“Frontier” is included in the general category of “limit” (limes: a road bordering a field). But what is at the origin of limit, frontier? An authority, a power that can exercise “the social function of ritual and social significance of the line, the limit whose ritual legitimizes passage, transgression” (Bourdieu, 1982, p. 121). The limit, a traced line, sets up an order that is not only spatial but temporal, since it not only separates a “this side” from a “that side” but also a “before” and an “after”. This dual nature of the limit is at work in the myth of the founding of Rome. Any limit, any frontier, is intentional: it proceeds from a will; it is never arbitrary. Its legitimacy was originally established by a religious ritual and later, by a political procedure.

If a utopia is a near perfect, or even a demonstrably superior, society, is there anything that endangers that society as soon as it is achieved? Yes. Prosperity! I have shown in “More's Utopia and the New World Utopias: Is the Good Life an Easy Life?”, that the actually existing, “real” New World Utopian communities were severely challenged by success. For example, the vigor of the Jansonite community in Bishop Hill, Illinois (1846-1860) sharply declined when that community met their survival needs and had to deal with surpluses and comfort. As soon as communal efforts and group sacrifices produced prosperity, the attractiveness of communism faded.

If we attempt to unify the theoretical efforts that appreciate a specific social activity in play, we can sketch the perspective of an entire anthropology of play into cohesive parts deriving from the knowledge of collective experience. This preoccupation is, in fact, two-fold. On the one hand is the comprehensive description of the relationship between life styles and their stylizations in everyday practices and customs as well as in cultural works, and on the other are social sensitivities and representations that are relatively shared by individuals grouped in human communities. This very general framework encourages situating the presence of play as one of the concrete manifestations of an emotional core, converting primitively negative impulses into attractive forces which, because of this, becomes the seat of all human interaction and agitation, the energetic heart of social power.

Today there is a great deal of discussion about human rights. We speak of them in reference to totalitarian regimes but also in reference to Western democracies, which is a sign, it seems, of a reconsideration of the legitimacy of the power of the State and the conception of law on which this legitimacy rests. However, we had thought this question had been settled for a long time, at least in democratic countries: a legitimate government is one elected by the people, whose sovereign will it expresses through elected representatives, retained or replaced periodically, who make the laws. In other words, the people are sovereign, and the exercise of this sovereignty is governed by a constitution, according to laws that permit the legitimacy of the State (Rechtsstaat) to be expressed concretely. The doubts that arise concerning human rights in many areas of the world would thus be signs of either a rupture between the sovereign people and the executive or legislative power, to which the people delegate the care of their interests and will, or of a resignation of the popular will, reduced to the condition of a sort of do-nothing king, doubting his own legitimacy and handing his power over to his clerks. In both cases, there is a crisis of confidence and perhaps more: a fundamental skepticism toward the very notion of legitimacy as it is usually presented, that is, as the expression of the will of the people: a capricious will, sometimes docile and sometimes rebellious, of an amorphous sovereign (rex otiosus) that it is difficult to identify in the features of its representatives, (congress, parliament or national assembly) or in the form of a ballot. In any case, the citizen, holder of a small particle of popular sovereignty, feels alienated from the State and its institutions, contrary to what we find in texts before the 18th century, when institutions were surrounded by an apparent, if not always sincere, respect and when the social hierarchy was accepted as a matter of fact.

Over the past three centuries in the West, there has been a sort of oscillation between two antagonistic visions of the world. One sees the world as being fundamentally inert, in such a manner that all hopes, dreams and technological delights are permitted. The other thinks of the world as inhabited by a spirit who consecrates all its parts by recording them in a great whole. We can think of the pantheism that sets itself in opposition to Newton's materialism or, more exactly, to the materialist interpretation given to Newton in the 18th century. In the 17th century the opposite had occurred. The magic universe of the Renaissance had given place to the triumphs of the Cartesian mechanism. As for protestantism, which is said to have been one of the most powerful factors of disenchantment after the 17th century, how was one not to see it prolonged, by reaction, into a philosophy for which nature is the tangible presence of God? When Calvin wrote that nothing happens in nature that is not a direct effect of the divine will, we already see appear in the background the mystic ecstasies that Rousseau experienced in nature. For if no single leaf flutters and no breeze blows without divine intervention, then receiving the slightest sensation would mean, according to Jean-Jacques Rousseau, entering into direct contact with God.

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.

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.