Foucault And Mary Shelley`s Frankenstein.

The idea of 'confession' is one that is bound up with images of religion, sexuality, torture and justice. It is a term that conjures both the threat to reveal our darkest secrets, and also the reassurance of the promise of complete truth and honesty. But, for Foucault and Western philosophy, specifically from the 19th century onwards, confession plays a key role in the constitution of the Western man. In The History of Sexuality1, Foucault discusses the relevance of confession, and how its significance in Western society has shifted. Confession is present throughout numerous realms of life; pedagogy, in pupil/teacher or child/parent relationships, religion, most notably in the procedure of Confession in Catholicism, in job contexts, between managers and staff for example. What Foucault argues is that we are constantly under pressure to commit one's personal truths, thoughts and feelings to those who believe it is their right to know them, to an extent now that is 'relayed through so many different points, is so deeply ingrained in us, that we no longer perceive it as the effect of a power that constrains us' (Foucault, p. 60); to an extent now that we believe that they have a right to know, and the act of withholding information, of not confessing, is more detrimental to our existence in society than the opposite. Since the Victorian era, the Industrial Revolution and the rise of capitalism, society has become evermore consumerist and individuated; the focus upon the individual and their 'story' has gone hand in hand with the role of confession. As Foucault examines in Discipline & Punish: The Birth of the Prison2, individuation ran throughout Victorian society, and its link with confession could be based in the penal system; prisons changed in the 19th century, and the focus upon the individual was reflected even in the architecture of Victorian jails, where a panoptic layout meant each prisoner could be 'seen' by the warder, and was under the constant pressure of surveillance - each cell, each prisoner, had a story to tell, a confession to make. More interestingly, Foucault goes on to relate his ideas of confession to the construction of subjectivity and ideas about the self. In the process of confession, we open ourselves up to the judgement of others, most often to that of those in a position of power. Consequently, the actions we commit, and then confess to, begin to define us as character types, and labels are generated - a characteristic of 19th century society; as post-Romantic movements shifted cultural and sociopolitical thought towards rationalization, modern class distinctions began to develop, definitive names were assigned to ideas, and labels were assigned to people. For example, a man who confesses to homosexual acts is thus labeled as a homosexual; the term shifts in type from adjectival to nounal and a character type is assigned to the person3; the connotations of what was once an ephemeral, descri ptive term for thoughts, feelings or actions, are ingrained in others', and indeed the person's own views of his self, to the extent where he is inextricably linked to them and they become his way of life. A culture of constant confession reinforces the power relationships in the aforementioned situations, positioning the confessor as subject to the receiver through judgement and the transference of knowledge; the pedagogic, religious and labour institutions reinforce and maintain their power over us as subjects. It would be impossible to further discuss Foucault's ideas of confession and subjectivity without addressing the key negotiator of both - discourse. Discourse, written or spoken communication, is an agent of power; as subjects, we are governed by discourse, and it constructs our existence and our self-understanding, as well as the ways others see us: ...we are, more precisely, secret or double agents of language: we do not necessarily know, from one moment to the next, how we are being used by language, or where it might be leading us.4 As Bennett and Royle explain clearly here, we are 'used' by language; rather than us controlling the language we use and using it the way we want to, words use us and control the way we are perceived. A more complex definition of this, and one that goes a step further in reference to language and subjectivity, and Charles Sanders Peirce's ideas of semiotics and the self's dependence upon discourse, is given by Walter Benn Michaels If...we accept Peirce's principle "that the absolutely incognizable (unknowable) does not exist," then we must go on to say not merely that we can only know the self as a sign, but that the self is a sign, or, as Peirce rather dramatically puts it, "the word or sign that man uses is the man himself".5 Our constitution as subjects then, the construction of our selfs, is due to the language and discourse through which we communicate, and, as aforementioned, what we say, what we confess, serves to cast us in character types. It is the preferred ways in which a practice is talked about - discourse - that links both confession and subjectivity, and allows for the consideration of these ideas in conjunction with works of literature, such as Mary Shelley's Frankenstein6. Shelley's novel is a frame of confessions; Frankenstein's Creature confesses to Frankenstein what he has been thinking, feeling and doing, Victor Frankenstein then confesses this, and his own story to Walton, and Walton then confesses to his sister Margaret what Victor Frankenstein has confessed to him. All this is 'confessed' to the reader in the form of the epistolary novel. However, the most interesting confession is that which is most central - the Creature's confession to old man De Lacey. At the centre of the novel, in Volume II Chapter VII, the reader learns of the Creature's desire to become a subject, to enter discourse, to enter human society. After living in hiding at De Lacey's cottage for some time, and observing Safie's attempts, the Creature sets about teaching himself the French language, so that he can begin to understand the communication he hears between humans, including the De Lacey family, and so that he can (or so he believes) enter into this society, just as Safie does ...she was endeavouring to learn their language; and the idea instantly occurred to me, that I should make use of the same instructions to the same end...My days were spent in close attention, that I might more speedily master the language...I comprehended and could imitate almost every word that was spoken. (Shelley, p. 78-79) The Creature goes on to read 'the books [that] were written in the language the elements of which I had acquired at the cottage; they consisted of Paradise Lost, a volume of Plutarch's Lives, and the Sorrows of Werter,' (Shelley, p. 86). The Creature learns the language, makes the psychological connection, between the signs of language and the ideas they depict in the works of literature he reads, with his own mind, 'As I read, however, I applied much personally to my own feelings and condition,' (Ibid) and, ultimately, learns the language and discourse of human society. Does he then succeed in his desire to be constituted as a human subject? To enter human society? The Creature's experience in the De Lacey cottage culminates when he confesses all to old man De Lacey. The Creature has learnt the language of society, French, and has mastered speech, as one understands from his articulate account of his experiences. What happens next is a metaphorical comment on discourse, semiotics, society and confession; the Creature reveals himself to the blind De Lacey while he is alone, he begins to explain his appearance to the old man and immediately subjects himself to him. The Creature is highly apologetic, 'Pardon this intrusion...you would greatly oblige me...do not trouble yourself, my kind host,' (Shelley, p. 90) and De Lacey, unable to see his form, accepts the Creature as a fellow 'countryman' (Ibid). The dialogue continues and the Creature's mastery of the language seems to seduce the old man I am blind, and cannot judge your countenance, but there is something in your words which persuades me that you are sincere...it will afford me true pleasure to be in any way serviceable to a human creature. (Shelley, p.91) Here, distinctions are made between language and human society; the Saussurean ideas of 'signifier' and 'signified' are hinted at and narrativized and the Creature goes on to confess 7. It is this confession that really demonstrates the ideas previously discussed; as the Creature begins his confession, he is interrupted by the entrance of Felix, Safie and Agatha. Upon this entrance, preceded fittingly by De Lacey's question 'who are you?' (Shelley, p. 91), the three behold the Creature's appearance and react by fainting, leaving the cottage and attacking him. Without allowance of explanation from the Creature, he is 'dashed...to the ground, and struck...violently with a stick' (Ibid). So, the Creature enters discourse, he learns the language, and is even accepted as a 'human creature' (Ibid) by the old blind man. This initial acceptance is based on his mastery of human communication; as Saussure would define, his use of signifiers indicates to the old man that he is human, for De Lacey cannot see the signified concept of the Creature during their dialogue. Therefore, the expression of 'I', which would signify the first person pronoun of a human, not a Creature, does so to the blind De Lacey. Just before the Creature is able to explain himself, to confess in the language and discourse of the human condition, his inhuman appearance is seen by Felix, Safie and Agatha, and the signified concept of the Creature's 'I' is realized - he is evicted from the cottage. The Creature's confession, his attempt to enter human society through entering human discourse, his attempt to become a human subject, fails. It is interrupted and the distinctions between the signifiers of human communication, or 'sound images', and the ideas they signify, or 'concepts' (Saussure, p. 78), are made clear. It could be argued that the main theme of Shelley's Frankenstein is this notion of humanity, and particularly the Creature's desire to be human, or at least be accepted into human society. Whether this be agreed or not, it is certainly a central trope when considering the roles of confession, discourse and subjectivity in the text. The Creature attempts to become human through confession; he learns the tools of human communication and attempts to become a human subject by confessing within a microcosm of humanity - a family. His attempt fails; despite his ability to articulate his thoughts and feelings, just as a human would, he cannot enter human society due to the differences in his condition to the signified concepts of 'the human' that are bound up within the discourse of human society, nor is he allowed the space in society to confess and explain his existence. He is thus abject to humanity; he is unable to become a human subject even through confession, and is therefore subject to nothing and no-one. Throughout the novel, the Creature seems to have no figure of authority above him. In fact, towards the end of the text, we see him assuming the power of authority over Frankenstein, and indeed his family as well. Regardless of his impeccable knowledge of the human language, and his ability to enter discussion and discourse, the Creature's inhuman appearance contradicts his human intellect, and he remains as the dangerous 'other'.