Deconstructing the Death Penalty: Derrida's Seminars and the New Abolitionism

DECONSTRUCTING THE DEATH PENALTY

Deconstructing the Death Penalty

DERRIDA’S SEMINARS AND THE NEW ABOLITIONISM

KELLY OLIVER and STEPHANIE M. STRAUB

Editors

FORDHAM  UNIVERSITY  PRESS

New York 2018

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Oliver, Kelly, 1958– editor.

Title: Deconstructing the death penalty : Derrida’s seminars and the new abolitionism / Kelly Oliver and Stephanie M. Straub, editors.

Description: First edition. | New York, NY : Fordham University Press, 2018. | Includes bibliographical references and index.

Identifiers: LCCN 2017054130 | ISBN 9780823280100 (cloth : alk. paper) | ISBN 9780823280117 (pbk : alk. paper)

Subjects: LCSH: Derrida, Jacques. | Capital punishment—Philosophy. | Capital punishment—Moral and ethical aspects. | Imprisonment—Moral and ethical aspects. | Power (Social sciences)

Classification: LCC HV8698 .D435 2018 | DDC 364.6601—dc23

LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017054130

CONTENTS

Introduction. From Capital Punishment to Abolitionism: Deconstructing the Death Penalty

STEPHANIE M. STRAUB

Part I  READING DERRIDA’S DEATH PENALTY SEMINARS

1. Beginning with Literature

PEGGY KAMUF

2. A New Primal Scene: Derrida and the Scene of Execution

ELIZABETH ROTTENBERG

3. Always the Other Who Decides: On Sovereignty, Psychoanalysis, and the Death Penalty

MICHAEL NAAS

4. The Death Penalty and Its Exceptions

CHRISTINA HOWELLS

Part II  DERRIDA AND HIS INTERLOCUTERS

5. Derrida at Montaigne: A Stay of Execution

KATIE CHENOWETH

6. Bidding Up on the Question of Sovereignty: Derrida between Kant and Benjamin

KIR KUIKEN

7. Calculus

KAS SAGHAFI

Part III  EXTENDING DERRIDA’S ANALYSIS

8. A Proper Death: Penalties, Animals, and the Law

NICOLE ANDERSON

9. Figures of Interest: The Widow, the Telephone, and the Time of Death

ELISSA MARDER

10. Opening the Blinds on Botched Executions: Interrupting the Time of the Death Penalty

KELLY OLIVER

Part IV  DERRIDA AND CAPITAL PUNISHMENT IN THE UNITED STATES

11. Furman and Finitude

ADAM THURSCHWELL

12. The Heart of the Other?

SARAH TYSON

13. An Abolitionism Worthy of the Name: From the Death Penalty to the Prison Industrial Complex

LISA GUENTHER

List of Contributors

Index

INTRODUCTION

From Capital Punishment to Abolitionism: Deconstructing the Death Penalty

Stephanie M. Straub

On December 8, 2016, exactly one month after Donald Trump had been elected president of the United States, Ronald B. Smith was put to death in the state of Alabama after a deadlocked Supreme Court refused to grant a stay of execution in his case.¹ After being administered a lethal dose of potassium chloride, Smith reportedly began coughing, heaving, and clenching his fists for thirteen minutes, finally dying at 11:05 P.M.²

When I first began writing this introduction, I had hoped that capital punishment might be abolished in the United States in the near future. At that time, it may have seemed strange to revisit a series of lectures on capital punishment from 1999, given the dramatic changes that had occurred in the American abolitionist movement, critical legal scholarship, and philosophical work on sovereign power. Today, however, the urgency of this volume is, unfortunately, all too clear. The current chief executive of the United States has signaled his extreme support of the death penalty, once going so far as to take out a full-page ad in the New York Times and three other newspapers advocating for the execution of five young black men accused (wrongly) of assaulting and raping a white woman jogging through Central Park.³ Indeed, Donald Trump’s intervention in the case of the so-called Central Park Five marks a pivotal moment in his rise to power, perfectly encapsulating the racially charged authoritarian rhetoric that has become the defining characteristic of his political career. In his theatrical displays of power, his massive rallies (that have continued well past the conclusion of the 2016 presidential campaign), and his claim to singularly represent the voice of the people of the United States, Trump has undoubtedly become the terrifying new face of sovereign power.

The present volume, then, is sadly timely, especially given the radical nature of Derrida’s abolitionism. Although the Death Penalty Seminars focus very specifically on the issue of capital punishment, Derrida’s deconstruction of the theologico-political logic of sovereignty interrogates, at its most basic level, the authority that the state holds over life and death. While Foucault argues that the contemporary death penalty is the result of a shift from traditional forms of sovereign power to new forms of regulatory power, Derrida’s investigation probes the continuing influence of older models of sovereignty that continue to shape contemporary justifications for the most extreme applications of state power.⁴ However, Derrida also extends his analysis beyond the criminal justice system, turning his critical eye toward abolitionist discourses. Ultimately, in dismantling the logic of abolitionism, Derrida hopes to formulate a new form of abolitionism, one that would not rely upon problematic theologico-political structures. Even as he gestures toward this new form of abolitionism, however, Derrida cautions that the end of capital punishment will not be the end of the death penalty. Its logic, he warns, will live on in augmented forms and will continue to claim lives.⁵ This new abolitionism, then, will have to adapt to the shifting forms the death penalty takes and to the constantly evolving forms of sovereign power.

Admittedly, the American abolitionist movement has evolved dramatically in the sixteen years since Derrida first issued his call to end capital punishment. Activist scholars have increasingly asserted the necessity of radically reforming the entire U.S. criminal justice system, transforming the discourse around capital punishment such that it is now impossible to address abolition in an American context without also confronting the stark realities of racial inequality and mass incarceration. Just two years after the conclusion of the Death Penalty Seminars, Angela Y. Davis published Are Prisons Obsolete? (2004), highlighting racial disparities in American policing and challenging social justice advocates to question the very practice of incarceration.⁶ Following in Davis’s footsteps, Michelle Alexander argues that the mass incarceration of black men has effectively replaced the Jim Crow laws, serving as a legal framework to deny African Americans the basic rights of citizenship.⁷ More recently, many others have examined the deeply interconnected relationship between the prison-industrial complex and the practice of capital punishment, drawing on the work of philosophers, activists, and intellectuals from an incredibly diverse array of backgrounds and disciplines.⁸ To prison abolition advocates, then, Derrida’s prolonged investigation into the discourses surrounding capital punishment may seem strangely limited in its scope. And, of course, following the extra-legal but state-sanctioned murders of Trayvon Martin, Eric Garner, Michael Brown, Tamir Rice, Aiyana Stanley-Jones, Alton Sterling, Freddie Gray, Laquan McDonald, and countless others—far, far too many others to name here—it is impossible to ignore the fact that capital punishment is not the only means of execution in the United States. In targeting the logic rather than the practice of capital punishment, however, Derrida issues a radical challenge to the theologico-political state itself. Indeed, the Death Penalty Seminars both set up and foreshadow Derrida’s extensive critique of sovereign power in his final seminars, The Beast and the Sovereign.

The present volume, then, represents an interdisciplinary effort to continue Derrida’s work and to begin to articulate what that new abolitionism might look like. These essays place Derrida’s arguments against capital punishment in dialogue with contemporary intellectual debates about mass incarceration, sovereign power, and the human-animal divide, widening the scope of Derridean abolitionism far beyond the practice of capital punishment. Drawing upon the insight from the fields of philosophy, law, psychoanalysis, political theory, feminist theory, religious studies, and posthumanism, our contributors work to mobilize Derrida’s abolitionism against the ever-evolving logic of sovereignty. Admittedly, this volume will likely chiefly be of interest to Derrideans; however, it is our hope that Derrida’s abolitionism will prove adaptable enough to serve an extensive range of activists and scholars. By dismantling the theologico-political framework that undergirds not only the death penalty but all forms of state-sanctioned violence, we aim to formulate a versatile form of abolitionism—a methodological framework for confronting not only the death penalty as we now know it but mass incarceration, police brutality, and all the death penalties still to come.

Part I, Reading Derrida’s Death Penalty Seminars, provides a comprehensive introduction to Derridean abolitionism. The authors of these essays—among whom we are lucky to count the translators of both volumes of the Death Penalty Seminars—effectively explain and expand upon Derrida’s key interventions: his unconventional deployment of literature, his psychoanalytic framework, and his understanding of the exceptional nature of capital punishment. In her essay, Peggy Kamuf examines Derrida’s unusual decision to begin his critique of the death penalty with literature rather than philosophy. Kamuf emphasizes that literature does not claim to represent absolute truth—instead, literature demands for itself the right to say anything and everything. In her reading of Jean Genet, whose work features prominently in the Death Penalty Seminars, Kamuf argues that literature serves as a desacralized form of heresy. Literature can thus speak back to sovereign power; simultaneously, by presenting their work as fiction, modern authors can protect themselves from the fates of previous heretics. In its absolute right to speech, literature has the capacity to give voice to alternative voices and alternative forms of reason. It is in fact literature’s fundamental ambiguity, she suggests, that allows for the creation of a space outside of sovereign power.

Elizabeth Rottenberg offers a psychoanalytic perspective on the theatrical nature of the contemporary death penalty. While Foucault claims in Discipline and Punish that the death penalty ceased to be a public spectacle at the beginning of the nineteenth century, Derrida argues that the modern death penalty remains visible through film and television—that is, the death penalty remains visible by becoming virtual.⁹ Rottenberg’s essay navigates both Derrida’s and Foucault’s claims, taking up the phantasmatic scene of execution or Derrida’s virtual scene as imagined by Foucault’s self-surveilling subject. This phantasmatic scene, she argues, is fundamentally a dream of mastery over death. In her concluding thoughts, Rottenberg pauses to consider the deconstruction itself as just such a fantasy of mastery, a fantasy that Derrida carefully endeavors to resist.

Although Derrida makes relatively few explicit references to psychoanalysis in The Death Penalty volume 1, Michael Naas argues that Derrida’s deconstruction of sovereignty relies primarily on psychoanalytic discourse. Like Kamuf, Naas privileges ambiguity and multiplicity, noting that sovereign power operates largely by creating the illusion of decision between two absolutely and fundamentally opposed possibilities. Throughout the Death Penalty Seminars, Naas notes, Derrida works to dismantle binary oppositions. In Derrida’s deconstructions of the binary logic of sovereign power, however, Naas detects not the influence of literature but the legacy of psychoanalysis. Ultimately, Naas argues, Derrida’s very understanding of sovereign power derives from Freud’s formulation of the Ur-Father. Sovereignty, according to Derrida’s psychoanalytic framework, ultimately precedes binary oppositions—even those between human and animal, man and god—and the sovereign decision must always take the form of indecision.

The role of sovereign decision and indecision takes on central importance in this section’s final essay, Christina Howells’s The Death Penalty and Its Exceptions. While advocates for and against the death penalty must recognize exceptions to their arguments, Howells argues that the death penalty itself ostensibly represents the ultimate exception to the normal operation of law—the moment when the state puts one of its own citizens to death. Howells deftly moves between these two senses of the exception, but her main objective is to interrogate the nature of the exception itself. In its ostensibly exceptional nature, the death penalty reveals the hidden perversity of sovereign power, suggesting that the exception may in fact be paradigmatic of the law. Howells ultimately concludes that the exception reveals sovereign power’s fundamental illegitimacy.

In Part II, Derrida and His Interlocutors, Katie Chenoweth, Kir Kuiken, and Kas Saghafi situate Derrida’s arguments in context alongside other prominent voices in the Western philosophical canon. In this section’s opening essay, Chenoweth attempts to locate Derrida’s new abolitionism in the work of Michel de Montaigne. Montaigne, Chenoweth insists, may provide a key for understanding the Death Penalty Seminars. Though Montaigne’s essays predate debates over the ethics of the death penalty, Chenoweth detects in his description of the trial of Martin Guerre a nascent abolitionism, an abolitionism to come. Montaigne’s abolitionism, she argues, though not yet fully developed—or perhaps because not fully developed—may serve as a model for Derrida’s own always embryonic abolitionism, an abolitionism always still to come.

In his essay  ‘Bidding Up’ on the Question of Sovereignty: Derrida between Kant and Benjamin, Kir Kuiken analyzes the escalating logic of "surenchère, outbidding or bidding up." Because the death penalty is a punishment that exceeds any crime and that exceeds the bounds of all legal systems, this logic of excess underlies both pro- and antideath penalty discourses. Notably, the logic of surenchère has been mobilized by both Immanuel Kant in his Metaphysics of Morals and Walter Benjamin in his Critique of Violence. In the Death Penalty Seminars, Derrida suggests Kant and Benjamin understand capital punishment in radically different ways, yet each of their formulations of the death penalty relies upon the same underlying logic. However, Kuiken himself suggests that in his analysis of Kant and Benjamin, Derrida himself is attempting to formulate his own alternative logic of surenchère, a logic that might be repurposed to destabilize the underlying structures of sovereign power.

For his part, Saghafi conceives of both capital punishment specifically and criminal law generally as forms of accounting. Drawing on Heidegger’s lecture course On the Principle of Ground, Saghafi argues that reason as calculation provides the foundation for judicial law. The death penalty, according to this logic, serves both to dole out punishment in recompense for crimes committed and to ensure the safety of the population as a whole, becoming, effectively, a perverse form of life insurance. However, Saghafi argues that calculation is always an unstable foundation, as calculation must always reckon with at least the specter of the incalculable. By incalculable Saghafi does not mean that which cannot be measured but that which exceeds our capacity for measurement. The death penalty, in his reading, always miscalculates because it represents the law’s attempt to account for that which exceeds all calculation.

In Part III, Extending Derrida’s Analysis, Nicole Anderson, Elissa Marder, and Kelly Oliver build upon Derrida’s formulation of trial and execution as spectacles of sovereign power. In her examination of the curious practice of medieval animal trials, Anderson argues that both pro- and antiabolitionist discourses implicitly rely on a humanist framework that draws a sharp distinction between human lives and animal lives. While Enlightenment writers, most notably Immanuel Kant, traditionally conceptualize the death penalty as a punishment that can only be applied to moral subjects—that is, human beings—Anderson offers a counter-history of capital punishment that undermines the division between humans and animals. Contra Kant, she suggests that the death penalty has been used to blur the boundary between human and animal, paradoxically both reducing condemned persons to the status of beasts and elevating condemned animals to that of human beings. Following the peculiar logic of capital punishment, Anderson argues that the contemporary humane death penalty represents an attempt to reinforce the human-animal divide, distancing us from our animality. Her essay issues a challenge to readers to abolish the death penalty and to assume responsibility for life in all of its vast multiplicity of forms.

While the majority of the essays in this volume treat the public execution as a testament to the power of the sovereign, Oliver instead examines the botched execution as a failed spectacle, one that reveals the fundamental cruelty of the state. Lethal injection, Oliver notes, began as an attempt to render the death penalty humane by making death instantaneous. The botched execution, she argues interrupts fantasies of the painless death by making the process of dying visible and measurable in real time. Oliver’s essay consists chiefly of an extended reading of Derrida’s use of the image of Christ’s bandages. In his reading of the gospel of John, Derrida focuses particularly on the moment when Mary Magdalene discovers Christ’s bandages, lying discarded by the tomb, stripped from the vanished body. For Oliver, this moment, both within the gospel story and within the seminars themselves, interrupts the ordinary flow of time and conjures an alternative temporality. This interruption, she suggests, is crucial to the way in which Derrida performatively constructs his argument. Derrida’s goal, she suggests, is to disrupt the fantasy of instantaneous death and to dwell in that moment outside and in between time, a moment of indecision, hovering between life and death.

In this section’s conclusion, Marder directly addresses the importance of the visibility of the scene of execution. While capital punishment is ostensibly no longer a public spectacle, Marder argues that all executions—even those that occur within the unseen spaces of prison chambers—are necessarily public acts, taking place for the sake of the public and within the public sphere. Marder’s chief concern, however, is with the actual machinery of death. Curiously, Derrida notes that death machines are typically feminized, but he demurs from offering any discussion of this phenomenon, aside from an oblique reference to psychoanalysis as a discourse that might be able to account for the sexualization of the death machine. Marder’s analysis begins where Derrida’s stops short, offering a psychoanalytic reading of the guillotine as a feminized death machine, a device whose labor produces death. Her essay ends with a brief discussion of the telephone as a new, distinctly American, figure of maternal death, an umbilical cord that links the sovereign to the scene of execution.

This collection’s final section, Derrida and Capital Punishment in the United States, addresses the particular importance of the Death Penalty Seminars in the contemporary American context. In his essay, "Furman and Finitude," Adam Thurschwell uses U.S. Supreme Court jurisprudence to expand and complicate Derrida’s arguments against the death penalty. Thurschwell notes key errors in Derrida’s readings of the 1972 Furman v. Georgia case (which temporarily ended capital punishment in the United States) and the 1976 Gregg v. Georgia case (which reinstated the practice). Rather than excoriating Derrida for these errors, however, Thurschwell seizes upon this moment to extend Derrida’s analysis. Through his reading of the opposing opinions of Justices Harry Blackmun and Antonin Scalia from the 1994 Callins v. Collins case, Thurschwell argues that both pro- and antiabolitionist death penalty jurisprudence recognizes internal contradictions within the requirements for the application of the death penalty in the United States.

Sarah Tyson turns her critical eye toward the practice of mass incarceration. Her essay, The Heart of the Other?, argues that sentences of life without parole (LWOP), often treated as humane alternatives to the death penalty, essentially constitute social death and would allow for the continuation of an alternative death penalty after the abolition of capital punishment. While Derrida’s analysis proves useful to Tyson in arguing against LWOP, she nonetheless expresses skepticism toward his investment in the possibility of mutual recognition. In light of the racial disparities in both mass incarceration and in the application of state-sanctioned violence, Tyson argues that the lives of some are effectively built upon the social death of the Other. Tyson identifies #BlackLivesMatter particularly as a contemporary form of abolitionism that highlights the failure of the recognition that Derrida calls for. Her essay serves as a welcome reminder that abolitionism must remain as adaptive and dynamic as the violence that it would address.

In the section’s final essay, Lisa Guenther offers perhaps this volume’s most complete formulation of a new abolitionism—in her parlance, An Abolitionism Worthy of the Name. Guenther places Derrida in conversation with critical race theory and with the work of incarcerated intellectual Mumia Abu-Jamal to argue that racism is, in fact, inseparable from the logic of the death penalty. She persuasively argues that any effective form of abolitionism must move beyond the death penalty to deconstruct the ideology of white supremacy itself. In the final pages of her essay, Guenther turns to the prison abolition movement as an example of such an antiracist abolitionism.

Collectively, these essays speak to the uniqueness of Derrida’s abolitionism. Although Derrida dismantles traditional arguments against the death penalty, he offers in their place the possibility of new forms of opposition, based on a shared sense of vulnerability and a recognition of the fundamental illegitimacy of sovereign power. Ultimately, the Death Penalty Seminars do not offer not a fully formed philosophical argument against the practice of capital punishment; rather, they lay the groundwork for future critiques of any and all forms of state-sanctioned killing. Indeed, through his turn to literature and his appeals to his audience’s self-interest, Derrida suggests that any exclusively philosophical arguments against the death penalty are inadequate. He thus issues a call for an abolitionism based not on any kind of theologico-political foundation but upon the realities of embodied experience and the universality of death. In this volume, we have attempted to answer that call and to begin to build upon Derrida’s foundation. It is our hope that these essays will inspire further dialogue, as scholars and activists continue Derrida’s search for new ways of speaking back to sovereign power and confronting the death penalty in any form it may take.

NOTES

1. Adam Liptak, Alabama Inmate Executed after Supreme Court Refuses a Stay, New York Times, December 8, 2016, https://www.nytimes.com/2016/12/08/us/politics/alabama-ronald-bert-smith-execution-supreme-court.html.

2. Smith had previously challenged Alabama’s use of the sedative midazolam in court, citing its role in several botched executions. The court upheld states’ right to use midazolam in lethal injections in 2015. See Adam Liptak, Supreme Court Allows Use of Execution Drug, New York Times, June 29, 2015. Arizona, Florida, Oklahoma, and Ohio initially turned to midazolam after pharmaceutical manufacturers refused to supply them with thiopental, the sedative previously used in the three-drug execution protocol. For more information on pharmaceutical manufacturers’ efforts to prevent the use of their products in lethal injections, see Ty Alper, The United States Execution Drug Shortage: A Consequence of Our Values, Brown Journal of World Affairs 21, no. 1 (2014): 27–39.

3. Ronald Smith Heaves and Coughs during Alabama Execution after Tie Vote in Supreme Court Denies Him a Stay, Death Penalty Information Center, https://deathpenaltyinfo.org/node/6623.

4. For Foucault’s account of the origins of regulatory power, see Society Must Be Defended: Lectures at the Collège de France, 1975–76, ed. Mauro Bertani and Alessandro Fontana, trans. David Macey (New York: Picador, 2003). Foucault also notes that the modern death penalty ceases to be a public spectacle in Discipline and Punish. See Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison, trans. Alan Sheridan (New York: Vintage, 1995).

5. Jacques Derrida, The Death Penalty, vol. 1, trans. Peggy Kamuf (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2014), 282–83.

6. Angela Y. Davis, Are Prisons Obsolete? (New York: Seven Stories, 2003).

7. Michelle Alexander, The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness (New York: The New Press, 2012).

8. Geoffrey Adelsberg, Lisa Guenther, and Scott Zeman, eds., Death and Other Penalties: Philosophy in a Time of Mass Incarceration (New York: Fordham University Press, 2015).

9. Foucault, Discipline and Punish, 14; Jacques Derrida, For What Tomorrow . . . : A Dialogue, interview with Elizabeth Roudinesco (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 2004), 159.

PART I

Reading Derrida’s Death Penalty Seminars

CHAPTER 1

Beginning with Literature

Peggy Kamuf

Why, on the death penalty, begin with literature? asks Jacques Derrida early in the first year of his seminar on the death penalty.¹ The very formulation of the question implies this is such a surprising place to begin that it demands some explanation. Why, indeed, speak of literature just as one is beginning to address the life-and-death issue of capital punishment? Especially if, as he remarks elsewhere, one must profess oneself dumbstruck, stupefied, by the fact that "never, to my knowledge, has any philosopher, as such, in his properly philosophical discourse, never has any philosophy as such contested the legitimacy of the death penalty.² This stupefying fact (he calls it for me the most significant and the most stupefying—also the most stupefied—fact in the history of Western philosophy) should be a goad to undertake what to my knowledge" no other philosopher in the tradition has done: contest the legitimacy of the death penalty with the means of properly philosophical discourse. To be sure, the effects of this goad are sensible in the seminar, in particular when Derrida goes head to head with Kant, who is positioned as the tradition’s most rigorous defender of the death penalty. But even these direct confrontations with Kant’s argument are relatively brief compared to the long passages devoted to close readings of texts by Victor Hugo, Maurice Blanchot, Albert Camus, Jean Genet, or even Robert Badinter, lawyer and author of The Execution (1973), a first-person narrative account of the author’s unsuccessful defense of a famous capital case in France in the early 1970s. Of these, Hugo and Camus are widely known as vigorous and tireless opponents of the death penalty, whereas Badinter will long be remembered for his efforts to abolish the death penalty in France, which was accomplished while he was minister of justice in 1981.³ Thus, although not one philosopher in the tradition is on record qua philosopher arguing against capital punishment, for at least two centuries writers and poets (and not only French ones, of course!) have taken strong public stands in favor of its abolition (in which, again, they were hardly alone) and given us literary works able to work against the death penalty.

Now, in light of this stark contrast, Derrida’s question—Why, on the death penalty, begin with literature?—starts to seem rather less surprising than at first blush. And indeed, after posing the question, he will proceed to remind us of the abolitionist strain in modern literary discourse. But he does so by way of posing a certain hypothesis, which, he writes, in its main features would come down to this: "The short, strict, and modern history of the institution named literature in Europe over the last three or four centuries is contemporary with and indissociable from a contestation of the death penalty, an abolitionist struggle that, to be sure, is uneven, heterogeneous, discontinuous, but irreversible and tending toward the worldwide as conjoined history, once again, of literature and rights, and of the right to literature."⁴

I stress in particular two points from this quotation in order to bring out the key articulations of this hypothesis, the points that most need to be tested or argued. First, there is the idea that the modern institution of literature is not just contemporary with but indissociable from the struggle for abolition of the death penalty. In other words, the contemporaneousness of these two historical currents is not contingent but expresses some necessary relation. But what is that relation? The second phrase I will stress, the right to literature, points the way toward an answer to that question.

Although this phrase is going to recur twice more in the course of these lectures (on pages 108 and 117), it is not in The Death Penalty seminar that Derrida explains how he understands it. For that, one may turn to an essay from 1993 where he spells out this right in terms that echo closely the passage just quoted from the seminar.

I have often found myself insisting on the necessity of distinguishing between literature and belles-lettres or poetry. Literature is a modern invention, inscribed in conventions and institutions that, to retain only this trait, secure in principle its right to say everything. Literature thus ties its destiny to a certain noncensure, to the space of democratic freedom (freedom of the press, freedom of speech, etc.). No democracy without literature; no literature without democracy. One can always want neither one nor the other, and there is no shortage of doing without them under all regimes; it is quite possible to consider neither of them to be unconditional goods and indispensable rights. But in no case can one dissociate one from the other.⁵

Manifestly, the indissociable relation posed here between literature (in the modern sense) and democracy accounts for the claim in the seminar that, as we just read, "the institution named literature in Europe over the last three or four centuries is contemporary with and indissociable from a contestation of the death penalty. Moreover, by glossing the right to literature as the right to say anything (le droit de tout dire), Derrida in effect prepares his later claim. But how so? How is the right to say everything" necessarily associated with opposition to the death penalty?

First, it must be remarked that this right (to say everything) is not someone’s right, but the right of literature as literature in the modern sense. Even though someone exercises it (for example, an author), it is nevertheless not an individual’s right, the way the right to vote or freely assemble are individual rights upheld (at least in principle) in a democratic polity. To be sure, this makes the right to literature rather anomalous, but it is just this anomaly that is recognized and protected by democratic codes of law. It is recognized and protected by, for example, boilerplate language printed on copyright pages of books that call themselves novels, novellas, short stories, or, more generally, fictions:⁶ for example, This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.⁷ As we know, such statements function formally and publicly to disclaim responsibility to tell the truth in the work in question. More broadly speaking, however, they invoke literature or fiction as a right of nonresponse.

Which brings us to a second remark about this right to say everything. It is also the right to say nothing, or rather the right and even the obligation not to respond to a demand to know, to divulge the hidden or inapparent, to make public what is secret. In the pages we are reading from On the Name, Derrida calls this the right to secrecy and acknowledges that only with literature does one encounter something resembling unconditional respect of secrets. Morality, religion, politics, law, as well as all disciplines of knowledge and technology are constituted as authorities entitled to demand accounts and responses of whichever responsible subjects fall under their purview. Literary fictions, by contrast, figure a space of nonresponse to the demand to know and therefore a reserve of unconditional secrecy. To be sure, writers are sometimes deluded into believing they know and can therefore divulge secrets of their characters or the events that happen in their fictional worlds. Yet, even then, they are constrained by the radical dissociation between author and character merely to invent more fiction when pressed to do so—for example, during Sunday morning radio interviews.

To illustrate this right to nonresponse that literary fiction arrogates to itself and that, in a democracy, must be protected, one might recall another text of Derrida’s in which he reads and interprets in a nearly exhaustive manner a short prose poem