being, of voice and the meaning of being, of voice and the ide-
ality of meaning” ( 12 ).
All the philosophers agree, Derrida asserts: they con-
stantly favor speech over writing. Descartes imagines the cog-
ito as spoken, not written. Socrates elevates philosophical
conversation, with its ability to respond to the objections of an
interlocutor, over writing that says the same thing forever, to
whatever reader happens upon it. (This concept forms the
thesis of the Phaedrus,which Derrida attempts to puncture in
“Plato’s Pharmacy.”) Heidegger pictures himself listening to
the voice of Being, rather than reading its signs. All three
philosophers, according to Derrida, are trapped by a wrong-
headed metaphysical attitude: for them, speech has an authen-
ticity that writing could never attain. Speech seems available to
empirical proof in a way that writing does not, according to
Derrida. Voice tempts us to the idea of presence: we can hear
it, we can feel it happening. So once again, empiricism be-
comes a danger to philosophy, as in the case of Foucault’s in-
sistence on the experience of madness when he should have
stayed on the plane of ideas. The experience of speaking, like
the fact of madness, seems immediate and therefore convinc-
ing. But Derrida suggests that the drifting, ungraspable phe-
nomenon of writing is a better guide, even in its elusive-
ness. (As I have indicated, Derrida eventually proves unable to
uphold this preference for the nonevident; he needs a break-
through into reality.)
For Derrida, writing is naturally devious. It surprises us,
disconcerts us, he argues, in a way that speech cannot (at least
not in its straightforward, ideal version). When I say “I think,
I am,” I congratulate myself on my powers of thought—and
demonstrate these powers in the most immediate, present-
Writing and DifferenceandOf Grammatology 73