Eshun does not conceive the future as radically open. Nowadays, it has become a space that is under a constant threat of being colonized:

“In the colonial era of the early to middle twentieth century, avantgardists from Walter Benjamin to Frantz Fanon revolted in the name of the future against a power structure that relied on control and representation of the historical archive. Today, the situation is reversed. The powerful employ futurists and draw power from the futures they endorse, thereby condemning the disempowered to live in the past. The present moment is stretching, slipping for some into yesterday, reaching for others into tomorrow.” (Eshun 289)

He distinguishes three groups of cultural objects through which this colonization takes place: mathematical formalizations, science fiction, and hybrid forms between them. As long as these projections are uncritically received, these projected images of the future appear to be the causal result of the present. Eshun therefore proposes three chronopolitical practices that try to counter the colonization of the future: a theoretical practice that critically reads these produced futures, an artistic practice that constructs alternative images of the future, so-called counterfutures, and finally an archeological practice that analyzes past counterfutures.

Strangely enough, Eshun observes, that historically there has been a taboo on creative reflections on the future exactly by the proponents of countermemory.

Because the practice of countermemory defined itself as an ethical commitment to history, the dead, and the forgotten, the manufacture of conceptual tools that could analyze and assemble counterfutures was understood as an unethical dereliction of duty. Futurological analysis was looked upon with suspicion, wariness, and hostility. (Eshun 288)

Through its reluctance to engage the future, the practice of countermemory unwittingly fortifies the existing power relations

The following analogy might help to clarify Eshun’s argument. The function of the future in history, I would argue, is identical to that of a vanishing point in painting. While a vanishing point makes it possible to combine different elements in a single scene, this heterogeneity does not constitute multiple perspectives. On the contrary, it captures these diverse elements in a single image and includes them in a single point of view. The pluralizing of elements depends on a fixation of the perspective. Understood like this, a vanishing point is not an element in the scene – not even a special one – but an operation. One that simultaneously has a totalizing and a pluralizing effect.

The future conceived as a single point functions in exactly the same way. It actually enables the inclusion of multiple stories in a single history. Without a pluralized account of the future, countermemories do not offer alternative views on history; they only contribute to an all-encompassing vision.

Paradoxically, though, opening up the future can only occur by critically investigation objects from the past. Eshun thereby creates a new category of cultural objects. That of past images of the future: counterfutures. It would be a mistake to confuse this new category with that of utopia (or dystopia for that matter).

Science fiction

What actually happens, is that Eshun simply reverses the temporality. Whereas in the practices of countermemory, the past is pluralized by fixating either the present or the future, he proposes to do exactly the opposite. The future is pluralized through the fixation of an (not the) image of the past.

“The field of Afrofuturism does not seek to deny the tradition of countermemory. Rather, it aims to extend that tradition by reorienting the intercultural vectors of Black Atlantic temporality towards the proleptic as much as the retrospective.” (Eshun 289)

In order for this practice to function, however, it is necessary to constantly shift between operations that invoke countermemories and those that produce counterfutures. Otherwise, it remains impossible to pluralize perspectives on history. Eshun implicitly argues for a plurality of operations. As long as a single operation dominates practices – in this case emancipatory ones – cannot avoid totalization, in spite of its good intentions. Totalitarianism resides on the level of operations rather than content.

This text is a (very, very early) draft. Please do not quote from it!

The fact that this extremely short abbreviation of Aristotle’s biography does not contain any real information clearly expresses Heidegger’s disregard of the genre. All personal details are intentionally left out in his version. Heidegger does not mention the fact that Aristotle was born in 384 BC in Stagira as the son of a doctor, nor does he pay any attention to the fact that the ‘Stagirite’ was the tutor of Alexander the Great before the latter became the king of Macedonia and a merciless imperialist. Even the philosopher’s years as a student at Plato’s Academy are of no importance to his distant German successor. In fact, as long as we assume that thinking is not the prerogative of academic philosophers, Heidegger’s sentence could be the biography of any other person that ever lived.

Heidegger’s portrayal of Aristotle’s biography, however, is more than mere mockery. The implicit assumption that underlies this parody, is that philosophy should only be concerned with a person’s thoughts and not with his actions. In the – heavily edited – transcription of the above mentioned lecture, Heidegger transforms his refusal to elaborate on Aristotle’s life into a maxim:

“Regarding the personality of a philosopher, the following is of interest: He was born than and than, he worked and died. The ‘Gestalt’ of the philosopher, or something similar, will not be given here.”(Heidegger 2002:5)

In this view, the person has nothing to do with the thinker; or, a bit less radical, there is no need to pay attention to the life of the former because all the philosophically relevant elements are already present in the writings of the latter.

Heidegger’s categorical rejection of biography entails a normative definition of the practice of philosophy. Aristotle, as well as any other philosopher, should be judged solely on the basis of his work and not on the contingent facts and anecdotes that surround it. In Heidegger’s view – and I dare to claim that for once the little magician from Meßkirch speaks for the majority of his peers – biography has no value in philosophy.

Implicitly, Heidegger’s normative definition of his academic practice also works the other way around. If philosophy is only concerned with a person’s theoretical thoughts, there is no need for the individual thinker to be overly concerned with everyday life either. A philosopher’s life takes place in an abstract, conceptual realm. His only responsibility are his ideas. All moral, aesthetic, and practical issues are ultimately meaningless distractions that need to be overcome. A philosopher should dedicate – preferably even sacrifice – his entire life to his thoughts.

Martin Heidegger’s denial to acknowledge the relevance of biographical contingencies for philosophy is ironic to say the least. His name is inseparable from a controversial biographical event: his Nazi engagement and presumed anti-semitism. There is large corpus of academic studies that discusses to what degree Heidegger works are influenced by these biographical events, and a substantial subset that argues that it is entirely contaminated by the fascist ideology.

Without entering these moral, political and psychological debates, I dare to claim that it indisputable that there is a strong relation between the crucial events in Heidegger’s biography and the decisive turns in his philosophy. In my opinion, the philosopher’s life had a direct, almost measurable impact on his thinking. To give a detailed analysis of the reciprocal relation between Heidegger’s philosophy and biography, however, exceeds the goals and limitations of this essay. For present purposes. it suffices to briefly mention two of the most obvious cases:

1. In 1933, Martin Heidegger’s enthusiasm about the person Adolf Hitler, and his wife Elfride’s enthousiasm about the National Socialistic Party (Safranski ..), led the philosopher to accept the rectorate of the university of Freiburg. This new stage in his career almost immediately found a reflection in the concept of ‘leader’ (Führer) that he develops in his acceptance speech The Self-Assertion of the German University (1983). This concept, however, was completely absent and even inconsistent with the existentialist philosophy of Being and Time (1927).

2. Twelve months later, Heidegger’s resignation and subsequent disappointment with the Hitler and the National Socialistic movement resulted in an ever-growing scepticism about the possibilities of human action altogether. A development in Heidegger’s thinking that culminated in his so-called “Letter on Humanism” (1946) and his so-called ‘second’ magnum opus Contributions to Philosophy (1989).

In order to fully comprehend – or reject – Heidegger’s philosophy, it seems crucial to take such events into consideration. In my opinion, the important and often sudden turns in the philosopher’s thoughts – which have been heavily debated amongst Heidegger scholars – cannot be explained solely on the basis of his writings. It is neither possible nor preferable to ignore the influence of such biographical contingencies on his philosophy altogether. Heidegger’s own life story shows that the harsh line that he drew in order to separate thought from life needs to be softened.

“That double lead voice was a mistake on my part […] Marvin had cut two lead vocals, and wanted me to prepare a tape with the rhythm track up the middle and each of his vocals on separate tracks so he could compare them. Once I played that two-track mix on a mono machine and he heard both voices at the same time by accident.” (Sands qtd. in Edmonds 2001: 121–122)

Gaye liked this side-effect to such an extent that he not only decided to keep it, but pushed it to the extremes on his next album also titled What’s Going On. No longer content with the mere duplication of the single version, the artist multiplied his voice several times on the final mix of title track and the other songs on the album. After the release of What’s Going On, these harmonic, multilayered vocals quickly became Marvin Gaye’s hallmark style.

Although the singer and the engineer never planned to record them as such, the strange duet did not fall from the sky either. I would argue that the occurrence of the singer’s and engineer’s fortunate accident was due to an excess rather than a lack of talent. This mistake builds on Gaye and Sand’s respective expertise and skill sets. To use philosophical jargon: their fortunate accident was not random, it was contingent .

Marvin Gaye – who produced the album himself – and his team of musicians and engineers were engaged in many experiments with the sound recording technology available to them. They wanted to record an album that sound different from anything else on the market at the time. One of the biggest challenges that they faced was a way to make What’s Going On sound like one cohesive unit rather than a collection of songs. Gaye wanted to eliminate the cuts between the individual tracks so that the album flowed continuously. While conductor and arranger David van dePitte suggested the use of so-called segues to connect the individual songs, the sound engineers came up with a different solution:

“The studio technology was still pretty primitive […] To edit, you had to physically cut the tape with a blade. So when the basic rhythm tracks were done, Ken Sands and Cal Harris took the multi-tracks and edited the entire album together by hand. It was quite an accomplishment.” (Smith qtd. in Edmonds 2001: 167–168)

After they cut and pasted the entire album together, Sands and Harris overdubbed the strings and horns directly onto the master mix.

There is no causal relation between the engineers’ experiments and the accident that occurred during the “What’s Going On” sessions Nonetheless, I believe such innovations testify to an openness that is needed to recognize such fortunate contingencies when they occur. In a more traditional recording session, the creative potential of the same event would probably have been dismissed or even gone unnoticed.

Marvin Gaye’s extraordinary vocal talents were also essential to the occurrence of this particular accident. A lesser singer simply would not have pulled it off. Gaye originally intended to have The Originals – a male vocal group that he occasionally wrote and produced for – to record “What’s Going On”. Like many other Motown acts, such as The Temptations and The Four Tops, the members of The Originals all covered a different range in the spectrum. Gaye’s own voice, however, could cover the entire range. By multilayering his voice, multitrack recording rendered other singers obsolete. Gaye did not need anyone else to record complex harmonies any longer. Through the doubling, tripling and sometimes even quadrupling of his voice, multi-track recording made it possible for the artist to sing the different voices on What’s Going all by himself.

“His multitracked voices were startling. He’d become a one-man Moonglows, a one-man Originals, singing duets and trios with himself, juxtaposing his silky falsetto and sandpapery midrange, weaving the fabric of his voices into a tapestry of contrasting shapes and colors.” (Ritz 149)

Apart from the skills and talents of everyone involved, “What’s Going On”’s duet between Gaye and himself also presupposes the multitrack technology – an eight-track recorder to be precise – itself. It might sound obvious, but it is crucial to acknowledge that Sands and Gaye would have never stumbled upon it on a typewriter, or even a single tape deck. The mistake now known as What’s Going On is part of a complex constellation that consists of the artist, musicians, engineers, and technology.

In ”Signature Event Context”, Derrida unfolds the radical consequences of Ferdinand de Saussure’s argument that spacing – on a material level – is a precondition for any kind of linguistic structure:

“This force of rupture is due to the spacing with constitutes the written sign: the spacing which separates it from other elements of the internal contextual chain (the always open possibility of its extraction and grafting), but also from all the forms of a present referent (past or to come in the modified form of the present or to come) that is objective or subjective. The spacing is not the simple negativity of a lack, but the emergence of the mark.” (Derrida 317)

As opposed to the aspirations of the Swiss linguist’s, “Signature Event Context” demonstrates that these constitutional gaps and breaches can never be bridged. Breaking with a context, any context, is both cause and effect of all writing and speaking. Since the emergence of these meaning-producing ruptures can impossibly be explained from the context with which they break, Derrida refers to them as events.

Due to these ruptures, statements and utterances cannot be used in an inappropriate manner. Or at least, there is no false use in respect to an original context or addressee. The intentions of an author, or the norms, values, and customs of a historical discourse, can never – not even partially – determine the proper use of an utterance. A statement has to be iterable (repeatable, citable) in any possible context in order to be legible at all.

“The possibility of repeating, and therefore identifying, marks is implied in every code, making of it a communicable, transmittable, decipherable grid that is iterable for a third party, and thus for any possible user in general” (315)

According to Derrida, every linguistic system has to consists solely of quotable marks. A system of differences – spacing – is a precondition for this radical iterability. Even speaking is therefore a form of writing. The fact, however, that these potential citations neither have an original nor an ultimate meaning, does not imply that they are completely devoid of sense. On the contrary, each utterance or statement – more precisely, each instantiation of an utterance or a statement – by definition produces its own context. Its proper use and meaning coincide with an act of writing, and it is in that very broad sense that language is performative.

To a student of Friedrich Nietzsche like Jacques Derrida, this universalizing conclusion — every statement is iterable; language is always performative — would not make sense, if it were not immediately followed by a pluralizing gesture: there are different modes of iteration. It is exactly in pluralizing and specifying these broad, abstract categories that Derrida sees opportunities for future philosophical research. Towards the end of “Signature Event Context”, he states:

“Thus, one must less oppose citation or iteration to the noniteration of the event, than construct a differential typology of forms of iteration, supposing that this is a tenable project that can give rise to an exhaustive program, a question I am holding off on here. In this typology, the category of intention will not disappear; it have its place, but from this place it will no longer be able to govern the entire scene and the entire system of utterances. Above all, one then would be concerned with different type of marks or chains of iterable marks, and not with an opposition between citational statements on the one hand, and singular and original statement-events on the other.” (326)

Rather than finding or constructing an origin, truth, presence, or consciousness, Derrida proposes to capitalize on the possibilities that emerge from the lack of such a foundation for knowledge. Hence, a typology of iterations. To cover this programmatic aspect of “Signature Event Context”, however, I find the terms iteration and citation an unfortunate choice. These two words suggest that Derrida’s argument is limited to linguistics, while it actually applies to all forms of writing. Each mark that emerges necessarily breaks with its context; every inscription is an event.

I would argue that Derrida’s usage of the terms iteration and citation in “Signature Event Context” is strategic. He needs them to emphasize the impossibility of singularity in language; To show that every utterance is defined by it iterability. When Derrida calls for a typology of forms iterations, however, these concepts actually obscure rather than clarify his point. Derrida does not literally wants to classify different forms of citation, he wants to explore the heterogeneous acts that invoke events. There are many ways to break with a context. In order to emphasize this broader relevance of Derrida’s critique, I propose to replace the term iteration with (medial) operation.