I have noticed that some readers — probably more than meets the eye — have difficulty understanding what is meant by the notion that one is “spoken” or “constructed” by discourse. A concrete example of how this happens may clarify things somewhat.

Some time ago, as part of a discourse-analysis project with other members of a reading group at the [then] University of Port Elizabeth, we embarked on the reading and interpretation of criminal-case court transcripts kindly made available to us (for research purposes) courtesy of the court and the transcription company concerned. We followed the example set by Michel Foucault and his doctoral student research group, who had conducted a discourse-analysis of the court documents surrounding a case of murder dating back to 1835, and published their findings in a book titled I, Pierre Riviere, having slaughtered my mother, my sister, and my brother… A case of parricide in the 19th century (1982). Our findings were published separately by individual members of the group.

As indicated in previous posts, discourse analysis is an interpretive approach predicated on the conception of language as discourse — that is, as “relations of signification or meaning in the service of power”. This approach is therefore intent on uncovering the power relations embedded in language.

What struck us about the reading of the court document transcripts by Foucault and his collaborators was that it brought to light the various, competing discourses of the time (1835), where one could clearly detect the way in which, for example, the juridical discourse and the medical (incipient psychiatric) discourse of the time were squaring off in the process of claiming the hermeneutic terrain that was “appropriate” in explaining the young murderer’s motives in killing his mother, sister and brother horribly with a pruning hook. And then there was Riviere’s singular discourse, too, in the guise of a memoir penned while he was in prison.

In the “crossfire” between these different discourses, each of which explained the murder differently (given the incompatible interests involved), the murder in question revealed not merely the motivating forces at play in its execution, but simultaneously the field of forces that constituted the France of the time — a France in transition from a pre-revolutionary, monarchical state to a post-revolutionary, post-Napoleonic democracy, where all citizens were supposed to have equal rights, but where, given the emergence of new discursive dominations, this was not the case.

For instance, while, in principle, everyone enjoyed equality before the law, Foucault and his team noted that the violence attendant upon the old monarchical hierarchy was simply replaced by the “abstract violences of money”, to which especially the poor were subject. Does this sound familiar? It certainly did to the members of our reading group, in so far as the parallel between the France of that time, and post-apartheid South Africa were obvious. Here, too, the old, politically established hierarchies of apartheid had made way for different hierarchies, this time of mainly of an economic kind, where the “abstract violence of money” replaced the violence of apartheid race laws.

Poor people (mainly, but not exclusively, black people in the townships) in post-1994 South Africa were constitutionally, de jure, “equal” to their wealthy compatriots, but certainly not in a de facto sense. And in the “new” South Africa, where the economic discourse of “development”, in different guises (RDP, GEAR, BEE) soon became the dominant government discourse (with all the power-relations that it sought to establish and promote), this did not leave the lives of ordinary people untouched either. I should emphasise that not only (the majority of) black people have been affected in this way — individuals of all races have been exposed to the effect of the new dispensation, for reasons peculiar to, among other things, their respective positions in the socioeconomic fabric.

This economic-discursive re-arrangement of social relations — which one could detect in the court transcripts of the cases that we looked at — has been complicated by the persistence, alongside of the economic discourse, of one of the oldest and most pervasive discourses in the world, namely patriarchy (the “rule of the father”), which was equally evident in the documents at our disposal. And as might be expected, where these two discourses operate together, it sometimes produces explosive results, even in the form of murder, especially when it is apparent from the documents in question that the individuals concerned were unable to free themselves (as they always are, in principle) from the discourses that held them captive, as it were, instead becoming the instruments of the power that functions through such discourses.

Here I can do no more than to provide a glimpse of what is at stake, through a fragment of a full-length paper that was published in a book — the part pertaining to the case against murder-accused (and convicted) Willie Kroon (1995).*

Willie Kroon was convicted of killing his girlfriend, Catherine Claxton, in June 1995, after what was apparently a turbulent relationship of about a year. A reading of his own account of the events leading up to her death shows the functioning of what I called an “economic discourse”earlier — one involving issues concerning the material conditions of living (the word “economic” is derived from the Greek for “household management”).

Given the fact that they were experiencing economic hardship, one could also term this discourse one of survival. A particular quarrel, which culminated in Kroon hitting Catherine, resulted from a discussion of alternative accommodation and better-paid or additional jobs: Catherine complained about the cost of their accommodation; Kroon, in turn, held her responsible for doing something to amplify their income. Numerous further references to a chronic shortage of money in Kroon’s testimony highlight the fundamental function of such an economic discourse in the structuring of their lives as a space of deprivation. Here is an excerpt from his court evidence during the trial (my translation from the Afrikaans):

“Catherine and I were at home that day, and so on. That evening we started — we started in the kitchen, we quarrelled and so on. She started talking about we have to find a different place to stay and so on because it is too expensive. Then I said ‘No she must see if she can’t find a better job or she must try to do more sketches or so’. Ag, and later then everything just turned out that we started quarrelling an’ that. We were then in the room. I lost my temper and I slapped her with the back of my hand and I hit her above her nose … She fell backwards and hit her head against the wall. It wasn’t my intention to slap her so that she should fall or anything, it was only a reflection” [sic].

To demonstrate in detail how discourse-analysis operates, I shall quote a fairly lengthy excerpt from the paper referred to earlier (omitting the explanatory footnotes, many of them excerpts from the court documents)* (Please forgive the “academic” language):

“Importantly, though, another discourse — the patriarchal — intersects with the economic in his [Kroon’s] account — one which is perhaps not immediately noticeable, but undeniably operates with such force that it triggers a violent (re)action on Kroon’s part. The symptomatic word in his testimony (quoted above) is “reflection”, presumably meant as “reflex”, which is how he describes the blow he gave her on this particular occasion. Symptomatic of what? A reflex is an involuntary action, movement or response; one that, as he (presumably accurately) indicates, he had not intended. Significantly, one of the cardinal insights on the part of discourse theorists is that we do not only speak, but “are spoken” by the discourses which constitute our subjectivity (here I refer to Derrida). Here is a concrete instance: the reflex in question is a symptom of Kroon (specifically, his body) being under the sway of such a discourse — the discourse of patriarchy.

This may seem far-fetched, but consider: they quarrel about money, about what they can and cannot do because of their financial position; he loses his temper; he hits her. Why? Catherine was a woman. She differed from Kroon on their best course of action to improve their economic lot. So much so that she quarrelled with him about it. Patriarchy, which means “the rule of the father”, cannot endure insubordination, no matter how “reasonable” the patriarchal subject may be. After all, subordination of women and children is constitutive of patriarchal “reason”. Its “logic” demands subordination. Hence Kaja Silverman’s (referenced) characterisation of it as “murderous”; and if this cannot be achieved in verbal space, it has to be inflicted on the body — in this case Catherine’s. This is why it was a “reflex”: it issued logically, of necessity, from the cratological demands of patriarchal discursive practice, in its intertwinement with an ‘economic’ discourse of survival. It was the same fatal intertwinement which set the discursive logic in motion that would turn the domestic space that they shared into a violent space.

The events which culminated in Catherine’s death on June 10 1995 were set in the context of a Saturday appointment to watch rugby at a friend’s house in the afternoon. They prepared for this by selling a pair of brass valves at a scrapyard (referenced in court documents) to be able to buy meat and beer for the occasion. Things seem to have taken a bad turn when Catherine announced that she was going ahead of Kroon to the friend’s house — something that clearly angered the latter. On his way to the friend’s house later, he encountered her in the street. They returned home to talk things over, and gradually Catherine’s desperation about their uncertain financial situation, combined with Kroon’s unwillingness to consider alternatives to his present employment, developed into a major row.

Again, the (economic) discourse of survival which, in their case, clearly did not — could not — function in an empowering manner, set the scene for conflict. Catherine had specific ideas in this regard; ideas which did not appeal to Kroon. It is difficult to work out why this was the case. Perhaps he was not prepared to risk leaving the security of his job for the uncertainty of trying to make it on their own in an entrepreneurial capacity of some sort; perhaps it was the patriarchal discourse “speaking (through) him” in the form: “It is unacceptable to yield to a woman’s initiative”. Perhaps it was a combination of both. But in either case their shared social space had become a precarious place, one fraught with the proximity of death. Uncannily, it is as if Catherine knew this, and resigned herself to it.

At that point the friend, Cecil, arrived to inquire whether they were still intending to join him at his place. He must have smelled a rat, for according to Kroon he asked what was going on. While they were talking, Catherine arrived on the scene wet through, having got out of the bath — apparently at the sound of Cecil’s voice — and told him that she wanted to go with him, because she did not want to stay there. Unfortunately for her, Cecil did not heed her wish, but returned to his car, exclaiming that they should “finish” what they were doing and come to his place. Judging by his description of the ensuing events, Kroon found Catherine’s desire to go with Cecil unbearable, for no sooner had the latter left, than he assaulted her. He denied any intention on his part to strangle Catherine, citing as evidence the fact that she managed to push him away. When he “grabbed” her once more, she bit his thumb. Eventually he threatened to give her a hiding with her own “slip-slop” (sandal), because, he claimed, he was afraid of what might happen if he used his fists.

This claim is significant: it articulates, clumsily but unmistakably, Kroon’s awareness that certain bodily actions — as distinct from others — might initiate a chain of sequences that are lethal. Why? Because he doubted his self-control? But why should that be the case? Because his words indicate that he knew, however intuitively, that those actions are themselves interbraided with a discursive logic that has but one final, logical outcome, namely, woman’s death. Earlier already, when he put his hands around her neck, that discursive logic started taking physical shape. Catherine’s last, desperate but unsuccessful attempt to save herself by appealing to Cecil set in motion the discursive machinery that would inevitably lead to her demise. One might read jealousy into Kroon’s words and the actions described by him. Possessiveness would be more accurate, though, and again it would not simply be a question of temper and temperament, although the temperament of the individual subject would play a crucial role in the manner and effects of the way that a specific discourse is appropriated and modulated in individual actions.

The point is that possessiveness is built into the discourse that prioritises male power — recall that, until late in the 19th century, wives were identified as their husbands’ “property” in British law, for instance — even, or perhaps especially, under circumstances which conspire to undermine male power, as it happened in the case of Kroon and Catherine … They were economically unempowered, perhaps even disempowered, in their experience of the post-1994 political situation where white privilege was no longer something that would provide economic reassurance. Like the peasants in early 19th-century France, they may have felt “cheated” by the contract, albeit — as suggested earlier — in a sense that differs from the way it applies to many black South Africans, who may feel that their expectations have not been met. If one takes one’s cue from the Riviere case (analysed by Foucault and his research group), it could be expected that such feelings of powerlessness would be vented on those who are economically and socially unempowered, by those who are similarly afflicted, especially within close relationships. The discursive strands that bear on social, political and economic matters cannot be separated from the patriarchal one, however — their effect impinged disruptively on this last vestige of the male subject’s cratological integrity. If that, too, were to be questioned, as it was bound to be in a world where the economic and social emancipation of women has gained unstoppable momentum — a process in which Catherine obviously participated, albeit minimally — it would be unbearable. It was, for Kroon.

A question that unavoidably obtrudes itself at this point, is the question of culpability, which cannot be addressed at length here. But if the impression has been created that someone (in this case Kroon), who is an agent of the “logic” of a certain discourse, is not responsible for his/her actions, I would hasten to correct it: whatever the specific character of the multiple discourses by which our subjectivities are constructed, they are bound to include oppositional possibilities, such as the discourse of “free will” in various guises, whether it is in the language of personal choice, of decision, responsibility, accountability or some other notion which presupposes freedom of volition. As Foucault puts it: “There is no power without potential refusal or revolt” As such, these volitional discursive spaces provide a foothold, at least potentially, from which a dominant discourse may be challenged and/or defused by the very subject who enacts or functions as the agent of its dominance. Kroon was no exception.

One of the discursive symptoms of the fact that Catherine was “crowding Kroon’s space” unbearably, so to speak, is his allusion to his wish to spend the day peacefully or restfully, unperturbed by further arguments between them. This “peaceful” passing of the day would consist in watching rugby, one of the most comfortable paradigms of patriarchal discourse available to anyone who felt assailed by all kinds of discursive disruptions. Even more symptomatic of Kroon approaching breaking point in the process of his body being constituted as the site of confrontation between divergent discourses, is — and here the effect of this confrontation becomes spatially concrete — the fact that he placed his hands around her neck. In the first instance, this suggests the intention to throttle, but also to control, especially with regard to speech. Someone who is being throttled cannot speak words that offend the assailant’s ears, cannot interpellate the assailant’s discursive constitution by means of a competing, oppositional discourse. To defend the threatened discursive space, the offending voice has to be silenced, perhaps terminally.

Considering the recurrent misunderstandings of phrases like “the discursive construction of one’s subjectivity” in previous posts, I hope this long extract gives interested readers some indication of the interpretive process that has to be engaged in when reading linguistic utterances (verbal or written) as “discourse”, that is, with a view to uncovering the power-relations at work in them — power-relations that are unavoidably expressed in individuals’ actions. I must stress again, however — as it should be apparent from the above — that no one is necessarily determined or coerced by the dominant discourses that structure or “construct” one’s psyche – one is ALWAYS able to break their grip on one’s words and actions, even if, in many cases (as indeed in Kroon’s) this does not happen. (In the paper concerned, I also analyse another murder case, with similar findings.)

* For anyone interested in reading the paper concerned, as well as another, related paper pertaining to a different crime, their publication details are as follows:

  • Bert Olivier: Discourse, space and violence. Chapter in: Spaces and crossings. Essays on literature and culture in Africa and beyond, edited by C. von Maltzan & R. Wilson. Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang Publishers, March 2001, pp.301-318;
  • Bert Olivier: Discourse, agency and the question of evil. South African Journal of Philosophy, Vol. 22 (4), December 2003, pp. 329-348.

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Bert Olivier

Bert Olivier

As an undergraduate student, Bert Olivier discovered Philosophy more or less by accident, but has never regretted it. Because Bert knew very little, Philosophy turned out to be right up his alley, as it...

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