The subject to consider briefly here is certainly complex and difficult but especially abundant in epistemological misunderstanding and hermeneutic complications. To try to avoid all those pitfalls it is necessary to set up some rudimentary limits and recall some truisms of sociological analysis.

It is not the purpose of this short essay to try the impossible and give an adequate historical survey of the Western image (or rather images) of China. There is, moreover, a vast literature on the subject to which both sinologists and historians of European culture have contributed. The following paragraphs will restrict themselves to two poles in this history: the perception and reception of China in the 17th century (with Leibniz as the most significant and impressive representative of the period)—in other words the image of China as current among the philosophes i.e., the pre-enlightenment, still Christian humanists, none of which was (or could have been) a sinologist properly speaking—and again at the end of the 19th century, when academic sinology began to get into stride. Without in any way detracting from the significance of his great predecessors and contemporaries, especially Marcel Granet, we shall limit our discussion to J.J.M. de Groot (Leiden and Berlin, d. 1921).

Despite the great dramatists of the preceding century—Corneille, Racine and Molière—the 18th century is often considered the great age of French theatre. Obviously “the great age” should not be understood in the usual literary history sense as the “classical age”, for the structures and the content of French dramas originating in the 18th century did not have normative effects on the dramatic production of the centuries that followed. Nevertheless, we are doubly right in using the term “the great age” for French theatre of this period. On the one hand, from the viewpoint of the history of theatre, because certain dramatic techniques originating toward the middle of the 18th century have, down to our own times, influenced theatre so decisively and have become so natural that they form true hermeneutical barriers to the interpretation of plays from earlier epochs. And secondly from the viewpoint of social history, for theatre attendance at that time was indissolubly linked to the everyday life—or at least to holidays and festive occasions—of various social levels in France. As a result we can no doubt consider the theatre as the decisive center of critical knowledge, the gradual transmission of which is at the very heart of the process of the Enlightenment.

The word “legitimacy” and its derivations (legitimate, legitimation, etc.) are widely employed in scientific language as they also are in current usage. In fact, we find them in several areas, from that of reasoning (“this conclusion is legitimate”) to that of law (“judgment of legitimacy”, “legitimate family”) and politics (“legitimate sovereign”). It is particularly in this latter domain, however, that they have their normal use as qualifications for power, and it is this particular aspect that I shall consider in this paper. In accredited political language “legitimacy” designates a principle, or criterion, of justification for power (acting and commanding) and, correlatively, of the obedience that is its due.

The idea that language is metaphoric in nature has often been suggested or stated since Vico and Rousseau. Derrida, too, often writes about metaphor and the impression he gives is that he is arguing for the metaphoric nature of both thought, whether philosophic or not, and language. Interpreters like de Man or Culler have helped to spread this impression. If it is correct, Derrida shares a pan-metaphoric view of language and whatever can be made with it. It is useful to refer to Derrida's view because in my opinion he has been very good at saying what language is, even if he has been very much in the wrong in seeing no distinction between language and language use. Let us consider first what he has been good at.

In all societies that have arrived at a certain degree of social differentiation, there are two types of culture that may be qualified respectively as “popular” and “lettered”. Popular culture is that of the people as opposed to the dominant political and intellectual classes. The latter two may be distinct (but allied), as in ancient India with the pair Brahman-kshatriva. or mixed as in Confucian China with the bureaucracy of scholars-civil servants. The duality between the two kinds of culture may become less distinct with the democratization of power and education as well as with the omnipresent symbolic universe of the media. None the less, it survives, as has been proven by all sociological research on the nature of leisure time as employed by classes in industrial societies, in the “West” and in the “East”.

The literary relations between the Harlem Renaissance and the Negritude Movement have, we believe, been sufficiently documented. It has been demonstrated that Senghor, Damas and Césaire avidly perused the pages of Crisis, Opportunity and Garvey's Negro World—Journals in which Langston Hughes, Claude Mckay, Countee Cullen and Jean Tommer—the poets of the Harlem Renaissance, first had their poems published. It is equally literary history now, that some of the poems of the Afro-American writers were reprinted in such Parisian Black-oriented journals and little magazines as Les Continents, La Dépêche Africaine, Le Cri des Nègres, La Revue du Monde Noir and Légitime Défense. In this dissemination of ideas across the Atlantic, Paulette Nardal, Edward A. Jones, Louis T. Achille and Mercer Cook played the important role of literary intermediaries through their translations.

Toward the end of Light in August, in the climactic scene in Chapter 1 where the authorities of justice pursue the elusive Joe Christmas through the streets of Jefferson, William Faulkner introduces a new character, Percy Grimm, a twenty-five-year-old captain in the State National Guard who has relentlessly acquired the rank of a special deputy for the search. As the town closes for the weekend, Grimm keeps vigil at a downtown store where other townsfolk have begun a poker game to stay awake through the night as the search goes on. In their zeal to uphold law and justice, his men revel in their fantastic make-believe that they are doing the work of “a hidden and unsleeping and omnipotent eye watching the doings of men.” The poker game goes on through Saturday night until Christmas is spotted and given chase. As Grimm runs through the streets after the fleeing man, Faulkner presents to us the deputy's stream of thought from an omniscient point of view: “There was nothing vengeful about him either, no fury, no outrage. He was moving again almost before he had stopped, with that lean, swift, blind obedience to whatever Player moved him on the Board” (437). Through the rest of the chapter, Grimm, who has not participated in the poker game at all, thinks and acts as if he is engaged in a chess game, not as a player but as the stake or the pawn in a board game in which Jefferson is the board on which he and Christmas are being moved from place to place by two larger forces, he by the benevolent Providence and Christmas by the powers opposed to God. Finally, when Christmas is cornered and fatally shot in Reverend Hightower's kitchen, this fantasized game seems to end.

The development of the science of economics is closely linked to the structure of capitalism. Even though ancient and medieval thinkers had already stated a certain number of ideas in this domain, the science of economics, in the modern sense of the word, did not truly begin until the 17th Century and the early 18th Century. At that time the methodology for research in the natural sciences was developed, and the first scientific academies and societies were founded (England, France, Prussia, Russia). The initial step in the development of the science of economics occurred in conjunction with this process. Moreover, the ideas of the first economists were, as a general rule, centered on the practical problems and needs of the State. And in that period the prevalent state structure in Europe was the absolute monarchy. Consequently, the first economists were, for the most part, counsellors to the sovereign, authors of studies and reports containing a variety of proposals regarding economic policy. With regard to a great many distinguished economists of the 17th and 18th Centuries, we can speak of them being “men of proposals”.

Emile Benvcniste may be used to introduce the topic. The French linguist begins an essay on “Euphemisms Ancient and Modern” with a paradox about the early Greek definitions of euphemism. “To speak words which augur well” is one meaning given, but another is “to maintain silence”. This initial contradiction is further compounded by yet a third expression, “to shout in triumph”. The dilemma is, however, easily dissolved. To speak words which augur well implies, for special occasions, an exhortation even to shout triumphantly, “to assent by an, auspicious outcry”: it further implies, again depending on the circumstances, “to avoid words which augur ill”, hence, if necessary, to say nothing. As one definition explains “avoid all unlucky words during sacred rites: hence, as the surest mode of avoiding them, keep a religious silence” (original emphasis). Paradox terminates; we are merely dealing with “a euphemism for a euphemism” taking an expression of Benveniste out of context.

The publication of the article “Recent Models of the African Iron Age and the Cattle-Related Evidence” by Hromnik in a journal sponsored by Unesco raises a number of serious issues which we, as members of the International Scientific Committee charged with the responsibility of preparing an up-to-date and scientific history of Africa purged of its mists of racist propaganda, unfounded assertions and misleading and dangerous misinterpretations, cannot ignore. These issues include the scientific accuracy or authenticity of the article.