One might think, or hope, that Abraham’s case was exceptional. He was, aft er all, a great patriarch. His act was the basis of the three great religions of the Book. His progeny, by way of Isaac, ultimately included Jesus Christ, the Messiah. Abraham is not so much to be emulated as admired. Surely God (if you want to call the “nameless” that) will not require of you or me anything like Abraham’s sacrifi ce of his love for his only son to his love for God. Th e radical strength of Derrida’s argument here is to say “no” to this cop- out. No, he says, each one of us, every instant of every day, is in exactly the same situation as Abraham on Mount Moriah with his knife raised over Isaac. Abraham’s situation is exemplary, paradigmatic, not exceptional.
And such a sacrifice is not even invisible, for from time to time the television displays— while keeping them at a distance— a series of intolerable images of it, and a few voices are raised to bring it all to our attention. But those images and voices are completely powerless to induce the slightest effective change in the situation, to assign the least responsibility, to furnish anything other than alibis.
Each one of us does the unforgivable. For even if society would prosecute a father murdering his child on the hills of Montmartre, of Hollywood, of Rome, Mecca, or Jerusalem, that same society allows to die of hunger and disease tens of millions of children (those relatives or fellow humans that ethics or the discourse of the rights of man refer to), without any moral or legal tribunal ever being considered competent to judge such a sacrifi ce, the sacrifi ce of the other to avoid being sacrifi ced oneself. Not only does such a society participate in this incalculable sacrifi ce, it actually organizes it. The smooth functioning of its economic, political, and legal order, the smooth functioning of its moral discourse and good conscience, presuppose the permanent operation of this sacrifice.
And such a sacrifice is not even invisible, for from time to time the television displays— while keeping them at a distance— a series of intolerable images of it, and a few voices are raised to bring it all to our attention. But those images and voices are completely powerless to induce the slightest effective change in the situation, to assign the least responsibility, to furnish anything other than alibis.
Jacques Derrida, J. Hillis Miller, and Elisabeth Weber
Living Together: Jacques Derrida's Communities of Violence and Peace
Living Together: Jacques Derrida's Communities of Violence and Peace
