Thursday, September 18, 2008

Barthes

Barthes says that using the word “tree” in any way except to directly describe a specific tree robs all trees of their history, transforming them from substantial and historied to general, timeless images. I think a more accurate term would be to say it robs trees (or a particular tree, which, like the lion in his grammar-book example, could react with outrage at becoming an empty signifier) with their individuality, for individuality (or specificity) is created by a uniquely experienced history. Individuals can only be historied, and it is the sum of their historical experiences that make them specific individuals. History cannot help but create individuals. This individuality, says Barthes, can only be thoroughly captured by political speech, which is basically synonymous with literal speech. Using “tree” as a building block to express more complex thoughts causes the impoverishment of the first-order sign, robbing it of its individuality by glossing over its specific history. Anything besides literal speech contains generalizations. Therefore, abstract speech cannot be honest. I feel like this is pretty ridiculous. It’s interesting to see how the weightiness of literal meaning can be drained from a word once it is used to express something more abstract or complicated, but I don’t think that simply using a word is equivalent to engaging in myth-telling. Barthes champions a manner of languaging in which words are painstakingly confined to primitive one-to-one definitions of specific moments in history—tree that I felled, axe that I held. What Barthes categorizes as mythification of the lion in his grammar-book example is the definition of using language.

Obviously, there are different ways to use language, and ways to create myths that are overblown. But I think Barthes makes a mistake when he groups all media into a pile of possible sign-makers, spoken language and photography included in the same breath. It would be a mistake to place the act of using language to express abstract thoughts along the same continuum that holds the act of political propaganda. I think that myths expressed by photographs are different than myths expressed by words themselves.

Also, I’m confused about the passage about the Basque house (124-5). He seems to be describing two ways in which it is possible to view a house, through oneself and for oneself (which he connects with history-less-ness) or at a distance (through the lens of history). I don’t understand when each approach would occur, and what they have to do with mythification.

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