Archive for the ‘精神分析四个基本观念’ Category

Concept 14d

December 1, 2011

Concept 14d

Jacques Lacan
雅克 拉冈

The Four Fundamental Concepts of Psychoanalysis

Partial Object and its Circuit


J . -A. Miller: The question concerns the relation between the drive and the real, and the differences between the object of the drive, that of phantasj and that of desire.


LACAN: The object of the drive is to be situated at the level of what I have metaphorically called a headless subjectification, a subjectification without subject, a bone, a structure, an outline, which represents one side of the topology. The other side is that which is responsible for the fact that a subject, through his relations with the signifier, is a subject-with-holes (sujet troué).


These holes came from somewhere. In his first constructions, his first networks of signifying crossroads to become stabilized, Freud was reaching towards something that, in the subject, is intended to maintain to the greatest possible degree what I have called homeostasis.


This does not simply mean the crossing of a certain threshold of excitement, but also a distribution of ways. Freud even uses metaphors that assign a diameter to these ways, which permit the maintenance, the ever equal dispersal, of a certain investment.


Somewhere Freud says quite categorically that it is the pressure of what, in sexuality, has to be repressed in order to maintain the pleasure principle—namely, the libido—that has
made possible the progress of the mental apparatus itself, as such and, for example, the establishment in the mental apparatus of that possibility of investment that we call Aufmerksamkeit, the possibility of attention. The determination of the functioning of the Real-Ich, which both satisfies the pleasure principle and, at the same time, is invested without defence by the upsurge of sexuality—this is what is responsible for its structure.


At this level, we are not even forced to take into account any subjectification of the subject. The subject is an apparatus.


This apparatus is something lacunary, and it is in the lacuna that the subject establishes the function of a certain object, qua lost object. It is the status of the objet a in so far as it is present in the drive.


In the phantasy, the subject is frequently unperceived, but he is always there, whether in the dream or in any of the more or less developed forms of day-dreaming. The subject situates
himself as determined by the phantasy.


The phantasy is the support of desire; it is not the object that is the support of desire. The subject sustains himself as desiring in relation to an ever more complex ensemble. This
is apparent enough in the form of the scenario it assumes, in which the subject, more or less recognizable, is somewhere, split, divided, generally double, in his relation to the object, which usually does not show its true face either.


Next time, I shall come back to what I have called the structure of perversion. Strictly speaking, it is an inverted effect of the phantasy. It is the subject who determines himself as object, in
his encounter with the division of subjectivity.


I will show you—I must stop here today because of the time, I am very sorry to say—that the subject assuming this role of the object is precisely what sustains the reality of the situation of what is called the sado-masochistic drive, and which is only a single point, in the masochistic situation itself. It is in so far as the subject makes himself the object of another will that the sado-masochistic drive not only closes up, but constitutes itself.


It is only in a second stage, as Freud shows us in this text, that the sadistic desire is possible in relation to a phantasy. The sadistic desire exists in a crowd of configurations, and also in
the neuroses, but it is not yet sadism in the strict sense.


I will ask you to look at my article Kant avec Sade, where you will see that the sadist himself occupies the place of the object, but without knowing it, to the benefit of another, for whose jouissance he exercises his action as sadistic pervert.


You see, then, several possibilities here for the funnction of the objet a, which is never found in the position of being the aim of desire. It is either pre-subjective, or the foundation of an
identification of the subject, or the foundation of an identification disavowed by the subject. In this sense, sadism is merely the disavowal of masochism. This formula will make it possible to illuminate many things concerning the true nature of sadism.


But the object of desire, in the usual sense, is either a phantasy that is in reality the support of desire, or a lure. On this subject of the lure, which poses at the same time all the previous questions that you put forward just now concerning the relation of the subject to the real, the analysis that Freud gives of love enables us to make some progress.


The need Freud feels to refer to the relation of the Ich to the real in order to introduce the dialectic of love—whereas, strictly speaking, the neutral real is the desexualized real—is
not introduced at the level of the drive. It is there that is to be found what, for us, will prove most valuable concerning how we should conceive of the function of love—namely, its fundamentally narcissistic structure.


There can be absolutely no doubt that there is a real. That the subject has a constructive relation with this real only within the narrow confines of the pleasure principle, of the pleasure principle unforced by the drive, this is—as we shall see next time—the point of emergence of the love object. The whole question is to discover how this love object may come to fulfill a role analogous with the object of desire—upon what equivocations
does the possibility for the love object of becoming an object of desire rest?


Have I thrown some light on your question?


J.-A. MILLER: Some light and some shadow.

米勒: 某些明白,某些模糊。
13 May 1964


Concept 14c

December 1, 2011

Concept 14c
Jacques Lacan
雅克 拉冈

The Four Fundamental Concepts of Psychoanalysis

Partial Object and its Circuit

Let us now follow Freud when he talks to us about Schaulust, seeing, being seen. Is it the same thing? How can it even be sustained that it can be that, except by inscribing it in terms of signifiers? Or is there, then, some other mystery? There is a quite different one, and, in order to introduce you to it, I have only to point out that Schaulust is manifested in perversion. I stress that the drive is not perversion. What constitutes the enigmatic character of Freud’s presentation derives precisely from the fact that he wishes to give us a radical structure—in which the subject is not yet placed. On the contrary, what
defines perversion is precisely the way in which the subject is placed in it.



We must read Freud’s text very attentively here. The value of Freud’s texts on this matter, in which he is breaking new ground, is that like a good archaeologist, he leaves the work of the dig in place—so that, even if it is incomplete, we are able to discover what the excavated objects mean. When Mr
Fenichel passes by the same ground, he does as one used to do, he gathers everything up, puts it in his pockets and in glass cases, without any kind of order, or at least in a completely arbitrary order, so that nothing can be found again.


What occurs in voyeurism? At the moment of the act of the voyeur, where is the subject, where is the object? I have told you that the subject is not there in the sense of seeing, at the level of the scopic drive. He is there as pervert and he is situated only at the culmination of the loop. As for the object—this is
what my topology on the blackboard cannot show you, but can allow you to admit—the loop turns around itself; it is a missile, and it is with it, in perversion, that the target is reached.



The object, here, is the gaze—the gaze that is the subject, which attains it, which hits the bull’s eye in target-shooting. I have only to remind you what I said of Sartre’s analysis. Although this analysis brings out the agency of the gaze, it is not at the level of the other whose gaze surprises the subject looking
through the keyhole. It is that the other surprises him, the subject, as entirely hidden gaze.



You grasp here the ambiguity of what is at issue when we speak of the scopic drive. The gaze is this object lost and suddenly refound in the conflagration of shame, by the introduction of the other. Up to that point, what is the subject trying to see? What he is trying to see, make no mistake, is the object as
absence. What the voyeur is looking for and finds is merely a shadow, a shadow behind the curtain. There he will phantasize any magic of presence, the most graceful of girls, for example, even if on the other side there is only a hairy athlete. What he is looking for is not, as one says, the phallus—but precisely its absence, hence the pre-eminence of certain forms as objects of his search.



What one looks at is what cannot be seen. If, thanks to tic’ introduction of the other, the structure of the drive appears, it is really completed only in its reversed form, in its return form, which is the true active drive. In exhibitionism what is intended by the subject is what is realized in the other. The true aim of desire is the other, as constrained, beyond his involvement in the scene. It is not only the victim who is concerned in exhibitionism, it is the victim as referred to some other who is looking at him.



Thus in this text, we have the key, the nodus, of what has been so much an obstacle to the understanding of masochism. Freud articulated in the most categorical way that at the outset of the sado-masochistic drive, pain has nothing to do with it. It is a question of a Herrschaft, of Bewdltigung, violence done to what?—to something that is so unspeakable that Freud arrives at the conclusion, and at the same time recoils from it, that its first model, in accordance with everything I have told you, is
to be found in a violence that the subject commits, with a view to mastery, upon himself.

因此,在这个本文,我们找到关键,一直以来阻碍我们了解受虐狂的关键点。佛洛伊德条分缕析地表达,刚开始时,虐待狂与受虐狂的驱力,跟痛苦没有丝毫没有关系,而是跟对于某个东西施加的暴力有关。这个东西无法言喻,佛洛伊德在结论时,已经抵达,而又退缩。这个东西,我一直在告诉你们。 我们能够找它的第一个模式,在主体为了控制自己,对于自己所从事的暴力。


He recoils from it. And with good reason. The ascetic who flagellates himself does it for a third party. Now, this is not what he is trying to convey. He wishes only to designate the return, the insertion on one’s own body, of the departure and the end of the drive.



At what moment, says Freud, do we see the possibility of pain introduced into the sado-masochistic drive?—the possibility of pain undergone by him who has become, at that moment, the subject of the drive. It is, he tells us, at the moment when the loop is closed, when it is from one pole to the other that there has been a reversal, when the other has come into play, when the subject has taken himself as the end, the terminus of the drive.


虐待狂与受虐狂若仅是为了掌控自己的一种驱力的观看,被观看,及回转无意识,则无关乎痛苦。会经历到痛苦,是在驱力迴圈的圈套,在符号界被封闭时,也就是拉康所谓的「缝合」suture或「锚定点」anchoring point,将符号界的小他者,误识为就是实在界的无意识大他者,而形成一种病征。

At this moment, pain comes into play in so far as the subject experiences it from the other. He will become, will be able to become, in his theoretical deduction, a sadistic subject, in so far as the completed loop of the drive will have brought into play the action of the other. What is at issue in the drive is finally revealed here—the course of the drive is the only form of transgression that is permitted to the subject in relation to the pleasure principle.



The subject will realize that his desire is merely a vain detour with the aim of catching the jouissance of the other—in so far as the other intervenes, he will realize that there is a jouissance beyond the pleasure principle.



The forcing of the pleasure principle by the effect of the partial drive—it is by this that we may conceive that the partial, ambiguous drives are installed at the limit of an Erhaltungstrieb, of the maintenance of a homeostasis, of its capture by the veiled face that is that of sexuality.


It is in so far as the drive is evidence of the forcing of the pleasure principle that it provides us with evidence that beyond the Real-Ich, another reality intervenes, and we shall see by what return it is this other reality, in the last resort, that has given to this Real-Ich its structure and diversification.


刚开始时,我一直被这个the other 困惑,搞不清楚the other是大他者?还是小他者?若是小他者,那跟小客体,有什么差别。译到这里,才开始有点明白。就实在界的无意识的大他者而言,这里的the other,指的是符号界的小他者,也就是小客体,但却被主体误认为就是实在界的大他者,而被缝合suture或锚定anchoring,而成为病征。

「快乐原则」pleasure principle及「真实自我」Real-Ich 都是弗洛伊德的术语,拉康则是在符号界the symbolic 之外,另外开辟一个「实在界」the real及「想象界」,来解释「快乐原则」及「真实自我」,不能仅是在符号界寻找,而要到实在界的无意识探本寻源。


雄伯通俗化拉康 142b

November 30, 2011

雄伯通俗化拉康 142b
Jacques Lacan
雅克 拉冈

The Four Fundamental Concepts of Psychoanalysis

Partial Object and its Circuit
Freud now introduces us to the drive by one of the most traditional ways, using at every moment the resources of the language, and not hesitating to base himself on something that belongs only to certain linguistic systems., the three voices, active, passive and reflexive. But this is merely an envelope. We must see that this signifying reversion is something other, something other than what it dresses in. What is fundamental at the level of each drive is the movement outwards and back in which it is structured.


Lacan maintains Freud’s distinction between drive (Trieb) and instinct (Instinkt). Drives differ from biological needs because they can never be satisfied and do not aim at an object but rather circle perpetually around it. The true source of jouissance is the repetition of the movement of this closed circuit. Lacan posits the drives as both cultural and symbolic constructs—to him, “the drive is not a given, something archaic, primordial.” He incorporates the four elements of the drives as defined by Freud (the pressure, the end, the object and the source) to his theory of the drive’s circuit: the drive originates in the erogenous zone, circles round the object, and returns to the erogenous zone. The three grammatical voices structure this circuit:
拉康主张,弗洛伊德区别驱力与本能的差异。驱力不同于生物上的需要,因为它们永远无法被满足,并且目标并不是朝向客体,代替的,驱力永远地环绕客体旋转。欢爽的真实的来源,就是这个封闭迴圈的动作的重复。拉康提出这个驱力,作为既是文化,又是符号的建构—对于拉康,「驱力并不是一个理所当然的假定,某件过时,原始的东西。」他将弗洛伊德定义的驱力的四个元素( 压力、目标、客体及来源),合并到他的驱力迴圈的的理论:驱力起源于性的敏感地带,环绕客体旋转,然后再回到性的敏感地带。有三个文法的语态,作为这个迴圈的结构。
1. the active voice (to see) 主动语态( 看见)
2. the reflexive voice (to see oneself) 反身语态 (看见自己)
3. the passive voice (to be seen) 被动语态 (让自己被看见)
The active and reflexive voices are autoerotic—they lack a subject. It is only when the drive completes its circuit with the passive voice that a new subject appears. Despite being the “passive” voice, the drive is essentially active: “to make oneself be seen” rather than “to be seen.” The circuit of the drive is the only way for the subject to transgress the pleasure principle.


Lacan identifies four partial drives: the oral drive (the erogenous zones are the lips, the partial object the breast), the anal drive (the anus and the feces), the scopic drive (the eyes and the gaze) and the invocatory drive (the ears and the voice). The first two relate to demand and the last two to desire. If the drives are closely related to desire, they are the partial aspects in which desire is realized—desire is one and undivided, whereas the drives are its partial manifestations
拉康辨认出四个部分驱力:口腔驱力(性感地带是嘴唇,部分客体是乳房),肛门驱力( 肛门及粪便),视觉驱力(眼睛及凝视),以及召唤驱力( 耳朵及声音)。前面两样跟要求有关,后两者跟欲望有关。假如这些驱力跟欲望息息相关,它们是欲望被满足时的两个部分。—欲望是一个整体,而且无法分裂;而驱力则是部分的展现。

It is remarkable that Freud can designate these two poles simply by using something that is the verb. Beschauen und beschaut werden, to see and to be seen, qualen and gequalt werden, to torment and to be tormented. This is because, from the outset, Freud takes it as understood that no part of this distance
covered can be separated from its outwards-and-back movement, from its fundamental reversion, from the circular character of the path of the drive.


Similarly, it is remarkable that, in order to illustrate the dimension of this Verkehrung, he should choose Schaulust, the pleasure of seeing, and what he cannot designate other than by the combination of two terms in sado-masochism. When he speaks of these two drives, and especially of masochism, he is careful to observe that there are not two stages in these drives, but three. One must distinguish the return into the circuit of the drive of that which appears—but also does not appear—in a third stage. Namely, the appearance of em neues Subjekt, to be understood as follows—not in the sense that there is already one, namely the subject of the drive, but in that what is new is the appearance of a subject. This subject, which is properly the other, appears in so far as the drive has been able to show its
circular course. It is only with its appearance at the level of the other that what there is of the function of the drive may be realized.



It is to this that I would now like to draw your attention. You see here, on the blackboard, a circuit formed by the curve of this rising and redescending arrow that crosses, Drang as it is in its origin, the surface constituted by what I defined last time as the rim, which is regarded in the theory as the source, the Quelle, that is to say, the so-called erogenous zone in the drive. The tension is always loop-shaped and cannot be separated from its return to the erogenous zone.


这个驱力的迴旋形状图,书本上有。可是我画不出来,也无法贴上影象档,不晓的Fullmetal 能不能帮忙找一下贴上来。否则光靠文字叙述,大家看得懂否?

Here we can clear up the mystery of the zielgelzemmt, of that form that the drive may assume, in attaining its satisfaction without attaining its aim—in so far as it would be defined by a biological function, by the realization of reproductive coupling. For the partial drive does not lie there. What is it?



Let us still suspend the answer, but let us concentrate on this term but, and on the two meanings it may present. In order to differentiate them, I have chosen to notate them here in a language in which they are particularly expressive, English. When you entrust someone with a mission, the aim is not what
he brings back, but the itinerary he must take. The aim is the way taken. The French word but may be translated by another word in English, goal. In archery, the goal is not the but either, it is not the bird you shoot, it is having scored a hit and thereby attained your but.



If the drive may be satisfied without attaining what, from the point of view of a biological totalization of function, would be the satisfaction of its end of reproduction, it is because it is a partial drive, and its aim is simply this return into circuit. This theory is present in Freud. He tells us somewhere that
the ideal model for auto-eroticism would be a single mouth kissing itself—a brilliant, even dazzling metaphor, in this respect so typical of everything he writes, and which requires only to be completed by a question. In the drive, is not this mouth what might be called a mouth in the form of an arrow?—a
mouth sewn up, in which, in analysis, we see indicating as clearly as possible, in certain silences, the pure agency of the oral drive, closing upon its own satisfaction.



In any case, what makes us distinguish this satisfaction from the mere auto-eroticism of the erogenous zone is the object that we confuse all too often with that upon which the drive closes —this object, which is in fact simply the presence of a hollow, a void, which can be occupied, Freud tells us, by any object, and whose agency we know only in the form of the lost object, the petit a. The objet petit a is not the origin of the oral drive. It is not introduced as the original food, it is introduced from the fact that no food will ever satisfy the oral drive, except by circumventing the eternally lacking object.



The question now confronting us is this—where is this circuit plugged in and, to begin with, is it spiral in form, that is to say, is the circuit of the oral drive continued by the anal drive, which would then be the following stage? Is it a case of dialectical progress being produced out of opposition? Even for
people who are used to us, it is already to carry the question rather far, in the name of some kind of mystery of development, to regard the thing as already acquired, inscribed in the organism.



This conception seems to be sustained by the fact that as far as the emergence of sexuality in a so-called completed form is concerned, we are certainly dealing with an organic process. But there is no reason to extend this fact to the relation between the other partial drives. There is no relation of production between one of the partial drives and the next.


The passage from the oral drive to the anal drive can be produced not by a process of maturation, but by the intervention of something that does not belong to the field of the drive—by the intervention, the overthrow, of the demand of the Other. If we introduce the other drives with which the series may be formed, and the number of which is fairly short, it is quite clear that you would find it very difficult indeed to situate in relation to the drives that I have just named, in a historical succession, the Schaulust, or scopic drive, or even what I will later distinguish as the invocatory drive (la pulsion invocante),
and to establish between them the slightest relation of deduction or genesis.

从口腔驱力到肛门驱力的历程,不一定要经过长大成年的过程,而是要经过驱力以外的某件东西的介入,换言之,经过大它者所要求的介入跟翻转。即使我介绍过其它数目不多的驱力,例如,我刚刚提到的视觉驱力 或我后来又揭露的召唤驱力,因为它们跟这一系列的形成有关,显而易见,你们将会发现,要从它们衍生的过程,找到彼此关系的位置,或在彼此之间,建立演变或起源的丝毫关系,确实都不是一件很容易的事情。


There is no natural metamorphosis of the oral drive into the anal drive. Whatever appearances may emerge to the contrary from the play of the symbol constituted, in other contexts, by the supposed anal object, namely, the faeces, in relation to the phallus in its negative effect, we can in no sense— experience shows us — consider that there is a continuity between the anal phase and the phallic phase, that there is a relation of natural metamorphosis.


We must consider the drive under the heading of the kon- stante Kcraft that sustains it as a stationary tension. Let us take a look at the metaphors that Freud gives us to express these outlets. Take Schub, for example, which he immediately translates by the image that it bears in his mind, that of a spindle of
lava, a material emission from the deflagration of energy that has occurred there in various successive stages, which complete, one after another, that form of return journey. Do we not see in the Freudian metaphor the embodiment of this fundamental structure—something that emerges from a rim, which redoubles its enclosed structure, following a course that returns, and of which nothing else ensures the consistency except the object, as something that must be circumvented.


欲望驱力的一个特征是边缘,封闭,与回转:从边缘出现的某件东西,以封闭的形状重迭增加,遵循回转的途径前进。 客体并不是它的目标,而是被环绕的东西。

This articulation leads us to make of the manifestation of the drive the mode of a headless subject, for everything is articulated in it in terms of tension, and has no relation to the subject other than one of topological community. I have been able to articulate the unconscious for you as being situated in
the gaps that the distribution of the signifying investments sets up in the subject, and which figure in the algorithm in the form of a losange [], which I place at the centre of any relation of the unconscious between reality and the subject. Well! It is in so far as something in the apparatus of the body is structured in the same way, it is because of the topological unity of the gaps in play, that the drive assumes its role in the functioning of the unconscious.


拉康将欲望驱力解释为一种向往冲撞,然后回转。他运用「无头主体」headless subject的意象。这个欲望驱力的无头主体acephalic subject 跟主体没有关系,除了作为拓扑图形的社会一份子。因为驱力仅牵涉到主体的某一面或某一边。将「欲望驱力的主体」当著是实际的一个主体,并不是很恰当。拉康说,在这个层次,我们并不需要去考虑到主体的主体化。我们正在考虑的是一个非主体化的主体。它的特征主要是欠缺,某件东西失落,头不见了。拉康在此提到这个主体为一个欠缺的工具。这个东西形成一个空洞,或是让东西出现作为欠缺。「工具」这个术语意味着主体的这一边,欲望驱力的这一边,最好被构想成为客体。主体在此失落自己,成为仅是一个小客体。



雄伯通俗化拉康 14a

November 30, 2011

雄伯通俗化拉康 14a

Jacques Lacan
雅克 拉冈

The Four Fundamental Concepts of Psychoanalysis (chapter 14a)


在齐泽克的「神经质主体」The Ticklish Subject, 读到引述拉康「精神分析学四个基本概念」对于「部分驱力及其迴圈」的描述。


When I read in the Psychoanalytic Quarterly an article like the one by Mr Edward Glover, entitled Freudian or Neo-Freudian, directed entirely against the constructions of Mr Alexander, I sense a sordid smell of stuffiness, at the sight of a construction like that of Mr Alexander being counter-attacked in the name of obsolete criteria. Good Heavens, I did not hesitate to attack it myself in the most categorical way fourteen years ago, at the 1950 Congress of Psychiatry, but, it is the construction of a man of great talent and when I see at what level this construction is discussed, I can pay myself the complement that through all the misadventures that my discourse encounters, here and certainly elsewhere, one can say that this discourse provides an obstacle to the experience of analysis being served up to you in a completely cretinous way.


At this point, I will resume my discourse on the drive. I was led to approach it after positing that the transference is what manifests in experience the enacting of the reality of the unconscious, in so far as that reality is sexuality. I find that I must pause here and ask myself what this very affirmation involves. If we are sure that sexuality is present in action in the transference, it is in so far as at certain moments it is manifested in the open in the form of love. That is what it is about. Does love represent the summit, the culminating point, the indisputable factor, that makes sexuality present for us in the here and now
of the transference?



Freud’s text, not, certainly, any specific text, but the central import of those writings that deal with the drives and their vicissitudes, rejects such a view in the clearest possible way. It was this text that I began to approach last time, when I was trying to make you feel in what a problematic form, bristling
with questions, the introduction of the drive presents. I hope that many of you will have been able to refer to this text in the meantime, whether you are able to read it in German, which seems to me eminently desirable, or whether, as second best, you will be able to read it, always more or less improperly translated, in the two other languages of culture, English or French—I certainly give the worst marks to the French translation, but I will not waste time pointing out the veritable
falsifications with which it swarms.


Even on a first reading, you would have been able to see that this article falls entirely into two parts—first, the deconstruction of the drive; secondly, the examination of das Lieben, the act of love. We shall now approach this second point.


Freud says quite specifically that love can in no way be regarded as the representative of what he puts in question in the terms die ganze Sexualstrebung, that, is to say, the tendency, the forms, the convergence of the striving of the sexual, in so far as it culminates in an apprehensible whole, that would sum up its essence and function.

佛洛伊德相当明确地说,爱丝毫不能被认为是代表die ganze Sexualstrebung,换言之,他质疑的性的追求的倾向、形式、跟汇聚,因为爱的高潮要从整体来理解,这才能概括爱的本质与功能。

ICommt aber auf damit nicht zulier, that’s not at all how it happens, he cries, when answering this far-reaching suggestion. We analysts have rendered it by all sorts of misleading formulae. The whole point of the article is to show us that with regard to the biological finality of sexuality, namely, reproduction, the drives, as they present themselves in the process of psychical reality, are partial drives.


In their structure, in the tension they establish, the drives are linked to an economic factor. This economic factor depends on the conditions in which the function of the pleasure principle is exercised at a level that I will take up again, at the right time, in the term Real-Ich. Let me say at once that we can conceptualize the Real-Ich as the central nervous system in so far as it functions, not as a system of relations, but as a system intended to ensure a certain homeostasis of the internal tensions.


「在性冲动的结构,在性冲动造成的紧张,驱力与经济的因素有关。」这个economic 当然不是一般的经济学,而是有效率地使用资源,快乐原则的运用。而且还跟「真实的自我」有关。这个「真实自我」的定义是「它的功能不是作为器官彼此关联的系统,而是一个用来保持内部紧张,以获得体内平衡的系统。」如此推论,性的冲动驱力,跟体内的平衡的系统就息息相关啦。

It is because of the reality of the homeostatic system that sexuality comes into play only in the form of partial drives. The drive is precisely that montage by which sexuality participates in the psychical life, in a way that must conform to the gap-like structure that is the structure of the unconscious.



Let us place ourselves at the two extremes of the analytic experience. The primal repressed is a signifier, and we can always regard what is built on this as constituting the symptom qua a scaffolding of signifiers. Repressed and symptom are homogeneous, and reducible to the functions of signifiers. Although their structure is built up step by step like any edifice, it is nevertheless, in the end, inscribable in synchronic terms.



At the other extreme, there is interpretation. Interpretation concerns the factor of a special temporal structure that I have tried to define in the term metonymy. As it draws to its end, interpretation is directed towards desire, with which, in a certain sense, it is identical. Desire, in fact, is interpretation itself. In between, there is sexuality. If sexuality, in the form of the partial drives, had not manifested itself as dominating the whole economy of this interval, our experience would be reduced to a mantic, to which the neutral term psychical energy would then have been appropriate, but in which it would miss what constitutes in it the presence, the Dasein, of sexuality.



The legibility of sex in the interpretation of the unconscious mechanisms is always retroactive. It would merely be of the nature of interpretation if, each moment of the history, we could be certain only that the partial drives intervened effectively in time and place. And not, as one tended to believe at the beginning of the analytic experience, in an erratic form. That infantile sexuality is not a wandering block of ice snatched from the great ice-bank of adult sexuality, intervening as an attraction over an immature subject—this was proved at once in analysis and with what, later, might seem a surprising significance.



In Three Essays on the Theory of Sexuality, Freud was able to posit sexuality as essentially polymorphous aberrant. The spell of a supposed infantile innocence was broken. Because it was
imposed so early, I would almost say too early, this sexuality made us pass too quickly over an examination of what it essentially represents. That is to say that, with regard to the agency of sexuality, all subjects are equal, from the child to the adult —that they deal only with that part of sexuality that passes into the networks of the constitution of the subject, into the networks of the signifier—that sexuality is realized only through the operation of the drives in so far as they are partial drives, partial
with regard to the biological finality of sexuality.


The integration of sexuality into the dialectic of desire passes through the bringing into play of what, in the body, deserves to be designated by the term apparatus—if you understand by this that with which the body, with regard to sexuality, may fit itself up (s’appareiller) as opposed to that with which bodies may be paired off (s’apparier).



If all is confusion in the discussion of the sexual drives it is because one does not see that the drive represents no doubt, but merely represents, and partially at that, the curve of fulfillment of sexuality in the living being. Is it surprising that its final term should be death, when the presence of sex in the living being is bound up with death?



Today I have copied out on the blackboard a fragment of Heracitus, which I found in the monumental work in which Diels has gathered together for us the scattered remains of the pre-Socratic period. To the bow (Bids), he writes, and this emerges for us as one of his lessons in wisdom which, before all
the circuit of scientific elaboration, went straight to the target, to the bow is given the name of life and its work is death.


to the bow is given the name of life and its work is death.
性作为部分驱力,原先是要获得爱的高潮的满足,以回归实在界的无意识,结果却是死亡。对于符号界the symbolic而言,实在界的无意识,意味着「生命」?还是「死亡」?人作为欠缺的能指,该何去何从?

What the drive integrates at the outset in its very existence is a dialectic of the bow, I would even say of archery. In this way we can situate its place in the psychical economy.


如果照这个公式,性的部分驱力是要获得爱的满足,结果所获得却是爱的失落。通过性来获得爱,这是很多的男女的期盼,看来大部分人都必然落空,不是没有道理. 性绝非单纯身体或生理的活动,而且牵涉到心理及心灵的问题。譬如,手淫不仅是欠缺性伴侣时的一种方便,而是对于自我心灵的认同,远胜过对于性的对象的期盼的认同。


精神分析四個基本觀念 505

August 24, 2011

Concept 505





This requirement of a distinct consistency in the details of its telling signifies that the realization of the signifier will never be able to be careful enough in its memorization to succeed in designating the primacy of the significance as such. To develop it by
varying the significations is, therefore, it would seem, to elude it.


This variation makes one forget the aim of the significance by transforming its act into a game, and giving it certain outlets that go some way to satisfying the pleasure principle.


When Freud grasps the repetition involved in the game played by his grandson, in the reiterated fort-da, he may indeed point out that the child makes up for the effect of his mother’s disappearance by making himself the agent of it—but, this phenomenon is of secondary importance.


Wallon stresses that the child does not immediately watch the door through which his mother has disappeared, thus indicating that he expects to see her return through it, but that his vigilance was aroused earlier, at the very point she left him, at the point she moved away from him.


The ever-open gap introduced by the absence indicated remains the cause of a centrifugal tracing in which that which falls is not the other qua face in which the subject is projected, but that cotton-reel linked to itself by the thread that it holds—in which is expressed that which, of itself, detaches itself in this trial, self.mutilation on the basis of which the order of significance will be put in perspective.


For the game of the cotton-reel is the subject’s answer to what the mother’s absence
has created on the frontier of his domain—the edge of his cradle—namely, a ditch, around which one can only play at ‘—jumping.


This reel is not the mother reduced to a little ball by some magical game worthy of the Jivaros—it is a small part of the subject that detaches itself from him while still remaining his, still retained.


This is the place to say, in imitation of Aristotle, that man thinks with his object. It is with his object that the child leaps the frontiers of his domain, transformed into a well, and begins the incantation.


If it is true that the signifier is the first mark of the subject, how can we fail to recognize here —from the very fact that this game is accompanied by one of the first oppositions to appear—that it is in the object to which the opposition is applied in act, the reel, that we must designate the subject. To this object we will later give the name it bears in the Lacanian algebra—the petit a.


The activity as a whole symbolizes repetition, but not at all that of some need that might demand the return of the mother, and which would be expressed quite simply in a cry.


It is the repetition of the mother’s departure as cause of a Spaltung in the subject —overcome by the alternating game, fort-da, which is a here or there, and whose aim, in its alternation, is simply that of being the fort of a da, and the da of a fort.


It is aimed at what, essentially, is not there, qua represented—for it is the game
itself that is the Rep räsentanz of the Vorstellung. What will become of the Vorstellung when, once again, this Reprasentanc of the mother—in her outline made up of the brush-strokes and gouaches of desire—will be lacking?


I, too, have seen with my own eyes, opened by maternal divination, the child, traumatized by the fact that I was going away despite the appeal, precociously adumbrated in his voice, and henceforth more renewed for months at a time—long
after, having picked up this child—I have seen it let his head fall on my shoulder and drop off to sleep, sleep alone being capable of giving him access to the living signifier that I had become since the date of the trauma.


You will see that this sketch that I have given you today of the function of the tuche will be essential for us in rectifying what is the duty of the analyst in the interpretation of the transference.


Let me just stress today that it is not in vain that analysis posits itself as modulating in a more radical way this relation of man to the world that has always been regarded as knowledge.


If knowledge is so often, in theoretical writings, related to something similar to the relation between ontogenesis and phylogenesis—it is as the result of a confusion, and we shall show next time that the very originality of psycho-analysis lies in the fact that it does not centre psychological ontogenesis on supposed stages—which have literally no discoverable foundation in development observable in biological terms.


If development is entirely animated by accident, by the obstacle of the tuch, it is in so far as the tuché brings us back to the same point at which pre-Socratic philosophy sought to motivate the world itself.


It required a clinamen, an inclination, at some point. When Democritus tried to designate it, presenting himself as already the adversary of a pure function of negativity in order to introduce thought into it, he says, It is not the μηδενis essential, and adds—thus showing you that from what one of my pupils called the archaic stage of philosophy, the manipulation of words was used just as in the time of Heidegger—it is not an wØiv, but a öev, which, in Greek, is a coined word.


He did not say ξν, let alone δγ. What, then, did he say? He said, answering the question I asked today, that of idealism, Nothing, perhaps?—not perhaps nothing, but not nothing.



F. D0LT0: I don’t see how, in describing the formation of intelligence up to the age of three or four, one can do without stages. I think that as far as the. defence phantasies and the phantasies of the castration veil are concerned, and also the threats of mutilation, one needs to refer to the stages.


LACAN: The description of the stages, which go to form the libido, must not be referred to some natural process of pseudomaturation, which always remains opaque.


The stages are organized around the fear of castration. The copulatory fact of the introduction of sexuality is traumatizing—this is a snag of some size—and it has an organizing function for development.


The fear of castration is like a thread that perforates all the stages of development. It orientates the relations that are anterior to its actual appearance—weaning, toilet training, etc.


It crystallizes each of these moments in a dialectic that has as its centre a bad encounter. If the stages are consistent, it is in accordance with their possible registration in terms of bad encounters.


The central bad encounter is at the level of the sexual. This does not mean that the stages assume a sexual taint that is diffused on the basis of the fear of castration. On the contrary, it is because this empathy is not produced that one speaks of trauma and primal scene.
12 February 1964



精神分析四个基本观念 504

August 23, 2011

Concept 501





This is certainly what brings us to recognizing in this detached sentence from the dream of the grief-stricken father the counterpart of what will be, once he is awake, his consciousness, and to ask ourselves what is the correlative, in the dream, of the


This question is all the more striking in that, here, we see the dream really as the counterpart of the representation; it is the imagery of the dream and it is an opportunity for us to stress what Freud, when he speaks of the unconscious,
designates as that which essentially determines it, the Vorstellungsreprasentanz.


This means not, as it has been mistranslated, the representative representative (le reprCsentant représentatif), but that which takes the place of the representation (Ic tenantlieu tie la representation).


We shall see its function later. I hope I have helped you to grasp what is nodal in the
encounter, qua encounter forever missed, and which really sustains, in Freud’s text, what seems to him, in his dream, absolutely exemplary.


The place of the real, which stretches from the trauma to the phantasy—in so far as the phantasy is never anything more than the screen that conceals something quite primary, something determinant in the function of repetition—this is what we must now examine.


This, indeed, is what, for us, explains both the ambiguity of the function of awakening and of the function of the real in this awakening. The real may be represented by the accident, the noise, the small element of reality, which is evidence that we are not dreaming.


But, on the other hand, this reality is not so small, for what wakes us is the other
reality hidden behind the lack of that which takes the place of representation—this, says Freud is the Trieb.


But be careful! We have not yet said what this Trieb is —and if, for lack of representation, it is not there, what is this Trieb? We may have to consider it as being only Trieb to come.


How can we fall to see that awakening works in two directions— and that the awakening that re-situates us in a constituted and represented reality carries out two tasks?

The real has to be sought beyond the dream—in what the dream has enveloped, hidden from us, behind the lack of representation of which there is only one representative. This is the real that governs our activities more than any other and it is psychoanalysis that designates it for us.


Thus Freud finds himself providing the solution to the problem which, for the most acute of the questioners of the soul before him—Kierkegaard—had already been centred on repetition.


I would ask you to re-read Kierkegaard’s essay on Repetition, so dazzling in its lightness and ironic play, so truly Mozartian in the way, so reminiscent of Don Giovanni, it abolishes the mirages of love.


With great acuteness, and in a quite unanswerable way, Kierkegaard stresses the feature that, in his love, the young man—whose portrait Kierkegaard paints for us with a mixture of emotion and derision—addresses only to himself through the medium of memory.


Really, is there not something here more profound than La Rochefoucauld’s remark that few would experience love if they had not had its ways and means explained to them? Yes, but who began it?


And does not everything essentially begin by deceiving the first to whom the
enchantment of love was addressed—who has passed off this enchantment as the exaltation of the other, by making himself the prisoner of this exaltation, of this breathlessness which, with the other, has created the most false of demands, that of
narcissistic satisfaction, the ego ideal whether it is or the ego that regards itself as the ideal?


Freud is not dealing with any repetition residing in the natural, no return of need, any more than is Kierkegaard. The return of need is directed towards consumption placed at the service of appetite. Repetition demands the new. It is turned towards the ludic, which finds its dimension in this new —Freud also tells us this in the chapter I referred to last time.


Whatever, in repetition, is varied, modulated, is merely alienation of its meaning. The adult, and even the more advanced child, demands something new in his activities, in his games.


But this ‘sliding-away’ (glissement) conceals what is the true secret of the ludic, namely, the most radical diversity constituted by repetition in itself. It can be seen in the child, in his first movement, at the moment when he is formed as a human being, manifesting himself as an insistence that the story should always be the same, that its recounted realization should be ritualized, that is to say, textually the same.



精神分析四个基本观念 503

August 22, 2011

Concept 503





If the function of the dream is to prolong sleep, if the dream, after all, may come so near to the reality that causes it, can we not say that it might correspond to this reality without emerging from sleep? After all, there is such a thing as somnambulistic

假如夢的功用是要延長睡眠,假如夢, 畢竟,可能如此靠近引起它的現實,我們難道不能說,它可能沒有從睡眠裏出現,就回應現實界?畢竟,有夢遊症這麼一回事。

The question that arises, and which indeed all Freud’s previous indications allow us here to produce, is— What is it that wakes the sleeper? Is it not, in the dream, another reality? —the reality that Freud describes thus—Dass das Kind an seinem Bette steht, that the child is near his bed, ihn am takes him by the arm and whispers to him reproachfully, und ihm vorwurfsvoll Vater, siehst du denn nicht, Father, can’t you see, dass ich verbrenne, that I am burning?


Is there not more reality in this message than in the noise by which the father also identifies the strange reality of what is happening in the room next door. Is not the missed reality that caused the death of the child expressed in these words?


Freud himself does not tell us that we must recognize in this sentence what perpetuates for the father those words forever separated from the dead child that were said to him, perhaps, Freud supposes, because of the fever—but who knows, perhaps
these words perpetuate the remorse felt by the father that the man he has put at his son’s bedside to watch over him may not be up to his task: die Besorgnis dass dergreise Wdchter seiner Aufgabe nichtgewachsen sein he may not be up to his job, in fact, he has gone to sleep.


Does not this sentence, said in relation to fever, you what, in one of my recent lectures, I called the cause of fever? And is not the action, apparently so urgent, of preventing
what is happening in the next room also perhaps felt as being in any case too late now, in relation to what is at issue, in the psychical reality manifested in the words spoken?


Is not the dream essentially, one might say, an act of homage to the missed reality—the reality that can no longer produce itself except by repeating itself endlessly, in some never attained awakening? What encounter can there be henceforth with that forever inert being—even now being devoured by the flames—if not the encounter that occurs precisely at the moment when, by accident, as if by chance, the flames come to meet him?


Where is the reality in this accident, if not that it repeats something actually more fatal by means of reality, a reality in which the person who was supposed to be watching
over the body still remains asleep, even when the father reemerges after having woken up?


Thus the encounter, forever missed, has occurred between dream and awakening, between the person who is still asleep and whose dream we will not know and the person who has dreamt merely in order not to wake up.


If Freud, amazed, sees in this the confirmation of his theory of desire, it is certainly a sign that the dream is not a phantasy fulfilling a wish.


For it is not that, in the dream, he persuades himself that the son is still alive. But the terrible vision of the dead son taking the father by the arm designates a beyond that makes itself heard in the dream.


Desire manifests itself in the dream by the loss expressed in an image at the most cruel point of the object.


It is only in the dream that this truly unique encounter can occur. Only a rite, an endlessly repeated act, can commemorate this not very memorable encounter—for no one can say what the death of a child is, except the father qua father, that is to say, no conscious being.


For the true formula of atheism is not God is dead—even by basing the origin of the function of the father upon his murder, Freud protects the father—the true formula of atheism is God is unconscious.


The awakening shows us the waking state of the subject’s consciousness in the representation of what has happened —the unfortunate accident in reality, against which one can do no more than take steps! But what, then, was this accident?


When everybody is asleep, including the person who wished to take a little rest, the person who was unable to maintain his vigil and the person of whom some well intentioned individual, standing at his bedside, must have said, He looks just as if he is asleep, when we know only one thing about him, and that is that, in this entirely sleeping world, only the voice is heard, Father, can’t you see I’m burning?


This sentence is itself a firebrand— of itself it brings fire where it falls—and one cannot see what is burning, for the flames blind us to the fact that the fire bears on the Unterlegt, on the Unt.ertragen, on the real.



精神分析四個基本觀念 502

August 22, 2011

Concept 502





In effect, the trauma is conceived as having necessarily been marked by the subjectifying homeostasis that orientates the whole functioning defined by the pleasure principle.


Our experience then presents us with a problem, which derives from the fact that, at the very heart of the primary processes, we see preserved the insistence of the trauma in making us aware of its existence.


The trauma reappears, in effect, frequently unveiled. How can the dream, the bearer of the subject’s desire, produce that which makes the trauma emerge repeatedly—if
not its very face, at least the screen that shows us that it is still there behind?


Let us conclude that the reality system, however far it is developed, leaves an essential part of what belongs to the real a prisoner in the toils of the pleasure principle.


It is this that we have to investigate, this reality, one might say, whose presence is supposed to be required by us, if the motive force of development, as it is represented for us by someone like Melanie Klein, for example, is not reducible to a formula like the one I used earlier, namely, is a dream.


To this requirement correspond those radical points in the real that I call encounters, and which enable us to conceive reality as unterlegt, untertragen, which, with the superb ambiguity of the French language, appear to be translated by the same word —souffrance. Reality is in abeyance there, awaiting attention. And Zwang, constraint, which Freud defines by Wiederholung, governs the very diversions of the primary process.


The primary process—which is simply what I have tried to define for you in my last few lectures in the form of the unconscious— must, once again, be apprehended in its experience of rupture, between perception and consciousness, in that nontemporal
locus, I said, which forces us to posit what Freud calls, in homage to Fechner, die Idee einer anderer Lokalitdt, the idea of another locality, another space, another scene, the
between perception and consciousness.


We can, at any moment, apprehend this primary process. The other day, I was awoken from a short nap by knocking at my door just before I actually awoke. With this impatient knocking I had already formed a dream, a dream that manifested to me something other than this knocking.


And when I awake, it is in so far as I reconstitute my entire representation
around this knocking—this perception—that I am aware of it. I know that I am there, at what time I went to sleep, and why I went to sleep. When the knocking occurs, not in my perception, but in my consciousness, it is because my consciousness
reconstitutes itself around this I know that I am waking up, that I am knocked up.

But here I must question myself as to what I am at that moment—at the moment, so immediately before and so separate, which is that in which I began to dream under the effect of the knocking which is, to all appearances, what woke me.


Observe what I am directing you towards—towards the symmetry of that structure that makes me, after the awakening knock, able to sustain myself, apparently only in a relation with my representation, which, apparently, makes of me only consciousness.


A sort of involuted reflection—in my consciousness, it is only my representation that I recover possession of.


Is that all? Freud has told us often enough that he would have to go back to the function of consciousness, but he never did. Perhaps we shall see better what is at issue, by apprehending what is there that motivates the emergence of the represented
reality, namely the phenomenon, distance, the gap itself that constitutes awakening.


To make things quite clear, let us return to the dream —which is also made up entirely of noise—that I left you time to look up in The Interpretation of Dreams. You will remember the unfortunate father who went to rest in the room next to the
one in which his dead child lay—leaving the child in the care, we are told, of another old man—and who is awoken by something.


By what? It is not only the reality, the shock, the knocking, a noise made to recall him to the real, but this expresses, in his dream, the quasi-identity of what is happening,
the very reality of an overturned candle setting light to the bed in which his child lies.


Such an example hardly seems to confirm Freud’s thesis in the Traumdeutung—that the dream is the realization of a desire.


What we see emerging here, almost for the first time, in the Traumdeutung, is a function of the dream of an apparently secondary kind—in this case, the dream satisfies only the need to prolong sleep. What, then, does Freud mean by placing,
at this point, this particular dream, stressing that it is in itself full confirmation of his thesis regarding dreams?



精神分析四個基本觀念 501

August 22, 2011

Concept 501





Psycho-analysis is not an idealism 精神分析並不是唯心論
The real as trauma 作為創傷的真實界
Theory of the dream and of waking 夢與清醒的理論
Consciousness and representation. 意識與再現
God is unconscious 上帝即無意識
The objet petit a in the fort-da 去回遊戲的小客體

Today I shall continue the examination of the concept of repetition, as it is presented by Freud and the experience of psycho-analysis.


I wish to stress here that, at first sight, psycho-analysis seems to lead in the direction of idealism.


God knows that it has been reproached enough for this—it reduces the experience, some say, that urges us to find in the hard supports of conflict, struggle, even of the exploitation of man by man, the reasons for our deficiencies—it leads to an ontology of the tendencies, which it regards as primitive, internal, already given by the condition of the subject.


We have only to consider the course of this experience from its first steps to see, on the contrary, that it in no way allows us to accept some such aphorism as life is a dream. No praxis is more orientated towards that which, at the heart of experience,
is the kernel of the real than psycho-analysis.


Where do we meet this real? For what we have in the discovery of psycho-analysis is an encounter, an essential encounter—an appointment to which we are always called with a real that eludes us. That is why I have put on the blackboard a few words that are for us, today, a reference-point of what we wish to propose.


First, the tuché, which we have borrowed, as I told you last time, from Aristotle, who uses it in his search for cause. We have translated it as the encounter with the real. The real is beyond the automaton, the return, the coming-back, the insistence of the signs, by which we see ourselves governed by the pleasure principle.


The real is that which always lies behind the automaton, and it is quite obvious, throughout Freud’s research, that it is this that is the object of his concern.


If you wish to understand what is Freud’s preoccupation as the function of phantasy is revealed to him, remember the development, which is so central for us, of the Wolf Man. He applies himself; in a way that can almost be described as anguish,
to the question—what is the first encounter, the real, that lies behind the phantasy?


We feel that throughout this analysis, this real brings with it the subject, almost by force, so directing the research that, after all, we can today ask ourselves whether this fever, this presence, this desire of Freud is not that which, in his patient, might have conditioned the belated accident of his psychosis.


So there is no question of confusing with repetition either the return of the signs, or reproduction, or the modulation by the act of a sort of acted out remembering. Repetition is something which, of its true nature, is always veiled in analysis, because of the identification of with the transference in the conceptualization of an analysis. Now, this really is the point at which a distinction should be made.


The relation to the real that is to be found in the transference was expressed by Freud when he declared that nothing can be apprehended in effigie, in absentia—and yet is not the transference given to us as effigy and as relation to absence? We can succeed
in unravelling this ambiguity of the reality involved in the transference only on the basis of the function of the real in repetition.


What is repeated, in fact, is always something that occurs —the expression tells us quite a lot about its relation to the tuché—as if by chance. This is something that we analysts never allow ourselves to be taken in by, on principle. At least, we always point out that we must not be taken in when the subject tells us that something happened to him that day that prevented him from realizing his wish to come to the session.


Things must not be taken at the level at which the subject puts them—in as much as what we are dealing with is precisely this obstacle, this hitch, that we find at every moment. It is this mode of apprehension above all that governs the new deciphering that we have given of the subject’s relations to that which makes his condition.


The function of the tuché, of the real as encounter—the encounter in so far as it may be missed, in so far as it is essentially the missed encounter—first presented itself in the history of psycho-analysis in a form that was in itself already enough to arouse our attention, that of the trauma.


Is it not remarkable that, at the origin of the analytic experience, the real should have presented itself in the form of that which is unassimilable in it—in the form of the trauma, determining all that follows, and imposing on it an apparently accidental origin?


We are now at the heart of what may enable us to understand the radical character of the conflictual notion introduced by the opposition of the pleasure principle and the reality principle—which is why we cannot conceive the reality principle as having, by virtue of its ascendancy, the last word.



精神分析四個基本觀念 403

August 21, 2011

Concept 403



This brings us to the heart of the problem that I am raising. Is psycho-analysis, here and now, a science? What distinguishes modern science from science in its infancy, which is discussed in the Theaetetus, is that, when science arises, a master is always
present. Freud is certainly a master.


But if everything that is written as analytic literature is not mere buffoonery, it always
functions as such—which poses the question as to whether this pedicle might, one day, be reduced.


Opposite his certainty, there is the subject, who, as I said just now, has been waiting there since Descartes. I dare to state as a truth that the Freudian field was possible only a certain time after the emergence of the Cartesian subject, in so far as
modern science began only after Descartes made his inaugural step.


It is on this step that depends the fact that one can call upon the subject to re-enter himself in the unconscious—for, after all, it is important to know who one is calling. It is not the soul, either mortal or immortal, which has been with us for so long,
nor some shade, some double, some phantom, nor even some supposed psycho-spherical shell, the locus of the defences and other such simplified notions. It is the subject who is called— there is only he, therefore, who can be chosen.


There may be, as in the parable, many called and few chosen, but there will
certainly not be any others except those who are called.


In order to understand the Freudian concepts, one must set out on the basis that it is the subject who is called—the subject of Cartesian origin. This basis gives its true function to what, in analysis, is called recollection or remembering.


Recollection is not Platonic reminiscence —it is not the return of a form, an imprint, a eidos of beauty and good, a supreme truth, coming to us from the beyond.


It is something that comes to us from the structural necessities, something humble, born at the level of the lowest encounters and of all the talking crowd that precedes us, at the level of the structure of the signifier, of the languages spoken in a stuttering, stumbling way, but which cannot elude constraints whose echoes, model, style can be found, curiously enough, in contemporary mathematics.


As you saw with the notion of cross-checking, the function of return, Wiederkehr, is essential. It is not only Wiederkelir in the sense of that which has been repressed—the very constitution of the field of the unconscious is based on the Wiederkehr. It is
there that Freud bases his certainty.


But it is quite obvious that it is not from there that it comes to him. It comes to him from the fact that he recognizes the law of his own desire. He would not have been able to advance with this bet of certainty if he had not been guided in it, as his writings show, by his self-analysis.


And what is his self-analysis, if not the brilliant mapping of the law of desire suspended in the Name-of-the-father. Freud advances, sustained by a certain relation to his desire, and by his own achievement, namely, the constitution of psychoanalysis.


I shall not elaborate much more, though I always hesitate to leave this terrain. If I have insisted on it, it is to show you that the notion of hallucination, in Freud, as a process of regressive investment on perception necessarily implies that the subject
must be completely subverted in it—which he is, in effect, only in extremely fleeting moments.


No doubt this leaves entirely open the question of hallucination proper, in which the subject does not believe, and in which he does not recognize himself as implicated. No doubt this is merely a mythical pin-pointing—for it is not certain that one
can speak of the delusion of hallucinatory psychosis of a confusional origin, as Freud does, rather too rapidly, seeing in it the manifestation of the perceptual regression of arrested desire.


But the fact that there is a mode in which Freud can conceive as possible the subversion of the subject shows clearly enough to what extent he identifies the subject with that which is originally subverted by the system of the signifier.


So let us leave this time of the unconscious and move towards the question of what repetition is. It will need more than one of our sessions.