Had some relatively high expectations going into this. Zupančič has been on my radar for a good while and, bewildering editing errors notwithstanding, this slim volume did not dissapoint.
Like any good Lacanian, she is incredibly sensitive to the intersubjective/social dimension of psychoanalysis, whether it be on the plane of ontology, practical philosophy, or aesthetics.
In fact, three realms situate her three “interventions”, which, in her own words, interrogate “sex, ontology, cause, freedom, comedy, horror”… Quite an ambitious array of problems to be sure, but somehow Zupančič manages to tackle them all head on with admirable concision. She sometimes reminded me of a more programmatic, focused Zizek, raising examples from the wider cultural repository only when it is absolutely integral for shedding light on a difficult concept.
The first intervention, Sexuality and Ontology, kicks things off with a bang, unapologetically correcting gross misconceptions about how we might understand sexuality in Freud and Lacan. Zupančič is rightly critical of the tendency for philosophical appropriations of psychoanalytic theory to either minimize or outright ignore sexuality in spite of its rather central importance.
She first attempts to explain this “missed encounter” with reference to Freud’s Three Essays on the Theory of Sexuality, which rediscovered sexuality as an intrinsically meaningless deviation from an absented centre. Zupančič’s exposition of Freud’s findings (with reference to their later adoption and elaboration by Lacan) is really quite thorough. She explains how the sexual drive emerges as a partial surplus, a self-perpetuating remainder from the satisfaction of need, devoid of an object and yet no less operative in acquiring “satisfaction without attaining its aim”. For Freud, all sexuality is a consitutively “deviant”, unnatural imbalance. It is the “edge of meaning”, not its substantive ground (as it is often misunderstood to be).
Zupančič dwells on the sexual as “coextensive with the emerging of the subject” - an incredibly important idea for Lacan’s understanding of libido in terms of not merely loss/lack, but indeed what Zupančič calls “a radical ontological impasse”. Our unconcious cannot be explained by the purely “subjective” store of repressed materials; instead, it must be understood as a function of objective reality’s “fundamental inconsistency”, secreted through the Other’s lack to which our repressions cannot but correspond. This void’s obfuscation by sexual meaning is precisely where psychoanalysis intervenes, peeling back this veneer in order to lay bare the reality of our ontological impasse.
The second intervention - Freedom and Cause - asked plenty of important questions but I can’t pretend I wasn’t hoping for a more clear-cut articulation of how exactly we are to think freedom psychoanalytically. Then again, I can only expect so much in 80 pages (which is, if this review is anything to go by, still a colossal amount).
Building upon the first intervention, Zupančič situates the subject as the effect of the structure’s lack (or contradiction). Armed with the basics, she dives headfirst into the Laplanche/Lacan debate over childhood sexual seduction’s relation to the unconcious and fantasy. The former argues that it is a distraction to bicker over whether a case of seduction either occured in reality or was constructed in fantasy. Instead, where we should really direct our attention is the traversal of the two in what he calls the “material reality of the enigmatic message”: the irreducible remainder of ambiguity in meaning (an idea Zupančič will later apply to theatre in the final intervention).
Following Lacan, Zupančič doesn’t quite accept this explanation. What Laplanche misses is the fact that, in order for the enigma to appear at all, it must be logically preceded by the acceptance of meaning-as-such — or in other words, the presumption that the Other knows what they want. Without this move, the other would never be able to become the Big Other, thereby foreclosing symbolic coherency and the very emergence of the unconscious as such.
The unconcious is therefore always already an interpretation, leaving psychoanalysis to pick up the slack and untangle the synthetic knots of repressed material. Like Zizek, Zupančič indicates that this inextricable relationship between the unconscious and the Other is precisely where the materialism of psychoanalysis lies.
Speaking of inextricable relationships, let’s not ignore jouissance and repression, which is to say: enjoy your symptom! Remember our “ontological impasse”? Well, if repression is a response to the void in reality — itself only rendered coherent by the Other’s knowledge — then, given that jouissance cannot emerge without repression, it too acquires a decidedly social character.
Based on these findings we also get a neat and unexpected critique of Levinasian ethics. Indeed, Zupančič makes the firm claim that any ethics predicated on the Other not only “elevates repression to the level of the ethical principle”, but is indeed “definitely foreign to the ethics of psychoanalysis”. For all the commotion about the primacy of the other, Zupančič argues, ironically enough, that it is ultimately reduced to little more than a tool for the subject to assume accountability for their unconscious.
The subject encounters the lacking Other as an interminable project… What does this remind you of? The “vicious cycle of the superego”? Zupančič sure thinks so. I can already hear the phenomenologists gnashing their teeth and biding their time, but hey, there you have it.
This chapter rounds things off with a compelling rethinking of the Big Other’s death - the characteristically modern, increasingly pervasive acceptance that the Big Other does not exist. Zupančič totally flips the parameters of the discourse, insisting that what has really died (or is disappearing) is the belief in the relationship between the Big Other and the small other. The former is thereby unleashed from any grounding in the latter, receding into a transcendence where it is more inviolable than ever before. Look no further than the frantic attempts to address a socioeconomic system appearing with increasingly ineffable abstraction, beyond the reach of political agents.
After wrestling with the Other for so long, you would think that we’ve earned some welcome respite; unfortunately for our innocent joys, however, Zupančič isn’t done with us yet: not even comedy makes it out unscathed. I’ve always been of the mind that, in the words of Mark Twain, explaining comedy is like dissecting a frog: you learn a lot in the process, but in the end you kill it. Perhaps that’s why I found Freud’s joke book so torturous…
That being said, I certainly had a far better time with Zupančič, who wastes no time in setting the stakes of the third intervention between comedy and the uncanny. Of course we can hardly escape the Other, who here reappears in full force in order to look after our knowledge of reality so that we might “suspend disbelief” and enjoy our fiction. Should the Other, to put it crudely, fail to safeguard our knowledge, if we can no longer rely upon the Other as a support, then comedy becomes uncanny: the anxiety of the lack coming to lack.
I have realised that if one thing is certain in this life it’s this: the Other may not know, but Zupančič certainly does.