The Kosmos Trilogy Vol. II: Excerpt D

The Look of a Feeling: The Importance of Post/Structuralism

Ken Wilber
October 25th, 2012
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Heidegger and Foucault: Classic Zone #1 and Zone #2 Approaches

An excellent (and extremely influential) example of the basic differences between hermeneutics (zone #1) and structuralism (zone #2) can be seen in the work of Heidegger and Foucault. Although they drew heavily on both zones, they also gave disproportionate weight to one of them, Heidegger focusing most profoundly on the meaning-generating nature of zone #1 and the necessity to get at it from the inside (1p x 1p), and Foucault standing back, in a monological overview, and surveying those events from the outside (3p x 1p) as structures that create worlds. Both were emphasizing the postmodern enactive nature of knowledge—we don’t perceive worlds, we co-create them—but those enactive occasions were approached from within and from without, respectively. Heidegger particularly looked at the “we” from the inside, and Foucault, from the outside—it’s almost that simple.

Dreyfus and Rabinow do an excellent job of summarizing Foucault’s approach and differentiating it from Heidegger’s: “Foucault’s devotion to the description of concrete structures understood as conditions of existence [i.e., structures that create or enact a world] bears a striking similarity to what Heidegger, in Being and Time, calls an existential analytic. But there is an importance difference. For although both Heidegger and Foucault attempt to... relate the ‘factical’ principles which structure the space governing the emergence of objects and subjects [i.e., enact a world], Heidegger’s method is hermeneutic or internal, whereas Foucault’s is archaeological or external. Foucault is explicitly rejecting both Husserlian phenomenology and Heideggerian hermeneutics when he opposes to the exegetical account the exteriority of the archaeological attitude.”13

For those unfamiliar with the world-creating power of intersubjectivity, that paragraph might seem a bit meaningless. If so, there is an example later—about fun things in Kansas—that might help clarify the issues (see “Vertical Outlaws,” Part IV).

In the meantime, what both Heidegger and Foucault are saying is that what naive awareness takes to be a pregiven world (given to everybody and just lying around out there) is actually co-created and enacted by various collective (or intersubjective) networks. I am simply suggesting that those world-creating networks (or “conditions of existence”) can be approached from the inside (a la Heidegger) or the outside (a la Foucault), a fact that Dreyfus and Rabinow recognize in that they themselves point it out.

Needless to say, in my opinion we would not reject (Husserlian) phenomenology or (Heideggerian) hermeneutics in favor of archaeology/genealogy, as Foucault attempted to do, but rather include all of them (in their adequate forms) in any integral methodological pluralism, inasmuch as they are all highlighting important dimensions of the native or indigenous perspectives of being-in-the-world. We will see why Foucault attempted to reject the interior approaches of both Husserl and Heidegger; and see also that what he was really doing was emphasizing the zone #2 aspects not adequately incorporated by either of them, with the final remedy being an inclusion of all of them, not a food fight between them.

Foucault’s work had many features, but it always focused on varieties of intersubjective networks and their power over individuals. Whether systems of discourse (epistemes) or systems of nondiscursive practices (dispositifs), these “vast anonymous networks” are responsible for a good deal of the co-creation of the world that naive consciousness takes to be given. Never has the social construction of reality found a more persuasive advocate than Foucault (even if, in its extremes, it turns on itself and needs to be shorn of its absolutisms); still, whatever one happens to think of Foucault and his work, after Foucault it is simply impossible for intellectuals with integrity to ignore the power of zone #2 and its indelible mesh in human consciousness.

Nothing can more thoroughly shake your notions of truth, goodness, and beauty than a sustained look at what previous cultures have said about them. This was Foucault’s strength, an unrelenting and meticulous look at what previous (“archaeological”) cultures authoritatively stated concerning notions of health, sickness, truth, goodness, right, and wrong, the vast majority of which change almost as often as hem lengths in fashion. As one psychiatric specialist put it after reading an early Foucault treatise on mental illness: “Well, if what he writes is correct, our discipline has no truth at all.”

As I tried to suggest in Integral Historiography, there are two basic responses to the dizzying cavalcade of truth through the ages: one can dissolve everything into a pluralistic relativism (which, as soon as you assert that it—that pluralistic relativism—is the correct response, becomes a performative self-contradiction), or you can get sober and start looking at the developmental patterns that this unfolding evolution displays (in which case you are involved in genealogy)—those are the two main roads through postmodernism. Foucault had a hand in each, but he never ceased looking for an integrative framework that would include the important if partial truths of both.

Thus, after analyzing the shifting, culturally relative aspects of knowledge, Foucault invariably examined the constant or universal components of knowledge that would allow such relativism. For example, if we say that all knowledge is socially constructed and context-dependent (and hence all knowledge will change from culture to culture), that claim itself is a universal claim. It is claiming something that is true for all knowledge everywhere. That claim itself is not relativistic, not pluralistic, not interpretive, but rather claims to be universally true for all peoples, in all cultures, at all times. Cultural pluralism, in other words, is a universalist theory of knowledge. Thus, if you are going to assert that various cultures have different values, truths, and knowledge, then you must outline a theory of knowledge about why and how that can happen. Most postmodernists gleefully pointed out the first or relativistic part, but then catastrophically missed the second part. Foucault acknowledged and addressed both, another of his many strengths.

(This is why, in the wake of adequate genealogy, every comprehensive metatheory about anything must have a component that explains why and how the notions of truth, goodness, and beauty themselves evolve and change, while also showing various types of continuity, and this must apply to the metatheory itself. AQAL metatheory explicitly does so, by formulating items such as Kosmic habits, evolutionary emergence, transcend-and-include, post-metaphysical structures of being and knowing, tetra-enaction, and so on.)

Foucault accordingly had one major project in all of his work: he meticulously researched and documented historically shifting notions of truth, goodness, and beauty, and then asked, what is it about knowledge that everywhere allows this to happen? What are features found in all knowing that allow so much of it to shift? During his illustrious career, he came up with three major answers, all of which involved important and enduring contributions: archaeology, genealogy, and interpretive analytics.

We will be briefly discussing each of those as we go along, noting their important role in any integral methodological pluralism. The central question is always: how is it that various epochs allowed certain items to be “true,” and disallowed, marginalized, or suppressed other truths? In his archaeology period, Foucault focused on verbal discursive patterns (or epistemes) that governed what could be legitimately discussed; in his genealogy period, on various nonverbal or nondiscursive practices that governed “truth”; and in his interpretive analytics, a way to integrate these various strands.

In his early work, Foucault highlighted the unfolding of various epistemes (or cognitive worldviews) that implicitly and unconsciously molded consciousness. An episteme determines both “what can be seen” in the world and “what can be known” about it. An episteme, according to Foucault, is “the total set of relations that unite, at a given period, the discursive practices that give rise to epistemological figures, sciences, and possibly formalized systems [of knowledge].” Note, as always, the holism of the structures. These epistemes are not usually conscious to those whom they govern, but rather can be unearthed by neostructuralism/archaeology precisely because of its distancing (3p) component. Foucault later emphasized that discursive (or verbal) networks are embedded in nondiscursive (or nonverbal) social practices (such as body language, the physical shape of a prison, sexual practices, the hidden power-structures of knowledge, the unspoken rules of syntax). As we have often seen, a paradigm is not a theory but a social practice underlying theories; thus, we could say that Foucault went on to analyze various paradigms (dispositifs) underlying various theories (epistemes), especially as evidenced in different periods of human history.

For example, in Madness and Civilization, Foucault outlined four major phases of the “discourse on madness” in the West from the Middle Ages to the modern era: from the sixteenth century (“wise fool”), to the classical period of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries (“madness versus reason”), to the nineteenth century (“madness as medical illness”), to today (a “doubling,” with madness and genius ironically intertwined). In each of those periods, a dominant episteme (“discursive mode” or worldview) governed the types of things (and knowledge of things) that could arise in the first place; those epistemes themselves were coherent wholes or collective structures that related various parts to each other in such a seamless way that the world thus co-created seemed to be there from the start.

(In the terms of AQAL metatheory, the allowable discourse in any period were those types of statements that were internal to the regnant nexus or collective network-agency regulating communicative interactions, networks without which communication cannot occur at all, but networks that therefore screen out or marginalize all discourse taken to be peripheral by the network. In the example about Kansas that we will discuss in more detail later, what happened was that a town in Kansas recently banned the teaching of evolution; this means that serious discussions or “discourse” about the scientific theory of evolution are not allowed, they do not fit the prevailing episteme, they do not follow the law—and hence, they are outlawed—so that the regnant nexus of the political “we” of the town now marginalizes, excludes, or oppresses any discourse on evolution. This is classic Foucault, an examination of the process of translative legitimacy as it applies to verbal-discursive behavior: what is allowed, and what is outlawed, when it comes to what you can talk about without getting disciplined and punished by the “we.” Foucault, of course, was interested in helping to free us from the power of these marginalizing discourses, discourses that can only be spotted by zone #2 methodologies. We will return to this emancipatory power of structuralism in a moment.)

Foucault was approaching these collective interior events from the outside, in a stance of third-person looking, as contrasted to both Husserlian phenomenology and Heideggerian hermeneutics, which, for all their own significant differences, were attempting to maintain, with regard to interiorities, an inside stance of first-person touching (singular or plural, intentional or cultural, subjective or intersubjective, “I” or “we,” phenomenology or hermeneutics, respectively.). This is why, in the above quote, Dreyfus and Rabinow point out that “Foucault is explicitly rejecting both Husserlian phenomenology and Heideggerian hermeneutics….” Foucault himself stated that the cultural archaeologist isolates statements “in order to analyze them in an exteriority.... Perhaps we should speak of ‘neutrality’ rather than exteriority; but even this word implies rather too easily a suspension of belief, whereas it is a question of rediscovering that outside in which, in their deployed space, enunciative events are distributed.”14

What Foucault was conveying is that, using the third-person dimensions of being-in-the-world that are highlighted with neostructuralism (the 3p of the “3p x 1p”), one could indeed get at aspects of the enactive, world-making nature of knowing that one cannot see or feel using other perspectives. These enactive structures (epistemes and dispositifs) are, according to AQAL metatheory, how intersubjective or cultural (first-person plural) occasions look when viewed from the outside in a 3p stance from the yellow wave or higher.

Thus: “Foucault and the hermeneuticists agree that practices ‘free’ objects and subjects [i.e., social practices co-create or enact subjects-that-know as well as objects-that-are-known, and they do so] by setting up what Heidegger calls a ‘clearing’ [worldspace], in which only certain objects, subjects, or possibilities for actions can be identified and individuated. They also agree that neither the primary relations of physical and social causality, nor the secondary relations of intentional mental causality can account for the way practices free entities. But they differ fundamentally in their account of how this freeing works. According to the hermeneuticists, who describe the phenomenon from the inside [hori-zone #1], nondiscursive practices ‘govern’ human action by setting up a horizon of intelligibility in which only certain discursive practices and their objects and subjects make sense. Foucault, the archaeologist looking from the outside [hori-zone #2], rejects this appeal to meaning. He contends that, viewed with external neutrality, the discursive practices themselves provide a meaningless space of rule-governed transformations in which statements, subjects, objects, concepts and so forth are taken by those involved to be meaningful.... The archaeologist studies mute statements and thus avoids becoming involved in the serious search for truth and meaning he describes.”15

Notice several items immediately.

(1) Foucault and Heidegger agree that the world is not given but co-created or enacted by the types of inquiry (practices, paradigms) used by individuals who engage that world. They also agree that, although these practices include verbal and discursive aspects, they also involve “nondiscursive practices,” or the almost infinite number of ways that human beings interact that are not merely verbal (from everyday interactions, to body language, to the physical shape of a school building, to the unspoken rules of etiquette, etc.).

(2) Most significantly, note that “they also agree that neither the primary relations of physical and social causality, nor the secondary relations of intentional mental causality can account for the way practices free entities.” In other words, they both agree that this enaction (or world-creating) cannot be fully explained by “physical causality” (which is the Upper Right), by “social causality” (which is the Lower Right), or by “mental intentionality” (which is the Upper Left), but rather must also be explained by varieties of cultural background and intersubjectivity (which is the Lower Left and represents the postmodern breakthrough insight, which we summarize by saying that all holons have a Lower-Left quadrant, or that all occasions are tetra-enacted).

(3) From that agreement point, their paradigms diverge, depending upon which specific indigenous perspective or hori-zone they inhabit when they launch their social practice of inquiry. Heidegger and the hermeneuticists attempt to stay as close as possible to the insides of the interiors, elucidating the semantics and the meaning-horizons of intersubjectivity (or the ways that our intersections generate meaning for each other). Foucault, following the pioneering structuralists (which he updates into neostructuralism), wants to get outside of those meaning-events and see if he can’t spot something that you cannot see if you are too close to the phenomena; he therefore chooses a “3p of 1p” (zone #2) instead of a “1p of 1p” ( zone #1).

(4) Because both of them are still focusing on the communal holon, note the striking similarity in both of them in the search for the nexus-agency (or the regnant nexus) governing the intersections of individuals in a cultural worldspace. For the hermeneuticist, as Dreyfus and Rabinow point out, “nondiscursive practices govern human action by setting up a horizon of intelligibility in which only certain discursive practices and their objects and subjects make sense.” The hermeneuticist, operating within zone #1, is looking for the shared horizons of meaning that govern (i.e., regnant nexus) the types of interactions that will make sense to individuals in the first place. Foucault, on the other hand, dispenses with the insides of those event horizons and looks at them from the outside instead, so he is not concerned with their semantic but their syntax, not their feel but their look, not their meaning but their observed-structure—yet he is still looking for the regnant nexus, but this time described from without, not within. Hence, as Dreyfus and Rabinow explain, “Foucault, the archaeologist looking from the outside [zone #2], rejects this appeal to meaning. He contends that, viewed with external neutrality, the discursive practices themselves provide a meaningless space of rule-governed transformations in which statements, subjects, objects, concepts and so forth are taken by those involved to be meaningful....”

Thus, Foucault is particularly involved in the search for the regnant nexus of those interactions—he is looking for the “rule-governed transformations in which statements, subjects, objects, concepts and so forth are taken by those involved to be meaningful....” Those “rule-governed transformations”—much like the rules of chess or the grammar of native languages—are the regnant nexus of the cultural intersections involving those phenomena, a nexus that therefore governs the intersections internal to the nexus, and an interior nexus that the hermeneuticists are looking at from the inside and the neostructuralists from the outside.

Needless to say, for any truly Integral Methodological Pluralism, both of those modes of inquiry—hermeneutics and structuralism—grounded as they are in various displays of a calculus of indigenous perspectives, are indispensable. The main problem with any of these approaches occurs only when they suppose that they alone have the total story. Shorn of their absolutisms, however, they bring their extraordinary gifts to the integral banquet, a feast that would be so much less without them.


The Unfinished Project of Postmodernity

Foucault’s approach has been called a “double phenomenology,” in that he bracketed not only the truth of a statement but its meaning as well. In Excerpt C, we saw that phenomenology appropriately dispenses with questions of whether a mental image corresponds to some sort of concrete sensorimotor event, like a rock, and instead focuses on the texture of the mental event itself and its own felt-meaning, whether or not it has an exterior referent. Foucault went one step further and dispensed with even that; hence, “The archaeologist studies mute statements and thus avoids becoming involved in the serious search for truth and meaning he describes.” As useful as that approach is, the question sooner or later becomes, just how far can you stand back from anything? That is, at what point does Foucault’s approach move from “true but partial” into an absolutism—a zone absolutism, in this case—that starts rendering itself not only self-contradictory but monstrous?

The history of Foucault is a history of postmodernism in a nutshell. Now that the dust has settled, now that the absolutisms of postmodernism have been exposed, and now that postmodernism itself is beginning to adopt a smaller, more accurate self-image—and, as always, with 20/20 hindsight—it is becoming much clearer what partial truths were embraced, what absolutisms were exalted, and what remedial measures are helpful in rescuing the enduring if partial contributions of postmodernism. It is also clear that the one genius of recent postmodernism was Foucault. Even when someone like Habermas, in The Discourse of Modernity, engages Derrida, it is obvious that Habermas is unimpressed (ditto the likes of Lyotard, Deleuze, Lacan); but when Habermas addresses Foucault, he jerks alert; he approaches Foucault as one might approach a cobra: Foucault was simply brilliant—and dangerous—when it came to elucidating the extraordinary power that social practices have in molding what we call truth, meaning, and knowledge. After Foucault’s contributions, no one can ever take intersubjectivity for granted. One must come up with a coherent explanation of the various types of cultural nexuses with which individuality is enmeshed (or the ways that subjectivity is entrained with intersubjectivity), or reveal oneself as hopelessly pre-postmodern.

(This is especially important in any post-metaphysical approach, in that postmodernism’s contribution to post-metaphysics is an elucidation of the ways that intersubjective networks co-create or enact worlds, worlds that metaphysics mistook to be pregiven.)

Foucault’s trajectory is the trajectory of postmodernism: from structuralism (which really started it all), to neostructuralism, to post-structuralism, to a wobbling between poststructuralism and hermeneutics, to an attempted (but never quite completed) synthesis of hermeneutics and neo/poststructuralism.

It was structuralism—in its early, pioneering, and now largely outmoded form—that nevertheless first made it starkly obvious that individuals (subjectivity and intentionality) are following cultural patterns that are not apparent to the individuals so governed. Even if the form of pioneering structuralism is no longer adequate, that conclusion is accepted by all schools of postmodernism. The simplest example is language and the rules of grammar, rules that every native language speaker follows without realizing it. Structuralism—precisely because it looked at systems, webs, and entire networks of interiorities (structuralism is holistic culturalism)—immediately noticed that individual “subjects” were actually something of puppets whose strings were being pulled by what Foucault famously called “a vast anonymous system without a subject.”

What the neo/structuralists meant by that statement has often caused confusion, so let me give a simple example. Let’s assume that Spiral Dynamics is a fairly accurate depiction of the values line. If somebody is “coming from” the blue value meme (or blue vMeme), much of what they are saying is actually governed by that blue structure itself, and in many ways what they are saying is therefore predictable, at least in outline. What is coming out of their mouths is in part the blue structure, not their own thoughts—which is why neostructuralists would say, for example, “It is language that speaks, not individuals who speak.” The blue structure is “anonymous” and “without a subject,” because it is similar in all subjects. So it is the blue structure speaking, not the person, and the blue structure is a “vast anonymous system without a subject.”

Thus postmodernism would begin to speak of “the end of the subject,” “the end of man,” “the end of intentionality” (and even a “phenomenology to end phenomenology”), all of which were set in motion by early structuralism, which had discovered that individual subjectivity (or the Upper-Left quadrant) is set in cultural fields and networks (of the Lower Left) whose regnant nexuses are calling many of the shots.

The instabilities and inadequacies of early structuralism immediately gave way to two successors: neostructuralism and poststructuralism. Foucault had a hand in both. He pioneered neostructuralism, which took the fledgling insights of structuralism and reworked them in a much more adequate fashion (e.g., The Archaeology of Knowledge). Poststructuralism, on the other hand, had begun its own meteoric rise, which Foucault had also helped pioneer with his explorations of the ways that interiorities do not appear to be anchored in any exteriorities at all, but appear to be following nothing but the various tropes of language as it plays with itself.

Where neostructuralism had retained at least a semblance of grounding in the sensorimotor or exterior world—such that signifiers had some sort of contact with objective referents—poststructuralism severed that connection altogether and found only chains of sliding signifiers that had no referent apart from their own desires.16 Poststructuralism, a bit carried away with itself, attempted so aggressively to deny interiority that its famous “sliding chain of signifiers” soon became indistinguishable from a bad form of systems theory—poststructuralism had slid from zone #2 into zone #4: merely a 3p of 3p, surfaces of surfaces, shadows of shadows, with no interiority, no depth, no culture and no consciousness.

The result of the postmodern slide was famously stated by Bret Easton Ellis as, “Surface, surface, surface was all that anyone found...,” which one reviewer summarized as, “Everything reduced to the flattest surface.... There is no within.” The nihilism and narcissism of extreme postmodernism, pluralism, and poststructuralism, especially in their deconstructive forms, increasingly came to the fore, eventually dominating academic discourse and ironically marginalizing alternative modes of discourse (ironic in that the postmodernist pluralists ended up exemplifying the marginalizing activity that they attacked). The postmodern poststructuralists all started sounding the same, as out of their mouths came the green meme, a vast anonymous system without a subject.

Foucault himself, as the bona fide genius in the postmodern parade, could be counted on to pick up the pieces and reweave them into something of enduring value, which he began to do in the last or third major phase of his work, where he circled back on various too-hastily-rejected truths and attempted to assembly them a sturdier framework—from archaeology/structuralism to genealogy/neostructuralism to ethnics/integrative. 17

In Foucault’s earlier work, especially the archaeology, he bracketed both truth and meaning (“double phenomenology”), and he consequently was himself disdainful of anything resembling “depth” or “interiority” language. His double bracketing (“a phenomenology to end phenomenology”) therefore was excluded from depth and interpretation from the start: just the exteriors. Nonetheless, the sciences that he saw as beginning to escape the “Age of Man” and “humanism” were precisely those sciences that began to reintroduce the notion of depth and interiority—psychoanalysis, ethnology, linguistics.

(“Humanism,” by the way, was criticized by all postmodernists because it pictured an individual as the bearer of intentionality, will, and responsibility, whereas structuralism was beginning to show that much of those allegedly individual items were in fact molded by cultural nexuses of which the individual—and humanism—were largely unaware. Humanism, for example, would see a pluralist as operating from his own free will and choice, whereas neostructuralism would see the pluralist as voicing a vast anonymous system without a subject, principally the green meme. Thus, humanism had no way to get at the implicit, background, intersubjective, power-structures and expose them to a deeper emancipation: humanism could only produce green-meme individuals who naively assumed responsibility for their own actions, and thus humanism could never free individuals from the green meme itself.)

As Foucault moved from archaeology and genealogy to ethics, he began an attempt to integrate both hermeneutics and neostructuralism into a more judicious use of “understanding from the inside,” or a reconstructed hermeneutics: his approach at that point has been called interpretive analytics, which is a wonderful phrase that captures his attempted integration of zone #1 (interpretive: from the inside) and zone #2 (analytics: from the outside).

But even when Foucault was rejecting interiority as a methodological ploy, he nonetheless had his own versions of it (or else he couldn’t have formed any sort of judgments in the first place). He himself describes his approach thus: “Whereas the interpreter [i.e., the disdained hermeneutics] is obliged to go to the depths of things, like an excavator, the moment of interpretation [his genealogy] is like an overview, from higher and higher up, which allows the depth to be laid out in front of him in more and more profound visibility; depth is resituated as an absolutely superficial secret.”

Foucault’s exterior approach, his bracketing of truth and meaning, his confinement to “mute” statements (monological), his “happy positivism”—these are all maneuvers of a zone #2 methodology starting hazardously to slide into zone #4: just the surfaces in cascading systems of 3p place markers. Even into his genealogy phase, “Genealogy avoids the search for depth. Instead, it seeks the surfaces of events....” Postmodernism had slid into its nihilistic endgame: endless surfaces that could not account for their own existence, nor even allow them.

As Foucault came to realize, cultural archaeology/genealogy is a legitimate endeavor, but it cannot stand alone. That approach by itself is deeply contradictory and self-annihilating: since it brackets meaning and truth altogether (truth is merely something so-labeled in a discursive system, or so employed in service of power), then this approach itself cannot claim that it is true. It hovers above the ground with no reason to be taken seriously. Foucault accordingly came to see that it has to be supplemented with a more balanced view that includes not only nondiscursive social practices but also hermeneutic interiors (or, at the least, a better interpretation of interpretation). Dreyfus and Rabinow: “What Foucault offers in The History of Sexuality is an incisive example of what a better interpretation looks like.” As Gilles Deleuze would remark, Foucault came to “thinking of the past as it is condensed on the inside”—and not merely the outside, as the extreme exteriority of his previous work thought. Dreyfus and Rabinow conclude that Foucault’s approach at this point—“interpretive analytics”—was an uncompleted project: “Foucault owes us an interpretive description of his own right way to do interpretation. He has not provided us one yet.” Alas, his death removed that possibility.

Still, it is easy to see the direction in which he was headed. The whole point of a zone #2 approach is that, indeed, human action cannot be adequately accounted for by any combination of “mental intentionality” (UL), “physical causality” (UR), or “social causality” (LR), but must be supplemented with an understanding of the fields and networks of intersubjectivity (LL). That necessity bids us stay close to the intersubjective interiors that are being elucidated; therefore, as much as we might rely on the “3p” component of any “3p x 1p,” we simply cannot forget the “1p” itself, nor the methodologies that address those first-person realities. The only thing that keeps zone #2 structuralism of any sort (early, post, neo, integral) from sliding into zone #4 systems theory is its anchoring in interior phenomena, and thus any adequate structuralism has to acknowledge, honor, and anchor itself in zone #1.

Foucault came to see that both zone #1 and zone #2 are important, hence interpretive analytics. “This new method,” comment Dreyfus and Rabinow, “combines a type of archaeological analysis which preserves the distancing effect of structuralism [the exterior, objectifying, 3p component], and an interpretive dimension which develops the hermeneutic insight that the investigator is always situated and must understand the meaning of his cultural practices from within them [the interior, intersubjective, 1p component supplied by zone #1].”18

And so it came about, in this wonderfully fractured fairy tale, that Foucault himself, after having led the wild goose chase of postmodern poststructuralism, circled back again to the enduring contributions of an adequate structuralism, which means, a third-person approach to first-person realities that actually honors both the third person and the first person, both of whom are, in the last analysis, sentient beings to be trusted.

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