Specters of Marx 1993–1995 473
Why should the friend be like a brother? Let us dream of a
friendship which goes beyond this proximity of the congeric
double, beyond kinship, the most as well as the least natural of
parenthoods, when it leaves its signature, from the outset, on
the name as on a double mirror of such a couple. Let’s wonder
what would then be the politics of such a ‘beyond the principle
of fraternity’.^38Over the years, Derrida had kept up his relations with Georges
Canguilhem. Long retired from any offi cial obligations, he some-
times called himself ‘a superannuated cook of concepts’. Derrida
still regularly sent him copies of his books, as he did to other old
and new friends. In 1994, Canguilhem thanked him for his loyalty,
though he felt he had not been very important in Derrida’s career:
‘I fi nd Politics of Friendship really stimulating. It’s a masterpiece.
When you talk about Kant, or Nietzsche, I feel I’m in a posi-
tion to judge. [.. .] What did surprise me was to come across Carl
Schmitt [.. .]. I admire the cunning simplicity with which you enable
Aristotle, Montaigne, and Blanchot to coexist.’^39
On 15 December 1994, Catherine Malabou defended the thesis
she had written under Derrida’s supervision, later published as
The Future of Hegel: Plasticity, Temporality and Dialectic. It
was a brilliant, audacious piece of work, which did not hesitate
to question several points in Derrida’s reading of Hegel. During
the thesis defence, as he often did, Derrida spoke for two hours,
superbly, but the other members of the jury could not conceal
their irritation, and several seemed on the point of walking out.
Sylviane Agacinski, who was a friend of Catherine, was present
in the audience. Even though Sylviane was still one of the authors
published in the series ‘La philosophie en eff et’, Jacques and she
were no longer on speaking terms. ‘But after the thesis defence,’
recalls Catherine Malabou, ‘he came over to us. He talked briefl y
with Sylviane, asking her how Daniel was, before adding: “I bless
him every day.” The two of us were left staring at one another,
thunderstruck.’^40
Six months earlier, Sylviane had married Lionel Jospin, with
whom she had been living since 1990. He was very fond of Daniel
and looked after him as if he had been his own son. Derrida had not
seen the child again, apart from one completely chance encounter.
One day, coming out of a plane in an airport in the south of France,
he recognized Sophie Agacinski, Sylviane’s sister, and her husband
Jean-Marc Thibault. Jacques was about to greet them when a young
boy ran up to hug them. No doubt about it: this had to be Daniel,
who had come to spend a few days’ holiday with his uncle and aunt.
At the same moment, the three adults understood the situation: