maxims. Being innate, the rules governing reciprocal and reflexive constructions
are of the same type as the laws of physics. As we have just seen, the empirical
phenomena do not justify these assertions: the rules in question are defeasible
for expressive purposes; the constructions vary according to the natural
languages; and they each have a history, which likewise varies according to
the language. It will be noted that Chomsky’s naturalism at least has the
merit of coherence, since (as we have seen) it leads him to deny the existence
of natural languages. From the standpoint of the science of language, ‘English’
does not exist: give or take a few parameters, and we move imperceptibly
from one ‘language’ to another. For its part, the deep structure is universal
and, from its standpoint, there is no difference between English and Quechua.
In a sense, Chomsky is not mistaken on this point – but for reasons that
he would probably not accept. As we saw in the introduction, ‘English’ is a
cultural and political construct embodied in institutions (schools, the media,
international institutions). In reality, ‘standard English’ is a dialect (equipped
with an army) and ‘English’ denotes a multiplicity of registers and dialects,
which are possibly well on the way to diverging from one another, as attested
by the great variety of ‘New Englishes’. In the strict sense, it may therefore
be argued that ‘English’ does not exist. But not in the sense that Chomsky
understands this statement. It assumes an approach to language and natural
languages as historical and social phenomena, capable of change, variation,
and admixtures. Accordingly, we shall defend the paradoxical position that
‘English’ both does, and does not, exist.
For it exists. The ontological metaphor that leads me to transform the noun
into an adjective by adding a definite article in French – l’anglais – cannot
but designate a referent: to be specific, an ideological and political construct
(there is a social history of ‘English’, its diffusion and teaching, of the constitution
of a standard dialect and the canon of literary texts that illustrate it). In short,
‘English’ in this sense is a specific way of inhabiting language (to speak like
Heidegger) or the vector of a conception of the world (to speak like Gramsci).
But the other side of the paradox will also be defended: ‘English’ does not
exist, since it is always-already dissolved in a variation of dialects, levels of
language, and registers. Deleuze’s concepts of continuous variation, minority,
and collective assemblage of enunciation are of more use here than Chomsky’s
concepts. But to criticise these is not enough. We still have to explain their
emergence and its necessity.
36 • Chapter Two