The power of the impossibles 2

The power of the impossibles 2
The Other side of Psychoanalysis
By Jacques Lacan

Vincnnes, precisely.


They were, it seems, pleased with what I said there, pleased with me. It wasn’t reciprocal. I was not very pleased with Vincennes.


Despite there being one nice person who tried to fill up the first row, to make a Vincennes, there was clearly no one from Vincennes there, or hardly anyone, only the ears of those most worthy of awarding me a good mark. It was not quite what I had been expecting, especially as my teaching, it seems, has been propagated there. There are times when I can be aware of a certain slack.


But then, there was nonetheless just what was needed to indicate to us the point of agreement that there can be between la Minute and Les Temps modernes. I only mention it because , as you will see, this touches on today’s topic—how to behave in the face of culture.


Sometimes something minor is enough to throw a glimmer of light, a recollection which nobody knows how I myself became aware of. Once you recall the publication of a certain tape recording in Les Temps modernes, the relationship with La Minute is striking? Try this, it’s fascinating, I have done it. You cut out paragraphs from the two newspapers, you mix them up together somewhere, and you draw them out. I assure you that, except for the paper, it won’t be so easy to work out which is which.


This is what must make it possible for us to take the question in another way than on the basis of the objection I made just before to touching on things in a certain tone, with a certain word, out of fear that they might get carried away by buffoonery. Begin, instead, with the following fact, that the buffoonery is already present. Perhaps, by adding a bit of shame to the mix, who knows, this might keep it in check.


In short, I am playing the game of ‘ You hear me because I am talking to you.” Otherwise, there would , rather, be an objection to you hearing me, since in many cases this prevents you from hearing what I am saying. And it’s a pity, for at least the younger ones among you have for a fair while now also been capable of saying it without me. You lack for that, precisely, a bit of shame. It might come to you.


Obviously, you do not find it under the hooves of horses, of a hobby-horse even less, but the furrows of the alethosphere, as I said, that take care of you, and even careful you all alive already, would perhaps already be quite a sufficient load of shame.


Appreciate why it was that Pascal and Kant fidgeted about like two valets in the process of acting like Vatel with respect to you. There has been a lack of truth up above for three centuries. The service has arrived nevertheless, reheating on demand, even as the musician has from time to time, as you know. Don’t make such a long face, you are being served, you can say that there is no longer any shame.


These boxes about which, when I say that they are empty of chatter, you wonder what is bothering me—well then, quickly make provision in them for enough shame so that when the festivities begin, there is no lack of seasoning.


You will say to me, “ What’s the use of shame? If that is what the other side of psychoanalysis is, we don’t want any.” My reply to you, “ You’ve got enough to open a shop.’ If you are not yet aware of this, then do a bit of analysis, as they say. You will see this vapid air of yours run up against an outlandish shame of living.



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