Kelly Oliver reads Kristeva’s imaginary father as a screen for an imaginary mother. In “Kristeva’s Imaginary Father” she depicts Kristeva as an iconoclast who subverts Lacanian paradigms of subjectivity:
- Subversion of body/mind or language dualism. In Desire in Language (1980) Kristeva criticizes Lacan’s understanding of the subject’s transition from the mirror stage of the imaginary to the symbolic for ignoring how the materiality of the body subtends discursive and social formations. For Lacan the threat of castration enables the child to escape from the lure of the imaginary and thus to recognize the gap between its body and its image, the precondition for the child’s entry into the symbolic; however, in order to experience the threat of castration, the child must already be a subject within the symbolic. In contrast, Kristeva (like Irigaray) assumes that the mirror stage is already symbolic. She replaces Lacan’s body/mind dualism with a model of the maternal body as “ a bridge between the biological foundation of signifying functioning and its determination by the family and society” (Revolution in Poetic Language, 1974). Her notion of the maternal body is in my opinion similar to Spinoza’s notion of infinite substance; as Oliver says, “through jolts of matter the speaking subject is produced.”
- Subversion of Lacanian notion of the paternal function. For Kristeva the move from the presymbolic to the symbolic is motivated not by castration threat or sense of lack but by excess and pleasure. The law of the mother, symbolized by the chora, “a nonexpressive totality formed by drives and their stases in a motility that is as full of movement as it is regulated,” precipitates material rejection; or maternal regulation set up by the mother’s body, as in the intrauterine state, lays the groundwork for the paternal function. Maternal regulation (in the intra- and extra-uterine state) precedes paternal regulation, both enables the child’s access to the symbolic order and threatens its logic. Kristeva ontologizes subjectivity by reading the relationship between mother and child before, during and after birth as a representation of the dynamics of a “subject-in-process,” a subject who is not unitary and closed but fragmented and always in the process of becoming. It is important to note both the biological and social foundations of subjectivity in Kristeva’s theory; the body of the mother is both a literal and a metaphorical one:
1) First there is the Maternal Body. (As in Irigaray’s thought) Intrauterine existence is representative of a subjectivity that is both embodied and symbolic, as the mother’s body regulates what goes in and what goes out of the fetus’ body. The infant “reduplicates” its early relationship with the maternal body through incorporating the mother’s breast; the incorporation of the breast prefigures incorporation of the other’s speech in the symbolic. Primary narcissism, then, manifests itself as the first identification of the fetus with a model or pattern of incorporation through reduplication; it is objectless and non-mimetic. Yet this identification with a model of incorporation sets in motion the logic of object identifications in all object relations, including discourse and love.
2) Then there is Birth, which represents abjection. The child is abjected from the mother’s body during birth. The infant is a not-yet- subject and the mother is a not-yet object in this transitional phase between his birth and his awareness of having been born. A narcissistic crisis is set in motion as the child seeks to separate from his mother but cannot since he identifies himself as abject, that is, identifies with the collapse of a boundary between inside and outside, experiences ontological instability and helplessness. In Powers of Horror (1980) Kristeva explains how the subject comes to identify himself with the abject. Since the mother’s desire is not given a signifier within the symbolic, the mother can only pretend to be the phallus or object of man’s desire; hence the child must take the place of no-object since the mother’s desire has no object. The child identifies with the “not I” in the space between the mother and her unattainable desire, the other.
3) Finally there is Conception, or the birth of the subject, which necessitates a loving, imaginary father. In Revolution in poetic language (1974) Kristeva explains the abjection of the mother in terms of primal repression: the Oedipal symbolic demands the exclusion of the mother’s body and her drives. The imaginary father, or mother-father conglomerate, enables the subject to abject (separate) from the mother. This father is an unattainable phallic ideal, the mother’s desire, and takes the place of the mother by giving love. Hence identification with the imaginary father (an identification that is objectless) enables the subject to separate from and remain connected to the mother, even though she is abjected. His love is what enables the subject to attain subjectivity. The imaginary father, then, serves as a bridge between pre-symbolic and symbolic realms (takes the place, in a sense, of Winnicott's transitional object), between preOedipal mother and Oedipal father: he represents the possibility of sublimating the drives, which leads to the discourse of love.
Kelly elides how Kristeva’s theory of subjectivity reinscribes Lacan’s phallocentrism; she does not ask this crucial question: If the maternal body provides a link between drives and desire, if maternal regulation precedes and provides the basis of identifications in the symbolic, then why must the mother’s body be abjected by the subject, as if it were the material excess that it regulates? Kristeva’s notion of the maternal function as constitutive of discourse and desire through repetition, the reduplication of the pattern of incorporation, is at odds with her notion that subjectivity is constituted on the basis of the abjection of the mother’s body even if the imaginary father is read as a metaphor for the imaginary mother, which is how Oliver reads Kristeva; if a paternal metaphor is bound to replace a maternal metaphor, we are back to the opposition between body and discourse or language implied in the Lacanian formulation of the subject. Sublimating the body of the mother through the figure of the imaginary father does not solve the problem. The dualism between maternal body and the symbolic can only be subverted if subjectivity is theorized from a perspective that does not demand the sacrifice of the mother or of her body. In order to bypass the mind/body split, one must think past the Oedipal to a theory of the embodied imaginary, reading the subject through the grid of multiple, embodied imaginaries instead of making one Western white imaginary inevitable, foreclosing the subject's agency. To borrow Irigaray’s metaphor, Kelly holds up a speculum to Kristeva’s corpus, reads the Kristevan trajectory of narcissism backwards and arrives at a celebration of female difference from a Kristevan account of maternal abjection made less tragic by a loving father. The split in Kristeva’s thought between a subject who is formed by her relationship with the mother’s body and a subject who is formed by her abjection of the mother’s body is foregrounded rather than repaired through Oliver’s revision, which proceeds through a series of metonymic substitutions that correspond to the position of the subject of mother’s body or breast, of birth and of conception:
1. First Oliver reads Kristeva’s notion of the imaginary father through Freud’s reading of the primal father as a father-mother conglomerate. She uses “La vierge de Freud” as evidence that the pre-Oedipal imaginary mother is implicated in the imaginary father, for in this text Kristeva argues that a “prehistoric, unforgettable, imaginary” maternal function is present on Freud’s text on da Vinci. Oliver then identifies Kristeva’s imaginary father as a “paternal” mother. The child identifies not with a substitute for the mother, but with the mother in disguise. Since the mother is a speaking subject, a symbolic mother even when the “other” is in her womb, then the imaginary father who will later take her place is really her in disguise.
2. The imaginary father is then likened to the mother’s desire for the phallus. Now the paternal mother is read as the maternal father, a combination of the mother and her desire for the phallus. Kelly conflates the psychoanalytic meaning of “phallus” with the more feminist notion of the “other”: “”The imaginary father is the maternal desire for the phallus. It is the other already within the mother, not only in the real sense during pregnancy but also in the imaginary and symbolic senses. The other is, after all, primarily a speaking being.” (70) Since the child occupies the space between the mother and her desire and is not yet a subject, the imaginary father is merely perceived as what mother desires, “not I.”
3. The imaginary father shifts from being a site of the mother’s desire to a screen for an imaginary mother whose love the subject identifies with, enabling her to make a transference to the symbolic. She uses Kristeva’s characterization of the mother’s love as “the facsimile of the third person” (71) in “The Father, Love and Banishment” as evidence to support her own position and juxtaposes this with Kristeva’s definition of love in Tales of Love as: “(not) a narcissistic merger with the maternal container but the emergence of a metaphorical object—in other words, the very splitting that constitutes the psyche and, let us call this splitting “primal repression,” bends the drive towards the symbolic of an other.” Since the mother must be abjected from the symbolic, her love is preserved through the love of an imaginary father, who is now the substitute for the mother, her replacement. The child identifies with the love of the imaginary mother qua imaginary father. Oliver asks, “Could the father of the law be wrong? Perhaps primary identification is not with the mother’s body but with the mother’s love.” (76) However—and this is how Oliver fails to read Kristeva—if the literal body of the mother is sacrificed in the making of metaphor of love, then how can she be seen as a bridge between semiotic drives and symbolic discourse?
Kelly’s reading then moves from an intrapsychic to an intersubjective one. Drawing from Kristeva’s “Stabat Mother” in Tales of Love (1987), she considers the mother’s subjectivity as well as the child’s and puts the mother’s mother in the place of the imaginary father: “If the mother loves an other, it is her own mother, and she loves her mother not only as an other but also as herself, now the mother.” (73). Kristeva’s notion of loving the other as/in oneself, an alternative to the identity/difference binary, is similar to Irigaray’s identification of “the neither one nor two” of the mother/daughter dyad as the logic of a potential female symbolic. Oliver emphasizes that the mother’s experience of the child as other is NOT a relation to the phallus or unattainable desire; instead, “the mother’s other is a natural other.” (75)
Oliver’s misreading of Kristeva’s corpus is productive. By offering a trajectory of the position of the imaginary father, from “paternal” mother to maternal desire to love for the mother, Oliver attempts to bridge the gap between the two contradictory notions of subjectivity in Kristeva’s thought; and although she fails (for the literal mother is in the end sacrificed to the metaphor of love qua the imaginary father as ground of sublimation), she also produces from this failure the possibility of theorizing a different relation to the imaginary mother. In addition, Oliver perform her own fantasy of Kristeva as the ideal mother of psychoanalysis while revealing Kristeva’s fantasy of herself as the ideal “son” of Freud, establishing her difference from Kristeva while setting up an idealizing identification with her. Bloom’s reading of the anxiety of influence between the fathers and sons needs to be revised when it comes to female writers and theoreticians: rather than define themselves against their predecessors, I argue, they seek connections that imaginatively reconfigure their predecessor’s corpus. So when Oliver suggests that Kristeva deflects her own desire for a union with an imaginary mother though her invention of the imaginary father, she identifies in Kristeva her own desire for a place within theory for an embodied female imaginary. Oliver’s adoption of Kristeva as an imaginary ideal mother of psychoanalysis is preferable to abjecting Kristeva’s notion of abjection, for she needs Kristeva as a support for her own theory of the imaginary mother. Hence she identifies with the “other” within Kristeva, the one who could abject the logic of the phallus from her thought; and this identification leads her to the notion of an imaginary mother which I will adopt for my own purposes, mapping it onto the dynamics of twentieth-century female-authored texts within which love functions as a metaphor for a selfhood that is always linked to a m(Other) who, although abjected from the dominant male symbolic, is still a positive presence in the real and imaginary lives of women.