MODERN CRITICAL THEORY

Course Code: 101501EN

SECTION I
4. Explain the concept of Author?

Michel Foucault, a French philosopher and social theorist, is widely known for his

critical studies of power, knowledge, and discourse, which have had a profound impact on

fields like philosophy, sociology, and literary theory. His work often explores how societal

structures and institutions shape knowledge and human behaviour. In his 1969 essay ‘What is

an Author?’, Foucault represents a major shift in the way we understand authorship, moving

away from the traditional view that places the author at the centre of meaning and creation in

a text. Instead, Foucault proposes that authorship is not merely about the identity of an

individual writer but is shaped by broader cultural, historical, and social factors. This view

marks a departure from earlier notions of the author as the unique and original creator of a

text. Foucault's essay challenges the assumption that the author is an essential part of the text

itself, and he introduces the idea that authorship functions differently across various

discourses.

Foucault begins his essay by questioning the conventional relationship between a text

and its author. Traditionally, the author was seen as an intrinsic part of a text, an idea that can

be traced back to the Romantic period when authorship was synonymous with genius and

originality. However, in modern times, Foucault suggests that writing has become "liberated"

from the author. He refers to a statement by the writer Samuel Beckett: "What does it matter

who is speaking?" This question encapsulates the major shift in contemporary writing, where

the focus is increasingly on the text itself rather than on the identity of its creator. Foucault

points out that this shift reflects two significant trends in modern literature: first, the
liberation of writing from the necessity of expressing the author's individuality, and second,

the tendency for writing to efface the author's presence altogether. This transformation marks

a profound departure from earlier traditions where writing was often viewed as a way to

immortalize the author or the hero. In contrast, modern writing, as Foucault argues, is

characterized by the "death" of the author in the sense that personal characteristics and

individualities of the author are erased or made irrelevant. Instead, the text becomes an

independent entity, capable of standing on its own.

Foucault delves deeper into this discussion by exploring the concept of "work."

Historically, the notion of "work" was closely tied to the author, with a clear demarcation

between what was considered the author's authentic work and what was not. However,

Foucault argues that the definition of "work" is far more complex than it appears. He uses the

example of Friedrich Nietzsche to illustrate this point. Nietzsche's unpublished notebooks, for

instance, raise the question of what should be counted as part of his "authentic" work. Does

the work include all writings by the author, or only those texts that were intentionally

published? This raises complex issues about how we categorize and define a "work" in

relation to the author. Foucault's interrogation of the concept of "work" is significant because

it questions whether we can ever fully eliminate the author from the text. Even when the

author is seemingly absent or effaced, the question of authorship still arises in the way we

categorize and interpret texts. In essence, the traditional link between the author and the text

is destabilized, leading to new ways of thinking about what constitutes a "work."

Foucault also introduces the concept of "writing" (écriture), which, in the post-

structuralist sense, no longer serves to express the author's intent or personality. Instead,

writing becomes a space where the author disappears. This does not mean that writing is

devoid of meaning or significance; rather, it means that writing now functions independently

of the author's identity. Writing, in this sense, becomes a site where the individual author is
erased, and what remains is the text itself. This process of erasing the author from the text

does not leave a void; instead, it opens up new possibilities for interpretation and meaning

within discourse. Foucault’s concept of writing as an anonymous act is key to understanding

his critique of traditional notions of authorship. In this framework, the author's name ceases

to function as a simple reference to a historical individual. Instead, the name of the author

becomes a marker of a particular body of work and ideas. For instance, when we speak of

"Shakespeare," we are not just referring to the person who lived and wrote during the

Elizabethan era, but also to a body of literary work, a set of ideas, and a mode of thought that

continues to influence literature and culture today. The author's name, in this context, takes

on a symbolic function, representing a particular kind of discourse or intellectual tradition.

Foucault delves further into the significance of the author's name, emphasizing that

the name serves not just to identify a historical individual, but also to categorize and

systematize ideas within discourse. The author’s name, according to Foucault, is part of a

system of knowledge and power that organizes texts, assigning cultural value and authority to

certain works while marginalizing others. For example, debates about the authorship of

Shakespeare’s plays highlight this distinction between the individual author and the body of

work associated with the name. Regardless of who actually wrote the plays, the name

"Shakespeare" carries with it immense cultural and intellectual weight. Thus, the author's

name becomes a function of discourse, conferring authority, recognition, and status on certain

texts. Foucault's concept of the *author function* is critical in this regard. He defines it as a

cultural and social construct, rather than a natural or inherent trait of all discourse. The

‘author function’ is linked to the legal and institutional frameworks that govern how

discourse is produced, distributed, and consumed. It is not uniform across all types of texts or

in all cultures and does not automatically attribute a text to its creator. Instead, it involves

specific operations that transform a discourse into one that requires an author. This process
can generate multiple identities or "subject positions" within the same author function,

allowing for different classes of individuals to occupy the space of the author.

One of the key contributions of Foucault’s essay is his introduction of the ‘author

function’. The ‘author function’ is not simply the identification of a person who wrote a text,

but rather a construct that emerges from social, historical, and legal contexts. It is a function

that governs how a text is interpreted and how it fits within the broader framework of

discourse. According to Foucault, the ‘author function’ operates in four key ways:

1. Legal and Institutional Systems: The ‘author function’ is closely tied to systems of

law and ownership, particularly in the way discourse is produced, circulated, and consumed.

The author is often invoked in legal contexts, particularly concerning copyright and

intellectual property, which serve to regulate the ownership of ideas and texts.

2. Variability Across Civilizations: The ‘author function’ is not a universal concept

and operates differently in various societies and historical periods. For example, in some

ancient cultures, the author was not considered important, and texts were often attributed to

divine or collective sources. In contrast, modern Western societies place a great deal of

emphasis on the individual author as a source of originality and creativity.

3. Complex Attribution Processes: The ‘author function’ involves a complex process

of attribution, whereby certain discourses require an author to be recognized, while others do

not. This process is not always straightforward and often depends on the type of text or

discourse in question.

1. 4. Multiplicity of Selves: The ‘author function’ allows for the possibility of multiple

identities or subject positions within the same discourse. An author may assume different

roles or personas depending on the context or the kind of work they produce, challenging

the traditional notion of the author as a unified, singular identity.

 Foucault contrasts his concept of the ‘author function’ with Roland Barthes' argument

in "The Death of the Author." Barthes suggests that focusing on the author hinders textual

interpretation and that readers should engage with the text itself, independent of authorial

intent. Barthes’ view aligns with the New Criticism movement, where figures like T.S. Eliot

advocated for the "impersonality" of the poet. In Eliot’s "Tradition and the Individual

Talent," he argues that personal emotions should not overshadow the text, influencing

Barthes' later ideas.

However, Foucault critiques Barthes’ position, arguing that while the singular idea of

the author as a creative genius might be deconstructed, the ‘author function’ persists in

shaping how texts are produced and interpreted. The ‘author function’ acts as a framework for

organizing and categorizing discourse, even as it distances itself from the traditional view of

authorship.

At this point, it's also essential to consider how hermeneutics and deconstruction

interact with Foucault’s critique of authorship. In hermeneutics, the quest for authorial intent

has been central. Traditional hermeneutic theory seeks to uncover the meaning ascribed by

the author. Foucault problematizes this approach by arguing that authorial intent is not a fixed

or singular concept.

In contrast, deconstruction, particularly as theorized by Jacques Derrida, emphasizes

the instability of meaning and questions the possibility of fully capturing authorial intent.

This approach aligns with Foucault’s view of the ‘author function,’ suggesting that the search

for a cohesive authorial meaning is both futile and misguided. John D. Caputo expands on

Foucault’s ideas, arguing that the ‘author function’ itself is a historical construct that can be

deconstructed. Caputo’s insights reinforce Foucault’s critique by suggesting that authorship is

not a fixed identity tied to a writer’s intention but a fluid and dynamic concept that evolves

with time.

Thus, Foucault's exploration of the ‘author function’ opens up a broader

understanding of how authorship operates, intersecting with legal, historical, and

philosophical ideas. Rather than erasing the author altogether, as Barthes proposes, Foucault

offers a more complex and enduring role for the author within discourse, while still

acknowledging the limitations of traditional concepts of authorship.

Foucault also introduces the concept of "founders of discursivity," which refers to

figures like Freud or Marx, who not only created their own works but also established the

rules and foundations for entire fields of knowledge. These figures are distinct from other

authors because their works generate new discourses that extend beyond their original texts.

For example, Freud's theories of psychoanalysis or Marx’s theories of historical materialism

have created entire bodies of discourse that continue to influence thought long after the

original works were published. Foucault contrasts these founders with more traditional

authors like Ann Radcliffe, whose Gothic novels may have inspired resemblances and

analogies in other narratives but did not establish a discursive field in the same way.

In considering the contemporary value of Foucault's *What is an Author?*, it’s

evident that his ideas resonate deeply in today's digital, globalized world, where the

boundaries of authorship, authority, and textual production are more fluid than ever. The

decentralization of authorship in the digital age, where content is often collectively produced

or anonymized, echoes Foucault’s notion of the *author function* transcending the

individual. Online platforms and the rise of influencers, bloggers, and anonymous

contributors demonstrate that authorship is not about a single, identifiable creator, but rather a

product of broader social and cultural forces.

 The digital environment raises questions about authority and authenticity. The lines

between private identity and public persona blur, with the *author function* being

commodified as a brand. This commodification of authorship also points to ethical concerns

about how much of the author remains genuine versus how much is strategically constructed

for mass consumption. These concerns align with Foucault's argument that authorship is as

much about the systems of discourse surrounding the text as it is about the creator

themselves.

Foucault’s analysis also prompts reflection on the role of the reader in interpreting

texts. The diminishing importance of the author’s intent opens new possibilities for readers,

who can actively shape the meaning of texts. This perspective, liberating as it is, allows texts

to evolve over time, becoming relevant to different audiences in varying contexts. For literary

criticism, this suggests a shift from seeking the author’s original intent to embracing a

plurality of meanings—a democratized process where interpretation becomes more dynamic

and less confined by the creator’s biography.

From a personal standpoint, Foucault's critique challenges traditional notions of

personal writing, where the author’s identity seems inseparable from the text. In

autobiographical works, for instance, erasing the author from the text feels paradoxical, as

personal experience often defines the narrative. Yet, Foucault’s view reminds us that even in

these cases, the *author function* persists as a carefully constructed figure, shaped by

external forces, revealing the complexity of how authorship operates.

 Foucault's concept of "founders of discursivity" is particularly relevant in the modern

era, where figures like Steve Jobs or Elon Musk do more than create products—they shape

entire discourses around technology and human progress. Unlike Marx or Freud, however,

the influence of contemporary founders of discursivity, often tied to corporate or

technological entities, raises concerns about monopolizing discourse and limiting diverse

perspectives. Foucault’s framework encourages a critical lens toward how power structures

shape discourse, which is crucial in an age where technology influences not only

communication but how knowledge itself is produced.

The relevance of Foucault’s essay in our current context lies in its ability to challenge

static views of authorship and to inspire critical reflection on the systems that govern the

production and interpretation of texts. His critique of the Romantic idea of the author as a

singular genius and his challenge to Barthes’ *Death of the Author* serve as a reminder that

authorship, while evolving, remains a significant force in organizing discourse. The *author

function* persists, even in an age of collaborative, digital, and decentralized content creation.

In conclusion, Foucault’s *What is an Author?* remains highly valuable in today’s

world. It offers a framework for understanding authorship as a complex function within

discourse rather than a fixed identity. While the role of the author continues to evolve,

Foucault’s insights reveal that authorship is deeply intertwined with historical, social, and

cultural contexts. As we navigate the digital era, Foucault's work encourages us to critically

engage with texts, recognizing the multiplicity of meanings they generate and the broader

forces that shape their production and consumption. The author may not be the sole
proprietor of meaning, but the *author function* continues to shape how we read, interpret,

and engage with discourse in all its forms.

**References:** - Foucault, Michel. *What is an Author?* 1969. - Barthes, Roland.

*The Death of the Author*. 1967. - Eliot, T.S. *Tradition and the Individual Talent*. 1919.

Nehamas, Alexander. “What an Author Is.” The Journal of Philosophy, vol. 83, no. 11,

1986, pp. 685–91. JSTOR, http://www.jstor.org/stable/2026619. Accessed 29 Sept. 2024.

Explain the main ideas discussed by Gayatri Spivak in 'Can Subaltern Speak?"

There is no doubt that Gayatri Spivak is one of the most remarkable and outstanding

theorists in postcolonial theory. Along with Said and Bhabha, she is a prominent pillar of the

so-called ‘postcolonial trilogy.’ Additionally, Spivak is one of the foremost feminist critics

who have attained international fame and eminence. Spivak’s writing and field of interest are

diverse, including her feminist perspective on deconstruction, her critique of imperialism and

colonial discourse, her engagement with the Marxist critique of capital and the international

division of labor, and her critique of race in relation to nationality, ethnicity, and immigrant

groups (Landry et al., 1996: 3).

Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak’s "Can the Subaltern Speak?" remains a landmark in

postcolonial studies, raising critical issues about the representation of marginalized groups,

particularly women, within global power structures. Drawing from Antonio Gramsci’s notion

of the “subaltern,” Spivak describes those marginalized by colonial and patriarchal systems,

challenging the ways in which Western intellectuals claim to speak on behalf of these

oppressed groups. Her essay critiques both colonialism and the ongoing knowledge

production in the West that reinforces existing power structures. By engaging with historical,

economic, and social contexts that contribute to the voicelessness of the subaltern, Spivak

illuminates the dynamics of colonization and patriarchy. Her work interrogates how systems

of oppression silence the most marginalized, particularly subaltern women, and questions the

ethics of representation in academic and activist circles.

Spivak's argument compels readers to reconsider the power dynamics embedded in

representation and the limitations of speaking for others, particularly across different cultural

contexts. Furthermore, she highlights how the subaltern's voice is consistently filtered

through the lens of the dominant narrative, leading to a situation where their lived
experiences are misrepresented or ignored. This perspective challenges the notion that

marginalized individuals can express their own identities and histories in the public sphere.

Spivak’s seminal essay, "Can the Subaltern Speak?", addresses the complex issue of

whether the subaltern, those marginalized by both colonialism and postcolonial power

structures, can truly have their voices heard in a global context dominated by Western

intellectual frameworks. Her primary argument is that the subaltern, due to their position on

the fringes of power, cannot speak in a way that is recognized or understood by dominant

cultures. Even when the subaltern does attempt to speak, their voice is often filtered,

distorted, or ignored by the very structures that claim to be liberating them. According to

Spivak, Western intellectuals, including those who critique colonialism, are often complicit in

perpetuating this silencing by presuming to speak for the subaltern rather than creating a

space for them to speak for themselves. This paradox creates a colonial dynamic that is

maintained, even under the guise of progressive critique.

In her critique, Spivak specifically takes issue with prominent theorists like Michel

Foucault and Gilles Deleuze, whose analyses of power dynamics, while insightful, fail to

account for the unique challenges faced by the subaltern. Despite their efforts to critique

power, both Foucault and Deleuze inadvertently maintain a Eurocentric approach that

overlooks the deeply ingrained inequalities and exclusions present in postcolonial societies.

Spivak argues that their frameworks, which focus on structures of power, often ignore how

those very structures continue to exclude subaltern voices. In this way, Western intellectual

discourse, even in its most critical form, can perpetuate the very silencing of the marginalized

it seeks to oppose.

A crucial concept in Spivak’s argument is **epistemic violence**, which refers to

how dominant knowledge systems, particularly those imposed by colonialism, systematically

silence the oppressed. This violence occurs when certain forms of knowledge are privileged

while others are discredited or erased. Western intellectual frameworks often distort the

experiences of the subaltern, rendering them voiceless within dominant discourse.

For instance, during colonialism, European powers imposed their intellectual and

cultural frameworks on colonized societies, dismissing local knowledge as inferior. This

process of epistemic violence persists in postcolonial societies, where Western ideas of

modernity and progress dominate global discourse. Consequently, the subaltern struggles to

express themselves in ways recognized as legitimate by the dominant culture. When their

voices are acknowledged, they are often interpreted through Western categories, stripping

them of their original context and meaning.

Spivak’s argument becomes more complex with her introduction of intersectionality,

highlighting how multiple forms of oppression—such as gender, class, race, and colonial

history—intersect to intensify the marginalization of subaltern women. She asserts that these

women occupy the lowest rungs of the global social hierarchy, facing compounded

oppression from both colonial and patriarchal structures. Unlike subaltern men, who are

silenced primarily by colonial or class systems, subaltern women experience a dual

marginalization that makes their voices even harder to hear. Their struggles are drowned out

not only by colonial and Western intellectual frameworks but also by the patriarchal systems

within their own societies.

This intersectionality is key to understanding why Spivak places such importance on

the figure of the widow in her essay. The colonial and patriarchal systems collide most

dramatically in her discussion of sati (the practice of widow self-immolation), where the

subaltern woman’s agency is completely erased. The British colonialists claimed to be

“saving” Indian women from this practice, while Indian nationalists defended it as part of
their cultural identity. In both cases, the voice of the subaltern woman was entirely absent;

she was either a victim to be saved or a symbol of tradition to be upheld, but never a subject

in her own right with the capacity to express her desires or resistance. Spivak uses this

example to illustrate the extent of subaltern women’s silencing and how their voices are

continually overwritten by dominant narratives, whether colonial or nationalistic.

In this regard, Spivak’s critique is not only of colonialism but also of the global

systems that continue to reinforce subaltern marginalization, including patriarchy and

economic exploitation. Western intellectuals, she argues, often fail to see how their own

theories continue to participate in this marginalization. Even as they attempt to critique

power, they remain blind to the specific exclusions faced by the subaltern, particularly

subaltern women. By speaking for them, rather than enabling them to speak for themselves,

these intellectuals maintain the very power dynamics they claim to oppose.

Spivak’s engagement with sati underscores the entanglement of knowledge, power,

and representation. She critiques the intellectual’s role in shaping narratives around the

oppressed and questions whether it is possible for those in power to speak for the

marginalized without reinforcing the systems of domination they seek to critique. Her

analysis reveals the paradox of representation: while the subaltern possesses a voice, it is

often drowned out by prevailing discourses of power. The language of privileged

intellectuals, laden with Western epistemologies, can never fully encapsulate the complex

realities of subaltern lives. This raises significant ethical questions about representation: Who

gets to speak for whom? And can any representation ever do justice to the intricacies of

subaltern experiences?

Spivak’s argument extends beyond theoretical critiques to have direct implications for

global development and humanitarian interventions. Often, Western-led development

projects impose external values and ideals, continuing the colonial legacy of speaking for

rather than with marginalized communities. This disenfranchisement echoes Spivak’s critique

of representation, where development and humanitarian actors—though well-meaning—fail

to consider the local contexts, thereby perpetuating the silencing of subaltern voices. Spivak’s

work calls for a shift toward participatory approaches, where marginalized communities

are empowered to articulate their own needs and solutions.

Spivak’s essay remains highly relevant in contemporary global discourse on

representation and justice. In fields like international development and humanitarian work,

the voices of those directly impacted—particularly women in the Global South—are often

excluded or co-opted by more powerful actors. For instance, various humanitarian

interventions in regions like Africa and South Asia often impose Western ideals of

development without considering local contexts. Spivak’s argument calls for greater attention

to how well-meaning interventions can perpetuate the silencing of the marginalized by

imposing external interpretations on their experiences.

Spivak’s work has faced criticism, with some scholars arguing that her claim that the

subaltern cannot speak risks further marginalizing these groups by implying their voices can

never be heard. Critics like Chandra Talpade Mohanty advocate for more participatory

approaches to understanding marginalized communities, emphasizing the need to create

spaces where subaltern voices are respected on their own terms, promoting agency rather than

dependency. In response, Spivak clarifies that she does not mean the subaltern is inherently

voiceless; rather, their voices are often unrecognizable within dominant power structures. She

stresses the importance of dismantling these structures to allow for the expression of

subaltern identities and experiences.

 In her analysis of literary texts, Spivak argues that literature provides a unique space

for representing subaltern voices. Authors like Mahasweta Devi use fictional narratives to

illuminate the struggles of marginalized groups, offering a nuanced understanding of their

realities. Spivak believes literature can disrupt dominant narratives and create platforms for

subaltern voices, though representation remains constrained.

For example, Devi's character Dopdi Mejhen exemplifies the intersection of gender,

class, and political struggle, highlighting the overlooked experiences of subaltern women.

Dopdi’s story reveals the harsh realities faced by tribal women, challenging readers to

confront the complexities of their lived experiences. By showcasing such narratives, Spivak

encourages readers to consider identity intricacies and how storytelling can reclaim agency

for the marginalized.

Additionally, literature critiques the structures that silence subaltern voices. Authors

can portray the subaltern in ways that resist appropriation by dominant discourses, fostering

genuine dialogue and understanding. Spivak’s exploration of literature illustrates its potential

to empower the marginalized while raising ethical questions about representation.

In her essay, Spivak critiques the limitations of Western theoretical frameworks when

applied to non-Western contexts. She suggests that attempts to understand or represent

subaltern experiences are often constrained by the cultural biases of the Western intellectual

tradition. This raises important questions about whether concepts such as “agency” and

“subjectivity” can be translated across cultures without distorting the realities of those being

represented.

A significant criticism of Spivak’s approach is that it operates within the confines of

Western academia, which may itself perpetuate the very problems it seeks to critique. By
positioning herself as an intellectual authority on the subaltern, Spivak risks replicating the

dynamics of speaking about rather than with the subaltern. Scholars like Mohanty have

argued for the importance of creating more dialogical spaces where subaltern voices can

articulate their own experiences without mediation from external intellectuals.

Spivak acknowledges these tensions in her work, advocating for a decolonized

approach to knowledge that recognizes the importance of local epistemologies. This entails a

shift away from viewing knowledge production as a hierarchical process dominated by

Western thought, toward a more inclusive framework that values diverse perspectives. By

engaging with the specific cultural, historical, and social contexts of the subaltern, scholars

and activists can work towards creating more equitable platforms for representation.

In an era focused on social justice, decolonization, and intersectionality, Spivak’s

critique serves as a vital lens to examine ongoing inequalities. Marginalized voices are still

excluded from dominant narratives in politics, media, and academia. The COVID-19

pandemic further highlights Spivak’s arguments, as it exacerbated global inequalities and

exposed the vulnerabilities of marginalized communities, especially in the Global South.

Access to vaccines and economic relief often favoured wealthier nations, sidelining the

voices and needs of poorer regions. This echoes Spivak’s concept of epistemic violence,

where global power structures dictate what is considered legitimate knowledge, silencing the

subaltern in critical health discourses. Media and governments frequently spoke for

marginalized groups, reinforcing the notion that their lived experiences remain unrecognized.

In conclusion, Spivak's work offers a crucial critique of representation and the role of

intellectuals in perpetuating systems of domination. Her assertion that the subaltern cannot

speak within dominant frameworks raises important ethical questions about representation
and global power relations. While her work faces criticism for potentially reinforcing the

subaltern’s marginalization, it also sparks vital debates about inclusive approaches to

understanding marginalized communities. Ultimately, Spivak’s scholarship challenges us to

rethink who speaks, how we listen, and the structures that inhibit genuine dialogue, urging

critical engagement with power and representation.

references

- Deleuze, Gilles, and Félix Guattari. *Anti-Oedipus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia*.

Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1983.

- Foucault, Michel. *Power/Knowledge: Selected Interviews and Other Writings,

1972–1977*. Edited by Colin Gordon. New York: Pantheon Books, 1980.

- Gramsci, Antonio. *Selections from the Prison Notebooks*. New York: International

Publishers, 1971.

- Mohanty, Chandra Talpade. *Feminism Without Borders: Decolonizing Theory,

Practicing Solidarity*. Durham: Duke University Press, 2003.

- Spivak, Gayatri Chakravorty. "Can the Subaltern Speak?" In *Marxism and the

Interpretation of Culture*, edited by Cary Nelson and Lawrence Grossberg, 271-313. Urbana:

University of Illinois Press, 1988.

- ---------. "Gayatri Spivak on the Politics of the Subaltern." (Interview with Howard

Winant). *Socialist Review* 3 (1990): 81–97.

 - ---------. "Subaltern Studies: Deconstructing Historiography." In *The Spivak

Reader*, edited by Donna Landry and Gerald Maclean, 203–236. New York: Routledge,

1996.

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