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Literary Research/Recherche littéraire 20.39-40 (2003): 228-240 The Fingerprint of Spirit Freud says that the experience of déjà vu is symptomatic of something from the unconscious trying to come to consciousness — hence the association of déjà vu with a feeling of the uncanny, the not-home at home, as if something from one register of experience had crossed over into another, as if the membrane between this world and another quivered, trembled and became porous, allowing or compelling some kind of transaction to take place. I was in a place made specifically for transactions: Chapters. On the one hand, the experience of déjà vu in a chain store seems to go with the territory: all Chapters are of course the same, familiar — we've always already been to Chapters. Our experience — an important word that I will return to — of the spaces of corporate capital is such that it is no longer disturbing to us if we go to the mall and can't find our car in the parking lot afterwards, or indeed if we can't even find the exit from such a labyrinth that traps us and interpellates us as consumers who are in turn consumed. I was in Chapters looking for the book section. It was behind a phantasmagoria of scented candles, plush toys, yoga mats and Belgian chocolates. And this is the point at which déjà vu slips into the uncanny: the New Age Spirituality section was allotted more than twice the shelf space as Philosophy. Why does this matter, how is it uncanny; under the law of exchange value thought, critical thought — philosophy, theory — is of course for sale in such surroundings, but perhaps more important is the extent to which something professing to be Spirit finds itself made material if not flesh, commodified, in the form of incense, candles and yoga mats, but also of the actual books on the shelves. Would Hegel have recognized this particular instantiation of spirit? To the extent that the store itself evokes a kind of pomo mausoleum, haunted by the shufflings of the living dead in need of latte before life and consciousness are options, or alternatively collapsing into an accommodating armchair to sleep while pretending to read, Hegel's gloss on the fate of the Idea, of Spirit, in the thrall of the massy "symbolic" form of art comes to mind: spirit here has not yet found its appropriate form; form here is too material; it is too melancholy, especially with all the suggestions of death that inhere in such a structure (there's a thanatology section too, by the way). He writes, [end page 228] So now the Idea exaggerates natural shapes and the phenomena of reality itself into indefiniteness and extravagance; it staggers round in them, it bubbles and ferments in them, does violence to them, distorts and stretches them unnaturally, and tries to elevate their phenomenal appearance to the Idea by the diffuseness, immensity and splendour of the formations employed. For the Idea is here still more or less indeterminate and unshapable, while the natural objects are thoroughly determinate in their shape. (Aesthetics 76) We can take the bubbles of innumerable frothy lattes as evidence of the struggles of Spirit to find form in these too hospitable surroundings — a $5.00 half and half low-fat mochacino with cream, caramel and cinnamon evokes nothing if not Hegel's "diffuseness, immensity and splendour" — so then let us as well argue that the commodity form that structures and saturates Chapters and Starbucks is determinate — or, better, overdetermined and overdetermining. But if this is where Spirit is, if this is where it seeks to find itself or realize itself, then what does that mean? And what then is Spirit? Evidently still indeterminate in Hegelese, if we take Chapters as one of its putative homes. Is there spirit that is not commodified? Do we believe in Spirit? Should we believe in Spirit? I would like to begin with my beginning, my title. It comes from Theodor Adorno, whose lectures are beginning to be translated and published by Stanford. Adorno was adamant that his course lectures should not be published, even though they were recorded and transcribed. He says, If I were to speak in the way that would be necessary to achieve the authority of a precise account I would be incomprehensible to my audience; nothing I say can do justice to what I demand from a text…. The fact that everywhere today there is a tendency to record extempore speech and then to disseminate it is a symptom of the methods of the administered world which pins down the ephemeral word in order to hold the speaker to it. A tape recording is a kind of fingerprint of the living spirit. (Adorno Gesammelte Schriften 20. q 360 qtd. in Kant's Critique of Pure Reason 283) There exists here a complex and nuanced conception of spirit that I would like to explore, not least because this comment itself is transcribed "ephemeral speech" that finds itself published, fixed, so that I can, here and now, hold Adorno to account, as if I were the administered world that he rails against. Here the living spirit is arrested, fingerprinted, perhaps [end page 229] even put in a line-up by the technologies of reproduction that serve to administer the world. This accounting that technology and administered society exacts of the individual is to be sharply distinguished from justice, which is here evoked by Adorno's desire in relation to the text. He must do justice to what he demands from the text — and this attempt must take the form of writing, of more text — thus his demand compels his accountability in a way that administered society would like to. However, let's not read this as a mere reversal of binaries, one that privileges writing over speech; and let's not do this precisely because of the dialectical reversal implicit here: justice to the text must take the form of text, but justice to spirit is living speech. This is not an opposition of speech and writing; if there is an opposition here it inheres in the juxtaposition of "living speech" and determinate technologies of reproduction, amongst which we are not to include writing, itself no longer a technology or means of administration in that sense. But in this process of administration, spirit nonetheless seems capable of leaving a trace, and it is this trace, this fingerprint that I want to examine, not for the purposes of holding Adorno accountable, but rather to think about what the fingerprint of spirit might be outside of this coercive economy of surveillance and accountability. This fingerprint, this trace or return, this repetition and reproduction, this accounting of spirit follows the logic of an uncanny, even ghostly return happening in the theoretical domain today: surely it can be no coincidence that the spectre comes to be a privileged trope at about the same time as we witness an uncanny return of the modern, or rather elements of the modern thought, that we had previously and now, it seems, prematurely thought consigned to the dustbin of history. But trash is not so easily disposed of, and thus in the theoretical and philosophical sphere, as Fredric Jameson notes, "we witness the return of traditional philosophy all over the world, beginning with the hoariest subfields, such as ethics; can metaphysics be far behind, one wonders..., if not theology itself...?" (A Singular Modernity 2). To such a list it might be tempting to add the aesthetic (a hot topic at the MLA), a topic which might at first seem reactionary — but for now I'll content myself with asserting that the aesthetic, it seems, is a kind of bedrock to which some return after the alleged exhaustion of more engaged modes of reading. Of course the presence of empiricism and positivism in philosophy proper is neither novel nor a return —but its effect upon theory does seem qualitatively new, as ižek suggests with his joke: "If you study the electrical activity of rats' brains you're doing philosophy; if you read Hegel you're doing comp lit." It's the absence of what we call theory from this formation that is telling; and if we add to this my next point — that the ghost announces the return of metaphysics and even theology as forecast by Jameson — then does it [end page 230] seem more or less shocking that "Theory today has become an endangered species"? The proliferation of new discourses that followed from poststructuralist thought of the 60s and 70s, discourses that problematized those traditional philosophical modes whose return I have just detailed, seem to be limping a bit, seem a bit shabby or a bit dispirited. The return of Spirit has taken the form of the return of spirits, immaterial revenants, reminding us of unfinished business, inheritance, trauma, power, the proper name, mourning and so on. Geist is now ghost (if it was ever anything else), while the ghost has assumed the lineaments of what used to be called Spirit. Theory, repeatedly, tediously stigmatized by accusations of abstraction, has — somewhat counter-intuitively — now taken such accusations to heart and has taken the spectre to heart, as if the spectre were itself a kind of pharmakon, both poison and cure, as if through its internalization it might act as a vaccine, giving a kind of form to abstraction, all the while remaining elusive, allusive and ephemeral, outside of rigid philosophical and theoretical economies. What form then has the ghost, Geist, Spirit found in theory? Of course I'm thinking here of Derrida's Spectres of Marx, as well as of all that have followed in its wake. Less remarked upon in this controversial text's reception is the extent to which Derrida's (some would say) deferred encounter with Marx, his testing and transgressing of the traditional borders of materialist thought, carries within itself a remarkable — even immaterial — debt to phenomenology, hidden like the wizened dwarf of theology in Benjamin's chess-playing automaton called cultural materialism — could it be that Derrida's "hauntology" is itself haunted, and by phenomenology? Husserlian "essences" — evoked throughout, but perhaps most present in Derrida's assertion of the irreducibility of justice, the promise and so on — here function as a corrective or rebuke to Heideggerian thought, as Jameson suggests in "Marx's Purloined Letter" [it would be rewarding to see if something similar obtains in Of Spirit]. Now I don't know about you, but I don't remember Speech and Phenomena or Of Grammatology ever suggesting that essences — particularly Husserlian essences — or anything else for that matter could bring the deconstructive mode of thought to an irreducible affirmation. To which Pierre Macherey adds, "wouldn't this position of something undeconstructible — which recalls in its own way the Cartesian cogito — be itself a ghost, the ghost or the 'spirit' of Derrida?" (24). In a specific sense then, the real frictions here are not so much between materialism and ghosts, or materialism and idealism or metaphysics, but come from the antinomy of phenomenological and dialectical thought. Even Kant is haunted: in the Preface to the Second Edition of the Critique of Pure Reason Kant discusses the relation between reason and metaphysics: [end page 231] ... why is it that, in metaphysics, the sure path of science has not been found. Shall we suppose that it is impossible to discover it? Why then should nature have visited our reason with restless aspirations after it, as if it were one of our weightiest concerns? Nay, more, how little cause should we have to place confidence in our reason, if it abandons us in a matter about which, most of all, we desire to know the truth — and not only so, but allures us to the pursuit of vain phantoms, only to betray us in the end? (14-15) Too often, I think, when theoretical discourse seeks to critique Enlightenment thought, Kant serves as a kind of whipping boy or apologist for reason in its worst form. However we need to mark (and remark) that even here in the Preface, Kant's valuation of reason is not uncritical. It is in the nature of reason, says Kant, to lead us astray in pursuit of the spectral, of geist, spirit, and betray us in the end — reason ditches us, does a dine and dash, leaving us to pay the bill for our adventures in metaphysics; it leaves us doubly unsatisfied: first of all with our own understanding of Spirit, but also with our understanding of understanding, of reason. This capacity of reason to betray us, to lead us in chase of phantoms, argues that reason, if not itself a phantom, desires phantoms, desires to address questions of metaphysics. What haunts reason? For Kant, or rather for a particular reading of Kant that I would want to identify with Adorno, reason needs to be limited, needs to limit itself. Kant must put the brakes on reason before it leads us into metaphysics, or leads us in pursuit of phantoms, which is not really the same thing, for intrinsic to Kant's conception of reason, existing alongside his valuation of reason as utopian, as that which will lead humanity out of its self-incurred tutelage, is a conception of reason as critical, even and especially in relation to itself. In this sense theory is — should be — critical theory. Reason recoils from the utopia it also wants to bring about and thus restricts its own validity so that it will not chase phantoms or promote the pursuit of phantoms. However, because of the utopian resonances that inhere in reason it seems as if it must aspire to the Absolute, to Spirit while refraining from leading us to Spirit, to spirits, phantoms. Let us not then call this an aporias — the appropriate Kantian term is antinomy, and it is nowhere more appropriate than here, for this contradiction is fundamental to Kant's project and not just a constitutive undecidability in and of the text. We might instead, following Adorno, call this brake put on reason a block: The vehicle of this ambiguity... is the limitation placed on the critical findings of the critique of reason, the fact that these findings are [end page 232] not themselves unambiguous and so do not come down clearly on one side or other of a question like the existence of God. This in turn is connected with the fact that these findings are logical in nature and hence refer simply to the ability to gain knowledge of such matters, and not to knowledge of these things themselves. The block placed on method, in Kant's view, the assumption of an irreducible residue, of something non-identical, the negative side of Enlightenment, which has the profundity and greatness that comes from asserting absolute limits to the arrogance of a reason that asserts itself absolutely — this block has the curious weakness that when confronted by superstition: it ceases to function as an authority. (Adorno Kant's Critique of Pure Reason 75) In so far as reason is critical, reason thus is not identical with itself — but more, this residue (to use Adorno's evocative term) withers even more when confronted not only by metaphysics, but also with superstition, the supernatural, with ghosts. In evoking the ghost, theory ignores this block, ultimately mistaking methodology for the noumenal — is this then reason without brakes, leading us in chase of the phantom, or is this the brakes failing, as in Adorno, just when reason needs them most, on the slippery slope of metaphysics? Does reason then really need brakes if those brakes fail precisely when they are most needed, when reason encounters a ghost on the road? Enlightenment needs its negative. This residue is critical because this residue is critique. Reason's critical component puts the brakes on reason, stopping it from extending itself into metaphysics. But this critical block can also melt away; it possesses a "curious weakness" when it faces that which it is in place to resist. When reason sees a ghost, when it is confronted with superstition, with Spirit, it "ceases to function as an authority." Ghosts, spirit, in so far as they have become tropes or figures for thought or linked to scented candles in Chapters, no longer grab our attention. In so far as we watch "Six Feet Under" which in every episode features a ghostly return; in so far as the ghost is summoned to evoke the trauma of its violent origin we are lead out of our experience and into metaphysics — but what kind of experience? Walter Benjamin distinguishes between Erlebnis and Erfahrung, the former referring to the vitality and immediacy of lived experience, while the latter, which "takes time," designates something like the accumulation of knowledge and wisdom through success and failure, particularly through encounters with others — Erfahrung. Can our experience of ghosts, of Geist, be a lived experience, characterized by vitality and immediacy? With ghosts we tarry, not with the negative, but with uncertainty, where every ghost might [end page 233] be one of Kant's "vain phantoms." We find ourselves caught between reason as critical and reason as emancipatory, and thus if there is wisdom to be gained from ghosts it must come from experiences marked by success and failure. We cannot know though if in this case we have met the other precisely because of Adorno's description of Kant's block: there is the possibility of knowledge gained through experience, but this possibility is only a structure of reason itself that can do nothing to validate or deny our ghostly encounters. Not without critique. This is where dialectics come in — but before they do, it's important to claim that for Kant this antinomy is to be dialectically resolved. When reason extends beyond experience and into metaphysics Kant refers to the mistakes that arise as transcendental illusions, whose uncovering entails a transcendental dialectic. So for Kant, the transcendental dialectic will be concerned with the critique of the dialectical illusion and its various effects, a critique based in the transcendental analytic's restriction of the use of concepts. Reason will always try to extend itself into the transcendental realm and must be reigned in — by critical reason. Or perhaps a better way to articulate this might be to describe this antinomy as part of Kant's Platonic revision: of course, in Plato the dialectic does not advance as in Hegel, and the hierarchical structuring of Ideal, real and representation remains forever locked in a mutually antagonistic embrace. But even the process of dialectical thought produces a remainder here, which we can identify with the Kantian 'residue' of critique. It's uncanny the extent to which the dialectical register — littered or haunted with residues and remainders — evokes the manner in which materialist philosophy already accounts for the ghost — but also for Geist and spirit as we shall see; and this is the antithesis of reason's weakening in the face of the supernatural. Adorno writes: ... because of the Kantian block and even more because of this theological idea that reason cannot be asserted absolutely, we see that there is an ultimate barrier which prevents reason, spirit, the very thing that in the final analysis has separated itself off from manual labour, from being asserted in an absolute way. This barrier prevents something which is deeply embedded in nature from behaving as if it were a transcendent category, utterly superior to nature. We may well say that the spirit that forgets that it is rooted in nature, and that consequently truly asserts its own absolute status, is committing an act of hubris that condemns it all the more to fall victim to its own roots in nature. We may say, in other words, that it will be doomed to perpetuate blind natural conditions. (75-6) [end page 234] Reason is here identified with Spirit in their separation from "manual labour," suggesting spirit's aspirations to the status of non-alienated labour. Therefore the Kantian block can be read as symptomatic of the alienation that structures capitalism, as non-alienated reason would not tolerate any limits placed on thought. Such limits demonstrate the extent to which reason must be rooted in the world of concrete experience, lived experience, for which nature here in Adorno acts as a kind of code-word: nature is that upon which reason will take out its frustrations at being held back from propagating transcendental illusions. Spirit now, according to Adorno, is rooted in an alienated and alienating material reality, covered with what he a Horkheimer call the technological veil. The ghost tries to confirm the relations of production — as in, for example, Scooby Doo, where the spook is always ultimately unmasked as the owner of the abandoned carnival or haunted house — isn't the villain always a property developer, looking to make a quick buck by flipping real estate? — "And I would have gotten away with it too, if it weren't for those meddling kids!" To be a meddling kid is to be spirited, to have Spirit in the Romantic Hegelian sense, to challenge authority, whether parental, governmental, economic, literary or philosophical, but also to challenge the alienating material constraints that are part of our experience. And Spirit is also a challenge to reason's indifference or sobriety in the face of the supernatural, as there are spirits — Weingeist — at the bar at the opening of The Phenomenology of Spirit, when Hegel argues that "The true is thus the bacchanalian frenzy, in which no member is sober." Following Hegel, we should also want to distinguish between subjective and objective spirit, with subjective spirit indicating an individual's psychological life, and objective spirit as the common spirit of a social group, embodied in laws, traditions, but also in institutions. Objective spirit should be dialectically related to the individual, as an objectification of subjective geist that proceeds to permeate the constituents of the group. If this seems rather benign, objective spirit is the motor of Adorno and Horkheimer's thesis in Dialectic of Enlightenment: myth becomes enlightenment as enlightenment becomes myth. In the famous "Sirens" episode where Adorno and Horkheimer read the Odyssey, it is objective spirit that gets imposed on the ship's crew as well as on the Sirens (and this last has been too little remarked): Odysseus, the first bourgeois subject, allows himself to be bound so that he may hear the Sirens' song. Thus "rational" Odysseus, at a stroke, separates pleasure from work for his sailors and "sublates" the feminine —— the Sirens become the feminine neutralized and reified as nature, as something to be dominated, while their song has been transformed from desire into art: [end page 235] His comrades, who themselves cannot hear, know only the danger of the song, not of its beauty, and leave him tied to the mast to save both him and themselves. They reproduce the life of the oppressor as a part of their own, while he cannot step outside his social role. The bonds by which he has irrevocably fettered himself to praxis at the same time keep the Sirens at a distance from praxis: their lure is neutralized as a mere object of contemplation, of art. The fettered man listens to a concert, as immobilized as audiences later, and his enthusiastic call for liberation goes unheard as applause. (Dialectic of Enlightenment 26-7) This is "objective spirit," and the beginning of what Adorno will come to call the administered world: the reason that characterizes objective spirit objectifies human relations, naturalizing Odysseus as administrator, the seamen as alienated workers, and the Sirens as the feminine made passive nature and even "art," this last burdened with something like all of Plato's contempt for both women and poetry in the Republic. Their desire and sensuality will henceforth be absorbed into the commodity form. In this sense objective spirit is instrumental reason, allowing for the domination of both workers and nature but also of women as nature. Objective spirit administers — objective spirit takes the fingerprints of that spirit we wish to save: critical spirit. When objective spirit takes the form of politics as in Hegel's Philosophy of Right, we can do no better than to follow Marx: First of all, Hegel calls being a member of the state an abstraction, although according to the idea, [and therefore] the intention of his own doctrinal development, it is the highest and most concrete social determination of the legal person, of the member of the state. To stop at the abstraction of 'being a member of the state' and to conceive of individuals in terms of this abstraction does not therefore seem to be just superficial thinking which clings to abstractions. That the abstraction of 'being a member of the state' is really an abstraction is not, however, the fault of this thinking but of Hegel's line of argument and actual modern conditions, which presuppose the separation of actual life from political life and make the political quality an abstraction of actual participation in the state. (Critique of Hegel's Philosophy of Right 116) It is thus objective spirit which turns those who would want to participate in praxis into abstractions; and more, it renders political life itself abstract and ghostly as it relies on alienation and the division of labour. [end page 236] Meanwhile, subjective spirit finds itself subject to what Adorno describes, in a context we would want to associate with Hegel and Romantic art, as the dialectic of spiritualization: The rationalization of musical production and reproduction, the result of social rationalization, is cloaked in horror as "de-spiritualization," as if it were feared that the irrationality of the social condition which asserts itself despite all "rationalization" had become all too obvious in the light of radical artistic rationality; in so doing, "spirit" is silently equated with the bourgeois independent private person, whose rights one would like to define ideologically with greater clarity the more they are questioned in economic and social terms. ("On the Social Situation of Music" 415) Music can no longer provide a suggestion of Spirit's eventual triumph over materiality because its very production and reproduction finds itself as rationalized as any other commodity. Under such conditions spirit finds itself reduced to the purely private — which is to say, the profoundly ideological, in so far as the subject finds herself attenuated into little more than a point of consumption. But if, as I have said, Adorno's idea of spiritualization is dialectical, we should be able to detect a countervailing current at work. In Adorno's German, "spiritualization" is Vergeistigung, which holds within itself both spirit and reason. This will help us identify with some precision not only his relationship with both Kant and Hegel, but also why the category of the aesthetic might still matter. In so far as Spirit is in and for itself for Hegel, it is intrinsic to the work of art, and not a ghost hovering above it. And in this sense art as the sensuous semblance of the idea functions as a kind of apology for the immediacy of our encounter with aesthetic materiality — this is idealism's attempt to evacuate meaning from the merely sensual and material, to turn it into something else, something ghostly. Dialectically, however, this attempt to render art spirit, utterly spiritual, is thwarted by the extent to which spirit is reason and thus contains within itself the Kantian block, its own critique and its own capacity for critique. In this sense then we might understand modern art as that which insists Hegel's sensuous semblance be repulsive, disgusting, more or other than merely pleasant. Adorno writes, Still, spiritualization cannot free itself of a shadow that demands its critique; the more substantial spiritualization becomes in art, the more energetically — in Benjamin's theory no less than in Beckett's literary practice — did it renounce spirit, the idea.... On the one [end page 237] hand, through the artwork's spiritualization the external must pass by way of spirit and has increasingly become the appearance of the inward. On the other hand, the absorption of resistant material and themes opposes the culinary consumption of art even if, given the general ideological tendency to integrate everything that resists integration, consumption undertakes to swallow everything up whole, however repulsive it might seem. (Aesthetic Theory 92) Hegel says that spirit is a bone; Adorno says art wants us to choke on that bone because art is not a bucket of chicken or a box of chocolates (Belgian or not); art is not a mere commodity, nor bourgeois inwardness, nor is it the merely beautiful any longer. Adorno's dialectic of spiritualization entails and indeed demands the critique of culture through art, which is also the critique of art itself, in so far as art is part of culture. So we are back in the place where art and the commodity come together. Perhaps, then, to conclude by squaring the circle we began at Chapters, I can relay another anecdote about another shopping trip. Value Village, a boutique I'm rather fonder of, at first may (or may not) seem a postmodern analogue to the Arcades of Paris, with the junk shops that attracted both Breton and Benjamin with their uncanny spectacle of the outmoded and old-fashioned, the commodity brutally severed from use-value. Periodically over the in-house audio — which is to say, through technology — a voice that is far too cheery announces "In shopping here you're helping to preserve the labour of thousands of men and women from ending up in the landfill." This anodyne proclamation is in the service of capital to be sure — I'm there shopping, after all — but it's also as if this disembodied ghostly voice, this voice of twenty-first-century capitalism also rematerializes something of another spirit, in the implication that labour might one day be reclaimed and redeemed as easily as I fill up my cart, as easily as it is alienated. Let's give Marx the last word, or almost the last: [In religion] the products of the human brain appear as autonomous figures endowed with a life of their own, which enter into relations with each other and with the human race. So it is in the world of commodities with the products of men's hands. I call this the fetishism which attaches itself to the products of labour as soon as they are produced as commodities, and is therefore inseparable from the production of commodities. (Capital 165) Fetishism and reification result from the occlusion of the fundamentally social character of labour, labour that lives on in the commodity, animating it and from another perspective even haunting it. This spirit, the spirit of [end page 238] alienated labour, spirit as "the very thing that has separated itself off from manual labour," appears to us if it appears at all in the commodity. Too often we fail to recognize it for what it is because of the very nature of the commodity, which seduces us in its seeming integrity, its newness and its self-presentation as a kind of noumenon that nonetheless needs us. The fingerprint of spirit is not then just part of the disciplinary apparatus of the administered world, not just the fingerprinting of spirit, but also the trace of alienated labour that marks the commodity and inheres in it. When we, if we note this fingerprint of spirit, this trace, we can only think of it as a mark of something used or shop-worn. If the ghost is now part of theory, then that ghost is above all the sign of the material and alienated labour that has been rendered immaterial by the commodity form. This oscillation, whereby material labour is dematerialized to be rematerialized in and as the commodity, cannot be tracked by appeals to reason, to metaphysics, to phenomenology, to deconstruction. Nor can it — yet — be understood in dialectical terms as aspiring to the Absolute. Through our intellectual labour, which we have the privilege to call non-alienated, let's transform one spirit, whether religious, objective, administering, fetishistic or merely ghostly, into a challenge to reason and to the world, into a spirit that is critical: into a revolutionary spirit. References Adorno, Theodor W., Aesthetic Theory. Trans. Robert Hullot-Kentor. Minneapolis: U of Minnesota P, 1997 ___, "On the Social Situation of Music." In Essays on Music. Trans. Susan H. Gillespie. Ed. Richard D. Leppert. Berkeley: U of California P, 2002: 391-436 ___, Kant's Critique of Pure Reason. Trans. Rodney Livingstone. Ed. Rolf Tiedemann. Stanford: Stanford UP, 2001 Hegel, G.W.F., Aesthetics: Lectures on Fine Art. 2 vols. Trans. T.M. Knox. Vol. 1. Oxford: Clarendon P, 1975 ___, Hegel's Science of Logic. Trans. A.V. Miller. Atlantic Highlands, NJ: Humanities Press International, 1989 Horkheimer, Max & Theodor W. Adorno, Dialectic of Enlightenment. Trans. Edmund Jephcott. Ed. Gunzelin Schmid Noerr. Stanford: Stanford UP, 2002 Jameson, Fredric, "Marx's Purloined Letter." In Ghostly Demarcations: A symposium on Jacques Derrida's Specters of Marx. Ed. Michael Sprinker. London: Verso, 1999: 26-67 [end page 239] ___, A Singular Modernity: An essay on the ontology of the present. New York: Verso, 2002 Kant, Immanuel, Critique of Pure Reason. Trans. Vasilis Politis. London: J. M. Dent, 1993 Macherey, Pierre, "Marx Dematerialized, or The Spirit of Derrida." In Ghostly Demarcations: A symposium on Jacques Derrida's Specters of Marx. Ed. Michael Sprinker. London: Verso, 1999: 17-25 Marx, Karl, Capital: A Critique of Political Economy. 3 vols. Trans. Ben Fowkes. Vol. 1. Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1976 ___, Critique of Hegel's Philosophy of Right. Trans. Annette Jolin and Joseph O'Malley. Ed. and intro. Joseph O'Malley. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1970
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