What I like about Riley's description(s) is it's attention to the different valences of the 'inner voice'. The inner voice not as one 'kind' of speech, but a variety: sometimes a 'polyphonic brigade', sometimes a explicit dialogue, sometimes fragments and half-finished lines, sometimes phrases 'stuck in the head', sometimes just a intensity of 'wanting-to-say' and so on. Taken together, they paint a picture of a voice that is always in some manner impersonal, never fully under our control, a voice with a life of it's own, even while it belongs to us. I think this accords quite nicely with my experience(s), which are not univocal, don't follow some pretdetermined image of what 'inner speech' ought to be.

I just feel that you've some idea of what it 'ought' to be, and tend to judge everything by that light. The kind of authenticity and REALLY ME sort of thing you ascribe to the inner voice just seem odd to me. Folk, as you say, but precisely in a pejorative way.

But very often I do not actually address myself at all, and there is simply talking inside me. There is a voice. Questioned as to its origin, I would be in no doubt that it’s my own voice, but its habitual presence in me resembles a rapid low-grade commentary without authorship, rather than any Socratic exchange between several loquacious and attentive inner selves.

This seems pretty spot on to me. The voice isn't exhaustive of my experience, I would add, but it's definitely usually there.

The puppet/ventriloquist thing doesn't strike me as suggesting mental illness, but rather as a competent, if familiar, move in a contemporary poetic language game where one expresses one's poeticity through a concatenation of imagery involving the body, words, and passivity. It's about demonstrating one's receptivity to the muses, but in a more earthy, edgy register (the nod to Beckett is characteristic.) I don't hate it, actually used to like it a lot, but I've had a subscription to Harper's for a few years now, and I'm more than sated with the stuff.

Sure, but none of this goes anywhere toward justifying the kinds of sweeping claims you're praising MP or Derrida for, and which are still a bad description of even the most basic experiences. Sometimes I dialogue with myself. Sometimes words seem to flit by. It's not about thinking the inner voice ought to be some way, but rather that philosophers have a vested interest in taking some aspect of it that they think will be congenial to their project and blowing it up ludicrously. So for me it is an interesting psychological and sociological question how it is people come to write such things – how people like Hume, or Derrida, come to believe things that are not only so false, but so obviously false. This has to do with the effect philosophical stakes can have on people.

And I think the folk are wiser on this subject. Continental philosophers have, in my experience, never taught me anything important about personal identity, with the exception of Husserl, who in truth belongs to an earlier era (he is like the legendary band that inspires the colorless clones). And I do not brush off their texts, but struggle with them ingenuously, nor do I think any special philosophical incompetence keeps me from understanding them. So there must be some explanation as to why either their texts are so devoid of insight, or that insight is especially closed to me for some reason. I sometimes just cannot believe MP is serious. He's ridiculous. He writes like a clown.

Eh, I feel differently, but then, there's no argument here.

Yeah, the invocation of the Muses is interesting. I do believe in the Muses, and I'm even for going back to ingenuously thanking them before a written work with a disclaimer that nothing I think is good enough to publish is truly my own, but was given to me freely by quasi-divine powers. But inspiration is close to madness, and it's more invigorating and interesting than the sort of tedious schizophrenic deferral and linguistic games that are at play in these sorts of descriptions SX is citing. I just feel like, I don't know, maybe continental philosophers really do live like this, maybe their whole life is a dumb frenetic language game, which strikes me as sad and irritating, but different strokes.

Certainly something sad about Derrida has emerged over the course of reading V&P. Not in a condescending way, but I really am starting to empathize with him the more times I read the chapters. He seems like a sad person.

But inspiration is close to madness, and it's more invigorating and interesting than the sort of tedious schizophrenic deferral and linguistic games that are at play in these sorts of descriptions SX is citing

Hey, to be fair, you yourself likened the passage to madness. (couldn't help myself there, I do see where you're coming form)

There is a lot in continental philosophy I sincerely cherish, but there's plenty I don't, and there's a sense in which the tedious, repetitive invocations of this or that radical idea mirror the tedious, repetitive anti-authority gestures of those who came of age in the US in the 60s. One way to view continental philosophy is a means of preserving the intricate ornamentative forms of catholicism or the inexhaustiblity of the text in rabinnic judaism against the pragmatism of a secular age. There is definitely a kind of familiar fondness for the tradition being critiqued or deconstructed- and, in my limited experience anyway, you don't usually see that in analytic philosophy (Wittgenstein being maybe the canonical example here)

I really love the formal semantic tradition in analytic philosophy, actually (which Witti is a part of), to the extent that I don't mind reading endless boring exegesis about it and learning little technical quirks and solving puzzles. I do feel a deep fondness for it, and for the beauty of the work of someone like Richard Montague (this beauty, I think, comes from the fact that semantics is one of those places where mathematics and empirical science blur, making it both real and formal). But there I feel like it's an engineering thing, doing cool things with mathematical models. I'm not sure what continental philosophy is for, except, as you say, being a bulwark of self-perpetuating Jesuitism (Freud and Marx will simply not stop being cited, ever, I guess). Maybe reading, and reading, and reading engenders its own kind of fun, because you can make notes in the margin and read some more. But then, I can't help but think that the fixation on words is a result of not knowing anything else. And the works that I personally have felt drawn to read again have been actually religious, not just substitute-religious, or old.

(also, there's a shiny well-regarded and romantic kind of madness, and the mundane sort of mental illness that makes you unable to eat right and hear intrusive voices, nothing romantic about the latter).

Oh, I wasn't saying there's nothing of value in analytic philosophy, just that it seems to have a very different kind of relationship with its forebears. (I'm not well-versed enough in the tradition to speak about its intricacies, but it sounds similar to the enjoyment I got out of solving programming puzzles during my brief computer science stint. I really enjoyed that and am strongly considering gearing up to give it one last go)

I think continental philosophers have more insightful things to say about culture, art (& spirituality, tho they code it) than do analytic philosophers. There were so many moments for me, in college, reading Deleuze and just being like Yes! - things I'd felt, but didn't know how to express, and hadn't seen anyone express elsewhere. He made me feel much less alone. Recently, I've been having that same experience with Peter Sloterdijk. Derrida has always been one of my least favorite continentals precisely because I don't get any of that from him. I've never had one of those 'aha!' moments with him. Reading him has been fun, if infuriating, but it hasn't really deepened my interest in his work, tbh (tho it has deepened my interest in Husserl.)

(Also fwiw, Deleuze had an alcohol problem, which he overcame, and his writing on alcoholism is the most authentically insightful and compassionate (tho not sentimental) stuff I've ever read on the topic.)

I think I agree, all I am saying is that sometimes the way you are wording it makes it seem as if there's first an imagination of a word, and then a representation of that imagination. What I'm saying is that's one level removed, and the text treats the imagination as the representation to begin with (of the actual use of the speech in communication). — The Great Whatever

Yes, there are two levels of distinction referred to. In ch3 it was the distinction between the thing imagined, (the imagined word in this case), and the act of imagining. In ch4 it is the distinction between the act of imagining, and the representation of this, as a type of communication, speaking to oneself.

The claim of Derrida appears to be that in language we cannot, in common practise, distinguish between the real, and the representation. But this is clearly false, in common language use we have no problem distinguishing between the representation, which is the word, and the real thing, which is what the word refers to. So we have no problem distinguishing between the act of imagining, and the words which represent this, "speaking to oneself", such that the "speaking" in "speaking to oneself" is understood as more of a metaphor.

It is only when we go to the next level. where the words appear as imaginary objects, and there is an act which moves these imaginary objects, the act of imagination, that the distinction between real and representation becomes difficult. Both of these are already within the category of "ideal", because the objects, are understood as imaginary, i.e., only within the mind, as ideals are. Therefore the act itself should be considered ideal. So it appears like we have nothing real here to cling to. That could be the problem brought up in ch 3, but now in ch 4, the act of imagination is given reality, as something spoken about, referred to as "speaking to oneself".

The question which comes to my mind is, is it necessary for this ideal act, and its ideal objects, the act of imagination and its imaginary objects, to be represented, identified and spoken about, in order that it be something real? It appears like it was only by identifying this act of imagination as something real, representing it as "speaking to oneself", that this realm of the ideal, the act of imagination, and the imaginary objects, can be considered as something real. Therefore it appears like without representation, there cannot be anything real.

But this is not to say, as Derrida does, that the two are indistinguishable. In fact, contrary to Derrida's claim that language "is" the impossibility of distinguishing between the real and the representation, language actually "is" this distinction. When something is identified and spoken about, it is considered to be real, by virtue of it being represented. We cannot consider anything to be real without representing it somehow. Without representing it, it is not even considered. But inherent within this act of identification is a recognition of the distinction between the real thing, and the representation, the word.

Remember that Homer explained that the Muses always tell the truth, because even their lies are true.

I think continental philosophers have more insightful things to say about culture, art (& spirituality, tho they code it) than do analytic philosophers. There were so many moments for me, in college, reading Deleuze and just being like Yes! - things I'd felt, but didn't know how to express, and hadn't seen anyone express elsewhere. He made me feel much less alone. Recently, I've been having that same experience with Peter Sloterdijk. Derrida has always been one of my least favorite continentals precisely because I don't get any of that from him. I've never had one of those 'aha!' moments with him. Reading him has been fun, if infuriating, but it hasn't really deepened my interest in his work, tbh (tho it has deepened my interest in Husserl.) — csalisbury

Interesting. I've always enjoyed experiencing art or participating in spirituality, but have never really enjoyed commentary on them that much. Some of the things Henry has said about seeing the invisible in visual art or that Schop. has said about the sublime resonated with me, but only because they said things I already knew from appreciating art to begin with.

Derrida is hard for me because I sort of 'see' what the rhetorical strategy is supposed to be, but it never really gets into my stomach.

I hear you - I'd like to go into what I get out of the commentary (and how it often goes beyond commentary) but it'd take us a bit too far afield, maybe I'll get a thread going sometime soon. (quickly tho, I'll say that any commentary is useless if you don't have that resonance from personal aesthetic experience. But if you find yourself on that same wavelength, you're open to new nuances of understanding which build from there.)

OK, halfway mark, Chapter 5 tomorrow, on everyone's favorite, time consciousness. Moliere, let us know if you are still willing to summarize.

One of the most questionable presumptions of phenomenologists (and not just phenomenologists!) is that it must be the same for everyone.

This is not an assumption of phenomenology.

So when Denise Riley gives her account of 'thinking with herself' does she believe its character applies to everyone else, or even anyone else? (She does transition from "me" to "us").

Husserl, Heidegger and Merleau-Ponty claim no universality for their analyses of consciousness, lived experience and perception?

Riley isn't a phenomenologist (or at least she doesn't claim to be), she's just someone who's writing I find helps bring out many aspects of the 'inner voice'.

Universality and objectivity require intersubjectivity, and the ability to constitute others and relay the results of observation. This requires a commonality to the extent this can be transmitted, but makes no assumption of universal faculties and holds out the eventual possibility even for communion with animals. Husserl's mature position was that each person must treat themselves as the standard and act as if every other were deficient with respect to them, with the differences to be washed out where needed and preserved where needed.

But this does not seem to be something we need to, or even ever could, explain. We already know we can communicate with others and even commune with animals. We don't need to prove it; or to try to find the inter-subjective (universal) factors that make such communication and communion possible.

I do kind of agree that each person must "treat themselves as the standard", but only insofar as that means trusting, above all else, one's own intuitions. Perhaps in dialogue with others, one may become convinced that their intuitions were not as good as the others; but only if this realization were somehow genuine could there be any real advance in understanding. And it is so hard to determine exactly what it is that sometimes convinces people to abandon their own opinions for those of another.

I would say that inter-subjectivity equally requires universality and objectivity as the other way around, and so I think that there must be some presumption of universality if there is to be any inter-subjectivity; but the problem comes with knowing exactly what things about us are universal or even in common, and sometimes whether we are even talking about the same things or in the same way.

Kant thought that lying was a big deal for a reason, because it's an assault on all of our intuitions. Just be honest.

I agree that,for me, she does capture something of the character of the internal dialogue. And yet others might not find it so; what then?

Then they can pose their claims, their account of those claims, and then one can debate over those accounts and how they coordinate with various presuppositions and so on, like people have done from time immemorial. I mean sorry but this is a really dumb line of questioning.

But this is precisely what people have not done from time immemorial.There have been shared understandings of universal truth to ground discourse right up to the enlightenment. Now all universalist assumptions are 'officially' discredited; so what makes you think the discourse of postmodernity is actually going anywhere, rather than simply wallowing in affectation, self-congratulation and its own curious forms of dogma? If nothing universal or even true (apart from empirical facts) can be determined about humans, then what's the point of any discursive enquiry?

What discourse of postmodernity? Who said it? Whose theory of truth? Which take on universality? Despite, or better, in spite of your total ignorance on these matters, there isn't some manifesto which thinkers you consider postmodern agree with and espouse in the same voice. If you've got a text or a thinker in mind, or even an argument which you'd like to engage with, please present it. I have no interest in your caricatures and bad faith proselytizing. If anything, your posts themselves are a kind of performative indictment as to the banality and violence of thrusting universality upon disparity. And in any case, please take it outside this thread, where you can tout your agenda without disrupting a reading group.

You know nothing at all about what I've read, what I know or what I understand. It's a fact that there is general consensus among the postmoderns when it comes to the issues of truth and universality; if it wasn't for that they could not rightly be referred to as 'postmoderns'. So, there is, broadly speaking, a general discourse of postmodernity with its own defining characteristics.

Anyway I can't see any point in engaging with you any further; as usual when someone disagrees with you you become all defensive, uppity and condescendingly abusive. I've seen it way too many times, so, I won't bother to "take it" anywhere else; I'll leave you in peace instead. :-}

there is general consensus among the postmoderns when it comes to the issues of truth and universality; if it wasn't for that they could not rightly be referred to as 'postmoderns'. — John

Yes - which is why "they" are wrongly referred to as postmoderns, except by the ignorant and the unstudied.

So, you claim that there is no commonality between the attitudes of say Foucault, Deleuze and Derrida when it comes to truth, dialectic, universality and transcendence?

I tell you what; I'll start a thread about this very question.

There probably are commonalities, no less than they are differences. But this is of course to say literally nothing at all. That's what happens when you pose bullshit psychology questions in place of analysis.

And in any case, why just those three? Why not Judith Butler, Kelly Oliver, Dorothea Olkowski, Vicki Kirby, Ernesto Laclau, Elizabeth Grosz? These are authors who, coming out of a very similar tradition, have written much on the above questions, with many places of agreement and disagreement between them. Why not Kaja Silverman, or Julia Kristeva, or Francois Lyotard, or John Sallis, or Isabelle Stengers, Bruno Latour, Rosi Braidotti, Paul Ricoeur, or Sara Ahmed? Or are all these names interchangeable to you? Is the complete and utter dumbness of your question concerning 'attitudes' coming through right now?

Then other people don't find reflective of their experiences of the internal dialogue. I certainly don't at times. Sometimes my internal voice is just regurgitating dry dogma or an expected rule. We have nothing more to say. Taking the universal assumption that everyone must experience such an inner voice cannot be made. It also says nothing about people. Such an assumption is just what someone imagines another person to be like, not a description of who they are.

If nothing universal or even true (apart from empirical facts) can be determined about humans, then what's the point of any discursive enquiry? — John

To understand what is not universal: each state of the world, in its distinction, regardless of it similarity.

Consider various "nature" arguments which make a generalisation about human ability of behaviour. Is it true someone with an AMAB (assigned male at birth) body is stronger than someone with a AFAB (assigned female at birth) body? The old universal assumptions say: "Yes." We are to know, from merely the presence of a categorised body (rather than, you know, someone's actual strength), that someone will be stronger than another. It's a rule which applies regardless of time, environment or the individual.

The post-modern approach disbands this inaccurate (and contrary to the empirical) form of argument. It turns the argument into a question of individual expression, rather than determining constraint. We understand the generalisation about strength to be false. There is no such universality. AMAB bodies are frequently stronger, but they are so on the basis of that individual's strength, not because of a body with a particular sex categorisation.

Instead of relying on ad hoc assertions of necessity, nature, reason and desires, we have to actually to the work to describe people honestly.

We even get around the "distinction is universal" objection, for it is not "universal." We are all part of a shared world. We share an environment. A child shares their mothers body. An artist shares ideas with an audience. And so and so on. We might always be distinct, but we are also always together too. Distinction is not universal.

Since this discussion is probably out of context in this thread it might be better to re-post this in the thread I have just started.