For over a decade now, I’ve been wondering: What to do? Is there anything to be done at all? All those years — am I really just going to let it slip by? It’s been so long that the futurity of the expression “to do” has even come to sound somewhat silly, because there couldn’t possibly be any future for this, whatever this is. But, to my epiphanic satisfaction, I’ve been what might be called young and stupid. There’s no future for this at all, because the future was never at issue in the first place: it began well in the past, before — well, everything.
I didn’t quite get along with some of my teachers in high school. They just were that sort of people. I’ll give an example. One doctrine they preached was something like the following: the various ways in which teenage girls, and perhaps women in general, perform their gender, for instance, by growing out nails, wearing nail polishes, and so on, only serve to commodify their bodies — and, this is very crucial, commodification is the only thing they do — and therefore, these girls must be stopped at all costs from doing these things. But this is just one of the better sounding narratives an otherwise very beloved vice-principal once deigned to announce in the middle of a class (for how could there be even any need for justification?). All you need to know is that they just thought it was too “slutty.” They would go around from classroom to classroom with nail-clippers, to clip as many of our nails as possible, especially before Durga Pujo in the Fall, when there would actually be an explicit craze to get our nails done, among other “beautifications.” (Sajgoj doesn’t translate.)
But this is not exactly — or only — why I didn’t get along with them. There were other reasons, such as, asking why I should have to pee during the lunch break even if I don’t need to pee because, in the class right after that, I may not be allowed to go pee because the teacher might be surprised as to why I didn’t pee during the lunch break even though I didn’t need to pee, simply because there was time and if I had, then she would not have had to cash some freedom from her personal bank account and give it to me, so I could now go pee, only when I needed to.
But these stories are not the point of what I wanted to say; all of this is to just establish a background. They snarled, I snarled back; sometimes I out-snarled them, sometimes I didn’t. End of story. And, of course, “Not all of them were like that!” But I’m not feeling obligated to acknowledge the very normal, unsurprising presence of very normal, unsurprising people who, very normally and unsurprisingly, didn’t feel that our freedom was deposited to their personal bank accounts. The point of today is the way I have felt about the “non-normal,” “surprising” ones since.
Having been told by some people for such a long time that they just had the right to do certain things to my body without my consent, obviously — and I say “obviously” to emphatically signal that if you don’t find the adverb appropriate here, then I don’t know how to talk to you and figuring that out would be a separate project that I can’t possibly take up here, but I hope you’ll stick around until the end because maybe you recognize something here, either in terms you favor or in ones you don’t — obviously, I’ve wanted “revenge.” I’ve imagined so many ways I could get this “revenge.” They mostly involved imaginary loud quarrels. For some reason I don’t fully understand, I never relished the thought of physically harming them. Not because I’ve ever been known for my magnanimity, but because aggression just felt too quiet. And I didn’t want my “revenge” to be so quiet. Self-forming drives can’t be avenged so meekly.
The story I want to tell here now is how I got my “revenge” for all of this. This is a story worth telling because I was able to get my “revenge” only due to the nature of this “revenge” that I got. I said before it would have to be an “impossible revenge” because I meant that there’s no way for me now to exact this “revenge” at this stage of my life. But I now want it to mean that it is an “impossible revenge” in the sense that I did in fact get my “revenge,” but the way I did defied all physical rules of space and time. Because I’ve been getting my “revenge” since the day I was born, way before I met any of those tormentors, and I’ll continue getting my “revenge” until the day the last one of them dies. I really want to explain this “revenge,” because I want more people to know that “revenge” like this is possible and more than worth it, and I want everyone to enjoy “revenge” like this.
I want to begin by pondering the word “impossible.” As a working definition, let’s say it means, “beyond or outside of what is possible.” Now: what is it that makes talking about possibility possible? For instance, how is it that, every morning, the possibility of my getting out of bed and then brushing my teeth becomes conceivable — or, rather, enters the space of my various possible futures? What are the necessary conditions for this possibility to emerge? A reasonable answer is: the existence of my body, its health and well-being, and its ability to respond to various cues, like the sound of my alarm, the desire to have my dental hygienist do as little pricking inside my mouth as possible when I visit her next time, the desire to watch the next episodes of the Star Jalsha soap operas on Hulu while having tea, and so on. If this embodied frame didn’t exist, my day wouldn’t begin. Therefore, this preexisting structure — the ensemble of my body, its sensory-motor functions, and my environment — is what allows the possibility of my day to emerge. Without this structure — this frame, let’s say — everything would be impossible. And this is the case for all possibilities: they all emerge from a frame, which usually involves various rules, systems, constraints, codes, dependencies, binds, et cetera.
In other words, the origin of all possibility is these particles of impossibility. If I were not unable to behave truly erratically, inconsistently with the various physical cues I received through my body, then my response to my alarm, my desire to feel less uneasiness in my mouth in a few months from now and to watch soap operas while drinking tea wouldn’t be generated, and the possibility of my day would disappear. Therefore, this possibility of my day is thinkable only against the frame that makes certain things impossible, such as, me never being affected by any cue I receive. No other logical state of things is imaginable.
This means that, when I’m talking about “revenge” and what “revenge” is possible (or impossible) there must be a frame against which I’m able to ask these questions, even though I’m not explicitly thinking about it. Now, at this point I’m not sure what this “revenge” is or could be. Whatever it is, we can all agree that it begins with the desire to get it and I obviously have this desire. This desire is the only thing that’s concrete and that I can be sure about and think about; so let’s think about this desire to get “revenge,” before we get to the “revenge” itself.
We’ll ask similar questions, like we did before: what are the conditions of emergence of this desire? What is the frame that provides the necessary points of impossibility from which the possibility of this desire can emerge? In our toy situation, we identified the concrete frame of my body. In this case, we’ll go one step further, and identify a more abstract frame. What could this frame be?
In our toy situation, again, the stream of impossibility that emerged from bodily constraints and various interdependencies that exist between the body and its surroundings. Similarly, we could say that, in the case of my “revenge,” the stream of impossibility emerges from the constraint on the length and appearance (the scientific term being “sluttiness”) of nails, for instance. Therefore, this constraint — in fact, the admission of this constraint — constitutes the frame we’re looking for. That is, my desire for — and, therefore, the possibility of — “revenge” arises from having been subjected to this constraint, just as the possibility of my day emerges from the constraints inherent in my bodily frame.
So far, we’ve been comparing the two cases as if they were truly comparable. But they’re not entirely so. The frame of my body in the toy situation and the frame of constraints on nails act as structurally equivalent in the analogy, just as the desire to continue my day in the former and my desire to exact “revenge” in the latter are also structural equivalents of each other. The crucial difference between the two situations, I’m going to simply observe, lies in the nature of the two desires. In the first case, it’s a desire to continue the existing frame, so that further possibilities become possible. In the second case, it’s a desire to discontinue the existing frame in favor of another — basically one out of which a similar desire for discontinuation hopefully won’t arise; instead the desire that will arise will be more like the desire to start my day, by prolonging the constraints of and on my body; and even if such a desire arises out of that other frame, the frame itself will have embedded in it ways to resolve that desire. The frame made up by the constraints on nails is not such a frame. This frame has no element in it that can resolve a desire to “discontinue without discontinuing”: if it makes room for “sluttier” nails, the frame falls apart, simply because it’s violated. But observe that the frame that makes the emergence of my day possible has in it elements that can resolve my desire to wake up and then keep living: I can wake up, do my usual morning routine, then feed myself, become refreshed, then get tired again at the end of the day, and fall asleep, thus continually producing and reproducing my bodily frame; and crucially, my desire to keep living is not inconsistent with this rhythmic movement: it’s so consistent with it that it’s both its cause and effect.
This is not a peculiar property of this specific desire for “revenge” that this specific author has. This is the general logic of any “revenge.” In the crudest popular depictions of “revenge” we’re familiar with, we really do ourselves a disservice when we make it feel like the revenge-seeker needs to continue the existing frame, by, for instance, killing against killing, et cetera. What might truly be cathartic is if the revenge-seeker is given a way to identify and properly feel “revenge” in the substitution of the existing frame with another self-sustaining one, because the desire for “revenge” always seems to arise from a frame that is not self-sustaining: a frame that has the ability to satisfy an arising desire without discontinuing that frame — like the frame of my bodily constraints — will never give rise to a desire for “revenge” — just as I never feel that I want to destroy all my bodily constraints, which can only come about through the destruction of my own body — because a desire for “revenge” would mean a desire to discontinue the frame, but, by definition, a frame isn’t self-sustaining if it produces the desire for “revenge.” So, if my “revenge” is to be successful, then it must come about through the favoring of another such self-sustaining frame, which will result in an effective discontinuation.
By examining the properties of frames and desires in this way, then, here’s a preliminary conclusion about my desire for “revenge” and its object, which we’re trying to discover. The object of my desire consists in the “revenge,” which, in turn, consists in the discontinuation and substitution of the frame that produces this desire with one that doesn’t.
So, what is this other frame? It has to be a bit like my body. More precisely, it needs to produce a kind of desire that produces itself through its satisfaction. The frame of my body produces this desire by being subject only to the physical and biological laws of causality, which allows it to cyclically reproduce its founding conditions. If we want a similar frame for nails, then we have to make them subject only to the physical and biological laws of generation, degeneration, and regeneration, which, in turn, are subject to the crucial element of pure contingency. Like the frame of my body: the various physiological processes going on inside my body are contingent, in the sense that they could be interrupted by many sorts of things, such as, diseases, accidents, shocks, death, et cetera. Assuming no one murders me, no change in my bodily processes can be attributed to any agency. No one imposes the process of becoming hungry or asleep on me. This is most probably why I’m unable to feel a desire for “revenge” when I experience such bodily needs.
So, perhaps we could mimic this contingency to find a frame for nails. Such a contingency would translate as the antagonism between the equal possibilities of both “slutty” and “unslutty” nails, instead of the non-antagonistic impossibility of either of them. This antagonism is necessary because it’s during this organic race that we sit tight, hold our breath, and wait for a “winner” to “interpassively” emerge. It’s “interpassive” because it’s an interaction that’s passive because no agency can be attributed to anything: there’s a sense of passivity in what ensues from the contact between the possibility of “slutty” nails and the possibility of “unslutty” nails, because, just like the need for food “interpassively” arises through antagonistic processes in our body, if someone’s need — whatever the reason for it may be — for “slutty” or “unslutty” nails won’t be attributable to any agency, unlike the previous “ban on slutty nails,” where the need for “unslutty” nails is clearly blamable on the ban itself. Therefore, my “revenge” would consist in affirming such an antagonism, from which “interpassive” winners can arise. Once such an “interpassively” emerged need is identified, the frame constituted by this antagonism becomes self-sustaining, because this need can be satisfied however it needs to be satisfied, without resolving the antagonism itself, which keeps going on and produces further needs for “slutty” or “unslutty” nails. Such “interpassively” emerged needs are perhaps informally known as “freedoms” and “rights”: the possibility of the satisfaction of embodied needs.
This frame of antagonism is exactly what is “beyond or outside of” what is registered as possible under the frame that involves the constraint on “slutty” nails. The frame of the constraint prohibits such an antagonism, while the frame of antagonism is defined by it. This antagonism, therefore, is precisely what is “impossible” from the perspective of the frame of the constraint on “slutty” nails, while being self-sustaining. That means that if I can live in a world where this antagonism is instituted and specifically affects my tormentors — whoever else it does — my “revenge” will be complete.
What happens in a world where this antagonism is instituted? Obviously, there, the antagonism has to exist, by definition, which means that the two poles of the antagonism must be actively in flux with each other. In other words, in this world, both the desire for “slutty” nails and the desire for “unslutty” nails sort out among themselves the sites of their respective emergences. That is, this is a world where there are people with “slutty” nails, as well as people with “unslutty” nails, desires for both kinds of nails emerge and are satisfied in whoever they emerge in.
As anticlimactic as it might be, this world is the one I was born in and have lived in ever since and will live in until the last one of my tormentors dies, because they became affected by the frame of antagonism that I want instituted for my “revenge” the moment they themselves escaped frames of constraints on nails, if any, that they were once subject to. Their own moments of escape set off their respective frames of antagonism, in which they have all been living, satisfying their desires for “slutty” or “unslutty” nails, whatever it may have been for whomever among them. And, unless, they’re not somehow again subjected to such frames of constraints on nails at some point of their lives, they will die in the midst of their frames of antagonism. To put it more bluntly, ever since they escaped their tormentors — who they very likely won’t identify as such — they have had their what we call “freedom”: the possibility of satisfaction of their embodied needs for “slutty” or “unslutty” nails.
So, it seems I don’t have to do anything, because I’ve never not had “revenge.” In fact, I’ve been having “revenge” since before I had any sense of having been wronged, because the people I want “revenge” against have long been subject to the frame through which my “revenge” can come about. And, even more astonishingly, it seems that I will only ever need to do anything to get my “revenge” if my tormentors lose this freedom, to make them subject to the frame of antagonism once again.
It’s a teeth-gritting experience to write the sentence I’m going to write now, but: this is what wise people have called “forgiveness” and, more generally, “non-violence.” I’m gritting my teeth because it’s unacceptable to me to extend forgiveness towards these tormentors. But here’s how I — or anyone — can make peace with “forgiveness” or “non-violent” responses: there’s no need for me to grit my teeth because I’m obviously not forgiving them. I don’t think they should be allowed to get away with what they did; they must be punished, they must grieve their constraint on nails. The only way to do that is to live the frame of antagonism until the day they die, which they have been and will be. That is how much I punish them. I will subject them to what they have hated until the day we all die. I hate them, I want to hate them, but the only way to hate has shown itself to be for me to show them love. So, if I don’t love them, I can’t hate them. And if I didn’t hate them, I wouldn’t have been able to love them. The Father must be both killed and worshipped.
And I won’t do any of the loving or hating because I have the choice to do it and will then choose to do it. I will do it because I won’t ever have had the choice not to do it, I will recognize that perpetual absence of choice, and thus, I will have perpetually been doing it out of necessity, because it couldn’t have been otherwise: I could have never foreseen my future and thus somehow savor my “revenge” for a wrong done by them “on credit” before I met them or even knew they existed. The only thing that I could have done is to just be alive, go through life, with no assurance of any debt ever arising or being settled, while they, in some part of the world, were subjected to the frame of antagonism. There was no choice. All I did now was just realize that.
After writing a good part of this text, I realized that this “revenge” is the kind of thing that Jacques Derrida was obsessively seeking under the name of “gift” in his Given Time. I can’t say to have understood much of this book. But I was able to just peep into the first few pages of it because I realized my story of revenge. Derrida contrasts a gift with what he refers to as economy, in a completely generic sense of the word — without any specific connotation of money. If I put it in terms I understand, he sees economy as any system that can somehow put two expressions on the two sides of an equal sign. For instance, for every x units of oxygen I inhale, let’s say I spend some of this oxygen to grow my hair, to produce ear-wax, the snot in my nose, et cetera. That is, x units of oxygen = a certain length of my hair + a certain amount of my ear-wax + a certain amount of snot in my nose + … . This is an economy: when the term on the left hand side is consumed, the term of the right hand side is yielded. Economy, understood in this general sense, has various properties. Here are a few of them:
- It’s subject to a temporal if-then form: that is, we can make about an economy statements of the form If bla bla bla happens, then bla bla bla happens. For instance, if a certain amount of inhaled oxygen is consumed, then …
- For everything that is consumed/spent, something is returned concretely. Like the oxygen that is returned in the hair, ear-wax, snot, among other things.
- Therefore, there’s a material experience of something that is the result of one of the terms in the equation. For instance, if I’m being conscious enough, every time I pick a blob of snot from my nose, I can say to myself, this is one of the things you get in return from breathing in oxygen.
So, this is Derrida’s economy. Against this, he observes that, by gift, one must understand an “anti-economy” of sorts. As far as I can tell, this is really just an observation he makes, by pleading the reader to see that if we ask something in return of something, then it sounds odd to call it a gift. This seems right to me. We can see this in the offense we feel when we’re offered earthly stuff in exchange for an act of kindness. We’re somehow saying, “Me doing that for you was anti-economy, you idiot! You don’t offer me something in exchange.” So, a gift — an anti-economy — can be said to have the opposite characteristics of an economy:
- It’s not subject to a temporal if-then structure; somehow time gets defeated in its movement.
- Return is impossible.
- Therefore, an experience of return is also impossible.
Now, if a gift is something we give, causing a rupture in some economy, then the concept of a gift should include any conceivable act of giving, including giving someone whatever they need to be given when the experience they have as a result of the giving settles a debt owed to the giver. Revenge could definitely be such a thing: when we say that we want revenge for something, what we’re really saying is that we want to give to our wrongdoer something that will make them have an experience and them having this experience will settle the debt they owe us. Therefore, in this particular respect, revenge-dealing and gift-giving are structurally equivalent. They have to be: when we give someone a gift, we don’t expect anything back and are offended if we’re rewarded in exchange; similarly, when we exact revenge, we don’t expect our wrongdoer to get back at us for the revenge-dealing, we want them to just take it, shut up, and stop the cycle, because the intuition we have is that revenge is the last act, nothing follows it.
But, of course, this isn’t seen to happen very often. We get revenge, then our wrongdoer gets revenge for us getting revenge, and it keeps going on. In situations like that, we perhaps fail to realize that revenge-dealing must be made in the image of gift-giving. Failure to craft such revenge-dealing dooms the ineptly exacted revenge to fall back into the economic cycle, no matter how much we might want our wrongdoer to just shut up and take it and not deal us a blow in return.
But if revenge-dealing is successfully made in the image of gift-giving, then, just like a gift, revenge won’t be subject to a temporal if-then structure, it won’t have any cathartic return, and the revenge-dealer won’t experience any cathartic return. Only then can revenge be anti-economic and can the revenge-dealer rest assured that theirs was the last act, no further blow can be dealt.
I was amused to find that my revenge had all these qualities. Its movement was from the future towards to past: I got my revenge before I was wronged; that is, the embodied frame of antagonisms existed way before I met any of my tormentors. The event of wrong-doing wasn’t consumed in a process that produced the embodied frame, obviously, because it preceded the wrong-doing, and I, as the revenge-dealer, during revenge-dealing, didn’t have any experience of said revenge, because it was still before I had met them, so I couldn’t have predicted that there would be a wrong-doing for which I was getting revenge in anticipation. Thus, I seem to have landed upon the same answer from two different directions: once from all that talk of frames and desires, and once from what seems to be a reasonable description of a gift. And it’s probably easy to see why: because if we’re paying attention, then the frame of my body, as I described it, contains the anti-economic structure of gift-giving. At first blush, it might seem very economic: after all, things in my body happen as an effect of various cues I receive, which seems to be a temporally constrained if-then kind of movement. But, perhaps not quite. Because remember that “I can wake up, do my usual morning routine, then feed myself, become refreshed, then get tired again at the end of the day, and fall asleep, thus continually producing and reproducing my bodily frame; and crucially, my desire to keep living is not inconsistent with this rhythmic movement: it’s so consistent with it that it’s both its cause and effect.” Both cause and effect — this is an anti-economy par excellence. That is, we might begin by thinking of the bodily frame as an economy and its various terms being converted into each other, but, in the long run, the various phases in the process become undifferentiable from each other and it becomes parallel to the structure of gift-giving. Existence becomes, in a strict sense of the term, a gift: one comes to exist when one is truly given. To add to the fun, Derrida observes this truth, through references to Heidegger, in the quirk of the existential construction in German, where, There is bla bla bla translates as Es gibt bla bla bla, “It gives bla bla bla.” I am given, therefore, I am.
I don’t know a good way to end this text, given how anticlimactic this whole meditation has made me feel. If you experience such revenge, you realize, “All this time, I was having it, and I didn’t know, and there’s nothing for me to do — now or ever.” You just sit and wait to die.
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