief r eference to t hem h elps us t o un der‑
stand t he ubiquity of spite. Factical life, s ays Heidegger (61:101–10), i s for
the m ost p art co nsumed b y i ts p assion t o distance itself from t he o thers,
boosting oneself beyond them or, if t his is impossible, suppressing or sub‑
jugating t hem in s ome way. For t he v oice of t he “friend” c an a lso s trike a
mocking tone. Yet this distancing is precisely what all the others are doing
with r espect t o m e, t his i s w hat o ne ( das Man) do es, a nd s o t he effort t o
distance oneself from the others collapses into the insipid uniformity of the
“They.” When one recalls Heidegger’s earlier accounts of “distantiality” and
of “masquerade” (DL 40–49) in o ur “being‑with” others, one must wonder
whence in all the world the voice of the friend who does not mock? Indeed,
what tone is struck by the friend, the friend who will never cease haunting?
The m oments in Geschlecht IV when D errida co mes c losest t o t he
foci of Geschlecht I are those in which he stresses the apparent “sexlessness”
of the friend, or, let us say more cautiously, the unannounced and unspeci‑
ἀed s ex a nd g ender o f t he f riend. The l ater H eidegger’s f ondness f or t he
inἀnitive of the Greek verb “to love,” φιλεῖν, as opposed to the noun φιλία,
“love” o r “ friendship,” s peaks t o t he co ntinuity o f H eidegger’s a wareness
of Geschlecht; yet e verything a bout t he “friend” t hat every D asein c ar‑
ries w ith i tself i s “furtive a nd enig matic” (PA 346/166). H eidegger s eems
to b e m aking w hat o thers w ould c all a p oetic a llusion, a ppealing t o t he
“ἀgure” o f t he f riend, a nd i t i s t rue t hat o ne ἀn ds, o r h ears, die Stimme
des Freundes in a p oem by Karoline von Günderode, “Der Gefangene und
der Sänger,” or in G erman t ranslations of Vergil’s Aeneid, Book S ix, or in
Sophie LaRoche’s Rosalie, and indeed in m any other works of li terature.
Yet virtually everywhere the voice of the friend belongs to the friend who
in fact is present in flesh and blood. Nor does Heidegger’s expression seem
to come from some German Sprichwort or folk tale, nor f rom s ome work
in the philosophical canon—although who could perform an adequate
search in t his respect? D errida i s n onetheless r ight t o s ay t hat s omething
of a poetic ἀgure—and of ἀgurative language—is there.
It i s p erhaps r elevant t hat o ne o f H eidegger’s m ost ext ended p ro‑

nouncements on the Austrag or διαφορά, the “carrying out” or “settlement”
or “carrying t o t erm” o f t he ontological difference, that i s, t he difference
between b eing and b eings, o ccurs in t he first Trakl essay of Underway to
Language, namely, “Die Sprache.” Heidegger there interprets Trakl’s poem
“A Winter Evening.” Yet t here t he f ocus i s o n t he interplay o f w orld a nd
thing, the “carrying to term” of world in t he things, a c arrying that is also
a “gesturing.” The o ld w ord bern is p reserved in t he w ords gebären, “to
bear a child,” “to give birth,” and gebärden, “to gesture.” Derrida is tempted
to in vent a t ranslation, m ore calembour than t ranslation, a nd s o w e in
English might think of thing and world in t erms of gesture and gestation
as “gesturation.” Yet t he more e arnest side o f t he Austrag is its dominion
(Walten, a w ord t hat w ill o ccupy D errida t hroughout hi s ἀn al s eminar,
in 2002–03) t hroughout t he ep och o f m etaphysics. The a mbivalence o f
such “ dominion,” i tself cr ucial f or t he Geschlecht series, w hich t ries t o
think t ogether t he sexual w ith t he ontological difference, i s t hat i t h olds
sway over b oth t he ep och of metaphysics, in w hich t he difference comes
to n othing, a nd t he “other t hinking” t hat H eidegger him self a ttempts t o
institute—in a w ord, t he t hinking o f Ereignis and the g ranting o f t ime
and b eing. On e o f t he m ost t roubling a spects o f t his a mbivalence in t he
Austrag i s H eidegger’s t endency t o exp ress t he n egative side a lways in
terms o f L atinization, o f a R ome and a C hristendom t hat o bfuscate t he
Greco‑German desire for being. And desire is the right word: philosophy
loves being, lo ves a nd mourns it, a s w hat h as s unk in to o blivion. H ei‑
degger’s a ttempt t o le ave p hilosophy o n i ts o wn a nd t o t urn t o a t hink‑
ing o f b eing a s Ereignis will a lways a nd e verywhere b e a t hinking o f t he
gathering, Versammlung, and o f t he h uman c apacity t o t hink b eing as
such. Yet it will be a gathering of something that has been lost, obfuscated,
forgotten, abandoned. What human being can rise to such a challenge?
As a lways, “h uman” h ere i s s aid in “ our” l anguage, s o t hat i t w ill
always b e a m atter o f a cer tain co mmunity, a cer tain “ people.” S truggle,
Kampf, will therefore always be proximate to such thinking. Derrida recalls
all t hose a spects o f H eidegger’s a ppeal, in s ection 74 o f Being and Time,
to a “h eritage” o r “ inheritance” t hat D asein i s t o a ppropriate, f ollow, o r
obey—Hörigkeit, “obedience,” will turn out to be an inevitable component
of one’s response to the voice of the friend. It is odd that at this moment in
his discussion (PA 360–61/177–78) D errida does not mention Heidegger’s
use (a t SZ 385) o f “Generation,” the L atinate w ord t hat o therwise w ould
be rendered as Geschlecht. The fact that Heidegger is using the word quite
positively h ere i s w hat i s di sturbing: one j oins one’s “generation” in o rder
to “choose one’s hero” and to engage in struggle on behalf of a community

or n ation—and s oon o ne h ears o r r emembers h earing “a co lumn o n t he
march” and the roar of motorcycles instead of the voice of the friend. And
yet, a s D errida notes at t he end of t he ἀr st chapter of “Philopolemology,”
there i s n othing in Being and Time that denies t he p ossibility t hat t he
“friend” is a f oreigner who speaks a l anguage we do n ot understand. And
if the voice of the friend speaks words we cannot understand, even though
we c an h ear t hem, w ould w e n ot b e o pened u p in a v ery s pecial wa y t o
the fragility of our being and its ownmost possibility? Furthermore, would
not the struggle against such a f oreign friend, turning a de af ear to his or
her wants and needs, indicate not open resolve but an attempted yet futile
flight from one’s ownmost ability to be?
The second of the four chapters of Geschlecht IV takes up the theme
of struggle and war in H eidegger’s “Rectorate Address” of 1933, hi s Intro‑
duction to Metaphysics and “The Or igin o f t he W ork o f A rt” o f 1935,
along with his lectures on Hölderlin and Heraclitus of the mid‑1930s and
mid‑1940s, respectively, and his 1955 lecture, “What Is That—Philosophy?”
All of these in the context of what Derrida calls “the politics of friendship.”
He b egins w ith t he 1955 es say’s iden tiἀcation o f H eraclitean λόγος w ith
φιλεῖν, “to love,” which Derrida translates as aimance—a clear reminder of
what t he Geschlecht series a s a w hole i s about, and by w hat it i s “magne‑
tized.” The lover of wisdom, the philosopher, says Heidegger, comes always
too l ate w ith hi s o r h er “lo ve o f w isdom,” in asmuch a s t he H eraclitean
sense of φιλεῖν as Gunst, “favoring,” has disappeared by the time Plato and
Aristotle arrive on the scene. Philosophy is thus always nostalgic, perhaps
even m ournful; i t y earns f or t he t ime w hen o ne co uld “say t he s ame” a s
the λόγος, as H eraclitus co mmanded. Another name for s uch nostalgia
is Ἔρως, a word that is quite rare in Heidegger’s works, mentioned only
briefly in t he 1955 “ Was i st d as—die P hilosophie? ” I t i s m entioned j ust
as fleetingly in t he 1936–38 Beiträge zur Philosophie (65:210), there in t he
context of εὐδαιµονία, “happiness.” To be sure, Ἔρως is a w ord that is not
remote from “the question of Geschlecht” (PA 383/191). Derrida notes:
The gravity of this elliptical allusion to Eros can be evaluated in

myriad ways. Its implicit context is so rich. But in supposing a
sort of pre‑erotic moment of φιλεῖν, does not Heidegger point
to a k ind o f Lieben o r lo ving [ aimance] t hat w ould s till fa ll
short not only of φιλία and of the different types of friendship
distinguished by Aristotle (according to virtue, political interest,
or pleasure), but also of the distinguishing mark [insigne] and
the enigmatic distinction between love and friendship, this last

resembling p erhaps in i ts c anonical m odel, a s I h ave t ried t o
show elsewhere, the homo- or monosexual de‑erotization or
sublimation of fraternity, that is, of the virile duo. Where then,
in this respect, is the voice of the friend placed, the friend that
each Dasein bei sich trägt? Is this voice pre‑erotic or not? What
can t hat m ean? W hat a bout i ts Geschlecht a nd i ts r elation t o
fraternity? (PA 385/192)
Although D errida do es n ot g o s o fa r, w e mig ht w onder w hether

philosophy’s los s o f H eraclitean φ ιλεῖν, o f t he p re‑erotic φ ιλεῖν, a nd t he
resulting m ourning a nd n ostalgia o f p hilosophy, w hich i s p recisely t he
long‑enduring ep och of a t roubled and t roubling Ἔρως, is t he result of a
second coup or frappe by which the Western world has been struck. To say
the least, this would cause us to rethink the history of being (or of beyng):
the abandonment by being of beings and the consequent oblivion of being
throughout the epoch of metaphysics would be essentially an erotic dis‑
order. S uch a di sorder w ould h ave t o do p reeminently w ith m ourning
and m elancholy. C ould s uch a t hought b e a ttributed t o H eidegger? On e
is t empted t o m ake s uch a n attribution, a nd y et o ne s hrinks f rom do ing
so. Such anxiety on our part, it seems, is an essential aspect of our erotic
disorder, amounting to a kind of timid vice. Recall Nietzsche’s observation
in Beyond Good and Evil, no. 168: “Christendom administered a poison to
Eros:—to be sure, he did not die on account of it, but he did degenerate to
vice” (KSA 5:102). And yet, at the end of that long epoch of metaphysics,
with the publication of Being and Time, would we still b e participants in
the ep och o f a v icious Er os? D errida, t hinking b ack t o t he v oice o f t he
friend t hat e very D asein c arries w ith i tself, w onders w hether Being and
Time, “among a ll t he b ooks w e h ave b een g iven t o r ead in t his century,”
may have been “the most and the least erotic” (PA 386/193).
However that may be, in the 1955 “What Is That—Philosophy?” one
cannot fa il t o s ee t hat H eidegger em phasizes a bove a ll e lse t he uni ting
power o f s uch p hiliac, if un erotic, fa voring, t he gathering power o f lo ve.
Derrida, a s t hough r emembering t he “ politics o f f riendship” t o w hich
his essay i s attached, a sks w hether “the democracy to come” w ill b e able
to r econcile s uch in sistent uniἀc ation a nd in cessant ga thering w ith t he
heterogeneities, dissymmetries, disproportions, and incommensurabilities
with which our democracies will increasingly be confronted (PA 372/183).
It seems undeniable that, for Heidegger, all is a m atter of gathering, Vers‑
ammlung, to w hich t he “ inner e ar” i s a lways a lert. This i s t he s ame e ar
that Heidegger evokes in the 1957 Der Satz vom Grund (SG 87–88), and it
is the ear that was already celebrated in t he 1934–35 le ctures on Hölder‑
lin’s “ Der R hein” a s “ the e ar o f t he p oet” (39:196–203). I n t he 1943–44
Heraclitus lecture course, Heidegger is not reluctant to refer to t he noun
φιλία, w hich h e un derstands, t o r epeat, a s Gunst, “favoring.” D errida i s
captivated f or t he m oment b y t he fa voring o r g ranting o f b eing, w hich
Heidegger deἀnes as follows: “Original favoring is the granting of what is
owed the other, inasmuch as it belongs to the latter’s essence, inasmuch as
it bears the other’s essence” (55:128). Being favors beings by granting them
what it owes them, giving them what they essentially need, namely, their
coming to the fore in presencing. A kind of generosity is thought here,
one that carries and grants to the other what it does not have, but which
it needs. Something of this generosity is felt also in the invocation of the
granting o f j ointure, Fug, discussed b y H eidegger in “ The A naximander
Fragment,” that jointure of order by which beings grant one another their
time a nd p lace in b eing a nd do n ot in sist r ecklessly o n t heir o wn exi st‑
ing. And yet Derrida closes this chapter by noting the uncanny proximity
of Ἔ ρως a nd Ἔ ρις, lo ve a nd h ate, Er os a nd Di scord, in H eidegger’s
thinking o f “ gathering.” F or if a fter W orld W ar II H eidegger ἀn ds t he
λόγος to be a ga thering in φ ιλεῖν, which is to say in p eace and harmony,
in t he 1930s h e s ees t he ga thering s torm o f λ όγος in t erms o f πό λεµος,
“struggle,” “war,” and “combat.” In “our” language, Kampf.
Chapter 3 co ntinues t o p ursue t he s ame s et o f i ssues in t erms o f
what William Blake called t he marriage of heaven and h ell—the role of
opposition a nd s trife w ithin f riendship—with r eference t o H eidegger’s
1933 co rrespondence w ith t he N ational S ocialist j urist C arl S chmitt,
along w ith H eidegger’s o wn “ Rectorate A ddress.” I n t he 1935 Introduc‑
tion to Metaphysics, Heidegger iden tiἀes λ όγος w ith s truggle: “Π όλεµος
and λ όγος a re s elfsame” (EM 47). I t i s a lmost a s t hough H eidegger i s
making t wo press releases, t he ἀr st in 1935, t he s econd in 1953, e ach in
accord with the spirit of the times: after the war, “gathering” is all peace
and lo ve; b efore t he wa r, a nd in co llusion w ith t he wa rriors, i t i s a ll
struggle and combat.3 Derrida’s reading of Heidegger’s political imbroglio
3. To b e s ure, t he di vision s uggested b y s uch “ press r eleases” i s o versimpliἀed. I n hi s le cture

course o f 1928–29, H eidegger di scusses t he φ ιλία o f p hilosophy in t erms o f “ inclination”
(Neigung), b ut a n in clination t hat in cludes s truggle ( Kampf) o r πό λεµος: “ This in clination, t his
inner friendship with the things themselves, is what is designated by φιλία—a friendship which,
like e very g enuine f riendship, a nd in acco rd w ith t he v ery es sence of f riendship, must ἀg ht f or
what it loves [um das, was sie liebt, kämpft]” (27:22).
of the 1930s i s relentless, merciless; and yet it is balanced by the question

as t o w hether in t he “democracies” o f t oday a ll t hat m uch h as c hanged.
When H eidegger c alls u pon hi s s tudents t o t ake u p t he t hree “ tasks” o f
labor s ervice, le arning s ervice, a nd mi litary s ervice, a ll o f t hem s ervices
to t he state, D errida wonders w hether anyone today c an b e s o conἀdent
that t hese terrible “tasks” and “services” h ave b een s et a side. He enters a
long parenthetical paragraph:
(I would pose here, between parentheses, to whoever would be

shocked in all good conscience by what Heidegger says of the
originary and indissociable coordination of these three services
or prescriptions, the following question: how and according to
what criteria would you be able in all rigor to dissociate them
in our own existence a s ci tizens, a nd e ven a s t eachers, in t he
modern dem ocracies of t he in dustrial a ge, b efore or after t he
two world wars? Where, even in an industrial democracy, does
the r igorous f rontier p ass b etween k nowledge, a rmies, a nd
productive l abor in g eneral? This p arenthesis i s n ot in tended
to minimize H eidegger’s e vident a nd s erious en gagement
with N azism. On e m ust n ever do t hat. W hat t he “ Rectorate
Discourse” s ays, in this context, about t he t hree s ervices, i s
compromising enough by itself. But if one does not forget that
in o ur s o‑called dem ocratic co ntext n o di scourse—even w ere
it to possess another tone—succeeds in rigorously dissociat‑
ing the s cientiἀc, t he mi litary, a nd l abor, w hether s killed o r
industrial, or c an praise t he one w ithout t he others, t hen one
measures things otherwise, one at least avoids good conscience
or ridicule.) (PA 393/198)
This c aution i s in fac t o ne o f t he t hings t hat di stinguishes D errida

from the l arge contingent of H eidegger b ashers a nd b urners: D errida i s
aware of how comforting it is to turn back to the past and wield the
sword o f r ighteous co ndemnation—it i s p erhaps t he v ery b est wa y t o
avoid o ne’s r esponsibilities in t he g enerally im penetrable a nd f rustrating
here‑and‑now and to don the mantle of the just.
If I may interject a remark, however, I am struck by the way in which
the t wo gui ses o f “ gathering,” in lo ve a nd in h ate, h ave a lways guide d
Heidegger’s work. I a m thinking of the endless polemics running through
all o f H eidegger’s e arly M arburg le ctures, e ven a s H eidegger i s s eeking
to de velop t here a n ew a nd en tirely p ositive r elation t o phenomenology.
Being and Time itself b ears t races o f s uch a s truggle—in Em pedoclean

terms, the struggle between Love and Hate within the one sphere, which
is i tself a s phere o f s truggle. W hat I m ean i s t his: H eidegger’s p henom‑
enological training induces him t o use the word lassen, “letting,” the root
of Gelassenheit, “letting‑be” or “releasement,” at key moments in hi s early
project. One must “let” the things show themselves as they are, one must
“let” t hem co me t o t he f ore o n t heir o wn, w ithout do ing t hem v iolence.
And yet one must also clear away obstacles, so that the things can appear;
one must act like that desperate man in P ina Bausch’s dance performance
“Café Müller” (seen also in A lomodóvar’s ἀlm Habla con ella) who clears
away the clutter of chairs and desks so that the somnambulant woman will
not come to grief against them. Allow me to present a few examples of
this desperately p olemical clearing‑action by t he phenomenologist (s oon
to b e t he t hinker o f Gelassenheit and o f b eing a s Ereignis and t he g rant‑
ing) w ho wa nts n othing m ore t han t o b e a ble t o let‑be. On e m ust n ot
seek t o es cape f rom t he h ermeneutic cir cle, s ays H eidegger (SZ 153);
one must en deavor t o s tep into i t in t he r ight way. Yet o nce o ne i s in i t,
reading t exts a s a h ermeneutician s hould, w hat o ne s ees o n t he p rinted
page t ends t o co nἀrm a ll o ne’s p rejudices—they a re a ll t here, a ll o ne’s
prejudices, right there on the page, unless one has done oneself the terrible
violence o f s tripping a way t he s elf‑deceptions t hat en able a nd em power
prejudice (SZ 150). E ven our most prized convictions, the convictions
we h ave in herited f rom t he p hilosophical t raditions w e lo ve, n eed t o b e
radically dismantled and deconstructed (SZ 21). Furthermore, everything
that ἀlls our newspapers and screams at us from the television channels at
airports n eeds t o b e s tripped a way: a s w e h eard in c hapter 1, H eidegger
calls for eine Entgegenwärtigung des Heute, a “depresentifying of the today,”
a b lotting o ut o f t he q uotidian w hite n oise t hat i s m eant t o di stract a nd
disempower us (SZ 391, 397). I ndeed, one is tempted to think Heidegger’s
phrase as Entheutigung, “de‑todaying,” as a k ind of detoxiἀcation, and to
hear Entheutigung as Enthäutigung, as t hough o ne h ad t o “ flay” o neself
to g et r id o f s uch m undane influences. H ow p owerful a nd o mnipresent
is t he Gerede of o ur o wn p ublic w orld—could H eidegger him self e ver
have dr eamt h ow b ad i t w ould g et (SZ 169)? That p ublic w orld p redi‑
gests everything for us, so that we do n ot know what to believe. Trapped
in a n a mbiguity t hat will n ot a bate, w e do n ot k now w hen t o t rust o ur
own judgment: “Everything looks as though it were genuinely understood,
grasped, a nd s aid, a nd y et a t b ottom i t i s n ot; o r i t lo oks a s t hough i t
were not, and yet at b ottom it is” (SZ 173). O ur preachers still preach of
“eternal t ruths,” a nd y et t hey h ave n ot p assed t hrough et ernity in o rder
to ga rner s uch t ruths, h ave n ot really b een a nywhere (SZ 229). A nd o ur

politicians? The clips our comedians play for us on t heir s atirical “news”
programs t ell us all we need to know about t he politicos. What we have
to do is “twist free” of all this deception and ambiguity (SZ 197, 201), a nd
that accounts for the occasional violence, Gewaltsamkeit, of our language
(SZ 183). I n fact, in o rder to let t hings be we have to snatch them out of
the concealments that cover them up: “The truth (discoveredness) always
has to be ἀrst of all wrested from [abgerungen von] beings. Beings have to
be t orn [ entrissen] o ut o f co ncealment. In e ach c ase, fac tical di scovered‑
ness is, as it were, always and everywhere, a theft [ein Raub]” (SZ 222).
We wanted always to be humming Paul McCartney’s “Let It Be,” and now
we are desperadoes and violators. No wonder, then, that genuine progress
in our phenomenological voyages, w hich confront s o many enig mas and
challenges, is measured in t erms of our c apacity for shipwreck, Scheitern
(SZ 148). I n s hort, t he p henomenologist and t he t hinker o f b eing w ho
wants t o let being be will v ery o ften b e dr iven t o t he m ost p olemical
sorts of attacks.
One further remark, if I may, concerning H eidegger’s 1936–38
Contributions to Philosophy, where t he p olemical t endency r eaches n ew
heights, o r dep ths. H ere t he mix o f p ious Gelassenheit and s ardonic
polemic in t he l anguage o f t he t ext i s n othing s hort o f di sconcerting.
Years ago I ventured to call it “paranoetic thinking,” a t hinking more des‑
perate than paranoid thinking inasmuch as no particular being (Seiendes)
menaces it, but only being (das Sein) itself and as such (DL 198–99). On
the one hand, Heidegger’s Contributions sustain the mood or fundamental
attunement o f “awe” a nd “reticence” ( Scheu, Verhaltenheit); o n t he o ther
hand, they are whipped by the winds of “terror” and “jubilation.” One of
the m ost h ated o bjects o f H eidegger’s p olemic i s Lebensphilosophie, for
which he has bottomless contempt: its sentimental and besotted discourse,
the l ast ga sp o f a fa tuous N eo‑Kantianism a nd m oribund I dealism, i s a
mere s hadow o f t he p ositivism a nd t he m achinations o f o ur t ime. I t i s
as t hough H eidegger’s co mpulsion t o p olemic, t o t he s arcastic a nd s ar‑
donic, in tends t o b low a way t he o bstacles t o hi s m ore do cile m oments
of pious acceptation—the thinking of gentle response, releasement, and
letting‑be. The a lternating c urrent o f p olemic a nd p iety s eems t o dr ive
the text and energize the thinking as such. Such thinking is not paranoid,
since t here i s, t o r epeat, n o p articular b eing t hat in stigates t he p aranoid
process o f ἀxa tion, r epression b y m eans o f r eversal, t he r eturn o f t he
repressed, and delusional reconstruction (formulated in F reud’s language,
from his “Schreber” case (SA 7:186–94), in t he four s tatements, “I love
him,” “ He lo ves m e b ut I h ate him,” “ He h ates m e a nd p ersecutes m e,”

and “ Such i s m y w retched uni verse”), a lthough w hen o ne co nsiders t he
objects o f H eidegger’s p olemic, f rom P latonism t o L udwig K lages, a nd
from m odern s ubjectivity t o t echnological g igantism, one s ees h ow s uch
objects a nd t he w rath t hey in cur co uld f eed s uch a p aranoetic p rocess.
What r emains n oteworthy i s t he b leakness o f H eidegger’s t ext, w ith i ts
“shivering dei ties” s truggling t o b e b orn f rom t he d ark de clivity o f t he
present age, a b leakness that readily translates to the expression, “Such is
my wretched universe.” The uncanny inflation of the language throughout
the b ook, w ith i ts b iblical s torms a nd j ubilations, i ts Sturm and Jubel,
its v erbal Erzittern an d Göttern suggesting t he t roubled b irth o f t rem‑
ulous g ods, i ts s ense o f des perate em battlement—Wir stehen in diesem
Kampf um den letzten Gott, “We s tand in t his b attle f or t he l ast g od”
(65:412)—suggests the paranoetic nature of the thinking itself, a t hinking
to which no noematic correlate is equal and in w hich no νοεῖν c an ἀnd
its e quilibrium in a s elf‑thinking, autonoetic t hought. To my k nowledge,
Derrida s eldom if e ver cites t his bizarre volume, w hich was immediately
hailed a s H eidegger’s s econd m agnum o pus, p ublished in t he v ery y ear
that Geschlecht IV wa s p resented. A nd y et t his v olume, p erhaps m ore
than any other in the Heidegger Gesamtausgabe, demonstrates the gather‑
ing f orces o f b oth let ting‑be a nd p olemic, b oth lo ve a nd wa r, t he en tire
philopolemology. Whether the two hands (Robert Mitchum’s two tattooed
ἀsts o f “ Love” a nd “ Hate”) s trike w ith e qual co nsistency, h owever, w ith
love balancing hatred, we may have to doubt. The polemical rage suggests
the preeminence here (the years are 1936–38) of Heraclitean πόλεµος and
Empedoclean νεῖκος—if the names of the great Ephesian and Sicilian dare
be attached to what is after all Heideggerian polemic.
Derrida, r eading H eidegger’s t exts o f 1933 a nd 1935, f ocuses o n
the w ord Kampf, perhaps o vertranslated b y t he F rench w ord combat,
inasmuch a s a ny f orm o f s truggle, n ot o nly t he mi litary o r p ugilistic
form, i s e voked in t he w ord Kampf. D errida him self i s a ware o f h ow
difficult i t i s t o a ssign a s peciἀc m eaning t o t he t erm. I n a ny c ase, i t i s
impossible to deny that anyone in Germany during the early 1930s, when
employing t he w ord, i s lo oking a head t o t he l ate 1930s, s ometimes in
trepidation, s ometimes w ith e lation. M ore t roubling s till t o D errida i s
the term Kampfgemeinschaft, “embattled community,” or “community of
ἀghters,” f rom t he “Rectorate Address,” reminiscent of t he Gemeinschaft
of Being and Time and its call to Kampf. When the “community” and the
“generation” cited in section 74 of Being and Time conjoin w ith a view
to struggle, or even battle, then the gathering power of the logos assumes
a p articularly di sturbing f orm. W ithout ci ting H eidegger’s co mmentary

on t he colon t hat p recedes t he exp ression “E i n Geschlecht” in Trakl’s
Abendländisches Lied, Derrida here takes special note of Heidegger’s use
of t he co lon in hi s “Rectorate Address” t o gather the “essential w ills” o f
both t eachers a nd s tudents to r eadiness f or Kampf (PA 396/200). A nd
here, D errida in sists, H eidegger i s n ot fa r f rom C arl S chmitt, f or i t i s
difficult t o co nceive o f t he p lea f or “ struggle” w ithout t he p resence o f
a f oe t hat co nfronts t he Kampfgemeinschaft. True, H eidegger do es n ot
plead f or t he “real p ossibility” of “physically k illing” t he f oe, a s S chmitt
does (s ee PA 108–109; 317); y et hi s “Address” a nd hi s ac tions ad vanc‑
ing the Gleichschaltung of uni versity t eachers a nd s tudents in line w ith
the Nazi‑dominated state falls just short of that. Derrida’s question to
Heidegger—his philosophical question—is w hether t he di scord t hat i s
expressed in t he w ord Kampf is b eing t hought in g enuine H eraclitean
fashion, o r w hether i t do es n ot di splay s omething o f t he c urse t hat
derives from the “second stroke” cited by Heidegger two decades later in
his second essay on Trakl. That is to say, does not the stress on Kampf and
Auseinandersetzung (“confrontation”) suggest that Heidegger is precisely
a philosopher, one who loves wisdom nostalgically, mournfully, saturated
as he is by a s ense of loss? L oss of w hat? Of a s ense for t he meaning of
being, o f a s ense f or t he m eaning o f t he question of b eing, b ut a lso t he
loss of a sense of community, about which everyone today is still writing.
Whether Heidegger’s r eading o f πό λεµος in H eraclitus i s “originary” o r
merely “ philosophical” in t he p ejorative s ense, s ays D errida, i s en tirely
equivocal—in the sense of an equivocation or an ambiguity that never is
and never can be “formalized” by Heidegger himself. Identifying himself
with t he “ few,” t he “ only s ome o f u s” w ho c an j oin t he Kampfgemein‑
schaft, Heidegger s uccumbs t o a v oluntarism o f t he “ essential w ill” o f
Volk and Führer. The “self ” of the Selbstbehauptung of the university, the
αὐτός identifying itself as the fundamental “spirit” of the Western world,
will b e t he “self ” t hat “ we” w retched a nd m ournful l atecomers a rrogate
to “ourselves” in lieu of something better.
If I m ay insert yet another remark, this time on the relation of Hei‑
degger’s incipient reading(s) of Hölderlin’s poetry during the 1930s t o the
discord of polemic and πόλεµος: it is disappointing, to say the least, that
any reader of Hölderlin could affirm as enthusiastically as Heidegger does
the Kampfgemeinschaft. Where is Heidegger’s reading of Hyperion, whose
hero laments that his own embattled community, which was supposed to
liberate Greece f rom O ttoman domination, turns instead into a h orde of
“barbarians” p lundering t he G reek co untryside (CHV 1:720)? H yperion

ridicules hi s o wn de lusional p roject, “ to s ow m y E lysium w ith a b and
of thieves” (ibid.). N or i s Hyperion alone in hi s lament: would n ot any
reader of K leist’s Michael Kohlhaas have s ensed t he s ame d anger? And if
Heidegger also reads Hölderlin’s Der Tod des Empedokles, how can he fail
to s ee in t he m achinations o f t he t hree s uccessive le aders o f t he G reek
city‑state t he t yranny t hat h as o verwhelmed G ermany? E ven a nd es pe‑
cially if H eidegger det ermines t o r emain “ in t he p rovinces” o f s outhern
Germany, h ow c an h e co nfuse t he ide als o f Em pedocles a nd H ölderlin
with Berlin? And as for Heidegger’s enduring philo‑Germanism, how can
he fail to have an ear, an open ear, an inner ear, for Hyperion’s devastating
evaluation of “the Germans”?
And so I a rrived among the Germans. I did n ot ask for much,

and I was prepared to ἀnd less. Humbly I came, like the home‑
less and blind Oedipus to the gates of Athens, received by the
sacred grove; and beautiful souls came out to meet him—
How differently it went with me!
Barbarians from of old, through discipline and science,
and even through religion, grown more barbaric still, profoundly
incapable o f e very di vine f eeling, unr eceptive do wn t o t heir
very m arrow o f t he h appiness o f t he h oly G races, in sulting
any cultivated soul with every degree of hyperbole and squalor,
dull and devoid of harmony, like the shards of a vase someone
has tossed away—these, my B ellarmin! were my consolations!
My language is harsh, and yet I h ave to say this, because
it is the truth: I can think of no other nation that is more frag‑
mented t han t he G erman. You’ll ἀn d a rtisans, b ut n o human
beings, thinkers, but no human beings, priests, but no human
beings.  .  .  .—Is it not like a b attleἀeld, where hands and arms
and all the other limbs lie scattered about, while the blood that
has been shed seeps into the sand? (CHV 1:754)
This i s t he mi ld p art o f H ölderlin’s πό λεµος, f or H yperion’s a ttack

soon picks up speed and strength. At the end of his letter, Hyperion sighs,
“Enough!  .  .  .  I speak for all who live and suffer in t his country, as I h ave
suffered” (CHV 1:757). True, Heidegger might have embraced Hölderlin’s
polemic, trusting that he, Heidegger, would be the one to mend the shards
and transform barbarians into Greeks—in other words, trusting that a
thinker might succeed where a poet had failed.4 In a h andwritten, unpub‑

lished n ote f rom t he y ear 1939, H eidegger s colds N ietzsche f or b eing
“insufficiently G erman,” a s if t hat w ere a n in sult. The H ölderlin w hom
Heidegger prefers to Nietzsche was anything but inferior to Nietzsche in
this “ insufficiency,” h owever. A nd w hen N ietzsche’s m other s colds him
precisely in t he way Heidegger do es, Nietzsche replies, “Even if I s hould
be a v ery bad G erman—I am at a ll e vents a very good European” (KSAB
7:233). If only Heidegger had been able to make such a claim!
The fourth chapter of Geschlecht IV promises to t ake up t he t heme
of sacrifice in this discourse of friendship and strife, yet very little is said
here o n s acriἀce a s s uch—it s eems t o b e a n i ssue f or t he f uture. R ather,
what Derrida focuses on is Heraclitean πόλεµος as an ontological concept
rather than an anthropological or political one. Again, the word Walten,
“ruling swa y” o r “ dominion,” t he r oot o f Gewalt, “force” o r “ violence,”
comes t o s tage cen ter in D errida’s t hinking, a p lace i t w ill o ccupy u p t o
the en d o f hi s lif e. I n t his r espect, t he most im portant p assage in H ei‑
degger’s Introduction to Metaphysics (1935), which Derrida reads in g reat
detail over many pages of his own text, is the following, from Heidegger’s
chapter on “The Grammar and Etymology of the Word ‘sein’ ” (EM 47):
φύσις means the rising upsurge, or the self‑unfolding that tarries

in itself. In this dominion [Walten], rest and motion are locked
away a nd o pened u p o n t he b asis o f a n o riginal uni ty. S uch
dominion [Walten] is the overwhelming coming‑to‑presence
that is still unmastered in our thinking, the coming‑to‑presence
in w hich that which comes t o p resence es sentially unf olds a s
a being. Yet such dominion ἀrst emerges from concealment—
which m eans t o s ay, in G reek, t hat ἀ λήθεια (un concealment)
happens—when do minion s truggles t o b ecome a w orld [ sich
als eine Welt erkämpft]. By means of world, beings ἀrst become
what they are.
Heidegger now presents Heraclitus’s fragment (Diels‑Kranz B 53) in

the Greek, which we may translate roughly as follows: “War [πόλεµος] is
4. Heidegger did read H ölderlin’s p olemic, a nd h e does manage t o ex clude him self f rom t he
“barbarism” o f t he G ermans o f hi s o wn t ime. I n hi s Black Notebooks Heidegger r efers t wice t o
the passage from the second volume of Hyperion, both alluding to it and citing it directly, without
drawing its consequences for his own philo‑Germanism. See 95:12 and 96:114.
both the father [πατήρ] and the king [βασιλεύς] of all things, proclaiming
who shall be gods and who humans; some he determines as slaves, others
he makes free.” Heidegger’s own translation might be rendered as follows:
“Confrontation [ Auseinandersetzung] i s in deed t he progenitor [ Erzeuger]
of all (t hat comes to presence), (letting it arise), but (also) the dominant
preserver [ waltender Bewahrer]. F or co nfrontation lets s ome a ppear a s
gods, others as human beings, producing (and exhibiting) some as slaves,
but others as free.” Heidegger now comments:
The πόλεµος named here is a dominant strife [waltender Streit]

that p recedes e verything di vine a nd e verything h uman; i t i s
not a wa r a fter the human fa shion. The s truggle about which
Heraclitus is t hinking lets t hose b eings t hat essentially unfold
separate from one another in a n opposition, lets p osition and
status a nd ra nk ἀr st b e drawn into p resencing. I n s uch s epa‑
ration, c lefts, distances, b readths, a nd j ointures o pen u p. I n
such a s etting‑apart‑from‑one‑another [ Aus‑einandersetzung]
world co mes t o b e. (C onfrontation n either di vides t he uni ty
nor does it destroy the unity. It shapes the unity; it is gathering
[Sammlung] (λόγος). Πόλεµος and λόγος are selfsame.) (Ibid.)
The principal effort in Derrida’s discussion is to reflect on the anom‑

aly that whereas in the postwar discussions Heidegger’s emphasis falls on
Heraclitean φιλεῖν, as in fragment B 123, φύ σις κρύπτεσθαι φιλεῖ, “Upsur‑
gence loves to hide,” in 1933 and in 1935 the emphasis falls on πόλεµος as
either Kampf or Auseinandersetzung, either “struggle” o r “confrontation.”
And y et in b oth c ases t he o verarching r esult f or H eidegger i s ga thering
and uniἀc ation, (Ver-)Sammlung. It is only fair to repeat t hat t he French
translation o f Kampf as combat is s omewhat p rejudicial, cer tainly a ll t he
more s o as one examines t he 1935 Einführung. Derrida is usually hyper‑
sensitive to such translation issues, but here he often accepts combat as an
adequate r endering. Of co urse, in s ome c ases, i t i s. Yet w hen H eidegger
uses t he w ord Auseinandersetzung in 1935, h e a ssures u s t hat h e i s n ot
talking a bout s ome s ort o f “ competition” o r “ race” a mong b eings. A nd
the w ord Streit is a lready a ssociated w ith t hat s triving b etween w orld
and e arth in w hich b eings r eveal t hemselves—especially in w orks o f
art. A lthough I do n ot r ecall a s peciἀc r eference t o N ietzsche in t his
regard, I imagine that Heidegger is here strongly influenced by Nietzsche’s
“Homer’s Contest” and related early writings. Nietzsche’s emphasis on
the ἀ γών, “competition” o r “contest,” in e very a spect o f G reek lif e s urely
must h ave impressed Heidegger. A nd a lthough i t m ay s eem v ery o dd t o

us, t he v ery ἀr st m eaning o f ἀγών i s “gathering” o r “assembly,” m eaning
principally t he ga thering o f s pectators a t a thletic ga mes a nd co ntests. I n
that s ense, H eidegger’s iden tiἀcation o f s triving w ith ga thering i s n ot a t
all fa r‑fetched. A s f or “ discord,” Ἔ ρις, N ietzsche r eports t hat P ausanias
claims t o h ave s een s ome t ablets co ntaining H esiod’s Works and Days
that r ecord t he exi stence o f two goddesses b y t hat n ame. The o ne Er is,
who in cites t o wa r a nd v iolence, i s uni versally h ated, b ut t he o ther, s ays
Pausanias, s ees t o it t hat e ven t he in competent p erson goes t o work and
even t he d ullard s truggles t o co mprehend. The g ood Er is i s s omewhere
between Envy and Ambition, and, in s pite of her dubious reputation, she
merits praise (KSA 1:786).
To b e s ure, i t i s a g rim t urn t hat w e a re f orced t o m ake, f rom
Homer’s contest to the eve of World War II, and nothing I am writing here
is meant to assuage D errida’s disquiet. No one w ho heard t he “Rectorate
Address” in 1933 h ad t he le ast t rouble t ranslating e verything h e o r s he
heard into the less sophisticated language of the Völkische Beobachter, and
this discredit lies a t Heidegger’s feet and will lie t here forever. As Derrida
himself admits, however, the 1935 Introduction to Metaphysics gives us far
more trouble, far more to think about.
As w e h ave a lready n oted, H eraclitean πό λεµος do es n ot r efer t o
a wa r o f h uman m aking. I t s peaks o f a n ini tial s eparating o ut, a fter t he
fashion o f H esiod’s Theogony, of b eings a nd t heir en compassing w orld.
This Aus‑einander‑setzung will b e a w ord in H eidegger’s v ocabulary a ll
the wa y in to t he 1960s; t he co nfrontation w ith N ietzsche’s t hinking, f or
example, will bear that title. Derrida is struck by Heidegger’s avoidance of
the w ord father in H eraclitus B 53, a nd in hi s p erplexity h e c annot add
much to what Heidegger says about the Erzeuger. Yet this “progenitor” is
a hint in t he direction of Geschlecht, inasmuch as “progenitor” or “engen‑
derer” is a s triking—and enigmatic—rendering of at least one facet of the
father. D errida notes t hat Heidegger m ay b e t rying to de‑anthropologize
his t ranslation o f H eraclitus, a voiding t he emin ently h uman ἀgur es o f
father a nd k ing. Perhaps (t hough D errida do es n ot s ay s o) H eidegger i s
trying to avoid any Judeo‑Christian allusions to a “heavenly” father. And
his translation of king as waltender Bewahrer, which does not exactly roll
off the t ongue, i s e qually enig matic: p erhaps w hat H eidegger wa nts t o
stress, h owever, i s t hat w hatever v iolence ( Gewalt) m ay b e im plicated in
the w ord Walten, the do minion in q uestion i s a p reserving a nd a s afe‑
guarding (Gewähr), and only to that extent a gathering.
However, Walten remains the sticking point f or Derrida: i t smacks
of t hat “ spiritual r evolution” o f w hich H eidegger f elt him self t he le ader
and b y m eans o f w hich h e f elt h e co uld influence t he N ational S ocialist

“movement.” B y 1935, o f co urse, H eidegger i s n o lo nger r ector, a nd t he
inner migration has begun. Yet Derrida continues to insist that when the
word Walten appears in Heidegger’s lectures and essays it is “not without a
certain violence” (PA 407/207). P erhaps that is merely because Heidegger
heaps u p s o m any f orms o f t he w ord: überwältigend, “overwhelming,”
bewältigen, “to g et un der co ntrol, t o m aster,” a nd, o ver a nd o ver a gain,
Walten itself, as dominion and ruling sway, not to mention sich erkämpf
en, the cosmic s truggle f or w orld. E verything but violence, Gewalt, in
the fa miliar p olitical s ense o f t he w ord, a ppears h ere; a nd y et, t o D er‑
rida’s e ar a t le ast, e verything n evertheless r ings w ith t he j arring s ounds
of force and compulsion. D errida: “ The p ower, t he force, or t he v iolence
of t his Walten is t he o riginary φύ σις t hat c an co me a bout o nly in s triv‑
ing, s’efforçant,” t hat i s t o s ay, f orcing i tself o n u s (PA 408/207). T rue, i t
is “spiritual” force—yet after De l’esprit one is less certain than ever about
the characteristics and the limits of this spiriting force. Perhaps the forcing
that m ost di squiets D errida sim ply r esults f rom t he fac t t hat H eidegger
insists o n ga thering everything in to hi s a ssembly: lo ve o r h ate, a mity o r
discord, p eace or war—it do es not really matter, it a ll gets gathered. One
is all. For a thinker of différance, this is a nightmare.
Although Derrida fails to mention it here, love and hate, gentleness
and di ssension a re n ot a lways m atters o f in difference t o H eidegger. A t
least w here Geschlecht is co ncerned, a s w e h ave a lready s een a nd a s w e
shall see again, there are two strokes, and it matters very much which one
strikes. For one stroke results in a o nefold twofold that is at least initially
gentle, w hereas t he other is t he c urse of discord. A lthough D errida do es
not m ention t his a spect o f hi s Geschlecht project h ere, I do n ot b elieve
for one minute that he has forgotten it.
There i s, o f co urse, a s econd r eason f or di squiet. I n m any o f t he
texts o f the 1930s, Heidegger includes t he founding and the directing of
a state, along w ith t hinking a nd p oetizing, a s t he es sential ac tivities o f
struggle and striving. To repeat, w hen Kampf and e ven Walten are b eing
spoken in t he G ermany o f t he 1930s, a n “essential e quivocation” i s p os‑
sible, perhaps even inevitable, an equivocation that cannot be formalized
or even formulated and that can be so readily misheard by ears other than
Heidegger’s. In his lectures on Hölderlin’s “Germanien,” a name that seems
to len d i tself t o mi shearing, H eidegger ci tes H eraclitus B 53 o nce a gain.
Here the “king” is no longer der waltende Bewahrer but der Beherrscher,
the r uler (39:125). Y et w hat r ules in t he Western w orld i s die Not, the
calamity of complacency, of needlessness and heedlessness with regard
to t he o ntological difference. N eeded i s a n en tirely n ew o rientation, a
new beginning in w hich there “rules,” waltet, a “supreme intensity in o ur

own n ation’s b elonging t o b eyng” (39:135). N eeded a re n ew e ars, a n ew
way f or n ew e ars t o h earken, a nd n ew s ongs f or G erman e ars t o h eed.
Yet t he “sacriἀce” t o w hich D errida n ow dra ws o ur a ttention h as n oth‑
ing redemptive about it. I f a p eople i s to ἀnd t he truth of i ts hi storical
existence, says Heidegger, it needs to listen to the voices of its poets.
However, t hese v oices w ill not b e h eard. I ndeed, t he g reat p oets a re o ur
“ἀrstborn,” and t he ἀr stborn must b e s acriἀced, [es] müssen die Erstlinge
geopfert werden (39:146). H ere H eidegger do es n ot s eem t o b e b othered
by t he Judeo‑Christian a llusion t o Jacob a nd Isaac, o r t o t he o lder s tory
of Cain and Abel.
The somber mood of sacriἀce p ermeates Heidegger’s 1936–38 Con‑
tributions as well, if we may allude to that work again, and it is a mood set
by a n umber of lin es f rom Hölderlin’s “ The Titans.” The p oem b egins by
saying t hat now is not the t ime, Nicht ist es aber / Die Zeit. No covenant
binds us now to the gods, and yet the gods will not go to meet “nonpar‑
ticipants.” Thus the p oet, in order to s eek repose, meditates on t he dead:
Viele sind gestorben.

Feldherrn in alter Zeit
Und schöne Frauen und Dichter
Und in neuer
Der Männer viel
Ich aber bin allein. (CHV 1:390; 39:137)
Many have died.

Warrior kings in ancient times
And beautiful women and poets
And in the new
Many men.
But I am alone.
Although H eidegger, in co ntrast t o C arl S chmitt, ra rely m entions

“the enemy,” he does make an important reference to enmity in his lecture
course o n “ Germanien” a nd “ Der R hein.” W hile in terpreting H ölderlin’s
emphasis (in “ Der R hein”) o n t he im portance o f o ne’s o rigins a nd b irth
for a p ersonal a nd p erhaps co llective des tiny, a des tiny t hat w ill a lways
involve s truggle, H eidegger s peaks o f t he Feindseligkeit that c an co me
to r ule ( walten, as a lways) in a n “original h ostility,” urprünglicher Feind‑
schaft (39:245). Yet there is something “blessed” (selig) in such opposition
and enmi ty, f or Feindschaft h elps t o s hape w hatever “ purely o riginates.”

Therefore, s ays H eidegger, e ven enmi ty i s a n es sentially unif ying f orce.
Although n either H eidegger n or D errida m entions i t, t his s ense o f t he
importance of opposition arises very early in H ölderlin’s work: the entire
project of Hyperion rests on the “elliptical” interpretation of a human life,
which has two conflicting foci, namely, one’s natural endowment and one’s
schooling in t he world at large; these two foci are forever in di sharmony,
and life is never a perfect circle or sphere but is always elliptical. No mat‑
ter how feindlich the s econd of t he t wo foci m ay b e, h owever, t here m ay
also b e s omething “ blessed” a bout i t, a t le ast in v iew o f t he en d r esult,
namely, the formation of a human life. And yet toward the end of his own
life Hölderlin ἀnds that the two focal points have faded to undistinguish‑
ability. And the voice of his friend? She is long gone.
So i t g oes w ith t he g reat p oet, t he ἀr stborn w ho m ust a nd w ill b e
sacriἀced. But what of the thinker? Heidegger himself is the poet’s media‑
tor, o bserves D errida, a nd s o i t i s Heidegger him self w hose lo neliness i s
being evoked. Derrida writes: “The mediator always says in truth: Ich aber
bin allein. You do not hear me, when will you hear me hearing Heraclitus,
Hölderlin, a nd s ome o thers? W hen w ill y ou s top s acriἀcing m e? W hen
will you hear the voice of that strange friend that your Dasein carries
with itself (bei sich trägt), of t hat enemy‑friend t hat speaks to you in t he
heart o f a Feindseligkeit, of t his o riginary enmi ty t hat f orever ga thers u s
for t he b est a nd t he w orst? ” (PA 418–19/215–16). I t i s n ot t oo m uch t o
say t hat D errida him self, w ho c ame t o E urope f rom “another h eading,”
that of North Africa, himself knew the taste of such loneliness.
Perhaps a co ncluding remark will not be out of place. By this point
in the Geschlecht project, it is clear that the framework of Derrida’s semi‑
nar, “Philosophical Nationality and Nationalism,” has signiἀcantly altered
the dir ection t aken b y t he o riginal Geschlecht article. “ Philopolemology”
has a new set of texts, several new objectives, and a new sense of disquiet,
a disquiet that every reader of the 1987 Of Spirit will take to be justiἀed.
As a lways, Versammlung or “ gathering” i s a t t he co re o f D errida’s di s‑
quiet. Yet in t he t exts s tudied in Geschlecht IV, especially t hose f rom t he
1930s, it is the gathering of Kampf and Auseinandersetzung, struggle and
confrontation, that D errida wa nts a nd n eeds t o un derstand. H eidegger’s
insistence t hat t here i s such a t hing a s “a p eople’s hi storical D
asein,” and
that Dasein stands in ur gent need of decision, and furthermore that both
the Volk and i ts hi storical D asein are one, so t hat the de cision w ill b e
grandiose, all‑encompassing and all‑compelling, is nothing short of mili‑
tant. H eidegger’s co nἀdence in t he G reek‑German “ spiritual” axi s a nd
his scarcely hidden contempt for all that runs counter to that axis in the
history of the Western world, and especially for everything that comes out
of t he M editerranean, w hether f rom i ts n orthern o r i ts s outhern s hores,
are e qually di sturbing. Most di squieting p erhaps i s Heidegger’s f righten‑
ingly limited perspective on the destruction and the deaths of World War
II. I n t he t ransition f rom t he f ourth t o t he fifth le cture h our o f What Is
Called Thinking? which, t o r epeat, was t he ἀrst le cture course Heidegger
was a llowed t o t each a fter h aving b een b anned f rom uni versity t each‑
ing b y t he p ostwar den aziἀcation co mmittee, H eidegger ur ges hi s s tu‑
dents t o v isit a n exhi bit o n G erman p risoners o f wa r. H e a sks t hem t o
heed the exhibit’s “soundless voice” and never to let that voice fade from
their “inner ear” (WhD? 159). W ho could object to Heidegger’s desire to
encourage Andenken, “commemoration”? I n t he s ame le cture co urse h e
invokes the s ufferings of hi s divided land, a nd who co uld deny the p ain
of di vided fa milies in t he E ast a nd West o f G ermany? I do n ot k now a
single German national of my own generation or the preceding one who
bears no scars from the terrible experiences of those terrible times.
And y et. W here do w e ἀn d in H eidegger’s w orks a sin gle p assage
in w hich h e ur ges hi s s tudents t o v isit t he de ath c amps, t o de velop a n
“inner e ar” f or t he s uffering o f o thers? (L uckily, a s fa r a s I c an s ee a nd
hear, almost every German alive today has developed such an ear without
Heidegger’s assistance.) Where do we ἀnd, in his evocation of the historical
existence of a “ people,” as though they were one, the slightest reference to
German Jews o r t o t he s htetl Jews o f e astern Europe, t o t he R oma c lans,
to members of different classes, to members of the Social Democratic and
Social Revolutionary parties, who themselves have a very highly developed
sense of “decision,” to city dwellers and country dwellers, for all of whom
the n ature a nd t he ext ent o f t he s uffering differ dra matically f rom t hose
of t he m ainstream? P erhaps D errida’s de epest w orry i s t hat H eidegger’s
compulsion t o ga ther a nd t o r esist a t a ll cos ts di ssemination a nd di sper‑
sion, e ven w hen s uch gathering p aints i tself in H eraclitean co lors, i s p re‑
cisely w hat o bscures Heidegger’s p erspective a nd in hibits hi s im agination
and hi s em pathy w ith r egard t o t he o thers? W hen H eidegger m akes hi s
plea f or a h earing t hat “h olds ἀr m,” das standhaltende Hören, and w hen
he p raises t he h earing t hat o ccurs in t he “ inner e ar” f or h eeding o nly
what h as “genuine s ubsistence,” eigentlichen Bestand (39:202), o ne h as t o
remember t hat Bestand is a lso t he m etaphysical remnant of “permanence
of presence,” Beständigkeit des Anwesens, in t he form of t he technological
stockpile. The more de cisively Heidegger t ries t o “gather,” t he m ore li kely
he i s t o co llapse b ack in to t he m etaphysics h e dr eams o f o vercoming o r
of leaving to its own devices. It is as though his decisionism obstructs the

capacity f or de cisions. I t i s a s t hough H eidegger’s o ne e ar, t he inn er e ar
that is instructed to hear only one thing, and Heidegger’s one hand, along
with the one friend who seems to have no face and no gender, deprive him
of the richness of experience that two ears, two hands, and the friends for
whom one yearns and suffers can provide. Perhaps what troubles Derrida
most deeply is that the procedure of Destruktion, which enables Heidegger
to di smantle a nd t hink cr itically a bout t he hi story o f o ntology, i s n ever
applied b y H eidegger him self t o w hat h e c alls das Erbe, “inheritance,” in
the s ense o f a c ultural legac y a nd a n ational h eritage. F or t he p rocedure
of Destruktion, which s erves a s t he v ery m odel f or D errida’s o wn de con‑
struction, if applied to matters of cultural and national inheritance, would
at le ast h ave s lowed t he p ace o f H eidegger’s r ush t o c hoose a h ero a nd
assemble his generation and his people into a Kampfgemeinschaft.
Without hoping to do justice to the many paths that Derrida opens
up h ere in Geschlecht IV, p aths a s sin uous a s t hose o f a nyone’s e ar, w e
can cer tainly s ay t hat t he f ourth g eneration t akes him a nd u s fa r a way
from t he t hemes o f t he Geschlecht series a s a w hole—at le ast, a s fa r a s
we know it. It takes us principally in t wo different directions: ἀrst, in t he
direction of t he cr itical questions w e h ave raised concerning Heidegger’s
militancy, decisionism, and Germanism; secondly, in t he direction of the
very book in which Geschlecht IV is published, namely, Politques de l’amitié
(1994). Discussion of that b ook’s t hemes—friendship, f raternalism, a nd
the di lemma o f a dem ocracy t hat wa nts both t o p ossess s ome s ort o f
identity and to di splay t he q ualities o f h ospitality a nd o penness t oward
strangers—will have to wait for another occasion. Throughout that book,
however, o ne co ntinues t o h ear t he q uestion t oward w hich t he mi ssing
Geschlecht, the t hird, is ur ging D errida a nd a ll o f u s. I n a t hinking s uch
as H eidegger’s, w hich in sists a lways a nd e verywhere o n ga thering a nd
uniἀcation, w hat c an di stinguish b etween t hose t wo s trokes t hat h ave
struck o ur Geschlecht, the ἀr st, w hich co ins a m ore g entle t wofold, a nd
the s econd, w hich co ndemns t he o nce a micable t wofold t o di scord, di s‑
persion, and all the evils of war?
After D errida p resented Geschlecht IV as t he k eynote addr ess at
the s econd L oyola U niversity co nference in S eptember 1989, I dr ove
him o ut t o O ’Hare A irport. W hen h e g ot in to t he c ar, h e s eemed v ery
tired. P erhaps h e wa s f eeling t he w eight o f t he en tire co nference o n hi s
shoulders, sin ce h e h ad a ttended e very p aper a nd en gaged g enerously
in t he di scussions a fter e ach p aper b efore p resenting hi s o wn lo ng a nd
rich contribution. Geschlecht IV would m ark t he en d o f t he Geschlecht
series, i ts f ourth a nd ἀn al g eneration. Y et i t w ould n ot b e t he en d o f

Derrida’s preoccupation with Heidegger. As he s ettled into t he p assenger
seat, D errida s aid, m urmuring t he w ords m ore t o him self t han t o m e,
“Heidegger—we will never get rid of his corpse.” The voice of the friend?
In any case, the voice of an endless haunting.
5
Geschlecht III
A Truncated Typescript
I n the present chapter I want to report on two things—or at least on one

and a half things. Principally, I want to oἀer an account of the typescript
that Derrida distributed to the participants in the March 1985 colloquium
organized b y J ohn Sa llis a t L oyola University o f C hicago. There D errida
presented the paper that became Geschlecht II, that is, “Heidegger’s Hand.”
The thirty‑three‑page typescript that he gave to the participants and that
he himself called Geschlecht III, was the beginning of his transcription—as
far as I have been able to discover it was never completed—of the detailed
notes for hi s 1984–85 s eminar in P aris. The s econd m atter i s the s eries
of ex changes I h ad w ith D errida co ncerning t hat t ypescript, ex changes
that were very important for my own work on Heidegger and Trakl. It is
not false humility but a reality check when I say that our exchanges were
certainly much more important for me t han t hey were for D errida, e ven
though he was, as always, very generous in his remarks to me in later years
about t hem. A s I lo ok o ver m y m arginal n otes t o t he t hirty‑three‑page
typescript, n otes t hat I s ent t o him a nd l ater di scussed w ith him, m any
of t hem m ere references t o o ther t exts o f H eidegger’s, it i s obvious t o
me now that the bulk of them were no news to him. That is to say, most
of my r emarks m erely co rroborated a nd en couraged t he dir ection o f hi s
thinking. Every now and then, but really quite rarely, I urged caution or
ventured a doubt or an objection.
I s hould exp lain t hat I p hotocopied D errida’s D INA‑4 typescript
onto t he r ight h alf o f a s heaf o f s heets m easuring e leven b y s eventeen
inches, le aving a l arge s pace o n t he left for m y m arginalia. I m ailed t he
oversized document to him sometime in the late fall of 1985 or early win‑
ter of 1986, t hat is to s ay, not many months after t he Loyola C onference
in w hich Geschlecht II was p resented. W hether o r n ot t he o riginal s till
131
exists I do n ot k now; I did n ot find i t a mong D errida’s p apers a t IMEC

in C aen. I h ad m ade a p hotocopy o f i t f or m yself b efore s ending i t o ἀ,
and it is from this photocopy that I am now working.1
The typescript has special importance for me, inasmuch as my own
work, s uch a s i t i s, in volved Trakl e arly o n. A foyer I wa s p rivileged t o
share with Derrida involved the eleventh chapter of the Intimations book
(IM), a c hapter dedicated t o him j ust b efore t he b ook w ent in to p rint.
(Derrida ci tes t he c hapter n umber in correctly in Geschlecht II, listing i t
as the fourteenth ra ther than t he eleventh—and last—of the book; y et I
have a lways b een g rateful f or t he ci tation.) W hen h e first s aw a co py o f
Intimations at P erugia in 1986, h e r ead a loud in o ne b reath t he c hapter
number, t itle, a nd de dication a s t hey a ppeared o n t he o pening p age o f
the chapter: “Eleven  .  .  .  Strokes of Love and Death  .  .  .  for Jacques Der‑
rida.” He turned to me and said with a smi le, “Frankly, I prefer the eleven
strokes of love.” That was at the Collegium Phaenomenologicum, which I
was directing that summer of 1986, to which Derrida contributed a lecture
during t he co ncluding w eek. D uring t he m onths t hat p receded t he C ol‑
legium, w e h ad co rresponded a bout Geschlecht III. Some o f m y queries
and o bservations co ncerning hi s t ypescript, I b elieve, b ecame im portant
to him—f or exa mple, t hose h aving t o do w ith H eidegger’s 1929–30 le c‑
ture co urse, w hich h ad o nly r ecently a ppeared a nd w hich h ad m uch t o
say a bout t he p roblem o f animality, a p roblem h e h ad a lready b roached
in Geschlecht I. Yet, t o r epeat, a s I lo ok o ver m y m arginalia t o D errida’s
typescript n ow, I a m s truck b y h ow in significant m any o f t hem a re; a nd
yet D errida him self a lways exp ressed g ratitude f or t hem. S uch g racious‑
ness, I repeat, since it cannot be repeated often enough, was typical of him.
Let me try to follow the movement of the typescript pages—even
if t he first t hing t hat must b e noted is t hat t hey contain t he mere b egin‑
nings of a transcription. Derrida appends a note to the end of the script,
saying that d ue t o l ack of t ime he wa s un able to e dit his n otes t o s ome
five later sessions of the seminar—perhaps a hundred pages’ worth of text,
environ une centaine de pages. These are the pages we will take up in t he
1. In a let ter d ated N ovember 8, 1985, I t ell D errida t hat I h ave b een r ereading t he t ypescript
(which I t here call “the second half of Geschlecht II”) and that I h ave made many marginal notes
on t he t ext, p romising t o b ring i t w ith m e o n my u pcoming v isit t o Paris o r t o m ail i t t o him.
He does not acknowledge receipt of the notes until March 13, 1986. His reception of my notes
to the typescript, which he calls “un ‘draft’ de Geschlecht III,” notes that were clearly excessive,
was as usual overly generous. The same letter refers to the planned conference on Heidegger at
the University of Essex in mid‑May 1986. I w ill cite the typescript and its marginalia in the body
of my t ext by p age number in p arentheses. Fin ally, I in tend t o dep osit a co py o f t he t ypescript
(with my notes) at IMEC in April of 2014, so that it is available to the public.
Geschlecht III: A Truncated Typescript 133
next c hapter. H e a sks t hose t o w hom h e h as di stributed t he t ypescript

not t o cir culate i t o r ci te i t (a s I a m co nstantly t empted t o do h ere): t he
typescript is entirely provisional and incomplete. I w ill for t he most p art
continue to follow to the letter Derrida’s instruction not to cite, though I
will refer my own marginal notes to the typescript.
The typescript begins by stressing that it intends to follow the rhythm
of H eidegger’s T rakl es say, w hich i s a nything b ut r egular o r r ectilinear.
Rather, H eidegger o ften g oes in cir cles, v ery m uch li ke t he R obinson
Crusoe t hat D errida w ill l ater co ntrast w ith H eidegger’s s elf‑proclaimed
Weg, the path of thinking that presumably moves forward. Yet e ach o f
Heidegger’s paths advances by leaps and bounds, some of them calculated,
most of them responding to another t hinker or p oet—in t his case to t he
phantom of t he other w ho is c alled G eorg Trakl. In t he present s eminar,
Derrida i s e verywhere co ncerned w ith H eidegger’s manner, his manière,
his wa y o f handling T rakl’s p oetry now. A fter a le cture o n H eidegger’s
hand, la main de Heidegger, this stress on manière, manœuvre, and main‑
tenant should hardly surprise us. Q uestions of method t hus dominate
this third generation in i ts opening phase, namely, the method that must
surrender t he u sual f orms o f di scursivity in o rder t o f ollow t he r hythms
of Trakl’s poetry.
Here I urged Derrida—superfluously, one must say, inasmuch as
he needed n o s uch ur ging—to look a gain at Heidegger’s remarkable
insistence on rhythm in Unterwegs zur Sprache (US 38, 65, 75). F or here
Heidegger c laims t hat rhythm is t he n ame in m etaphysical aes thetics f or
the wa ve t hat flows f rom t he co ncealed si te ( die Woge der verborgenen
Ortschaft) of Trakl’s p oetry. I n oted that such a wave h as to do w ith the
“source,” die Quelle, that Heidegger writes about in his Erläuterungen zu
Hölderlins Dichtung (EHD 123, 130, 138, 146); it is the hidden source of
the wave of p oetry a s s uch. As hidden, i t h as t o do w ith w hat Trakl w ill
call das Fremde, the foreign and strange.2
2. I h ad w ritten a bout t he t heme o f r hythm in H eidegger d uring t he l ate 1970s, s o t hat t he
starting p oint o f D errida’s s eminar h ad g reat im portance f or m e—hence m y s upererogatory
urging. The w ork o n r hythm wa s l ater p ublished in t wo p laces, first a s “ The W ave’s S ource:
Rhythms o f P oetic S peech,” in Heidegger and Language, ed. D avid Wood (Warwick, En gland:
Parousia Press, 1981), 25–50; r evised and expanded, it then appeared as the third chapter of LV,
“The S ource o f t he Wave: R hythm in t he L anguages o f P oetry a nd Thinking.” A lthough Trakl
remained t he f ocus, t he i ssue o f r hythm a s “coinage,” “articulation,” a nd e ven “ fettering,” a rose
in q uite diἀ erent p laces—for exa mple, in H eidegger’s w ork o n A ristotle a nd D errida’s o n P aul
Valéry, in Hölderlin’s account of the caesura in tragedy and Heidegger’s account of the rhythm
of presencing and absencing in the granting of time and being.
Derrida t hus “ follows” H eidegger acco rding t o t he m anner a nd

rhythm in which Heidegger “follows” Trakl, t he poet himself “following”
the s tranger, t he b rother, a nd t he si ster—all o f t hem em bodied in w hat
Trakl evokes as “blue game,” ein blaues Wild. The word suivre, which has je
suis as its first‑person form, confounding “following” with “being,” hence
with Heidegger’s Sein, was surely one of Derrida’s favorite words. It forms
the heart of one of his finest titles, L’Animal que donc je suis, “the animal
that I a m—and t hat t herefore I (a m t o) f ollow.” Yet “ following” in t he
present instance, a s in a ll t he others, w ill n ot m ean compliance: D errida
announces his intention to go slow precisely when and where Heidegger
speeds up, and perhaps to leap forward when and where Heidegger seems
to p rocrastinate o r t o a void. On ce a gain, D errida em phasizes t he t wo
poles of Heidegger’s philosophical confrontation with Geschlecht, the 1928
lecture course on the transcendence of neutral Dasein and the 1953 Trakl
piece—on w hich t he P aris s eminar w ill f ocus. W hile i t w ould b e f ool‑
hardy t o a ssert t hat t hese t wo d ates s pan Heidegger’s c areer o f t hinking,
as t hough one could reduce it a ll t o t hese references t o Geschlecht, t here
seems to be some rapport or relation b etween them, even if t hat rapport
itself ( Bezug, Zug, ziehen, entziehen, etc.) w ithdraws f rom sig ht. A t t he
outset, Derrida notes that the primary problem will be the two strokes that
constitute Geschlecht, especially the second stroke, the one that introduces
dissension or discord into the twofold (2). Geschlecht is in the first place a
“mark,” not even a sign, for twofolds, that is, for the word itself and for the
“thing” referred to. Yet what could this “thing” be? We have already heard
how m any s enses t he w ord c an h ave, a nd in h ow m any co mbinations i t
can appear. D errida ci tes Geschlechtsverkehr, sexual ac tivity o r “traffic”; I
jotted alongside his reference the word Geschlechtsverhältnis, sexual “rela‑
tion.” Here the “thing” seems to be relation or rapport as such, the relation
of two remarkably diἀerent forms of a twofold, the first apparently neutral,
the second discordant, deleterious, destructive, “dissensional.” What does
it mean, then, to “relate” 1928 to 1953?
For a bout six o r s even p ages o f t ext (2–8), D errida f ocuses o n
the p roblem o f t he type of r eading t hat b oth H eidegger a nd h e him ‑
self a re a ttempting, type understood in t he s ense de veloped b y P hilippe
Lacoue‑Labarthe’s Typographies.3 The t ype o f r eading, f or H eidegger,
3. Derrida en ters a lo ng n ote o n L acoue‑Labarthe’s Le sujet de la philosophie: Typographies I

(Paris: Flammarion, 1979), early on in the typescript. I added a note on Lacoue’s Typographies II,
which has the title L’imitation des modernes (Paris: Galilée, 1986), and which develops the theme
of the uncanny, das Unheimliche (see esp. 229–55). This could contribute much, I adde d, to t he
questions of the foreign, das Fremde, and of “philosophical nationality and nationalism” in general.
involves t he r eciprocal r elationship o f Erläuterung and Erörterung, t hat

is, of t raditional co mmentary o n, o r e lucidation o f, p articular p oems
(but c hosen h ow? in w hat o rder? a nd u pon w hat b asis? ), a nd t he m ore
demanding p lacement—that i s, t he situating—of T rakl’s uniq ue un sung
poem in i ts r ightful a nd es sential p lace. A re t hese t wo t ypes, s trokes, o r
blows o f r eading—for e very τ ύπος i s a lso a Schlag, a “ stroke” o r “ beat”
that is t he very root o f Geschlecht—truly r eciprocal? Or i s there here a n
order of method, if n ot of implication? At all events, Derrida stresses that
his own reading of Heidegger’s Trakl can never be tranquil or self‑assured.
Above all, it cannot tranquilly accept—or even comprehend the meaning
of—Heidegger’s insistence that in Trakl there are two strokes of Geschlecht,
the first neutral, the second malignant. No known procedure of reading—
whether h ermeneutical, p hilological, cr itico‑theoretical, o r p oetic—will
adequately c haracterize H eidegger’s manner; none w ill t ell u s h ow H ei‑
degger handles Trakl’s poetry. Inasmuch as Heidegger himself incessantly
raises the question o f Dichten und Denken, always wanting to a llow or
enable hi s o wn t hinking t o b e s haped a s a r esponse t o p oesy, t he h and
of Heidegger—presuming it, the hand, is only one—must be scrupulously
observed, its every gesture examined and queried.
With regard to the Ort implied in Erörterung, “placement,” Derrida
notes Heidegger’s acceptance of the supposition that there is a place, that
a lo cale a lready exi sts f or Trakl’s sin gular un sung p oem o r Gedicht, and
that s uch a lo cale c an b e lo cated. A “ discussion” o f p oetry, t hat i s, eine
Erörterung in its everyday sense, seems to guarantee the Ort and Ortschaft,
the “place” and its “locale,” which serve as the very root of Er‑ört‑erung.
It c learly c annot b e a p oint in g eometric s pace t hat H eidegger i s s eek‑
ing; poetry is not a “thing” that lies at hand before us, an item in and of
Vorhandenheit. To Derrida’s references to Heidegger’s 1957 Der Satz vom
Grund and 1955 Über die “Linie,” I added a reference to Heidegger’s “Con‑
versation w ith a J apanese” (US 121). There H eidegger, a s a “ questioner,”
seeks a p rocess by w hich m ere commentary ( Erläuterung) c an b ecome a
placement ( Erörterung). I n t hat “ Conversation,” H eidegger r efers t o t he
Trakl article in q uestion. The reference is important because it shows that
placement i s m ore f undamental, m ore “ founding,” in H eidegger’s v iew
than a ny s ort o f co mmentary c an e ver b e. The r elation b etween co m‑
mentary and placement is therefore not reciprocal: Erörterung is the τέλος
of every Erläuterung.
Yet w hat en ables a co mmentary t o lo cate t he p roper p lace o f a
poem? W hat sig ns point to t his lo cale o r p lace? D errida ci tes H eidegger
on t he “ original” m eaning o f t he w ord Ort a s t he p oint o f a s pear o r
lance, die Spitze des Speers. There, at the peak, tip, or point, all is gathered.
Gathering, Versammlung, is t he p rivileged sig nifier for Heidegger, a s t he

phallus is for L acan. One thinks in t his regard of D errida’s invocation of
the élytre, stiletto, and stylus, but a lso o f t he c losed o r o pened um brella,
in his 1979 Éperons, or Spurs: Nietzsche’s Styles. In the typescript, as in the
1984–85 seminar i tself, D errida do es n ot s hy f rom exp ressing a cer tain
irony: H eidegger p ermits him self t o w rite f reely a bout t he p oint o f t he
spear ei ther b ecause, w hen i t co mes t o psy choanalysis a nd a ll t he o ther
sciences of man, he is “above that sort of thing” or because, like Nietzsche,
he i s a li ttle b it los t t here—because, in t he en d, h e i s s omewhat “ inex‑
perienced” in m atters o f s exuality a nd s exual diἀ erence (9–10). P erhaps
it i s t hat v ery in experience t hat en ables H eidegger t o b e co nfident t hat
even if t hinking often pursues an Irrweg, a co nfused and confusing path,
it will eventually arrive at the place sought.
At t his p oint I en tered a s eries of remarks on t he issue of “gather‑
ing,” Versammlung, citing first of all Heidegger’s “Logos: Heraclitus B 50”
(VA 222): “ The l aying t hat ga thers [ die lesende Lege, that i s, λ όγος a s
λέγειν, a nd λ έγειν a s ὁµο λογεῖν] ga thers a ll s ending t o i tself in asmuch
as, b ringing i t f orward, i t lets i t lie b efore u s—holding e very s ort o f
presencing a nd a bsencing t o i ts p lace [ auf seinen Ort] a nd in i ts o rbit,
safeguarding everything by gathering it in to the t otality [alles ins All
versammelnd birgt].” H ow do es t he λ όγος do t his? B y m eans o f t he
Ἓν (πά ντα), “ the uniq ue‑one a s t he unif ying [ das Einzig‑Eine als das
Einende]” (VA 220). P erhaps too eager to agree with D errida, I a sserted
that e verything in H eidegger’s Versammlung co mes t o t he s ame. I n t he
fifth c hapter o f Derrida and Our Animal Others (2013), I p aid m ore
attention to t he πάντα, and to w hat Heidegger acknowledges as t he dif‑
ferentiating διαφερόµενον in a ll gathering. Yet in m y much earlier notes
to the typescript I referred to Heidegger’s emphasis on the gathering
power of t he -sam even in t he w ord einsam, “solitary” or “lonely.” Even
here, according to Heidegger, there is a gathering rather than an isolating.
In “ The Way t o L anguage” H eidegger w rites: “ Sam is t he G othic sama,
the G reek ἅµα” (US 265), t he v ery ἅµα a bout w hich D errida w rites in
“Ousia and Grammè” and in Shibboleth. Finally, I m entioned the lecture
course f rom w hich t he “ Logos” a rticle der ives, p ublished a s v olume 55
of t he H eidegger Gesamtausgabe. There H eidegger w rites, “ Gathering
[Ver‑sammlung] i s t he o riginal co ntainment in a ga theredness [ Einbe‑
halten in einer Gesammeltheit], w hich, however, a lso  .  .  .  first admits a ll
dissemination a nd di spersion [ Verstreuung und Zerstreuung]. G leaning
and ga thering, t hought in t his wa y, a re m ore o riginal t han di ssemina‑
tion and dispersion” (55:269). W hereas for Derrida dissemination leaves
only t races of s ense, recognizing as it do es t he archaic non‑origin of a ll

meaning, f or H eidegger di ssemination i s t hat p aradox o f a mig htiness
of es sence that p eters o ut in to a s cattering o f f orces, a k ind o f ontic‑
existentiel en tropy. I n t he Heraclitus le cture co urse Heidegger co ntrasts
the force of philosophy with the sheer distraction manifested by a student
who goes to the movies instead of studying (55:397).
True, H eidegger’s “ Placement” b egins w ith a pparent c aution a nd
even m odesty. D errida ci tes t he o pening lin es o f Heidegger’s Trakl es say
and comments in detail on the problem of translating the lines into French:
Placing [Erörtern] here means initially indicating the place [in

den Ort weisen]. That then means paying attention to the place
[den Ort beachten]. B oth t he in dication o f t he p lace a nd t he
attention p aid to i t are the preparatory steps of a placement
[die vorbereitenden Schritte einer Erörterung]. Yet w e a lready
dare [wagen] quite enough if in what follows we limit ourselves
to t hese p reparatory s teps. The p lacement en ds, a s acco rds a
path o f t hought, in a q uestion. I t a sks a fter t he lo cale o f t he
place. (US 37)
Derrida r emarks o n t his final p hrase, nach der Ortschaft des Ortes,
urging hi s s tudents t o r esist un derstanding t he s ubstantive Ortschaft as
a r eadily c alculable, co nfidently lo cated, a nd h andily iden tified p lace.
“Gathering” i s n ot a r ush t o j udgment. A nd y et a lready h ere, s everal
years b efore Of Spirit, Derrida ra ises t he q uestion o f t he q uestion, o f
that Nachfragen which Heidegger privileges here and almost everywhere.
Heidegger’s Denkweg is a lways a q uestioning toward and after, inasmuch
as t he preposition nach means b oth. Yet D errida corrects himself here—
as h e a lso w ill do in Of Spirit, where, p rompted b y F rançoise D astur, h e
invokes t he im portance f or H eidegger o f addr ess, a ssent, a nd r esponse
(Zuspruch, Zusage)—by saying that it is not so much the question that is
privileged; ra ther, in t he toward and after of q uestioning w e n otice t hat
it i s t he path itself t hat y ields t he q uestion. D errida r emarks o nce a gain,
as h e already has in Geschlecht II, t hat g iven this emphasis o n the p ath
it i s o dd t hat H eidegger o ἀers n o a nalysis o f t he f oot in addi tion t o t he
hand. I n oted t hat H eidegger e ven em ploys t he o ld w ord wëgen, “way‑
ing,” “opening a p ath” (US 261), s o t hat t he foot would s eem to b e more
essential than the hand on the path of thinking. For Heidegger, however,
as w e h ave h eard, t he f oot n either s peaks n or t hinks, a s t he h and s eems
to do . I t m ay b e t hat D errida i s t hinking o f B ataille’s “ The B ig Toe,” a
text t hat do es n ot s hy f rom t he f oot.4 The c losest H eidegger co mes t o

acknowledging t he f oot i s t hat p air o f “ peasant” s hoes t hat c auses s uch
a stir in a rt history circles and on w hich D errida famously comments in
The Truth in Painting.
Heidegger, in a g esture t ypical o f him, s ets a side a ll t he di sciplines
that might o therwise aid his “placement” (Erörterung) of the poem.
Neither history nor sociology nor psychoanalysis—a rare reference for
Heidegger to make, even by way of rejection, as though implicitly recog‑
nizing t hat t here i s a g reat de al in a nd a bout Trakl t hat w ould dra w t he
analysts—nor a ny o f t he s ocial s ciences, w ith a ll t heir f ormulae, c an a id
the t ask o f p lacement. A nd if t he psy choanalyst, smi ling w ryly, s hould
observe t hat Heidegger is ig norant of t he phallus as t he privileged sig ni‑
fier, Heidegger w ould reply, w ithout a smi le, t hat sig nification requires a
topology if it is ever to take place, so that the search for the Ort comes
first (10). N ot e ven p hilology o r Literaturwissenschaft of t he u sual s orts
will a id t he p lacement, e ven if H eidegger him self in vokes the “ original
meaning” of German words such as Ort as signposts along his way. Always
and e verywhere t he g enius o f t he G erman l anguage w ill b e H eidegger’s
guide. Fichte is not far, Derrida remarks. We may therefore expect that the
“original” sense of Ort as “the point of a spear” will be such a signpost.
Heidegger w ill n ot refer t o t he w eapon a gain, n or e ven t o t he h and t hat
holds it. What is important for him, t he point of the point, is the gather‑
ing, Versammlung, where everything comes together.
At t his p oint, s o t o s peak, I r eferred D errida t o a p assage in The
Fundamental Problems of Metaphysics: World—Finitude—Solitude, a t hen
recently p ublished le cture co urse t hat y ears l ater w ould b ecome a k ey
text for him, a passage that lent another s ense t o the point of t he spear.
There H eidegger defines t he f undamental m ood o f b oredom, p rofound
boredom, as “a distension of the horizon of time [das Weitwerden des Zeit
horizontes] and the dwindling of the point of a moment [das Entschwinden
der Spitze eines Augenblicks],” in t his wa y s uggesting t hat t he l ance i s a
vector of original t ime, a v ector t hat h as a s its t ip or p oint t he g lance of
an eye, the moment of insight (29/30:228–30). No matter how patient and
painstaking a p lacement must b e, h owever, w e m ay s ay t hat t he o riginal
time of placement is pointed and sudden: in his search for the origin, den
Ur‑Sprung, Heidegger counts on what at the very end of his introductory
remarks he calls einen Blicksprung an den Ort des Gedichtes (US 39), a
4. Georges Bataille, “The Big Toe,” in Visions of Excess: Selected Writings, 1927–1939 (Manchester,
UK: Manchester University Press, 1985), esp. 20–21.
leaping glance, regard, or view, itself a k ind of Augenblick, that will guide
our vision to the place of the poem (8). Literary critics will, of course,
fault H eidegger f or t aking un accountable le aps, f rom o ne p oem o r e ven
one line or word of poetry to another, without any justification. Heidegger
is prepared t o accept s uch cr iticisms. His m ethod w ill b e one of s trokes,
leaps and bounds, jumps, even as he at times takes pains to go slow, step
by step. Such is his method. If the method has anything axiomatic about
it, i t w ould b e t he a ffirmation t hat t here w ill b e—or t here w ill h ave t o
have b een—gathering, Versammlung. For only in and through gathering
does t he p lace t ake p lace. E ven f or a co mmentary o r e lucidation, t o s ay
nothing of a situating or placement, gathering is the point.
If the psychoanalyst insists on having the last word or the last laugh,
she o r h e w ill r emark t hat i t i s o dd t hat a t ext t hat in t he en d in volves
brothers, si sters, lo vers, a nd t he s trokes o f s exuality b egins w ith a b lithe
reference to the point of a l ance. Derrida credits both Heidegger and the
analyst, deciding for undecidability: perhaps the imperturbable Heidegger
is sim ply n ot vu lgar en ough t o co ncede t o psy choanalysis t he r eduction
that i t cra ves; p erhaps a lso a n in experienced H eidegger i s un able t o s ee
beyond the tip of his nose in matters of, say, sexuality—or of politics (10).
Heidegger insists that Trakl’s solitary poem, into which all his indi‑
vidual p oems are gathered, a s t hough r unning down t he s haft of a l ance
to i ts point, r emains unspoken. Such i s t he c ase w ith e very great p oet,
says H eidegger, w ho do es n ot do ubt t hat h e c an t ake t he m easure o f
great p oetry, a nd o f g reat a rt in g eneral, a s t hat w hich i s ga thered in
a singular and silent place. I noted in the margin the irony of a uni‑
fied p lace, t he sin gular s pace o f a sin gle un sung p oem, t hat w ill h ave
to do w ith en dless t wofolds: Zwie‑falt, Zwie‑spalt, Zwie‑tracht brought
together in a Zwie‑gespräch or di alogue. W hat o ne m ust do—accep ting
Heidegger’s a lternation o f t he (n on)metaphor o f t he l ance—is f ollow t he
radically diἀ erent figure o f t he wa ve, la vague, die Woge, that i s, f ollow
the rhythm in T rakl’s p oetry t oward i ts s ource (11–12). D errida defines
the G reek s ense o f t his w ord ῥυ θµός a s t he r egular, un dulating flow o f
water, b ut I n oted t hat f or Heidegger t he s ense i s g enerally n ot flow b ut
Gepräge, articulation, coinage, imprint, or even chain and fetter—in short,
the τύπος—as L acoue‑Labarthe emphasizes. Here Heidegger f ollows t he
lead of the classicist Thrasybulos Georgiades (LV 62–64). I nsofar as there
is a rhythmic wave, however, Heidegger asserts that it bubbles from a hid‑
den s ource, s o t hat t he s earch for t he p lace of t he un spoken p oem must
in a ny case n ot follow t he flow b ut t race i t back toward its s ource. I n a
marginal note I r ecalled Hölderlin’s Andenken and Der Ister: t he D anube
flows into the Black Sea, that is, into the foreign, and yet the poet follows
it in t he dir ection o f Hauß und Heimat, house a nd ho meland. I f o ne i s
to un derstand rhythm without r eference t o a m etaphysical aes thetics o r
to technical prosody, one must perhaps take it to be the relation of the
unspoken poem and the written p oems of the p oet. The movement back
and f orth, f rom poems t o unspoken poem, and f rom t he silent poem to
the individual poems, manifests the periodicity of the wave of rhythm.
The two senses of rhythm, namely, coinage versus flow, and the two
figures, t o w it, p oint o f t he l ance v ersus wa ve, r eminded m e o f t he first
text by Derrida that I had read carefully, that is, Spurs. I jotted a note into
the margin of t he t ypescript affirming once again t he figure of t he wave.
Hölderlin, in In lieblicher Bläue, asks whether there is a measure on earth,
and hi s answer i s t hat t here i s n one. S o it i s, I w rote, for t he Erörterung.
The p oint o f t he épée is a lso a n éperon, the s par o r s pur o f t he s hip in
Derrida’s first Nietzsche book, the ship that causes Nietzsche, in The Gay
Science, to exclaim, “It’s t he women!” A nd, precisely a s in t hat b ook, t he
point o f t he s pur i s b oth r esisted a nd s et in m otion b y a n a potropaic
veil o r b illowing s ail, o r e ven t he o pen um brella. The s par o f t he s ailing
ship does not penetrate the sail that enables it to move. As confused and
confusing as all these figures seem to me now, at the moment they seemed
to be decisive for Derrida’s reading of Heidegger’s “method.”
Yet h ow do t he r hythms o f p articular p oems r elate t o t he m ac‑
rorhythm t hat H eidegger p resumes h e i s f ollowing ra ther t han him self
setting? W here t o s tart? Of co urse, o ne m ust s tart w ith t he in dividual
poems, in asmuch a s t he un spoken p oem i s un heard, a sig n n ot r ead.
Yet if o ne co mes t o t he p oems w ith w ooden e ars a nd a le aden h eart,
with a h ead f ull o f ide as a bout w hat p oetry i s b ut w ithout a p rior in ti‑
mation co ncerning t he si lent p lace f rom w hich t he p oems flow, i s t here
any c hance at a ll t hat a n exp erience o f p oetry w ill a rise? D errida r ecalls
for hi s s tudents t he di lemma o f t he “h ermeneutic cir cle,” f rom w hich
one do es not exit, but into w hich, as Heidegger s ays, one must enter “ in
the r ight way.” Heidegger himself c alls t he relation b etween commentary
(or elucidation or clarification: Erläuterung) and placement (or situation:
Erörterung) a Wechselbezug, an “alternation” o r a “ reciprocal” r elation. It
is in fact, Derrida says, a rhythmic relation. Those who cannot dance to it,
no m atter h ow s ophisticated t heir r hetoric and aes thetic, w ill gain n oth‑
ing b y either co mmentary o r p lacement. D errida t akes s ome pains w ith
the w ord Erläuterung, which i s “clarification” in t he s ense o f a w ine t hat
clarifies through lo ng s edimentation. Das Lautere is t he p ristine, lim pid,
clear—a ray of lig ht t hat s hines t hrough e verything a p oem s ays. That i s
what a “ commentary” o ught t o s ee a nd s ay. I n a m arginal n ote I a sked
him whether das Lautere, the clear, might have any relation to das Lauten,
the “sounding” of a poem, as in Heidegger’s Ge‑läut der Stille. “To clarify,”
in Greek, is κλύζω; to sound is κλύω. Could they have a co mmon source,
just a s φ ωνή a nd φ αίνω, s ound a nd lig ht, s eem t o b e r elated? E ven if
classical philologists should cry out in dismay?
What precisely determines the thoughtful conversation between think‑
ing a nd p oetizing, t he co nversation o r denkendes Zwiegespräch t o w hich
Heidegger constantly appeals? For Heidegger, to persist in s uch a conversa‑
tion or exchange, with the verses of any given poem achieving their rhythm
as t hey flow f rom t he si lent s ource o f t he un spoken p oem, i s t he cr ucial
matter. He distinguishes between two sorts of conversation or dialogue with
poetry: t he “ proper” o r “ appropriate” co nversation i s t hat b etween p oets,
although such an appropriate dialogue does not exclude the possibility of a
second di alogue, i tself q uite n ecessary, n amely, t hat b etween t hinking a nd
poetizing. Not philosophy and poetry, in a ny case, but Denken und Dichten.
What the two dialogues share, according to Heidegger, is an “exceptionally
significant” (ausgezeichnet) relation to language. Derrida adds that such an
exchange between thinking and poetizing involves both speech (parole) and
signs—the very signs and signings marked in t he word significant. Yet with
what en d in v iew—especially in t he c ase o f t he di alogue b etween p oet‑
izing a nd t hinking? F or Heidegger, t he “place” o f “placement” i s es sential.
Learning t o dwell within language i s t he g oal o f s uch a di alogue. M ortals
in our time must, according to Heidegger, learn the art of dwelling anew.
The exchange w ith p oetry, w hich would b e t he t hinker’s apprenticeship in
dwelling within language, has scarcely begun in our time, he says (US 39).
He a lso co ncedes t hat s uch di alogue m ay en danger t he p oem, o bscuring
it rather than either elucidating or situating it. The worst danger would be
that t he t hinker in terrupt t he r epose o f t he p oem, t he r epose in w hich i t
sings rather t han speaks. Song ( Singen, Gesang) i s t he proper p ossibility of
poetry, says Heidegger. Derrida notes that he is unsure whether he ought to
refer to the charm of poetry, charm in its Latinate‑Valérian sense, the sense
of carmen. Heidegger r esists s uch exp ortation t o t he L atin‑Mediterranean
region, and yet there is reason—especially in m atters of music, dance, and
song—to enter into the foreign. Even to go south.
At this point I jotted a note on the transition from saga to song, from
Sage to Gesang. Heidegger insists on the importance of this t ransition, at
the heart of which, he says, is the experience of pain, Schmerz. Pain, which
Heidegger s ays a lso in cludes t he p ossibility of j oy, i s in fac t t he result of

the in terplay b etween j oy a nd m ourning. S uch p ain p lays a sig nificant
role in t he p oetry o f T rakl, b ut a lso, in H eidegger’s v iew, e verywhere
in p oetry (US 26–27, 61–64, 235). I n m y ex changes w ith D errida, b oth
by let ter a nd in co nversation, I ur ged him t o t ake u p t his q uestion o f
Schmerz, which I f elt h e h ad left largely o ut o f acco unt. I n a m arginal
note t o t he t ypescript I v entured t he possibility t hat Heidegger’s carmen
or charme would h ave t o do w ith e cstatic t emporality, w hich in Being
and Time Heidegger describes as Entrückung, the raptures of temporality.
This, I v entured f urther, wa s t he s ense o f t he p assing o f t ime in T rakl’s
geistliches Jahr, the “spiriting” y ear. Without k nowing v ery c learly w hat I
was saying, I suggested that for Heidegger Singen, µέλος, Lied, and Gesang
all s erve a s t he “gathering of s aying” (US 229: Versammlung des Sagens).
Yet t here i s n othing t riumphant in s uch ga thering. R ather, if carmen is
incantation a nd c hant, r une a nd r hythm, c ult h ymn a nd ep igram, a nd
if t he in terplay o f j oy a nd m ourning c an b e des cribed a s a s truggle, a n
ἀγών, then there may be agony in i t, and that would surely be a w ord for
Schmerz. However far‑fetched these jottings of mine were, I f elt that they
may have had s ome impact w hen, years l ater, I h eard and t hen read one
of the last (and most difficult) s ections of De l’esprit (DE 173–76), w here
Schmerz plays an important role.
Derrida do ubtless r emains s uspicious o f t his a ppeal t o s ong. H ei‑
degger s eems to pretend t hat h e i s n ot reading Trakl’s p oems, a s t he rest
of u s m ust do , b ut hearing Trakl’s s ong, a s t hough h e h as unm ediated
access to the voice of the poet. Phono‑logo‑centrism is not far. In a n ote,
I o bjected, p erhaps f eebly, t hat t he “song” i s n ot in t he ide alizing t hroat
of the thinker‑philosopher himself, that it is not the mere auto‑aἀection
of hearing and understanding oneself while speaking; in the case of Trakl,
at least, the song is sung by the defunct brother who appears at eventide
on t he f orest r im—far a way a nd u tterly f oreign. Yet D errida’s s uspicions
concerning Heidegger, not Trakl, are not confined to t he question of t he
poet’s song. For Derrida, the appeal to some sort of Zwiegespräch, a con‑
versation b etween t wo, i s i tself a maneuver, a s leight (o r s light) o f h and
(16). Heidegger’s is a gesture of modesty and imperiousness at one and the
same t ime, modest insofar as it submits t hinking a lways and e verywhere
to the poetry of the poet, dedicating itself to the mere “placement” of the
poem, imperious insofar as it rules out of court all the contributions that
literary cr iticism a nd o ther di sciplines mig ht o therwise m ake t o s uch a
placement. Heidegger claims for his own thinking an access to the essen‑
tial experience of p oetry and l anguage in g eneral. At t imes it s eems t hat

not e ven t he p oet w ill h ave m uch t o t ell t he t hinker a bout t he es sential
place o f t he p oem. To b e s ure, Heidegger co ncedes t hat o ne m ust b egin
with t he “ spoken p oems”; t here i s n o imm ediate acces s t o t he un sung
poem, n o y ellow b rick r oad t o O z. Yet in s ome s ense i t do es n ot m atter
which poems Heidegger comments on, if indeed all the poems are marked
by a cer tain co nsonance, a cer tain uni ty, a s t hough r ising o n t he cr est
of a sin gle wa ve o f r hythm, c hanting in Einklang or acco rd, a nd t hus in
some way announcing their appurtenance to the unsung, singular p oem.
According to Heidegger, the Grundton or tonic of Trakl’s unspoken
and singular poem is determined by the emphatic Ein of E i n Geschlecht.
That will have been (Derrida uses the future perfect tense here) the place
of placement, the place for a conversation (Zwiegespräch) that emphasizes
a twofold. The choice of the poems for commentary will have been guided
by t he det ermination o f t he one (17). The one of “ one Geschlecht” w ill
leap into Heidegger’s view, his Blicksprung, and reveal itself as the source
of all gathering. I commented on this portmanteau word, Blicksprung, not
a common expression in today’s German; a neologism, then, formed from
two of Heidegger’s favorite words: the Blick of Augenblick, the “moment of
insight” or sudden “glance of an eye,” joining the Sprung of Ursprung, the
“origin” t hat c an b e r eached o nly by a “ primal le ap.” Yet, a s D errida w ill
later a rgue (23–25), H eidegger’s d aring le ap p roceeds b y t he m ethod o f
“metonymic transition,” that is, by s electing a s eries of passwords (words
such as blue, soul, downgoing) for his Erläuterung of Trakl’s poems, a series
that will allow him to glide or leap from one poem to the next—all in t he
name of the unspoken poem that the Erörterung is claiming to situate.
By t his t ime in hi s a nalysis, D errida h as r eached t he en d o f H ei‑
degger’s un titled p relude o r in troduction t o “ Language in t he P oem.”
Although the introduction consists of only three pages in the forty‑five‑page
essay, in D errida’s view it decides everything that is to follow. In a n ote, I
insisted that it decides almost everything, inasmuch as the strangeness of
the brother‑sister t heme, w hich i s at t he h eart of Heidegger’s a nd Trakl’s
Geschlecht, still h as s ome surprises in s tore. Even t hough my h arping on
this t heme o f b rother a nd si ster must h ave b een ir ritating t o D errida—I
myself find it irritating all these years later—I was and still am certain that
Derrida granted the validity of the objection. If I h ad a “ thesis” I wa nted
to defend, it would be that in Trakl’s poetry the strangeness of the broth‑
er‑sister r elation, a long w ith t hat o f t he lo vers, c aused D errida t o p ost‑
pone hi s t ranscription o f t he 1984–85 s eminar, p ostpone i t i ndefinitely.
The r emainder o f D errida’s t hirty‑three‑page t ypescript m oves t hrough

the first p art o f H eidegger’s t ripartite es say a nd n ever r eally r eaches t he
second a nd t hird p arts—all in a ll, i t t reats a m ere fifteen o f H eidegger’s
forty‑five pages! The call for Derrida’s one hundred missing pages, that is,
for t he Geschlecht III that few a s yet h ave s een, t herefore arises f rom t he
desire to read Derrida’s discussion of those thirty‑five remaining pages of
Heidegger’s text, pages that have everything to do w ith the second stroke
or Schlag of Geschlecht—the s troke t hat in troduces di ssension in to t he
lives of brothers, sisters, and lovers.
Heidegger commences with the line Es ist die Seele ein Fremdes auf
Erden, “It i s s omething s trange, t he s oul o n e arth,” f rom “ Springtime o f
the S oul.” That lin e i s r epeated f our t imes in t he f ollowing do zen p ages
of t he first p art o f H eidegger’s es say. I t i s de cisive f or t he first p art hi s
Erläuterung or “commentary” on Trakl’s poetry, and it calls for the second
part. Yet D errida de cides t o “precipitate” m atters, to m ove a head m ore
quickly, e ven t hough h e r ealizes t hat t his em ulates Heidegger’s o wn g es‑
ture a nd m ay r esult in a cer tain v iolence. It b ecomes c lear in t he co urse
of t he first m ajor s ection o f H eidegger’s es say t hat t he “ place” o f Trakl’s
unspoken p oem, i ts sin gular lieu or Ort, t he one of i ts “ one Geschlecht,”
is gathered in t he w ord Abgeschiedenheit, “apartness,” or e ven “departed‑
ness.” H eidegger f ollows t he s tranger—dem Fremdling, though n ot t he
sister, not der Fremdlingin, one must add—in to the si tuation o f a part‑
ness, s o t hat t he q uestion o f t he f oreign a nd s trange, das Fremde and
ein Fremdes, n ow a rises (18–22). I n oted f or D errida t he p ejorative u se
of t he w ord Abgeschiedenheit in Being and Time. There H eidegger u ses
the word as though it meant sheer escapism. To it he counterposes die
vorlaufende Entschlossenheit, the open resolve that runs ahead in a p roper
being‑toward‑the‑end, enabling us to be equal to (mächtig zu werden) the
power that death exerts in our lives, in spite of all the distractions of con‑
temporary existence; thus Dasein sallies forth and disperses all the subter‑
fuges a nd fa lse es capes t hat w ould o bscure t he si tuation o f i ts m ortality.
Wanting t o h ave a co nscience, Gewissenhaben wollen, is n ot s ome s ort
of apartness t hat flees t he world, keine weltflüchtige Abgeschiedenheit (SZ
310). O pen r esolve g rants D asein t he p ossibility o f a ttaining p ower (t he
mächtig of mächtig zu werden is quite close to the Mächtigkeit des Wesens
that we have seen at work in 1928); r esoluteness is thus not some sort of
flight from the world into monastic apartness. Here one can measure the
distance b etween 1928 a nd 1953: H eidegger t he p henomenologist t akes
arms against otherworldliness, whereas Heidegger the thinker of being
follows t he s tranger in to e ver g reater r emoteness a nd a partness, e ven if
he do es r eject t he P latonic‑Christian s ense o f o therworldliness. L ike t he

Kafka who s ays t hat t here is never enough nig ht w hen he is w riting, t he
thinker c an n ever b e fa r en ough apart f rom t he sn ares of e verydayness.5
Derrida h ears in t he w ord Abgeschiedenheit its do uble t onality. A
recluse or solitary knows the meaning and the importance of living apart.
And t he def unct, t he de ceased, t he de ad, if t hey k now a nything a t a ll,
know w hat it m eans t o b e dep arted. The French t ranslation s ays Dis‑cès,
playing upon décédé, deceased, but retaining the dis- of separation and the
critical c apacity, a s in di s‑cernment, t he p erspicacity o f t he r ecluse. The
coinage—itself the result of a Schlag of Geschlecht—attempts to retain the
being under way of departure and to indicate a dying that is fateful but not
fatal. In a second note, I suggested that this might be related to the theme
of the unborn, des Ungeborenen, a theme that haunts Trakl throughout his
poetry. The p oet s eems to b e in t he p osition of Karl Kraus, Franz Kafka,
and n o do ubt m any w riters a nd a rtists w ho li ved d uring t he first g reat
wave of psychoanalysis: not yet b orn, t he s even‑months’ child awaits t he
carrying t o f ull t erm t hat w ould b e ei ther b irth o r de ath. S uch Dis‑cès
would t hus h ave t o do w ith Untergang, the “ downgoing” t hat i s a lso a
persistent theme in the poems. If one follows the stranger in Trakl’s poetry
at all, one follows him in den Untergang hinab, in downgoing. Finally, or
better, b y wa y o f co mmencement, D errida n otes t hat t he “ situation” o f
Trakl’s poem leads us ineluctably to the question of animality (18).
5. I did n ot know at the time of my exchange with Derrida that Adorno, in “ Parataxis,” chooses
this very word, Abgeschiedenheit, to name t he essential place of Hölderlin’s poetry—or, m ore
specifically, t he eἀ ect o f t he language of t hat p oetry. A dorno’s es say wa s w ritten in 1963, t en
years after Heidegger’s Trakl piece. It is an essay that is ardent to refute Heidegger on Hölderlin
and on all things, but one that reverts to Heidegger nolens volens over and over again. Here too
there a re p hantoms a t w ork. S ee Theodor W. A dorno, “ Parataxis,” in Noten zur Literatur, ed.
Rolf Tiedemann (Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp, 1981), 447–91; f or an En glish t ranslation, s ee
Notes to Literature: Volume Two, trans. Shierry Weber Nicholson (New York: Columbia University
Press, 1992), 109–49; n otes o n 338–41. These t wo p oints h aving b een m ade, I s hould add t hat
the relative neglect of Untergang in Derrida’s typescript struck me as its most serious lacuna. My
marginalia ur ge D errida t o p ursue t he p lacement o f “apartness” in t he dir ection o f do wngoing
(Untergang), pain (Schmerz), and the possibility of song in agony—the darker side of Heidegger’s
placement o f Trakl, t he side t hat s eems t o m e t o b e m ore fa ithful t o t he Grundton of Trakl’s
poetry—even if Geschlecht III forces me to doubt the grounds of every Grundton, no matter how
somber. I m ust h ave co ntinued t o h ound D errida a bout s ong, p ain, a nd do wngoing o ver t he
years. In S eptember 1989 h e sent me a co py of the first edition of Glas, which was by that time
out of print, inscribing it with the remark that this work of the early- to mid‑1970s “was already
founded on Schmerz, Trauer und das Sterbenkönnen.” When I reflect on the importance of Hegel’s
sister Christiane and Jesus’s Mary Magdalene in Glas, I am compelled to concede the point.
Heidegger’s situation or placement of Trakl, des cending into apart‑

ness, is, Derrida says, labyrinthique (19). Where are the Ariadnic threads
that will guide him and us? Once again, the principal thread for Heidegger
is strangeness, f oreignness, ein Fremdes. Yet in a typical gesture it is t he
Old H igh G erman m eaning o f t he w ord fremd, the o riginal‑originary
meaning o f t he w ord, t hat w ill s ave u s. D errida un derlines t he p ara‑
dox: w hat i s t o b e un derstood i s t he f oreign, t he s trange, b ut i t w ill b e
understood ex clusively in t he idio m o f H eidegger’s o wn l anguage. This
is w hat ra nkles D errida. This i s w hat co mpels him, in a co urse t itled
“Philosophical N ationality a nd N ationalism,” t o r ead H eidegger’s T rakl
essay. Admittedly, no possible translation could ever confidently cross the
frontier o f fremd. Yet do es H eidegger e ver a pproach t hat f rontier? On e
can put the matter quite crudely: Heidegger plumbs the foreign precisely
by n ever v enturing into i t; in deed, h e in sists t hat e verything f oreign c an
be t hought o nly in unserer Sprache. Yet h e s eems t o s ee t his n ot a s a
fatal entanglement but as the v ery clearing of thinking. For D errida, the
idiomatic im broglio o f t hinking i s t he un canny a s s uch—the G erman
Unheimlichkeit, which is a k ind of being not at home precisely when one
is at home. For Heidegger, the idiomatic tangle seems to oἀer the thread
of A riadne. F or D errida, t hat t hread i s f orever ra veling. D errida b oth
adores and despises—is struck by both wonder and horror at—Heidegger’s
remark during the Spiegel interview that his French friends (meant is Jean
Beaufret) confess to him t hat when they engage in t hinking they have to
think in G erman. Heidegger takes this as a s traightforward confirmation
of t he F reiburg‑Athens A xis, w hereas D errida t akes i t a s a sig n o f h ow
charming French friends can be and how easy it is to deceive oneself.6
In a lo ng marginal note, I t ried to defend Heidegger, or to interpret
the p aradox in a f riendlier lig ht. I did n ot do s o well. The note s ays t hat
if Heidegger ever truly confronts this problem of the foreign—the prob‑
lem t hat Hölderlin co nfronted s o t houghtfully in hi s let ter o f D ecember
6. Benoît P eeters r eports a m eeting b etween P ierre A ubenque a nd H eidegger in 1967 d uring
which the g reat Aristotle scholar—and admirer of the young Derrida—tries with Heidegger’s
help t o t ranslate t he co ncept o f différance, with a n a, into G erman. The c losest t hey c an co me
in German to the double s ense of the L atin differe, namely, to diἀ er and to defer, is verschieden
sein and verschieben. In spite of the apparent homophony, scheiden and schieben have distinct
radicals. Aubenque quotes Heidegger as saying, “On this point, the French goes farther than the
German” (B P 232). The F rench b ut a lso t he L atin, o ne mig ht add . A ubenque do es n ot r eport
whether H eidegger m ade t his co ncession in F rench o r in G erman, b ut o ne h opes i t wa s t he
latter—as proof that Heidegger was truly thinking when he made it.
4, 1801, t o B öhlendorἀ (CHV 2:912–14), a let ter H eidegger ci tes q uite

often—then it is in his reading of Stefan George’s “Das Wort.” There (US
225) H eidegger co ncedes a cer tain fa ilure, Versagen, a fa ilure t o “ trans‑
port” something from afar, von ferne, across the frontier of “my country’s
rim,” meines landes saum. To b e s ure, Heidegger i s a lways s ensitive t o
issues o f t ranslation: r ecall hi s l abors o ver t he s aying o f A naximander
(H 297, 302–303, 313, 318, et c.). A nd t here is t hat bon mot from t he
Parmenides lectures, which Derrida loves to cite, “Tell me what you think
of translation and I w ill tell you who you are,” an expression that Derrida
could only affirm. Yet Heidegger understands the mein land of George to
be b eyond a ll p hilosophical a nd p oetic n ationality a nd n ationalism. F or
Heidegger these would be banal problematics, too ontic and precisely too
regional for serious consideration. Thus Heidegger, apparently unaware of
the idiom he shares w ith G eorge, i s able to t ake mein land to mean “the
poetically p reserved p ossession o f t he co untry” t hat i s o ccupied b y p oet
and thinker alike, das dichterisch verwahrte Eigentum des Landes. It is all
in the neighborhood of poet and thinker. For Heidegger, Nachbarschaft is
nearness, p ropinquity, a nd Heidegger’s p resumptive n eighborhood i s t he
Western world and Western philosophy since Plato. For Derrida, however,
the unheimlich and the fremd can never be a m atter of neighborhood, no
matter how intimately they close in on us.
Heidegger, in hi s o wn l anguage, i s in s earch o f a det ermination
of a nd des tination f or t he West, t o w it, t he r eversal a nd o vercoming o f,
or co ming t o t erms w ith, P latonism. The s ense o f t hat r eversal o r co m‑
ing t o t erms b ecomes c lear w hen H eidegger in sists t hat Trakl, w hen h e
sings that the soul is something strange on earth, does not mean that the
human soul has another destination and that it is only temporarily incon‑
venienced by its “sidetracking” on earth. If our Geschlecht were dahin nur
verschlagen, in the sense that we were merely “cast adrift” or “boarded up”
on the earth, that would indicate that Trakl is a m ere Platonist. Likewise,
Heidegger insists that Trakl’s blaues Wild, “blue game,” un bleu gibier, has
“nothing bestial” about it—as though the bestial were but the shadow side
of a Platonism that has not yet been overcome in metaphysical philosophy.
It i s not a s t hough, for Trakl, t he soul h as merely failed t o find on e arth
its proper “cast” or “clan,” den rechten Schlag. Later in the Trakl essay there
will b e talk of two strokes, the two Schläge that coin humankind, so that
Derrida is attentive—as the French translation is not—to this very early
appearance o f Geschlecht, the w ord a nd t he t hing. H is co mplaint i s n ot
that the translation is inadequate but that the matter for thinking, at least
if philosophical nationality and nationalism are at issue, requires the most
painstaking a ttention t o e very s troke o f Geschlecht. Heidegger’s desir e t o

situate the poem of Trakl well outside of Platonism is what strikes Derrida
as problematic. Heidegger speaks of “Platonic doctrine,” namely, the view
that t he e arth i s t he si te o f t he s oul’s “corruption,” Verwesung. Trakl w ill
be g ripped b y t he co rrupt figure o f h umankind, b ut, in sists H eidegger,
such co rruption h as n othing t o do w ith t he P latonic co mplaint—at le ast
as Platonism understands it. Derrida does not so much want to deny this
as t o n ote h ow t he n eighborhood o f t he t hinker a nd t he p oet in volves
what one would h ave to c all en croachment if n ot invasion: t hinking w ill
tell the poet what he never can have meant.
Heidegger ci tes a n entire s eries o f n euter exp ressions, p arallel w ith
ein Fremdes, that imprint their mark on the soul in Trakl’s poetry. The soul
is “something” mortal, obscure, solitary, sick, pale, silent, and so on. In a
note, I stressed the neuter form as itself the foreign aspect of Trakl’s words,
“Es ist  .  .  .  ein Fremdes.” Very often these neuter forms get translated into
something far less strange in French. Ein Fremdes becomes l’étranger, “the
stranger,” instead of something strange, l’étrangeté. Many years ago, Véro‑
nique Fotí corrected a mistranslation of mine, when I took ein Anderes to
be “another,” in t he sense of another person, instead of “something other”
or “ something e lse,” a nd I h ave a lways b een g rateful t o h er. H ence, m y
desire to make Derrida aware of the strangeness of the form.
Derrida i s r ight to n ote t hat w hen Heidegger a sks, Doch was heisst
‘fremd’? he i s r everting t o t he f orm o f hi s q uestion Was heisst Denken?
This question means not so much “What is it that we call thinking? ” but
“What i s it t hat c alls o n u s t o t hink? ” The q uestion f or Heidegger’s si tu‑
ation or placement of Trakl is therefore: What does the word and thing
called fremd call on us to think? At all events, Derrida says, Heidegger will
cross n o f rontiers in o rder t o reply t o t his question—unless a dic tionary
of Old High G erman is such a f rontier, a f rontier of time if n ot of place.
Heidegger n ever a vails him self o f t he t reasures co ncealed in t he L atin,
Italian, Spanish, or French, to name only a few. Extraneus, straniere, extra‑
ñar—these w ords w ould le ad him t o co nsider f rontiers, b orders, in sides,
and outsides of sundry kinds. The Old High German fram means not the
unfamiliar, not what the English cognate from implies, namely, a departing
movement into the foreign; rather, says Heidegger, fram, taken “properly,”
“appropriately,” “ authentically,” eigentlich, means m oving f orward, un der
way t oward s omething t hat i s h eld in r eserve f or u s. F or D errida, t his
interpretation o f t he fram i s a n eἀ ect o f t he ga thering, das Versammeln,
that will prevent even “apartness” from becoming too strange, too foreign
for us. But who, us?
At this point I en tered a n ote from the biography of Georg Trakl—

a note that Heidegger would have banished from the realm of thinking
simply b ecause it is biographical. Yet it struck me as remarkable t hat t he
Trakl c hildren, ra ised in Sa lzburg, s poke a lmost ex clusively F rench t o
one another. Their bonne, Marie Boring, a n ative of Alsace, spoke French
with t hem, a nd t his b ecame t he l anguage o f t heir c hildhood. G eorg a nd
Gretl addressed only their parents and the locals in German. How strange
therefore t o b e r eading—in D errida’s w onderful F rench—of H eidegger’s
insistence o n unserer Sprache, especially w hen t he Trakl Kinder, ra pt t o
their os tensibly m ore t ranquil c hildhood, w ould h ave r eplied dans notre
langue, which i s o f co urse la langue de l’autre. Even H eidegger’s fa vorite
poetic f ormula—Trakl’s u se o f t he Es ist . . .  in “ Psalm” a nd “ De P ro‑
fundis”—was a n exp ression Trakl learned from the il y a of Rimbaud’s
“Enfance,” as Heidegger himself well knew.7 Because childhood comes to
play a vital role in Heidegger’s placement of Trakl, I wanted to let Derrida
know t hat h owever in adequate h e mig ht s ometimes f eel w hen t rying t o
think (in) H eidegger’s G erman, a s w e a ll do , T rakl a nd h e w ould h ave
understood one another p erfectly well. If t here were a Gespräch between
Trakl a nd Derrida, then i t w ould b e H eidegger w ho w ould b e o n t he
outside li stening in, o r t rying t o, H eidegger t rying t o t hink in F rench.
There are delicious ironies in the unaccountable encounters of poetry and
thinking, especially when one believes one may safely exclude biography.
Heidegger does not doubt that he can follow what is strange in
Trakl’s poetry. The strange, which can also be a s trange little boy or little
girl, Fremdling, Fremdlingin, does n ot “ err” o r “ wander,” b ut i s “ deter‑
mined” to have a des tination. The stranger is following a c all, einem Ruf,
7. See O B 118. E ven t hough I do n ot ci te i t in m y n ote t o D errida, w e m ay exa mine h ere t he
use of the il y a, but also the reference to the “the forest rim,” in t he third section of Rimbaud’s
“Enfance,” from Illuminations:
III
Au bois il y a un oiseau, son chant vous arrête et vous fait rougir.

Il y a une horloge qui ne sonne pas.
Il y a une fondrière avec un nid de bêtes blanches.
Il y a une cathédrale qui descend et un lac qui monte.
Il y a une petite voiture abandonnée dans le taillis, ou qui descend le sentier en
courant, enrubannée.
Il y a une troupe de petits comédiens en costumes, aperçus sur la route à
travers la lisière du bois.
Il y a enfin, quand l’on a faim et soif, quelqu’un qui vous chasse.
reminiscent o f t he c all o f co nscience in f undamental o ntology, s o t hat

Heidegger c an f ollow t he s tranger w ho i s f ollowing t he c all “ into hi s
own,” in sein Eigenes. Always a nd e verywhere, t he “ own,” t he eigen of
Eigenem and eigentlich. No real danger of wandering oἀ, straying, and
getting los t in t he f oreign. On e co uld a lmost s ay, r emarks D errida, t hat
following w hat i s s trange o r a lien i s m erely a f orm o f r epatriation. The
semantics o f w hat w ould b e extraneus are f orcibly t urned h omeward.
The c urrent s ense o f t he w ord fremd would b e r endered f oreign b y i ts
“proper” sense (21–22).
Derrida r everts n ow t o t he q uestion o f T rakl’s os tensible es cape
from or successful avoidance of Platonism. Whether in fac t “the Platonic
doctrine” c an b e lo cated or identified at a ll in t he di alogues of Plato is a
question that Derrida sets gently aside. At all events, Trakl will be placed
in a si tuation outside of Platonism, a p lace congenial to Heidegger’s over‑
coming o f m etaphysics. The s oul i s in fac t s earching f or t he e arth a s i ts
promised des tination. To dem onstrate t his, H eidegger n ow “le aps,” s ays
Derrida, to another poem, “Sebastian Dreaming,” an exorbitant le ap t hat
can b e j ustified o nly if o ne accep ts t he p remise t hat Trakl h as b ut o ne
(unsung) poem. Derrida calls this leap, albeit with some hesitation, a
“metonymic t ransition.” The hesitation h as to do with Heidegger’s insis‑
tence that rhetorical analysis always has its technical tools in h and, ready
to t inker w ith w hat t he t hinker i s c alled u pon t o co ntemplate. Yet t he
word metonymic may b e j ustified, f or H eidegger s eeks in o ther p oems
the word ein Fremdes, trusting that the new usage will clarify (by way of
Erläuterung) t he twenty‑second line of “Springtime of t he S oul.” He cites
three lin es f rom t he t hird p art o f “ Sebastian Dr eaming,” lin es t hat r efer
not o nly t o “something s trange” b ut a lso t o Untergang and t o t he co lor
blue, which will themselves prove to be metonyms:
O wie stille ein Gang den blauen Fluß hinab

Vergessenes sinnend, da im grünen Geäst
Die Drossel ein Fremdes in den Untergang rief. (T 51)
Oh, how serene a walk down the blue river

Thinking forgotten things, when in green branches
The thrush called on something strange to go down.
The metonymic leap—the leap of a Blick‑sprung—occurs when Hei‑

degger, r emembering t hat t he s oul i s s omething s trange, f eels j ustified
now in s aying t hat the soul itself i s c alled in to de cline o r do wngoing.
Soul = s trange = do wngoing = t oward a nd n ot a way f rom t he e arth. B y

means of yet another metonymic leap, this time in a poem called “Autumn
Transfigured,” Heidegger t akes t he P latonic s ting o ut o f Untergang: “Das
geht in R uh und Schweigen unter,” “In repose and silence all goes down.”
The leap seems justified, inasmuch as “Autumn Transfigured” invokes that
same blue river, yet Derrida emphasizes the “seems.” Nothing can explain
these substitutions and linkages, Derrida asserts, and while on some level
I h ad t o a gree, I en tered a lo ng n ote t hat s howed m y g reater t olerance
for Heidegger’s metonymies. Nothing explains them, that is true, I wrote.
Yet i s n ot t his Untergang a co nstant r efrain in t he p oetry o f Trakl? The
soul is c alled in to do wngoing: D errida wa nts to r esist H eidegger’s dis‑
course on finitude, but do n ot Trakl’s poems call us back to the earth and
into downgoing? The problem for me was t hat t he downgoing could not
leave intact the language of “one’s own.” Yet even so one must follow this
threnody or thanatography of Trakl’s. When Heidegger asks, “In which
silence?” and then immediately replies, In die des Toten, the silence of the
dead o ne, D errida i s r eluctant t o f ollow him. I t i s n ot de ath in g eneral
that is being invoked here, but the death of a father or of a brother, of the
father in Traum und Umnachtung or o f E lis, t he b oy w ho die d in e arly
childhood. Lacking in w isdom, if n ot in n erve, I r eminded Derrida of his
own Otobiographie of N ietzsche a nd o f w hat h e t here c alls t he log ic o f
ob‑sequence, that strange meditation on death, survival, and the mourn‑
ing o f t he de ad. A s t he v ery w ord s uggests, o b‑sequence i s a p rocess o f
following. And it follows the downgoing.
At this point, Heidegger reverts to the first poem cited, “Springtime
of t he S oul,” t hough o nly t o co ntinue hi s co mmentary o n t he t wo o ther
poems cited, namely, “Sebastian Dreaming” and “Autumn Transfigured.”
Derrida i s p erturbed by t his return, but a gain I v entured in t he m argins
to remark t hat t his is in fac t t he sig n of a n ew b eginning—that is to s ay,
of a b reak or caesura—in Heidegger’s placement. The break indicates the
rising of a second wave in the rhythm of the placement.
Es ist die Seele ein Fremdes auf Erden. Geistlich dämmert

Bläue über dem verhauenen Wald  .  .  . (T 78)
Something strange is the soul on earth  .  .  . 
But n ow—how are we to t ranslate Geistlich dämmert? A b lueness h overs

over the clear‑cut wood; these will be further metonymies on Heidegger’s
path. Yet what can the Geist of geistlich mean here?
It is the azure or blueness of either dawn or dusk, inasmuch as Däm‑

merung refers to both the rising and setting of the sun, the onset of day and
night. But “spiritual”? “Ghostly”? “Spectral”? Several pages later Heidegger
will invoke das geistliche Jahr, a phrase I felt might best be rendered as
the spiriting year. S uch “spiriting” e vokes t he co ming a nd g oing o f Gang,
Aufgang, and Untergang. Here I reminded D errida o f Heidegger’s s trange
question, in “ The A naximander F ragment,” a s t o w hether w e d wellers o f
the Evening Land, das Abendland, find ourselves today at dawn or at dusk.
Heidegger does not seem to be in s earch of some desperate coherence for
either his placement or his commentary; he seems to be acknowledging the
pain of the spiriting year. Pain? Without being able to be clear, either then
or n ow, I a ssociated t he s piriting y ear, p erhaps b ecause o f i ts t ransiency,
with the theme of Schmerz, the theme I wa s constantly urging Derrida to
take u p, h ere o nce a gain r eferring him t o s undry p ages o f Unterwegs zur
Sprache (US 26–27, 45, 61–62, 235, et c.). A nd, a gain n ot l acking n erve, I
referred him to the problematic of “datability” and “anniversary,” developed
in his own Shibboleth: For Paul de Man.
Heidegger leaps to yet another p oem, spurred by the spiriting year
and its azure, whether it be the cerulean of morn or the violet of night, the
poem called “Summer Inclines to Its End,” Sommersneige. This poem will
grant H eidegger o ther co lors, g reen a nd si lver, f or f urther m etonymies,
and it will bring him to the stranger he wishes to follow:
Der grüne Sommer ist so leise

Geworden und es läutet der Schritt
Des Fremdlings durch die silberne Nacht.
Gedächte ein blaues Wild seines Pfads,
Des Wohllauts seiner geistlichen Jahre! (T 75)
The green summer has grown so

Quiet and the stranger’s footfall
Rings through the silvery night.
Were a blue deer to remember its path,
The consonance of its spiriting years!
He b egins b y co mmenting o n t he w ords t hat e veryone f eels t o b e

perfectly comprehensible without commentary: so leise. “So discreetly,” the
French translation says; here I have written “so quiet,” though one might
venture “so hushed.” Heidegger once again reverts to O ld High G erman,

gelisian giving t he G ermans t heir w ord gleiten, the En glish t heir w ord
“to g lide,” t he F rench t heir w ord glisser. Heidegger, o f co urse, ci tes o nly
the German gleiten. The hush o f s ummer’s en d, s ummer having run i ts
course, glides imperceptibly into autumn, as the day glides into night and
night into a new day—the spiriting year.
Perhaps we are by now beginning to get a sense of Derrida’s predica‑
ment, the imbroglio of Geschlecht III. It is not difficult to see how daring
Heidegger’s le aps a nd b ounds a re, hi s m etonymies, hi s r ecursions t o t he
Old H igh G erman. A nd y et. T rakl’s v erses a re t hemselves s o d aring—
even if t hey are hushed. I r emember not one but several o ccasions when
Derrida co nfessed t o m e h ow difficult Trakl’s p oetry wa s, h ow o verchal‑
lenged h e felt. I co uld only sy mpathize—and empathize. Even n ow, after
all t he years I h ave spent a longside Trakl’s p oetry, I a m agape. Gedächte?
Is t hat s ubjunctive a contrary‑to‑fact? A nd i s the f oundling s tranger, der
Fremdling, to be identified with ein blaues Wild? And can there be a “blue
game,” as though the collective noun could be singularized? We want such
Wild v ery m uch t o b e a de er, Rotwild, even if w e h ave t o p aint i t b lue,
but co uld azur e ga me be? A nd if i t co uld b e, w ould i t b e “ thinking” o r
“remembering,” Gedächte? Heidegger at least seems to be in a b etter posi‑
tion to deal with these idiomatic and idiosyncratic difficulties than either
Derrida or I. I f Derrida never published Geschlecht III, should I n ot have
followed my own inclination to let t his all go, since it is far too difficult?
Heidegger’s are not really leaps at all, says Derrida, but hushed glid‑
ings, one metonymy slipping almost soundlessly into the next. Even if w e
suspect, as I noted in the margin, that some unexpressed intention is gath‑
ering it all, that some overarching intention is gathering the whole to some
determined si te, H eidegger guides u s b y s lipping f rom o ne lin e o f v erse
to t he n ext, o ne w ord t o t he n ext. I n fac t, hi s p ath w ill a lways t urn o n
the axis of a p articular word, turning ever so leise, leise being its law. “In
another poem,” says Heidegger, “Another poem sings  .  .  .” “Another poem
says  .  .  .” “Elsewhere.  .  .  .” Yet a ll t hese m etonymies t ake u s in t he direc‑
tion of t his gentle animal, t his impossibly blue “game,” w hich, b ecause it
remains outside of Platonism, has nothing bestial about it. If this be Wild,
it is precisely not wild; if t his be brute, it is neither brutal nor brutish. As
Derrida r ightly s ees, H eidegger’s si tuating o f Trakl’s p oetry t akes him t o
the cr ucial q uestion o f a nimality—and t he p roblematic a nimality o f t hat
living b eing t hat h as s peech. Perhaps m ore important t o Heidegger t han
being o utside o f P latonism i s a n exi t f rom t he A ristotelian definition o f
the h uman b eing a s ζ ῷον λ όγον ἔ χον. No o ne i s o f g reater a ssistance t o
Heidegger in t his respect than Nietzsche, who redefines the human being
as das noch nicht festgestellte Tier, the animal that has not yet been success‑
fully designated or even properly discovered. If the traditional earmark of
the h uman i s t hat i t h as Vernunft, that i t i s c apable o f s eizing t he t ruth
and grasping ideas, Heidegger elsewhere counters, as we have heard, that
the a pe p ossesses a Greiforgan, an o rgan f or g rasping, b ut h as n o h and.
Some other gifts will have to define both humans and other animals.
At t his p oint in D errida’s t ext, w ith t he in troduction o f t he p rob‑
lem of animality, I inserted a long series of passages from volume 29/30
of t he H eidegger Gesamtausgabe. A lready in t he let ter t o D errida ci ted
earlier, it was the theme of animality—and the related theme of the birth
of Dasein—that elicited my most extensive set of comments on the type‑
script. I f I m ay q uote t he let ter: “ Meanwhile, I wa nted t o r ecommend
volume 29/30 o f the H eidegger G esamtausgabe to y ou because o f i ts
long discussion of animality, in s ections 45–63—but also of Vereinzelung,
individuation, in s ections 2 a nd f ollowing—a di scussion t hat i s w oefully
inadequate, however! Here Heidegger allows a regressive analysis of the als
to distinguish humanity from animality: the text cries for deconstruction.”
To t he let ter I a ttached t wo p assages, o ne f rom Being and Time and t he
other from the “Letter on Humanism,” having to do w ith birth and thus,
if only by indirection, with “the unborn” and the theme of “animality.” I
did not do ubt that D errida was a lready aware o f them, but t hey s eemed
to m e t o p rovide cer tain g rounds f or r ethinking Heidegger’s r esponse t o
Trakl’s “ unborn” Geschlecht. The later passage, f rom t he “Letter,” h ere in
translation (W 157; BW 206), reads:
Of a ll t he b eings t hat a re, p resumably t he m ost difficult t o

think a re li ving cr eatures [ das Lebe‑Wesen], b ecause o n t he
one h and t hey a re in a cer tain wa y m ost c losely a kin t o u s
[uns . . . am nächsten verwandt], and on the other hand are at
the s ame t ime s eparated f rom o ur e k‑sistent es sence [ Wesen]
by an abyss [durch einen Abgrund]. In opposition to them, it
might also seem as though the essence of divinity were nearer
to us than what is so alien in living creatures [das Befremdende
der Lebe‑Wesen]; n earer, n amely, in a n es sential r emoteness
[Wesensferne] which, while remote, is nonetheless more familiar
to our eksistent essence than our scarcely conceivable, abyssal
bodily kinship with the beast.
I co mmented o n t his p assage, w hich c ame t o p lay a n im portant

role in m y Daimon Life, in wa ys t hat n ow s eem q uite o bvious: b etween
the Lebe‑Wesen and the Ek‑sistenz of Dasein or the mortal human lies a n
abyss, a fa lling‑away o f a ll g rounds, the abyss t hat w e c all “ the b ody.” I t
is the body that is alien to us. Addressing Derrida in the familiar form,
I w rote, n ot s hying f rom t elling him w hat t o do , “ You m ust find a wa y
to s how h ow—no, whether and h ow—downgoing f or H eidegger m eans
embodiment. Embodiment is the path to the unborn. Or a re the unborn,
in t heir m ore g entle c hildhood, w ithout b ody? Leib und leblos? Without
body, without life? No, the path to the living creatures, Lebe‑Wesen, leads
us do wn in to t he a byssal los s o f es sence, co rruption, Ver-Wesung. . . . Is
the si te o f Trakl’s p oetry t hat o f t he si ster in d ark co rruption, Schwester
schwarzer Verwesung? Yes, also that.”
The earlier passage (really two closely connected passages) to which
my let ter r eferred him wa s t hat r emarkable co ncession o n H eidegger’s
part t hat t he f undamental o ntology o f Being and Time may h ave b een
led astray insofar as it ignores one of the two essential “ends” of Dasein,
to wit, its birth:
However, death is only the “end” of Dasein, formally speaking

only t he one end t hat en compasses t he w hole o f D asein. Yet
the o ther “end” i s t he “ beginning,” n amely, “birth.” On ly t he
being t hat i s “ between” b irth a nd de ath r epresents t he w hole
we are seeking. Accordingly, the prior orientation of our analy‑
sis r emained “one‑sided,” in s pite o f i ts t endency t oward t he
whole that we exist and in s pite o f i ts g enuine exp lication o f
our appropriate and inappropriate being toward death. Dasein
became our theme by way of its existing “ahead,” so to speak,
leaving a ll t hat h as b een “ behind” i t, a s i t w ere. We fa iled t o
observe not only our being toward the beginning [das Sein zum
Anfang] b ut a lso a nd a bove a ll t he stretch of D asein between
birth and death. What we overlooked in o ur analysis of being
a whole was precisely the “nexus of life” [“Zusammenhang des
Lebens”] in w hich D asein co nstantly m aintains i tself o ne way
or another. (SZ 373)
One p age l ater Heidegger co ntinues t o r eflect o n t he b irth o f D asein, a s

though existence were in fact not only alive but also viviparous:
Understood existentially, birth is not—no, not ever—something

past in the sense of being no longer at hand, just as it is improper
to say that death has the mode of b eing of s omething not yet
at h and b ut co ming t oward u s f rom o ut t here s omewhere.
Factical Dasein exists as caught u p in birth a nd, caught up

in b irth, i t i s a lready d ying in t he s ense o f i ts b eing t oward
death. B oth “ends” a nd t heir “ between” are as long a s D asein
factically exists.  .  .  .  As care, Dasein is the “between.” (SZ 374)
My comments on these remarks of Heidegger’s went in the direction

of Trakl’s “unborn Geschlecht.”8 Are Trakl’s “unborn” gebürtig? I asked. As
the n o lo nger de composed Geschlecht, no lo nger t he acc ursed figure o f
humankind, a re they im‑mortal? “Certainly not! Yet how are we to find
the p ath t o t he m ortals, t he p ath t hat des cends in to Untergang? Perhaps
not at ei ther en d o f D asein, b ut p recisely t here in‑between? ” A ll o f t his,
of course, is by way of anticipation. The typescript has yet to take up in a
focused way the problem of Trakl’s (and Heidegger’s) “unborn” generation.
Let us then return to the typescript and the marginal notes.
For i t i s a t t his p oint t hat I r eferred D errida t o a n umber o f p as‑
sages in v olume 29/30 o f t he Gesamtausgabe. A s I lo ok at t hese n otes I
am astonished to find t hat t hey are t he s elfsame p assages t hat continued
to haunt and hound me during the years 2010–13, the years of Derrida
and Our Animal Others. If I a m a stonished t o find D errida r eturning in
2002–03 t o a t ext o f H eidegger’s t hat h e h ad a lready r ead in dep th a t
the t ime o f De l’esprit, 1986–87, t he a stonishment n ow b oomerangs. A s
indiscreet a s i t m ay b e, I wa nt t o q uote t hese m arginal n otes a t len gth.
Like a ll t he n otes, t hey a re w ritten in a mix o f F rench a nd G erman, b ut
I will translate them here, keeping the editing otherwise to a minimum:
I’ve already written you about Heidegger’s 1929–1930 course at

Freiburg, one year after the year 1928, w hich concerns you in
Geschlecht I. The co urse h as t wo p rincipal di visions, t he first
investigating “profound boredom” as a fundamental attunement
of D asein, t he s econd—and t his i s remarkable—discussing in
the m ost det ailed wa y t he p roblem o f t he o rganism a nd o f
life a s a “ biological” det ermination. On e co uld p erhaps s ay
that Heidegger is here looking for what there might have been
before the b estrewal, die Streuung, that D asein is. Heidegger
takes u p t he a nalyses o f U exküll a nd B uytendijk, a nalyses o f
8. At about t his t ime I ga ve a p aper to t he Heidegger Circle t hat took Heidegger’s Gebürtigsein
seriously: I in terpreted t he l ater m oment o f b irthing—and w hat i s c alled t he afterbirth—as a n
exceptional instance of the ecstatic temporality of Dasein. The paper was not well received, as I
recall. There seems to be some resistance to taking the life of Dasein seriously.
the world and environment, Welt/Umwelt, of animals. All of it

is fa scinating, a nd I a m un able t o s ummarize it h ere. B ut t he
most astonishing aspect is that Heidegger approaches something
quite new with respect to the problematic of death. Here are a
few extracts, first, on the “sex drive” (29/30:363–64): “One of the
most striking examples of this peculiar characteristic in all the
behavior [of animals], t hat t hey e liminate one another [ dieses
eigentümlich beseitigenden Charakters], i s t he co mportment
of in sects in t hat s phere o f dr ives t hat w e c all t he s ex drive
[Geschlechtstrieb]. It is well known that many females devour the
male after copulation. After copulation the sexual characteristic
[der Geschlechtscharakter] vanishes, s o that the male now has
the character of prey and so is eliminated.  .  .  .  Animal behavior
as such is in each case in itself an elimination.”
At t his p oint I in vited D errida t o co mpare H eidegger’s acco unt o f

Beseitigen to Hegel’s philosophy of nature. Then I noted another set of pas‑
sages from the lecture course (29/30:387–88), t hese ones on the problem
of death. Already it was clear to me that even though Heidegger was trying
to reserve the word dying (Sterben) for Dasein, resorting to the less hon‑
orific “perishing” o r “coming t o a n en d” ( Verenden) f or o ther lif e‑forms,
there wa s s omething in hi s o wn s elf‑critique t hat w orked a gainst s uch a
distinction. These were t he s elfsame p assages t hat came to o ccupy me in
the f ourth c hapter o f Derrida and Our Animal Others, the c hapter t itled
“Is There a Touchstone f or A ll Philosophy? ” The following note, f rom
1985, contains my first mention—my earliest awareness, I believe—of the
problem and t he promise of Erschütterung, the “agitation” or e ven “shat‑
tering” t hat t ends t o unif y w hat H eidegger wa s s eeking t o h old a part,
namely, the death of Dasein and of all other living beings. The note begins
by quoting Heidegger, then comments on his “touchstone”:
“The touchstone [der Prüfstein] for determining the suitability

and o riginality o f e very in quiry in to t he es sence o f lif e a nd
vice‑versa [t hat i s, p resumably, t he lif e o f es sence] i s w hether
the inquiry has sufficiently grasped the problem of death, and
whether i t i s a ble t o b ring that p roblem in t he correct wa y
into t he q uestion co ncerning t he es sence o f lif e.  .  .  .  Because
benumbment [ Benommenheit] b elongs t o t he es sence o f t he
animal, t he a nimal c annot die , b ut o nly p erish, in asmuch a s
we attribute dying to the human being.”
And y et at t he s ame t ime (at 29/30:396) H eidegger rec‑

ognizes t hat t here i s “an essential shattering,” eine wesenhafte
Erschütterung, in the “essence of the animal,” and it is Heidegger
who em phasizes t his. H e s ays t hat w e c annot un derstand i t
“as long a s we fail to t ake into account t he f undamental phe‑
nomenon [Grundphänomen] of the life‑process and thereby of
death.” A nd s o t he co urse s tammers a nd s tumbles, p recisely
as did the Grundprobleme course of 1927 (Gesamtausgabe
24:387): “ To en ter h ere in to a di scussion o f t he finitude o f
time i s im possible, b ecause i t i s b ound u p w ith t he difficult
problem of de ath—and t his i s n ot t he context or t he place to
discuss that.” And this is precisely what happens with the logic
course o n L eibniz (G esamtausgabe 26, §12), w here t he final
words are nihil originarium and “impotence of Dasein,” leading
to the overturning of fundamental ontology into metontology.
That’s 1928.
And 1953?
The “ corrupted o r di s‑essencing Geschlecht” i s a lways
already t he uni ty o f b rother a nd si ster  .  .  .  in lo ve a nd in
death, l’amour / la mort. Animality, in H eidegger, remains, a s
Nietzsche says, “not yet determined,” noch nicht festgestellt. Yet,
understood as a question, it is a poem that strikes us.
By now it is clear to Derrida that Heidegger’s entire “placement” or

“situating” of Trakl rotates about the history of metaphysics from Plato to
Nietzsche. It is Platonism’s denigration of the animal—along with Aristo‑
tle’s zoological definition of humankind—that is the issue. Trakl, envisag‑
ing in hi s “apartness” s omething li ke “ blue ga me,” m ust b e a ll a bout t he
possibility o f a n ew Geschlecht, a n ew g eneration, a n ew h uman race , a
new “repatriation” of the soul and the body of humankind on the earth.
It is at this point in the texts of both Heidegger and Derrida that the
discussion o f “ essence” a nd “ disessence” o r co rruption, Wesen an d Ver‑
wesung, takes a new turn. In order to identify the as yet undetermined
animal, h umankind, o ne m ust co mmit t he c urrent s tock o f h umanity t o
its corruption or disessencing. Derrida notes at this point in hi s text (27)
all the ver- words that mark the failure of humanity in all of ontotheologi‑
cal m etaphysics, i ts los s ( Verlust), i ts a bandonment b y b eing ( Verlassen‑
heit), its fall and its falling prey (Verfallen), and its inability to develop in
accord with its essence, hence, its Ver‑Wesung. Yet the displacement of the
word corruption to “disessencing” seems odd, and I noted this to Derrida.
Should not precisely the new Geschlecht accept what Platonism calls “cor‑
ruption” rather than reject it? If one abandons the decaying corpse of prior
humanity, di sgusted b y i ts co rruption, i s o ne n ot ce lebrating P latonism
rather than twisting free of it, as Nietzsche demands of us? And would not
this abnegation of corruption imply t he continued condemnation of and
contempt for the “animal”? Would this not be a continuation of Platonism?
At a ll e vents, t he n ew ga thering t hat H eidegger s eeks in T rakl’s
poetry, o r p oem, i s o ne t hat r escues t he h oly a nd t he b lue o f h eaven.
Such a ga thering w ill b e g entle, a ppeasing, w ithout wa r o r q uarrel. The
twofold of brother and sister, man a nd w oman, will be affirmed—in its
first coinage—as a “ more g entle t wofold.” On ly a fter t he s econd Schlag
strikes w ill t he t wofold turn to dissension and v iolence. This is t he story
of t he t wo s trokes o f Geschlecht, t he s tory a bout w hy t here h ave t o b e
two s trokes, a nd in w hat o rder t hey m ust co me, t he s tory t hat D errida
now wants to examine.
The new destination for our Geschlecht involves a “wandering ahead”
that is actually the return to what Heidegger calls “a more tranquil child‑
hood” a nd “ the g entleness o f a o nefold t wofold” (27). H ere t he co nstel‑
lation o f b rother a nd si ster in T rakl’s p oetry r ises a nd b ecomes fixed in
the night sky, the “nocturnal weir” of Trakl’s poem. Here one is struck
for t he first t ime—whether by t he first or t he s econd s troke or Schlag of
Geschlecht is unclear, a lthough t here is no reason to b elieve it is t he s ec‑
ond, acc ursed s troke—by t he l unar v oice o f t he si ster, t he S elenic v oice
(28). Yet Derrida has scarcely mentioned this constellation and that lunar
voice, w hich p romises t he m ore t ender s exual diἀ erence o f b rother a nd
sister, w hen hi s t ypescript b egins t o dra w t o a c lose—full o f r emorse, a s
he s ays. N ot, t o b e s ure, b efore i t h as p osed t he cr ucial q uestion o f t he
second coup or frappe. A nd n ot b efore i t a gain h ears H eidegger ci ting
Trakl’s “Autumnal Soul” on azure and game:
Bald entgleitet Fisch und Wild.

Blaue Seele, dunkles Wandern
Schied uns bald von Lieben, Andern.
Abend wechselt Sinn und Bild. (T 60)
Soon fish and game glide away.

Blue soul, darkling voyage
Soon severed us from loved ones, others.
Evening alters sense and image.
Who a re t he “others” f rom w hom t he n ew Geschlecht presumably

takes i ts dep arture? T o H eidegger, t hey r epresent t he di sessenced, t he
decomposing form of humankind, the Schlag or coinage of humankind as
it has prevailed hitherto—let us not call them degenerate, cautions Derrida.
Even so, it is alarming that Heidegger ignores the prior word Lieben, set in
apposition t o Andern, as t hough t he n ew Geschlecht despises a nd s corns
those it leaves behind. Now once again it is “our language,” unsere Sprache,
that guides t he p lacement, t his t ime exp licitly in t he dir ection o f Schlag
and Geschlecht. Derrida cites Heidegger as follows (US 49–50): “ The wan‑
derers, who follow the stranger [dem Fremdling] immediately see that they
are s eparated ‘from loved ones,’ w ho now have b ecome ‘others’ for t hem.
The o thers—that i s t he co inage o f t he de composed figure o f h umanity
[das ist der Schlag der verwesten Gestalt des Menschen].” And then, after a
paragraph break in Heidegger’s text, the introduction of Geschlecht occurs.
“Our l anguage n ames t he es sence o f h uman b eing, w hich i s s truck in a
certain coinage [aus einem Schlag geprägte] and is stamped in this coinage
[und in diesen Schlag verschlagene Menschenwesen], the ‘Geschlecht.’ ” This
is the first appearance of the word Geschlecht in Heidegger’s text—twelve
pages in to t hat t ext. D errida’s o wn r eading h as b een m agnetized b y t his
word, h owever, f rom t he v ery s tart o f hi s o wn Geschlecht series, w hich
here co nfronts i ts p roper n ame f or t he first t ime. S omething e lse, t hen,
about t he p redicament o f Geschlecht III becomes c lear. The t ypescript i s
almost at an end, and yet its proper subject has only now been broached,
and i t h as b een b roached o nly a fter D errida him self h as “le apt” m any
pages ahead in Heidegger’s text—a text he wants to read in a tempo adagio,
indeed lentissimo. His p redicament i s r eflected co mically in J ohn B arth’s
“Lost in the Funhouse,” in which the narrator reflects that the story is
limping a long, not really moving, s o that t he narrative will never, at t hat
rate, g et out of t he f unhouse—which i s s omething li ke w hat w e c hildren
used t o c all t he f unnyfarm—in o rder t o co mplete t he s tory. It h as t aken
Derrida t wenty‑eight p ages o f t ypescript t o g et t o Geschlecht, which h as
magnetized hi s p roject f rom t he b eginning; a nd in o rder t o g et t o hi s
topic he has had to skip an entire s eries of metonymic le aps or sidesteps
in Heidegger’s text. Among the topics he has skipped is Schmerz, the ach‑
ing pain that somehow binds Trakl’s blue to what others call the holy and
that mysteriously transforms what is said into song. Here Heidegger has
leapt n ot o nly f rom o ne p oem t o a nother b ut b ack t o a n e arlier t ext o f
his, one that meditates on the line, Schmerz versteinerte die Schwelle, “Pain
petrified the threshold,” or “Ache turned the threshold to stone,” from the
poem “Winter Evening” (US 26–27; s ee Appendix A). I n that earlier text,
“Language,” Heidegger repeats Trakl’s line over and over again, then says
something a bout ga thering, s omething t hat o ught t o b ecome im portant
for Derrida’s irritation concerning the gathering:
Yet what is pain? Pain tears. It is the rift. But it does not tear to
bits, bits that scatter. Pain tears apart, that is true, it separates,
but in s uch a wa y t hat i t sim ultaneously dra ws e verything t o
itself, gathering it in i tself. Its tearing is, as the separating that
gathers, a t t he s ame t ime t he dra wing t hat s ketches o ut a nd
articulates what is held apart in separation, as though it were a
plan or an outline. Pain is what articulates tearing, the tearing
that separates and ga thers. P ain is t he jointure of t he tear. It
is the threshold. (US 27)
Derrida might be vexed about the operations of “our language” here

once a gain: the Riss can b e both a r ending a nd a s ewing, a di vorcing
and a j oining, a n o utline ( Aufriss) a nd a p reliminary s ketch ( Vorriss),
and e ven t he t hreshold o f a co ming a nd a dep arting. N o do ubt D errida
would immediately think of Freud, who also thought and wrote in unserer
Sprache, for w hom p ain b oth r ends a nd ga thers: e ven in p araphrenics,
says Freud, “organic pain and discomfort” call all libido back home, back
to s ome s uἀering N arcissus. F reud w ill n ot b e a shamed t o ci te Wilhelm
Busch, w ho a lso w rote in unserer Sprache of t he p oet w hose t oothache
compels the poet’s soul to retreat into the narrow cavity of a molar. “Einzig
in der engen Höhle des Backenzahnes weilt die Seele,” writes F reud in hi s
“Introduction to Narcissism” (SA 3:49). Busch’s humor—his Scherz, which
is a lways o n t he c usp o f Schmerz—and F reud’s t wo‑feet‑on‑the‑ground
would p erhaps dra w H eidegger’s “ pain” b ack t o t he s tony t hreshold o f
earth and prevent the blue from becoming all too holy.
There i s n o hin t o f D errida’s t aking s uch a n a guey dir ection in
Geschlecht III. The t ypescript do wnplays t he theme o f p ain. Yet i t do es
so in o rder to cite—if only by way of a p romise—the Selenic voice of the
sister, die mondene Stimme that h aunts Trakl’s entire o euvre a s t hough it
were in deed b ut o ne p oem. F or t he l unar v oice o f t he si ster a nnounces
that couple or twofold of a s exual diἀ erence that is still more tender. For
the voice of the sister, evoked by the brother, is also a voice of the lovers,
der Liebenden, who may or may not—that is the question—have suἀered
the s econd blow of Geschlecht, the stroke of di scord and di ssension. It i s
to this second Schlag that Derrida’s text is under way. The second Schlag,
which H eidegger c alls a c urse, π λήγη, a nd w hich in t urn i s t he r oot o f
the English word plague, introduces discord (Zwietracht) into the relation
of t he s exes. W hen, a sks D errida, did t he c urse o f t his s econd s troke
advene? With E ve a nd A dam? With P latonism? With C hristianity? D er‑
rida’s answer I w ill have to quote, e ven if i t means breaking my promise.
When does the second stroke strike?
Before we hear Derrida’s reply to this crucial question, let us
return for an instant to t he de composing humankind t hat is “cast adr ift”
or “ boarded u p” a nd “ imprisoned,” verschlagen, in t he de composing
Geschlecht. Derrida n otes t hat t he m ost co mmon u sage o f t he ad jective
verschlagen is t o s uggest s omeone w ho i s cra fty, s ly, de ceitful—a k ind o f
Iago. Is Heidegger deaf to the adjective when he uses the verb to mean
“driven o ἀ co urse”? S urely n ot. For t he s econd s troke, t he s troke o f e vil,
has a lready struck t he di sessenced form of humanity, w hose craftiness i s
merely a sy mptom o f i ts er rancy a nd m alignancy. H eidegger’s a ppeal t o
a childhood t hat would b e “more gentle,” a t wofold of brother and sister
not yet marred by dissension, is meant to counteract t he corruption and
the violence. Here I entered another long note that asks some rather obvi‑
ous—yet horrendously difficult—questions, questions that I asked Derrida
to consider.
Does one not have to interrogate quite closely this “more silent”
or “ more t ranquil c hildhood,” die stillere Kindheit, to w hich
Heidegger a ppeals, a c hildhood t hat p romises s omething li ke
simplicity, Einfalt, that is, the unifold, the disappearance of the
twofold? Einfältig in everyday German means simple‑minded,
stupid, bête. Does H eidegger m ean b y t his t he b rother a nd
sister during their period of latency? Without the mark or the
remarking o f s exual diἀ erence? My s uspicion—and I a sk y ou
to refine it—is that Heidegger wishes to replace the “horizon‑
tal” c haracter o f t he Geschlecht of lo vers w ith t he “ vertical”
Geschlecht of succeeding g enerations, and t hese in t erms o f
Western history and destiny. (The pages on “generation” in Being
and Time (SZ 384–85) are so troubling!) Does not Heidegger
want to gather man, l’homme, as das Menschenwesen, precisely
by le aving t he si ster b ehind, n ot a llowing h er t o b ecome la
femme? See also US 66–67, which I ask you to read with all
your eyes. There Heidegger says:
“Thus apartness is neither simply the state of the one who
died e arly n or t he in determinate s pace of hi s s ojourn. Apart‑
ness, in the manner of its very conflagration [ihres Flammens],
is spirit, and spirit as the gathering. Such gathering brings the

essence o f t he m ortals b ack t o t heir m ore si lent c hildhood,
safeguards t hem a s t he t ype that h as n ot y et b een b rought
to f ull t erm [ den noch nicht ausgetragenen Schlag], t he t ype
that w ill coin t he Geschlecht to come. The gathering of apart‑
ness r escues t he un born f rom w hat h as s uἀered demi se [ das
Abgelebte] in a future resurrection of a dawning humankind [in
ein kommendes Auferstehen des Menschenschlages aus der Frühe].
The ga thering, a s t he s pirit o f t he g entle [ Geist des Sanften],
at the same time stills the spirit of evil. The turbulence of evil
rises t o ext reme m alevolence t here w here i t ir rupts f rom t he
discord of the sexes [Zwietracht der Geschlechter] and invades
the fraternal‑sororal [das Geschwisterliche].
“Yet at the same time the gathered fraternal‑sororal two‑
fold o f t he h uman Geschlecht lies co ncealed w ithin t he m ore
silent unif old o f c hildhood. I n a partness t he s pirit o f e vil i s
neither denied and annihilated nor released and affirmed. Evil
is transformed. In order to survive such a “transformation” the
soul m ust t urn i tself t oward w hat i s g reat in i ts es sence. The
grandeur of such greatness is defined by the spirit of apartness.
Apartness i s t he gathering by w hich the es sence of h umanity
is t aken un der p rotection, b ack t o i ts m ore si lent c hildhood
[in seine stillere Kindheit . . . zurückgeborgen], such childhood
being brought back to the dawn of another inception. As gath‑
ering, apartness possesses the essence of the place [des Ortes].”
These t wo p aragraphs, in m y v iew, co ntain t he m ost
problematic a spects o f t he Trakl es say. On e h as t o r ejoin t he
discussion y ou h ave b egun h ere o n p ages 9–10 co ncerning
the di scourse o f psy choanalysis, w hich H eidegger w ould li ke
to ignore.
What I wa s t hinking o f in t his lo ng n ote i s n o do ubt H eidegger’s

appeal to s ome s ort of l atency p eriod in w hich s exuality is ostensibly not
yet marked. The use of stillere and stillen is a lso remarkable, in asmuch a s
stillen means to nurse. What does it mean to “nurse” evil, and why is evil at
its extreme associated with the invasion of discord into the fraternal‑soro‑
ral r ealm? Would t his b e y et a nother s troke, a third stroke, by w hich a
regrettable yet predictable discord between the heterogamous sexes invades
with unspeakable malignancy the brother‑sister relation? Is Heidegger here
pointing without pointing t o t he r elationship b etween G eorg a nd G retl
Trakl? D oes s uch a p ointing without p ointing r eveal s omething li ke a n

underlying yet never questioned incest motif in Heidegger’s thinking—pre‑
cisely in the thinking that is famous for never having entertained questions
of sexuality? Would not a Derridian double‑reading be essential here, one
that w ould b e a s g enerous a s p ossible t o a t ext t hat d ares t o t hink a bout
a n ew co inage o f h umankind, a lin eage t hat w ould o vercome t he co r‑
ruption, v iolence, a nd m alignancy o f i ts e arlier f orms, y et a lso a r eading
that w ould w onder w hether t he m ost a rchaic o f a ll t houghts a nd desir es
in t his h uman‑all‑too‑human s pecies a re h ere inflicting t hemselves u pon
the h apless a nd h elpless H eidegger? S uch a do uble‑reading w ould b e t he
predicament as such—and only Derrida would be capable of carrying out
such a reading. It would carry him beyond the framework of “philosophical
nationality a nd n ationalism,” b ack t o t hat o f t he t wo g randfathers, F reud
and H eidegger, b ut a lways a nd e verywhere in o rder t o ga in in sight in to,
or develop a b etter ear for, the magnetic poetry of Georg Trakl. What sort
of text could satisfy all these demands?
The typescript now (29) r eturns to t he p assage in w hich Heidegger
introduces the word and the thing called Geschlecht. Heidegger writes (US
50): “This word means the human race [ Menschengeschlecht], in t he sense
of h umankind [ Menschheit], a nd a lso t he Geschlechter, in t he s ense o f
tribes, clans, and families, all of this being coined in its turn [wiederum]
by the twofold of the sexes [Zwiefalt der Geschlechter].” It is the wiederum
that now draws Derrida’s attention. All the other senses of Geschlecht are
in turn, or once again, or for their part, stamped b y t he t wofold o f t he
Geschlechter. By rights, of course, one should allow this last word to stand
in all its ambiguity, and not to translate it as “sexes”; yet it is Heidegger’s
introduction of the “twofold” that makes such a t ranslation all but inevi‑
table. Once again, then, willy‑nilly, the text is brought back to the question
of sexual diἀerence, the question that Heidegger ostensibly never raises.
Here o nce a gain D errida n otes t hat H eidegger’s t wofold i s i tself
doubled o r r edoubled. I f t he r esult o f t he first b low i s t he g entle c hild‑
hood of t he t wofold of t he s exes, s o i s it a lso t he des tination of t he n ew
Geschlecht that “wanders ahead.” If its wandering ahead takes it back to the
promised essence of humankind, what will prevent the second, accursed,
blow from striking again? Is there not only a third blow, but an nth blow,
in t he c ycle o f t he di sessenced es sence? H eidegger s uggests t hat t here
are b ut t wo b lows o r s trokes de livered t o t he t wofold, t he first m arking
them a s b rother a nd si ster, o r a t le ast a s m ale a nd f emale, t he s econd
introducing di ssension in to t he t wofold. The first s troke p roduces t he
first Geschlecht, which i tself i s do uble, y et s till a t p eace w ith i tself, s till
true to its essence. However, a s econd Schlag advenes—when? how? why?

and a bove a ll w hence? —which s eems t o b e e vil, in deed, t o em body e vil
or m alignancy a s s uch. Heidegger do es n ot y et s peak o f e vil, t o b e s ure,
even if my marginal note to Derrida leaps ahead in order to invoke it.
At t his p oint H eidegger s peaks m erely o f t he “ curse” t hat i s s omehow
already im plied in t he w ord Schlag. Not sim ply the word, h owever, b ut
unser Wort “Schlag.” Yet if t he curse is impacted in t he very word Schlag,
the root of Geschlecht, is not the very first stroke a “curse” and a “plague”?
Even if Heidegger insists that it is not, is not the “curse,” which falls from
nowhere at n o identifiable t ime f or n o acco untable r eason, a supplement
to Schlag as such, both inside and outside the system of Geschlecht? Does
the poet ever identify himself as dwelling outside of or beyond the curse?
Does the poet ever dream Heidegger’s dream?
Derrida observes that Heidegger does not quote the line from “Dream
and D elusion,” in t he co llection Sebastian Dreaming, w hich in vokes t he
accursed race , t ribe, fa mily, o r s ex, “O des verfluchten Geschlechts.” Der‑
rida notes that even though the French translation avoids the words curse,
accursed, perhaps in o rder t o h old a t a di stance a ny “ religious” co nno‑
tation, Heidegger himself, however resistant he may be to any Chris‑
tian r eading o f t he p oems, do es n ot b y a ny m eans a void t he C hristian
lexicon. To try to avoid it would simply distort both Trakl’s poems and
Heidegger’s placement of them. Fluch is malediction, and πλήγη is the
blow or stroke—by hand, lightning, calamity, or word of mouth—of such
malediction. D errida co ntinues t he q uotation (US 50): “ Curse in G reek
is π λήγη, o ur w ord ‘Schlag.’ The c urse o f t he de composing s pecies [ des
verwesenden Geschlechts] consists in the fact that this old species has been
severed [auseinandergeschlagen] into the discord of the sexes [Geschlecht
er].” The dual now enters into a duel, the twofold disessences and engages
in battle, the battle of the sexes, the quarrel between generations, the war
of the worlds. The duplex enters into duplicity. This is the second blow or
stroke, the bad one, that re‑marks the species and its sexes. They become
isolated in “ unbridled in dividuation” a nd “ blind s avagery.” The F rench
translation of Heidegger’s text renders such savagery, Wildheit des Wildes,
in a wa y t hat r ecalls Trakl’s ein blaues Wild, calling i t a r eversion t o la
sauvagerie . . . du gibier. This is of course a v ery o dd decision, inasmuch
as “blue game” is a figure of the poet himself and of those closest to him.
It is not a figure of the “others,” viewed as the accursed Geschlecht, from
which the poet would proclaim his distance.
Heidegger’s t ext f olds back constantly on i ts do ubles and r edou‑
blings. The f orce a nd t he enig ma o f hi s en tire t ext, s ays D errida, der ive
from t his s trange do ubling o f s exes, o f b lows t hat dr ive t hem a part, o f
destinies t hat result in de composition but a lso t he h ope of a n ew b egin‑
ning—which i s n ot n ew at a ll but e arlier t han t he d awn. A nd if t he s ec‑
ond Schlag cannot b e n eatly di stinguished f rom t he first, w ill n ot t he
day unfold a s it a lways do es? At t his p oint in hi s own text (30), D errida
refers b ack t o t he v ery b eginning o f hi s p roject, w hich f ocused o n t he
1928 le cture co urse a t M arburg a nd w hich de veloped t he p remises o f
what H eidegger i s h ere t hinking in t he p hrase, Nicht das Zwiefache als
solches, sondern die Zwietracht ist der Fluch, “Not t he t wofold a s s uch,
but di scord i s t he c urse.” S exual diἀ erence a s s uch i s n ot acc ursed, b ut
only that which determines it to be oppositional, one sex in dispute with
the other, and e ven, most wretchedly, brother and sister at war. Whence,
then, t he o pposition a nd t he di scord? W hen do es t he c urse s trike? w ith
Adam and Eve? with Platonism? with Christianity?
“Réponse: plus tard.” “Response: later.”
The first s ense o f t he “ response” i s t hat t he c urse fa lls w ell a fter
Adam a nd E ve, a fter P latonism, a nd a fter C hristianity—later t han a ll
these. The second s ense of the “response” i s that Derrida will postpone
the q uestion un til l ater in t he s eminar—and t hat i s do ubtless t he c ase,
inasmuch a s h e p ledges t o w ork hi s wa y t hrough H eidegger’s Trakl t ext
quite painstakingly, and there is much work remaining to be done.
At t his p oint I en tered a n ote in t he t ypescript b egging him n ot t o
be s uch a t ease. When, l ater? C an one b e m ore precise a bout t he o rder
of t he t wo b lows, a bout das Zwiefache and die Zwietracht? A nd w hy t he
fatal resemblance that the prefix Zwie- lends to both? As far as the second
blow is concerned, how can one sidestep the uncanny yet compelling logic
of t he s upplement? W ill n ot a ny r esponse t o t he when? question a lways
have t o co me later, inasmuch a s a fa tal a nachrony i s a t w ork in t he t wo
strokes? J ust a s t here i s g ood a nd b ad w riting, w ith t he co ndemnation
of w riting s uggesting b oth t hat b ad o r m erely der ivative w riting a lways
comes first a nd t hat g ood w riting, primal writing, comes b ut l ately, a fter
the fact, in the philosopher’s old age perhaps, so too the supplement of the
second s troke, t he acc ursed s upplement, i s im possible t o lo cate in t ime,
in sequence, in epoch, and in history—including the history of being.
Surely t his i s o ne o f t he s ecrets o f D errida’s fa scination w ith t he
Trakl t ext: t he s econd b low w ill a lways h ave co me first, e ven a s i t w ith‑
draws in to co ncealment. I t i s exp licable o nly a s un decidably w ithin a nd
without t he destiny of our double Geschlecht. Surely it w ill prove impos‑
sible—in s pite o f H eidegger’s in sistence—to k eep t hese b lows a part, t o
separate t hem o ut, a nd e qually impossible t o deny t hat s exual diἀ erence
and o ntological diἀ erence a re s tructurally iden tical, o r a t le ast p erfectly

parallel. If the diἀerence between being and beings, which is initially
granted in W estern hi story, i s s oon c ursed b y o blivion o f b eing, s o t oo
is s exual diἀ erence ini tially g ranted, o nly to b e cursed at s ome point b y
discord a nd di ssension. N or w ill i t b e p ossible t o a ssert in ei ther c ase
that t he hi stories of P latonism and C hristianity p lay only a n egative role
in s exual a nd o ntological diἀ erence. The b lows o r s trokes o f Geschlecht,
like t he g ranting o f c learing a nd co ncealing in Ereignis, will p rove t o b e
both c urse and resource, dej ection and h ope. E ach blow w ill strike w hat
comes before and will coin what follows.
Nevertheless, p ersisting w ith H eidegger’s a ttempt t o di stinguish
between the t wo, I a sked in t he m argins o f D errida’s t ypescript whether
one mig ht b e j ustified in s aying t hat t he s econd s troke, t he b low o f di s‑
sension and e vil, s ows in H eidegger t he s eeds of t he dream or phantasm
of a quieter, more tranquil childhood, a childhood that surely never took
place. The dream of a m ore sane and s erene childhood in w hich siblings
are n ot y et q uarreling a nd in co nflict—is t his n ot t he p hantasm o f a n
intrauterine in teriority, o f a s elf‑presence t hat ga thers i tself t ogether in
order to avoid dispersion? Hearkening in t he womb to the s oufflé that is
the voice of the friend?
In the end, and at the end of the typescript, Derrida’s own questions
mount. If good and bad writing repeat one another indissociably over and
over again, what sense are we to make of Heidegger’s insistence that there
is a m ore tranquil childhood to which a n ew Geschlecht, a Geschlecht that
is one, may revert, a childhood to which, indeed, it may be “resurrected”?
We will immediately want to k now—although Derrida him self does not
state t he m atter s o b aldly—whether w e c an un derstand t hat r eversion
as a nything o ther t han a r egression t o t he p eriod o f l atency. I f t he s ec‑
ond Schlag drives t he co ncordant t wofold in to un chained in dividuation
and i solation, a s H eidegger’s t ext s uggests, D errida a sks h ow w e a re t o
understand that individuation as a curse. For individuation is otherwise
always p raised a nd s ought a fter in H eidegger’s t exts, es pecially in Being
and Time, where i t i s a m ark o f t he r esolute D asein t hat h as a ttained
insight into its own mortality. Derrida cannot avoid referring to the sense
of Vereinzelung, the F rench démariage, as a n i solating, in eug enics a nd
in agriculture, of unwanted plants and p opulations (31), a nd I co uld not
refrain from chiding him a b it for this distraction from the central ques‑
tions of the Trakl article. Here I referred once again to the 1929–30 course,
which calls Vereinzelung, “individuation,” and even Einsamkeit, “solitude”
or “loneliness,” a fundamental concept of metaphysics. Such individuation
would b e a n eἀ ect o f t he “ profound b oredom” t hat m ay b e in terpreted

as a fundamental attunement of Dasein, precisely in the way that anxiety
served a s t he f undamental m ood o f Being and Time. Vereinzelung might
then be the measure of a certain expanse in Heidegger’s career of thought,
indeed, f rom 1928 t o 1953, in which i t first o f a ll desig nates t he v ery
authenticity o f a D asein t hat accep ts i ts b eing‑toward‑the‑end, b ut t hen
is decried as an individuation that has run amok and become destructive.
Does individuation begin as a sign of appropriateness and authenticity but
end as a mark of disessencing?
At all events, Derrida’s text seemed to me to get back on track—or
on the path of Heidegger’s thinking—when it refers to the transition from
the first t o t he s econd s troke, f rom t he initial g entle f old of g enders a nd
sexes t o a t wofold t hat i s dr iven oἀ co urse and s hipwrecked, verschlagen
and zerschlagen. For t he discord of t he s exes b ecomes utterly destructive
of the species, and the quarrel appears to spread from abrasive couples to
brother and sister, and from thence to entire families, tribes, and nations.
It then becomes impossible for our Geschlecht to find its way back in den
rechten Schlag, which w ould b e i ts wa y b ack h ome, b ack t o t he m ore
tranquil c hildhood. Yet it i s this h ope of a return w ith w hich Heidegger
ends hi s p aragraph. The wa y b ack c an o ccur o nly w ith t hat Geschlecht
“whose t wofold [ Zwiefaches] wa nders a head, o n i ts wa y o ut o f di scord
into the gentleness of a o nefold twofold [in die Sanftmut einer einfältigen
Zwiefalt]; t hat m eans i t i s s omething ‘strange,’ a nd i t t hereby f ollows t he
stranger [dem Fremdling]” (US 50).
And strange it is, this migration out ahead, as “our word” fram sug‑
gests, moving toward rather than away from; it moves toward a diἀ erence
without dissension, a t wofold without a f old, or at least without duplicity.
Derrida recalls here Heidegger’s reversion to his own starting point, ein
Fremdes, in “Springtime of the Soul,” and indicates, at the end of the first
part of Heidegger’s text, the identification of “the stranger” as himself der
Abgeschiedene, the o ne w ho i s apart—or dep arted—the o ne w ho i s de ad
without b eing de ad, t he o ne w ho h as t aken hi s dep arture f rom t he o th‑
ers a nd s o i s a n o ther t o t he o thers. That o ne, jener, n ames t he p lace o f
Trakl’s p oem. The p lace i s c alled a partness, Abgeschiedenheit. Heidegger
now p ledges t o t ake a s econd s tep ( einen zweiten Schritt) t oward t hat
place t hat s o r esembles de ath, y et i s n ot de ath. A nd w ith a r eference t o
that s econd s tep, t aken in t he s econd p art o f “ Language in t he P oem,”
Derrida’s typescript ends.
The final page of Geschlecht III, page 32 spilling over onto page 33
with t he sin gle w ord remarquer, consists o f fragments, v ery b rief p ara‑
graphs, all of them pointing toward the utter strangeness of that simplic‑
ity of t he s exes t hat ostensibly prevails prior to t he c urse. It is as t hough
Derrida wa nts u s t o r emember t he p romise, m ade in Geschlecht I, of a
pre‑dual, p re‑differential s exuality, p ositive in i ts in tention a nd mig hty
in i ts es sence. Yet o ne m ust w onder w hether t he p romise c an p ossibly
hold. H eidegger a ppears t o le ave u s w ith t he m ore g entle c hildhood o f
a unifold twofold—strange, foreign, unheard‑of, yet also idyllic, bucolic,
oneiric, t halassic, p erhaps amniotic. Perhaps a lso, a s we s hall s ee, utterly
phantasmatic—haunted by a phantom of the other.
6
Geschlecht III
ἀ e Phantom of the Other
T he Geschlecht III typescript, b y m oving q uickly a head a nd s kipping

over m any p ages o f H eidegger’s “ Language in t he P oem,” p ages t hat
Derrida w ould n o do ubt h ave wa nted t o r ead v ery c arefully, r eaches t he
end o f t he first p art o f H eidegger’s t ripartite es say. ἀ e figures, im ages,
and strategies of Heidegger’s reading that I very much wanted Derrida to
comment on and to read doubly, as it were, arise only in t he second part
of Heidegger’s essay. After learning that the 1984–85 co urse, “Le fantôme
de l ’autre,” wa s m ost li kely t he co urse t hat D errida h ad b een t ranscrib‑
ing in t he t ypescript, I b etook m yself in A pril 2012 t o C aen t o exa mine
Derrida’s notes.1
A handwritten title appears on the first page of the typewritten lec‑
ture notes: “Le nationalisme et les r evenants,” nationalism and its ghosts.
Much l ater in t he t ypescript a ppears a nother h andwritten t itle: “ LE
FANTÔME D E L’AUTRE,” t he p hantom o f t he o ther. “ Other,” a s a lways
in D errida, i s n ot autrui, not t he Sa rtrean “other p eople,” b ut t he m ore
neutral “otherness,” which for Derrida certainly includes “the others” but
also refers to the Freudian unconscious, the death that occupies Heidegger
and Blanchot, the animals that we subjugate but do n ot comprehend, and
virtually all that strikes us as uncanny—le tout autre, the altogether other.
ἀ e very titles (or subtitles) of the seminar, with their revenants and their
fantôme, tell us much about t he inspiration for D errida’s 1987 De l’esprit.
We a lso find among t he le cture notes a n ew t ypescript of t he s ame
material, but neither the notes nor the new typescript contains the material
1. In t he D errida A rchive a t IMEC, in C aen, I was a ble t o lo cate t he n otes f rom “ Nationalité
et n ationalisme p hilosophiques: le fa ntôme de l ’autre,” D errida’s 1984–85 s eminar, in B oite 52,
code “DRR 175 (1984/85; 1987/88).”
171
of the typescript Derrida distributed to the participants of the first Loyola

conference in O ctober 1985. ἀ e o nly d ate t hat a ppears—and i t a ppears
at random—in t he initial t ypescript of t he le cture notes is “21 n ovembre
1984.” At a ny rate, i t s eems c lear t hat D errida p resented t he m aterial o n
Heidegger’s second Trakl essay, “Die Sprache im Gedicht: eine Erörterung
von G eorg Trakls G edicht,” in t he fa ll a nd w inter o f 1984 a nd s pring o f
1985. ἀ e e arly part of t he seminar contains the m aterial that g oes in to
Geschlecht II, for example, the material on Fichte’s “Reden an die Deutsche
Nation.” ἀ ere is also material here on the postwar German‑Jewish‑Amer‑
ican n exus in p hilosophy, in cluding m aterial t hat w ould in terest a nyone
working o n t he t hinking o f H annah A rendt; w e find h ere a lso di scus‑
sions o f A dorno a nd de T ocqueville, a lthough w ith a g reater a mount o f
material on Arendt, including the Günter Gaus interview, “Es bleibt die
Muttersprache” (“What Remains Is the Mother Tongue”).2
ἀ e material that most interested me, however, is found in the final
folder, containing S éances six t o thirteen of “Le fantôme de l ’autre.” Here
is w here t he b ulk o f t he m aterial (s ome o f i t p ublished in Geschlecht II)
designed for the proposed Geschlecht III appears. Séance eight is devoted
to the themes of Ort and Erörterung, “place” and “placement,” which is the
first topic taken up in the Loyola typescript; farther into the lecture notes,
on page 21, there is a description of curse as Schlag, the “blow” or “stroke”
that D errida r enders a s coup or frappe. Séance nin e i s l argely h andwrit‑
ten, “improvised,” while the remainder is already in t ypescript, although,
from a ll appearances, not revised. S éances nine to t hirteen would, in m y
judgment, b e t he five s essions t hat, a s D errida n otes a t t he en d o f t he
Geschlecht III typescript, “restent à transcrire.”
ἀ e first page of the ninth session is typewritten, pages 2 t hrough 5
are handwritten, and the rest typewritten. ἀ e handwritten pages take up
Derrida’s response to Heidegger’s insistence t hat Trakl has nothing to do
with Christianity, a t heme that will also be treated later on in t he course.
2. ἀi s m aterial intrigued m e, a nd I t ook t ime t o exa mine i t, m aking a n ote t o inf orm A rendt
scholar P eg B irmingham a bout i t. I r ecall f rom m y o wn co nversations w ith A rendt, m ost o f
them s urrounding t he t ranslation a nd p ublication o f H eidegger’s w orks, h er p rofound lo ve o f
German li terature a nd l anguage. It wa s c lear t o m e t hat f or h er, a s f or B enjamin, Adorno, a nd
many others, the ἀir d Reich, in addition to all its other crimes, had corrupted in an unforgivable
way a n en tire c ulture, t radition, a nd l anguage. A nyone who i s in sensitive to l anguage w ill find
this odd: Should the focus on the murder of millions be obscured or sidetracked by thoughts
of culture? Yet for Arendt and many others—Derrida among them—the murder of the language
and the literature was part of the crime, perhaps at the core of it.
Geschlecht III: ἀ e Phantom of the Other 173
ἀ e first matter taken up in t he ninth session is the word geistlich, “spiri‑

tual” or “spiriting,” as in “ the spiriting year,” das geistliche Jahr. Derrida is
here already deep into the second part of Heidegger’s essay, which by way
of a “second step” tries to say more about the “place” or “situation” called
“apartness,” Abgeschiedenheit. So far in t his second section Heidegger has
taken up or reverted back to the following themes: the path of the stranger
toward death, or a k ind of death; the “madness” of the departed one; the
boy Elis, who as one who dies y oung embodies the gentle twofold of the
sexes; t he p aths o f t he s tranger t hrough “the s piriting y ear,” a nd t ime a s
the a rrival o f a n ew d awn in w hat “h as b een.” H eidegger n ow ci tes t wo
lines f rom t he p oem “In Hellbrunn,” w hich e vokes t he b eautiful p ark on
the o utskirts o f Sa lzburg f requented b y Trakl, a nd D errida r eprints a nd
comments on these lines:
So geistlich ergrünen
Die Eichen über die vergessenen Pfaden der Toten.
So hauntingly verdant are

ἀ e oaks above the forgotten paths of the dead.
Here t he w ord hauntingly t ries t o t ranslate geistlich, earlier r en‑

dered as “spiriting.” It is precisely t he impossible translation of t his word
that in trigues D errida, t hat a long w ith H eidegger’s in sistence t hat Trakl
“avoids” t he more exp ected word geistig. Heidegger asserts t hat t he latter
word remains trapped in t he Platonic gap between the realms of thought
and sensation, the gap or χωρισµός between the νοητόν and the αἰσθητόν,
so t hat T rakl’s a voiding t he w ord in dicates hi s “ place” b eyond P latonic
metaphysics. F or t his P latonizing di stinction b elongs t o t he de compos‑
ing Geschlecht; h ence, Trakl s peaks o r sin gs a lways o f t he geistliche, and
not t he geistige. D errida r efers t o “Grodek,” a p oem t hat Heidegger ci tes
only many p ages l ater in hi s “placement”; t here, Trakl invokes Die heisse
Flamme des Geistes, a lin e and a t heme, we recall, crucial to the book Of
Spirit (see es pecially D E 158–59). D errida m arks t he difference b etween
this fiery spirit and the pneumatic tradition of metaphysics: Geist, the Old
High G erman gheis, means t hat w hich i s c aught u p, t ransported, b eside
itself, enflamed. ἀi s is for Derrida an exceptional example of the idiom,
which i s w hat t he en tire s eminar i s a bout, n amely, t he un translatabil‑
ity o f idio m a nd t he s pecificity o f p hilosophical n ationality a nd n ation‑
alism. D errida r efers a lso t o hi s t reatment o f H egel in Glas, no do ubt
thinking es pecially o f H egel’s t reatment o f t he r eligion o f t he s un a nd
his brûle‑tout of n ature (Gl 100, 265–70, a nd e lsewhere). F or Heidegger,

the flame o f s pirit co ntains w ithin i tself b oth g ood a nd e vil, t hat i s, t he
possibility of both Sanftmut and das Zerstörerische, both “gentleness” and
“the destructive.”
Yet D errida expresses hi s a stonishment t hat Heidegger avoids a lto‑
gether t he r elation b etween Geist a nd g host, s pirit a nd le revenant, le
fantôme. Such avoidance is clearly w hat lends t he entire s eminar its t itle,
le fantôme de l’autre. ἀ e avoidance h as e verything t o do w ith t he p rob‑
lematic of fremd/fram, that is, with the reduction of the “foreign,” “alien,”
and “ strange” t o a p lace t hat lies j ust a head o f u s o n “ our” p ath, t he
“toward which” of our heading home. ἀ ese handwritten pages of Der‑
rida’s notes—almost impossible to decipher—stress Heidegger’s insistence
that Trakl’s “place” is entirely outside of both the Platonic and the Chris‑
tian s pheres. T rakl w ould b e s o o utside o f t hese s pheres t hat h e co uld
not e ven b e s aid t o b e a nti‑Christian o r a nti‑Platonic. Yet t his do ubling
of the reference to the tradition, that is, presumably, Heidegger’s refer‑
ence t o a P latonizing C hristianity a nd a C hristian P latonism along with
the deni al t hat ei ther o f t hese h as a nything t o do w ith Trakl’s u se o f t he
word geistlich, represents for Derrida an exceptional instance of the phan‑
tasmatic: w hen t he a lien is s aid to b e t hat w hich lies a head of us on our
path, when the fremd is said to be that fram which we are heading toward,
as i t w ere, t hen s omething i s h aunting H eidegger’s t ext, s omething t hat
Heidegger him self s eems des perate t o a void. A nd a lthough i t m ay s eem
perfectly obvious to my readers by this time, it may be worth noting that
Derrida’s c hoice o f t he t itle f or hi s addr ess t o t he C ollège in ternationale
de philosophie in March 1987, later published a s De l’esprit, seems to
derive p recisely f rom t his m oment o f t he 1984–85 s eminar: H eidegger
is h aunted b y cer tain p hantoms, p hantoms o f t he “other,” g hosts t hat h e
himself h as ra ised a nd c an n o lo nger l ay t o r est, b ut w hich h e s eeks t o
avoid. Avoidance a nd t he p hantom, t he idio matic a nd t he p hantasmatic,
now occupy the center of Derrida’s reflections on Heidegger.
From this point on, with pages 6 and following of the seminar notes,
the text is typed and the decipherment of Derrida’s meaning considerably
easier. Pages 11–12 of the ninth séance, on the stillere Kindheit, the “more
reposeful childhood,” and on das Knabenhafte and Mädchenhafte, that is,
Heidegger’s account (at US 55) of t he essence of boyhood and girlhood,
constitute important additions to what we find in t he Geschlecht III type‑
script. To repeat, that typescript of thirty‑three pages seems to get only as
far as the eighth séance of the seminar, although this is hard to judge: the
organization o f t he n otes p resented in s eminar i s m uch m ore r epetitive
than t he t ypescript, as we mig ht well exp ect. Yet t he remarks in s essions

nine a nd t en o n t he b rother a nd si ster a re a ltogether mi ssing f rom t he
transcription, s o t hat t hese a re t he s essions t hat t he p resent c hapter w ill
follow q uite c losely. Here w e m ay b e p ermitted t o ci te t he n otes, first in
French and then in translation.3
On p age 11 o f t he n otes f or s éance nin e, D errida t akes u p t he fig‑
ure of Elis, the boy who, having died young, is one of the phantoms that
appears and reappears (also under the names Sebastian and Helian) most
persistently in Trakl’s poetry:
Elis n ommerait do nc un lieu p lus a ncien et p lus p aisible q ue

le v ieux G eschlecht (v ieille es pèce o u v ieux s exe) q ui a r eçu
le mauvais coup, le deuxième coup de la malédiction qui y
installe le deux de l a dissension, la différence sexuelle comme
dissension. Et il s’agit bien de différence sexuelle, du Geschlecht
aussi comme sexe et n on seulement comme espèce, comme le
traduit la traduction française, qui manque ici une détermina‑
tion es sentielle d u p assage. E lis va v ers un e s exualité, si v ous
voulez, plus ancienne que celle du v ieux sexe déchiré par la
différence sexuelle de type agonistique et oppositionnel.
“Elis” would thus name a site more ancient and more peace‑
ful t han t hat o f t he o ld Geschlecht (the o ld s pecies o r t he o ld
sex), t he l atter h aving un dergone t he b ad s troke, t he s econd,
accursed s troke, w hich in staurates t he t wofold o f di ssension,
sexual difference as dissension. What is involved here is indeed
sexual difference, Geschlecht also a s s ex a nd n ot m erely s pe‑
cies a s t he F rench t ranslation s ays, mi ssing h ere a n es sential
determination of the passage. Elis is heading toward a sexuality
that i s o lder, if y ou w ill, t han t hat o f t he o ld s ex t hat i s t orn
apart b y a s exual difference t hat i s a gonistic a nd c aught u p
in opposition.
Derrida co ntinues, turning now t o t he t heme of “ youth,” t hat is, o f boy‑

hood and girlhood:
3. I have edited the French text only slightly, only where obvious typos occurred. ἀ ese seminar
notes will, one hopes, s ome day b e more carefully e dited and published. For t he moment, I a m
selecting only those passages that seem to me crucial to the theme of the brother, sister, and lov‑
ers in Trakl’s poetry. For these too are phantoms that Heidegger raises and yet somehow avoids.
Et de fa it, que dit H. a ussitôt après? eh bien que dans la figure

du jeune Elis, das Knabenhafte, l’être de ga rçon, ne réside pas
dans une opposition (in einem Gegensatz) avec l’être de la fille
(zum Mädchenhaften). Das Knabenhafte ist die Erscheinung der
stilleren Kindheit, ce qui est étrangement traduit en français par
le ga rçon E lis es t l’apparition de l’enfance profonde, a lors q ue
le texte dit: l’être-garçon (das Knabenhafte, naturellement sous
entendu, celui d’Elis) est le phénomène ou l’apparaître (Erschein
ung) de l’enfance plus paisible (silencieuse, apaisée, etc.). Cette
enfance en l aquelle le ga rçon et l a fille ne s’opposent pas, e lle
abrite et r éserve en e lle “die sanfte Zwiefalt der G eschlechter,”
le tendre dédoublement, “la tendre ou douce dualité des sexes,”
donc un e différence s exuelle, un deux q ui n e s’est p as en core
déterminé et déchaîné dans l’opposition, aussi bien l’adolescent
que l’adolescente, aussi bien le Jüngling que, citation, “la figure
d’or de l’adolescente,” die goldene Gestalt der Jünglingin.
And what does Heidegger say soon after this? Well, that in the
figure of the young Elis das Knabenhafte, the being of the boy,
does not reside in an opposition (in einem Gegensatz) to the
being of the girl (zum Mädchenhaften). Das Knabenhafte ist die
Erscheinung der stilleren Kindheit, which is oddly translated into
the F rench a s: t he b eing o f t he b oy E lis i s t he a pparition o f
profound childhood, whereas what the text says is that the being
of t he b oy ( das Knabenhafte, naturally implying t he b oyhood
of E lis) i s t he p henomenon o r t he a ppearance ( Erscheinung)
of t he m ore p eaceful c hildhood (m ore si lent, m ore appeased,
etc.). Such childhood, in which boy and girl do not oppose one
another, conceals and holds in reserve within itself die sanfte
Zwiefalt der Geschlechter, the tender doubling, “the tender or
gentle twofold of the sexes,” thus a sexual difference, a two that
is n ot y et det ermined b y o r un leashed in to o pposition. ἀi s
includes the male adolescent as well as the female adolescent,
the Jüngling as w ell a s, a nd I q uote, “the g olden figure o f t he
adolescent girl,” die goldene Gestalt der Jünglingin.
Derrida does not pause to comment on the extremely rare idiom, die
Jünglingin, the “female youth” w ho exi sts, a s far a s I k now, only in A chim
von Arnim’s 1809 “Eurial und Lukrezia,” in Rilke’s 1910 Malte Laurids Brigge,
and in Trakl’s poetry. She is clearly related to the Fremdling and the Jüngling
in Trakl, and to the otherwise unknown Mönchin, “female monk.” ἀ e suf‑
fix ‑ling is iden tical w ith t he o ne t hat a ppears in t he En glish “ foundling”

or “yearling,” a dimin utive form itself suggesting either smallness of size o r
gentleness a nd t enderness o f a spect. W hereas t he G erman l anguage do es
not normally refer to a young girl as Jünglingin, the masculine Jüngling com‑
monly refers to a male at puberty or in adolescence. It is odd that Heidegger
himself does not comment on the strangeness, in “our language,” of Trakl’s
word. ἀ e co inage i tself s uggests a b lurring o f t he lin es b etween b oy a nd
girl, p erhaps in t hat “ more r eposeful” c hildhood t hat en chants H eidegger
and t hat h e s eems t o a ffirm w ithout m uch r eflection. N or do es D errida
comment directly on t he way in w hich—in Heidegger’s t ext, a lthough n ot
in Trakl’s p oems—das Knabenhafte seems t o a bsorb w ithin i tself, a t le ast
during t hat more s erene childhood, das Mädchenhafte. Every g irl a tender
tomboy, every boy the promise of a new, nonoppositional Geschlecht. At the
very end of his seminar Derrida will take up the theme of the “fraternaliza‑
tion” of all things female, and of the sister above all.
Derrida continues (session nine, page 12), summarizing Heidegger’s
text (US 55), noting that Elis will not decompose after his death; he will
instead, him self a p hantom o f t he o ther, le ad t he f riend a nd t he b rother
back t oward t he e arly, t he m atutinal. F or H eidegger, E lis i s t he p romise
of a m ore a rchaic a nd m ore s erene c hildhood. ἀi s m ore s erene c hild‑
hood now appears indeed to b e intrauterine: Heidegger again cites “our”
language, t he O ld H igh G erman giberan, from w hich t he m odern w ord
geboren, “born,” der ives. ἀ e s tranger p ertains t o t he Geschlecht that is
noch nicht zum Tragen gekommen, that h as n ot y et b een “ borne o ut” o r
brought t o f ull t erm. D errida co mments o n tragen, t he F rench porter,
especially in t he p hrase porter un enfant jusqu’à son terme. As w e h ave
already seen in chapter 4, Austrag is a cr ucial term for Heidegger in other
texts, for example, his essay “Logos: Heraclitus B 50,” in which the word
carries t he burden, precisely, of difference.4 Ein ausgetragenes Kind i s one
that h as b een c arried f or t he f ull nin e m onths o f a p regnancy. F or H ei‑
4. See chapter 5 of Derrida and Our Animal Others, in which Austrag is seen as carrying the
entire b urden o f t he δι αφερόµενον, o f difference a nd differencing, in H eidegger’s r esponse t o
Heraclitus. I t i s im portant t o n ote t hat f rom t he mid‑1980s until t he en d D errida t hinks t he
Austrag and its tragen principally in t wo registers, neither of which has to do p reeminently with
the epoch of metaphysics: first, in terms of the voice of the friend that every Dasein carries with
itself, and second, in t erms of the friend who dies a nd whose death, pace Freud, means the end
of the world. Each time, uniquely, the end of the world. Each time, uniquely, responding as Celan
responds to catastrophe: Die Welt ist fort, ich muss dich tragen. See Jean Birnbaum, who cites
Derrida’s 2003 Béliers in this respect, in J acques Derrida, Apprendre à vivre enfin (Paris: Galilée,
2005), 16–17. S ee the English translation by Pascale‑Anne Brault and Michael Naas, Learning to
Live Finally: The Last Interview (Hoboken: Melville House Publishing, 2007).
degger’s Trakl, h owever, t he n egative i s s tressed. F or t he unausgetragene

Kind is precisely the stranger, the youth, whether girl or boy, who in some
sense remains unborn, Ungeborenes. Yet Heidegger is more likely (at least
in o ther t exts) t o u se t he word Austrag with r eference t o the p romise of
a more incipient b eginning, a co mmencement t hat remains concealed in
the history of metaphysics, a p romise not yet fulfilled or borne out in t he
history of t he West but intimated in hi s own “other t hinking.” Austrag is
therefore in timately b ound u p w ith t he des tinal in H eidegger’s t hinking,
with Schickung and Geschick, and t herefore with Ereignis and t he g rant‑
ing o f t he c learing a nd o f p resence, a s w ell a s t he t hinking o f difference
as t he G reek c arrying‑through o r c arrying o ut—the difference b etween
beings and being and all the vicissitudes of that difference in H eidegger’s
long c areer o f t hought. A ll t his i s b rought t o b ear in a n im portant p as‑
sage in t he first Trakl es say (US 25), t he o pening es say o f Unterwegs zur
Sprache, called simply “Language.” Derrida refers to the passage during his
seminar—one of his very few leaps outside of “Die Sprache im Gedicht”—
doubtless b ecause différence and différance have b een o n hi s min d sin ce
the beginning:
La dif‑férence (Unter‑schied) dans s on unicité et s on intimité

est ce q ui uni t l a di aphora et ce q ui p orte à t erme en a yant
porté d’un bout à l’autre (der durchtragende Austrag). La figure
ou le p rocès d u p orté à t erme (co mme o n le di t de l ’enfant),
la figure de l a p ortée co mme dif‑férence, c ’est A ustrag, q ui
devient co mme un sy nonyme de différence d ans le t exte de
Heidegger.  .  .  .  Ici E lis, le m ort ét ranger, dép loie l ’essence
humaine vers ce q ui n’est pas encore arrivé à t erme, ce q ui n’a
pas encore été porté (noch nicht zum Tragen  .  .  .  gekommen).
Et H. ajoute entre parenthèses: vieil allemand giberan: donc ce
qui n’est p as en core n é (un born, un geboren). Et c’est un m ot,
Ungeborenes, de Trakl. Ainsi ce q ui est encore unausgetragen
(non p orté à t erme  .  .  .) et p ar l à plus en r epos et p lus s erein
dans l’être du mort, le poète, dit H., le nomme das Ungeborene:
l’ingénéré, dit la traduction française.
ἀ e dif‑ference (Unter‑schied) in its unicity and intimacy is that

which unites the διαφορά and also that which carries to term,
having c arried f rom o ne en d t o t he o ther ( der durchtragende
Austrag). ἀ e figure or the process of carrying to term (as one
says o f an infa nt), t he figure o f b eing‑carried a s dif‑ference,
this is the Austrag, which comes to be a synonym for differ‑

ence in the Heideggerian text.  .  .  .  Here Elis, the dead stranger,
deploys the human essence in t he direction of that which has
not yet arrived at its term, that which has not yet been borne
(noch nicht zum Tragen . . . gekommen). And Heidegger adds
in parentheses: the old German word giberan, thus, that which
has not yet been born (the English unborn, German ungeboren).
ἀ e l atter ( Ungeborenes) i s a w ord o f T rakl’s. H ence, t hat
which i s s till unausgetragen (not c arried t o t erm  .  .  .) a nd b y
that v ery fac t t hat w hich i s m ore r eposeful a nd m ore s erene
in t he b eing of t he dead, i s, says H eidegger, w hat the p oet
names das Ungeborene. ἀ e French translation says l’ingénéré,
the ungenerated.
As Derrida continues his analysis (13; US 55), t he tale of the serene

unborn, those who are in some sense merely on the other side of the liv‑
ing, t hose w ho have not yet come to b ear or to b e b orne out, as it were,
becomes even more uncanny. His notes continue:
Et H eidegger ci te un a utre v ers, un a utre p oème (H eiterer

Frühling), “Clair printemps”:
Und Ungebornes pflegt der eignen Ruh.

Et l’ingénéré veille son propre repos.
Cet ingénéré veille et garde (wahrt) l’enfance plus sereine pour

l’éveil à venir du Menschengeschlechtes (de l’espèce humaine—
ou du s exe à v enir). L e j eune m ort v it ainsi. Il p révoit, i l voit
d’avance l’azur de la nuit spirituelle. Les blanches paupières qui
protègent s on r egard b rillent d ans l a p arure n uptiale (p lutôt
d’une épouse) qui promet (verspricht)—tout cela est une médi‑
tation s ur la p romesse  .  .  .  qui promet die sanftere Zwiefalt
des Geschlechtes, le plus tendre dédoublement du genre, dit la
traduction, d u s exe a ussi, q ui p romet un e différence s exuelle
sans dissension.
And Heidegger cites another verse, from another poem (“Heit‑

erer F rühling”), “ Cloudless S pring”: Und Ungeborenes pflegt
der eignen Ruh. “And t he un generated k eeps t o i ts p roper
repose.” ἀ e ungenerated keep watch over and protect (wahrt)
the more serene childhood for the coming awakening of the

Menschengeschlecht (of t he h uman s pecies—or o f t he s ex t o
come). ἀ us the young dead one lives. He is clairvoyant, he sees
in ad vance t he azure of t he s piriting nig ht. His w hite e yelids,
protecting hi s gaze , s hine in t he n uptial ado rnment (w hich
belongs ra ther t o t he b ride) t hat p romises ( verspricht).—All
of t his i s a m editation o n t he p romise  .  .  .  which p ledges die
sanftere Zwiefalt des Geschlechts, “the m ore t ender do ubling
of t he g enre,” a s t he F rench t ranslation s ays, b ut o f s ex a lso,
promising a sexual difference without dissension.
Derrida says no more about the nuptial adornment—of the bride—

in t he e yes of t he un born y outh. He p ursues in stead a r eflection (unf or‑
tunately truncated) on the meaning of “gold” in T rakl’s p oetry, especially
with r egard t o t he regard, t he gaze , a nd v ision. We a lso r ecall t hat t he
unlikely Jünglingin is en visaged a s a “ golden” figure. H e t hen n otes t hat
the co rruption o f t he di sessenced Geschlecht does n ot, hi storically a nd
temporally considered, come after the beginning—that is to say, not after
the promised commencement of this new, more matutinal, more incipient
Geschlecht. Rather, such disessencing precedes the commencement of the
unborn s ex o r t he un born g eneration. ἀ us t he q uestion o f t he when?
of t he s econd b low, o f t he s troke t hat in troduces di scord a nd s avagery
into the twofold of the sexes, is raised—and immediately frustrated—once
again. T o t hink t his s trange t emporality t hat H eidegger i s in sisting o n
(see especially US 57), says Derrida, we would h ave t o r ethink b oth the
linearity a nd t he cir cularity o f A ristotelian‑Hegelian t ime. H ere D errida
refers t o hi s o wn “ Ousia a nd G rammè,” di scussed a ll t oo b riefly in t he
Introduction to the present volume.
Derrida now (14–15), le aping far ahead in Heidegger’s text, engages
the problem of the tension in Heidegger’s proscription of all dissemination
of meaning—while affirming nonetheless the essential polysemy or Mehr‑
deutigkeit of poetic language. It is here that Heidegger discusses die unge‑
bornen Enkel, “the unborn grandchildren,” of Trakl’s last poem, “Grodek,”
named a fter a c atastrophic b attle e arly d uring World War I. ἀ e p oem
concludes in this way: “Oh, prouder mourning! you brazen altars / Spirit’s
hot flame f eeds t oday o n a n o verwhelming a gony, / ἀ e un born g rand‑
children.” Die ungebornen Enkel, reads t he final line. Enkel, says D errida,
is like the Old French nepos, which derives from the Greek νήπιος, child,
or the young of a litter, which in turn becomes the Modern French neveu,
“nephew” o r “ descendant.” (O ddly, in En glish w e h ear in t he G erman
word its relation to uncle. In English as well, especially during the seven‑
teenth century, the word nephew means more “grandchild” than “nephew.”
ἀ e O ED m entions t hat t he w ord wa s o ften a eu phemism f or t he c hild
of a priest: “Shall I call you uncle, father?” asks the little nephew, anxious
to please.) ἀ e French word too means “progeny” initially, t he little ones
who co me a fter, lo ng b efore i t co mes t o m ean “ nephew.” D escartes, f or
example, u ses t he w ord in o rder t o invoke t he g enerations t o co me. ἀ e
German word derives from the very odd form eninchili, a diminutive form
(combining both ‑chen and ‑le or ‑ling) of the late Old High German ano,
“our” w ord Ahn, or “ ancestor,” s uggesting t hat t he g enerations t o co me
are in fac t t iny r eincarnations o f t he a ncestry. Der Enkel is t he a ncestor
who has come again, returning as the little one. Hermann Paul notes that
the p roper m eaning o f Enkel i s “ Little G randfather” (HP 163B). D errida
adds a t ypewritten n ote: “ Neveux: g énération s autée,” r eferring p erhaps
to Heidegger’s comments on the skipped generation—inasmuch as those
who h ave fa llen in t he wa r w ill en gender n o y oung (US 65: “ ἀ e Enkel
mentioned here are by no means the unengendered sons of the sons who
have fallen, those who derive from the decomposing Geschlecht”).
Heidegger’s in sistence o n t his “ by n o m eans” i s s omething t hat
in Lunar Voices I described as shocking, and even today, decades later,
the co ldness o f Heidegger’s r easoning di sarms m e co mpletely. Heidegger
writes, “ Yet if i t w ere o nly a m atter o f t he ces sation o f t he co ntinued
reproduction o f p rior Geschlechter [Fortzeugung bisheriger Geschlechter],
then t he p oet w ould h ave t o j ubilate o ver s uch a n en d.” ἀ e im age o f
Trakl celebrating the agonies that he, as a medic, was unable to prevent or
alleviate, the horrible deaths that surely led to his own suicide, is nothing
less t han h orrific; it r eminds o ne o f t he h arshest a spects o f H eidegger’s
political utterances and deeds of the 1930s, or his silences of the 1950s.5
Derrida’s r esponse t o H eidegger’s r emark i s m uch m ore s edate,
although t he di smay s hines t hrough, a s w e s hall n ow s ee. Yet t here m ay
be something in Derrida’s consideration of the words Enkel and neveu that
for him a meliorates H eidegger’s r emark. P rogeny a re a s s uch, a t le ast in
a s ense, a lways t he skipped generation: t he child enters on t he s cene not
as t he s on o r d aughter o f m other a nd fa ther b ut a s t he s pittin’ im age o f
5. Heidegger’s Black Notebooks contain p assages o f t his s ort. I n 1941 h e w rites t hat t he wa r
will b ring a bout n othing o ther t han t he f ull acco mplishment o f t echnology, “ the final ac t o f
which w ill b e t hat t he e arth det onates i tself a nd h umanity a s w e n ow k now i t w ill di sappear”
(96:238). As t hough b y way o f co nsolation, Heidegger add s, “ Yet t his i s n o mi sfortune, b ut t he
first p urification of being of i ts m ost p rofound di sfigurement d ue t o t he do minance o f b eings”
(ibid.). E arth exp loded a nd m ortals des troyed—for t he s ake o f b eing’s p urification. Heidegger’s
“last god” may jubilate over such pyrification, but Trakl assuredly does not.
its grandparentage. ἀ e male child is quite literally the father of the man
who is his father, and the female child is the mother of the daughter who
is her mother. And so on. Derrida writes:
Ici H. s’intéresse à ce mot Enkel, pour remarquer que les neveux,

les descendants ne sont pas les fils inengendrés des fils tombés
à l a guer re (le cture co urante d u p oème), i ls n e n omment p as
dans le poème l’interruption dans la propagation des générations
(Geschlechter) car alors, l’espèce étant en voie de corruption, le
poète devrait plutôt s’en réjouir (du moins dans la logique que
lui prête H.). Il s’agit pour H. d’un “stolzeren Trauer” (d’un deuil
plus haut, plus élevé, plus fier, plus altier) qui dans sa flamme
regarde la paix de l’ingénéré (die R uhe des Ungeborenen). Les
ingénérés, les inengendrés sont neveux parce qu’ils ne peuvent
pas être des fils, c’est à dire des rejetons, des descendants directs,
immédiats du “verfallenen Geschlechts,” de l’espèce ou du sexe
déchu. “Entre eux et cet te es pèce ou ce s exe (G eschlecht) i l y
a un e a utre g énération (G eneration, cet te f ois). E lle es t a utre
parce q ue d ’un a utre o rdre, p uisque d ’une a utre p rovenance,
celle du matin, de l’origine de l’inengendré.” (14–15)
Here Heidegger takes an interest in this word Enkel, remarking

that t he neveux, the des cendants, a re n ot t he un engendered
sons o f t he s ons w ho h ave fa llen in t he wa r (t hat i s t he c ur‑
rent way of reading the p oem); the Enkel of the p oem do n ot
designate t he in terruption in t he p ropagation o f g enerations
(Geschlechter), inasmuch as, because the species is on the path
of co rruption, t he p oet w ould in stead h ave t o r ejoice o ver
this (a t le ast acco rding t o t he log ic t hat H eidegger a ttributes
to him). F or H eidegger i t i s a m atter o f a stolzeren Trauer (a
higher, m ore e levated m ourning, a p rouder, lo ftier m ourn‑
ing) which in its flame gazes on the peace of the unborn (die
Ruhe des Ungeborenen). ἀ e un generated, t he un engendered,
are des cendents b ecause t hey c annot b e b orn of s ons, c annot
be offshoots or direct des cendents, imm ediate des cendents of
the “fallen Geschlecht,” of the deposed species or sex. “Between
them a nd t his s pecies o r s ex ( Geschlecht) t here li ves a nother
generation (t his t ime: Generation). It i s o ther b ecause i t i s o f
another order, in acco rd w ith its essentially other provenance
from the dawn of the unengendered” (US 65–66).
Several paragraphs later (US 67), H eidegger refers to a “coming res‑

urrection o f t he human Geschlecht from o ut o f t he d awn.” W hat en ables
such a r esurrection is the skipped generation. Yet the French translation,
Derrida n otes, r efuses t o t ranslate Auferstehung a s “ resurrection,” w hich
is the only possible sense of the German word. Derrida is surely right in
this, but a s far a s I c an s ee, h e n eglects t o cite Trakl’s “sweet s ong of t he
resurrected,” e ven t hough H eidegger’s ig noring t hese lin es f rom T rakl’s
Abendländisches Lied, or “ Western S ong,” in vites s uch a r eference. ἀ e
line o ccurs in t he final s trophe of t he “ Western S ong,” t he v ery p oem in
which w e find t he de cisive r eference t o E i n Geschlecht. ἀ e final lin es
of “Abendländisches Lied”:
O, die bittere Stunde des Untergangs,

Da wir ein steinernes Antlitz in schwarzen Wassern beschaun.
Aber strahlend heben die silbernen Lider die Liebenden:
E i n Geschlecht. Weihrauch strömt von rosigen Kissen
Und der süße Gesang der Auferstandenen. (T 66)
Oh, the bitter hour of downfall,

When we gaze on a stony face in black waters.
Yet radiantly rise the silver eyelids of lovers:
O n e Geschlecht. Incense streams from pillows all roses
And the sweet song of the resurrected.
Later on in the course, Derrida will analyze more closely Heidegger’s

use of this poem, “Abendländisches Lied,” and he will not shy from criti‑
cism. Yet h ere i t i s im portant f or u s t o n ote t hat H eidegger ig nores t he
fact that the “resurrected” are lovers, lovers reclining on pillows, and not
some v ertically des tined b oy‑girl p air, n or b rother a nd si ster, Geschwis‑
terliches, not some matutinal transformation of siblings who are regressing
to t heir m ore serene childhood. C oncerning t he lovers a nd t he b eloved,
we recall H eidegger’s desire t o h ave the poet leave them behind: this
becomes a pparent in hi s in terpretation o f t he lin e Schied uns bald von
Lieben, Andern, which w e exa mined in t he f oregoing c hapter. F or H ei‑
degger, the “loved ones” are those the poet now scorns, “the others” whom
he cannot wait to abandon, inasmuch as they—and not he himself—per‑
tain t o t he de composing Geschlecht. Yet D errida do es n ot a t t his p oint,
or at a ny p oint, r eject Heidegger’s r eading o utright. He r estrains him self
and remains close to Heidegger’s text. And thus he comes to his startling
conclusion—startling, at least, if one has banished psychoanalysis from
both co mmentary a nd p lacement—that t he si bling r elation, e ven d uring

that more serene childhood, is anything but asexual:
Ce ra ssemblement d u j eune m ort o u de l ’ingénéré p répare l a

résurrection à v enir du Geschlecht. Comme esprit de do uceur
il a paise l ’esprit d u m al, c ’est à dir e de cet te m alfaisance q ui
atteint son comble dans la dissension (le Zwietracht) des s exes
qui vient éclater, faire irruption jusque dans le Geschwisterliche,
dans le ra pport entre f rère et s oeur. L a di ssension s exuelle, l a
différence sexuelle comme Zwietracht, comme dualité agonis‑
tique c’est donc ce qui perturbe une différence sexuelle sereine,
celle qui aurait lieu entre frère et s oeur avant la malédiction et
le mal, la mauvaise flamme de l ’esprit. Ce Geschwisterliche, ce
rapport en tre f rère et s oeur, n e s erait do nc p as a‑sexué, m ais
rapport sexuel dans une différence sans dissension.
ἀi s ga thering o f t he y oung de ad m an o r o f t he un generated

prepares t he r esurrection t o co me o f t he Geschlecht. As t he
spirit of gentleness he appeases the spirit of evil, that is, of the
malfeasance that reaches its zenith in the dissension (Zwietracht)
of the sexes which now explodes, intervening even in the rela‑
tion of siblings (Geschwisterliche), the relation between brother
and si ster. S exual di ssension, s exual difference a s di scord, a s
agonistic duality, is that which disturbs a s erene sexual differ‑
ence, t hat w hich would t ake place b etween brother and sister
prior to the curse and prior to evil, the wicked flame of spirit.
ἀi s Geschwisterliche, this relation between brother and sister,
is thus not asexual, but is a s exual relation within a difference
that is without dissension.
At t his p oint (15), D errida a nnounces t hat h e w ill le ave t he rest of

the di scussion o f b rother a nd si ster in H eidegger’s es say t o t he r eading
of hi s s tudents. H ow r egrettable! H e t hus v entures n o co mment o n t he
strange n egotiation in H eidegger’s t ext (US 69–70) w hereby t he s tranger
becomes a b rother to t he brother, and t hereby, a ltogether mysteriously, a
brother t o t he si ster, in s ome wa y a ppropriating h er o r a t le ast c laiming
to appropriate the lunar voice of t he sister, die mondene Stimme. (I h ave
developed t his p roblem in Lunar Voices, and I w ill r eturn t o i t in t he
final c hapter o f t his v olume. L et m e h ere m erely add t hat H eidegger’s
absorption o f g irlhood in to b oyhood di splays t his s ame t endency.) N or
does D errida co mment o n H eidegger’s di sturbing n eglect o f t he t heme

of t he lo vers in T rakl’s p oetry; i t i s a s t hough, un der t he gui se o f r escu‑
ing t he h uman race , H eidegger f orces Trakl’s b rother a nd si ster b ack t o
their os tensibly un complicated c hildhood—which, w e m ay o bject, m ay
not h ave b een s o s erene. I n o ther w ords, t he en tire q uestion o f s exual
difference in Trakl’s poetry hangs on the story of the lovers who establish
o n e Geschlecht. Whether they do s o as brother and sister should there‑
fore be not so much a biographical question as the question of Heidegger’s
“placement,” the unasked question of a p ossible third stroke, the question
that in H eidegger is reduced to si lence. D errida himself do es not broach
the possibility of such a third blow, by which discord between the sexes
invades t he s pace o f b rother a nd si ster—perhaps b ecause t he t hird i s
already implied in t he relation of the two strokes to one another. B e that
as it may, I would have wanted to ask Derrida whether we might well call
the “one” Geschlecht of lovers the phantom of the other in Heidegger’s text.
Yet f or t he m oment we m ust co ntinue t o f ollow D errida’s s eminar
notes, which, to repeat, move on to the question of polysemy, that is, the
Mehrdeutigkeit of p oetic l anguage, w hich H eidegger f eels co nfident h e
can prevent from becoming dispersion and dissemination of meaning. As
we mig ht exp ect, D errida i s m uch les s co nfident t han H eidegger in t his
respect. In Derrida’s view, developed in p ages 16–19 o f the notes for this
ninth s ession, H eidegger r emains c lassically A ristotelian in t hat h e w ill
embrace p olysemy only if t he various m eanings of a w ord are s ubject t o
an o rdering, a hiera rchy, a nd a n u ltimate uni ty. F or H eidegger, p oetry
is mehrdeutig b ut n ever o ut o f co ntrol, n ever di spersed o r s cattered: t he
poetic p reserves i ts “ place” a t a nd a s t he s pearpoint, w hich i s n ever t he
double‑edged sword of meaning but a lways t he singular gathering p oint,
der Ort, o f t he p oem. N othing li ke di ssemination o f m eaning i s a vail‑
able t o o r acces sible in H eidegger’s t hinking, ex cept a s Heimatlosigkeit
and Ver‑wesung, homelessness, r ootlessness, decomposition, disessenc‑
ing. ἀ ere i s in e very v erse o f p oetry eine zweideutige Zweideutigkeit, a
redoubled ambiguity, Heidegger concedes, but he will vigorously deny that
one of these redoubled couples is a result of the malign stroke, the second
blow, the stroke of evil inflicting on all meaning a fatal hemorrhaging.
Allow me to intervene at this early point in the discussion. Whereas
Derrida’s complaint seems justified with regard to the Heidegger of 1953,
matters may b e quite different in 1928, o r in 1927. W hen we study once
again s ection 38 o f Being and Time on Zweideutigkeit, “ ambiguity,” w e
find t hat w e a re left in a far les s det erminate a nd iden tifiable Ortschaft.
For the ambiguity in w hich everyday Dasein moves is pervasive, and one
does not see how any kind of open resolve, running ahead toward the
end o f Dasein, co uld di spel i t. I ndeed, e verything H eidegger s ays h ere
frustrates o ur desir e t o s ee di straction, di spersion, t he cra ving f or n ov‑
elty, a nd “ falling p rey” r outed. On e o f t he m ost radic al c laims in Being
and Time is a bout t his ir reducible t wofoldness o f m eaning o r sig nifi‑
cance; it i s a s t hough Heidegger e arly on h as b ecome a c areful reader of
Herman Melville’s Pierre; or, The Ambiguities, in w hich, in cidentally, t he
brother‑sister relation is central to the catastrophe of the plot. Heidegger
writes, in lin es we examined e arlier, “Everything lo oks as t hough it were
all genuinely understood, g rasped, and expressed, and yet at b ottom it is
not; or it all looks as though this were not so, and at bottom it truly is so”
(SZ 173). And this happens not merely to everyday folk who are caught
up in d ailiness, b ut a lso t o p hilosophers w ho a vidly a ttend co nferences
and speak their everyday piece there (20:376).
Yet let u s r eturn t o 1953, a nd t o D errida’s co mplaint. I s H eidegger
truly s o co nfident t hat t he p oems o f T rakl c an b e r escued f rom a mbi‑
guity, o r f rom a p olysemy t hat w ould in here in t he im ages o f T rakl’s
poetry, c ausing t hem t o exp lode acr oss t he p age: t he b lood‑bespattered
linens, dust dancing in the stench of gutters, siblings shivering in the park,
the w eeping un born, t he si ster’s m outh w hispering a mong d ark t wigs?
“Autumn Transfigured” says, as we have already heard,
Wie schön sich Bild an Bildchen reiht—

Das geht in Ruh und Schweigen unter.
How splendidly image and cameo line up—

In repose and silence all goes down.
For Heidegger, says Derrida, “this plurality of meaning (das Mehrdeutige)

of p oetic s aying do es not disperse, do es not disseminate, is not s cattered
to t he w inds t his wa y a nd t hat in a n in determinate p olyvalence ( flattert
nicht ins unbestimmte Vieldeutige auseinander). It gathers itself. ἀ e plu‑
rality gathers, the polysemy converges, and, given this condition, there is
a poetic space, a Gedicht.”6 For Heidegger, polyphony and polysemy alike
rest on a tonic, a Grundton, and there is nothing insecure or indeterminate
6. “[C]ette pluralité de s ens (Mehrdeutige), du dire poétique, ne s’éparpille pas, ne se dissémine
pas, ne devient pas éparse dans le vent deci-delà d’une polyvalence indéterminée (flattert nicht ins
unbestimme Vieldeutige auseinander). Elle se rassemble. L a pluralité se rassemble, la polysémie
converge, et c’est à cette condition qu’il y a un lieu poétique, un Gedicht” (16).
about this Grundton. What Heidegger despises most is what he calls (US
75) t he in security a nd in determinacy des poetischen Umhertastens, “t he
gropings of a p oetizer” (18). ἀ e result of Heidegger’s allergy to dissemi‑
nation, in D errida’s v iew, i s t his: “ ἀ ere i s a p lace, a h omeland, a p oem,
and in t he en d a n a bsolute uni vocity o f l anguage,” il y a un Ort, une
patrie, un Gedicht, et finalement une univocité absolue de la langue (19).
To be sure, Heidegger is forced to distinguish this univocity from the
techno‑scientific, modern‑Cartesian uni vocity t hat would reflect a fa lse
security in cer titude; and so a di vision into two is necessary. ἀ ere turns
out to be a good uni vocity and a bad univocity, just as there is a good
sexual difference and a bad one, a good Geschlecht and a corrupt one. ἀ e
irony i s t hat in H eidegger’s s cheme o f t hings s loppy p oetizing a nd exac t
science wind up on the same side of the line, and this too cannot be good.
Session ten of the seminar continues to follow the good and the bad,
the doubling gesture in H eidegger’s clarification and placement of Trakl’s
poetry. ἀr ee questions are posed here: (1) whether Heidegger’s insistence
that Trakl’s p oetry is b eyond Platonism and is unmarked by Christianity
can b e m aintained a t a ll; (2) w hat h appens w hen H eidegger’s G erman
idiom confronts—and is even translated into—the Latinate French; and
(3) w hy t he Ort must b e, f or H eidegger, a si te o f ga thering. A ll t hese
questions have to do w ith the unsaid of the poem, its tonic or Grundton,
which f or H eidegger i s c aptured in t he em phatic E i n of Geschlecht.
ἀ e un said h as t o do w ith a si lence t hat en compasses e ven t he O ld a nd
Middle High G erman, a si lence t hat releases t he untranslatable idiom of
Geschlecht. It a lso h as t o do w ith t he do uble Schlag (the s trokes o f g ood
and e vil), a nd w ith T rakl’s p utative n on‑Christian, n on‑Platonic s tatus,
that is, with the particular “place” or lieu of the poet (1–2).
Yet t he s ession n ow (3–4) t akes a s urprising t urn. D errida r efers
to Heidegger Gesamtausgabe volume 54:119, where—as we have already
heard in chapter 2, on Heidegger’s hand—Heidegger talks about the dete‑
rioration o f w riting t hat h as r esulted f rom t he u se o f t he t ypewriter a nd
the dic taphone—the r eduction o f l anguage t o a Verkehrsmittel o r m ode
of t ransportation. ἀ e w riter dic tates t o t he m achine, “und er diktiert
in die Maschine,” l aments H eidegger. D errida s hows t hat t his dic tation
is t he s elfsame dict of Gedicht, a nd t hat s uch a dict t races t he lin e o f
a ra pport b etween G erman a nd L atin, w hich f or H eidegger i s a lways a
line of corruption and mistranslation. And the putatively singular Gedicht
of H eidegger’s T rakl i s en capsulated in the em phatic Ein o f t he E i n
Geschlecht, t he singular place w here a ll Geschlecht is gathered, namely, at
the “ indivisible p oint of t he s pear,” t he Ort of Trakl’s unspoken and uni ‑
vocal p oem. It a ll comes back to t he tension b etween p olysemy and di s‑

semination, the tension between Mehrdeutigkeit in the language of poetry
and utter Zerstreuung with the subsequent loss of meaning. Heidegger
would protest that the unifold or Einfalt of poetic language, in i ts gather‑
ing, does not reduce meaning to uniformity, but is rich and multifaceted.
ἀ ere h as t o b e a p athbreaking m ovement, Be‑wegung, in t he p oem a nd
in i ts let ter, e ven if t he let ter i s in divisible a nd t he s ound un spoken. Yet
to in sist o n différance as dissémination w ould in H eidegger’s v iew b e t he
very death of gathering. Derrida now insists that this is more than a “ten‑
sion” in Heidegger’s situation. Rather, both gathering a nd dissemination
pertain t o de construction i tself, es pecially w hen de construction in vokes
the phantasmatic:
S’il n’y avait que du rassemblement, du même, de l’unique, du

lieu sans chemin, ce s erait la mort sans phrases. Et ce n’est pas
ce que veut dire H. puisqu’il insiste aussi sur le mouvement, le
chemin de l’étranger, le chemin vers les autres, etc. Il faut donc
qu’entre le lieu et le non‑lieu, le rassemblement et la divisibilité,
les rapports soient autres, une sorte de n égociation et de co m‑
promis (différance) soit sans cesse en cours qui oblige à refondre
la log ique im plicite q ui s emble guider H. Dir e q u’il y a de l a
divisibilité ne revient p as non plus à dir e qu’il n’y a q ue de l a
divisibilité ou de l a division (ce s erait aussi la mort). L a mort
guette des deux côtés, du côté du phantasme de l’intégrité du lieu
propre et de l’innocence d’une différence sexuelle sans guerre, et
du côté opposé, celui d’une impropriété ou d’une expropriation
radicale, v oire d’une guer re d u G eschlecht co mme di ssension
sexuelle. J e n e m e s ers p as d u m ot fa ntasme à l a lég ère, en
faisant comme si nous savions déjà grâce à la psychanalyse ce
qu’il en es t d u p hantasme. En v érité c’est un des co ncepts les
plus obscurs de l adite psychanalyse. Non, il s’agit au contraire
d’élaborer le co ncept de p hantasme à p artir de cet te “grande
logique,” de ce q ue j e nomme ici p ar ironie puisque ce q ue j e
veux dire c’est que la grande logique de l a philosophie la plus
continue, ce lle q ui s uppose un e ext ériorité de l ’essence et de
l’accident, d u p ur et de l ’impur, d u p ropre et de l ’impropre,
du bien et d u mal, cette g rande log ique  .  .  .  reste malgré tout
à l ’oeuvre, m algré les p uissants m ouvements dé constructeurs
chez H eidegger co ntre l a g rande log ique h egelienne (v oir ce
qu’il dit du Logos comme rassemblant). (6–7)
If t here w ere o nly ga thering, t he s ame, t he uniq ue, t he p lace

without p ath, t hen, n ot to min ce words, t his would b e de ath.
And t his i s n ot w hat Heidegger wants t o s ay, in asmuch a s h e
insists o n m ovement, o n t he p ath o f t he s tranger, t he p ath
toward the others, and so on. It must be that between place and
nonplace, b etween ga thering a nd di visibility, t he r elationship
is o therwise. ἀ ere m ust b e a s ort o f n egotiation a nd co m‑
promise ( différance) t hat is ce aselessly in p lay, s omething t hat
would oblige us to reconstitute the implicit logic that appears
to guide H eidegger. To s ay t hat t here i s di visibility do es n ot
come down to saying that there is only divisibility or division.
(ἀi s t oo w ould b e de ath.) D eath lies in wa it o n b oth sides,
with t he p hantasm o f t he in tegrity o f t he p roper p lace a nd
the innocence of a s exual difference without war, and also on
the opposite side, that of impropriety or radical expropriation,
or of a war of Geschlecht as sexual dissension. I do not use
the word phantasm lightly here, as though thanks to psycho‑
analysis we a lready k new w hat i s phantasmatic about a ll t his.
In truth, the phantasm is one of the most obscure concepts in
psychoanalysis. No, on t he contrary, w hat t his involves i s our
elaborating t he co ncept o f p hantasm b y t aking a s o ur p oint
of dep arture t he “ grand log ic,” a t erm I a m u sing ir onically
here, b ecause w hat I wa nt t o s ay i s t hat t he m ost co ntinuous
grand logic of philosophy is in spite of everything still at work
here, t he g rand log ic t hat p resupposes a n ext eriority b etween
essence and accident, pure and impure, proper and improper,
good a nd e vil, r emaining s till a t w ork in s pite o f H eidegger’s
powerfully de constructive movements against t he g rand log ic
of Hegel. (Observe what he says of the Logos as gathering.)
I take t hat final parenthetical remark to be referring to Heidegger’s

“Logos” es say, w hich i s a ll a bout Versammlung, although t here w ould
surely be occasions, in H egel’s lesser or greater Logics, where the concept
gathers all difference into its besitzergreifenden grasp. Heidegger concedes
the p lurivocity o f Trakl’s Grundton, t he p lurivocity o f i ts co nsonance o r
Einklang, and he even admits that Trakl has to borrow words and images
from the representational world (Vorstellungswelt) of Christianity, “Worte,
die zur biblischen und kirchlichen Vorstellungswelt gehören,” says Heidegger
(US 75). Yet Heidegger insists that this polysemy can be reduced and the
Platonic‑Christian r esidues exp unged w hen i t co mes t o iden tifying t he
place o f T rakl’s p oem. H eidegger a ppears t o b e v ery p rudent a nd v ery

cautious, yet ultimately he claims that his own thinking back or thinking
toward ( Nachdenken) t he p lace o f T rakl’s p oem c annot t ake u p in a ny
positive way “Christian” notions, whatever these may be (8).
Perhaps a c aveat is in order here. If I am right, it is not that Derrida
wants to restore Trakl to a p lace within the various Christian or Platonic
traditions; it is rather that he wants to challenge Heidegger’s confidence
that a ny Nachdenken c an co ntrol t he effects o f p olysemy a nd p lurivoc‑
ity. It i s t his l ack o f p rudence o n Heidegger’s p art t hat di sturbs D errida,
with its dogmatism and its potential or actual violence. When Trakl ends
a p oem h e c alls “Psalm” w ith t he lin e, Schweigsam über die Schädelstätte
öffnen sich Gottes goldene Augen, “Silently over the Place of the Skull open
God’s golden e yes,” we do n ot k now w hat t he si lence over G olgotha and
those feline eyes might mean. If this is a psalm, and it is, its first line
says, Es ist ein Licht, das der Wind ausgelöscht hat, “It i s a lig ht t hat t he
wind has extinguished.” It is hard to read in t he dark. ἀ at is perhaps all
that D errida wa nts t o a ffirm a t t he m oment. Yet h e w ill s oon g o m uch
farther, if only in the dark.
Heidegger’s i s a p lurivocity h e f eels h e c an do minate b y f orce o f a
gathering, une plurivocité dominable, rassembable. Whence the power of
such do minion? I t a rises f rom H eidegger’s co nfidence in t he p urity a nd
mutual ex clusion o f o pposites, t he co nfidence t hat N ietzsche’s a nalysis
of t he first g reat er ror o r p rejudice o f m etaphysics ( Beyond Good and
Evil, sections 2, 24, and elsewhere) ought to have subverted forever. Hei‑
degger’s s trategy o f di stinguishing t he t wo s trokes, t he g ood f rom t he
evil, t hus s eems t o b e en tirely dep endent o n a t le ast o ne s trand o f t he
Christian‑Platonic t radition. ἀ e p lace o f m alediction o r c urse, a nd t he
place of the corruption of our Geschlecht, the place that Heidegger claims
to b e a ble t o iden tify, w ill in fac t b e t he p lace t hat h as p roduced t he
tradition o f m etaphysics a nd m orals. W hat Heidegger i s c laiming i s t hat
he h as in sight in to a m ore o riginary g round o r f ounding m oment, o ne
that i s n ot radic ally dep endent o n t he co rrupted f orm. It i s t he c laim t o
this m ore o riginary r epetition t hat c auses D errida t o do ubt, t he c laim
that s eems t o him, if o ne m ay un derstate t he m atter, “ problematic” (9).
Derrida goes to considerable lengths t o s how w hy Heidegger’s insistence
that Trakl is not ein so entschiedener Christ, not “so de cidedly C hristian”
(US 76), i s “coarse,” if n ot grossière and b asically “crude.” In a ny c ase,
no m atter h ow o ne m ay j udge T rakl’s r elation t o p ast t raditions, H ei‑
degger h ere los es e very s ense o f p lurivocity (10–12). I t i s dem onstrably
true that in his penultimate poem, “Lament,” Trakl invokes not the Christ
but the sister who greets the dead heroes on the battlefield. According to
Heidegger, t his s hows t hat h e i s n ot a “ decided C hristian.” Trakl s eems,
although n either H eidegger n or D errida t races t he a llusion, t o b e c loser
to some sort of Wagnerian or Nordic invocation of the Valkyrie. Derrida
nevertheless a ssures hi s s tudents t hat if t hey w ould g rant him a b it o f
time h e co uld s how t hem t hat t he figure o f t he si ster a nd t hat o f C hrist
could in fac t b e s ubstituted, o r s et in a lternation, t he o ne f or t he o ther.
He m eans t his n ot flippantly, b ut “gravely,” “ in f ear a nd t rembling.” D er‑
rida, in fac t, takes that time, and we ought to take the time to follow his
demonstration. F or, if e arlier I l amented D errida’s de cision t o le ave t he
remainder o f t his t heme (b rother a nd si ster, o r b rother‑sister‑lovers) t o
his s tudents, a s t hough h e h ad n o m ore t o s ay a bout i t, t he f ollowing
remarks on what might otherwise be called a m atter of theology respond
in a n a stonishing wa y t o m y l ament. F or t he si ster a nd a cer tain C hrist
seem to meld, says Derrida,
Et précisément dans le corpus, si je puis dire, de Trakl. C om‑

ment dét erminer le s exe d u C hrist et co mment c aractériser,
dans la différence sexuelle, l’expérience proprement chrétienne,
décidément chrétienne, qu’un homme (à supposer que T. soit
un homme, décidément un homme, onesidedly a man, comme
un de ses commentateurs a osé dire de Joyce) ou une femme a
du rapport au C hrist? Fi ls de Dieu , le C hrist est f rère de t ous
les hommes et de t outes les f emmes, en m ême temps qu’il est
l’image ou l’intercesseur du père. Mais un f rère dont la virilité
n’est j amais simplement manifeste ou uni latérale, un f rère qui
se présente dans une aura d’homosexualité universelle, ou dans
un différence sexuelle apaisée, pacifiée (tendre, dirait justement
Trakl), h ors des m oments de t entatation o ù le m al es t t out
proche, un frère donc qui n’est peut‑être pas autre qu’une soeur.
Et d’un fils né d’une vierge elle‑même née d’une immaculée
conception, la détermination sexuelle ne peut être assez assurée
pour qu’on puisse dire tranquillement: là où le poète nomme la
soeur à l a p lace du C hrist, i l ne nomme p as le Christ, i l n’est
pas c hrétien p lus, s on p oème n’est p as c hrétien. C ’est d’autant
plus impossible ou précipité que H. l ui‑même ne manque pas
de prêter attention à ce couple étrange du frère et de la soeur
dans les p oèmes de T rakl. J e di s co uple p arce q u’il t émoigne
d’une différence s exuelle q ui, p our n’être p as en core o u déj à
plus ce lle de l a guer re o u de l a di ssension, de l a différence
sexuelle comme antagonisme (Zwietracht), n’est p ourtant pas

sans désir, a u s ens o ù Hegel di sait (à p ropos d’Antigone) q ue
le rapport entre frère et s oeur était begierdelos: peut‑être sans
désir manifeste dans l’espace où le désir fait la guerre, après le
deuxième co up, m ais n on s ans désir t endre, ra pport à l ’autre
comme double homosexualité, réflexion sans appropriation du
désir de l ’autre où le f rère devient la soeur et l a soeur le f rère,
etc. E t q ui p eut t ranquillement a ffirmer q ue ce n ’est p as l à
l’essence du rapport au Christ, l’essence ou du moins la destina‑
tion, la destinée qui se cherche, ce v ers quoi est chemin, toute
expérience c hétienne de l a s ainte fa mille, v oire de l a fa mille
tout co urt? (cf . G las: j e n e m e p ermets de ci ter ce t itre q ue
parce q ue c ’est a u m oment de l a m ort de T r. q ue H. ra ppelle
à ceux qui font de Tr. un c hrétien que celui‑ci aurait dû parler
du Christ et de Dieu et n on de l a soeur, soeur qui est toujours
la soeur à l a voix de l une (mondene Stimme, la voix sélénique
comme di t l a t raduction), v oix de l une q ui r ésonne d ans l a
nuit s pirituelle, co mme le di sent les der niers v ers (es chaton
[? ] a ussi) de Geistliche Dämmerung (figure es chatologique
de l a s oeur). C ette figure s élénique de l a s oeur (l ’eschaton, l a
lumière nocturne qui salue, etc.) est‑elle si étrangère à la figure
du Christ? Et le Christ, comme la soeur, est‑ce une figure dont
le sens soit si décidable? (14–15)
And t his, if I m ay s ay s o, p recisely in t he co rpus o f T rakl.

How a re w e t o det ermine t he s ex o f C hrist a nd h ow a re w e
to characterize, within sexual difference, the experience that is
properly C hristian, de cidedly C hristian, t he exp erience t hat a
man (supposing Trakl is a man, decidedly a man, “one‑sidedly
a m an,” a s a co mmentator o nce d ared t o s ay o f J oyce) o r a
woman has by way of a r elation to Christ? Son of God, Christ
is the brother of all men and all women; he is simultaneously
the im age o r t he in tercessor o f t he fa ther. Yet h e i s a brother
whose virility is never simply manifest or unilateral, a b rother
who presents himself within an aura of universal homosexual‑
ity, o r in a s exual difference t hat h as b een a ppeased, p acified
(or t ender, a s n one o ther t han Trakl w ould s ay), b eyond a ll
the m oments o f t hose t emptations w here e vil i s q uite c lose,
thus a b rother who can be nothing other than a si ster. And if
it is a m atter of a s on born of a v irgin herself born by way of

an imm aculate co nception, t he s exual determination c annot
be ade quately a ssured to t he p oint w here one could s ay quite
tranquilly t hat w herever t he p oet n ames t he si ster in stead o f
Christ b oth he and his p oem are no longer C hristian. ἀ at is
all the more impossible, all the more precipitous, given the fact
that H eidegger him self do es n ot fa il t o dra w a ttention t o t he
strange co uple o f t he b rother a nd t he si ster in T rakl’s p oems.
I s ay “ couple” b ecause t he w ord t estifies to a s exual differ‑
ence t hat, e ven t hough i t i s n o lo nger o r n ot y et a difference
of war or dissension, that is, sexual difference as antagonism
(Zwietracht), i s n evertheless n ot w ithout desir e. H egel s ays
(with regard to Antigone) that the rapport of brother and sister
is w ithout desir e, begierdelos: perhaps i t i s w ithout m anifest
desire, in that space where desire instigates war, desire after the
second b low, y et i t i s n ot w ithout t ender desir e a s a ra pport
with t he o ther, a do uble h omosexuality, a r eflection o f desir e
without a n a ppropriation o f t he o ther, a desir e in w hich t he
brother b ecomes t he si ster o r t he si ster b ecomes t he b rother,
and so on. And who may tranquilly assert that this is not the
essence of a r elation to Christ, the essence or at least the des‑
tination, t he des tined en d t hat i s s ought, t he des tiny t oward
which one is under way, the entire Christian experience of the
Holy F amily, w hich i s t o s ay, o f a ny a nd e very fa mily? —See
Glas, which I a llow m yself t o ci te o nly b ecause H eidegger
reminds a ll t hose w ho m ake o f T rakl a C hristian t hat i t i s
precisely at the moment of Trakl’s death that that he ought to
have invoked Christ and G od, not the sister, the sister w ho is
always t he si ster of t he lunar voice ( die mondene Stimme, the
Selenic voice, as t he French t ranslation s ays), t he voice of t he
moon t hat r esounds in t he s piriting nig ht, a s t he final lin es
(themselves also the ἔσχατον [?]) of Geistliche Dämmerung say,
the es chatological figure o f t he si ster. I s t his S elenic figure o f
the sister (the ἔσχατον, the nocturnal light that greets, etc.) so
entirely foreign to the figure of Christ? And is the Christ, like
the sister, a figure whose meaning is so decidable?
ἀ e r eference t o Glas, the d eath k nell, is s triking h ere, a nd o ne

could and should spend a g reat de al more t ime t racing t he t heme of t he
Magdalene, “the si ster,” w ho a noints t he f eet o f t he o ne w ho i s a bout t o

die.7 For the moment we simply observe how readily Trakl’s poetry invites
interpretation, by way of Heidegger, to both a psychoanalytic sense of
phantasm and a t heological s ense o f t he C hristian lif e a s a r edoubled
homosexuality. True, t his i s n ot a C hristianity t hat w ould do w ell in t he
Bible Belt; yet it is one that might help us to understand the virulence and
the v iolence of t hat B elt. C learly, t he strange “couple,” brother and sister,
sol et luna, is a t heme t hat invites en dless interpretation, a t heme t hat i s
“strange” in its origins and unpredictable in its consequences.
Derrida concludes this session by saying that Heidegger’s confidence
is perhaps most surprising when at the end of this part of his discussion
he co ntrasts t he u sual a ppeals t o “ Christian r edemption” t o Trakl’s o wn
reference to “the unborn grandchildren.” Why the sister? asks Heidegger.
Derrida r eplies t o H eidegger’s q uestion, b ut w hy not t he si ster? es pe‑
cially if s he is not so decisively opposable to Christ? “Especially if, in t he
end, a p oem do es s omething other t han t ranslate in a de cidable m anner
the uni vocal t hought o r exp erience o f a p oet.  .  .  .  And, a bove a ll e lse,
[if] b oth h e and hi s p oem m ay b e C hristian w ithout b eing C hristian, or
without knowing i t, or w ithout wa nting i t.”8 D errida r epeats h ere H ei‑
degger’s p hrase, a s t hough s truck b y i ts n aïveté o r i ts dog matism, ein so
entschiedener Christ, a nd h e enters a m arginal n ote: “Foi = [a nd t he r est
of the note not even the archivists can decipher!].”9 Trakl, in his “Lament,”
refers to die eisige Woge / Der Ewigkeit, the icy wave of eternity that may
devour the golden image of humankind. Heidegger asks, “Is that thought
in a C hristian way?” Derrida replies, in a m anner that seems at first to be
merely flippant, “eh bien oui, pourquoi pas.” It would cer tainly not be the
Christianity of blind faith, and certainly not the faith professed in the Belt
or t aught ex cathedra anywhere. Yet D errida, t he l ast J ew, i s s urely r ight
when he stubbornly avers, “In any case, one does not see in the name of
what o ne c an de cide t hat i t i s n ot, a t le ast n ot w ithout s ome o ther s ort
of p rocess.” W hen H eidegger, e qually s tubborn, co ncludes b y s aying, “ It
7. Allow me to refer to chapter 7, “Knell,” of Krell, PB, esp. 157–68.

8. “Enfin surtout si un p oème fa it autre c hose q ue t raduire de m anière dé cidable l a p ensée o u
l’expérience uni voque d ’un p oète.  .  .  .  Surtout i l p eut, l ui o u le p oème, êt re c hrétien s ans l ’être
ou sans le savoir ou sans le vouloir” (16).
9. Michael Naas would no doubt tell us t hat t his is a r eference to w hat w ill b ecome “Faith and
Reason.” See Naas, Miracle and Machine: Jacques Derrida and the Two Sources of Religion, Science,
and the Media (New York: Fordham University Press, 2012).
is n ot e ven C hristian des pair [ christliche Verzweiflung],” D errida o bjects:

Why s uppose t hat C hristian des pair (w hatever t hat i s) s hould r emain
identifiably C hristian if i t is des pair? W hy s uppose t hat i t p reserves i ts
identity a s C hristian? P erhaps w hen t he C hristian des pairs—and D er‑
rida ventures to s ay t hat we could probably find lots of e vidence for t his
in t he li terature—what h e o r s he des pairs o f i s t he a bility t o r ecognize
the p utative f orm o f C hristian des pair in hi s o r h er o wn des pair. “ ἀ e
Christian despairs of Christianity, or he does not truly despair.”10 A S hiite
has n ever des paired o f C hristianity, r emarks D errida, b ut n either h as a
Christian, to the extent that he or she despairs in f orms that are identifi‑
ably Christian—again, whatever that could possibly mean.
At this point Derrida enters a parenthesis: “le Zwei de Verzweiflung,
cf. Hegel: doute: deux  .  .  .” ἀi s is clearly a reference to Verzweiflung as the
path o f des pair t hat n atural co nsciousness t akes, un able, a s w eak s kepti‑
cism, to distinguish between what is foreign and what is its own in a ll its
notions, t houghts, a nd o pinions (PG 67–68). T o w eak s kepticism, H egel
opposes a s kepticism t hat g oes a ll t he wa y, t aking t he t urn t o s elf‑con‑
sciousness, reason, and spirit as absolute knowing. Perhaps what Derrida
wants t o iden tify in t he t wofold o f Ver‑zwei‑flung is t he p hantasm o f a
double b low o r s troke in w hich o ne o f t he t wo c an b e c learly iden tified
as t he g ood, t he o ther a s e vil. S uch a p hantasm w ould s urely em brace
a Mehrdeutigkeit that n onetheless r esists t he di ssemination o f m eaning
and t he p redicament o f un decidability. C hristian des pair—or w hatever
can b e c learly s aid t o b e not even Christian des pair—would s urely f or
Derrida b e one of t hose undecidables. Yet not only t he t wofolds and t he
doublings a re co nfounding; s o, li kewise, a re t he uni ties, uni vocities, a nd
the ones. At t he en d of t his s ession D errida promises t o t ake up t he Ein
of E i n Geschlecht in the third—and quite brief—part of Heidegger’s “Die
Sprache im Gedicht.”
In the course of the eleventh séance, Derrida takes a detour from the
Trakl text and its “placement” of the poem (3–4). H e turns instead to the
problem of Heidegger’s references to Hölderlin’s vaterländische Umkehr, to
that p oet’s os tensible r eturn l ate in hi s ac tive lif e t o hi s “fatherland” a nd
to the very notion of homeland or Heimat, especially as Heidegger devel‑
ops t he t heme in t he “ Letter o n Humanism.” ἀ ere H eidegger s peaks o f
Heimat, as he himself says, in a way that is “nicht patriotisch, nicht nation‑
alistisch.” D errida p oints o ut t he ir ony: o n t he o ne h and, t his i s a c lear
10. “Le chrétien désespère du christianisme ou alors il ne désespère pas vraiment” (16–17).
condemnation o f a ll c hauvinistic iden tifications w ith a fa therland, a nd

yet, on the other hand, because Heidegger uses these Latin‑based words
(patriotisch and nationalistisch) pejoratively, he demonstrates his unshak‑
able faith in “our language” and his fear and suspicion of, or contempt for,
all Latinate and Mediterranean forms. All pejoration in Heidegger, claims
Derrida, o ccurs in R oman, L atinate f orms; a ll a ffirmation a nd ce lebra‑
tion o ccur in G ermanic forms, especially archaic G erman forms. Even if
he c laims t o b e s peaking in t erms o f t he hi story o f b eing, a hi story a nd
a b eing t hat en compass a ll, o r a t le ast e verything a nd e veryone t hat i s
of t he L and o f E vening, H eidegger w ill a lways a nd e verywhere iden tify
inadequate m odes o f di scourse a nd t hought a s L atinate. On e m ust s ay,
although D errida do es n ot do s o h ere, t hat t his i s m ore t rue in 1953
than in 1928: a t t he v ery t ime (a fter World War II) w hen o ne exp ects
and w ishes t hat H eidegger w ill b ecome m ore o pen t o t he “ foreign,” hi s
reversion to Germanic forms intensifies.11
But t o co ntinue w ith D errida’s acco unt. H eidegger r ejects, a s do es
Hölderlin, den Egoismus des Volkes—the “egoism” once again in Latin.
Also in t he case of Trakl, says Heidegger, it is always a matter of the Land
of E vening, das Abendland, a nd n ot o f t he O ccident, n ot o f t he regio or
the régionale, n ever a nything L atin b ut a lways a nd e verywhere t he O ld
and M iddle High G erman (4). L ikewise, t he L evant i s n ever relevant for
Heidegger’s t hinking. U nlike H ölderlin, f or w hom a n “ Orientalizing” o f
the G reek i s a bsolutely es sential, H eidegger n ever r efers t o l’Orient, b ut,
with t he p ossible ex ception o f “ ἀ e A naximander F ragment,” a lways t o
dem Abendland, what o thers mig ht c all le Couchant. (ἀ e v ery t hought
of Heidegger referring to the le Couchant is enough to make us smile—it
is a s t hough o ne w ere co nfusing H eidegger w ith L acan.) ἀ us i t i s t hat
Heidegger r everts t o t he di scourse o f Fic hte, w hich D errida co nsidered
in s ome detail in Geschlecht II, for w hich “German” means “human,” but
only if “human” be uttered as Menschheit or das Menschengeschlecht.
ἀi s inflation o f t he G erman l anguage in t he dir ection o f h uman‑
kind a s a w hole, a s w e h ave s een, i s n ot a ltogether f oreign t o H usserl’s
11. I recall one of the principal interpreters of Heidegger’s thought in Germany telling me—many
years a go n ow—with en thusiastic a pprobation h ow H eidegger’s l ater t hinking exp unges a ll t he
Latinate exp ressions t hat w e find in Being and Time, evidence t hat H eidegger’s t hinking wa s
becoming m ore a nd m ore hi s o wn, r ejecting t he f oreign influences o f m etaphysics a nd e ven
phenomenology. ἀi s was t he s ame conversation in w hich t hat interpreter, referring to t he e di‑
tion o f N ietzsche’s w orks b eing p repared a t t hat t ime b y G iorgio C olli and M azzino Montinari
in W eimar, w ondered a loud w hat t hose “ damned I talians” w ere do ing t o N ietzsche’s t ext. I
shuddered as I left his office.
gesture in t he Crisis of the European Sciences. G ermany and t he Western

world as such take themselves to mean and to be humanity (5). S imilarly,
for Heidegger, t hinking pursues t he hi story of b eing, hi story un derstood
as Geschichte, quite b eyond t he r epresentational Historie t hat s uperfi‑
cially r ecounts t ales o f va rious w orld r egions t hrough t ime. ἀ us H ei‑
degger r ejects t he “cosmopolitanism” o f eig hteenth‑century figures s uch
as G oethe. ἀ at i s w hy H ölderlin’s r elation t o t he G reeks s urpasses t hat
of G oethe a nd W inckelmann, a nd i s p utatively in dir ect t ouch w ith t he
matutinal event of Greek thinking. Heidegger adds a remark to his “Letter
on H umanism” t o t he effect t hat t he “ young G ermans” d uring t he wa r
who “knew of Hölderlin” faced death differently than the way prescribed
by t he p ublic s phere o f “ German o pinion,” m eaning c learly t hat o f t he
ἀir d R eich. D errida add s t he sim ple s elf‑instruction: Commenter. His
commentary w ould cer tainly h ave de veloped t he do uble e dge o f H ei‑
degger’s claim: one resists the official “German opinion” only by achieving
a s till m ore G erman un derstanding o f lif e a nd de ath, a n un derstanding
for which Hölderlin, he who reverts to the presumptive fatherland, is the
principal architect, not to say Bauleiter.
Derrida now returns to the question of Abgeschiedenheit, “apartness”
or “departedness,” a s t he place of Trakl’s p oem. ἀ e word i s t ranslated by
the French edition of Heidegger’s text as le Dis‑cès. Not decease or death is
the desired sense, but departure (7). ἀ e Ort is therefore not a stable place,
but a departing, a going down, a being under way. ἀ e double sense of the
word partage fits h ere, in asmuch a s i t desig nates b oth a s haring in a nd a
departing from. ἀ e third and final part of Heidegger’s essay has to do with
the Ortschaft of this Ort, and it reflects this sense of partage. ἀe Ort is the
pays of promise. Promise, Versprechen, accompanies this Ortschaft, at least
in t he p erformative if n ot co nstative e vidence o f H eidegger’s t ext. “ Our
language,” unsere Sprache, calls this “place” in w hich we “dwell” (Wohnen)
das Land (8). B ut i t i s t he l and a t e ventide, das Abend‑Land. H eidegger
makes n o r eference t o e ventide in o ther l anguages a nd idio ms, t o le soir,
la sera, la tarde—the last stemming from tard, “late,” from the Sanskrit sr,
meaning aller, suivre, se suivre, which w ould co nform p erfectly t o w hat
Heidegger him self s ays o f Trakl’s “spiriting y ear.” Nevertheless, Heidegger
makes no reference to t hese Ga llo‑Latinate roots, e ven t hough his e duca‑
tion equipped him for such references, at least in the Latin. Heidegger is
said to have admired the French word garde, garder, but that, says Derrida,
is probably because it comes from the German warten, related to wahr.
If I m ay in sert a r emark. It i s n ot a s t hough D errida i s “hurt” t hat
Heidegger ignores the French language or any other Latinate tongue, nor
“irate” t hat H eidegger s eems t o des pise t he m agnificent M editerranean,

apparently unaware that the Aegean is a corner of it. It is more a kind of
astonishment t hat Heidegger c an b e s o in sensitive t o w ords a nd p hrases
that w ould w ork s o w ell f or w hat h e i s t rying t o t hink. ἀ at i s, if t he
entire family of Sanskrit languages were drawn into his ken—to say noth‑
ing o f l anguages fa rther e ast a nd s outh, o r fa rther w est a nd s outh—this
could only enrich, not vulgarize, the matter of his thinking. And it might
prevent, or at least minimize, the danger of a certain naive assurance con‑
cerning what is one’s own and what is foreign. For it often seems that even
though H eidegger r eads a nd in terprets H ölderlin’s let ter t o B öhlendorff
he is utterly unable to make Hölderlin’s devotion to t he foreign a part of
his life. For Derrida himself, having arrived in Europe from another cape,
another co ntinent, de voted a s h e n onetheless i s t o t he F rench l anguage
almost to the point of monolinguism, the world of languages is larger and
more f ull of surprises, good surprises, t han it c an e ver b e for Heidegger.
Ultimately, Heidegger’s limitation is not offensive, but baffling. And sad.
ἀ e Evening Land is to be thought in terms of a new beginning, a
promise, e ven t hough H eidegger h ere o ffers v ery li ttle det ail a bout t his
Versprechen (11–12). R ather, promise works as a p erformative in hi s dis‑
course, and is related to many words that do p opulate his discourse: Ruf,
Entscheidung, Verheissen, and so on, “the call,” “decision,” a “pledging” and
a “calling” t hat a re v ery m uch a p romising. ἀ ere i s s urely a s ense o f le
don in t he Es gibt (w hich D errida do es n ot m ention h ere, b ut o n w hich
he has commented extensively elsewhere) and in t he Schickung des Seins,
das Gewähren von Zeit und Sein, das Ereignis, a nd s o o n, “ the s ending
of b eing,” “ the g ranting o f t ime a nd b eing,” a nd “ the p ropriative e vent.”
Such do nation, D errida o bserves, o ften h as t o do w ith t he di scourse o f
the hand in H eidegger. As we s aw in c hapter 2, p romise lies in t he hand
of Heidegger, as it were, especially in t he book Was heisst Denken? ἀ ere
the di scourse o f heissen an d Verheissung i s o mnipresent. I n t he s econd
Trakl essay, “Die Sprache im Gedicht,” the Abendland is said to be “earlier,”
more matutinal, richer in future, and as such “more promising,” versprech
ender, than o ur co rrupt p resent—in o ther w ords, “closer t o t he m orning
to co me, b ecause o lder t han t he o ld m orning,” “plus près du matin à
venir parce que plus vieux du matin ancien,” m eaning b y t he l atter t he
old “Platonic‑Christian” morning (13). I s t his a c ycle, asks D errida, or is
the c yclical a bsent f rom H eidegger? “ I do n ot t hink i t i s a bsent,” r eplies
Derrida, a nd t hen, a s a n ote t o s elf: “Dessiner cercle au tableau?” On e
must w onder w hat t he et ernal return of t he s ame, reinterpreted t hrough
the eyes of Heidegger’s Trakl, would have looked like as a di agram on the
board! At all events, the Abendland is also Anbeginn, “commencement,” so

that if t here i s cir cularity in H eidegger’s t hinking o f hi story i t i s n ot t he
eternal r eturn o f t he s ame in a ny o f i ts u sual interpretations. It i s rather
the hoped‑for return of what was—somewhere, somehow, perhaps among
the oldest s ages of Greece—reserved for t he West, vorbehalten, promised
but never achieved, never received, never carried to full term, never ausge‑
tragen. ἀ us the apparent paradox of the placement (Erörterung) as both a
gathered sameness and a dep arture, both a co nvocation and a s eparation.
Derrida does not hesitate to say (and, as we have seen, he will elabo‑
rate on this at the end of De l’esprit) that both Christians and Jews might
well b e h appy t o l atch o nto t his m oment o f H eidegger’s t hinking a s t he
affirmation o f s ome s ort o f “messianism” o r e ven es chatology—the West
in t ransition t o i ts m atutinal es sence. H owever, D errida co ncludes t his
session in stead w ith a r eference t o t he Übergang t hat i s r epresented b y
Nietzsche’s Übermensch, which Heidegger himself cites in What Is Called
Thinking? It is the transition that promises a humankind that is no longer
captivated by t he “grasp” of reason—the Ver‑nehmen of Vernunft—which
still, as H eidegger says, thinks humanity on the basis of bestiality. One
notes t hroughout D errida’s 1984–85 co urse a nticipations o f the “thread”
that in the 1987 Of Spirit he will call “the essence of animality.” It will
never b e a bsent f rom hi s t hought a fter t hat, a ll t he wa y u p t o hi s v ery
last seminar in 2002–03. A nd, as he would insist, it will never have been
absent even before that.
Perhaps this is the right moment to take up once again the promise
of the “more gentle twofold,” not as Heidegger envisages it, but as Derrida
himself dreams of it. For it is clear that the entire Geschlecht series is mag‑
netized by such a p romise—the promise of a radic ally different s exuality
for t he f uture of humankind. It i s n ot t oo much t o s ay t hat if H eidegger
were n ot p romising s uch a t hing, o r a t le ast n ot dr eaming o f s uch a
promise, Derrida would not be reading Heidegger’s 1953 Trakl essay with
such f ervor. A lthough D errida i s r eluctant t o s peak h ere o f t he p romise
as he himself sees it, focused as he is on Heidegger, he is eloquent about
it in his co rrespondence with C hristie V. M acDonald, w hich we ci ted
much e arlier, b ack in c hapter 1. D errida co ncludes t hat co rrespondence
by r eferring t o t he p ossibility o f a lo ving r elation t hat i s n ot m arked b y
the codes of traditional gender and sexual discriminations. He asks:
Would it be a relation, then, that is not asexual—very far from

it—but i s o therwise s exualized, b eyond t he b inary difference
that g overns t he de corum o f a ll co des, a r elation b eyond t he
opposition f eminine/masculine a nd t herefore a lso b eyond

bisexuality, b eyond h omosexuality o r h eterosexuality, w hich
come t o t he s ame? B ecause I dr eam o f r escuing a t le ast t he
chance t o p ose s uch a q uestion, I wa nt t o b elieve in t he
multiplicity o f s exually m arked v oices, in a n in determinable
number o f in terwoven v oices, in t he m obility o f uniden tified
sexual m arks w hose c horeography c an le ad t he b ody o f e ach
“individual,” t raversing i t, di viding i t, m ultiplying i t, w hether
that b ody i s c lassed a s “ man” o r “ woman” acco rding t o t he
criteria o f u sage. S urely i t i s n ot im possible t hat t his desir e
for a n inn umerable s exuality m ay co me t o p rotect u s, li ke
a dr eam, a gainst a n im placable des tiny t hat imm ures u s a ll
in p erpetuity w ithin t he n umber 2. A nd s hould s uch p itiless
closure, fight against it as we may, arrest our desire and pin us
against t he wa ll of opposition, in sisting t hat t here w ill a lways
be only two sexes, neither one more nor one less, the tragedy
would b e our de veloping a t aste for t his opposition, w hich at
bottom is altogether contingent; the tragedy would be that we
might be forced to affirm and love the contingency, instead of
dreaming of the innumerable. Yes, perhaps; why not? Whence
the “dream” of the innumerable, if i t is a dr eam? Does not the
dream, a ll by itself, demonstrate t hat of w hich it is dreaming,
that which is there precisely in o rder to make us dream? And
so, I a sk y ou, w hat w ould b e t he d ance? Would t here b e a ny
dance at all if o ne didn’t exchange the sexes for an indetermi‑
nate n umber, a nd if o ne didn’t ex change t he l aw o f t he s exes
for many variable rhythms? In a quite rigorous sense, the word
exchange c learly w ill n ot s uffice, h owever, b ecause t he desir e
remains o ne o f es caping f rom t he sin gle co mbinatory a nd
inventing incalculable choreographies.12
During the questioning period that followed his presentation at the

University of E ssex in M ay 1986 D errida was asked w hether, concerning
a particular point under discussion, he wasn’t “dreaming.” He replied, his
voice rising in a fit of humorous passion, “Of course I’m dreaming—one
12. See Points of Suspension, 114–15. ἀ e p assage i s t erribly difficult t o t ranslate. I a m g rateful
for Christie V. MacDonald’s translation, which here and there I have altered, however. My thanks
too to Michael Naas for his assistance.
has to dream, you can’t stop dreaming!” He took a b reath or two and his
voice lo wered t o a m ore s ubdued t one, n ot j aded b ut w ise t o t he w orld:
“But I t ry not to dream all the time.” We return now from dreams to the
phantom of the other.
In session twelve of “ἀ e Phantom of the Other,” Derrida once again
focuses o n t he em phatic o r s paced‑type ( gesperrt gedruckt) p hrase E i n
Geschlecht a nd t o t he os tensibly do uble Schlag of Geschlecht. H e finds
Heidegger’s ex ceedingly s parse q uotation f rom Trakl’s “Abendländisches
Lied” highly problematic, and he objects to Heidegger’s “audacious” inter‑
pretation o f t he p unctuation in t he p oem. ἀ ese w ould b e in stances in
which H eidegger’s “ commentary” o n a p articular p oem i s di storted b y
his co nfidence in a “ placement.” H eidegger em phasizes t he im portance
of t wo a ppearances o f a co lon in T rakl’s p oem. ἀ e first lin e, in w hich
both “ soul” a nd “ blow” o r “ stroke” a ppear, r eads, O der Seele nächtlich
er Flügelschlag: (“Oh, the soul’s nocturnal wing beat:”). Heidegger says
that what follows this colon (Doppelpunkt, deux points), which is to say
all t he r est o f t he t wenty‑two‑line p oem, i s a n exp lication o f t he co lon
itself—its “wingstroke,” as it were. Twenty‑one lines of poetry follow, full
of punctuation, commas, semicolons, and periods, but Heidegger ignores
them all. ἀ en, in the antepenultimate line of the poem, the second colon
appears, and after it, in t he penultimate line: E i n Geschlecht. ἀi s is the
one that has gathered Heidegger’s interpretation from the outset, and the
Geschlecht that h as g ripped D errida f or a de cade. D errida g ives him self
instructions to use the blackboard:
Tableau[:]
O der Seele nächtlicher Flügelschlag:
20 vers
.......................................... :
E i n Geschlecht...........
ἀ e generous spacing between the lines indicates how parsimonious Hei‑

degger h as b een w ith hi s q uotation. M ore di sconcerting s till i s t he fac t
that Heidegger a lso neglects to ci te t he line that p recedes the second
colon, w hereas D errida t akes p ains t o p resent i t: “Aber strahlend heben
die silbernen Lider die Liebenden: . . .” (In an alternative translation to the
one I v entured e arlier, “ But radi antly t he lo vers ra ise t heir si lvery e ye‑
lids:  .  .  .”). ἀi s reference to the lovers would of course b e cr ucial for the
ways in w hich t he first w ords o f t he n ext lin e, “ E i n Geschlecht,” w ould
be h eard, cr ucial f or w hether o ne h ears Geschlecht as g eneration, t ribe,
lineage, sex, the “house” of brother and sister, the embrace of lovers, and so
on. To emphasize the colon and yet to ignore the embrace of lovers, whose
wing b eat ( Doppelpunkt, deux points) le ads dir ectly t o t he unif ying On e,
“lovers: / One . . . ,” seems a b izarre way to “comment” on the poem. ἀ e
E i n is betont, Heidegger says, and that means not merely emphasized but
“intoned,” “sung,” as Heidegger says all poetry must be. ἀi s one is the
Grundton o f Trakl’s p oetry. Yet H eidegger do es n ot say exac tly t hat. H e
says: “Es ist, soweit ich sehe, das einzige gesperrt geschriebene Wort in den
Dichtungen Trakls.” “It is, as far as I c an see, the only word in t he poems
of Trakl that is written in spaced type.” Spacing is therefore of the essence.
For hi s p art, D errida m akes n o r eference h ere t o t he s pace o f w riting
or t o s pacing a s s uch. Yet h e n otes t he wa y H eidegger le aps f rom co lon
to co lon, s kipping n ot o nly t wenty lin es o f v erse b ut a lso t he v ery w ord
to w hich t he s econd co lon i s a ttached, a nd h e co mments, ra ther dr yly:
“ἀ at may appear to b e exorbitant, li ke a le ap of t he e ye ( Blicksprung), a
leap o f in terpretation w ith o ne s troke o f t he w ing. ἀ ese a re im pressive
strokes of wing and eye.” (“Cela peut paraître exorbitant, comme coup d’oeil
(Blicksprung), comme saut d’interprétation d’un coup d’aile. Il y a là un coup
d’aile et un coup d’oeil impressionants” (4). ἀ us, the word Schlag continues
to operate in Heidegger’s discourse with regard to both Geschlecht as such
and its “situation” in Trakl’s poetry—or, better, in Heidegger’s own “place‑
ment” of it. A placement from which the lovers are absent.
Why a re t hey a bsent? A re t hey a bsent b ecause t hey represent t he
innocents of the first stroke, or are they the quarrelsome pair of the second
stroke? Or a re t hey in deed t he v ictims o f t he m alignant “ third” s troke,
none o f w hich H eidegger e ver defines o r det ermines a s s uch? D errida
does n ot p ose t hese q uestions in t he m anner I h ave a sked t hem h ere.
Yet hi s b itingly cr itical r eading o f H eidegger’s in terpretation o f T rakl’s
“Western Song” invites them.
Heidegger also uses the word bergen, to safeguard and conceal, in
order to say that the tonic of Trakl’s poem is hidden a nd inaudible in t his
spacing of the E i n. Das Gedicht schweigt, and so remains secretive. Der‑
rida’s text (5), f or its p art, interweaves G erman and French constantly in
order t o s how t he un translatable, idio matic c haracter o f b oth l anguages,
and t he “ spacing” t hat i s in volved in t he w riting o f e ach. “Die Einheit
des einen Geschlechtes entquillt dem Schlag . . .” Derrida comments: “donc
ce coup qui rassemble (versammelt) le Zwietracht der Geschlechter, la dis‑
sension des sexes ou des genres, simplement, de façon simple (einfältig)
dans le tendre, le plus tendre (sanftere) Zwiefalt.’ ” If o ne i s p ermitted t o
put Derrida’s French into some kind of English (although that would
be m erely t o r e‑mark t he s paces b etween t he G erman a nd F rench), o ne

might s ay: “ ἀ us t he s troke t hat gathers ( versammelt) t he Zwietracht der
Geschlechter [the di scord o f t he s exes], the di ssension o f t he s exes o r
genders, do es s o sim ply, in a sim ple fa shion ( einfältig), in to t he t ender,
more t ender ( sanftere) Zwiefalt.” Perhaps i t i s t ime t o n ote t hat i t i s t his
“simple fashion,” this ostensible onefold of simplicity, that Derrida resists
from t he v ery b eginning o f hi s r esearch a nd w riting. I n t he p ublication
notice t o hi s e dition o f H usserl’s Origin of Geometry, Derrida in dicates
the problem t hat he has w ith t he “origin” and “the simple.” He speaks of
“an o riginary co mplication o f t he o rigin, a n ini tial co ntamination o f t he
simple” (B P 93). W hen H eidegger en visages a m ore g entle simplicity for
the twofold of the sexes, the gesture can only disquiet Derrida, now as
then. He continues for the next several pages of his lecture notes to read
Heidegger’s t ext q uite c losely, in terweaving t he G erman a nd t he F rench,
now f ocusing o n t he Schlag as coup or frappe, a s s troke o r b low, b ut
also a s co inage a nd lin eage, souche (in t he s ense o f a g enealogical lin e),
which i s t he w ord t hat t he F rench t ranslation a lways p refers—in o rder
thus to obfuscate the reference to sexuality. Even in France, or especially
in France, one w ill h ave wanted a ll a long to s ay t hat, n o, Heidegger s ays
really nothing about sexuality.
Le co up, o u l a s ouche, der S chlag es t do nc ce q ui ra ssemble

(et donc constitue le lieu), q ui rassemble simplement, d ans la
simplicité (einfältig), la dissension (la dualité agonistique) dans
la dualité douce et tendre. Le coup rassemble le Zwietracht en
Zwiefalt. Il es t do nc le co up, i l f rappe en tre deux f ois deux,
deux d ualités o u différences d u G eschlecht (deux différences
sexuelles, m ais n on s eulement s exuelles et l a sig nification de
sexualité es t ici en veloppée d ans l a p olysémie d u G eschlecht.
C’est p eut‑être q uand e lle s’en s épare et s e dét ermine co mme
seulement sexuelle que le Zwietracht apparaît, et l a guerre des
sexes. C’est cette simplicité et cette douceur de la différence qui
s’annonce comme le f utur ou le t rès ancien d ans le dép art ou
le di s‑cès, par de là l ’occident p latonico‑chrétien. C ette do uce
différence, en t ant qu’elle tient à un co up, ou aussi bien à un e
souche en tant qu’elle est un empreinte. Cette empreinte frappe
le un—l’unité du un dans les deux—et l’on va voir que le un ne
s’oppose p as au deux, à v rai dir e n e s’en di stingue m ême p as.
On doit dire aussi, bien que ce n e s oit p as le p ropos explicite
de H., que cette frappe de l’un dans le Geschlecht est aussi la
frappe du mot qui rassemble dans l’un et d ans l’unité rassem‑

blante d u m ot G eschlecht cet te m ultiplicité de sig nifications,
dont t ous les co ups v iennent en un e s eule m arque, un s eul
mot, m ot q ui di t a ussi le ra ssemblement (G e-) s celler leur
consonnance. (6)
ἀ e s troke o r lin eage, der Schlag, is t hus t hat w hich ga thers

(and t herefore co nstitutes t he p lace). I t ga thers sim ply, in to
simplicity (einfältig), the dissension (the agonistic duality) into
the gentle and tender duality. ἀ e stroke gathers the Zwietracht
into a Zwiefalt. It i s t hus t he s troke t hat b eats t wo t imes two,
two d ualities o r differences o f Geschlecht, two s exual differ‑
ences, albeit not only sexual, and the signification of sexuality
is enveloped h ere in t he p olysemy of Geschlecht. It i s p erhaps
when the sexual sense separates itself and determines itself as
only s exual t hat di scord a ppears, di scord a nd t he wa r o f t he
sexes. It i s t he simplicity a nd t he t enderness of t he difference
that i s a nnounced a s t he f uture o f w hat i s v ery o ld in t he
departure or the dis‑cès, moving beyond the Platonic‑Christian
Occident. ἀi s g entle difference, in sofar a s i t i s t ied u p w ith
a stroke, and also because it is bound up with a lin eage, is an
imprint. ἀi s imprint coins the one—the unity of the one into
the two—and we come to see t hat t he one is n ot opposed to
two, a nd, t ruth t o t ell, c annot e ven b e di stinguished f rom i t.
One may also say, although t his i s not what Heidegger has
explicitly in mind, that this stroke of one within the Geschlecht
also coins t he w ord t hat gathers into one, into t he v ery gath‑
ering uni ty o f t he w ord Geschlecht, its multiple sig nifications,
from w hich, in o ne sin gle m ark, a ll t he s trokes co me, o ne
single word, a w ord w hich itself s ays gathering ( Ge-), sig ning
and sealing their consonance.
ἀ e “one” o f t he “onefold” o r t he “ simplicity” o f t he m ore t ender

twofold i s o f co urse n ot m eant a rithmetically, a nd i t h as n othing t o do
with Vorhandenheit o r o bjective, r epresentational t hinking. I t i s n ot a
question o f uni sex o r o f vu lgar, cra ss in difference, n or o f a ndrogyny o r
hermaphroditism. Heidegger is pointing toward an altogether other expe‑
rience o f s exual difference; a s t he v ery first o f hi s “Geschlecht” a rticles
shows, Derrida takes Heidegger’s effort in this respect quite seriously.
Even if t he phantasmatic should abound here, Heidegger’s effort is none‑
theless im pressive. I ndeed, i t i s idio matic, a singulare tantum, one o f a

kind, as the gathering prefix Ge-, unique to the German, indicates. Here,
as everywhere, Derrida therefore takes some pains to correct the French
translation:
Dans le t on m arqué (b etonten) de u n Geschlecht s e c ache

(verbirgt sic h) cet uni ssant (j enes Ein ende: et n on p as cet te
unité, co mme di t l a t raduction) q ui uni t o u r éunit (einigt) à
partir de l’azur rassemblant (et non “appareillant”) de la nuit
spirituelle.” “Le mot (ici toute l’expression Ein Geschlecht) parle à
partir du chant (donc de l’intonation marquée, de l’accentuation:
accent c’est le c hant dans la parole) dans lequel le p ays du soir
est chanté (worin das Land des Abends gesungen wird).” (7)
In t he em phatic t one ( betonten) o f o n e Geschlecht there lies

concealed (verbirgt sich) this unifying (jenes Einende, not “this
unity,” as the translation says), which unites or reunites (einigt)
on the basis of the gathering (and not “preparatory”) azure of
the spiriting night. “ἀ e word (here meaning the entire phrase
O n e Geschlecht) s peaks o n t he b asis o f t he s ong [h ence in
the emphatic intonation of accentuation: accent is the song in
speech] in w hich t he e vening l and i s s ung [ worin das Land
des Abends gesungen wird].” (US 78)
What s trikes D errida t hroughout i s t he sin gularity o f H eidegger’s

gesture, the singularity of gathering, even if t here is more than one stroke
in question, t hat is, e ven if i t is a lways and e verywhere a q uestion of t he
twofold:
Il faut bien insister sur la singularité du geste et de ce Ein. C ’est

que l’unissant qui tient à la singularité de ce coup, Schlag, ou de
cette frappe, cet unissant donne lieu à une simplicité qui n’est pas
autre chose que la duplicité ou à un e duplicité simple. Il n’y a
plus, ou plutôt il n’y avait pas et i l n’y aura pas, il n’aura pas eu
d’opposition entre le Zwiefalt et le Einfalt quand le mouvement
sera allé a u b out de sa course, au bout de la nuit spirituelle.
Dans le paragraphe précédent, einfältig (simplement, selon un
seul pli) était un ad verbe. Dans le p aragraphe suivant c’est un
nom. D ans le p aragraphe précédent, le co up ra ssemble, di sait
H., la dissension (Zwietracht) des sexes simplement (ein-fältig)
dans la dualité (Zwiefalt; le do uble pli) plus doux, plus serein.

Dans le p aragraphe s uivant, “le co up,” di t H., der S chlag q ui
s’imprime (der sie prägt) dans la simplicité de “Ein Geschlecht”
(in die Einfalt des “Einen Geschlechts,” etc.
Que fait donc ce co up, cette f rappe? D er S chlag s chlägt,
cette frappe frappe, dit H., et ce q ui ressemble, selon un g este
justement t ypique de H., à un e t autologie sig nifie aussi, p lus
profondément, que nous avons là affaire à la signification de ce
qui ne peut pas laisser place à un métalangage, qui ne peut pas
se laisser définir par autre chose que soi sauf à avoir introduit
la signification à définir dans la définition définissante. Toute
prédication au sujet de S chlag suppose quelque Schlagen, doit
être frappée, imprimée, suppose le coup, comme toute définition
de l a S prache s uppose a ssez le l angage p our q u’on n e p uisse
dire l a l angue es t o u fa it ce ci o u ce la, p uisque ces va leurs
d’être et de fa ire s ont in adéquates en ce q u’elles p résupposent
la Sprache: il faut donc dire die Sprache spricht, d as Er eignis
ereignet, der S chlag schlägt. Ces significations ne peuvent pas
être dérivées. Mais comment la frappe frappe‑elle? (8)
One must insist on the singularity of the gesture and of this One.
ἀ e unifying that holds to the singularity of this stroke or Schlag,
this blow, gives place to a simplicity which is nothing other than
duplicity, o r a sim ple d uplicity. ἀ ere i s n o lo nger—or, ra ther,
there never was and never will be, there will not have been—any
opposition between the Zwiefalt and the Einfalt, once the move‑
ment will have r un its course, at the end of the spiriting night.
In the preceding paragraph einfältig (simply, in accord with one
fold) wa s a n ad verb. I n t he f ollowing p aragraph i t i s a n oun.
In t he p receding p aragraph t he s troke ga thers, s ays Heidegger,
the di ssension ( Zwietracht) o f t he s exes sim ply ( einfältig) in to
the d uality ( Zwiefalt, the do uble f old), w hich i s g entle, m ore
serene. In the following paragraph, “the stroke,” says Heidegger,
the Schlag that coins it (der sie prägt) in the simplicity of o n
e Geschlecht (in the onefold of the “E i n e n Geschlechts”), etc.
So, what does this stroke, this blow, do? Der Schlag schlägt,
the stroke strikes, says Heidegger, and what resembles a tautol‑
ogy, in acco rd w ith a g esture a bsolutely t ypical o f H eidegger,
also signifies at a more profound level, since here it is a matter
of a sig nification of w hat c annot g ive way to a m etalanguage,
cannot be defined by anything other than itself, that is, except

by introducing the signification to be defined into the definition
that defines it. Every predication on the subject of Schlag pre‑
supposes some sort of striking, has to be coined or imprinted,
and t hus presupposes t he stroke, j ust as e very definition of
language presupposes the language by which one can say that
language is or does this or that, because these values of being
or do ing a re in adequate in sofar a s t hey p resuppose l anguage:
thus o ne h as t o s ay t hat l anguage s peaks, die Sprache spricht,
the e vent e ventuates, das Ereignis ereignet, the s troke s trikes,
der Schlag schlägt. Such sig nifications c annot b e der ived. Yet
how does the stroke strike?
One h ears t he s trange e cho o f C éline in t he p hrase au bout de la

nuit spirituelle, and yet everything about the spiriting night i s strange, s o
strange t hat i ts l anguage b ecomes a r eiteration o f t he s ame, p ure t autol‑
ogy. H ow do es t he s troke s trike? D errida p oses t hree r esponses t o t his
question (9–10).
First, the frappe does not close or seal anything off; rather it opens,
by wa y o f frayage, “ effraction” r eminding u s h ere o f D errida’s e arly y et
decisive es say, “ Freud a nd t he S cene o f Writing.” ἀ e s troke lässt einen
Weg einschlagen. ἀ e idio m i s un translatable in to F rench. I n En glish w e
would s ay, h oping t o a void t he b aseball idio m, t he s troke lets u s s trike
out on a new path.
Second, even though the path opens up a future, it remains essen‑
tially t he r eturn t o a n “early” t ime, a d awn o r a k ind o f p re‑dawn, p rior
at least to the antiquity of Platonic Christianity. Derrida chooses the word
la veille, nightwatch, t o c apture t he s ense o f t his gu arding o r wa tching
over t he a rrival o f t he m ore m atutinal co mmencement. A nd t he ide a o f
gathering, o f t he s troke t hat ga thers a ll di scord in to t ender d uality a nd
gentle simplicity, i s a lso a r eturn t o c hildhood, a m ore t ender c hildhood
that i s b oth m ore a ncient a nd y ounger (10). ἀ e s troke “ brings u s b ack
to the more serene childhood,” zurückbringt in die stillere Kindheit.
ἀir d, the return enables us to see the relation of the present seminar,
“Le fantôme de l’autre,” to the generic topic of the entire series, “Nation‑
alité et n ationalisme philosophiques.” For the decomposing race i s caught
in the bootless alternative of nationalism and cosmopolitanism. Heidegger
insists, in s pite o f e very p recaution h e t akes co ncerning c hauvinism, o n
some sort of return to a Heimat, a homeland that was promised but never
delivered, never securely sent. Every nationalism, Derrida ventures to say,
places a hig h va lue o n t he t heme o f r eturn. ἀ e a ppeals t o r ebirth, t o a

new voyage, a novel ad venture, a lso pertain t o t he n ationalist’s r hetoric.
Even s omething li ke “colonial exp ansion” i s p resent in t his p roblematic
relation t o a patrie or Vaterland that h as a lways di sappointed u s, t o s ay
the le ast, but t hat h olds s o much (fa lse) promise. My h omeland w ill r ise
again! cr ies t he n ationalist. D errida r ealizes t hat H eidegger w ould cr y
“foul!” at this analysis, but he persists.
Yet if he has ventured too far on the critical side, Derrida now works
on the more generous side of deconstruction’s double reading (11–12). He
asks whether t here is not in deed something altogether idiomatic a bout
Heidegger’s “conversation” w ith Trakl, idio matic in a s ense t hat r equires
respect. Where else could one find this manner of proceeding in thinking’s
involvement w ith p oetry, w ith t he t hinker en gaging in s uch a n in tense
Zwiegespräch w ith p oetry? N ot in G reece, n or in R ome, n ot in En gland
or A merica. A nd if s uch a di alogue h appens t oday in t he F rench l an‑
guage, one can be sure, says Derrida, that it is borrowing from Heidegger.
Perhaps s uch a di alogue i s n o lo nger p ossible in t oday’s G ermany—as
Hans‑Jürgen S yberberg w ould cer tainly a gree (r ecall hi s r emarks t oward
the en d o f t he o therwise unin teresting film Der Ister, t o t he effect t hat
no one today, including the filmmakers, can really understand what Hei‑
degger’s le ctures on p oetry, especially Hölderlin’s p oetry, were a ll about).
Yet i t r emains t rue t hat a co nversation in t he H eideggerian m anner i s
possible n owhere e lse, in n o o ther idio m. ἀ ere s eems t o b e s omething
like une certaine poéticité allemande, s ays D errida, in H eidegger’s “ situ‑
atings” o f H ölderlin a nd Trakl, s omething t hat i s t o b e f ound n owhere
else. Even as Derrida pushes the question of philosophical nationality and
nationalism he also asks:
Est‑il abusif de p rétendre que cette juste frappe, en t ant qu’elle

parle et a ppelle la douceur, a un ra pport essentiel avec la pos‑
sibilité de la langue, l’allemande, dans laquelle cela se dit; et donc
que le p ays d u s oir (q ui n’est p as l’Occident) et q ue c hante l a
poésie de T. a un ra pport essentiel avec cette Sprache; et do nc
que un e cer taine A llemagne—non p as l ’Allemagne n ationale
de fa it, et c. (v ous co nnaissez m aintenant t outes ces di stinc‑
tions) est le lieu de cet appel de l’Occident par delà l’Occident
européen métaphysico‑chrétien: l’Allemagne appelée autant que
lieu de l’appel? (14)
Is i t w rongheaded t o c laim t hat t his j ust s troke, in sofar a s i t

speaks o f a nd c alls f or g entleness, h as a n es sential ra pport
with t he p ossibility of t he l anguage, t he G erman l anguage, in

which it is said? And thus that this land of evening (which
is n ot t he O ccident) w hich t he p oesy o f T rakl sin gs h as a n
essential ra pport w ith t his Sprache? A nd t hus t hat a cer tain
Germany—not t he n ation G ermany a s i t exi sts in fac t, y ou
are b y n ow fa miliar w ith a ll t hese di stinctions—is t he p lace
of t his c all o f t he O ccident t hat lies b eyond t he E uropean
metaphyico‑Christian O ccident: a G ermany c alled f or ra ther
than the site of the call?
In s hort, H eidegger i s c alling for, rather t han to, a p ossibility t hat

remains G erman—even if t hat w ord c an o nly mi sspeak i tself. D errida
loves Paul de M an’s play on words, die Sprache verspricht (sich), language
promises—and y et in evitably mi sspeaks, m akes mi stakes, a nd mi stakes
itself. So it is when Heidegger or perhaps anyone says the name German.
Or t he n ame germain—recall D errida’s “ Envoi,” hi s addr ess in 1980 in
Strasbourg to the Societies for Philosophy in t he French Language. ἀ ere
the matters of idiom and of dissension are of equal importance, and it is
time to take a closer look at them.
Derrida j ustifies his f ocus o n H eidegger—which f rom a n en voy t o
the co mbined p hilosophical s ocieties f or p hilosophy in t he French lan‑
guage n eeds s ome j ustification—in t erms o f b oth t he m atter o f r epre‑
sentation (but as Heidegger’s vorstellendes Denken) and the all‑important
issue of Anwesenheit, “presence.” It is not enough, Derrida warns, to take
Heidegger’s em phasis o n “ presence” t o b e n ostalgia f or a G reek exp eri‑
ence that has gotten lost in m odern “representation.” “Anwesenheit is not
simple; i t i s a lready di vided a nd differentiated, m arking t he p lace o f a
scission, di vision, a nd di ssension ( Zwiespalt)” (P s 129). ἀ at l ast w ord
seems o dd. I n Geschlecht III, which w e a re n ow exa mining, i t i s m ost
often Zwietracht that i s t ranslated a s dissension, and y et a ll t he Zwie-
words, w ith t he s ole ex ceptions o f Zwiefalt and Zwiegespräch, appear a s
marks o f di scord in H eidegger’s t ext. F urthermore, Geschlecht III envis‑
ages—perhaps t hrough H eidegger’s e yes—the p ossibility o f a p redual
sexuality, w hich H eidegger him self desig nates a s “ unifold,” einfältig. ἀe
“fold,” however, is also present in the 1980 “Envoi”: “the fold of dissension
would open, announce, or envisage everything that in w hat is to come is
determined a s mimesis, imitation, representation, w ith t he entire cortege
of oppositional couples that will shape philosophical theory: production/
reproduction, p resentation/representation, o riginary/derived, a nd s o o n”
(ibid.). P erhaps i t i s t ime t o r ecall t hat t he p urpose o f t he Geschlecht
series is to contemplate sexual difference in terms of, or at least alongside,
ontological difference. Derrida is surely contemplating and deconstructing

the male‑female and e ven the brother‑sister relation as two among those
foundational oppositions in philosophy. A very Nietzschean position, one
will s ay, a nd r ightly s o. Yet D errida i s m ore p recise—and n o do ubt les s
ironic—about truth’s becoming a woman, albeit a woman who is excluded,
repressed, or oppressed throughout the epoch of metaphysics and morals.
Epochality, to be sure, is a word that sticks in Derrida’s throat; it is not a
word t hat f or him s’entend‑parler. What m ust b e t hought t hrough i s t he
idiom o f t he “sending,” das Geschick des Seins, which p resumably s ends
both t he p ossibility o f t hinking o riginary p resence a nd t he fa tal im bro‑
glio of representational thinking. Such vorstellendes Denken extends from
Descartes t hrough L acan, s ays D errida, e ven if i t h olds t he promise of a
certain remembrance of what the earliest Greek thinkers almost thought:
Even if t here is dissension (Zwiespalt) in w hat Heidegger calls

the g reat G reek ep och a nd in t he exp erience o f Anwesenheit,
this dissension is gathered in [ se rassemble dans] the λέγειν. It
is s afeguarded a nd p rotected, t hus a ssuring a s ort o f in divis‑
ibility of the destinal. It is in making foundational this gathered
indivisibility o f t he s ending [ de l’envoi] t hat t he Heideggerian
reading c an det ach t he ep ochs, in cluding t he m ost p owerful,
the lo ngest, a nd t he m ost d angerous o f a ll ep ochs, t hat o f
representation in modern times. (Ps 136)
As in a ll hi s e arlier m editations o n H eidegger, h owever, D errida co n‑

tests the gathering, the destinal, and the detachable, identifiable, and thus
“reduced” ep ochs. H e f ormulates hi s q uestion t o H eidegger in t he f ol‑
lowing way:
[E]verywhere w here t he s ending of b eing divides itself, defies

the λ έγειν, e ludes i ts des tination, i s i t n ot t he c ase t hat t he
Heideggerian s chematic i s co ntestable in p rinciple, hi stori‑
cally de constructed? de constructed in t he hi storicality t hat
it s till im plies? I f t here wa s r epresentation, i t i s p erhaps t he
case (a nd H eidegger w ould r ecognize t his) t hat p recisely t he
sending o f b eing wa s o riginally m enaced in t he t otality o f
its b eing [ originairement menacé en son être-ensemble], in i ts
Geschick, by di visibility o r di ssension (w hat I w ould c all dis‑
semination). (ibid.)
Such a t hreat o r m enace t o t he s ending o f b eing, a m enace t hat at

least p arallels t he m enace o f t he s econd Schlag, c an b e t hought in va ri‑
ous ways. Many years ago I p roffered the thesis, unanimously rejected by
everyone who knows anything about Heidegger, that being is fundamen‑
tally a g igolo, n ot s o much m enaced a s m enacing.13 My r easoning b ased
itself o n H eidegger’s in sistence t hat i t i s n ot “ we” w ho h ave f orgotten
being b ut b eing t hat h as f orgotten “ us”; b eing “ withdraws” in co nceal‑
ment a nd r eleases m ortals t o t he t insel o f b eings f or t he entire ep och o f
philosophy. W hich, a s w e r emember f rom Geschlecht IV, is a n ep och o f
mourning. B eing abandons beings, a nd es pecially t he b eing w ho o ught
to h ave b een in timate w ith i t, o ught t o h ave li ved in a n understanding
of i t. B eing, a g igolo? H eidegger i s n ot co mposing t he Don Giovanni of
metaphysics, my colleagues reprimanded me, and t hey were surely r ight.
Even so, in S pain alone, 1,003 m ortals have been abandoned by being.—
But let t hat p ass. L et u s a gree t hat t he ep ochal s ending o f b eing i tself i s
menaced. I n ei ther c ase, w hether m enaced o r m enacing, t he g leaning
and ga thering o f b eing in λ έγειν i s a nything b ut gu aranteed; in deed, w e
can scarcely represent to ourselves what Heraclitus mig ht have meant by
the word. We recall, as Heidegger certainly also does, that Heraclitus was
also f ond o f t he w ord δι αφερόµενον, p erhaps “differance.” N ear t he en d
of “Envoi,” D errida projects a “ difference” t hat would not b e “of b eing as
presencing”; it w ould n ot b e a “ self‑sending o f b eing.” R ather, h e s ays, i t
would disseminate multiple sendings, sendings of the other and of others,
des envois de l’autre, des autres (137). No doubt, s uch s endings would b e
phantasmatic—hence, p hantoms o f t he o ther. To w hich w e m ust r eturn,
in order to close.
Yet perhaps further reflection on dissémination, as opposed to Hei‑
deggerian p olysemy, o r Mehrdeutigkeit, is c alled f or h ere, p recisely w ith
regard to the eminent case of a t hinking of poetry in t erms of the “fold.”
13. ἀi s m ay h ave b een—I c an n o lo nger r emember; em barrassment in hibits m emory—in t he

paper c alled “ Spiriting H eidegger,” in t he v olume Of Derrida, Heidegger, and Spirit, edited b y
David Wood (Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 1993), 11–40. M y notes tell me that it is
a revised version of a paper that appeared originally in Research in Phenomenology XVIII (1988):
205–30. Or i t may have been in a p aper called “Of Spirit and the Daimon: Jacques Derrida’s De
l’esprit,” delivered at t he S ociety for Phenomenology and E xistential Philosophy, t hen published
in Ethics and Danger: Currents in Continental Thought, ed. Charles E. Scott and Arleen B. Dallery
(Albany: State University of New York Press, 1992), 59–70. Unfortunately, the word and the thing
called gigolo appears also in c hapter 6 o f Daimon Life, but in a n essay on “paranoetic thinking,”
which confuses Heidegger’s “abandonment by being” with President Schreber’s predicament.
For Heidegger, the fold, as the onefold twofold, the two folding back into
one, i s es sentially a bout ga thering, Sammlung, Versammlung. I n c hapter
2 w e n oted t he im portance o f t he “ fold,” le pli, for D errida a s w ell a s
for H eidegger, s uggesting t hat f or D errida t he f old i s never a ga thering.
Indeed, le pli is one of the principal terms of and for dissemination.
If w e lo ok b riefly a t “ ἀ e D ouble S éance,” D errida’s v ery difficult
text on Mallarmé, the figure of the fold joins that of other key words for
dissemination—blanc, voile, feuille, milieu, hymen, and so on. Derrida first
invokes t he w ord in o rder t o di scuss t he un decidability o f “appearance,”
which i s b oth Erscheinung and Schein, the t o‑appear o f b eings a nd t heir
mere appearance, that is, their dissemblance. ἀ e fold between these two
is in determinate o r in definite, son pli indéfini (D 239–40). S uch in defi‑
niteness a nd un decidability s ubvert p resence a nd t he t ruth o f p resence.
One may s ay t hat t his pli or Falt implies t he fault or default of presence.
In Mallarmé’s terms, the mimicr y of Pierrot can never b e expunged, and
every Einfalt, every f olding in to o ne, i s einfältig, simply sim plistic. ἀ e
entire corpus of Mallarmé, says Derrida, is enfolded within les plis d’un
tissu that c annot b e de coded (D 242). D errida exp ands t he les son a nd
argues t hat every t ext f olds b ack o n i tself, s’y plie, and t hus en gages a
“double s cene” (D 250). ἀ e a nalysis c ulminates in t he r emark t hat t he
fold multiplies itself into a manifold—better, a manifolding that Heidegger
would a ttribute t o a t ranscendental mig htiness o f es sence, D errida t o a
merely quasi‑transcendental trace of forces—and is therefore never at one
with itself: “Le pli (se) multiplie mais (n’est) pas (un)” (D 258–59). S uch a
multiplying o f f olds b ears w itness t o “the ex cess o f t he sig nifier,” a “ sur‑
plus,” “supplement,” a nd e ven a “ vicariance” at w ork in t he t ext (D 265).
Such m ultiplication, “sans fin des plies, replis, reploiment, pliage, éploie‑
ment, déploiement,” is unstoppable, so that “each determinate fold applies
itself t o co nfigure t he o ther [ se plie à figurer l’autre]  .  .  .  and to re‑mark
writing’s f olding u pon i tself ” (D 301). ἀ e f old h as n othing t o do w ith
philosophical reflexivity in t he s ense of a t hinking’s reflecting b ack upon
itself. I ndeed, s ays D errida, p hilosophical r eflection “ is m erely a n effect
of the fold as text” (D 302). I nasmuch as Heidegger eschews reflexivity of
the usual sorts, from Descartes to Hegel, one may hope that this folding
of the text has nothing to do w ith Heidegger’s “other thinking,” his “other
commencement.” Can the possibility of gathering be rescued, particularly
in the case of poetry, and above all in the case of Trakl’s poetry?
In t he p resent c ase, t hat o f H eidegger’s Trakl, t he “ fold” h as t o do
with a p articularly un canny effect o f t extuality. I t h as emin ently t o do
with sexual difference. During the t hirteenth and final s ession o f “ἀ e
Phantom o f t he O ther,” D errida r eturns t o t he t heme o f t he p ossibility

of la différence sexuelle sans pli (1). ἀ e speaker of English is perhaps
for t he first t ime s truck b y t his sans pli, which i s sim ply t he En glish
“sim‑ply,” and by the double effect of simplicity, the without‑fold: keep it
simple, y et do n ot b e sim plistic, do n ot b ecome a sim pleton. ἀ e s ame
double s troke, a s i t w ere, o ccurs w ith t he G erman w ord einfältig, which
nowadays, to repeat, has t he preeminent s ense of simplemindedness and
even silliness. In either case, the word Einfalt, “onefold,” “unifold,” is odd,
inasmuch a s t he o nefold s till h as a f old, a sin gle f old, t hat m akes o f t he
one t hing f olded a t wofold b y g ranting i t t wo “le aves” o r “ wings,” a s i t
were. I t i s a round t hese idio matic bisarreries, reminiscent o f M allarmé
but a lso o f e very p oetic t ext, in deed o f e very li terary t ext a nd p erhaps
every “commentary” a nd e very “ placement” o f s uch t exts, t hat D errida’s
seminar rotates.
Perhaps t here h as b een t oo m uch unfa miliar l anguage a t p lay in
Derrida’s seminar thus far. And perhaps this is always the case when one
is de aling w ith H eidegger’s di scussions o f p oetry. D errida im agines—or
perceives—that his students are fed up with all this Heidegger. It may be
that s ome g rumbles h ave r eached hi s e ars. Even t hough I h ave ci ted t he
words o f hi s def ense e lsewhere, in Derrida and Our Animal Others (AO
102–103), they a re w orth h earing a gain b ecause t hey di splay t he n ature
of Derrida’s dedication to Heidegger’s work. As I have also noted in Our
Animal Others, I a m n ot c lear a bout t he s ense o f t he w ord méfiance in
what follows:
J’imagine l’impatience de certains, non seulement devant la

lenteur a ppuyée de cet te le cture, m ais de vant le t emps de ce
séjour auprès de H. En core H.! E t ce r etour de H. et ce r etour
à H.! Est‑ce que cela ne suffit pas? Est‑ce encore actuel?
Ce qui m’intéresse aujourd’hui, c’est précisément le retour
de H. et le r etour à H. et c ’est l ui q ue j e v eux a ussi ét udier.
Le H. qui revient ou auquel on revient n’est pas le même que
celui qui en France fit son apparitions juste avant et juste après
la guerre, ni celui q ui réapparut encore dix ans a près, q uand
les p remières t raductions a bondantes et une n ouvelle le cture
de H usserl, et l ’éloignement de l a guer re o nt c hangé un p eu
l’espace de s a r éception, co mme o n di t. Et ce lui d’aujourd’hui
est en core a utre, l a q uestion p olitique q u’on l ui adr esse n ’est
plus l a m ême, le co rpus dont on di spose, m aintenant q ue s es
oeuvres complètes commencent à paraître (méfiance  .  .  .) et que
de nouvelles t raductions s ont à n otre disposition, ce co rpus a

une autre configuration, on entrevoit de nouveaux paysages.
Ce q ue j ’appellerai, s ans êt re s ûr de ces m ots, l a f orce,
la n écessité, m ais a ussi l ’art d ’une p ensée n e s e m esure p as à
la d urée et à l a p ermanence de s a p résence ra yonnante, e lle
ne s e m esure p as à l a fixité d’un é clat m ais au n ombre de s es
éclipses—et v ous v oyez q ue n ous co ntinuons, di sant ce la, à
parler dans le texte sur Trakl, qui est aussi un texte sur l’année
le j our et l a co urse d u s oleil. A près c haque é clipse q ue cet te
pensée es t c apable d ’endurer, e lle r éapparaît en core a utre a u
sortir du nuage, et le “même” texte, le même legs n’est plus le
même, il tourne sur lui‑même et surprend encore. Un penseur
qui n’accepte p as l a lo i de cet te é clipse et q ui n e c alcule p as
avec e lle n’est p as un p enseur, du m oins es t‑ce un calculateur
qui ne sait pas calculer avec le n on‑calcul qu’est le p lus grand
risque, celui de l ’éclipse s ans retour, celui de l ’Etranger absolu
qui ne revient pas. (2–3)
I imagine some of you are impatient not only with the insistent
slowness o f my r eading b ut a lso w ith t he a mount o f t ime w e
are t aking o n H eidegger in g eneral. W hat? H eidegger a gain?
Why t his r eturn o f H eidegger, a nd t his r eturn to Heidegger!
Haven’t we had enough? And is any of this relevant?
What in terests m e t oday i s p recisely t he r eturn o f H ei‑
degger and the return to Heidegger, and it is precisely this that
I wa nt t o s tudy. ἀ e H eidegger w ho r eturns o r t o w hom o ne
recurs is not the same Heidegger who made his appearances in
France imm ediately b efore a nd imm ediately a fter t he S econd
World War, n or t he o ne w ho r eappeared t en y ears l ater, w hen
many new t ranslations of his works appeared, accompanied by
a new reading of Husserl; these things, along with the growing
distance f rom t he War, c hanged in s ome sm all wa y t he s pace
of hi s r eception, a s w e s ay. A nd t he H eidegger o f t oday i s y et
again another. ἀ e political question one addresses to him is no
longer the same, and the corpus to which we can refer, now that
his complete works are starting to appear (something suspicious
there  .  .  .) and now that we have access to new translations, takes
on a different configuration. One glimpses a different landscape.
What I should call—without being sure of these words—
the force, necessity, but also the art of a thinking is not measured
by the duration and the permanence of its radiant presence; it

is measured, not by the fixity of its impact, but by the number
of i ts e clipses. A nd y ou w ill n ote t hat in s aying t his w e a re
continuing t o s peak o f t he t ext o n Trakl, w hich i s a lso a t ext
on t he y ear, t he d ay, a nd t he co urse o f t he s un. A fter e ach
eclipse t hat s uch t hought i s a ble t o en dure, i t r eappears o nce
again, a nd differently, a s i t em erges f rom b ehind t he c louds,
and t he “same” t ext, t he s ame legac y, i s n o lo nger t he s ame.
It rotates on its axis, and once again it surprises us. A t hinker
who does not accept the law of this eclipse and who does not
count o n i t i s n o t hinker; a t b est h e i s a c alculator w ho n o
longer k nows h ow t o c alculate w ith t he in calculable, w hich
is t he g reatest r isk, t hat o f e clipse w ithout r eturn, t hat o f t he
absolute Stranger who does not return.
At t his l ate p oint in hi s s eminar (5–6), D errida r eturns t o s ome

lines from Trakl’s “Sommersneige,” lines that appeared much earlier both
in Heidegger’s text (US 68) and in his own transcript of the seminar,
which w e exa mined in t he p receding c hapter: “Gedächte ein blaues Wild
seines Pfads, / Des Wohllauts seiner geistlichen Jahre!” (“Were a b lue de er
to r emember i ts p ath, / ἀ e co nsonance o f i ts s piriting y ears!”). D errida
refers to Heidegger’s enduring resistance to the Aristotelian and Scholastic
theme of man as the “rational animal” and his ongoing confrontation with
Nietzsche’s insistence that the human being is the “as yet undiscovered” or
“as yet indeterminate” animal. ἀ e “blue” of “blue deer,” or of “blue game,”
ein blaues Wild, sig nifies for H eidegger n ot t he b estiality o f h umankind
but ein schauendes Denken, a cir cumspective as well as intuitive thinking,
but a lso a t hinking b ack by way of a m emory, w hich Heidegger reserves
for m ortal h umans. Yet a nimals t oo h ave m emory, a s D errida r eminds
his s tudents, and a s h e w ill restate fifteen y ears l ater in The Animal That
Therefore I Am. He n otes t hat t here i s e ven a “ biological” o r “ genetic”
memory, and in t he age of computers t here is a “ technological” memory
as w ell. I n a s ense, t he o bviously “ political” t hematic o f “ Philosophical
Nationality and Nationalism” is subtended by the theme of animal life, the
theme to which Derrida will devote himself during his very last seminar.
For t he m oment h e e laborates a ll f our o f t he “ threads” t hat w ill g o in to
the tapestry of his 1987 Of Spirit.
Naturellement, c’est cette limite entre deux m émoires, comme

entre l’animal et l’homme, qui vient constamment en q uestion
dans ce s éminaire, et c’est pourquoi j’ai beaucoup insisté sur la

question de l’animalité avant d’aborder ce texte‑ci. Cette question
est aussi ce lle de l a t echnique. Mais vous l’avez compris, i l n e
s’agit p as p our m oi d ’effacer toute limi te o u t oute di stinction
entre ce q u’on a ppelle l a b ête et ce q u’on a ppelle l ’homme,
mais de co ntester l ’unité de cet te limi te co mme o pposition
de p art et d ’autre d ’une f rontière q ui s erait ce lle q ui s épare
la m émoire et l a n on‑mémoire, le do nner et le p rendre (et
la m émoire es t a ussi un e m anière de p rendre, de ga rder, de
saisir  .  .  .), l a m émoire p ensante et l a m émoire biologique, la
mémoire pensante et la mémoire technologique. Les différences
entre les es pèces di tes a nimales, y co mpris l ’homme, s ont en
très grand nombre (beaucoup plus d’une) et je parle là de dif‑
férences s tructurelles dans l a c apacité di sons en grammatique
et d ans l ’économie de l ’inscription, di sons d ans le p ouvoir et
la structure mnémoniques.
Et donc dans l’expérience du territoire.

Et du territoire sexuel.
Et du retour, et de la “patrie.” (5–6)
Naturally, i t i s t his limi t b etween t wo m emories, a s b etween

animal a nd h uman, t hat i s co nstantly co ming in to q uestion
in o ur s eminar, a nd t hat i s w hy I h ave s trongly in sisted o n
the question of animality before taking up this particular text.
ἀi s q uestion i s a lso t hat o f t echnology. B ut y ou w ill h ave
understood that for me it is not a matter of effacing every
limit o r e very di stinction b etween w hat o ne c alls “ the b east”
and w hat o ne c alls “ man,” b ut o f co ntesting t he uni ty o f t his
limit as oppositional on both sides o f the one frontier, a f ron‑
tier t hat would b e w hat s eparates memory f rom nonmemory,
giving f rom t aking (a nd m emory i s a lso a m anner o f t aking,
safeguarding, s eizing  .  .  .), t hinking m emory a nd b iological
memory, t hinking m emory a nd t echnological m emory. ἀ e
differences among the species we call “animal,” including man,
are vast in number (many more than one), and in t his context
I s peak o f s tructural differences in t he c apacity w e m ay c all
engrammatical and in the economy of inscription, in what we
may call the power of mnemonic structures.
And thus in the experience of territory.

And of sexual territory.
And of return, and of “the fatherland.”
For Heidegger, Trakl is a p rofoundly historical p oet, “hi storical” in

the sense of geschichtlich and geschickt, destinal; that is to say, he is a p oet
who, like Hölderlin, has a p otentially fateful impact on German‑speaking
peoples. Trakl i s n ot a b ucolic p oet, n ot o ne w ho s purns t he g reat ci ties
of our civilization and hies off to the countryside, even if forests, animals,
farming folk, a nd h unters p opulate hi s p oems. H is Gedicht or sin gular
unsung poem marks the homecoming, not to a familiar nation or country,
to be sure, but to a new way of inhabiting or dwelling on the earth. It is as
though by referring to this new patrie as precisely that, a “fatherland,” and
doing s o in t he face o f Heidegger’s p rotestations, D errida wa nts t o p ush
his effort concerning philosophical nationality and nationalism as far as it
can go. For the new site, the new locale, the new place called earth is still
invoked within a very particular idiom, namely, that of Heidegger’s arcane
German (7–8). Y et t he s trangest a spect o f t his n ew hi storical‑destinal
beginning i s w hat H eidegger des cribes a s f ollows, w ith D errida ci ting
the G erman h ere: “ Seine Dichtung singt das Geschick des Schlages, der
das Menschengeschlecht in sein noch vorbehaltenes Wesen verschlägt, d. h.
rettet” (US 80). “His p oetry sings t he s ending of t he stroke t hat dr ives—
and t hat m eans r escues—the h uman Geschlecht into t hat essence w hich
still r emains r eserved f or i t.” D errida s tresses t he p romise o f r escue a nd
notes (perhaps not with adequate emphasis) the bizarre coupling of “driv‑
ing” or “casting adr ift,” verschlagen, with “rescue,” retten, as t hough t hese
two v ery different w ords, t hese a ntonyms, w ere sy nonyms. D errida do es
not r ecall h ere t he u se o f verschlagen in “ What I s M etaphysics? ” w hich
says, “Die Angst verschlägt uns das Wort,” a nxiety dep rives u s o f s peech,
bottles o r boards up the mouth, casts u s adr ift, leaves us shipwrecked.
Nor do es he ci te Being and Time: “What threatens  .  .  .  is so close that
it co rners u s a nd dep rives u s o f b reath [ den Atem verschlägt]” (SZ 186).
Shipwreck a nd r escue, in o ne b low? S uffocation a s s alvation? D errida
does note that the French translation says merely “frappe en séparant, en
spécifiant,” which, although double, is a very weak translation of verschlägt,
at least in t he light of Heidegger’s earlier uses of the word b oth here and
in prior essays and le ctures. Yet D errida is cer tainly aware t hat t his coup
or frappe, which in H eidegger’s view is to coin a n ew humankind and to
rescue t he e arth, i s o ddly b ound up w ith t he double Schlag—which n ow
seems to b e but one stroke—of good and e vil, as well as w ith t he redou‑
bled, p olysemic Schlag of g eneration a nd s exuality, o f t ribe, race , g enus,
and a ll t he r est. A nd e ven t hough o ne do es n ot wa nt t o le ap f rom 1985
to 2003 in D errida’s own life, at least not without caution, it is surely not
too much to s ay t hat in t he Schlag of Geschlecht t here is s omething b oth
gewaltig an d gewaltsam, both p owerful a nd v iolent. ἀ e v iolence, ir oni‑
cally, would consist in t he impossibly appeasing apposition of verschlagen
and retten, as t hough t he s troke o f e vil w ere a ll a p art o f t he p lan a nd
represented w hat t he mi litary lo ves t o c all m ere co llateral d amage. ἀi s
is w hat fa scinates and affrights D errida, and keeps him o n t ask (9–10). 14
It is clear to Derrida that the Schlag that transforms the new Mensch
engeschlecht in to “ the es sence t hat i s s till r eserved f or i t,” sein noch vor‑
behaltenes Wesen, i s b oth a rchaic a nd o riginary a nd y et in s ome wa y
still t o co me, archi‑originaire et à venir, s o t hat D errida w ould “ almost
dare t o c all i t m essianism.” I n a h andwritten m arginal n ote h e add s t he
underscored words le salut, “salvation,” followed by several undecipherable
words, perhaps including the word venir (12).15 At all events, the rescuing
Schlag t akes t he f orm o f a r eturn (13–14). D errida iden tifies this w ith a
return—a Hölderlinian Heimkunft—to Heimat, to the Land of Evening,
dem Abendland. In t his wa y h e b rings hi s “ Fantôme de l ’autre” b ack t o
the m ore generic theme o f “ Nationalité et nationalisme philosophiques.”
Yet, t o r epeat, t his “h omeland” i s n o fa therland in a ny n ormal s ense. I t
is perhaps instead a k ind of “brotherland,” for even though Derrida does
not s ay s o exp licitly h ere, t here a re m any r eferences in t his s eminar t o
the p revailing f raternalism o f t he fa therland—and in fac t D errida w ill
end t he s eminar b y in voking t he t heme o f f raternity. S uch f raternity o r
fraternalism is particularly important to me because of the unaccountable
way in w hich Heidegger’s stranger “gains a si ster” in hi s reading of Trakl.
In any case, the patrie is granted only in t he remote return that is futural,
to co me, a nd n o do ubt s till a t a n imm ense di stance. A t t his p oint, in a
14. Page 9 i s skipped in t he typescript, which goes from 8 t o 10; D errida corrects the oversight
by hand. From page 11 t o the end of the typewritten notes an electric typewriter is b eing used,
one w ith C ourier t ype, a s o pposed t o t he o lder t ypewriter w ith P ica f ont. R emington h as di s‑
placed Olivetti, while Macintosh looms in the wings.
15. ἀ e fac t e ven t he a rchivists h ave a difficult t ime de ciphering D errida’s h andwriting i s a r e‑
minder of how important it is that the editing of Derrida’s texts is done by those who are expert
in reading his writing. Clearly, I am not among them. Every time Derrida wrote me a handwritten
letter I d ashed off to Pascale‑Anne Brault, crying for h elp, which I received, but after painstak‑
ing efforts on her part—for which again, once again and forever, she has my deepest thanks.
rhetoric t hat is a ll too familiar, Heidegger t ries to defend himself against

the possible charge of “dreamy Romanticism” (US 80) by saying that there
is n othing in T rakl’s s ong f or t he t hrong o f j ournalists a nd t echnocrats,
nothing t here f or t he r ealm o f p olitical e conomy, n othing t here f or t he
masses, Massendasein.
Derrida n ow ini tiates s ome co ncluding r emarks o n t he “ promise”
(although t his is s eldom Heidegger’s explicit word) of a n ew morning or
a n ew s tart o f t he y ear, a m atutinal co mmencement f or a n ew Mensch
enschlag on the earth, promised of old yet still outstanding. Derrida does
so, one must say, with a certain flair and with tongue fairly deep in cheek,
thinking o f H eidegger’s s corn f or c alculative t hinking a nd f or t he t ra‑
ditional C hristian in terpretations o f Trakl’s p oetry, b ut t hinking a lso o f
the p romise o f s pring a nd o f hi s o wn im pending dep arture f or t he New
World:
C’est sur le p oème Frühling [der S eele] dont le v ers Es ist die
Seele  .  .  .  est ext rait q ue s e f erme ou p lutôt s’ouvre l a conclu‑
sion d u t exte [de H eidegger]. L e p rintemps (p remier t emps,
primus, co mmencement de l ’année, J ahr, G ehen, p remière
des s aisons) q ui co mmence en tre le 19 et le 21 m ars, do nc
aujourd’hui m ême16—et c alculateur co mme j e s uis, j ’ai t out
programmé p our q ue l a der nière s éance de ce s éminaire q ui
fût consacrée à ce texte qui se termine par une ouverture et un
envoi sur le p rintemps, et s ur le v oyage, p our que l a der nière
séance de cet te le cture de F rühling der S eele de T rakl et de
Heidegger lisant Trakl et si tuant ce p rintemps, cette ouverture
à la fin, pour que cette dernière séance tombât, comme on dit,
le jour du printemps à l a veille de P âques et d ’un voyage dans
le nouveau monde. (15)
It is with the poem “Frühling [der S eele]” from which the line
“Something s trange i s t he s oul,” Es ist die Seele . . . is t aken
that H eidegger’s t ext c loses, o r ra ther, o pens i ts co nclusion.
Spring, le printemps (premier temps, primus, the co mmence‑
ment o f t he y ear o r Jahr [derived f rom Gehen, “to g o”], t he
first o f t he s easons), b egins b etween t he 19 th a nd t he 21 st of
March, h ence p recisely t oday—and, c alculator t hat I a m, I ’ve
16. According to my historical calendar, this final session took place on Wednesday, March 20, 1985.
programmed everything so that this final session of our semi‑

nar, which was devoted to this text that comes to a c lose with
an o verture t o t he s pring a nd a di spatch s ent t oward i t, t o
and toward a voyage, so that the final session of this reading
of T rakl’s “ Springtime o f t he S oul” a nd o f t he H eideggerian
reading o f Trakl t hat si tuates t his s pring, t his o verture t o t he
end, s o t hat t he final s ession w ould fa ll, a s o ne s ays, o n t he
first d ay o f s pring a nd o n t he e ve o f E aster, a s w ell a s o n t he
eve of a voyage to the New World.
Somewhat less tongue in cheek, Derrida notes that the poem “Früh‑
ling der S eele,” w ith w hich H eidegger b egins a nd en ds hi s Trakl a rticle,
contains the word gewaltig (16). Derrida circles the word in his own type‑
script, cir cles it h eavily a nd m akes a m arginal n otation which, t ypically,
no one at the archive can decipher. In any case, it is clear that this word,
derived f rom Walten, is already important to him in the spring of 1985,
which is the time of Geschlecht II and t he s eedbed, if one may say so, of
the third and fourth Geschlechter. ἀ e phrase in Derrida’s typescript reads:
“Et la mort même, disons cet être pour la mort du jeune homme, est une
mort à laquelle s’ordonne, se plie la mort, le mourir prodigieux, puissant,
extraordinaire, violent (gewaltig).” “And death itself, or let us say, the young
man’s b eing t oward de ath i s a de ath t hat o rders a nd f olds i tself in to a
death a nd a d ying t hat a re p rodigious, p owerful, ext raordinary, a nd v io‑
lent (gewaltig).” ἀ e words violent, extraordinary, puissant or powerful, and
prodigious all seek to t ranslate Trakl’s word gewaltig. ἀi s German word
will co ntinue t o fa scinate D errida u p t o t he en d o f hi s t eaching c areer.
Meanwhile, in t hese c losing m oments o f t he p resent s eminar, D errida
comments on a theme that will occupy him throughout his book Politics
of Friendship, namely, the theme of fraternity and fraternalism:
Mais q ui c hante ce c hant et q ui a ppelle cet te m ort? C ’est le

frère, c’est le frère qui meurt de cette façon puissante (gewaltig),
puissante parce que discrètement elle accomplit, elle fait quelque
chose, d’abord elle chante et le c hant ne décrit pas, ne dit pas
ce qui est, ne constate pas, il appelle et p ar là fait advenir, fait
venir. C’est donc le f rère qui chante, c’est lui le p oète aussi qui
meurt de cet te m ort, q ui acco mplit cet te m ort s elon le p rin
temps, q ui “ sait” c hanter et m ourir—comme i l fa ut  .  .  .—Le
frère qui est le c hantant (der S ingende), qui meurt en s uivant
ce déclin q ui n’est p as la chute (ihm stirbt der B ruder als der
singende n ach). C e n’est p as l a s oeur s élénique. M ourant en

veillant,  .  .  .  l’ami s uit l ’étranger et t raverse l a n uit s pirituelle
de l’année du Départ—Abgeschiedenheit. (17)
Yet w ho sin gs t his s ong, a nd w ho c alls u pon t his de ath? I t

is t he b rother. I t i s t he b rother w ho dies in t his p owerful
way ( gewaltig), puissant b ecause it accomplishes and ac hieves
something q uite di screetly. Fir st o f a ll, i t sin gs, a nd i ts s ong
does n ot des cribe, do es n ot s ay w hat i t i s, do es n ot co nstate;
rather, it calls and thus causes to advene, to arrive. It is t hus
the b rother w ho sin gs. I t i s h e, t he p oet also, w ho dies t his
death, who accomplishes this death in accord with springtime,
who “k nows” h ow t o sin g a nd t o die—a s o ne must  .  .  .—ἀ e
brother, who is the one singing (der Singende), dies b y follow‑
ing this declivity that is not a fall (ihm stirbt der Bruder als der
singende nach [“the brother dies after him as the one singing”]).
ἀi s i s n ot t he S elenic si ster. D ying in s afeguarding,  .  .  .  the
friend follows the stranger and traverses the spiriting night of
the year of departure—“apartness,” Abgeschiedenheit.
In retrospect, i t s eems t o m e t hat t hese co ncluding r emarks s uffice

to p ut in p erspective t he o dd “gaining” o f a si ster t hat wa s t he o bject o f
my co nstant co mplaint t o D errida, a long w ith t he p lea t hat h e t ake u p
the o ddity, e ven t he p erversity, o f t he ex clusion o r a ppropriation o f t he
sister in H eidegger’s p lacement. F or i t h as a lways s truck m e t hat o f a ll
the p oets and w riters I h ave read, G eorg Trakl would b e t he very l ast t o
be s o o blivious w ith r espect t o t he si ster, t he v ery l ast t o b e de af t o h er
inimitable l unar v oice. On e o f hi s m ost s triking p oems b ears t he t itle
“To t he S ister,” a nd if , a s H eidegger dr eams, t here i s b ut o ne Gedicht in
Trakl, that could have been its title. Trakl would be the very last to allow
her l unar n ature t o b e s corched b y t he s olar s plendor o f b rothers. ἀ e
chute of D errida’s own t ypescript, and of t he course, chute being one of
his favorite words, is as follows:
Il y aurait beaucoup à dire, naturellement, compte tenue de

E i n G eschlecht, de cet un de un s exe, un e es pèce d ans le
simple de s a différence, il y a urait beaucoup à dir e de ce p oint
de vue q uant au fa it q ue l a figure du f rère s oit l a s eule à ra s‑
sembler ce c hant: ni l a s oeur, ni p ersonne d’autre (ni le p ère,
la mère, le fils ou la fille). C ela voudrait‑il dire que toutes ces
figures “familiales” sont des figures spécifiant le f rère, que non

seulement le père et le fils sont des frères, ce que peut confirmer
une certain évidence mais que la mère, la fille et l a soeur sont
aussi des f rères et s urtout q ue ceux q ui n ’appartiennent p as
à la famille “générique” ou généalogique sont des frères, le
frère marquant ainsi la rupture avec la structure familiale, la
rupture ou le dépassement ou l’émancipation, l’ami suivant le
frère (figure de la patrie ou au‑delà de la patrie dans la fratrie?
Natalité, naturalité, nationalité ou le contraire, ou son au-delà?
Question que je laisse suspendue. (17–18)
Naturally, there would be lot to say, taking the E i n Geschlecht

into acco unt, a bout t his “ one” a nd t his “ one s ex,” a s pecies
within the simple of its difference. ἀ ere would be a lo t to say
from t his p oint of v iew concerning t he fac t t hat t he figure of
the brother i s t he only one w ho gathers up t his s ong: n either
the sister nor anyone else (not the father, the mother, the son
or the daughter). Would that be to say that all these “familial”
figures are s pecific figures of t he brother, t hat n ot only father
and s on a re brothers, w hich a cer tain k ind of e vidence co uld
confirm, but that mother and sister too are brothers, and above
all t hat t hose w ho do n ot b elong t he “generic” o r g enealogi‑
cal fa mily a re b rothers, t he b rother t hus m arking t he r upture
with the family structure, the rupture or the surpassing or the
emancipation, t he f riend f ollowing t he b rother (a figure o f
the fatherland or, b eyond t he fatherland, of t he brotherland)?
Natality, naturality, nationality, or else the contrary, the beyond
of all that? A question I leave in suspense.
Derrida concludes by reciting one last time the poem “Frühling der
Seele,” w hich H eidegger t oo ci tes a t b oth t he b eginning a nd t he en d o f
his s econd Trakl es say. A nd w ith t his g esture s o en tirely H eideggerian,
one m ust s ay, y et in a s tyle unmi stakably hi s o wn, D errida dra ws t he
course to a close.
7
ἀ e Magnetism of
Georg and Gretl Trakl
ἀ ere is therefore one cause that brought the most primordial oppo‑
sition in to n ature. ἀi s c ause w e c an desig nate b y m eans o f t he
(unknown) cause of primordial magnetism.
—F. W. J. Schelling
Back o f e verything m agnetism. E arth f or in stance p ulling t his a nd

being pulled. ἀ at causes movement. And time? Well, that’s the time
the movement takes.  .  .  .  Come. Come. Tip. Woman and man that
is.  .  .  .  Molly, he.
—L. Boom
V ery near the end of his life, Trakl jotted down two aphorisms, one in
the s pirit o f N ietzsche a nd Heidegger, t he o ther v ery m uch in D er‑
rida’s s pirit. ἀ e first i s a lmost a p araphrase o f The Gay Science, number
324, w hich s erves a s t he ep igram t o t he 1961 p ublication o f H eidegger’s
Nietzsche lectures of the late 1930s. Nietzsche himself seems to be remem‑
bering a let ter h e w rote d uring hi s t eenage y ears t o hi s y ounger si ster—
telling h er t hat s he m ust either be a believer, h ence h appy, or become a
knower, and thus surrender all hopes of happiness. Trakl writes: “Knowl‑
edge w ill co me o nly t o t he o ne w ho des pises h appiness” (T 256). ἀ e
second aphorism, reminiscent of—or lo oking a head t o—the p hilosopher
who r emarked t hat v irtually a ll hi s s eminars cir cled a bout t he t heme o f
amour, reads, “My feeling in t hose moments of being that seem similar to
death: All human b eings are worthy of love. C oming to wa kefulness you
feel t he w orld’s b itterness; a ll y our un absolved gui lt i s t here; y our p oem
an im perfect retribution” (ibid.). A nd because Trakl refers here t o dein
Gedicht, in the singular, this may be an aphorism for Heidegger as well.
223
One o f t he m ost r emarkable differences b etween H eidegger a nd

Derrida generally is the latter’s insistence that life and work are intertwined
in s uch a wa y t hat one c annot simply a bjure biography. It i s n ot en ough
to say that Aristotle was b orn, worked, and died—even if D errida agrees
that birth and de ath are sig nificant. No doubt, Heidegger i s r ight t o fear
the subjectivism and biographical reductionism of our time, when gossip
rules—although when and where did it not? Derrida himself is stringently
critical o f b iographical a nd es pecially a utobiographical di scourses, a nd
he is more likely to affirm the self‑tracing of the life that runs through
every autobiographical animal. Neither Heidegger nor D errida has much
faith in a t racing that is performed by the cogito, however, which derives
from cogo and t herefore m eans a s m uch a s a ga thering p erformed b y
mere consciousness. In this lack of faith Heidegger and Derrida are one.
In this final chapter, it will be a matter of trying to trace at least
something o f the li ves a nd w orks o f Georg and G retl Trakl. No do ubt
this attempt at an interweaving w ill b e ungainly, t he work of a b eginner,
especially when t he biographical det ails a re s o scanty. Y et t he a ttempt
must be made. For “thinking” alone, whatever it may be, will not be able
to p lace o r si tuate t he p oem; n or w ill i t b e a ble t o r egister t he m agnetic
force exerted by the Geschlecht that bears the name Trakl.
How t o exp lain t he m agnetism—felt b y b oth H eidegger a nd D er‑
rida—radiated b y a m an w ho des pises h appiness a nd w ho a t le ast f rom
adolescence on succeeds in banishing it from the remainder of the meager
twenty‑seven y ears o f hi s lif e? H ow acco unt f or t he m agnetism ex erted
by a p oet w ho a fter puberty t astes b itterness and gui lt e very d ay o f t hat
brief lif e, y et w hose “poem,” a lways c lose t o t he m oments m ost reminis‑
cent o f de ath, desir es t o de clare n othing o ther t han lo ve, a nd t o e very
human being? To declare love—even if Trakl faults himself for the lack
of i t. I n a let ter t o L udwig v on Fic ker, d ated June 26, 1913, T rakl w rites
from Salzburg:
Here e ach d ay i s g loomier a nd co lder t han t he l ast, a nd i t i s

raining without interruption. From time to time a ra y of light
from my final s unny d ays in I nnsbruck p enetrates t he g loom
and fills me with the most profound gratitude toward you and
all the noble human beings whose goodness, in truth, I do not
very much deserve. Too little love, too little justice and mercy,
and again, always too little love; too much severity, arrogance,
and all sorts of criminality—that is who I am. I am certain that
I abstain from evil only out of weakness and cowardice, so that
ἀ e Magnetism of Georg and Gretl Trakl 225
I desecrate my very malevolence. I long for the day when the

soul in this soulless body of mine, plagued by melancholy, will
no lo nger w ish t o d well, w ill n o lo nger b e a ble t o d well; t he
day when my soul abandons this figure of mockery composed
of filth and rot, w hich is an a ll‑too‑faithful mir ror image of a
godless and accursed century.
God, o nly a t iny s park o f p ure j oy—and o ne w ould b e
rescued; love—and one would be redeemed. (T 301)
It is time to bring my own effort in t he present b ook to s ome kind

of co nclusion. E ven t hough o ne o f t he lo west cir cles o f h ell i s de dicated
to a uthors w ho q uote t hemselves, I decided e arly o n in t he w riting o f i t
to r eview m y e arlier p ublished p ieces o n T rakl, H eidegger’s T rakl, a nd
Derrida’s H eidegger, sim ply b ecause t he first p iece, “ Schlag der L iebe,
Schlag des Todes,” was important for my own initial encounters with Der‑
rida, w hile t he s econd a nd t hird, c hapter 8 o f Daimon Life and c hapter
4 of Lunar Voices, w ere left largely w ithout response f rom him. N ot t hat
Derrida was displeased w ith or uninterested in t hem—our conversations
about them enable me to feel sure about that. When I ur ged him in 1992
to return to Heidegger’s Trakl interpretation and to publish Geschlecht
III, he laughed and said, “Why should I? You’ve already done it.” I have
no i llusions or delusions about t his, of course, and my insistence t hat he
continue i s w hat lies b ehind t he b ook t he reader h as n ow in h and: e ven
if D errida le aves t he q uestion o f t he b rother a nd si ster in T rakl’s p oetry
largely in s uspense, ad vising hi s s tudents t o p ursue i t, a nd e ven if h e
leaves the theme of the lovers in Trakl’s poetry more or less undiscussed,
in s pite of hi s own de dication t o t he mysteries of amour, it s eems t o m e
that the 1984–85 s eminar, “ ἀ e Phantom of the Other,” eminently merits
publication a nd di scussion. W hat f ollows i s n o m ore t han a co ncluding
reflection o n a n umber o f t he m any p hantoms—all o f t hem a ltogether
other—with w hich D errida has blessed us in t hat s eminar. Including t he
phantoms of Georg and Gretl Trakl.
Perhaps s even t hemes c all f or f urther t hinking: first, b ut a lso l ast,
as t he a lpha a nd o mega o f t he p resent un dertaking, t he r iddle o f G eorg
Trakl’s magnetism for both Heidegger and Derrida—especially the admi‑
ration t hat H eidegger h as f or t his poète maudit, which is a nything b ut
clear; s econd, t he problem of Erläuterung and Erörterung, “commentary”
and “placement” or “situation,” which are not simply alternating modes of
interpretation, not simply in Wechselbezug, as Heidegger claims, but which
indicate an aporia of thinking in the face of all poetry; third, related to the
issue of “placement” as opposed to “commentary,” the problem of Heideg‑

gerian Mehrdeutigkeit, or “multiplicity of meaning,” as opposed to the less
familiar and far more difficult notion of D erridian dissémination; fourth,
the likewise r elated question of the idiomatic q ualities of any a nd every
language, and that means the issue of possible and impossible translation;
fifth, Heidegger’s strange reduction of the sister in Trakl’s poetry to a mere
appurtenance of fraternity, even though he is perfectly aware of the impor‑
tance of σελάννα, the lunar voice of the sister; sixth, Heidegger’s apparent
confidence t hat t he t wo “ blows” o f Geschlecht can b e di stinguished, t he
first co ining t he n eutral difference o f s exual d uality, m an a nd w oman,
the s econd in troducing t he curse of di scord in to t he relations b etween
them, especially when such discord invades the brother‑sister relationship;
equally p roblematic i s t he f urther co nfidence—or des perate h ope—that
a r eturn t o a “ more s erene c hildhood” i s p ossible f or t he Geschlechter;
and s eventh, t he p roblem o f “Christian fa ith” a nd “Christian des pair” in
relation to Trakl’s poetry.
Initially, h owever, I w ould li ke t o en ter a p reliminary r emark co n‑
cerning t he t ermination o f t he Geschlecht series. D errida’s p resentation
of Aporias: Dying—Awaiting (One Another at) the Limits of Truth on July
15, 1992, a t C erisy l a Sa lle, wa s a n ext raordinary e vent. If t he t heme f or
this s econd décade (of t he e ventual f our) at C erisy in h onor of D errida’s
work wa s “ Crossing F rontiers,” D errida c hose t o t alk a bout t he f rontier
we c all death. Again i t wa s H eidegger w ho o ccupied cen ter s tage, a lbeit
not t he Heidegger of s pirit, w hether in 1933 o r 1953, n or t he Heidegger
of Geschlecht, whether in 1928 o r 1953. H ere i t wa s o nce a gain a m atter
of H eidegger’s Being and Time and i ts fa mous exi stential in terpretation
of death a s t he “ possible impossibility of D asein,” a long w ith M aurice
Blanchot’s alternative, which one might call the “impossible possibility of
death.” D uring his introductory remarks on limits and f rontiers, D errida
observed: “In another conference it would have been necessary to explore
these exp eriences o f t he e dge o r t he b orderline desig nated b y w hat o ne
calls t he b ody proper and s exual difference” (AP 48/21). Y et t hat confer‑
ence never materialized, even though Derrida’s final seminar on animality
constantly touched on the themes of sexuality and sexual difference.
At this same décade of 1992, I presented a paper with the title, “Pas‑
sage à l a soeur: autour de Trakl, Heidegger et Geschlecht,” which became
the basis for the fourth chapter of Lunar Voices, “ἀ e Lunar Voice of the
Sister,” m entioned a m oment a go. B oth t he di scussion w ith D errida t hat
followed m y p aper a nd hi s o wn r emark in t he “Aporias” le cture s hould
have demonstrated to me—although I am not certain that I recognized
it at the time—that the Geschlecht project had come to a c lose. Foolishly,

I did n ot j ot down a ny n otes f rom t he di scussion t hat f ollowed my own
paper, but I r ecall Derrida asking me principally about the quandary that
goes under the by n ow familiar t erms Erläuterung and Erörterung. As I
remember, h e did n ot v enture fa rther in to t he m atter t hat o ccupied m e
then as now—the peculiar power of the figures of the sister and the lovers
in Trakl’s p oetry, a long w ith H eidegger’s r esistance t o a ny di scussion o f
that p ower. As I read again Aporias all these years l ater—more t han t wo
decades h ave p assed—I a m t orn b etween t he desir e t o di scuss i t h ere,
because it is truly an ext raordinary meditation—indeed, one of D errida’s
most r emarkable co nfrontations w ith H eidegger—and t he n ecessity o f
recognizing that in it Trakl plays no obvious role.
ἀ e first (and last) of the seven themes mentioned above is that of
Trakl’s mysterious magnetism. I had been reading Heidegger’s Trakl inter‑
pretation, especially in “Die Sprache im Gedicht,” along with the poems of
Georg Trakl to which Heidegger’s reading initially sent me, since the early
1970s. I h ad also begun to le arn more a bout Trakl’s b rief a nd t roubled
life, as well as about the life of his beloved sister Margarethe, “Gretl.” Her
life was as brief and as catastrophic as her brother’s. Georg died of an
overdose of cocaine during the first weeks of World War I; Gretl died of a
self‑inflicted gunshot wound three years later. ἀ e very first remark of my
first published venture into Trakl, “Strokes of Love and Death,” notes how
bizarre t he p air H eidegger‑Trakl s eems t o b e. We c an e asily un derstand
Heidegger’s de votion t o H ölderlin. E verything a bout H ölderlin s eems t o
justify H eidegger’s de votion, e ven if n ot e verything a bout H eidegger’s
devotion do es j ustice t o H ölderlin. Y et n o m atter h ow “ Expressionist”
Heidegger’s o wn t hinking a nd w riting o ften p rove t o b e, i t i s difficult t o
comprehend t he f undamental o ntologist’s o r t he l ater t hinker’s de dica‑
tion to Trakl’s poetry, a de dication that began during Heidegger’s student
days a nd continued up t o t he en d of hi s lif e. On e of Trakl’s companions
called t he p oet “ a P latonic cr iminal,” a nd w hile t hat co uld m ean m any
things, none of them seems likely to have drawn Heidegger to Trakl. ἀ e
magnetism t hat Trakl ex erts o n Heidegger m ay o f co urse a rise f rom t he
echoes o f Hölderlin t hat w e h ear t hroughout Trakl’s v erses. K laus M ann
remarks that Trakl “took up the lyre that slipped from Hölderlin’s hands”;
Kurt Pinthus adds that Trakl himself “glided hölderlinisch into an infinitely
blue stream of fatal attenuation.”1 In our own days the lyre seems to have
1. For the source of these quotations from Kurt Pinthus, Menschheitsdämmerung, see IM, 189.
passed to Paul Celan, Ingeborg Bachmann, and others; certainly in the

Anglophone w orld, a lbeit n ot in t he G erman‑speaking w orld, Trakl h as
well‑nigh vanished. Among “Heideggerians,” the Trakl essays of Heidegger
are l argely ig nored: t hey s eem n ot t o “fit in” w ith Heidegger’s u sual p re‑
occupations. ἀ ey cer tainly do n ot aid any et hereal t hinking of b eing or
Ereignis; they s urely do not edify in any wa y. A nd y et, a s D errida says
of these essays, especially the second, “Die Sprache im G edicht,” they are
remarkably dense and rich, as intense and as thought‑provoking as any of
Heidegger’s lectures and essays on Hölderlin. Perhaps Heidegger, in s pite
of hi s problems w ith R ilke, w ould h ave h ad t o a ffirm R ilke’s response t o
Trakl’s p oetry. Rilke described his r eaction to it in four words: ergriffen,
staunend, ahnend, und ratlos, “gripped, astonished, intimating, and utterly
at a loss.”2 He asked Ludwig von Ficker, “Who might he have been? ”
Derrida’s attraction to Trakl is surely as indebted to Heidegger’s read‑
ing of the poet as my own was and is. ἀ at is to say, we have no evidence
that Derrida had any “contact” with Trakl’s poetry prior his study of Hei‑
degger’s two essays in Unterwegs zur Sprache. ἀ at is natural enough—and
it testifies to the importance of literary as well as philosophical nationality
and n ationalism. It i s s afe t o s ay t hat w hat b oth fa scinates a nd p erturbs
Derrida about Heidegger’s reading of Trakl is its confidence, the assurance
with which it declares what Trakl’s ostensible single poem, unwritten and
unsung, says; to be sure, Heidegger often enough proclaims the tentative‑
ness o f hi s “placement” o f Trakl’s p oetry, a vowing t hat h e s carcely d ares
to co ntinue w ith i t, a nd y et D errida s uspects t hat t hese p roclamations
are di singenuous. No do ubt, h e finds Trakl’s p oems fa r les s a menable t o
such a co nfident “placement,” in p art b ecause t hey a re w ritten a nd s ung
in germain. For D errida, t he m agnetism of Trakl’s poetry h as to do w ith
those declarations of love mentioned earlier: aimance and aimer are of a
piece, and the title Geschlecht, although in the German idiom, itself identi‑
fies the nature of the magnetism in D errida’s case. For Derrida, the lover
of B audelaire, Mallarmé, Kafka, Maurice Blanchot, G eorges B ataille, Jean
Genet, Francis Ponge, Hélène Cixous, and Paul C elan, t he m agnetism of
Trakl’s p oetry is not s o difficult to explain, e ven if i ts “situation” remains
undecidable. L udwig W ittgenstein, w ho t hrough t he a gency o f L udwig
von Fic ker p rovided a g enerous g rant t o T rakl d uring t he final w eeks
2. Rainer Maria R ilke, Briefe aus den Jahren 1914 bis 1921 (Leipzig: Insel Verlag, 1938), 36–37.
See also Rilke’s letter to Ludwig von Ficker immediately preceding and a l ater one, dated Febru‑
ary 22, 1917, to Trakl’s childhood friend Erhard Buschbeck, Briefe, 126–27.
of t he p oet’s lif e, s ays t his a bout t he p oems: “ I do n’t un derstand t hem;

but t heir tone pleases m e. I t i s t he t one o f t he t ruly in genious h uman
being” (OB 145). N either Derrida nor Heidegger mentions Wittgenstein’s
response, b ut i t i s in a ny c ase m uch c loser t o t heir o wn r esponses t han
one mig ht have imagined. About R ilke’s response too t hey remain si lent.
After o ne s tudies T rakl’s p oetic de velopment, o bserving hi s m eticulous
revision o f p oem a fter p oem, o ne i s left with a r emark b y Trakl t o K arl
Röck, which the latter records as follows: “One cannot communicate one‑
self at all.” Man kann sich überhaupt nicht mitteilen (OB 101).
To b e s ure, D errida’s Trakl a nd Heidegger’s Trakl a re t wo v ery dif ‑
ferent s orts o f lo destones—in s pite o f t he fa scination t hat dra ws t hem
both to him. For both Heidegger and Derrida, however, the question as to
who Trakl may have been leads directly to the question of Geschlecht—the
genus and generation of humankind, coined in a nd by the twofold of the
Geschlechter. And t hat q uestion le ads dir ectly t o t hat o f t he Schlag, the
blow, stamping, or coining of humankind that itself appears to be twofold:
first, the blow or coinage produces the primal twofold of the sexes, and
second, the blow, inexplicably b ecome a c urse and a p lague, drives those
sexes in to di ssension a nd in ternecine wa rfare. U ltimately, t hat s econd
blow, w hich m ay b ecome y et a t hird, w hen t he di ssension b etween m an
and w oman p enetrates t he b rother‑sister p air in a wa y t hat H eidegger
describes a s s uperlative m alignancy, le ads H eidegger—but a lso D errida,
who h as n ot g iven u p o n a cer tain u topia o f s exual differences—to a sk
whether one may hope for a more gentle twofold. Heidegger seems to find
it in a r egression back to childhood, as though childhood and its latency
were t he p rimal s cene o f a g entleness o r Sanftmut that l ater, in s exual
maturity, is quashed. Derrida, who may be, pace Lacan, the most creative
interpreter o f psy choanalysis in o ur t ime, c annot f ollow s uch a m ove,
which appears to be a r eturn to something that never was, an impossible
return t o a p ast t hat n ever wa s p resent. E ven s o, a s D errida co ncedes,
one can dream. ἀ e magnetism of Georg and Gretl Trakl—for once again
the name Gretl, mentioned by neither philosopher, is drawn magnetically
into the constellation—along with the magnetism of Trakl’s poetry, seem
to draw philosophers of any and every stripe into the realm of dream.
What in the end seems to frustrate Heidegger’s phantasm of a radi‑
cal t ransformation o f t he acc ursed co inage o f h umankind, n amely, i ts
transfiguration in to a m atutinal b irth a nd b urgeoning, a t ransfiguration
promised at t he d awn but n ot realized by nig htfall, i s t hat Trakl’s p oetry
everywhere affirms the interlacing of dawn and dusk, innocence and guilt,
greening a nd de caying. To b e o n E arth a nd t o b elong t o t he e arth i s t o
affirm that in terlacing. I t is a mi stake t o s ay, as I s aid in m y first effort

to r ead H eidegger’s T rakl es say, t hat T rakl contrasts b lue ga me a nd t he
decomposing Geschlecht. Trakl is not a p oet of contrastings. He is a p oet
of acc umulated in tertwinings a nd im brications, in w hich t he p oet’s o wn
mirror image is that of a f emale stranger—utterly uncanny in a ll its con‑
firmations and contradictions. Oppositional thinking does not pertain to
Trakl and is inadequate to his poetry. His law does not exclude the middle
but embraces it. What is oddest about Heidegger’s reading of Trakl is that
while it rejects any “Christian” or “Platonizing” placement of t he p oems,
the “apartness” o f t hat p oetry i s t hought in t erms o f a hi story o f b eing
that seeks rescue and even salvation for the Menschengeschlecht, provided
there c an b e a radic al p urge o f t he “disessenced” creature. Such a p urge,
transfiguration, and salvation necessitate Heidegger’s effort to distinguish
between t he t wo b lows, t he first inn ocent o r a t le ast n eutral, t he s econd
evil. H is effort t hus c ulminates in t he p hantasm o f t he transmutation of
evil. Such a t ransmutation, in H eidegger’s view, would repel t he invasion
of q uarrel a nd co nflict in to t he r elations b etween b rother a nd si ster; i t
would resist or “still” that invasion by realizing a m ore gentle, more tran‑
quil childhood for the two of them. And even so, Heidegger is convinced
that his own dream has nothing to do with Platonism or with Christianity.
ἀ e word incest of course do es not appear in H eidegger’s essays on
Trakl. D errida t oo circumvents t he w ord, e ven if i t i s t he w ord of R ous‑
seau. For Heidegger, at least, the work of thinking and the word of poetry
must be protected from brutal penetrations of biography and psychology,
to say nothing of cultural anthropology and the law. And yet the shadow
of discord and even of supreme evil haunts the siblings. If Hegel appears
to b e co nfident t hat in t he b rother‑sister r elationship t he b lood i s n ever
agitated (PG 325–26), H eidegger i s n o longer s o cer tain. A nd D errida i s
far f rom cer tain, a s h e dr eams o f a r edoubled, uni versal h omosexuality,
or a t le ast o f a desir e b etween si blings t hat do es n ot le ad t o wa r. E ven
if o ne c an a nd m ust ex clude psy choanalysis a nd e very o ther s ocial s ci‑
ence f rom a p lacement o f p oetry, t he effects o f t hose di scourses i s f elt
on e very p age o f H eidegger’s t ext. A voidance, a s D errida dem onstrates
so effectively in Of Spirit, even if a s ometime t hing w ith r egard t o i ts
efficacy, is everywhere present in H eidegger’s essay. Avoidance operates a
bit li ke t he m ood o f a nxiety a s des cribed in Being and Time: e ven w hen
one turns one’s back on the fundamental attunement of anxiety, it creeps
up f rom b ehind, a nd n othing t urns o ut t o b e h arder t o m aintain t han a
complacent inauthenticity.
Heidegger’s n eed t o r escue Trakl a nd t he r est o f h umankind f rom
the de composition a nd “ disessencing” t hat T rakl s o co mpellingly p oet‑

izes results in various forms of violence in his placement. One of them
is so alarming that I n eed to reproduce my complaint about it here, even
though a lready in Lunar Voices I m ade m uch o f i t. B ecause H eidegger
wants to separate off the transmogrified race of a new humankind from
what h as g one b efore, h e in sists t hat T rakl c an o nly r ejoice w hen t he
accursed race fa lls in b attle—one thinks of Ernst Macke, Franz Marc, and
Trakl him self a mong t he fa llen. H eidegger co mments o n t he final lin es
of “ Grodek,” “ ἀ e h ot flame o f s pirit i s f ed t oday b y a n o verwhelming
agony, / ἀ e unborn grandchildren,” as follows:
ἀ e “grandchildren” indicated here are in no sense the sons who

remain ungenerated by the sons who have fallen [die ungezeugt
gebliebenen Söhne der gefallenen Söhne], those fallen sons who
stemmed f rom t he de composing Geschlecht. I f t hat w ere a ll
that i s in volved, n amely, a ces sation o f f urther g eneration o f
prior Geschlechter, t hen o ur p oet w ould h ave t o j ubilate o ver
such an end [müßte . . . jubeln]. Yet he is in mourning. To be
sure, i t i s a “ prouder m ourning,” o ne t hat gazes a rdently o n
the repose of the unborn. (US 65)
Heidegger recognizes that Trakl is in mourning, but he wants to

deny t hat i t i s a m ourning o f t he un born o ffspring o f t he wa r de ad.
For s uch un born w ould b elong t o t he acc ursed race , a nd H eidegger i s
certain t hat T rakl j oins him in w ishing t hat race g ood r iddance. H ei‑
degger cannot conceive of Trakl’s intimate belonging to the accursed race,
cannot co nceive o f Trakl’s a ffirmation o f a nd fidelity t o t he di sessenced
Geschlecht. Yet Trakl’s p oetry e verywhere p roclaims t he p oet’s b elonging
to and affirmation of t hat un happy h ouse, w hich i s t he only h ouse t here
ever wa s. Trakl, t he p oet w ho s erved a s a m edic d uring t he first w eeks
of t he wa r, a m edic w ithout m edicines, un able t o a lleviate t he s uffering
of t he wounded w hose desperation cost him hi s own life, is not li kely to
have exulted over the agony and wretched demise of his fellows, however
“disessenced.” I t i s o ne t hing n ot t o a llow b iography t o in trude u pon a
placement of poetry; it is another to project a brutal indifference onto the
poet. Trakl does not dream of the demise of any Geschlecht. ἀ e cruelty
of Silenos and the scorn of Mephistopheles are ultimately foreign to him,
no m atter h ow m uch h e c astigates him self f or hi s h ardness o f h eart, hi s
arrogance, and his lack of love. When in “Autumn Soul” Trakl invokes
the “dark wa ndering” t hat “ soon s eparated u s f rom lo ved o nes, o thers,”
a s eparation (t he ‑schied of Abgeschiedenheit) t hat c auses him p ain a nd

grief, Heidegger is once again happy to celebrate the end of the accursed
race. I n Heidegger’s v iew, t he “others” a re n othing o ther t han “the co in‑
age o f t he de composed co nfiguration o f h umanity” (US 49), os tensibly
spurned by t he p oet f or the sake of t he new Geschlecht. Heidegger co n‑
cedes that some love and veneration may still “remain attached” to these
contemptible “others,” but what he desires is that the figure of Elis, he or
she of the lunar voice, become “the other with regard to these others [der
Andere zu den Anderen]” (US 50). H eidegger h opes a nd t rusts t hat t he
“others” cited in Trakl’s line will be abandoned. In other words, the Liebe
that is still attached to t he “others” in T rakl’s line, von Lieben, Andern, is
an em barrassment t o H eidegger, s omething t hat o ught t o b e o vercome.
Loved o nes? H eidegger n ever m entions t hem a gain. L overs? H eidegger
never mentions them at all. Trakl often does. His favorite novel is Goethe’s
Wahlverwandtschaften, “such a still and g entle book” (OB 111).
ἀ e lo vers, in voked t ime a nd a gain in T rakl’s p oetry, s ome o f i t
reproduced in A ppendix B a t t he en d o f t he p resent b ook, s hare t he
mild t ime o f g entle em brace. ἀ ey ra ise t heir r oselike e yelids un der t he
shadow o f a t ree, b reathing sig hs a mong i ts b ranches. B lond a nd b eam‑
ing lo vers c ast d arkling lo oks a t o ne a nother a nd in d ark co nversation
come t o k now o ne a nother a s m an a nd w oman. L overs g low a fresh in
wingèd t hings, c ling t o o ne a nother w ith lo nging a rms, a nd t hey s uffer
more gently. (Indeed, Sanftmut seems t o b e p reeminently t heirs, e ven as
they c ling t o o ne a nother, e ven a s t hey m ake lo ve.) ἀ eir b reath flows
more sweetly through the night as they blossom toward their stars. To be
sure, there is a s hadow side t o their embrace. ἀ eir limbs are schmächtig,
delicate but also f ragile, s ometimes utterly without strength, languishing,
exhausted. ἀ e lovers die o n t heir way across. Finally, t he lovers are a lso
mentioned in t he very poem that gives Heidegger his principal question,
the question of Geschlecht, the question that in t urn magnetizes Derrida.
We have seen and heard these lines from the “Western Song” already:

Und der süße Gesang der Auferstandenen.

O n e Geschlecht. Incense streams from pillows all roses
When Derrida in t he final stages of his 1984–85 s eminar comments

on H eidegger’s f oreshortened a nd e ven f oreclosed r eading o f t his p oem,
we can sense the entire range of questions Derrida himself wants to raise,
questions such as the following: Where, in Heidegger’s treatment of Trakl,
do w e find a n in terpretation o f t he radi ance o f t he lo vers, t he ra ys o r
beams o f t he lo vers? W here do w e find a n in quiry in to t he e yelids o f
lovers, f or exa mple, o r f or t hat m atter in to t he e yebrows o f t he si ster,
shaped and b ent by G od? (S ee “ To t he Sister,” cited b elow and reprinted
in A ppendix B .) D o w e find e ven t he w ord die Liebenden in ei ther o f
Heidegger’s two Trakl essays? Do the lovers then count for nothing? Even
when t hey immediately precede t he colon t hat may well gather an entire
poem to its meaning? Have the lovers no relation to Heidegger’s dream of
stillness, repose, and Sanftmut? What is the relation of lovers to childhood,
to t he c hildlike a nd e ven t he c hildish? C an a nything a bout t hat r elation
be de cided in epochal terms, that i s t o s ay, f or a n en tire Geschlecht? Or
would not differences abound especially here? Would there not be, amidst
all the failures gaffes gambles and losses, the occasional achievement of
tenderness? the fortuitous combination of madness and gentleness? laugh‑
ter w ithout m ockery? t ears w ithout cr ocodiles? Would t hinking b e a ble
to en tertain s omething li ke t he p olysemic p leasure o f lo vers? A nd w hat
about t hese lo ving b odies, a nd t he exh alations o f t hese b odies? W hat i s
the in cense t hat y ellows t he lo vers’ p illows, p illows o therwise a ll r oses?
Why i s t he lo vers’ s ong sw eet? A nd w hy i s i t a s ong o r e ven a h ymn o f
“the resurrected”?
To b e s ure, in r esponse t o t his l ast q uestion H eidegger w ould b e
quick t o den y t hat s uch “ resurrection” i s a nything li ke t he o ne dep icted
on the Isenheim altar, which shows an astonishingly radiant Christ burst‑
ing f rom t he t omb. D errida, f or hi s p art, w ould w onder w hether s uch a
Christ, or any follower of Christ, in addi tion to being a si ster, might also
be a lo ver. At a ll e vents, t he lin es q uoted a bove a re t he v ery l ast lin es of
the Abendländisches Lied. And if the Occident named in the title of Trakl’s
song is (at least in p art) also the site of Heidegger’s history of being, how
can his or anyone’s account of the history of being ignore these lines? Dare
anyone ext ract one word f rom one phrase, t he one of O n e Geschlecht,
and ignore the rest?
In Lunar Voices I could find no better way of describing Heidegger’s
placement of Trakl’s poem than by declaring, rather naively and helplessly,
that Heidegger turns the horizontality of the lovers into a v ertical, trans‑
forming their horizon into the phantasm of an upward‑bound humankind
in t he hi story o f b eing. ἀ e ir ony o f s uch a scensionalism, p referring t he
y‑axis t o t he x‑axis, w ould b e t hat i t co llapses b ack in to t he P latonism

from which it had hoped to rescue Trakl’s poetry. ἀ e destitution of such
ascensionalism i s t hat i t dep rives i tself o f t he “ sweet s ong o f t he r esur‑
rected.” And who apart from the moralist and the metaphysician would
refuse to exchange the entire history of being for one stanza of that song?
Sung by even the most tone deaf dissessenced lover?
I recall keeping these reminders a live at Cerisy la Sa lle in 1992.
Whatever the ex cesses and fa ilures of m y remarks there, t he resulting
chapter in Lunar Voices does s everal t hings t hat I b elieve still have s ome
future t o t hem: (1) i t c hallenges Heidegger’s n otions o f t he g entleness o f
childhood a nd t he a pparent c larity o f t he di stinction b oy‑girl a s en vis‑
aged b y T rakl; (2) i t c hallenges H eidegger’s a ttribution t o T rakl o f t he
notion t hat a f utural and matutinal generation of t he unborn w ill b e t he
culmination o f Western hi story—that i s t o s ay, i t c hallenges w hat h ere
too I w ill continue to call Heidegger’s “verticalization” of the horizon(t)al
relation o f b rothers, si sters, a nd lo vers in T rakl’s p oetry; (3) i t in vites u s
to t hink a bout H eidegger’s t acit a llusion t o a nd accep tance o f t he in cest
prohibition in hi s interpretation of radical evil, an allusion that refuses to
meditate o n t hat p rohibition; (4) i t c hallenges Heidegger’s b land s ugges‑
tion t hat one c an f raternize w ith t he sister by b ecoming a b rother to t he
stranger;3 finally, (5) i t b ears w itness t o H eidegger’s fa ilure t o r ecognize
that t he one of E i n Geschlecht is p redicated n ot o f b rother a nd si ster
prior t o t he s econd s troke, n or e ven a fter t he s econd s troke, b ut o f t he
lovers, Liebenden.
What might one ask of Derrida, or now of his readers, with regard
to the themes of the sister and the lovers in Trakl’s poetry? One possibil‑
ity would be to expand Derrida’s Politics of Friendship by considering the
way in w hich Heidegger too elevates fraternity to a cen tral p osition e ven
when i t i s a q uestion o f t he si ster. R ecall t he o dd way in w hich, acco rd‑
ing to Heidegger, one “gains” a si ster—discussed at some length in Lunar
Voices. It i s a r itual o f t he un canniest s ort. A ccording t o H eidegger, “A
friend listens in o n the stranger. Listening in t his way, he pursues the one
who i s a part, a nd t hereby him self b ecomes a wa nderer, a s tranger” (US
68). ἀ e friend with whom Heidegger seems to identify himself is all ears,
and by listening to the stranger’s song the friend becomes everything the
stranger i s. ἀ e f riend i s, o r desir es t o b e, t he f riend t hat e very D asein
3. Please note the printer’s error in c hapter 4 of Lunar Voices: on p. 103, lin e 6 f rom the bottom,
the phrase should read: “becomes a brother to his sister.”
carries w ith itself, t he friend who h aunts Geschlecht IV. ἀ ese strange
friends share e verything, e ven t heir f raternal relation to a si ster. It is not
that t he si ster o f t he o ne b ecomes t he si ster o f t he o ther. ἀ e p roblem
then becomes: How does one gain a sister?
ἀ e f riend w ho li stens in vites t he s tranger t o co nverse w ith him.
He gazes o n the stranger until the stranger returns his gaze. ἀr ough this
exchange o f r egards, t he f riend b ecomes a brother t o t he s tranger. ἀ e
friend, b ecome b rother, p resumably ga ins f or him self a ll t he m ysterious
serenity o f t he s tranger. ἀ e s tranger, w ho i s p erhaps t he b oy w ho die d
young, Elis, is himself the secret source of serenity and repose. Neverthe‑
less, as though by way of some unexplained supplementation, Heidegger
now add s a final det ail co ncerning t he ini tiation in to b rotherhood, t he
rite o f p assage f rom f riend t o b rother: “ However, w hen t he f riend w ho
listens in sin gs ‘ ἀ e S ong o f t he D eparted,’ a nd in s o do ing b ecomes a
brother to the stranger, the stranger’s brother, through the stranger alone
[durch diesen erst], becomes a brother to his sister, the sister whose ‘lunar
voice r esounds t hrough t he s piriting nig ht’ ” (US 69–70). ἀ e lin es o f
the “ Gesang des A bgeschiedenen” (r eprinted in A ppendix A) t hat s eem
particularly relevant to Heidegger’s winning of a sister are these:
Und es leuchtet ein Lämpchen, das Gute, in seinem Herzen

Und der Frieden des Mahls; denn geheiligt is Brot und Wein
Von Gottes Händen, und es schaut aus nächtigen Augen
Stille dich der Bruder an, daß er ruhe von dorniger Wanderschaft.
O das Wohnen in der beseelten Bläue der Nacht. (T 79)
And a fragile lamp is lit, the good, in his heart

And the peace of the repast; for bread and wine are sanctified
By God’s hands, and, gazing at you from nocturnal eyes,
Quietly, the brother, may he find rest from thorny wandering;
Oh, to dwell in the ensouled blueness of the night.
Singing t hese lin es, t he f riend b ecomes a b rother t o t he s tranger,

and, a lthough n othing in t his p oem directly n ames or invokes t he si ster,
the friend, according to Heidegger, “through the stranger alone, becomes
a b rother t o hi s si ster.” On e h as to a sk: his si ster? W hose? Two r emarks,
one on t he “hi s” of “hi s si ster,” t he s econd on t he si ster a s in evitably t he
sister to a “brother.”
In the phrase wird der Bruder des Fremdlings durch diesen erst zum
Bruder seiner Schwester, what is the antecedent of the possessive pronoun
seiner? Is the sister in question consanguineous with the stranger, or rather

with the stranger’s friend and newly won brother? ἀ e French translation
of H eidegger’s “ Language in t he P oem” do es n ot h esitate t o a nswer t he
question concerning t he si ster, t ranslating t he phrase a s follows: “ce frère
devient, pour sa propre soeur, à son tour un frère,” r oughly, “this b rother
becomes in t urn a b rother t o hi s o wn si ster.”4 A t t he in stant t he f riend
becomes a b rother to t he stranger, his f raternal relation to his own sister
becomes s omehow r ealized, b ecomes o nly n ow w hat i t a lways s hould
have been. ἀ e French words pour sa propre and à son tour correspond to
nothing in the German text; they are expletives used to justify the trans‑
lators’ de cision a bout w hose si ster t his i s. Had Heidegger w ritten “seiner
eigenen Schwester,” one would know that the sister is initially related to the
stranger’s friend, and t he F rench t ranslation w ould b e a pt. H owever, t he
word eigenen is not there; neither is anything that might mean “in [his or
her] turn.” Had Heidegger w ritten “des Fremdlings . . . dessen Schwester,”
one w ould know t hat t he sister i s first o f all a si ster o f t he stranger, an d
only through him a si ster t o h er b rother’s n ew b rother. I n s hort, H ei‑
degger’s wording is ambiguous—or, as he would prefer to say, mehrdeutig,
multiple in m eaning. Yet o ne c annot g et o ver t he f eeling t hat t he si ster
is b eing m anhandled. For in b oth c ases t he si ster remains t he si ster t o a
brother, precisely as she do es in H egel’s model of t he et hical de ed in t he
nascent co mmunity (PG 318–42; G l 160–71/141–51, 184–211/163–88).
She is a si ster only by g race of t he f raternal axis. No matter w hose sister
she m ay b e ab ovo, t he b rother r emains t he axi s, t he p ivotal p oint, t he
magnetic p ole, t he ac tive a nd co ntrolling cen ter o f t he si bling r elation.
ἀ e f riend a nd b rother en ters in to r elation w ith h er—no m atter w hose
sister she is, as though in t heir confusion they were bartering for a si ster
rather t han a b ride—exclusively b y t he ac tion a nd efficacy o f t he m ale
stranger. Durch diesen erst, t hat i s, o nly t hrough t he m ale s tranger, do es
the friend become a brother to the sister: no multiplicity of meaning here.
Heidegger’s s tranger i s n ever die Fremdlingin. She w ould b e t oo s trange,
too fremd.
Or does the oddest multiplicity of meaning occur nolens volens pre‑
cisely here? When the friend and brother‑to‑be listens in o n the stranger,
whose voice does he hear? Is not the stranger’s a l unar voice? And is not
the lunar voice always and everywhere in Trakl’s poetry the Selenic voice
4. Martin Heidegger, Acheminement vers la parole, trans. Jean B eaufret, Werner Brokmeier, and
François Fédier (Paris: Gallimard, 1976), 72.
of t he si ster? I f t he s tranger “him self,” t he b oy E lis, i s l unar, monden (T

15), does n ot t he c losest o f t ies b ind si ster a nd s tranger, a nd p erhaps
something more than ties? Does not the sister incorporate everything that
is strange, including t he ext ravagant, spiriting nig ht, t he nig ht of de cline
and death—precisely as that Jünglingin, that impossible female youth? As
each of t hese figures elides w ith and emerges f rom t he other, it b ecomes
more a nd m ore difficult t o le arn h ow o ne ga ins a si ster. I f t he si ster i s
familial in relation to all that is strange, there is precisely nothing familiar
about h er. S he i s t he un canny in a ll t hat i s c anny, t he s ecret p assage t o
the (un)heimlich a s s uch. S he i s m ost un cannily lo dged in t he s tranger’s
throat, a s “hi s” l arynx, “hi s” v oice. S he, la voix, g ives h erself o ut a s h er
brother, her brother the philosopher. And everyone, including Heidegger,
thinks it is the master who is speaking.
A s econd p ossibility f or exp anding s uch q uestions, fa r m ore dif ‑
ficult o f ex ecution, w ould b e t o r ead o nce a gain t hose p ages in De la
grammatologie (DG 361–78) that deconstruct the themes of autoeroticism
and in cest in R ousseau’s Essay on the Origin of Languages. Here D errida
discusses a c hain of supplements t hat bind erotic matters to t he s cene of
writing. In a s ense, t hese er otic t hemes do minate t he en tire s econd p art
of the Grammatology, so that summarizing them here is quite impos‑
sible. Suffice it to say that something of the logic of the supplement runs
through Heidegger’s “Language in the Poem” from beginning to end, from
the very relation of “placement” and “commentary” to the two Schläge that
coin but then distort and disrupt die Geschlechter. ἀ e need to locate the
supplement outside the system and t he en tire p roblem o f t he hinge, that
is, t he im possible t rapdoor (a s in K afka’s Der Bau) b etween n ature a nd
culture, or between the pristine commencement and the “disessenced” or
decomposed Geschlecht, propels Heidegger’s text as much as it does Rous‑
seau’s. ἀ e innocence of t he first stroke is mir rored in R ousseau’s “feast,”
in t he j oyous d ance o f t he (b oy) co wherds a nd t he (g irl) wa ter b earers
at t he w ell; t he di scord o f t he s econd b low w ould b e t hat funeste hasard
that never should h ave o ccurred, but did o ccur, introducing prohibition,
temptation, violation, discord, a nd war into the play of the world. ἀ e
attempt t o exp lain—or exp lain a way—catastrophe w ould b e co mmon t o
both t exts. W hat c atastrophe? U ltimately, t he los s o f presence and o f the
origin, the disappearance of “the true cradle of the nations,” and the com‑
mencement o f a r uinous a ge, t hat o f incest p rohibition, w hich f or t he
first t ime di stinguishes b rother a nd si ster f rom t he lo vers. Yet in R ous‑
seau a s w ell t he t wo b lows c annot r eally b e di stinguished—they p aral‑
lel o ne a nother, a nd in deed t he o ne s eems t o a rise f rom t he o ther. ἀ e
“post‑originary degradation” of civilization, as Derrida says, “is analogous

to the pre‑originary repetition” (DG 377). M ight one not translate this as
the in extricability, in s pite o f H eidegger’s e very effort, o f t he t wo b lows
or s trokes in H eidegger’s p lacement o f Trakl’s p oem? I s i t n ot w ith H ei‑
degger as it is with Rousseau—that “the feast j ust as soon [straightway,
immediately, directly: aussitôt] becomes war” (ibid.)? Yet such an aussitôt
would de vastate e very h ope f or a n ew d awn t o co me in t he hi story o f
being a s Ereignis. It w ould r educe H eidegger’s “other t hinking” t o s heer
delusion—to a mere phantasm of the other.
A t hird p ossibility for advancing t hese questions, t he most difficult
of t he t hree, i s o f co urse Glas, which a nnounces amour as i ts t heme—
whether in t he column of dialectic or that of galactic—and which focuses
as much on the sister as it does on the lovers and on the question of incest.
In both cases, one is dealing (also) with Hegel, so that the mind‑bending
complexity of the dialectic is everywhere guaranteed. Yet the logic of the
cauldron too is everywhere present, as is that of the supplement: “Dialectic
of nature: nature produces the prohibition of incest by splitting away from
itself, but t his r upture w ith itself is in i ts nature, in t he nature of nature”
(Gl 224A). I t w ould b e f ruitful t o co nsider t he cir cularity o f t he un born
Geschlecht and the demise of the “disessenced” Geschlecht in terms of the
nature of nature: the unborn Geschlecht is “older” than the accursed race
of m etaphysical m an, b ut i s a lso des tined t o b e—or a t le ast i s p romised
as—its future, as though the sending of being will finally get around to
delivering t he m ail t hat s ome r enegade let ter c arrier h as s towed in hi s
cellar for millennia.
In Daimon Life, I t ranslated a p assage f rom L uce I rigaray’s co m‑
mentary on Heidegger’s placement of Trakl’s poetry in h er L’oubli de l’air:
chez Martin Heidegger. It s eemed t o m e t o p romise a wa y t o m ove f rom
questions of brother and sister to questions involving the lovers. I r epro‑
duce the passage here:
ἀ at man is heading into his decline, into the decomposition of

whatever up to now has gathered man—this he [Heidegger] has
said. At least, by way of the poet Trakl.  .  .  .  ἀ at the dusk would
offer the chance of a new dawn, that this November would offer
the h ope o f a n ew s pring t o co me, a h ope g ranted b y a gaze
that is lost in t he nig ht—this he has s aid. And again, t hat the
destiny o f t his o ther s unrise h as b een co nfided t o s omething
foreign [à l’étrange], w here a ll will b e gathered, sheltered, and
safeguarded o therwise. W here w ill t he s ojourn find a nother
site? W here w ill h abitation t ake p lace, n o lo nger o n t he si te

of hate, but in the lodgings of the only tenderness there is?
Yet i t i s in a y oung b oy, a b oy w ho i s de ad in o rder t o
safeguard a p rofound c hildhood, t hat t his s etting a nd r ising
would find t heir p ossible f uture. A y oung b oy, dem ented:
sensitized o therwise t han m an, t he o ld m an, o f t he West. A
dream t hat i s de ad a t m orningtide, a dr eam dr eamt f or t he
insurrection of spirit [de l’esprit]. Abandoned to the passageways
of an underground memory.
ἀ e apparition and evanescence of a profound childhood,
ungenerated b y t he difference b etween b oy a nd g irl, w ould
find t heir place in t he figure of an adolescent. It would b e on
the side o f m an’s h aving y et t o b e en gendered t hat a c hance
would b e r eserved f or w hat i s t o co me. Would i t s till b e o f
man [Encore de l’homme]?5
It i s c lear t hat b oth I rigaray a nd D errida a re s keptical a bout t he

chances of that dead boy, skeptical about the chance of a new dawn that is
entirely caught up in figures of the previous day and its long night. And it
is also clear that many readers—readers who no longer read Irigaray now
that s he h as b ecome es sentialist ra ther t han es sential—will b e s keptical
about her claim concerning tenderness, la tendresse, namely, that it is one
and that it bears some essential relation to woman or to the feminine, as
if s he o r i t w ere o ne. I n a ny c ase, w here w ill t he s ojourn o f h umankind
find a nother si te? W here w ill h uman h abitation t ake p lace, if i t y earns
to flee t he si te o f di scord, di ssension, a nd h ate, s eeking r espite “ in t he
lodgings of the only tenderness there is”? It is, of course, important not
to attribute such lodgings to the womb alone or to a more tranquil child‑
hood, which would be an oneiric continuation of that amniotic existence
and a p hantasmatic r eturn t o l atency. P erhaps t he only r ecourse, in a
time t hat dr eams t he dr eam ci ted in t he ex ergue o f t he p resent b ook, i s
to s eek t enderness a mong lo vers o f e very s tripe, lo vers o f e very s hape
and dim ension, lo vers o f e very p ersuasion, lo vers w ho a re p ersuaded o f
nothing other than one another.
5. Luce Irigaray, L’oubli de l’air chez Martin Heidegger (Paris: M inuit, 1983), 108–109. S ince t he
time o f Daimon Life, Irigaray’s a stonishing b ook, w hich, a s s he t old m e, s he b egan t o w rite in
late May 1976, t he moment she heard of Heidegger’s de ath, s o t hat L’oubli may b e considered a
work o f m ourning, h as b een t ranslated b y M ary B eth M ader a nd p ublished b y t he U niversity
of Texas Press.
ἀ e s ought t enderness w ould n ot sin g p aeans t o in cest. R obert

Musil’s Der Mann ohne Eigenschaften, his n ever‑completed s aga o f t he
siblings U lrich a nd A gathe, dem onstrates q uite co nvincingly t hat b roth‑
er a nd si ster w ill n ever b ecome t he S iamese t wins t hey b oth dr eam o f
becoming. Yet the tenderness between the two characters augments in the
course o f t he lo ng n ovel a nd i ts en dless s ketches t oward a co mpletion.
ἀ eirs i s a t enderness t hat do es n ot r egress t o a m ore s erene c hildhood,
not e ven w hen e very m ode o f exp ressed t enderness s eems t o b e b affled
by t he w orld. W herever t hat t enderness a rises f rom, w hatever i ts t races
in t he lives of men and women, it s eems to b e t he elixir t hat mig ht a lter
the accursed Geschlecht. Not by eliminating that Geschlecht, certainly not
by let ting i t fa ll in wa r, b ut b y b ending i t a b it, g ently. We t oday do n ot
appear t o b e finding t he f ormula f or s uch a n e lixir. Yet w e c an dr eam
and w e c an co ncoct, a nd w e c an h ope t hat o ur dr eams a nd o ur p otions
become more inventive as our hopes become more modest.
It is clear to me that from the very beginning I accepted and affirmed
Heidegger’s view that Trakl is not a Christian poet, and that even his despair
is not “Christian despair.” I did not stop to ask myself what the latter—either
a m ystery o r a n o xymoron—could p ossibly b e. B y accep ting H eidegger’s
reading I e arned t he w rath of other commentators in t he field of G erman
Studies who stressed the Christian metaphors and figures in Trakl’s poetry.
Yet I remained adamant in my apostasy, affirming Heidegger’s denial of the
Christian co ntext o f T rakl’s p oetry. A s a p ossible def ense, o ne co uld s ay
that H eidegger m ay b e r eacting t o t he emin ently “ Christian” ado ption o f
Trakl’s p oetry by t he Brenner‑Kreis, led after Ludwig von Ficker’s de ath by
Carl Dallago, an adoption so fervent and so total that critics are sometimes
driven t o s peak o f “the Trakl c hurch.” Yet Heidegger him self s ays n othing
about the Brenner circle and seems to declare Trakl’s non‑Christian status ex
cathedra, as it were. Derrida’s criticisms of Heidegger in t his respect (and I
think for once one can call them criticisms) are therefore devastating. One
only has to read a few stanzas in the volume of Trakl’s collected poems, to
read a lmost a nywhere in i t, a nd o ne w ill find a t le ast s omething li ke t he
rags a nd r emnants o f C hristian fa ith, C hristian s hame a nd gui lt, p erhaps
even Christian despair—whatever that may be. In an earlier chapter I ci ted
Trakl’s a stonishing “ Psalm,” r eprinted in A ppendix A. I n t his r espect o ne
may also cite a poem Trakl titles “Humanity,” Menschheit:
Humanity exposed to maws of fire,

A drumroll, brows of dark warriors,
Footsteps through a fog of blood; black iron reports,
Despair, night in brains that mourn:
Here the shade of Eve, the hunt, and red lucre.

Clouds pierced by light, the Last Supper.
A gentle taciturnity dwells in bread and wine
And they are gathered, twelve in number.
At night, asleep beneath the olive boughs, they cry out;
Saint ἀ omas dips his hand into the wound.
It is a “doubting ἀ omas,” to be sure, and doubtless a doubting

Georg. Yet w ho or w hat could b e m ore C hristian t han t he doubter? It i s
safe to say that Trakl’s is a Christianity that is something apart, abgeschied
en, precisely as Heidegger says. It is a lso s afe to s ay, as D errida do es say,
that Trakl do es n ot dr eam o f sim ply b anishing t hat t radition, do es n ot
dream o f b eing a ble t o s et i t a side o r le ave i t b ehind him. I f t he c loister
walls are “crowded by fairytales and legends,” one may argue into the eve‑
ning and all through the night about whether Christendom or Christianity
can b e reduced to bygone s agas. And w hen Saint ἀ omas dips his hand,
not a finger but the entire hand, it is important to know that the wound is
here called a Wundenmal, whereby Mal is a mole or a birthmark, perhaps
Melville’s “sad b irthmark,” a lso a s car, a s tigma (s ee John 20:24–29). ἀ e
one thing we may safely say is that Trakl’s Christianity has nothing to do
with certitude of sanctity, nothing to do w ith faith in s alvation; it is safer
to s ay, a s O tto B asil do es s ay, t hat C hristianity i s i tself a b aptism o f fire
for Trakl, perhaps even exp osure to a k ind o f lep rosy. ἀ e question of
Trakl’s “ Christianity” a ppears a nd r eappears t hroughout B asil’s ex cellent
monograph (OB 8–12, 135–36, and elsewhere). If Elke Lasker‑Schüler,
one of the greatest of the Expressionist poets, is right when she says that
Trakl “was surely Martin Luther,” then he is the Luther of rebellion and
wrath, but a lso t he Luther of t he d ark nig ht of t he s oul. It s eems s afe t o
say t hat Trakl’s C hristianity i s t hat o f t horns w ithout m ercy, gui lt w ith‑
out g race, sin w ithout f orgiveness; a ll t he Sorrowful Mysteries a nd n one
of t he J oyful o r G lorious. I t i s t herefore un derstandable t hat H eidegger,
agreeing w ith Friedrich G eorg Jünger, would want to resist t he efforts of
the Brenner‑Kreis to transform Trakl’s poetry into piety. Yet it is also quite
clear that, as Basil says, “the question is far from being decided” (OB 10).
If paradise is lost, and poor berated Eve is now a shade, the seekers
of paradise may head out for Otahiti, as Hölderlin once dreamt of doing,
or B orneo, a s Trakl p roposed (T 275), o r t hey m ay h ope f or s anctuary
closer t o h ome, w here in disputably a ll i s fa lling t o h uman r uin. P er‑
haps w hat i s m ost r emarkable in a ll t his i s t hat D errida, t he A lgerian
Jew w hose r elation t o hi s o wn r eligious t radition i s en tirely f raught, i s
the o ne w ho i s m ost v igilant a nd c autious co ncerning H eidegger’s t he‑
sis w ith r egard t o Trakl’s os tensible s corn f or C hristianity. H e, D errida,

will h ave b een t aught in t his r espect b y N ietzsche, t he p astor’s p rodigal
son w ho n onetheless did n ot refuse to m editate on t he extent to w hich,
as h e s ays, “ we a re s till p ious.” I ndeed, in H eidegger’s r eading o f Trakl
what i s p erhaps m ost s triking f or D errida i s n ot H eidegger’s r esistance
to Christianity but his susceptibility to stories and themes one associates
with C hrist. What is t he “more t ranquil childhood” of w hich Heidegger
dreams? “Suffer the little children to come unto me.” And can Heidegger’s
dream of a v ertical rescue of the accursed horizontal generation be any‑
thing other than the dream dreamt by what Lacan once scathingly called
“the salvationist choirs”?
ἀ e m agnetism o f G eorg Trakl him self—the p oet ra ther t han t he
poems—is not easy to explain. It is not entirely easy to be drawn to a man
who writes to hi s sister, not G retl but a nother sister, Maria, “I’m a lways
sad whenever I’m happy—isn’t that odd?” (T 262). Trakl is no doubt very
good at unhappiness. His own father tells the boy that he is drawn to suf‑
fering, has a gift for it. ἀ ere is also no doubt that the magnetism between
Georg and Gretl i s p articularly s trong in t his respect. ἀ ey form an a lli‑
ance against their parents, especially against their mother, and against the
harsh w orld. Yet G eorg i s a lso c lose t o hi s o lder si sters, M aria (“Mizzi”)
and Hermine (“Minna”). To t he l atter, in a let ter d ated O ctober 5, 1908,
he confides the following paradox—the paradox of what he calls “animal
drives” and “the ensouled ear for melodies” in his life:
I b elieve it must b e t errifying a lways t o h ave t o li ve t his way,

feeling t he f ull f orce o f a ll t he a nimal dr ives t hat c ause o ur
life t o wa llow t hrough a ll i ts p hases [ die das Leben durch die
Zeiten wälzen]. I h ave f elt t he m ost t errifying p ossibilities in
me; I have smelled, touched, and heard all the demons howling
in my blood, t he t housand de vils w ith t heir t horns t hat dr ive
the flesh to madness. What a horrifying nightmare!
Gone! T oday t his v ision o f r eality h as s unk b ack in to
nothingness again, things are remote from me now, their voice
even m ore r emote, a nd o nce a gain I e avesdrop, a ll en souled
ear, t o t he m elodies t hat a re in m e, a nd m y enra ptured e ye
once a gain dreams i ts im ages, im ages t hat a re m ore b eautiful
than any reality! I am at home with myself; I am m y world!
My whole beautiful world, full of infinite euphony. (T 261)
During the last two weeks of July 1910 Trakl complains to his friend
Erhard Buschbeck that a m ediocre poet has been mimicking his style. He
refers to “my imagistic style,” meine bildhafte Manier, “which in a s tanza of

four lines forges together four individual imagistic parts in order to form
one single impression” (T 267). Such forging is “ardent” in his own case, he
says, whereas his imitator “lacks the vital fever” (ibid.). At the same time,
he writes to Buschbeck that he can configure only the smallest portion of
the im pressions t hat s trike him (“ what a n inf ernal c haos o f r hythms a nd
images”), a nd t hat h e f eels li ke “a r isible fa ilure” w hen h e c annot m aster
these im pressions—the “ slightest ext ernal s timulus” t ransporting him t o
“cramps a nd de liria” (T 268). “ Mastery” i s s urely a mi snomer, h owever,
since i t i s a lways a m atter o f s ubordinating him self t o t he im age: “ You
have t o b elieve t hat i t i s n ot e asy f or m e, a nd n ever w ill b e e asy f or m e,
to subordinate myself unconditionally to what is to be depicted [dem Dar‑
zustellenden unterzuordnen], a nd I h ave t o co rrect m yself o ver a nd o ver
again in order to present the truth of what is indeed true” (T 274).
However devoted to Salzburg he may have been for his images, nei‑
ther Salzburg nor Innsbruck nor Vienna appeal to him as dwelling places.
A n umber o f co ntemporaries r eport t hat T rakl i s m uch m ore a t h ome
among workers and farmers t han among t he literati and t he city s ophis‑
ticates. W hereas hi s r elations w ith t he l atter a re m arked b y a s carcely
concealed disdain and disgust, the disgust doubtless hiding doubts about
himself, h e i s unfa ilingly k ind t o a nd p atient w ith t he “ common” f olk
(OB 107, 112). I f hi s m ore le arned a ssociates are m agnetized by him, h e
himself f eels dra wn t o fa rmers, h unters, a nd v illage f olk. A bove a ll, h e
is drawn to the village inn. In the fall of 1912 he writes to Buschbeck,
I s ense t hat i t i s w inter, t hat i t’s g etting co ld, b ecause o f t he

calefaction I derive from my evening wine [an der abendlichen
Weinheizung]. ἀ e day before yesterday I dra nk 10 (I t ell you:
ten!) q uarter‑liters o f r ed. A t f our in t he m orning I t ook a
moon a nd f rost b ath o n m y b alcony, a nd in t he m orning I
finally wrote a splendid poem that shivers with cold. (T 278)
Even after consuming t wo and a h alf liters of w ine, h owever, Trakl

seems never to lose control, never to slip into a maudlin or aggressive
mood; and yet his friends find him o n more than one occasion collapsed
and un conscious in t he sn ow (O B 104). ἀ e t one o f hi s let ters, in s pite
of t hat r eference t o a “ moon a nd f rost b ath,” i s s eldom j ocular. To K arl
Borromaeus Heinrich in Innsbruck he writes from Salzburg:
I’d b e s o h appy if y ou co uld co me t o Sa lzburg in M arch. My

days a re n ot e asy h ere at h ome, a nd I m uddle a long b etween
fever a nd fa int in s unny r ooms t hat a re un speakably co ld.

Odd storms of metamorphosis, felt b odily to t he p oint w here
I cannot bear them, faces of all things dark, absolutely certain
that I am dead, enraptured to the point of stony paralysis; and
dreaming on and on my mournful dreams. How dark this city
of dry rot is, full of churches and images of death. (T 288–89)
Four d ays l ater h e w rites t o L udwig v on Fic ker, “ It t errifies me t o

think h ow in r ecent d ays I ’ve b een de veloping a n in explicable h atred
toward myself, a nd h ow in t he m ost in significant a ffairs o f e veryday lif e
I s eem t o m yself t o b e u tterly g rotesque” (T 289). D uring t he s econd
week of November 1913, a y ear b efore hi s s uicide, t he s truggle s eems t o
be already over: “I have slept through 2 d ays and 2 nig hts, and still today
I’m suffering from an overdose of veronal. In my confusion and in all the
despair of recent times I n o longer know how I s hould live.  .  .  .  It seems
to m e t hat e verything w ill en d in t he d ark” (T 307). T wo w eeks l ater h e
adds, “O my G od, w hat a J udgment h as come cra shing down on me [ ist
über mich hereingebrochen]” (T 311). I n J anuary o f hi s final y ear, Trakl
writes to Karl Borromaeus Heinrich:
ἀin gs a re n ot en tirely w ell w ith m e. B etween des pair a nd

drunken s tupor I a m los t, h aven’t t he s trength t o a lter m y
position, w hich b ecomes m ore m enacing w ith e ach p assing
day, t he o nly w ish r emaining w ould b e t hat a s torm des cend
on m e a nd ei ther p urify m e o r des troy m e. O G od, t hrough
what gui lt a nd g loom w e a re m ade t o p ass. M ay w e n ot b e
defeated by it in the end. (T 313)
As a r eserve medic, he reports for duty when war is declared. Dur‑

ing the second week of September his medical unit serves at the battle of
Grodek, where the Austrian troops are routed. Many wounded, no medi‑
cine. ἀ e wounded beg him to finish them off. Trakl tells his messmates, “I
cannot live this way.” When he hurriedly quits the mess tent he confronts
a vast number of corpses hanging from the limbs of the surrounding trees.
ἀ e Austrians have taken the local Ruthenians to be Russian sympathizers.
Trakl’s messmates, fearing that he will harm himself, take his weapons
from him. On O ctober 7 h e i s s ent t o a mi litary h ospital in K rakow f or
psychiatric o bservation. On O ctober 27 h e m ails t o L udwig v on Fic ker
in I nnsbruck hi s t wo l ast p oems, “ Klage,” a nd “ Grodek.” “ I a lmost f eel
already b eyond the world,” he writes (T 324). H e adds, in a r hetoric that
seems to stem from a notary or a lawyer, “In conclusion I wish to add that
in the case of my demise it is my wish and will that my dear sister Gretl
be g iven a ll t hat I p ossess b y wa y o f m oney a nd a ll o ther o bjects.” On
November 3, 1914, at nine in the evening, he succumbs to an overdose.
Yet it is not only the war, although that would have been enough. A
particularly ac ute di stress des cends o n Trakl in M arch o f t hat final y ear.
Gretl, a fter a n a bortion t hat h as in duced ex cessive b leeding, i s c lose t o
death. G eorg t ravels t o B erlin imm ediately a nd r emains t here f rom t he
fifteenth to the twenty‑fifth of March, 1914. To Karl Borromaeus Heinrich,
on M arch 19, 1914, T rakl w rites, “A f ew d ays a go m y si ster s uffered a
miscarriage that resulted in ext raordinarily vehement hemorrhaging. Her
condition is alarming, all the more so since she has not eaten in five days”
(T 313). Two days later he writes to Ludwig von Ficker:
My poor sister is still suffering greatly. Her life is so filled with

sadness that it tears my heart; yet she is so wonderfully coura‑
geous that I o ften appear to myself to be very slight compared
to her. And she would merit a t housand times more than I t o
live w ithin a cir cle o f g ood a nd n oble h uman b eings, a fa vor
that h as b een g ranted t o m e in s uch ext raordinary m easure
whenever times were difficult.
I plan to stay for a considerable number of days in Berlin,
since my sister i s a lone all day and m y presence may be of
some use to her. (T 314)
No o ne k nows w hat t ranspires t here b etween t hem d uring t hose

ten days in B erlin, but it seems to have been decisive. It would doubtless
form t he co re s cene, t he t urning p oint, o f a dra ma co ncerning t he t wo
of them (OB 140).
What can or must be said about this sister, Margarethe, “Gretl”?
She i s t he o bject o f en dless s peculation, p recisely b ecause w e k now s o
little about her. We do n ot even know where in B erlin she is buried. It as
though her self‑destruction leads to a s econd death, her burial in a va ult
of shame and oblivion. We know that she ends her life at age twenty‑five,
three years after her brother’s death. Her husband, the Berlin bookseller
Albert Langen, has by that time left her, having realized that Gretl married
him only in o rder to support her habit. We know that she was a b rilliant
and well-trained pianist, on her way to a concert career—until the cocaine
and opium destroyed her “mechanics.” We know that she is devoted to her
brother, and that she takes the lead in hi s life in s o many ways. Someone
has t o, a s h e him self s ays, in asmuch a s h e i s o nly h alf‑born, a k ind o f

seven‑month fetus, not yet ready to face t he world. Biographers speculate
that she and G eorg have an incestuous relationship for s everal years, t he
Vienna y ears, b ut p erhaps f or m any y ears p rior t o V ienna a s w ell, a nd
that here too Gretl, five years younger than Georg, appears to have taken
the le ad—although h ow c an one p ossibly k now such a t hing? A nd, e ven
“knowing” i t, w hat c an o ne possibly understand b y it? ἀ e biographers
and literary historians would know and understand a lot more if the entire
correspondence b etween t he t wo h ad n ot b een des troyed, p resumably
by a fa mily m ember, p erhaps t he m other. A s i t i s, a ll w e h ave a re t he
phantoms of her that appear in her brother’s poems. ἀ e sister combs her
hair, p lays a S chubert s onata in t he n ext r oom, a nd s peaks co mpanion‑
ably with ghosts in the garden; she is found in an isolated forest clearing
at n oon a mid si lent a nimals, h er m outh w hispering in b lack b ranches.
ἀ e e yes o f h er w hite face s tare s trangely in s omeone’s e vil dr eams. Her
own s leep i s h eavy, p erhaps b ecause i t i s s teeped in s tormy m elancholy.
She appears as a radi ant youth—that is, as an adolescent boy—in autumn
amid black co rruption, then a s a fiery dem on w ith eyes of s tone, then
again as a p ale figure with bleeding mouth. Revealing a si lver wound, she
murmurs, “Prick, black thorn.” Her image emerges from the blue depths
of a mir ror, plunging her brother into darkness, as though he has met his
Doppelgänger in h er a nd t herefore i s a lready de ad. S he m ay b e a c hild
in t he s ummer ga rden w hom h e v iolates. Above a ll e lse s he i s “strange,”
perhaps even “foreign,” die fremde Schwester, as Trakl calls her in “Psalm,”
the alien sister who appears in someone’s evil dreams.
In t he en d, a t t he en d, o n t hat v ery first b attlefield o f World War
I, she greets t he bleeding heads of fa llen warriors—as t hough she were a
Valkyrie. I n hi s p oem t o h er, “An die S chwester,” t he p oet a ssociates h er
with e vening a nd a utumn, t he mig ration o f b irds, a nd b lue ga me. H e
marks her slight smile and the melancholy above the arc of her eyebrows.
She i s G ood F riday’s C hild, f ull o f w oe, m arked b y G od a nd s ought o ut
by the stars. Everything about her “sounds,” tönt:
To the Sister
Where you walk autumn and evening descend,
Blue deer sounding beneath the trees,
Lonely pond at evening.
Softly the flight of birds sounds,

Melancholy above the arc of your eyes.
Your slight smile sounds.
God bent the arc of your eyelids.

At night, Good Friday’s Child, stars seek
ἀ e arc of your brow.
Most persistent, beyond all the v isual im ages, b eyond e ven blue
game, i s t he s ound o f h er v oice, h er l unar v oice, die mondene Stimme,
reverberating through the “spiriting night.” Heidegger does hear this voice,
and h e co mments o n i t in “ Die S prache im G edicht,” w hereas D errida
notes i t b ut s ays li ttle a bout i t. ἀ e b rother t reads die mondenen Pfade,
“the lunar paths,” in s earch of a b rother who dies y oung or who is yet to
be b orn; a ll t he w hile, h e i s entranced by t he l unar v oice o f t he si ster. It
is a lmost a s t hough t he g hostly “ brother” o f t he p oems w ere him self a
sister; all we can be sure of is that boyishness (das Knabenhafte) in Trakl’s
life and work never dominates or absorbs das Mädchenhafte.
Heidegger recalls the way an ancient Greek p oet invokes the moon
and s tars (US 48–49), a lthough h e n eglects t o t ell u s t hat t he p oet i s
Sappho. Nor does he remind us of the lunar Geschlecht that stands at the
center o f A ristophanes’s t ale in P lato’s Symposium. In t he 1928 L eibniz
course H eidegger r efuses t o t ake A ristophanes s eriously w hen i t co mes
to questions of sexuality, even though Aristophanes begs the participants
to t ake hi s s peech in e arnest. N othing h as c hanged a bout H eidegger’s
refusal by 1953. Yet should we not remember a detail or two of the come‑
dian’s s tory? F or t hat s tory i s m eant t o exp lain τ ήν ἀ νθρωπίνην φύ σιν,
“the nature of humankind,” which in German—Schleiermacher’s German,
for exa mple—might b e t ranslated a s den Schlag des Menschengeschlechts.
Originally t here w ere t hree γ ένη, s ays A ristophanes, t he p urely m ale,
fathered by t he Helios t he s un, t he p urely f emale, m othered by Ga ia t he
earth, and an androgynous third genus, which has as its parent the moon,
σελήνη, w hich in s ome m ysterious wa y (A ristophanes do es n ot exp lain
how) “participates in both sexes” (190b 3). It is difficult to conceive (lit‑
erally) h ow ei ther t he p urely m ale o r p urely f emale c an en gender y oung
and s o co nstitute a g enuine g enus. ἀ e o nly g enus t hat m akes s ense,
generating itself generation after generation, is t he moonstruck androgy‑
nous g enus, t he H ouse o f L oonies. A s f or t he coup or frappe for w hich
Derrida is searching, Aristophanes is not wanting: when the men, women,
and a ndrogynes t ry t o s torm h eaven, Z eus s trikes a b low t hat s evers a ll
these round people in t wain; the second coup, of course, would be Zeus’s
moving their genitals around to the front, so that the halves can see what
they are looking for. One could of course go on and on, but it is enough
if we remark what a s hame it is that neither Heidegger nor Derrida takes
the t ime t o r econsider A ristophanes’s t ale—feeling p erhaps, a s A gathe
does in Der Mann ohne Eigenschaften, that t he s tory i s s o fa miliar t hat

one i s em barrassed t o m ention i t y et a gain. A nd, a fter a ll, t here i s v ery
little a bout t he m agnetism o f G eorg a nd G retl Trakl t hat len ds i tself t o
Aristophanic comedy, not when their untimely deaths mark them out for
tragedy. For the androgynes in this case are brother and sister, and Freud’s
Inzestscheu does not seem to stop them (SA 9:309–10).
Yet is it permissible to invoke psychoanalysis in t his way, as though
it too were comedy, and can one simply pronounce t he word Inzestscheu
without giving it a thought? How is psychoanalysis to be invoked, granted
that Heidegger’s allergy t o it i s not s ufficient r eason to b anish it? O tto
Basil g ives u s in sight in to H eidegger’s r esistance t o psy choanalysis, t he
insight (p aradoxical, t o b e s ure) t hat Trakl a ppears t o b e “an ide al c ase”
of neurosis, inasmuch as he embodies the fatal combination of genius and
sexual gui lt (O B 13). I t i s a ll t oo e asy, a ll t oo in evitable, t hat t he p oet
be r educed t o fa miliar psy choanalytic c ategories. H eidegger cr ies no no
no! while D errida r eplies soit—ce sont des choses qui arrivent. Yet I s us‑
pect that both Heidegger and Derrida would agree that that Georg Trakl,
together with his sister Gretl, is not an ideal case of neurosis and infantile
fixation b ut “a tragic h uman being in t he sense of a ncient tragedy” (O B
14). L ike a ll t ragedies, t he o ne in volving G eorg a nd G retl Trakl en ds in
an early death, and again we are summoned in den Untergang hinab.
As a t rained a nd practicing p harmacist, Trakl h ad knowledge of—
and acces s t o—an en tire s eries o f dr ugs: nico tine, m orphine, v eronal,
chloroform, o pium, co caine, a nd p erhaps m escaline. ἀ ese a lways in
combination w ith a lcohol. A nd a ll of t hem e ventually s hared w ith Gretl.
In other w ords, a n “ ideal c ase” f or m edical t oxicology a s w ell, t hese t wo
siblings. Georg’s experiments with cocaine, chloroform, and opium‑treat‑
ed cigarettes begin during his high school years; he introduces Gretl into
these mysteries during their years in Vienna, 1909–10, when she is seven‑
teen, h e t wenty‑two. Fin ally, o r first o f a ll, o nce a gain a lpha a nd o mega,
the sexual relationship with Gretl seems to have developed fully in Vienna.
It seems to be both a lo ving and a dep endency relationship. In the end it
is fatal to brother and sister alike (OB 15–17, 70–84). W e know that dur‑
ing t heir Vienna y ears, G retl a lso en ters in to a r elationship w ith Er hard
Buschbeck, t he c hildhood f riend o f t he t wo o f t hem; a nd w e k now t hat
at a ge t wenty s he m arries A lbert L angen, a m uch o lder m an; w e k now
too t hat G eorg, a s t hough h e w ere t he h ero in o ne o f hi s e arly p lays, i s
devastated by a despair beyond jealousy.
Otto B asil chooses a s t he t itle of t he chapter in w hich h e di scusses
Gretl herself Die Fremdlingin, t he foreign or a lien w oman, the un known
woman. A nd t hat s he cer tainly i s. A mong a ll t he c hildren, G eorg a nd

Gretl look almost exactly a like—the childhood p hotographs of t he t wo
show an extraordinary likeness. One t hinks again of Robert Musil’s “Sia‑
mese twins,” Ulrich and Agathe, in Der Mann ohne Eigenschaften. Trakl’s
poetry a nd p rose p oems r eflect t he exp erience o f t he mir ror im age t hat
is hi s si ster, of o ne s elf di ssolving into a nother, n either o ne k nowing t he
other o r t he s elf a s s uch, h owever, so t hat e ven t he gender iden tity o f
each fades, melts, or melds, the one into the other. She sometimes appears
in h er b rother’s p oetry a s t he g irl y outh, die Jünglingin, and e ven a s t he
woman m onk, die Mönchin. Of a ll t he c hildren, t hese t wo a re t he musi‑
cally gifted ones, although Gretl alone pursues the study of music. She is
well o n h er wa y t o b ecoming a co ncert p ianist, s pecializing in C hopin,
Liszt, and the Russian Romantics, studying with Paul de Conne in Vienna
and Ernst von Dohnányi in Berlin—until, after Georg’s death, the addic‑
tion a nd t he lo neliness o verwhelm h er. On N ovember 2, 1917, a fter a
pleasant evening with friends, Gretl ends her life in t he most violent way.
November 2, 1917? ἀ at w ould b e t he e ve o f G eorg’s t hird
anniversary.
As mysterious a s G retl’s life and de ath remain, O tto B asil do es n ot
hesitate t o s ay t hat e ven if G eorg’s gui lt a ppears t o m ake him t he le ad‑
ing p artner in t he r elationship, t he r everse i s p robably t he c ase. B asil
calls G retl “ by n ature a n unr estrained w oman, dr iven, demi‑daimonic,
half‑genius, a nti‑bourgeois, a nd in t he s exual r elationship p robably t he
more ac tive o ne” (O B 16). A gain, t he c aution w ould b e t hat n othing
about t heir r elationship i s r ecorded: t he o ther si blings r emain si lent, t he
mother is as incommunicative as she always is, the father dead, the letters
destroyed. At all events, Gretl is surely the more active one when it comes
to Georg’s involvements in the world; she is the one who helps him to find
employment a t “ ἀ e W hite A ngel” p harmacy a nd t he o ne w ho b olsters
his co nfidence in a ll t hings. To r epeat, f rom e arly c hildhood o n G eorg
and Gretl j oin forces against t heir mother, w ho is more interested in h er
collection o f a ntiques t han in t he c hildren, a lthough s he i s in terested
enough to be the disciplinarian in t he family. ἀ eir alliance against her is
perhaps aided by their bonne, the young Alsatian woman who is devoted
to h er c harges a nd w ho w ould lo ve t o co nvert t hem f rom P rotestantism
to her own fervent Catholicism. ἀ e Christianity of the children, although
neither H eidegger n or D errida a llude t o t his, i s f ormed in t his do uble
manner—both Protestant and Catholic, so that the children seem to have
inherited a ll t he di sadvantages o f t he t wo t raditions f or t heir li ves. B y
way o f compensation, t heir M ademoiselle g ives t hem t he g ift of French,
which b ecomes t he c hildren’s l anguage a nd l ater en ables Trakl t o a bsorb

the p oetry o f B audelaire a nd R imbaud. ἀ e de ath o f t heir a miable a nd
well‑loved father in 1910 a nd the survival of their mother constitute one
of those ironies that make up, or take down, a lif e. But to return to Gretl.
If one dare say such a t hing, this younger sister seems to be the one who
assumes the responsibilities of a lif e, Georg’s, that in hi s own view began
far too s oon, a lif e t hat could n ot gather t he s trength n eeded to face t he
world. It is as though Georg is premature throughout his life, whereas his
sister i s p rematurely m ature. K arl K raus, t hanking Trakl f or t he de dica‑
tion of “Psalm” to him, publishes the following prose text in Die Fackel:
Seven‑months’ c hildren a re t he o nly o nes w hose gaze m akes

the p arents f eel r esponsible, s o t hat t he p arents si t t here li ke
thieves caught in t he act, right next to the one they’ve robbed.
Seven‑months’ children have the gaze that demands the return
of w hat wa s t aken f rom t hem, a nd w hen t heir t hinking s ud‑
denly s huts do wn, i t i s a s t hough t hey w ere lo oking f or t he
remainder, and they gaze back in the direction of what they are
missing. ἀ ere are others who apprehend in a thoughtful way
that lo ok, b ut t heirs i s a lo ok t hat w ould li ke t o g ive b ack t o
Chaos t he ex cess they h ave ga rnered. ἀ ese are the co mplete
ones, t he o nes w ho w ere finished w hen i t wa s t oo l ate. ἀ ey
came into the world with a cr y of shame—a world that causes
them to feel only one thing, one thing first and last: Back into
your body, O Mother, where it was good! (Cited at OB 118)
Basil notes, on the basis of reports from Trakl’s contemporaries, the

poet’s f orward‑leaning wa lk, a s t hough b ent w ith os teoporosis, a nd hi s
perpetual fear of falling; notes also his unusually quiet monotone, despite
the o ccasional o utbursts; a nd do es n ot fa il t o m ention t he t imid di sdain
of hi s gaze (O B 45). P hotographs s how him t o b e s hort a nd s tocky, hi s
hair c losely cr opped in t he mi litary s tyle. H e w ears a r idiculous k nitted
cap. I f h e smi les, t he smi le s eems t enuous a nd f orced. U sually h e lets
the smi le g o. H is l ate s elf‑portrait, p ainted in t he s tudio o f hi s f riend
Oskar K okoschka, a ll g reens a nd o ranges w ith s pectral e yes, c auses u s
to w orry. H is s urviving b rothers, si sters, a nd f riends in sist n evertheless
that T rakl wa s a j ovial, f un‑loving l ad d uring hi s p readolescent y ears,
that only later did h e grow “moody, quarrelsome, arrogant, self‑assertive,
and weary of life” (OB 56). F rom puberty on, t hey s ay, a s elf‑destructive
tendency battles in him with an intense affirmation of life and Eros (OB
59). His early dramas feature a b eloved woman’s betrayal of the hero, the
hero’s jealousy, and his subsequent suicide (OB 65). H is later puppet play,
Bluebeard, pits the serial killer against the innocent thirteen‑year‑old bride
Elisabeth, b ut a s erial k iller w ho in t he en d fa lls o n hi s k nees a nd p rays
to t he cr ucifix: “He dra gs h er o ff into t he dep ths. We h ear a de afening
scream. A fter a w hile B luebeard a ppears, dr ipping w ith b lood, b esotted,
beside him self, a nd h e fa lls—as t hough f rom a r ifle shot—to hi s k nees
before a cr ucifix” (T 245). Y et w hat i s t he p enultimate ac t o f t his “ Blue‑
beard,” whom Gretl no doubt teases as “Bluebird”? We recall the letter to
von Fic ker a sking him to s ee t o i t t hat whatever w ealth h e possesses—it
is m ainly a m atter o f W ittgenstein’s g enerous g rant—in t he c ase o f hi s
demise goes to his sister Gretl.
ἀ e in s a nd o uts o f t hese b iographical r emarks—all t he “ folds” w e
see in a ny account of people’s lives, folds that dependably hide m ore than
they reveal—how unreliable and prejudicial they seem! How foolish! And
what are we t o m ake of t he p oet’s own im ages, t he im ages of hi s p oems?
What a re w e m eant t o s ee in t he a rc o f G retl’s e yebrows, b ent o r t wisted
by G od? R oberto C alasso p ictures m yths a s t he f olds o f A pollo’s c loak;
with every flick of his cloak the god alters the myth. ἀ e folds of a lif e are
surely a s co mplex a s t hose o f a m yth o r a p oem. I n t he p receding c hap‑
ter we p aused to consider t he contrast b etween Heidegger’s and D errida’s
conception o f t he “ fold,” p artly w ith r egard t o s exual difference b ut a lso
with regard to textuality. It may have seemed at that moment that Derrida’s
Mallarmé has little to do w ith Heidegger’s Trakl; it may have seemed that
the doublings and duplicities, the multiplications of the fold in M allarmé,
are more extreme t han in t he case of Trakl. After all, is not R imbaud the
proper confrere of Trakl? In spite of the sharp contours of Trakl’s images,
however, one has to affirm the multiple ways in which Trakl’s poetry folds
back upon itself and displaces a ll de cisions about meaning, e ven multiple
meanings. ἀ e poems are so precise, and yet, as Heidegger concedes, for‑
mulas fail in t he face o f them. ἀ eir folding occurs, not in s ome reflexive
way, but in s uch a wa y that the signifiers whelm the signified, or send the
referent and the meaning‑content packing, such that one experiences the
dissemination of meaning and the failure of “gathering.” As I lo ok through
the p oems s elected f or Appendices A a nd B , a nd a s I t hink b ack o n t he
impossible p roject o f t ranslating t hem, I r ecall t he f olds t hat m ake a ny
effort a t t ranslation—or, f or t hat m atter, a ny r eading—nothing s hort o f
harrowing. For when a fold runs deep it becomes an abyss.
Allow m e t o co nclude w ith s ome final r eflections o n t hose s even
themes ci ted a t t he o utset. A s f or a lpha a nd o mega, i t i s c lear in t his
uestion of magnetism that I side with Derrida: it is impossible to exclude

q
the life of t he p oet, inasmuch as t he magnetism of t he work draws us to
that lif e a s t hough t o i ts co ncealed s ource. A nd y et t he s ource r emains
concealed f or e very b iographical in quiry. We exp erience t here a k ind o f
non‑origin of origins. Whether reflection on the life enriches rather than
impoverishes our devotion to the work seems undecidable. All we can be
sure of is that the folds of a lif e are never ironed out into clear meanings
in the poetry. Or, altering the image, one can watch the iron filings dance,
but the magnetism itself one never sees.
Second, the a poria r epresented b y “commentary” a nd “ placement”
seems t o ext end fa r b eyond t he p resent c ase, n amely, H eidegger’s a nd
Derrida’s responses to Trakl. We have all suffered from commentaries that
seem to us utterly beside the point, and perhaps the only way to explain
their ir relevance i s t o admi t t hat co mmentaries o ften do n ot o ccupy t he
“place” o f t he w ork—even if , o r p recisely b ecause, t hat p lace i s a float‑
ing i sland. At t he s ame t ime, e very c laim t o si tuate o r p lace t he w ork i s
a p rime in stance o f h ubris. We a re n ever c lose en ough t o t he w ork in
all i ts facets a nd f olds t o m ake s uch a c laim t enable. On e m ay admir e
Heidegger’s t emerity, b ut o ne m ust admir e e ven m ore D errida’s dem on‑
strations o f t he h ubris. H eidegger lo ves H eraclitus’s wa rning t hat h ubris
needs to be quenched sooner than a ra ging fire; he would therefore have
to love the chief of the fire brigade, and that would be Derrida.
ἀir d, o n m ost d ays o f t he w eek w e n eed t o h ope w ith H eidegger
that p olysemy can b e contained, t hat Mehrdeutigkeit need not imply t hat
meaning dr ibbles t hrough o ur fingers. Yet t here a re d ays w hen w e h ave
to realize t hat a ll t he p oets of t he p ast t wo centuries have b een t rying to
show us w hat signifiers can do and do do, and t hat what they do m akes
the life of a thinker difficult. No matter how much we would like to reduce
or r estrain di ssemination, w e s ee i t a t w ork in e very un pronounceable
German w ord w ith m addeningly m ultiple m eanings. A nd w e s ee i t a t
work in “our” language, at least when we are paying attention.
Fourth, in a r emarkable m oment o f t he 1984–85 s eminar, D errida
confesses that in s ome sense one must think these unpronounceable Ger‑
man words in German, even if that is not “our” language. ἀ ere is untrans‑
latability. Yet precisely for that reason, one must shatter every foreclosure
of t hinking; one must t ry to t hink in m ore t han one language; one must
seek a nd le arn t o accep t t he in calculable g ifts and in sights o f other lan‑
guages. For other languages are phantoms of the other. ἀ e etymology of
words in o ur own tongue holds surprises in s tore for us, no doubt about
that; yet these shrink in comparison to the surprises that await us in other
corners o f t he s peaking w orld. To s ay n othing o f o ther li braries, o ther

archives, o ther p oems. Furthermore, a s Hölderlin k new a nd in sisted, w e
come home to our own language only after many long residences abroad.
In this regard Derrida’s life and thought seem an extraordinarily instruc‑
tive event. Inimitable but to be emulated.
Fifth, Heidegger hears the Selenic voice of the sister, the lunar voice,
but he is much more attuned to the solar voice of boyhood, des Knaben‑
haften. He does not fraternize with the sister, but he does fraternalize her,
reducing h er r ole t o t hat o f a m ere a ppendage. T rue, h e s ees t he p oet
calling o n hi s si ster ra ther t han o n G od a t t he m oment o f cr isis, b ut h e
makes no inquiry into this very new or very old deity. In the end, he feels
that if o ne i s a g ood en ough brother t o t he s tranger one w ill g et a si ster
too. Nowhere do w e have the sense that he sees—in the stranger, in E lis,
in H elian, in S ebastian—the si ster s tepping o ut o f t he b lue mir ror in to
which the poet is gazing.
Sixth, it remains entirely unclear how the theme of “the sister” and
that of “the lovers” are bound up with one another. It need not be a ques‑
tion o f in cest, o f t he p rohibition a nd t he k nown o r un known b reach—
known perhaps only as trauma and shadow. Heidegger is clearly drawn to
this t heme; o therwise, t here w ould b e n o t alk o f Geschlecht and n othing
for Derrida to write. Yet just as the lives of the two Trakl children, Georg
and G retl, r emain a lmost en tirely un known t o u s, a nd j ust a s G retl i s
unlocatable in b oth life and de ath, one h as t o confess a cer tain h elpless‑
ness w ith r egard t o b oth co mmentary a nd p lacement. H eidegger cir cles
the flame of sexual love like a m oth, protecting his wings, not getting too
close, yet unable to leave the place. For the place is geistlich, of spirit. Cer‑
tainly, in 1928 h e finds the flame of being mighty, positive in its bestrewal
of lig ht and h eat and embodiment, although h e fears the di spersion t hat
bestrewal seems inevitably to become; by 1953 he seems to want to “trans‑
mute” t he effects o f t he flame, at le ast t he effect t hat w e c all evil. It m ay
be t hat his insistence t hat Trakl and we le ave Platonism and C hristianity
behind arises f rom t he desire to t ransmute, and in s ome way to still, t he
rage of e vil. D errida, after t he incredible exp erience of having composed
Glas, in w hich s tories o f si sters, b rothers, a nd lo vers a bound, i s s urely
able t o g et m uch c loser t o t he flame. H is min ute r eading o f H eidegger’s
several strokes—even if hi s students show some impatience with it all—is
breathtaking. Never wa s t he log ic of t he s upplement s o fatal to a “ place‑
ment” a s i t i s t o Heidegger’s o f Trakl. A nd y et at t he s ame t ime D errida
shares s omething o f H eidegger’s desir e to r escue a cer tain p romise, t he
promise o f a r eduction if n ot a ces sation o f h ostilities, t he p romise o f
something ei ther v ery o ld o r v ery n ew o r b oth. W hy n ot dr eam o f a

cease‑fire b etween a nd a mong a ll t he s exes, g enders, a nd g enerations,
some o f w hich w e k now a nd m any o f w hich w e h ave n ot y et s een? ἀ e
more generous side of Derrida’s reading of “Language in t he Poem” arises
from this dream, the justification of which is that we can only dream it. It
is this mix o f generosity and fearsome critical powers that makes Derrida
one of a kind, one Geschlecht, as it were.
Seventh, nowhere is Derrida’s brilliance better demonstrated than in
his treatment of Heidegger’s allergy with regard to the “Platonic‑Christian”
interpretation of Trakl. Whereas Derrida has no interest in rescuing Trakl
for any ecclesiastical or philosophical love‑feast, he is surely interested to
see h ow T rakl’s p oetry mig ht s tretch o ur exp ectations co ncerning s uch
a f east. ἀ e si sterhood a nd uni versal h omosexuality o f hi s Jesus i s e qual
to, a nd in deed fa r s urpasses, a nything Hegel h as t o s ay in “ ἀ e S pirit o f
Christianity,” t he Phenomenology of Spirit, a nd t he l ate le ctures o n t he
philosophy o f r eligion. D errida’s in vocation o f C hrist t he S ister i s e qual
to S chelling’s m ost wa yward s peculations o n t he f emininity o f dei ty, a t
least w hen dei ty h as t he s ense t o s eek r escue f rom t he r ough s eas n ear
Samothrace. Once ashore, she feels the madness of Samothracian magne‑
tism, settles into its earths, and stays. As for Derrida’s account of despair,
whether i t b e C hristian o r u tterly un decidable, o ne h as t o admi t t hat i t
gives despair a new lease on life. One can only be grateful.
A final thought, at least for the moment. One might make the mis‑
take of thinking t hat w hereas H eidegger’s “placement” of poetry makes
a “strong s tatement,” D errida’s must b e correspondingly “ weak,” a pensa‑
mento debile, in G ianni Vattimo’s a pt a nd unf orgettable w ords. ἀ ere i s
some t ruth in t his. W hereas H eidegger b oldly p roceeds t o a p lacement
of t he un sung p oem, s uch p lacement r eflecting a lo ng‑term r elationship
with t he p oems t hemselves, D errida o ffers n o s uch in dependent r eading
of Trakl. R ather, h e r estricts him self f or t he m ost p art t o cr itical co m‑
mentary and a call for caution. Yet if Derrida is a philosopher, and he is,
his words concerning the very desire to write a philosophical text, to say
nothing o f a p hilosophical t ext t hat d ares t o co nfront a w ork o f p oetry,
must apply to himself as much as to Heidegger. In an interview taken up
into Points de suspension . . . , Derrida says:
ἀ e p hilosopher i s s omeone w hose desir e a nd a mbition a re

absolutely insane; the desire for power among the great politi‑
cians i s a bsolutely p uerile a nd min uscule a longside t he p hi‑
losopher’s desir e. ἀ e p hilosopher, in a w ork o f p hilosophy,
manifests simultaneously a p attern of mastery and a r enuncia‑

tion of mastery to an extent or scope that I find infinitely more
powerful t han w hat we s ee in o thers.  .  .  .  For m e, p hilosophy,
if I h ave t he t aste for it, i s t he c ause of t his excess; it i s out of
proportion with other types of discourses, and sometimes even
with all the rules of art. (Po 149; BP 537–38)
It perhaps for this very reason that, as Derrida says elsewhere, every
time he is confronted with a philosophical concept he feels like a fly
who i s a bout t o b e c aught in t he de adly g oo o f a s trip o f flypaper (B P
599). Hence t he c all for c aution. ἀ e t ranslator w ho approaches t he t ask
of r endering Trakl’s lin es, a long w ith t he m an o r w oman w ho w ishes t o
comment on the lives and deaths of Georg and Gretl Trakl, including the
nature of their love for one another, must approach such tasks or desires
on t hese f rantic a nd f ragile pattes de mouche. Perhaps t he t hinker w ho
boldly desires to situate or place Trakl’s poem needs to develop the same
sense of disquiet. Such disquiet, no matter how frantic and fragile, could
only strengthen the discourse of thinking.
Alpha a nd o mega? ἀ ese a re let ters, let ters o f l anguage, (t he) first
and (t he) last. In t he present instance t hey are letters of p oetic l anguage.
To which, following Heidegger and Derrida, we may now at long last turn,
trusting that Appendices A and B are not vestigial organs.
APPENDIX A
Poems Discussed in the Present Volume
Both H eidegger a nd D errida r efer t o m any m ore p oems t han a re h ere

reprinted. Yet t he f ollowing s eemed t o m e t he m ost in tensely di scussed
among them. I cite Georg Trakl, Dichtungen und Briefe, edited by Walther
Killy and Hans Szk lenar (Sa lzburg: O tto Müller Verlag, 1969–70), w hich
is b ased o n t he hi storical‑critical e dition. R eaders m ay a lso r efer t o t he
inexpensive p aperback e dition, G eorg T rakl, Das dichterische Werk, by
the s ame e ditors (Munich: D eutscher Taschenbuch Verlag, 1972). I h ave
kept t he en dnotes t o a minim um. A s f or t he o rder o f t he p oems, I h ave
followed the historical-critical edition by reprinting the poems that appear
in (1) t he 1913 Gedichte, (2) the 1914 Sebastian im Traum, (3) the poems
published in t he Brenner and Fackel journals in 1914–15, a nd (4) t he lit‑
erary r emains, o ἀen e arlier f orms o f t he p ublished p oems. M any o f t he
oddities o f s pelling a nd p unctuation in t he p oems, “corrected” in e arlier
editions, have been restored by the historical‑critical edition.
Readers will be able to locate several published collections of Trakl’s
poetry in En glish t ranslation. Without wa nting o r d aring t o s uggest a ny
criticism o f t hem, I f elt t he n eed t o t ry m y o wn h and h ere. P erhaps a
poet o f g enius w ould h ave b een a ble t o t ranslate t he s ense o f t he lin es
while p reserving t he r hymes a nd m eters o f e ach p oem. Yet w hether t he
genii of two languages ever consent to let t his happen I h ave to doubt. At
all e vents, f or t he m ost p art I h ave h ad t o let t he r hymes g o, ex cept f or
the o ccasional h appy acciden t. A nd m eters, o r r hythms? W hat c an o ne
say of t he hidden s ource of a ll p oetry? I h ave t ried to b e s ensitive to t he
meters o f m y t ranslations, b ut w ithout c laiming t hat t hey r esonate w ith
the German originals. I hope that I may be forgiven whatever li berties
are t aken b y m y o wn t ranslations, if o nly b ecause t he G erman o riginals
appear en face. In t he end one c an p erhaps agree w ith b oth D errida and
Heidegger: it is pointless to try to place Trakl’s poetry, since its places are
many and varied; and yet each of them is beyond all doubt a p lace apart.
257
258 Appendix A
An den Knaben Elis
Elis, wenn die Amsel im schwarzen Wald ruἀ,

Dieses ist dein Untergang.
Deine Lippen trinken die Kühle des blauen Felsenquells.
Laß, wenn deine Stirne leise blutet

Uralte Legenden
Und dunkle Deutung des Vogelflugs.
Du aber gehst mit weichen Schritten in die Nacht,

Die voll purpurner Trauben hängt
Und du regst die Arme schöner im Blau.
Ein Dornenbusch tönt,

Wo deine mondenen Augen sind.
O, wie lange bist, Elis, du verstorben.
Dein Leib ist eine Hyazinthe,

In die ein Mönch die wächsernen Finger taucht.
Eine schwarze Höhle ist unser Schweigen,
Daraus bisweilen ein sanἀes Tier tritt

Und langsam die schweren Lider senkt.
Auf deine Schläfen tropἀ schwarzer Tau,
Das letzte Gold verfallener Sterne.

Appendix A 259
To the Boy Elis
Elis, when the blackbird in the black wood calls,

This is your downgoing.
Your lips drink the chill of the blue source in the rocks.
Let there be, when your brow slowly bleeds,

Primeval legends
And dark readings of birdflight.1
Yet you walk with soἀ steps into the night

With clusters of purple grapes hanging
And you raise your arms more beautifully in blue.
A briar sounds
Where your lunar eyes are.
Oh, how long, Elis, since you died.
Your body is a hyacinth

Into which a monk dips his waxen fingers.
A black cavern is the silence we keep,
From which at times a tender animal emerges

And slowly lowers its drowsy lids.
Onto your temples black dew drips,
Final traces of gold from fallen stars.

260 Appendix A
Traum des Bösen

(1. Fassung)
Verhallend eines Gongs braungoldne Klänge—

Ein Liebender erwacht in schwarzen Zimmern
Die Wang’ an Flammen, die im Fenster flimmern.
Am Strome blitzen Segel, Masten, Stränge.
Ein Mönch, ein schwangres Weib dort im Gedränge.

Guitarren klimpern, rote Kittel schimmern.
Kastanien schwül in goldnem Glanz verkümmern;
Schwarz ragt der Kirchen trauriges Gepränge.
Aus bleichen Masken schaut der Geist des Bösen.

Ein Platz verdämmert grauenvoll und düster;
Am Abend regt auf Inseln sich Geflüster.
Des Vogelfluges wirre Zeichen lesen

Aussätzige, die zur Nacht vielleicht verwesen.
Im Park erblicken zitternd sich Geschwister.
Appendix A 261
Dream of Evil
(first version)
Golden brown reverberations of a gong—

A lover awakens in black rooms
His cheeks ablaze, flames flickering at the window.
On the river flash sails, masts, rigging.2
A monk, a pregnant woman there in the throng.

Guitar strings plucked, red dresses shimmer.
Chestnuts ferment in humid golden glow;
Black looms the mournful pomp of churches.
Out of pale masks the spirit of evil stares.

A townsquare darkens, menacing and somber;
In the evening on islands whispers stir.
Reading baffling signs of birdflight are

Lepers who may decay in the night.
In the park siblings gaze on one another tremblingly.
262 Appendix A
Verklärter Herbst
Gewaltig endet so das Jahr

Mit goldnem Wein und Frucht der Gärten.
Rund schweigen Wälder wunderbar
Und sind des Einsamen Gefährten.
Da sagt der Landmann: Es ist gut.

Ihr Abendglocken lang und leise
Gebt noch zum Ende frohen Mut.
Ein Vogelzug grüßt auf der Reise.
Es ist der Liebe milde Zeit.

Im Kahn den blauen Fluß hinunter
Wie schön sich Bild an Bildchen reiht—
Das geht in Ruh und Schweigen unter.
Appendix A 263
Autumn Transfigured
The year ends this way, overwhelmingly,

With golden wine and garden fruits.
Round about the woods hush wondrously
And are the lonely one’s companions.
Then the farmer says: It is good.

You bells of evening long and languid
Give us at the end some gladness.
A flock of birds on their journey greets.
It is the mild time of love.

In a skiff gliding down the blue river
How splendidly image and cameo line up—
In repose and silence all goes down.
264 Appendix A
De profundis
Es ist ein Stoppelfeld, in das ein schwarzer Regen fällt.

Es ist ein brauner Baum, der einsam dasteht.
Es ist ein Zischelwind, der leere Hütten umkreist.
Wie traurig dieser Abend.
Am Weiler vorbei
Sammelt die sanἀe Waise noch spärliche Ähren ein.
Ihre Augen weiden rund und goldig in der Dämmerung
Und ihr Schoß harrt des himmlischen Bräutigams.
Bei der Heimkehr

Fanden die Hirten den süßen Leib
Verwest im Dornenbusch.
Ein Schatten bin ich ferne finsteren Dörfern.

Gottes Schweigen
Trank ich aus dem Brunnen des Hains.
Auf meine Stirne tritt kaltes Metall

Spinnen suchen mein Herz.
Es ist ein Licht, das in meinem Mund erlöscht.
Nachts fand ich mich auf einer Heide,

Starrend von Unrat und Staub der Sterne.
Im Haselgebüsch
Klangen wieder kristallne Engel.
Appendix A 265
De Profundis
It is a stubble field where a black rain falls.

It is a brown tree standing there forlorn.
It is a hissing wind encircling empty huts.
How sad this evening.
Passing on by the hamlet

The gentle orphan girl gathers meager ears of grain.
Her eyes graze round and golden in the twilight
And her womb awaits the heavenly bridegroom.
Turning homeward
The shepherds found the sweet body
Decomposed in the briar.
A shadow am I remote from gloomy villages.

God’s silence
I drank from the font in the grove.
Cold metal touches my forehead

Spiders seek my heart.
It is a light that dies in my mouth.
At night I found myself upon a heath,

Bathed in filth and dust of stars.
In the hazel bushes,
Once again resounding, crystalline angels.
266 Appendix A
Heiterer Frühling
(2. Fassung)
1
Am Bach, der durch das gelbe Brachfeld fließt,
Zieht noch das dürre Rohr vom vorigen Jahr.
Durchs Graue gleiten Klänge wunderbar,
Vorüberweht ein Hauch von warmem Mist.
An Weiden baumeln Kätzchen sacht im Wind,

Sein traurig Lied singt träumend ein Soldat.
Ein Wiesenstreifen saust verweht und matt,
Ein Kind steht in Konturen weich und lind.
Die Birken dort, der schwarze Dornenstrauch,

Auch fliehn im Rauch Gestalten aufgelöst.
Hell Grünes blüht und anderes verwest
Und Kröten schliefen durch den jungen Lauch.
2
Dich lieb ich treu du derbe Wäscherin.
Noch trägt die Flut des Himmels goldene Last.
Ein Fischlein blitzt vorüber und verblaßt;
Ein wächsern Antlitz fließt durch Erlen hin.
In Gärten sinken Glocken lang und leis

Ein kleiner Vogel trällert wie verrückt.
Das sanἀe Korn schwillt leise und verzückt
Und Bienen sammeln noch mit ernstem Fleiß.
Komm Liebe nun zum müden Arbeitsmann!

In seine Hütte fällt ein lauer Strahl.
Der Wald strömt durch den Abend herb und fahl
Und Knospen knistern heiter dann und wann.
3
Wie scheint doch alles Werdende so krank!
Ein Fieberhauch um einen Weiler kreist;
Doch aus Gezweigen winkt ein sanἀer Geist
Und öffnet das Gemüte weit und bang.
Appendix A 267
Cloudless Spring
(second version)
1
The brook that flows through yellow fallow field
Is bordered still by last year’s desiccated reeds.
Through the gray sounds glide wondrously,
A breath of warm manure waἀs by.
Pussywillows sway gently in the wind,

A soldier sings dreamily his melancholy tune.
A strip of bare pasture is tossed by the wind,
A child stands there, soἀly outlined, gentle.
Those birches there, the black bramble,

Also shapes dissolving, fleeing in the smoke.
Bright greens blossom while others decompose
And toads slip through the verdant wild leek.
2
I love you truly you feisty washerwoman.
The tide bears still the golden burden of the sky.
A tiny fish darts by and then goes pale;
A waxen face flees through the alders.
In gardens bells fade long and languid

A small bird warbles as though quite mad.
The tender grains swell silent and enraptured
And bees still gather with earnest application.
Come love now to the weary laborer!

A beam of soἀ light invades his hut.
The forest streams brisk and bare through the evening
And buds crackle cheerfully now and then.
3
How sickly all becoming seems!
A febrile haze encircles a hamlet;
Yet from the boughs a gentle spirit signals
And opens wide and deep the heart’s core.
268 Appendix A
Ein blühender Erguß verrinnt sehr sacht

Und Ungebornes pflegt der eignen Ruh.
Die Liebenden blühn ihren Sternen zu
Und süßer fließt ihr Odem durch die Nacht.
So schmerzlich gut und wahrhaἀ ist, was lebt;

Und leise rührt dich an ein alter Stein:
Wahrlich! Ich werde immer bei euch sein.
O Mund! der durch die Silberweide bebt.
Appendix A 269
An ejaculation blooms, then quietly runs dry,

And the unborn cultivates its own repose.
The lovers blossom toward their stars
And their breath flows more sweetly through the night.
So painfully good and truthful is what lives;

And an old stone soἀly touches you:
Truly! I shall be with you always.
Oh, mouth! quivering through the silver willow.
270 Appendix A
Psalm
(2. Fassung)
Karl Kraus zugeeignet
Es ist ein Licht, das der Wind ausgelöscht hat.

Es ist ein Heidekrug, den am Nachmittag ein Betrunkener verläßt.
Es ist ein Weinberg, verbrannt und schwarz mit Löchern voll
Spinnen.
Es ist ein Raum, den sie mit Milch getüncht haben.
Der Wahnsinnige ist gestorben. Es ist eine Insel der Südsee,
Den Sonnengott zu empfangen. Man rührt die Trommeln.
Die Männer führen kriegerische Tänze auf.
Die Frauen wiegen die Hüἀen in Schlinggewächsen und
Feuerblumen,
Wenn das Meer singt. O unser verlorenes Paradies.
Die Nymphen haben die goldenen Wälder verlassen.

Man begräbt den Fremden. Dann hebt ein Flimmerregen an.
Der Sohn des Pan erscheint in Gestalt eines Erdarbeiters,
Der den Mittag am glühenden Asphalt verschläἀ.
Es sind kleine Mädchen in einem Hof in Kleidchen voll
herzzerreißender Armut!
Es sind Zimmer, erfüllt von Akkorden und Sonaten.
Es sind S chatten, die sic h vor einem erblindeten Spiegel um armen.
An den Fenstern des Spitals wärmen sich Genesende.
Ein weißer Dampfer am Kanal trägt blutige Seuchen herauf.
Die fremde Schwester erscheint wieder in j emands bösen Träumen.

Ruhend im Haselgebüsch spielt sie mit seinen Sternen.
Der Student, vielleicht ein Doppelgänger, schaut ihr lange vom
Fenster nach.
Hinter ihm steht sein toter Bruder, oder er geht die alte
Wendeltreppe herab.
Im Dunkel brauner Kastanien verblaßt die Gestalt des jungen Novizen.
Der Garten ist im Abend. Im Kreuzgang flattern die Fledermäuse
umher.
Die Kinder des Hausmeisters hören zu spielen auf und suchen das
Gold des Himmels.
Appendix A 271
Psalm3
(second version)
Dedicated to Karl Kraus
It is a light extinguished by the wind.

It is a country inn abandoned by a drunkard of an
aἀernoon.
It is a vineyard scorched and black with holes full of spiders.
It is a room they have whitewashed with milk.
The madman is dead. It is a South Sea island,
To receive the sungod. They beat the drums.
The men perform their war dances.
The women wrap their hips in grass skirts and passion
flowers
When the sea sings. Oh, our lost paradise.
The nymphs have quit the golden woods.

The stranger is buried. Then a glittering rain sets in.
The Son of Pan appears in the form of a ditchdigger
Who lies asleep at noon on the glowing asphalt.
It is a group of little girls in the courtyard dressed in
heartrending poverty!
It is rooms reverberating with chords and sonatas.
It is shadows embracing before a mirror gone blind.
At hospital windows convalescents warm themselves.
A w hite s teamer in t he c anal t ransports b lood red p estilence.
The strange sister appears again in someone’s evil dreams.

Resting in the hazels she plays with his stars.
The student, perhaps a Doppelgänger, gazes at her from his
window.
Behind him stands his dead brother, or he descends the old
spiral staircase.
In the dark beneath brown chestnuts the figure of the young
seminarian goes pale.
The garden has gone to evening. In the cloister bats flit.
The caretaker’s children cease their play and seek the gold of
the sky.
272 Appendix A
Endakkorde eines Quartetts. Die kleine Blinde läuἀ zitternd durch

die Allee,
Und später tastet ihr Schatten an kalten Mauern hin, umgeben
von Märchen und heiligen Legenden.
Es ist ein leeres Boot, das am Abend den schwarzen Kanal heruntertreibt.
In der Düsternis des alten Asyls verfallen menschliche Ruinen.
Die toten Waisen liegen an der Gartenmauer.
Aus grauen Zimmern treten Engel mit kotgefleckten Flügeln.
Würmer tropfen von ihren vergilbten Lidern.
Der Platz vor der Kirche ist finster und schweigsam, wie in den
Tagen der Kindheit.
Auf silbernen Sohlen gleiten frühere Leben vorbei
Und die Schatten der Verdammten steigen zu den seufzenden
Wassern nieder.
In seinem Grab spielt der weiße Magier mit seinen Schlangen.
Schweigsam über der Schädelstätte öffnen sich Gottes goldene

Augen.
Appendix A 273
Concluding chords of a quartet. The blind girl, shivering,

hurries through the lane,
And later her shadow gropes its way along chilly walls,
surrounded by fairy tales and holy legends.
It is an empty boat making its way at evening down the

black canal.
In the gloom of the old age home human ruins collapse.
The dead orphans lie buried along the garden wall.
Angels emerge from gray rooms, their wings flecked with filth.
Worms drop from their yellowed eyelids.
The church square is grimly dark and silent, as it was in
childhood days.
On silver footsoles earlier lives glide by
And the shadows of the damned descend to sighing waters.
In his grave the white sorcerer plays with his serpents.
Silently over the Place of the Skull open God’s golden eyes.
274 Appendix A
Stundenlied
Mit dunklen Blicken sehen sich die Liebenden an,

Die Blonden, Strahlenden. In starrender Finsternis
Umschlingen schmächtig sich die sehnenden Arme.
Purpurn zerbrach der Gesegneten Mund. Die runden Augen

Spiegeln das dunkle Gold des Frühlingsnachmittags,
Saum und Schwärze des Walds, Abendängste im Grün;
Vielleicht unsäglichen Vogelflug, des Ungeborenen
Pfad an finsteren Dörfern, einsamen Sommern hin
Und aus verfallener Bläue tritt bisweilen ein Abgelebtes.
Leise rauscht im Acker das gelbe Korn.

Hart ist das Leben und stählern schwingt die Sense der
Landmann,
Fügt gewaltige Balken der Zimmermann.
Purpurn färbt sich das Laub im Herbst; der mönchische Geist

Durchwandelt heitere Tage; reif ist die Traube
Und festlich die Luἀ in geräumigen Höfen.
Süßer duἀen vergilbte Früchte; leise ist das Lachen
Des Frohen, Musik und Tanz in schattigen Kellern;
Im dämmernden Garten Schritt und Stille des verstorbenen
Knaben.
Appendix A 275
Song of the Hours4
With darkling looks the lovers gaze on one another,

Blond, beaming. In all‑pervading gloom
Their longing arms languorously entwine.
The mouth of the blessed ones shattered in purple. Their

round eyes
Mirror the dark gold of the springtime aἀernoon,
Rim and blackness of the woods, evening anxieties in the green;
Perhaps an unspeakable flight of birds, path of the
Unborn at gloomy villages, the length of lonely summers
And now and then from decaying haze of blue emerges
something no longer alive.
The yellow grain in the field rustles soἀly.

Life is hard and the steeled farmer swings his scythe,
The builder joins massive beams.
The leaves go purple in autumn; the monastic spirit

Traverses cloudless days; the grape is ripe
And the air festive in spacious courtyards.
Sweeter still smell yellowed fruits; soἀ is the laughter
Of the glad one, music and dance in shaded cellars;
In the twilit garden footfall and silence of the boy who died.
276 Appendix A
Unterwegs
Am Abend trugen sie den Fremden in die Totenkammer;

Ein Duἀ von Teer; das leise Rauschen roter Platanen;
Der dunkle Flug der Dohlen; am Platz zog eine Wache auf.
Die Sonne ist in schwarze Linnen gesunken; immer wieder
kehrt dieser vergangene Abend.
Im Nebenzimmer spielt die Schwester eine Sonate von Schubert.
Sehr leise sinkt ihr Lächeln in den verfallenen Brunnen,
Der bläulich in der Dämmerung rauscht. O, wie alt ist unser
Geschlecht.
Jemand flüstert drunten im Garten; jemand hat diesen
schwarzen Himmel verlassen.
Auf der Kommode duἀen Äpfel. Großmutter zündet goldene
Kerzen an.
O, wie mild ist der Herbst. Leise klingen unsere Schritte im

alten Park
Unter hohen Bäumen. O, wie ernst ist das hyazinthene
Antlitz der Dämmerung.
Der blaue Quell zu deinen Füßen, geheimnisvoll die rote
Stille deines Munds,
Umdüstert vom Schlummer des Laubs, dem dunklen Gold
verfallener Sonnenblumen.
Deine Lider sind schwer von Mohn und träumen leise auf
meiner Stirne.
Sanἀe Glocken durchzittern die Brust. Eine blaue Wolke
Ist dein Antlitz auf mich gesunken in der Dämmerung.
Ein Lied zur G uitarre, das in ein er fremden Schenke erklingt,

Die wilden Holunderbüsche dort, ein lang vergangener
Novembertag,
Vertraute Schritte auf der dämmernden Stiege, der Anblick
gebräunter Balken,
Ein offenes Fenster, an dem ein süßes Hoffen zurückblieb—
Unsäglich ist das alles, o Gott, daß man erschüttert ins Knie
bricht.
O, wie dunkel ist diese Nacht. Eine purpurne Flamme

Erlosch an meinem Mund. In der Stille
Erstirbt der bangen Seele einsames Saitenspiel.
Laß, wenn trunken von Wein das Haupt in die Gosse sinkt.
Appendix A 277
On the Way
In the evening they carried the stranger to his death chamber;

An odor of tar; the soἀ rustling of red plane trees;
The dark flight of jackdaws; in the square the nightwatch
took up his post.
The sun has set in black linens; this past evening recurs
again and again.
In the next room the sister is playing a Schubert sonata.
Very quietly her smile sinks into the dilapidated fountain
Which at dusk murmurs in shades of blue. Oh, how ancient
is our House.
Someone whispers down in the garden; someone has
abandoned this black sky.
On the dresser the smell of apples. Grandmother lights the
golden candles.
Oh, how mild the autumn is. Our footsteps in the old park
sound soἀly
Under loἀy trees. Oh, how earnest is the hyacinthine face of
twilight.
The blue source at your feet, mysterious the red stillness of
your mouth,
Shadowed by the slumber of leaves, the dark gold of
desiccated sunflowers.
Your e yelids a re h eavy w ith p oppy a nd dr eam lig htly o n m y
brow.
Gentle bells quiver in the breast. A blue cloud
Is your countenance descending on me at twilight.
A song with guitar echoing at an unknown tavern,

The wild elderberry bushes there, a November day long gone by,
Familiar footsteps on the ascent at twilight, a view of
brownstained beams,
An open window where a cherished hope still clung—
Unspeakable are all these things, O God; shattered, one falls
to one’s knees.
Oh, how dark this night is. A purple flame

Was snuffed at my mouth. In the silence
Dies the lonely thrum of strings in a troubled soul.
Let that be, when drunk with wine the head sinks into the gutter.
278 Appendix A
Ein Winterabend
(2. Fassung)
Wenn der Schnee ans Fenster fällt,

Lang die Abendglocke läutet,
Vielen ist der Tisch bereitet
Und das Haus ist wohlbestellt.
Mancher auf der Wanderschaἀ

Kommt ans Tor auf dunklen Pfaden.
Golden blüht der Baum der Gnaden
Aus der Erde kühlem Saἀ.
Wanderer tritt still herein;

Schmerz versteinerte die Schwelle.
Da erglänzt in reiner Helle
Auf dem Tische Brot und Wein.
Appendix A 279
A Winter’s Eve
(second version)
When snow falls against the window,

Long tolls the vesper bell,
For many the table is laid
And the house is in good order.
Many a one who wanders

On dark paths arrives at the gate.
Golden blooms the tree of grace
Out of the earth’s cool sap.
Wanderer, enter quietly;

Pain turned the threshold to stone.
Glistening there in pristine light
On the table bread and wine.5
280 Appendix A
Die Verfluchten
1
Es dämmert. Zum Brunnen gehn die alten Fraun.
Im Dunkel der Kastanien lacht ein Rot.
Aus einem Laden rinnt ein Duἀ von Brot
Und Sonnenblumen sinken übern Zaun.
Am Fluß die Schenke tönt noch lau und leis.

Guitarre summt; ein Klimperklang von Geld.
Ein Heiligenschein auf jene Kleine fällt,
Die vor der Glastür wartet sanἀ und weiß.
O! blauer Glanz, den sie in Scheiben weckt,

Umrahmt von Dornen, schwarz und starrverzückt.
Ein krummer Schreiber lächelt wie verrückt
Ins Wasser, das ein wilder Aufruhr schreckt.
2
Am Abend säumt die Pest ihr blau Gewand
Und leise schließt die Tür ein finstrer Gast.
Durchs Fenster sinkt des Ahorns schwarze Last;
Ein Knabe legt die Stirn in ihre Hand.
Oἀ sinken ihre Lider bös und schwer.

Des Kindes Hände rinnen durch ihr Haar
Und seine Tränen stürzen heiß und klar
In ihre Augenhöhlen schwarz und leer.
Ein Nest von scharlachfarbnen Schlangen bäumt

Sich träg in ihrem aufgewühlten Schoß.
Die Arme lassen ein Erstorbenes los,
Das eines Teppichs Traurigkeit umsäumt.
3
Ins braune Gärtchen tönt ein Glockenspiel.
Im Dunkel der Kastanien schwebt ein Blau,
Der süße Mantel einer fremden Frau.
Resedenduἀ; und glühendes Gefühl
Appendix A 281
The Accursed
1
Twilight falls. The old women walk to the well.
In the dark of chestnuts a laughing red.
From a shop streams a fragrance of bread
And sunflowers droop over the fence.
Noises at the riverside tavern now soἀ and faint.

A guitar strum; a jingling of coins.
A halo descends over that little girl there
Who waits, tender and white, before the glass door.
Oh! the blue luster she rouses in panes,

Framed by thorns, black and enraptured, motionless.
A wizened scrivener smiles like a madman
In waters terrified by wild tumult.
2
In the evening Plague hems her blue garment
And a gloomy guest quietly closes the door.
Through the window the maple’s black burden sinks;
A boy lays his brow in her hand.
Oἀen her eyelids close malevolent and leaden.

The child’s hands run through her hair
And its tears plunge hot and clear
Into the sockets of her eyes black and bare.
A nest of scarlet snakes writhes

Languidly in her burrowed womb.
The arms release something lifeless
That hems a mournful tapestry.
3
The play of bells invades a small brown garden.
A blue hovers in the dark of chestnut trees,
The sweet cloak of a foreign woman.
Fragrance of Reseda6; and the ardent feeling
282 Appendix A
Des Bösen. Die feuchte Stirn beugt kalt und bleich

Sich über Unrat, drin die Ratte wühlt,
Vom Scharlachglanz der Sterne lau umspült;
Im Garten fallen Äpfel dumpf und weich.
Die Nacht ist schwarz. Gespenstisch bläht der Föhn

Des wandelnden Knaben weißes Schlafgewand
Und leise greiἀ in seinen Mund die Hand
Der Toten. Sonja lächelt sanἀ und schön.
Appendix A 283
Of evil. The moist brow bends cold and pale

Over filth where a rat is burrowing,
Warmly rinsed by the scarlet glow of stars;
In the garden apples fall dully, soἀly.
The night is black. Warm air inflates ghostily

The white nightdress of the somnambulant boy
And soἀly reaching into his mouth is the hand
Of the dead. Tenderly, beautifully, Sonia smiles.7
284 Appendix A
Herbstseele
(2. Fassung)
Jägerruf und Blutgebell;

Hinter Kreuz und braunem Hügel
Blindet sacht der Weiherspiegel,
Schreit der Habicht hart und hell.
Über Stoppelfeld und Pfad

Banget schon ein schwarzes Schweigen;
Reiner Himmel in den Zweigen;
Nur der Bach rinnt still und stad.
Bald entgleitet Fisch und Wild.

Blaue Seele, dunkles Wandern
Schied uns bald von Lieben, Andern.
Abend wechselt Sinn und Bild.
Rechten Lebens Brot und Wein,

Gott in deine milden Hände
Legt der Mensch das dunkle Ende,
Alle Schuld und rote Pein.
Appendix A 285
Autumn Soul
(second version)
Hunter’s call and bloodhound’s bark;

Behind crucifix and brown hill
The pond’s reflection gently blinding,
The hawk cries harsh and bright.
Above stubble field and path

A black silence already feels fear;
Clear sky seen through the boughs;
The brook alone streams soἀ and steady.
Soon fish and game glide away.

Blue soul, darkling voyage
Soon severed us from loved ones, others.
Evening alters sense and image.
Bread and wine of life lived well,

God into your mild hands
The human lays its dark ending,
All guilt and blood red pain.
286 Appendix A
Ruh und Schweigen
Hirten begruben die Sonne im kahlen Wald.

Ein Fischer zog
In härenem Netz den Mond aus frierendem Weiher.
In blauem Kristall
Wohnt der bleiche Mensch, die Wang’ an seine Sterne gelehnt;
Oder es neigt das Haupt in purpurnem Schlaf.
Doch immer rührt der schwarze Flug der Vögel

Den Schauenden, das Heilige blauer Blumen,
Denkt die nahe Stille Vergessenes, erloschene Engel.
Wieder nachtet die Stirne in mondenem Gestein;

Ein strahlender Jüngling
Erscheint die Schwester in Herbst und schwarzer Verwesung.
Appendix A 287
Repose and Silence
Shepherds buried the sun in the barren wood.

A fisherman drew the moon
In a woven net from the freezing weir.
In blue crystal
The pallid man dwells, his cheek leaning on his stars;
Or his head droops slowly in purple slumber.
Yet always the black flight of birds touches

The one who sees, the holiness of blue blossoms,
The close stillness thinks things forgotten, extinguished angels.
Once again the brow is benighted in lunar stone;

A beaming youth
The sister appears in autumn and black decomposition.
288 Appendix A
An einen Frühverstorbenen
O, der schwarze Engel, der leise aus dem Innern des Baums trat,
Da wir sanἀe Gespielen am Abend waren,
Am Rand des bläulichen Brunnens.
Ruhig war unser Schritt, die runden Augen in der braunen
Kühle des Herbstes,
O, die purpurne Süße der Sterne.
Jener aber ging die s teinernen Stufen des M önchsbergs hinab,

Ein blaues Lächeln im Antlitz und seltsam verpuppt
In seine stillere Kindheit und starb;
Und im Garten blieb das silberne Antlitz des Freundes zurück,
Lauschend im Laub oder im alten Gestein.
Seele sang den Tod, die grüne Verwesung des Fleisches

Und es war das Rauschen des Walds,
Die inbrünstige Klage des Wildes.
Immer klangen von dämmernden Türmen die blauen
Glocken des Abends.
Stunde kam, da jener die Schatten in purpurner Sonne sah,

Die Schatten der Fäulnis in kahlem Geäst;
Abend, da an dämmernder Mauer die Amsel sang,
Der Geist des Frühverstorbenen stille im Zimmer erschien.
O, das Blut, das aus der Kehle des Tönenden rinnt,

Blaue Blume; o die feurige Träne
Geweint in die Nacht.
Goldene Wolke und Zeit. In einsamer Kammer

Lädst du öἀer den Toten zu Gast,
Wandelst in trautem Gespräch unter Ulmen den grünen
Fluß hinab.
Appendix A 289
To One Who Died Young
Oh, the black angel that slowly emerged from the pith of
the tree,
When we were gentle playmates in the evening,
At the edge of the fountain in blue haze.
Our step unrushed, our eyes round in the brown chill of
autumn,
Oh, the purple sweetness of stars.
Yet that one descended the stony steps of the Mönchsberg,

A blue smile on his countenance, and strangely he
metamorphosed
Into his more serene childhood and died;
And in the garden, leἀ behind, the silver countenance of the
friend,
Eavesdropping among the leaves or old stones.
Soul sang the death, the green decomposing of the flesh

And there was the rustling of the forest,
The intense lament of wild animal.
Always sounding from twilit towers the blue vesper bells.
Hour came when that one saw the shadows in the purple
sun,
The shadows of foulness in barren boughs;
Evening, when the blackbird sang at the twilit wall,
The spirit of the one who died young appeared silently in
the room.
Oh, the blood that flows from the throat of the sounding one,
Blue blossom; oh, the furious tear
Wept into the night.
Golden cloud and time. In a lonely chamber

You oἀen invite the dead one to be your guest,
You walk in intimate converse under elms along the green
river.
290 Appendix A
Geistliche Dämmerung
(2. Fassung)
Stille begegnet am Saum des Waldes

Ein dunkles Wild;
Am Hügel endet leise der Abendwind,
Verstummt die Klage der Amsel,

Und die sanἀen Flöten des Herbstes
Schweigen im Rohr.
Auf schwarzer Wolke

Befährst du trunken von Mohn
Den nächtigen Weiher,
Den Sternenhimmel.
Immer tönt der Schwester mondene Stimme
Durch die geistliche Nacht.
Appendix A 291
Spiriting Twilight
(second version)
Stillness encounters at forest rim

A dusky deer;
On the hill the evening wind abates,
The blackbird’s lament grows mute,

And the autumn’s gentle flutings
Go silent in the reed.
On a black cloud
You ride drunk with poppy
The nocturnal pond,
The star‑filled sky.

Ceaselessly sounds the sister’s lunar voice
Through the spiriting night.
292 Appendix A
Abendländisches Lied
O der Seele nächtlicher Flügelschlag:

Hirten gingen wir einst an dämmernden Wäldern hin
Und es folgte das rote Wild, die grüne Blume und der lallende
Quell
Demutsvoll. O, der uralte Ton des Heimchens,
Blut blühend am Opferstein
Und der Schrei des einsamen Vogels über der grünen Stille
des Teichs.
O, ihr Kreuzzüge und glühenden Martern

Des Fleisches, Fallen purpurner Früchte
Im Abendgarten, wo vor Zeiten die frommen Jünger gegangen,
Kriegsleute nun, erwachend aus Wunden und Sternenträumen.
O, das sanἀe Zyanenbündel der Nacht.
O, ihr Zeiten der Stille und goldener Herbste,

Da wir friedliche Mönche die purpurne Traube gekeltert;
Und rings erglänzten Hügel und Wald.
O, ihr Jagden und Schlösser; Ruh des Abends,
Da in seiner Kammer der Mensch Gerechtes sann,
In stummem Gebet um Gottes lebendiges Haupt rang.
O, die bittere Stunde des Untergangs,

Da wir ein steinernes Antlitz in schwarzen Wassern beschaun.
Und der süße Gesang der Auferstandenen.
Appendix A 293
Western Song
Oh, the soul’s nocturnal wing beat:

Once we shepherds walked near twilit forests
With the red deer, the green flower, and the purling font
pursuing
Humbly. Oh, the primeval sound of the cricket,
Blood blossoming on the sacrificial stone
And the cry of the lonely bird above the pond’s green stillness.
Oh, you Crusades and ardent martyrdoms

Of the flesh; purple fruits falling
In the evening garden, where long ago the pious apostles
walked,
Warriors now, waking from wounds and dreams of stars.
Oh, the gentle cornflower cluster of the night.
Oh, you times of stillness and golden autumns,

When we peaceful monks pressed the purple grape;
And all around us glistened hill and wood.
Oh, you hunting parties, you castles; evening’s repose,
When in their chambers human beings pondered righteousness,
Beseeching in silent prayer the living head of God.
Oh, the bitter hour of downfall,

When we gaze on a stony face in black waters.
One House. Incense streams from pillows all roses
294 Appendix A
Siebengesang des Todes
Bläulich dämmert der Frühling; unter saugenden Bäumen

Wandert ein Dunkles in Abend und Untergang,
Lauschend der sanἀen Klage der Amsel.
Schweigend erscheint die Nacht, ein blutendes Wild,
Das langsam hinsinkt am Hügel.
In feuchter Luἀ schwankt blühendes Apfelgezweig,

Löst silbern sich Verschlungenes,
Hinsterbend aus nächtigen Augen; fallende Sterne;
Sanἀer Gesang der Kindheit.
Erscheinender stieg der Schläfer den schwarzen Wald hinab,

Und es rauschte ein blauer Quell im Grund,
Daß jener leise die bleichen Lider aufhob
Über sein schneeiges Antlitz;
Und es jagte der Mond ein rotes Tier

Aus seiner Höhle;
Und es starb in Seufzern die dunkle Klage der Frauen.
Strahlender hob die Hände zu seinem Stern

Der weiße Fremdling;
Schweigend verläßt ein Totes das verfallene Haus.
O des Menschen verweste Gestalt: gefügt aus kalten Metallen,

Nacht und Schrecken versunkener Wälder
Und der sengenden Wildnis des Tiers;
Windesstille der Seele.
Auf schwärzlichem Kahn fuhr jener schimmernde Ströme hinab,

Purpurner Sterne voll, und es sank
Friedlich das ergrünte Gezweig auf ihn,
Mohn aus silberner Wolke.
Appendix A 295
Septet of Death
Spring dawns in blue haze; beneath suckling trees

Something dark wanders in evening and decline,
Rapt to the blackbird’s gentle lamentation.
Night silently appears, a bleeding deer
That slowly sinks on the hillside.
In humid air blossoming apple branches sway,

Something clasping ravels in silver,
Fainting in nocturnal eyes; falling stars;
Gentle song of childhood.
In greater splendor the sleeper descended the black wood,

And a blue source purled in the valley below,
So that he slowly raised the pallid eyelids
Of his snowy countenance;
And the moon flushed a red animal

From its den;
And the dark lament of women died down to sighs.
More radiantly, raising his hands to his star,

The white stranger;
Silently something dead abandons the ruined house.
Oh, the decomposed figure of humankind: joined of cold metals,

Night and terror of sunken forests,
And the singeing savagery of the animal;
Doldrums of the soul.
On a black skiff he glided down shimmering streams,

Full of purple stars, and bending down
To brush him tranquilly were the budding branches,
Poppy from a silver cloud.
296 Appendix A
Sommersneige

Geworden, dein kristallenes Antlitz.
Am Abendweiher starben die Blumen,
Ein erschrockener Amselruf.
Vergebliche Hoffnung des Lebens. Schon rüstet

Zur Reise sich die Schwalbe im Haus
Und die Sonne versinkt am Hügel;
Schon winkt zur Sternenreise die Nacht.
Stille der Dörfer; es tönen rings

Die verlassenen Wälder. Herz,
Neige dich nun liebender
Über die ruhige Schläferin.

Geworden und es läutet der Schritt
Des Fremdlings durch die silberne Nacht.
Gedächte ein blaues Wild seines Pfads,
Des Wohllauts seiner geistlichen Jahre!

Appendix A 297
Summer Inclines to Its End8

Quiet, your crystalline face.
At the weir in the evening the flowers wilted.
A startled blackbird’s cry.
Vain hope of life. Already preparing

For the journey is the swallow of the house
And the sun is sinking behind the hill;
Already the night invites a star journey.
Villages hushed; around them the sounds

Of abandoned forests. Heart,
Incline more lovingly now
Over the woman sleeping peacefully.

Quiet and the stranger’s footfall
Rings through the silvery night.
Were a blue deer to remember its path,
The consonance of its spiriting years!

298 Appendix A
Jahr
Dunkle Stille der Kindheit. Unter grünenden Eschen

Weidet die Sanἀmut bläulichen Blickes; goldene Ruh.
Ein Dunkles entzückt der Duἀ der Veilchen; schwankende
Ähren
Im Abend, Samen und die goldenen Schatten der Schwermut.
Balken behaut der Zimmermann; im dämmernden Grund
Mahlt die Mühle; im Hasellaub wölbt sich ein purpurner
Mund,
Männliches rot über schweigende Wasser geneigt.
Leise ist der Herbst, der Geist des Waldes; goldene Wolke
Folgt dem Einsamen, der schwarze Schatten des Enkels.
Neige in steinernem Zimmer; unter alten Zypressen
Sind der Tränen nächtige Bilder zum Quell versammelt;
Goldenes Auge des Anbeginns, dunkle Geduld des Endes.
Appendix A 299
Year
Dark stillness of childhood. Beneath the greening ash trees

The gentleness of an azure gaze browses; golden repose.
The fragrance of violets entrances something dark; ears of
grain sway
In the evening, seed and the golden shadows of melancholy.
The joiner hacks away at beams; deep in the twilit valley
The mill grinds grain; among hazel leaves a purple mouth
opens,
A manly red bent over waters that say not a word.
Tranquil is the autumn, the spirit of the wood; golden cloud
Follows the lonely one, the black shadow of the grandchild.
Waning in the stony room; beneath old cypresses
Nocturnal images of tears have gathered to a source;
Golden eye of commencement, dark patience of the end.
300 Appendix A
Frühling der Seele
Aufschrei im Schlaf; durch schwarze Gassen stürzt der Wind,

Das Blau des Frühlings winkt durch brechendes Geäst,
Purpurner Nachttau und es erlöschen rings die Sterne.
Grünlich dämmert der Fluß, silbern die alten Alleen
Und die Türme der Stadt. O sanἀe Trunkenheit
Im gleitenden Kahn und die dunklen Rufe der Amsel
In kindlichen Gärten. Schon lichtet sich der rosige Flor.
Feierlich rauschen die Wasser. O die feuchten Schatten der Au,

Das schreitende Tier; Grünendes, Blütengezweig
Rührt die kristallene Stirne; schimmernder Schaukelkahn.
Leise tönt die Sonne im Rosengewölk am Hügel.
Groß ist die Stille des Tannenwalds, die ernsten Schatten am
Fluß.
Reinheit! R einheit! Wo sin d die f urchtbaren Pfade des T odes,

Des grauen steinernen Schweigens, die Felsen der Nacht
Und die friedlosen Schatten? Strahlender Sonnenabgrund.
Schwester, da ich dich fand an einsamer Lichtung

Des Waldes und Mittag war und groß das Schweigen des Tiers;
Weiße unter wilder Eiche, und es blühte silbern der Dorn.
Gewaltiges Sterben und die singende Flamme im Herzen.
Dunkler umfließen die Wasser die s chönen Spiele der Fi sche.

Stunde der Trauer, schweigender Anblick der Sonne;
Es ist die Seele ein Fremdes auf Erden. Geistlich dämmert
Bläue über dem verhauenen Wald und es läutet
Lange eine dunkle Glocke im Dorf; friedlich Geleit.
Stille blüht die Myrthe über den weißen Lidern des Toten.
Leise tönen die Wasser im sinkenden Nachmittag

Und es grünet dunkler die Wildnis am Ufer, Freude im
rosigen Wind;
Der sanἀe Gesang des Bruders am Abendhügel.
Appendix A 301
Springtime of the Soul
A scream while sleeping; the wind surges in black alleyways,

The blue of spring signals through breaking branches,
Purple dew of night and all about the stars go out.
The river glows a dusky green, silver the ancient avenues
And the towers of the city. Oh, soἀ inebriation
In the gliding skiff and the blackbird’s dark calls
In the gardens of childhood. Already the blooms are lit in rose.
Waters purl solemnly. Oh, the meadow’s moist shadows,

The pacing animal; all grows green, blossoming branch
Touches the crystalline brow; shimmering bobbing bark,
Soἀly sounds the sun in clouds of rose upon the hill.
Vast the silence in t he pinewood, earnest shadows at the river.
Purity! Purity! Where are the terrifying paths of death,

Of the gray stony silence, where the cliffs of night
And the restive shadows? Beaming abyss of sun.
Sister, when I found you in a lonely clearing

Of the wood and it was noon and vast the animal’s silence;
White light beneath the wild oak, and silver bloomed the
thorn.
Violent dying and the flame singing in my heart.
The waters flow more darkly about the lovely play of fish.
Hour of mourning, silent glimpse of the sun;
Something strange is the soul on earth. Spiriting twilight
In a blue haze over the clearcut forest and the long
Tolling of a dark bell in the village; peaceful guardian.
Silently the myrtle blooms above the white eyelids of the
dead one.
Soἀly sound the waters in the sinking aἀernoon,

And greens darken in the bank’s wild growth, joy in a wind
all roses;
The gentle song of the brother on the evening hill.
302 Appendix A
Gesang des Abgeschiedenen
An Karl Borromaeus Heinrich
Voll Harmonien ist der Flug der Vögel. Es haben die grünen
Wälder
Am Abend sich zu stilleren Hütten versammelt;
Die kristallenen Weiden des Rehs.
Dunkles besänἀigt das Plätschern des Bachs, die feuchten
Schatten
Und die Blumen des Sommers, die schön im Winde läuten.

Schon dämmert die Stirne dem sinnenden Menschen.
Und es leuchtet ein Lämpchen, das Gute, in seinem Herzen

Und der Frieden des Mahls; denn geheiligt ist Brot und Wein
Von Gottes Händen, und es schaut aus nächtigen Augen
Stille dich der Bruder an, daß er ruhe von dorniger Wanderschaἀ.
O das Wohnen in der beseelten Bläue der Nacht.
Liebend auch umfängt das Schweigen im Zimmer die

Schatten der Alten,
Die purpurnen Martern, Klage eines großen Geschlechts,
Das fromm nun hingeht im einsamen Enkel.
Denn strahlender immer erwacht aus schwarzen Minuten

des Wahnsinns
Der Duldende an versteinerter Schwelle
Und es umfängt ihn gewaltig die kühle Bläue und die
leuchtende Neige des Herbsts,
Das stille Haus und die Sagen des Waldes,

Maß und Gesetz und die mondenen Pfade der Abgeschiedenen.
Appendix A 303
Song of the Departed One
to Karl Borromaeus Heinrich
Full of harmonies is the flight of birds. The green woods

Have gathered to cottages quieter now at evening;
The crystalline pastures of the deer.
The brook’s splashing calms what is dark, the humid shadows
And the flowers of summer that toll beautifully in the wind.

Already the brow of the meditative human being is in twilight.
And a fragile lamp is lit, the good, in his heart

And the peace of the repast; for bread and wine are sanctified
By God’s hands, and gazing at you from nocturnal eyes
Quietly, the brother, may he find rest from thorny wandering;
Oh, to dwell in the ensouled blueness of the night.
Lovingly also the silence in the room embraces the shades

of the old ones,
The purple martyrdoms, lament of a great House
That piously comes t o its en d n ow in t he s olitary g randchild.
For the longsuffering one awakens more radiantly from

black moments of madness
On a threshold turned to stone
And the cool blueness and the luminous waning of the
autumn whelm him,
The silent house and the forest sagas,

Measure and law and the lunar paths of the departed ones.
304 Appendix A
Klage
Schlaf und Tod, die düstern Adler

Umrauschen nachtlang dieses Haupt:
Des Menschen goldnes Bildnis
Verschlänge die eisige Woge
Der Ewigkeit. An schaurigen Riffen
Zerschellt der purpurne Leib
Und es klagt die dunkle Stimme
Über dem Meer.
Schwester stürmischer Schwermut
Sieh ein ängstlicher Kahn versinkt
Unter Sternen,
Dem schweigenden Antlitz der Nacht.
Appendix A 305
Lament
Sleep and death, the gloomy eagles

Swoop about this head all night;
The golden image of humankind
May be swallowed in the icy swell
Of eternity. On terrifying reefs
The purple body shatters
And the dark voice raises a keen
Over the sea.
Sister of stormy melancholy
Behold an anxious skiff founders
Under stars, beneath
The taciturn visage of night.
306 Appendix A
Grodek
(2. Fassung)
Am Abend tönen die herbstlichen Wälder

Von tödlichen Waffen, die goldnen Ebenen
Und blauen Seen, darüber die Sonne
Düstrer hinrollt; umfängt die Nacht
Sterbende Krieger, die wilde Klage
Ihrer zerbrochenen Münder.
Doch stille sammelt im Weidengrund
Rotes Gewölk, darin ein zürnender Gott wohnt
Das vergoßne Blut sich, mondene Kühle;
Alle Straßen münden in schwarze Verwesung.
Unter goldnem Gezweig der Nacht und Sternen
Es s chwankt der S chwester S chatten durch den s chweigenden
Hain,
Zu grüßen die Geister der Helden, die blutenden Häupter;
Und leise tönen im Rohr die dunkeln Flöten des Herbstes.
O stolzere Trauer! ihr ehernen Altäre
Die heiße Flamme des Geistes nährt heute ein gewaltiger
Schmerz,
Die ungebornen Enkel.
Appendix A 307
Grodek
(second version)
At evening the autumn woods resound

With deadly weaponry, the golden plains
And blue lakes, above them the sun
Rolling on more gloomily; the night envelops
Dying warriors, the savage keen
Of their shattered mouths.
Yet silently in the pastureland
Red clouds, wherein dwells a wrathful God,
Gather up the bloodshed, lunar chill;
All roads converge in black decomposition.
Beneath the golden boughs of night and stars
The sister’s shadow sweeps through the taciturn grove
To greet the spirits of heroes, the bleeding heads;
And soἀly sounding in the reeds the dark fluting of autumn.
Oh, prouder mourning! you brazen altars
The hot flame of spirit is fed today by an overwhelming
agony,
The unborn grandchildren.
308 Appendix A
Notes
1. In a let ter t o hi s p ublisher K urt Wolff, w ritten a t t he en d o f M ay o r

beginning of June 1913, aἀer the page proofs of Gedichte have been corrected and
returned, Trakl replies to a query of Wolff ’s. The word Laß, he writes, should b e
understood in the sense of “to be patient,” or “to forbear,” dulden. The sense is
therefore closer to letting‑be or releasement than to abandonment or cessation.
2. In the last letter we have from Trakl (T 325–26), the poet alters the first
stanza o f “ Traum des B ösen.” The m ajor c hange i s t o t he first lin e, w hich n ow
(in the third version, at T 197) r eads: Verhallend eines Sterbeglöckchens Klänge—,
“Reverberations of a little bell that tolls a death—.”
3. In a let ter t o Kurt Wolff from mid‑May 1913, T rakl r eturns t he p age
proofs of his Gedichte. He asks the publisher to make the stanza breaks in “Psalm”
clearer, e ven if t hat s hould f orce t he p oem t o co ntinue o nto t he n ext p age. This
would have the further advantage of allowing the Rosenkranzlieder (see Appendix
B) t o appear en face, so t hat t hey w ould ac hieve t heir “full effect.” Wolff follows
this instruction. In general, the correspondence shows how meticulous Trakl was
with each of his poems—with the word choice of each poem, with its appearance
on the page, and with the sequence of the poems in any given collection.
4. On J uly 8, 1913, T rakl s ends a “ new v ersion” (t he o nly v ersion w e
possess, h owever) o f hi s Stundenlied to L udwig v on Fic ker, remarking t hat t he
new v ersion h as “slipped a ltogether in to d arkness a nd des pair” (T 302). B y t his
time in A ppendix A w e h ave ad vanced f rom t he 1913 Gedichte to Sebastian im
Traum, the manuscript of which Trakl mailed to the Kurt Wolff Verlag on March
6, 1914, s ome six m onths b efore his death. He never saw Sebastian im Traum in
print.
5. Heidegger de votes t o t his p oem a lo ng co mmentary in hi s first Trakl
article, “Die Sprache” (US 9–33). The last two lines of the second stanza and the
entire third stanza are remarkably different in the first version of the poem, which
has t he t itle Im Winter, m ailed t o K arl K raus (“ as a n exp ression o f h omage t o
a m an w ho li ke n o o ne e lse s erves a s a n exa mple t o t he w orld”) o n D ecember
13, 1913. These a re b itter d ays, a s T rakl’s let ters a ttest, a nd s omething o f t hat
bitterness—or a t le ast o f t he p ain a nd di stress—comes t hrough in t he f ollowing
lines, which refer back to “Many a one who wanders” and who “On dark p aths
arrives at the gate”:
(. . .)
Seine Wunde voller Gnaden
Pflegt der Liebe sanἀe Kraἀ.
O! des Menschen bloße Pein.

Der mit Engeln stumm gerungen,
Appendix A 309
Langt von heiligem Schmerz bezwungen

Still nach Gottes Brot und Wein.
•
His wounds full of grace

Tended by the gentle force of love.
Oh! the naked pain of human being.

Who has mutely wrestled with angels
Reaches out, compelled by holy agony,
In stillness for God’s bread and wine.
6. Reseda designates a s eries o f M editerranean a nd s outhern E uropean

flowering p lants u sed sin ce a ncient t imes in h omeopathy a nd in t he d yeing o f
textiles. Mignonette, or Reseda odorata, and Dyer’s Weed, or Reseda luteola, are
the m ost co mmon va rieties. The g eneric G erman n ame f or t hese p lants i s Wau.
Färberwau, which y ields a p ale y ellow‑green d ye, a long w ith Rapunzelwau, are
common in southern Germany and Austria. Sweet‑smelling Reseda is the refer‑
ence here: Pliny the Elder tells us that the name derives from the imperative form
of the verb resedo, resedere, “to diminish, shrink.” When the plant was applied to
tumors in t he h ope t hat t hey w ould recede, the practitioner w ould c hant reseda,
morbos, reseda.
7. The v ery n ext p oem in T rakl’s Sebastian im Traum is t itled “ Sonja.”
See Appendix B.
8. For r easons h e do es n ot s tate, Trakl r equests o f Kurt Wolff in a letter
dated June 10, 1914, t hat Sommersneige (“Summer Inclines to Its End”) and four
other poems of Sebastian im Traum be struck. Fortunately, this order was not car‑
ried out. Note in the penultimate line of the poem Trakl’s reference to ein blaues
Wild, “blue ga me,” o r “a b lue de er,” a r epeated r eference in hi s p oetry a nd o ne
that is impossible to t ranslate. (Das Wild is a co llective noun for “game,” usually
deer, so that in En glish one must say either “blue game,” letting the plural stand,
or “a b lue de er,” losin g t he r eference t o “game.”) A s f or t he w ord blue, one c an‑
not h elp b ut t hink o f F ranz M arc’s b lue h orses. It m ay w ell b e t hat Trakl k new
of M arc’s p aintings, p erhaps t hrough E lke L asker‑Schüler o r O skar K okoschka.
At a ll e vents, t heories o f co lor (M acke, M arc, K andinsky, a nd K lee, a mong o th‑
ers) were a ll t he rage during t he first t wo de cades of t he t wentieth century. And
Marc’s focus on animals—he spoke of his “animalization” of painting—may have
been im portant f or Trakl a s w ell. N onetheless, Trakl’s o dd u se o f t he co llective
noun, das Wild, with t he indefinite article, a s t hough o ne co uld s ay “a ga me” a s
readily as one can say “a deer,” is distinctly his own.
APPENDIX B
Poems Undiscussed
A ppendix B p resents a n umber o f G eorg Trakl’s p oems t hat a re n ot

discussed in t he p resent v olume. On ce a gain, t he s election i s in n o
way “representative” of Trakl’s poetry. Rather, the focus here is on the two
themes o f “ the si ster” a nd “ the lo vers” in hi s p oems. N either H eidegger
nor D errida, i t s eems t o m e, do es j ustice t o t hese t wo t hemes, a lthough
Derrida i s fa r m ore s ensitive t o t hem t han Heidegger i s. If t hinking a nd
poetizing are to continue to be in di alogue, as it seems to me they should
be, es pecially f or t hinking’s s ake, t he f ollowing p oems m ay s erve a s a
spur—or p erhaps a s a s ail—to t hink a bout T rakl’s p oetry. N ot a ll t he
poems t hat m ention t he si ster o r t he lo vers a re in cluded h ere, b ut, o nce
again, only a s election. ἀ ese are among the poems I w ould have wanted
both Heidegger and Derrida to consider. Missing from both Appendices A
and B, unfortunately, and only for reasons of space, are t he prose p oems
of Sebastian im Traum and Der Brenner, “Verwandlung des Bösen,” “Win‑
ternacht,” “ Traum und Umnachtung,” and “Offenbarung und Untergang,”
along with that long masterpiece, “Helian.”
I h ave n ot b een entirely consistent in m y t ranslation of Trakl’s co l‑
ors, especially his Hölderlinian Bläue, although I h ave tried to respect his
palette. How often I w ished t here w ere m ore w ords in En glish f or quiet,
silence, gentleness, softness, and slowness of pace! And how often I wished
the (in)transitive or middle‑voiced verb schweigen could be rescued some‑
how in t he En glish, o r t he es of v erbal p hrases s uch a s es schweigt or es
rauscht. A s r eaders w ill h ave s een by n ow, I h ave t aken t he li berty o f
translating Geschlecht in a wa y t hat h as n ot y et b een attempted s o fa r in
the book. I wa nted to avoid the long list of “dictionary meanings,” and at
some p oint I r emembered t he u se o f t he w ord House in c lassical G reek
tragedy, Aeschylus’s ἰὼ, ἰώ, δῶµα δῶµα, “Alas, alas! the House, the House!”
meaning of course not the palace of Agamemnon but the House of Atreus.
When Trakl writes Haus, I write house with a lower case.
311
312 Appendix B
All s uch de cisions a re co ntroversial, t o s ay t he le ast. En glish a nd

German h ave s uch different r equirements, in s pite o f t heir fa mily r ela‑
tionship. Derrida knew better than anyone else about these idiomatic and
idiosyncratic r equirements o f t exts. A nd in t his r espect p oetry m akes
demands t o w hich n o o ne i s r eally e qual. L east o f a ll t he a uthor o f t he
present volume.
314 Appendix B
Allerseelen
an Karl Hauer
Die Männlein, Weiblein, traurige Gesellen,

Sie streuen heute Blumen blau und rot
Auf ihre Grüfte, die sich zag erhellen.
Sie tun wie arme Puppen vor dem Tod.
O! wie sie hier voll Angst und Demut scheinen,

Wie Schatten hinter schwarzen Büschen stehn.
Im Herbstwind klagt der Ungebornen Weinen,
Auch sieht man Lichter in der Irre gehn.
Das Seufzen Liebender haucht in Gezweigen

Und dort verwest die Mutter mit dem Kind.
Unwirklich scheinet der Lebendigen Reigen
Und wunderlich zerstreut im Abendwind.
Ihr Leben ist so wirr, voll trüber Plagen.

Erbarm’ dich Gott der Frauen Höll’ und Qual,
Und dieser hoffnungslosen Todesklagen.
Einsame wandeln still im Sternensaal.
Appendix B 315
All Souls’ Day

to Karl Hauer
ἀ e little men, little women, mournful mates

Today are strewing flowers blue and red
On their graves, which brighten quite reluctantly.
ἀ ey act like wretched dolls in the face of death.
Oh! here they seem so full of dread and humility,

Like shadows lurking behind black bushes.
In the autumn wind the weeping unborn lament,
One also sees some lanterns wandering astray.
ἀ e sighs of lovers breathe in branches

And there the mother with her child decomposes.
ἀ e ringdance of those who live seems unreal
And marvelously routed in the evening wind.
ἀ eir life is so bewildering, full of turbid plaints.

Have mercy God on the hellish pangs of women,
And on these hopeless lamentations of death.
ἀ e lonely drift in stillness in the starry hall.
316 Appendix B
Winkel am Wald
an Karl Minnich
Braune Kastanien. Leise gleiten die alten Leute

In stilleren Abend; weich verwelken schöne Blätter.
Am Friedhof scherzt die Amsel mit dem toten Vetter,
Angelen gibt der blonde Lehrer das Geleite.
Des Todes reine Bilder schaun von Kirchenfenstern;

Doch wirkt ein blutiger Grund sehr trauervoll und düster.
Das Tor blieb heut verschlossen. Den Schlüssel hat der Küster.
Im Garten spricht die Schwester freundlich mit Gespenstern.
In alten Kellern reift der Wein ins Goldne, Klare.

Süß duften Äpfel. Freude glänzt nicht allzu ferne.
Den langen Abend hören Kinder Märchen gerne;
Auch zeigt sich sanftem Wahnsinn oft das Goldne, Wahre.
Das Blau fließt voll Reseden; in Zimmern Kerzenhelle.

Bescheidenen ist ihre Stätte wohl bereitet.
Den Saum des Walds hinab ein einsam Schicksal gleitet;
Die Nacht erscheint, der Ruhe Engel, auf der Schwelle.
Appendix B 317
Forest Nook
to Karl Minnich
Brown chestnuts. Slowly the old folks glide

Into quieter evening; softly beautiful leaves wilt.
At t he cemetery t he blackbird is j oking with t he de ad cousin,
ἀ e blond teacher accompanies Angela.
Pure images of death gaze from church windows;

Yet a bloody background seems mournful and menacing.
Today the gate remained locked. ἀ e sacristan keeps the key.
In the garden the sister speaks amiably with specters.
In ancient cellars the wine is ripening to golden clarity.

Apples smell sweet. Joy is shining not so very far away.
On long evenings the children love to hear fairy tales;
ἀ en too the gently m ad are often shown the golden truth.
ἀ e blue flows full of Reseda; candlelight fills the rooms.

For those of modest means a decent place is prepared.
Down the forest rim glides a lonely destiny;
ἀ e night appears, the Angel of Repose, upon the threshold.
318 Appendix B
Menschheit
Menschheit vor Feuerschlünden aufgestellt,

Ein Trommelwirbel, dunkler Krieger Stirnen,
Schritte durch Blutnebel; schwarzes Eisen schellt,
Verzweiflung, Nacht in traurigen Gehirnen:
Hier Evas Schatten, Jagd und rotes Geld.
Gewölk, das Licht durchbricht, das Abendmahl.
Es wohnt in Brot und Wein ein sanftes Schweigen
Und jene sind versammelt zwölf an Zahl.
Nachts schrein im Schlaf sie unter Ölbaumzweigen;
Sankt ἀ omas taucht die Hand ins Wundenmal.
Appendix B 319
Humanity
Humanity exposed to maws of fire,

A drumroll, brows of dark warriors,
Footsteps through a fog of blood; black iron reports,
Despair, night in brains that mourn:
Here the shade of Eve, the hunt, and red lucre.
Clouds pierced by light, the Last Supper.
A gentle taciturnity dwells in bread and wine
And they are gathered, twelve in number.
At night, asleep beneath the olive boughs, they cry out;
Saint ἀ omas dips his hand into the wound.
320 Appendix B
Rosenkranzlieder
An die Schwester
Wo du gehst wird Herbst und Abend,

Blaues Wild, das unter Bäumen tönt,
Einsamer Weiher am Abend.
Leise der Flug der Vögel tönt,

Die Schwermut über deinen Augenbogen.
Dein schmales Lächeln tönt.
Gott hat deine Lider verbogen.

Sterne suchen nachts, Karfreitagskind,
Deinen Stirnenbogen.
Nähe des Todes

(2. Fassung)
O der Abend, der in die finsteren Dörfer der Kindheit geht.

Der Weiher unter den Weiden
Füllt sich mit den verpesteten Seufzern der Schwermut.
O der Wald, der leise die braunen Augen senkt,

Da aus des Einsamen knöchernen Händen
Der Purpur seiner verzückten Tage hinsinkt.
O die Nähe des Todes. Laß uns beten.

In dieser Nacht lösen auf lauen Kissen
Vergilbt von Weihrauch sich der Liebenden schmächtige Glieder.
Amen
Verwestes gleitend durch die morsche Stube;

Schatten an gelben Tapeten; in dunklen Spiegeln wölbt
Sich unserer Hände elfenbeinerne Traurigkeit.
Appendix B 321
Rosary Hymns1
To the Sister 2
Where you walk autumn and evening descend,

Blue deer sounding beneath the trees,
Lonely pond at evening.
Softly the flight of birds sounds,

Melancholy above the arc of your eyes.
Your slight smile sounds.
God bent the arc of your eyelids.

At night, Good Friday’s Child, stars seek
ἀ e arc of your brow.
Nearness of Death
(second version)
Oh, the evening that comes to the gloomy villages of childhood.

ἀ e pond beneath the willows
Fills with the pestilential sighs of melancholy.
Oh, the wood that slowly lowers its brown eyes,

When from the skeletal hands of the lonely one
ἀ e purple of his enraptured days slowly slips.
Oh, the nearness of death. Let us pray.

In this night, on pillows still warm to the touch,
Yellowed by incense, spent limbs of lovers unravel.
Amen
Decay drifts through the rotting parlor;

Shadows on yellow wallpaper; in dark mirrors
Our hands in ivory mourning form a vault.
322 Appendix B
Braune Perlen rinnen durch die erstorbenen Finger.

In der Stille
Tun sich eines Engels blaue Mohnaugen auf.
Blau ist auch der Abend;

Die Stunde unseres Absterbens, Azraels Schatten,
Der ein braunes Gärtchen verdunkelt.
Appendix B 323
Brown pearls trickle through fingers that have died.

In the stillness
Blue eyes of an angel open like poppies.
Blue also is the evening;

ἀ e hour of our demise, Azrael’s shadow,3
Casting its gloom across a small brown garden.
324 Appendix B
In der Heimat
Resedenduft durchs kranke Fenster irrt;

Ein alter Platz, Kastanien schwarz und wüst.
Das Dach durchbricht ein goldener Strahl und fließt
Auf die Geschwister traumhaft und verwirrt.
Im Spülicht treibt Verfallnes, leise girrt

Der Föhn im braunen Gärtchen; sehr still genießt
Ihr Gold die Sonnenblume und zerfließt.
Durch blaue Luft der Ruf der Wache klirrt.
Resedenduft. Die Mauern dämmern kahl.

Der Schwester Schlaf ist schwer. Der Nachtwind wühlt
In ihrem Haar, das mondner Glanz umspült.
Der Katze Schatten gleitet blau und schmal

Vom morschen Dach, das nahes Unheil säumt,
Die Kerzenflamme, die sich purpurn bäumt.
Appendix B 325
In the Homeland
Odor of Reseda errs out the sickroom window;

An old townsquare, chestnuts black and desolate.
A golden beam penetrates the roof and bathes
ἀ e siblings dreamily and in confusion.
Decay swims in gutter water, softly coos the warm wind

In the small brown garden; very quietly enjoying
Its gold is the sunflower, which then dissolves.
ἀ e call of the nightwatch clatters through blue air.
Odor of Reseda. ἀ e walls grow bleak at dusk.

ἀ e sister’s sleep is heavy. ἀ e nightwind musses
Her hair, bathed in lunar shimmer.
ἀ e cat’s shadow slips blue and lean

From the sagging roof that hems approaching ill,
ἀ e candleflame that vaults in purple.
326 Appendix B
Menschliches Elend
(Menschliche Trauer 2. Fassung)
Die Uhr, die vor der Sonne fünfe schlägt—

Einsame Menschen packt ein dunkles Grausen,
Im Abendgarten kahle Bäume sausen.
Des Toten Antlitz sich am Fenster regt.
Vielleicht, daß diese Stunde stille steht.

Vor trüben Augen blaue Bilder gaukeln
Im Takt der Schiffe, die am Flusse schaukeln.
Am Kai ein Schwesternzug vorüberweht.
Im Hasel spielen Mädchen blaß und blind,

Wie Liebende, die sich im Schlaf umschlingen.
Vielleicht, daß um ein Aas dort Fliegen singen,
Vielleicht auch weint im Mutterschoß ein Kind.
Aus Händen sinken Astern blau und rot,

Des Jünglings Mund entgleitet fremd und weise;
Und Lider flattern angstverwirrt und leise;
Durch Fieberschwärze weht ein Duft von Brot.
Es scheint, man hört auch gräßliches Geschrei;

Gebeine durch verfallne Mauern schimmern.
Ein böses Herz lacht laut in schönen Zimmern;
An einem Träumer läuft ein Hund vorbei.
Ein leerer Sarg im Dunkel sich verliert.

Dem Mörder will ein Raum sich bleich erhellen,
Indes Laternen nachts im Sturm zerschellen.
Des Edlen weiße Schläfe Lorbeer ziert.
Appendix B 327
Human Misery
(Human Mourning, second version)4
ἀ e clock, faster than the sun, strikes five—

A dark horror grips the lonely humans,
In the evening garden bare trees toss.
ἀ e face of the dead man in the window stirs.
Perhaps this hour will come to stand still.

Before turbid eyes blue images flutter
In rhythm with the ships that bob at the riverside.
On the quay a flock of sisters drifts by.
In the hazels blind and pallid girls at play,

Like lovers who cling to one another in their sleep.
Perhaps flies are singing over carrion there.
Perhaps too a child is weeping in its mother’s womb.
Asters blue and red drop from someone’s hands,

ἀ e mouth of a youth drifts off, strangely, wisely;
And eyelids flutter quietly in anxious confusion;
ἀr ough jet‑black fevers wafts a smell of bread.
It seems one also hears horrid cries;

Skeletons shimmer through dilapidated walls.
An evil heart laughs aloud in splendid rooms;
A dog dashes past a dreamer.
An empty coffin drifts off in the dark.

A room seems bright and bleak to the killer,
While lanterns shatter in the stormy night.
Laurels crown the white temples of the nobleman.
328 Appendix B
Elis
(3. Fassung)
1
Vollkommen ist die Stille dieses goldenen Tags.
Unter alten Eichen
Erscheinst du, Elis, ein Ruhender mit runden Augen.
Ihre Bläue spiegelt den Schlummer der Liebenden.

An deinem Mund
Verstummten ihre rosigen Seufzer.
Am Abend zog der Fischer die schweren Netze ein.

Ein guter Hirt
Führt seine Herde am Waldsaum hin.
O! wie gerecht sind, Elis, alle deine Tage.
Leise sinkt
An kahlen Mauern des Ölbaums blaue Stille,
Erstirbt eines Greisen dunkler Gesang.
Ein goldener Kahn

Schaukelt, Elis, dein Herz am einsamen Himmel.
2
Ein sanftes Glockenspiel tönt in Elis’ Brust
Am Abend,
Da sein Haupt ins schwarze Kissen sinkt.
Ein blaues Wild

Blutet leise im Dornengestrüpp.
Ein brauner Baum steht abgeschieden da;

Seine blauen Früchte fielen von ihm.
Zeichen und Sterne

Versinken leise im Abendweiher.
Hinter dem Hügel ist es Winter geworden.

Blaue Tauben
Appendix B 329
Elis
(third version)
1
Perfect is the hush of this golden day.
Under ancient oaks
You appear, Elis, in repose and round‑eyed.
ἀ e blue of those eyes mirrors the slumber of lovers.

On your mouth
ἀ eir sighs, all roses, grew mute.
In the evening the fisherman gathered his heavy nets.

A good shepherd
Drives his herd along the forest rim.
Oh! how just, Elis, are all your days.
Quietly falls
ἀ e blue hush of an olive tree over bare walls,
ἀ e melancholy song of an old man dies away.
A golden skiff,
Elis, cradles your heart in the lonely sky.
2
A gentle carillon sounds in Elis’ breast
At evening,
As his head sinks deep into the black pillow.
A blue deer
Bleeds slowly in the thorny undergrowth.
A brown tree stands there quite apart;

Its blue fruit fell from it.
Signs and stars

Slowly sink in the evening weir.
Behind the hill winter has come.

Blue doves
330 Appendix B
Trinken nachts den eisigen Schweiß,

Der von Elis’ kristallener Stirne rinnt.
Immer tönt
An schwarzen Mauern Gottes einsamer Wind.
Appendix B 331
Drink at night from the streams of icy sweat

ἀ at trickle from Elis’ crystalline brow.
Always sounding
Near black walls the lonely wind of God.
332 Appendix B
Im Frühling
Leise sank von dunklen Schritten der Schnee,

Im Schatten des Baums
Heben die rosigen Lider Liebende.
Immer folgt den dunklen Rufen der Schiffer

Stern und Nacht;
Und die Ruder schlagen leise im Takt.
Balde an verfallener Mauer blühen

Die Veilchen,
Ergrünt so still die Schläfe des Einsamen.
Appendix B 333
In Spring
Softly beneath dark footsteps sank the snow,

In the tree’s shadow
Lovers raise their eyelids all roses.
Forever following the dark calls of mariners

Star and night;
And the oars quietly keep the beat.
Along ruined walls will soon be blooming

ἀ e violets,
Greening so silently the temples of the lonely one.
334 Appendix B
Sonja
Abend kehrt in alten Garten;

Sonjas Leben, blaue Stille.
Wilder Vögel Wanderfahrten;
Kahler Baum in Herbst und Stille.
Sonnenblume, sanftgeneigte
Über Sonjas weißes Leben.
Wunde, rote, niegezeigte
Läßt in dunklen Zimmern leben,
Wo die blauen Glocken läuten;

Sonjas Schritt und sanfte Stille.
Sterbend Tier grüßt im Entgleiten,
Kahler Baum in Herbst und Stille.
Sonne alter Tage leuchtet

Über Sonjas weiße Brauen,
Schnee, der ihre Wangen feuchtet,
Und die Wildnis ihrer Brauen.
Appendix B 335
Sonia
Evening comes to ancient garden;

Sonia’s life, blue stillness.
Migrations of wild birds;
Bare tree in autumn and in stillness.
Sunflower, softly bending

Over Sonia’s white life.
Wound, red, never shown
Lets live in darkened rooms
Where the blue bells toll;

Sonia’s step and gentle stillness.
Dying animal greets in going,
Bare tree in autumn and in stillness.
Sun of bygone days shines

Above Sonia’s white eyebrows,
Snowfall moistening her cheeks
And the wilds of her brows.
336 Appendix B
Der Herbst des Einsamen
Der dunkle Herbst kehrt ein voll Frucht und Fülle,

Vergilbter Glanz von schönen Sommertagen.
Ein reines Blau tritt aus verfallener Hülle;
Der Flug der Vögel tönt von alten Sagen.
Gekeltert ist der Wein, die milde Stille
Erfüllt von leiser Antwort dunkler Fragen.
Und hier und dort ein Kreuz auf ödem Hügel;

Im roten Wald verliert sich eine Herde.
Die Wolke wandert übern Weiherspiegel;
Es ruht des Landmanns ruhige Geberde.
Sehr leise rührt des Abends blauer Flügel
Ein Dach von dürrem Stroh, die schwarze Erde.
Bald nisten Sterne in des Müden Brauen;

In kühle Stuben kehrt ein still Bescheiden
Und Engel treten leise aus den blauen
Augen der Liebenden, die sanfter leiden.
Es rauscht das Rohr; anfällt ein knöchern Grauen,
Wenn schwarz der Tau tropft von den kahlen Weiden.
Appendix B 337
Autumn of the Lonely One
Dark autumn comes round full fruit and plenty,

Faded gleam of lovely summer days.
A pure blue rises from its decayed husk;
ἀ e flight of birds intones old sagas.
ἀ e wine is pressed, the mild silence
Filled with hushed answers to dark questions.
And here and there a crucifix on barren hill;

A herd strays through the red forest.
ἀ e cloud drifts across the mirror of the weir;
ἀ e farmer’s calm gestures come to rest.
Very gently the blue wing of evening
Touches a roof of dried thatch, the black earth.
Soon stars nestle in the brows of the weary one;

In cool rooms a modest life unfolds
And angels slowly rise from the blue
Eyes of lovers, who more gently suffer.
ἀ e reed whistles in the wind; horror of old bones,
When the dew drips black from the bare willows.
338 Appendix B
Im Dunkel
(2. Fassung)
Es schweigt die Seele den blauen Frühling.

Unter feuchtem Abendgezweig
Sank in Schauern die Stirne den Liebenden.
O das grünende Kreuz. In dunklem Gespräch

Erkannten sich Mann und Weib.
An kahler Mauer
Wandelt mit seinen Gestirnen der Einsame.
Über die mondbeglänzten Wege des Walds

Sank die Wildnis
Vergessener Jagden; Blick der Bläue
Aus verfallenen Felsen bricht.
Appendix B 339
In the Dark
(second version)
ἀ e soul is silent about the blue springtime.

Beneath moist branches of evening
ἀ e brows of lovers sank in shudders.
Oh, the greening crucifix. In dark converse

Man and woman came to know each other.
At barren wall
ἀ e lonely one paces with his stars.
Above the forest paths bathed in moonlight

Sank the savagery
Of forgotten hunts; glimpse of blue haze
Breaks from ruined rocks.
340 Appendix B
Das Dunkle Tal
In Föhren zerflattert ein Krähenzug

Und grüne Abendnebel steigen
Und wie im Traum ein Klang von Geigen
Und Mägde laufen zum Tanz in Krug.
Man hört Betrunkener Lachen und Schrei,

Ein Schauer geht durch alte Eiben.
An leichenfahlen Fensterscheiben
Huschen die Schatten der Tänzer vorbei.
Es riecht nach Wein und ἀ ymian

Und durch den Wald hallt einsam Rufen.
Das Bettelvolk lauscht auf den Stufen
Und hebt sinnlos zu beten an.
Ein Wild verblutet im Haselgesträuch.

Dumpf schwanken riesige Baumarkaden,
Von eisigen Wolken überladen.
Liebende ruhn umschlungen am Teich.
Appendix B 341
ἀ e Dark Valley
In the firs a flock of crows disperses

And green fogs of evening rise
And as in a dream a sound of fiddles
And maids dash to the dance at the inn.
One hears laughter and the cries of drunkards,

A shower sweeps through the ancient yews.
At windowpanes as pale as corpses
ἀ e shadows of the dancers drift by.
Fragrance of wine and mountain thyme

And calls echo forlorn through the wood.
Paupers gather on the stairs, listening in,
And senselessly commence a prayer.
A deer bleeds to death in a tangle of hazels.

Vast arcades of trees dully sway,
Overburdened by icy clouds.
Near the pond clasping lovers are now at rest.
342 Appendix B
Sommerdämmerung
Im grünen Äther flimmert jäh ein Stern

Und im Spitale wittern sie den Morgen.
Die Drossel trällert irr im Busch verborgen
Und Klosterglocken gehn traumhaft und fern.
Ein Standbild ragt am Platz, einsam und schlank

Und in den Höfen dämmern rote Blumenpfühle[.]
Die Luft um Holzbalkone bebt von Schwüle
Und Fliegen taumeln leise um Gestank.
Der Silbervorhang dort vor’m Fenster hehlt

Verschlungene Glieder, Lippen, zarte Brüste.
Ein hart’ Gehämmer hallt vom Turmgerüste
Und weiß verfällt der Mond am Himmelszelt.
Ein geisterhafter Traumakkord verschwebt

Und Mönche tauchen aus den Kirchentoren
Und schreiten im Unendlichen verloren.
Ein heller Gipfel sich am Himmel hebt.
Appendix B 343
Summer Twilight
Suddenly through ethereal green a star glimmers

And in the clinic they sense the coming morn.
ἀ e thrush concealed in the bush twitters madly
And monastery bells ring dreamily afar.
A statue looms in the townsquare lonely and gaunt

And in the courtyards red flowerbeds are lit by dawn[.]
ἀ e air on wooden balconies quivers with humidity
And houseflies tumble lazily about some putrefaction.
ἀ e silver curtain in the window there conceals

Clasping limbs, lips, tender breasts.
Loud hammering rings from the tower’s scaffolding
And the white moon decays in heaven’s canopy.
A spectral dreamlike chord hangs in the air

And monks emerge from churchyard gates
And pace quite lost in the infinite.
A radiant mountain peak looms in the sky.
344 Appendix B
Passion
(3. Fassung)
Wenn Orpheus silbern die Laute rührt,

Beklagend ein Totes im Abendgarten,
Wer bist du Ruhendes unter hohen Bäumen?
Es rauscht die Klage das herbstliche Rohr,
Der blaue Teich,
Hinsterbend unter grünenden Bäumen
Und folgend dem Schatten der Schwester;
Dunkle Liebe
Eines wilden Geschlechts,
Dem auf goldenen Rädern der Tag davonrauscht.
Stille Nacht.
Unter finsteren Tannen

Mischten zwei Wölfe ihr Blut
In steinerner Umarmung; ein Goldnes
Verlor sich die Wolke über dem Steg,
Geduld und Schweigen der Kindheit.
Wieder begegnet der zarte Leichnam
Am Tritonsteich
Schlummernd in seinem hyazinthenen Haar.
Daß endlich zerbräche das kühle Haupt!
Denn immer folgt, ein blaues Wild,

Ein Äugendes unter dämmernden Bäumen,
Dieser dunkleren Pfaden
Wachend und bewegt von nächtigem Wohllaut,
Sanftem Wahnsinn;
Oder es tönte dunkler Verzückung
Voll das Saitenspiel
Zu den kühlen Füßen der Büßerin
In der steinernen Stadt.
Appendix B 345
Passion
(third version)
When Orpheus plucks his silvery lute,

Lamenting something dead in the evening garden,
Who are you Reposeful One under lofty trees?
ἀ e autumn reed sounds the lamentation,
ἀ e blue pond,
Dying beneath the greening trees
And following the shadow of the sister;
Dark love
Of a savage House,
From which on golden wheels the day departs.
Silent night.
Beneath gloomy pines

Two wolves mixed their blood
In stony embrace; something golden
Drifted off, a cloud above the footbridge,
Patience and silence of childhood.
Encountered again is the tender corpse
At Triton’s pond
Dozing in his hyacinthine hair.
May the cool head at long last shatter!
For what a blue deer always follows,

Its gazing eye beneath the twilit trees,
Alert to this darker path
And moved by the euphony of the night,
Is gentle madness;
Or full of dark rapture
A thrum of strings sounded
At the cool feet of the penitent woman
In the city of stone.
346 Appendix B
Notes
1. In a let ter to Erhard Buschbeck during the second half of March 1913,
that i s, d uring t he t ime w hen t he t wo f riends w ere p lanning t he p ublication o f
Trakl’s Gedichte, t o b e r eleased b y t he K urt Wolff Verlag in L eipzig, Trakl a sks
his f riend t o ga ther t hree p oems t ogether ( zusammenzuschließen), n amely, “An
die Schwester,” “Nähe des Todes,” and “Amen” (T 291), as the Rosenkranzlieder. A
month later, in a letter to Kurt Wolff, Trakl asks whether the collection as a whole
should have a more informative title than “poems,” Gedichte, and he proposes the
title t hat t he co llection o riginally h ad f or him, n amely, Dämmerung und Verfall,
“Dusk and Decay,” a title, he says, that “expresses everything essential” (T 295).
In the end, the neutral title Gedichte prevails.
2. ἀ e t itle o f t his p oem in i ts first v ersion i s An meine Schwester, “To
My S ister.” Very o ften, i t s eems, Trakl, u pon r eflection, u ses t he definite a rticle
the instead o f t he m ore n atural p ossessive p ronoun my. I h ave t ried t o r espect
this de cision o f hi s, e ven t hough i t s ounds o dder t o t he En glish e ar t han t o t he
German. ἀ e u se o f t he definite a rticle s eems t o b e a p art o f T rakl’s s trategy,
discussed in a let ter to Buschbeck in 1911 (T 173–74), t o translate the “personal”
into t he “ impersonal” a nd “ more uni versal” f orm. N evertheless, i t s eems t o b e
a s afe a ssumption—if a ny a ssumption i s s afe in T rakl’s p oetry—that “ the” si ster
in question is Gretl.
3. “Azrael’s s hadow.” ἀ e t hird e dition (1874) o f W ilhelm V ollmer’s
Wörterbuch der Mythologie contains (a t 10:346) a r eference t o Azrae l. ἀ e co n‑
text is a reputedly Persian extrapolation on the story of Adam and Eve and the
genesis o f h umankind. ἀ e s tory g oes t hat G od, desir ing t o m ake t he h uman
being o ut o f a h andful o f s oil f rom e ach o f t he s even l ayers o f t he e arth, s ent
the a ngels Ga briel, M ichael, a nd Azra fel do wn t o e arth t o ga ther t he r equisite
material. ἀ e earth, however, knowing of the curse that would befall it because
of h umankind’s di sobedience, b egged t he a ngels t o desi st, w hich t hey did . ἀ ey
returned emptyhanded to the Lord. God thereupon sent the angel Azrael, noted
for hi s im placable w ill, do wn t o e arth. Azrae l ig nored t he e arth’s p leas a nd t ore
handfuls of soil from each of her seven layers. ἀ e Lord honored Azrael’s obedi‑
ence and iron will by making him the Angel of Death for humankind.
4. ἀ e v ery l ast let ter o f T rakl’s t hat w e h ave (T 325–26), w ritten les s
than a w eek b efore hi s de ath, co ntains w hat i s n ow c alled t he third version o f
“Human Mourning” (T 203–204). ἀ e poem is greatly abbreviated, and the third
and fourth stanzas contain new material:
Menschliche Trauer
Die Uhr, die vor der Sonne fünfe schlägt—

Einsame Menschen packt ein dunkles Grausen.
Im Abendgarten morsche Bäume sausen;
Des Toten Antlitz sich am Fenster regt.
Appendix B 347
Vielleicht daß diese Stunde stillesteht.

Vor trüben Augen nächtige Bilder gaukeln
Im Takt der Schiffe, die am Flusse schaukeln;
Am Kai ein Schwesternzug vorüberweht.
Es scheint, man hört der Fledermäuse Schrei,

Im Garten einen Sarg zusammenzimmern.
Gebeine durch verfallne Mauern schimmern
Und schwärzlich schwankt ein Irrer dort vorbei.
Ein blauer Strahl im Herbstgewölk erfriert.

Die Liebenden im Schlafe sich umschlingen.
Gelehnet an der Engel Sternenschwingen,
Des Edlen bleiche Schläfe Lorbeer ziert.
Human Mourning
ἀ e clock, faster than the sun, strikes five—

A dark horror grips the lonely humans,
In the evening garden dead trees toss.
ἀ e face of the dead man in the window stirs.
Perhaps this hour will come to a standstill.

Before turbid eyes blue images flutter
In rhythm with the ships that bob at the riverside.
On the quay a flock of sisters drifts by.
It seems one hears the cry of bats,

A coffin being joined in the garden.
Skeletons shimmer through dilapidated walls
And there a madman lurches by in black.
A blue beam freezes in the autumn clouds.

ἀ e lovers clasp each other in their sleep,
Leaning on the starry pinions of the angels,
Laurels crown the white temples of the nobleman.
Index
adolescence, 176–77, 224, 239, 246, Basil, Otto, 241, 248–50

250; see also childhood, latency, Bataille, Georges, 228, 250
youth Baudelaire, Charles, 228, 250
Adorno, T. W., 145, 172 Befindlichkeit, 14, 20–22
Anaximander, 9–11, 55, 103, 115, 147, benumbment (Benommenheit), 28n5,
152, 196 39, 42, 84, 86, 157
animality, 2, 28, 32, 49, 51, 56, 62, Berezdivin, Ruben, xi, xiv, 3
64–65, 72–76, 82–87, 95–96, 132, bestrewal (die Streuung), 16, 19, 27,
134, 136, 145, 153–59, 171, 177, 36–41, 45–46, 85–88, 156, 253; see
199, 213–17, 224, 226, 242, 246, also dispersion, distraction, positiv-
259, 289, 295, 301, 309, 335 ity
anthropology, 20, 22, 27, 44, 74, 101, Bewegtheit (animatedness, “moved-
122, 124, 230 ness”), 8, 41, 78
anxiety (die Angst), 5, 14, 44, 84–85, biography, 149, 151, 185, 224, 230–31,
114, 168, 217, 230, 275, 305, 327 246, 251–52
apartness (die Abgeschiedenheit), biology, 20, 27, 44, 49, 52, 56, 63–65,
144–48, 158, 162–63, 168, 173, 197, 75, 81, 86, 91, 156, 215–16
221, 230, 302–3, 328–29 Birmingham, Peg, 172
appropriateness/inappropriateness, 12, birth, 7, 19–20, 23, 30, 43–44, 49, 93,
32, 35, 41, 43, 46, 77–78, 83–84, 98, 98, 112, 119, 126, 145, 154–56, 208,
107–9, 112, 141, 148, 155, 168 224, 229, 241
Arendt, Hannah, 172 Blanchot, Maurice, 171, 226, 228
Aristotle, 10–11, 21, 23, 40, 51, 78, body, the human, 35–38, 43, 52,
102, 109, 113, 133n2, 146n6, 153, 56–58, 76, 85, 88, 91, 102, 134,
158, 180, 185, 215, 224 154–55, 158, 173, 200, 225, 226,
Austrag, der (settlement, carrying 233, 244, 250, 253, 259, 265, 305
out), 108, 112, 177–79 brothers, 17, 85, 87, 94, 97, 134,
avoidance, 38, 41, 48, 58, 62, 66, 69, 139, 142–44, 151, 158–68, 175,
72–77, 83–84, 91, 94, 101, 103n5, 177, 183–86, 191–94, 202, 210,
116, 124, 134, 150, 165–67, 173–75, 218, 221–22, 225–30, 234–38, 240,
207, 230 245–50, 253, 271, 301, 303
349
350 Index
Buber, Martin, 31–33 237–38, 265, 267, 287, 289, 295,

307, 315; see also disessencing
Calasso, Roberto, 48–49, 251 democracy, 114, 116, 128–29
Cassirer, Ernst, 28n5 demonic, the, 87–89, 242, 246; see
Celan, Paul, 177n4, 228 also evil
childhood, iv, 17, 37, 57, 93, 105, 112, Descartes, René, 7, 13–15, 23, 43, 56,
145, 149, 151, 155, 159–64, 167–69, 74–79, 87, 89, 181, 187, 210, 212,
174–77, 180–85, 207, 226, 228–30, 224
233–34, 239–42, 246–50, 253, 267, despair, 82, 100, 195, 226, 240, 244,
271, 273, 281, 289, 295, 299, 301, 248, 254, 308, 319
303, 309, 315, 317, 321, 327, 345 destination, 17, 66, 147–50, 159, 164,
Christianity, 42, 44, 65–66, 70, 74, 79, 192–93, 210
86, 89, 91–96, 99–105, 124, 126, destiny (Geschick), 8, 14–15, 17, 80,
145, 162, 165–67, 172, 174, 187, 126, 147, 162, 166, 178, 183, 193,
189–95, 198–99, 204, 207, 209, 219, 200, 210, 217, 238; see also legacy
226, 230, 240–42, 249, 253–54 Destruktion, 5, 74–75, 79, 129
Cixous, Hélène, 110, 228 discord (die Zwietracht), 10, 17, 30,
commentary (Erläuterung), 65, 120, 42, 59, 62, 66, 88, 90, 96, 103n5,
135, 139–41, 143–44, 151–52, 184, 115, 120, 124–25, 129, 134, 161–68,
197, 201, 213, 225–26, 237, 252–54 180, 184–85, 203–4, 207, 209, 226,
curse, 42, 46, 61–62, 89–90, 105, 120, 230, 237, 239
125, 156, 159–62, 164–69, 172, 175, disessencing (die Ver-wesung), 42–43,
184, 190, 225–26, 229–32, 238, 240, 46, 62, 66, 73, 158–65, 168, 180,
242, 281, 346 185, 230–31, 237–38; see also
decomposition
Dastur, Françoise, 71, 97, 103n5, 137 dispersion (die Zerstreuung), 3, 19,
dawn, the, 10, 93, 96, 104, 152, 163, 29–30, 35–46, 49, 58–59, 65–66,
166, 173, 182–83, 207, 229, 238–39, 78, 81, 88, 128–29, 136, 144, 167,
295, 343; see also dusk, twilight 185–86, 253; see also bestrewal,
death, xii, 7–9, 16, 30, 43, 84, 93n4, distraction, negativity
96, 98, 109–10, 128, 132, 144–45, dissemination, 19, 37n8, 38–40, 43,
151, 155–58, 168, 171, 173, 177, 45–46, 60, 63, 65, 81, 85, 128,
181, 188–89, 193, 197, 220–21, 136–37, 180, 185–88, 195, 210–12,
223–27, 237, 239n5, 240, 244–45, 226, 251–52; see also polysemy
248–50, 253, 255, 277, 289, 295, dissension, see discord
301, 305, 308, 315, 317, 321, 341, distraction (die Zerstreuung), 36–37,
346 39–45, 78, 84–85, 88, 117, 137, 144,
decline (der Untergang), 49, 82, 167, 186; see also dispersion
150–51, 220–21, 237–38, 295; see domination (Walten), 83, 112, 122–26,
also downgoing 220; see also violence
decomposition (die Verwesung), 42, downgoing (der Untergang), 145,
46, 61–62, 66, 73, 89, 98–99, 102, 150–52, 156, 183, 248, 259, 263,
105, 156, 160, 162, 165–66, 173, 273, 293, 295, 317, 346; see also
177, 181, 183, 185, 207, 230–32, decline
Index 351
dream, v, 17, 21, 29, 47, 81, 89, 105, 184–85, 187, 189–92, 195, 218, 224,
128, 150–51, 165, 167, 199–201, 230, 234, 246, 253, 261, 271, 283,
219, 221, 229–33, 239–44, 246, 254, 327
261, 267, 271, 277, 293, 325, 327, exemplarity, 20, 22, 27, 71, 75, 87
341, 343; see also phantasm eyes, 51, 53, 58, 138, 143, 162, 180,
duality, 10, 16n2, 19, 24, 27–30, 183, 190, 198, 201–2, 209, 232–33,
35–36, 37n8, 45, 64, 96, 165, 169, 235, 242, 246–47, 250–51, 259, 265,
176, 184, 203–9, 226; see also 273, 275, 277, 281, 289, 293, 295,
twofold 299, 301, 303, 321, 323, 327, 329,
dusk, 96, 152, 229, 238, 277, 291, 301, 333, 335, 337, 345, 347
325, 346; see also dawn, twilight
falling (Verfallen), 11, 39, 41–43, 45,
ear, the, 3–5, 111, 115 61–62, 77–78, 105, 158, 165–66, 181–
earth, 39, 79–81, 96, 123, 140, 144, 82, 186, 221, 231, 240–44, 246, 250
147–51, 158, 161, 181n5, 217, 219, fatherland, 10, 195–97, 217–18, 222;
223, 230, 247, 254, 279, 301, 337, see also nation
346 fathers, 16, 63, 110, 123–24, 151,
ecstatic, the, 7–8, 11–12, 14, 30, 40–41, 181–82, 192, 222, 242, 247, 249–50
43, 77–78, 95, 100, 108, 142, 156n8 feet, 50–53, 57, 124, 161, 194
Empedocles, 26, 100, 117, 119, 121 Fichte, Johann Gottlieb, 47–49, 54,
epochality, 7, 9, 13, 17, 73–76, 79, 138, 172, 196
85, 87, 90, 99–104, 112, 114, 166, Ficker, Ludwig von, 224, 228, 240,
177n4, 210–11, 233 244–45, 251
Ereignis (“event of [ap]propriation”), ἀame, 66, 69, 70, 74, 78, 81, 85,
10–12, 14, 43, 85, 98, 101, 112, 117, 91–95, 99–103, 105, 173–74, 180,
167, 178, 198, 206–7, 228, 238 182, 184, 231, 253, 261, 277, 301,
erotic, the, 2, 19–22, 29, 35, 113–15, 307, 325
237, 250; see also love, lovers foreign (fremd), 13, 14, 66, 113,
Europe, 86–88, 90, 100, 102–3, 106, 133–34, 140–42, 144, 146–50, 169,
122, 127–28, 197–98, 208–9 174, 193, 195–98, 231, 238, 246,
essence (das Wesen), 13, 27–30, 248–49, 271, 277, 281, 295, 301,
32–33, 35–37, 41–46, 52, 54, 61–62, 327; see also strange
66, 71–73, 76, 79–80, 83, 85, 89, Freud, Sigmund, 8–9, 16–17, 26, 29,
92, 94, 96, 104, 107–8, 115, 137, 34, 38, 47, 53, 108, 110, 118, 161,
154–55, 157–60, 162–65, 168–69, 164, 171, 177n4, 207, 248; see also
174, 178–80, 185, 188–89, 192–93, psychoanalysis
199, 202, 212, 217–18, 230–31, 234, friendship, x–xi, 4–5, 22, 32, 34, 48,
237–38 90, 107–15, 122, 127–30, 146, 167,
ethics, 17, 22, 27, 38–39, 42, 45, 49, 177, 220, 222, 228, 234–36, 242–43,
81, 236 248–50, 289, 346; see also love
everydayness, 13, 22, 41–42, 46, 56, future, the, 7–8, 40, 96, 99, 101–4,
78, 108–10, 135, 145, 185–86, 244 122, 143, 163, 198–99, 203–4, 207,
evil, 35, 45, 66, 72–73, 78, 87–90, 94, 218, 234, 238–39; see also promise,
103–4, 114, 129, 162–65, 167, 174, temporality
352 Index
Fynsk, Christopher, 107, 109 137–38, 142, 150, 154–55, 165,

171–72, 174, 187, 198, 204, 218,
gathering (versammeln, Versam- 225, 227, 235–36, 241, 281, 283,
mlung), 48, 50, 55, 58, 60, 63, 66, 285, 295, 303, 319, 321, 327; see
74, 80, 85, 92, 103, 112–16, 119–20, also orientation
123–29, 135–39, 142–44, 148, 153, Hegel, G. W. F., 6–8, 11, 15–17,
159–63, 167, 184–90, 199, 201, 22–23, 37, 41–43, 50, 77, 79–80,
203–7, 210–12, 222, 224, 233, 238, 83–85, 102, 108, 145, 157, 173, 180,
241, 250–51 188–89, 192–93, 195, 212, 230, 236,
geistig (spiritual), 47–48, 65–66, 238, 254
69–79, 74, 77–83, 86, 89, 91, 95, Heraclitus, 9, 70, 100, 102, 108,
101, 173 113–15, 119–28, 136–37, 177, 211,
geistlich (spiriting), 63–66, 69–70, 74, 252
79, 83, 86, 89, 91, 94–96, 101–2, heritage (das Erbe), 70, 72, 75, 91,
142, 151–52, 173–74, 79, 83, 86, 112, 129; see also legacy
89, 91, 94–96, 101–2, 142, 151–52, hermeneutics, 6, 42, 95, 117, 135, 140
173–74, 192–93, 215, 253, 290, 296, Hesiod, 102, 124
300; see also gheis historicity (Geschichtlichkeit), 5–8,
Gelassenheit (releasement), 80, 117–18 109; see also epochality
Genet, Jean, 16, 26, 228 history, 5–11, 41–43, 48–49, 55, 64,
gentleness (die Sanftmut), 26, 29, 66, 70, 72–74, 80–82, 87–88, 91–93,
59, 62–63, 92–93, 105, 118, 125, 103–5, 109, 114, 126–29, 138, 158,
129, 153–55, 159, 162–64, 168–69, 162, 166–67, 178, 180, 196–99, 210,
173–77, 184, 199, 203–8, 229–30, 217, 230, 233–34, 238, 246
232–34, 241, 265, 267, 277, 289, Hölderlin, Friedrich, 29, 50, 70,
291, 293, 295, 299, 301, 309, 311, 90–93, 102–3, 113, 115, 120–22,
319, 329, 335, 345 125–27, 133, 139–40, 145–46,
gheis, 66, 94, 100–1, 173; see also 195–98, 208, 217–18, 227–28, 241,
ἀame 253
ghosts, 72, 81, 84, 88–91, 100, 106, humanism, 86, 90–91, 154, 195, 197
110, 152, 171, 174, 246–47, 283 humanity, 2, 37, 42, 48–49, 64–66, 73,
Goethe, J. W. von, 34, 197, 232 83–84, 86, 90–91, 101, 105, 154,
grammatology, 7, 39, 51, 54, 237 158–63, 181, 197, 199, 232, 240,
grandchildren, 100, 180–81, 104, 231, 273, 285, 293, 303, 309, 319, 327,
299, 303, 307 346–47
grandfathers, 17, 164, 181 humankind, 13, 37, 56, 61–65 85, 96,
Greek language, ancient, 7, 13, 25, 36, 105, 147–48, 156–64, 194, 196, 199,
54–55, 61, 70, 90–91, 103, 107, 111, 215, 217, 229–33, 239, 247, 295,
121–23, 127, 136, 139, 141, 165, 305, 346
178, 180, 196–97, 209–10, 247 Husserl, Edmund, 5–6, 86–87, 196,
Grimm Brothers, the, 2, 100 203, 213–14; see also phenomenol-
ogy
hands, x, 3, 5, 9, 11, 25, 32, 44,
47–67, 69, 73, 76–77, 95–96, 107–8, idiom, 10, 15, 45, 47–49, 59–60, 65,
119, 121–22, 129, 131, 133, 135, 74, 146–47, 153, 173–76, 187, 197,
Index 353
202, 205, 207–10, 213, 217, 226, MacDonald, Christie V., 16n2,
228 199–200
incest, 16, 66, 164, 230, 234, 237–38, McNeill, William C., 33n7, 55
240, 246, 253 magnetism, ix–x, 2–3, 12–13, 18, 21,
individuation, 31, 35–39, 43, 54, 62, 24–26, 58–59, 66, 70, 85, 93, 113,
154, 165, 167–68, 200 160, 164, 199, 223–25, 227–30, 232,
Irigaray, Luce, 238–39 236, 242–43, 248, 252, 254
Mallarmé, Stéphane, 212–13, 228, 251
Jesus Christ, 145n5, 191–94, 254 de Man, Paul, 152, 209
Jews, Judaism, 103, 105, 128, 172, Mediterranean, 128, 141, 196, 198
194, 241 Melville, Herman, 44, 177, 186, 241
Joyce, James, 191–92, 223 memory, 57, 97–98, 211n13, 215–16,
239
Kafka, Franz, 145, 228, 237 metaphor, 3, 6–8, 13, 16, 139, 240
Kant, Immanuel, 5, 12, 15, 21, 37, 52, metaphysics, 5–6, 9–15, 17, 22–23,
55n4, 56–57, 118 29–30, 32–35, 42, 49, 51, 54, 72–73,
Klages, Ludwig, 82, 92, 119 76–77, 80–93, 99, 101, 104–5,
Kleist, H. von, 121 112–15, 122, 124, 128, 133, 138,
Kraus, Karl, 60, 145, 250, 270–71, 308 140, 147, 150, 158, 167, 173, 177n4,
178, 190, 196n11, 208–11, 217, 234,
Lacan, Jacques, 29, 37–38, 136, 196, 238
210, 229, 242 method, 19, 44, 65, 79, 84, 133, 135,
latency, 162–63, 167, 229, 239 139–40, 143
Latin language, 1, 8, 13, 31, 36, 45, metontology, 28n6, 29, 158
49, 70, 90, 94, 103, 112, 141, 146n6, metonymy, 143, 150–53, 160
148, 187, 196–97 Mitdasein, Mitsein (“being-with-
Leavey Jr., J. P., 3–4, 59 others”), 21, 23–24, 32, 35, 43, 108,
legacy (das Erbe), 129, 215; see also 110
heritage moment (der Augenblick), 1, 97–100,
Leibniz, Gottfried Wilhelm, 16n2, 22, 113, 138, 143, 156n8, 190, 193,
27, 31–32, 82, 158, 247 223–24, 239n5, 252–53; see also
logocentrism, 55, 142, 210 eyes
love, lovers, 16–18, 21, 25, 29, 31, monstration, monstrosity, v, 43,
34, 50, 53, 58–60, 85, 92–93, 105, 50–55, 57–58, 75, 87, 200, 252
107–8, 111–20, 123–25, 132, 139, moon, the, 193, 243, 247, 287, 295,
143–44, 147, 158–62, 172n2, 175n3, 339, 343; see also lunar
183–85, 191, 200–2, 209, 223–28, mothers, 16, 32, 49, 122, 172, 181–82,
231–34, 237–39, 249–55, 261, 263, 222, 242, 246–47, 249–50, 277, 315,
267, 269, 275, 285, 293, 309, 311, 327
315, 317, 321, 327, 329, 333, 337, mourning, 4, 63, 112–14, 120, 142,
339, 341, 345, 347 151, 180–82, 211, 231–32, 239n5,
lunar, xii, 38, 100, 159, 161, 181, 184, 240, 244, 320–21
193, 221, 225–26, 231–37, 247, 253, Musil, Robert, 60, 87, 240, 248–49
259, 287, 291, 303, 307, 325; see
also moon Naas, Michael, 177n4, 194n9, 200n12
354 Index
nation, 49, 60, 64, 70, 82, 88, 90, 102, 50, 62, 77–78, 80, 92–97, 100–5,
113, 121, 128–29, 168, 172, 209, 115–16, 120, 122, 125–27, 131,
217, 237; see also fatherland 135–38, 143, 146, 157–58, 182, 190,
nationalism, nationality, ix, 3–4, 194, 203, 209–10, 218, 237–38, 247,
11–12, 15, 17, 22, 47, 60, 87, 127, 252
134n3, 146–47, 164, 171n1, 173, others, xii, 21, 28n. 5, 32, 39, 43, 49,
195–96, 207–9, 215, 217–18, 22, 60–61, 111, 123, 128, 136, 159–60,
228 165, 168, 171, 183, 189, 211, 232,
Nazism, 49, 81, 106, 115–16, 125; see 255, 267, 285, 339, 347; see also
also Third Reich Mitdasein, Mitsein
negativity, 5, 19, 26–30, 35–45, 48, 74,
83, 91, 102, 112, 167, 178; see also pain (der Schmerz), 93, 128, 141–42,
nothing 145n5, 152, 160–61, 232, 269, 279,
neuter, ix, 1–2, 22–24, 27, 30, 35, 44, 285, 308–9
148 paranoetic thinking, 118–19, 211n13
neutral, ix, 22–24, 26–37, 39, 41, Parmenides, 53–54, 157
43–46, 134–35, 171, 226, 230 past, the, 7–8, 105–6, 116, 155, 190,
Nietzsche, Friedrich, x, 4, 8–9, 15–16, 229, 252; see also history, temporal-
22, 54, 69–70, 81–82, 91–92, 101, ity
114, 122–24, 136, 140, 151, 154, Paul, Hermann, 1, 48, 100, 181
158–59, 190, 196n11, 199, 210, 215, Peeters, Benoit, 53n3, 146n6
223, 242 phantasm, 102, 167, 169, 174, 188–89,
nostalgia, 10, 93, 113–14, 120, 209 194–95, 204, 211, 229–30, 233,
nothing, the (das Nichts), 5, 14, 23, 238–39; see also dream
28, 40, 43, 78, 84–85, 88, 242; see phenomenology, xi, 3, 6, 8, 12, 17,
also negativity 23, 40, 69, 75, 78, 82, 116–18, 144,
196n11, 211n13, 254
oblivion of being (Seinsvergessenheit), phonocentrism, 55, 142, 210
9, 13, 42, 112, 114, 167, 245 placement (Erörterung), ix, 19, 25, 59,
Occident, t he, 64, 90, 103, 196, 203–4, 62, 65, 70, 93, 95, 135–43, 145n5,
208–9, 233; see also West, Western 146–52, 158–60, 165, 172–73,
ontic, 19, 21–24, 27–28, 31, 41, 50, 184–87, 195, 199, 201–2, 213, 221,
52, 72, 137, 147 225–33, 237–38, 252–54
ontological difference, 3, 8–10, 16, Plato, 6, 17, 21, 25–26, 55, 74, 90,
19–48, 73, 84, 108, 112, 125, 167, 113, 147, 150, 158, 173, 247
210 Platonism, 42–44, 65–66, 70, 74,
ontology, fundamental, 1, 5–6, 9–10, 79, 86, 91–96, 99–105, 119, 145,
12–13, 19–48, 50, 57, 72–77, 80, 82, 147–53, 159, 162, 166–67, 173–74,
84, 98, 122, 129, 150, 155, 158, 227 187–90, 198, 203–4, 207, 227, 230,
orientation, 55–57, 125, 155; see also 234, 253–54
hands plenipotence (die Übermacht), 28, 34,
Orient, the, 103, 196 36
original, origins, 5, 7–8, 11–12, 23, pli, le (“the fold”), 63, 206, 212–13;
27, 29–31, 35–36, 38–39, 43–44, see also simple, simplicity, twofold
Index 355
poetizing (Dichten), 72, 86, 125, 141, resoluteness, resolve ( Entschlossenheit),

187, 231; see also rhythm, song 8, 30, 80, 99, 113, 144, 167, 186
polemic, 34, 70, 82, 116–22; see also rhythm, xi, 133–34, 139–43, 151, 200,
struggle 243; see also poetizing
polysemy (die Mehrdeutigkeit), 60, 63, Rilke, R. M., 86, 176, 228–29
65, 180, 185–90, 203–4, 211, 218, Rimbaud, Arthur, 149–51
233, 252
positivity, 19, 27–30, 35–39, 41–46, sacrifice, 122, 126–27
112, 116, 169, 190, 253 Sallis, John, x–xi, 2–4, 53, 131
presence, 6–16, 53, 72, 78, 97, 111, Schelling, F. W. J., 21–22, 26, 34–35,
115, 120–23, 128, 133n2, 136, 167, 70, 87, 89, 91–93, 103–4, 223, 254
178, 209–12, 215, 229, 237, 245; see Schleiermacher, Friedrich, 90, 247
also proximity Schmitt, Carl, 115, 120, 126
present, the, 7–8, 10, 12, 40, 42, 77, sciences, natural, 52, 81, 88, 121, 187,
97, 106, 108, 117, 119, 198, 229 194n9, 197; see also biology
promise, xii, 10, 38, 47–48, 50, 53, sciences, social, 20, 136, 138, 230; see
59, 63, 65, 71, 92–99, 104–5, 122, also anthropology, psychology
150, 157, 159–64, 169, 177–80, 195, self, selfhood, 7, 9–10, 12–15, 23,
197–99, 207–10, 217–19, 229, 238, 30–32, 34–35, 38, 45, 108
253 serenity, 150, 167, 177–80, 183–85,
propriation, see Ereignis 206–7, 226, 235, 240, 289; see also
proximity, 12–14, 23, 54, 56, 79, 90, 115 repose, tranquillity
psychoanalysis, 136–39, 145, 163, sex, sexuality, ix, 2–4, 8, 10, 16,
183–84, 189, 194, 229–30, 248; see 19–46, 47–48, 50, 59, 62–64, 66,
also Freud 85, 93–94, 96, 103n5, 111–14, 132,
psychology, 20, 32, 44, 57, 75, 230 134–36, 139, 157, 159–69, 173–76,
179–85, 187–94, 199–206, 209,
questioning (das Fragen), 22–23, 36, 212, 216–18, 221–22, 226, 229–30,
55, 71–72, 75–76, 81, 97–98, 137; 247–54
see also thinking, Zusage, Zuspruch silence (Schweigen), 20, 22, 26–27,
55, 98, 103, 106, 139–41, 148, 151,
race, racism, ix, 2, 22, 25, 31, 47–48, 162–63, 176, 181, 185–87, 190, 229,
52, 61–62, 81, 86, 91, 101, 105, 158, 246, 249, 258–59, 262–67, 272–77,
164–65, 185, 207, 218, 231–32, 238 284–95, 300–3, 306–7, 310–11,
“Rectorate Address,” the, 79–80, 86, 332–33, 336–39, 344–45
101, 113–16, 119–20, 124 simple, simplicity (Einfalt, einfältig),
religion, 20–21, 38–39, 45, 81, 88, 50, 81, 162, 161, 191–92, 202–9,
99–100, 105–6, 121, 165, 173–74, 212–13, 221–22
194n9, 241, 254 sisters, xii, 16–18, 85, 93, 100, 134,
repose (die Ruhe), 126, 141, 151, 174, 139, 143–45, 155, 158–68, 175, 177,
177–79, 186, 231, 233, 235, 262–63, 183–86, 191–94, 202, 210, 218,
268–69, 270–71, 286–87, 288–89, 221–23, 225–30, 233–42, 245–54,
292–93, 316–17, 328–29, 336–37, 271, 277, 287, 291, 301, 305–7, 311,
340–41, 344–45 317, 321, 325–27, 345–47
356 Index
solitude, 32, 50, 73, 82, 103, 136, thrownness (die Geworfenheit), 8,
138–39, 145, 148, 167 28n5, 30, 39, 41, 43, 84
song, 43, 57–59, 63–64, 100, 126, trace, 7–12, 34, 51, 74, 87, 89, 96,
141–42, 145n5, 160, 183, 202, 205, 100, 117, 136, 139, 187, 191, 212,
219–22, 232–35, 266–67, 270–71, 224, 240
274–77, 292–95, 300–3, 326–29; see tranquillity, 149, 159, 162, 167–68,
also pain, poetizing, rhythm 230, 239, 242, 295, 299; see also
sons, 16, 181–82, 231, 271 repose, serenity
spacing, 12, 43, 96, 201–2 transcendence, 14, 22, 27, 29–30,
strange (fremd), 30–32, 34, 39, 44, 62, 32–35, 39–43, 52, 82, 85, 88, 134,
69, 96, 127, 133, 143–44, 146–53, 212
166–69, 174, 177, 180, 184, 193–94, translation, xi, xii, 5, 10, 24, 28n6,
207, 217, 219, 226, 235, 237, 246, 45, 47, 53, 60, 64, 70, 78, 90, 103,
271, 289, 301, 327; see also foreign, 109, 111–12, 123–24, 137, 145–48,
uncanny 152, 154, 164–65, 172n2, 173, 175,
stranger, the, 48, 62, 97, 129, 134, 179–80, 183, 187, 193, 201, 203,
144–45, 148–50, 152–53, 160, 168, 205, 214, 217, 226, 236, 251
173, 177–79, 184, 189, 215, 218, truth, 9, 13–14, 22, 25, 29, 39–40, 74,
221, 230, 234–37, 253, 271, 277, 80, 117–18, 121, 126–27, 138, 154,
295–97 210, 212, 243, 254, 267, 269, 317
stroke (der Schlag), 25–26, 30, 45–46, twilight, 89, 96, 265, 275, 277, 281,
50, 61–62, 66, 90, 96, 104–5, 120, 289, 291, 293, 299, 301, 303, 343,
125, 129, 132–35, 139, 144, 147–48, 345; see also dawn, dusk
159–68, 172, 175, 180, 185–87, 190, twofold (die Zwiefalt), 27, 46, 50,
195, 201–8, 213, 217–18, 27, 234, 59–66, 90, 92–93, 105, 125, 129,
237–38, 253 134, 139, 143, 159–69, 173–76, 180,
struggle (πόλεµος, der Kampf), 29, 62, 186, 195, 199, 203–5, 212–13, 229
78, 107–8, 112–27, 142, 244
sun, the, 83–84, 95–96, 109–10, 152, unborn, the, 100, 145, 154–56, 163,
173–74, 215, 224, 238, 244, 247 178–82, 186, 194, 231, 234, 238,
supplement, logic of the, 16, 39, 42, 268–69, 274–75, 306–7, 314–15
165–66, 212, 235, 237–38, 253 uncanny, the, 14, 32, 62, 84, 97, 115,
119, 134n3, 146, 166, 171, 179,
technology, 38, 52, 60, 71–72, 119, 212, 230, 234, 237; see also foreign,
128, 181n. 5, 215–16 strange
temporality, 6–7, 11–12, 22, 30, 40, unconcealment (die Unverborgenheit),
43, 77–78, 95, 98, 142, 156n8, 180; 29, 122; see also truth
see also future, past, present undecidability, 104, 166, 195, 228,
“they” (das Man), 29–30, 44, 111 252, 254
thinking (Denken), 57, 60, 90, 98, university, the, 78–81, 120, 128; see
128, 135, 141, 190, 209–10, 215 also “Rectorate Address”
Third Reich, the, 172n. 2, 197; see
also Nazism Valéry, Paul, 87–88, 133n2
Index 357
violence, 29, 36, 54, 80, 87, 95, 105–6, Wittgenstein, Ludwig, 228–29, 251
117–18, 122–25, 144, 159, 162, 164, World War I, 116, 180, 227, 246,
190, 194, 218, 220, 231, 249; see 304–7
also dominion World War II, 115–16, 124, 128, 196,
voice, xii, 9, 13, 32, 51–55, 100, 214
107–14, 126–30, 142, 159–61, 167, writing, 17, 25, 47, 51–56, 59–60, 95,
177n4, 184, 193, 200–1, 221, 226, 105, 120, 145, 166–67, 187, 202–3,
232, 235–37, 242, 247, 253, 291, 207, 212, 218n15, 225, 227, 237
305, 311
youth, 99, 175–80, 237, 246, 249, 287,
West, Western, 9, 55, 59, 63–66, 88, 327
114, 120, 125, 128, 147, 162, 167,
178, 183, 197, 199, 202, 232, 234, Zusage, Zuspruch (assent, address),
239, 292–93; see also Occident 71–72, 97–98, 137

(David Farrell Krell) Phantoms of The Other Four

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Abbreviations of Works Cited xiii

1. Geschlecht I: Sexual Difference, Ontological Difference 19

2. Geschlecht II: Heidegger’s Singular Hand 47

4. Geschlecht IV: Heidegger’s Philopolemological Ear 107

5. Geschlecht III: A Truncated Typescript 131

6. Geschlecht III: The Phantom of the Other 171

7. The Magnetism of Georg and Gretl Trakl 223

Appendix A: Poems Discussed in the Present Volume 257

Appendix B: Poems Undiscussed 311

D uring t he 1980s, D errida w rote f our m ajor t exts o n t he w ord a nd

Not m any y ears a go, I p ublished t wo b rief acco unts o f D errida’s

1978.2 I s ent t he p iece t o D errida o n J anuary 4, 1983, a fter h aving r ead

book, a ttempts t o co ntinue t he m editation o n Trakl, n ow en gaging b oth

A L’animal que donc je suis. Paris: Galilée, 2006. Translated by David

DE De l’esprit: Heidegger et la question. P aris: Ga lilée, 1987. T rans-

edited by C hristie V . M cDonald. N ew Y ork: S chocken B ooks,

BW Basic Writings. 2nd ed. San Francisco: HarperCollins, 1993.

Ni 1–4 Nietzsche, 4 vols. 2nd ed. San Francisco: HarperCollins, 1991.

53 Hölderlins Hymne “Der Ister.” Gesamtausgabe v ol. 53. F reiburg

Works by the Author

AO Derrida and Our Animal Others: Derrida’s Final Seminar, “The

DL Daimon Life: Heidegger and Life‑Philosophy. Bloomington a nd

Works by Other Authors

7, 8 F. W. J. S chelling, Abhandlung über das Wesen der menschlichen

Montinari. Berlin and Munich: Walter de Gruyter and Deutscher

F our g enerations o f a n un pronounceable G erman w ord? A n un pro‑

1. Even if H eidegger i s p ursuing a “ fundamental o ntol‑

Sophist and Timaeus concerning the philosophical giants

and—last n ot le ast—Heidegger. N ietzsche’s r ejection o f a ll t he p utatively

only t o m ake t he a rgument o f “ Ousia a nd G rammè” t elling b ut a lso t o

ἀ e o riginary, t he a uthentic, i s det ermined a s t he “ proper”

No doubt t he locus classicus of t he t heme of proximity and propri‑

and “ the t ruth o f b eing.” ἀ e w ord l’aimantation, “magnetism,” is us ed

presence. Derrida writes: “ἀ e proximate is the proper; the proper is what

other t han t ry t o t hink t he s ame t hing, “ presence.” B ecause t he mi ssing

2. Another place to lo ok for anticipations of t he Geschlecht series, especially t he first of t he es ‑

to the lives of Georg and Gretl Trakl—both of which clearly “magnetize”

D errida co nfesses him self r iveted b y H eidegger’s u se o f t he w ord

truly co nceive o f a Mitsein and a Mitdasein, that i s, a b eing w ith o thers,

it i s c lear a bout t he “ magnetism” o f H eidegger’s Trakl es say, b ut a lso in

This es say, li ke the f ollowing one (“ The H and o f Heidegger:

Much could b e m ade of t his b eing m agnetized, aimanté(e), a word

as plenipotence [Übermacht] b e understood; yet not by interpreting it in

By means of such manifestly negative predicates, one must be

It m ay b e t hat H eidegger i s co ntemplating an a s y et un heard‑of

“they” in question is wretchedly conservative or wildly liberated—and the

has to do with the individuating of Dasein, die Vereinzelung, yet whether

Only because Dasein as such is determined by selfhood can an

not prove to be appropriate. It is as though Heidegger were casting about

reappears d uring Heidegger’s 1928–29 “ Introduction to Philosophy,” a

In i ts es sence, t he b eing t hat w e in e ach c ase a re, h uman

7. I a m g rateful t o William C. M cNeill f or this r eference to H eidegger’s 1928–29 Einleitung in

i mmediately there to confirm it. I n other words, the alteration in Hei‑

and preprogrammed r esponses ( Hingenommensein, Eingenommensein), a