This article compares translation and commentary practices surrounding the texts associated with French feminism with those of contemporary French women philosophers more generally. Many of the latter, discussing the history of philosophy, ask questions such as “How do texts play against the means they supply themselves?” and “How are philosophical forces, and the institutions of commentary, countered, destabilized, deregulated?” Deutscher asks what institutional means are available to understand this work as innovative philosophy, and to what extent these projects can usefully be analyzed as the gestures of women in philosophy.

Françoise Proust explains that where Foucault established a cartography of power, she is interested in elaborating an “analytic of resistance.” This, she elaborates, would be “the transcendental of every resistance, whatever kind it be: resistance to power, to the state of things, to history; resistance to destruction, to death, to war; resistance to stupidity, to peace, to bare life.”

Proust interrogates Gilles Deleuze's notion of resistance in relation to death as that which is “turned against death.” She questions a concept of resistance which is “no more than impassivity and indifference.” How, she asks, can we know if the force of resistance is on the side of death or life? Characterizing life as movement, she speaks for a concept of resistance as on the side of life.

This introduction highlights the place of “interest” in Isabelle Stengers's essay “Another Look: Relearning to Laugh” and considers its importance for feminist analyses of the sciences. Claiming that the positive affects have been underemployed in feminist philosophy of science, it is argued that Stengers's essay shows how criticism in the sciences can be re-animated through interest, excitement, and laughter.

It may be that denouncing the ideals of objectivity or neutrality associated with the sciences leads us into a trap: that of accepting, in order to criticize it, that there would be a common identity for the many ways to produce science. Learning to laugh, we choose to laugh with and laugh at. But we accept the risk of being interested, that is, of giving up the position of a judge.

This introduction highlights two of Mondzain's contributions in the chapter reproduced here, “Iconic Space and the Rule of Lands.” The first is her discussion of a link between images and power, which stresses the formal characteristics of paintings rather than their narratives. The second is her examination of the specific task which representation is called on to perform in religious as opposed to secular contexts, where spiritual, otherworldly figures are given physical shape and form.

In the following extract, Mondzain examines the way in which the spiritual hegemony of the Early Christian and Byzantine church was transformed into political power. The primary tool used in this endeavor was the icon. The representation of the holy figures of Christianity as space-occupying physical beings puts into play a series of spatial operations which aided in the exercise of temporal, imperial authority.

Ross examines the relation between thought and madness within the practical and theoretical wings of Kant's critical philosophy. She argues that the notion of critique is formulated as a guard against the tendency of thought to madness. She locates the significance of David'Ménard's essay on Kant's pre-critical works in the idea that Kant's own tendency to madness functions in these early works as a motivational principle for the mature, critical system.

David-Ménard examines the problem of the genesis of Kant's moral philosophy. The separation between Kantian practical reason and the inclinations of sense which it regulates is shown by the author to originate in Kant's attempt to regulate his own tendency to hypochondria. Her argument links the themes from two of Kant's pre-critical works which attest to this tendency—“An Essay on the Maladies of the Mind” and Observations on the Feeling of the Beautiful and the Sublime—to the final form of the critical philosophy.

Stanley Cavell reflects on the writing of Barbara Cassin in light of his interest in interpreting certain philosophers as “philosophically destructive,” where this destructiveness may in fact be understood as philosophically creative. Cavell suggests that the writings of Austin and Wittgenstein may be considered in these terms, and speculates on the potential interest these writers might have for Cassin. Cassin's call for a rethinking of philosophy might be seen as uniquely essential to the practice of Austin and Wittgenstein.

Soulez's work focuses on the ethical dimension of philosophy manifested in the way in which thought engages and transforms an acting subject on a formal level, beyond what is “said” as such, including any explicitly ethical statements. Wittgenstein's injunction to “silence” on certain ethical matters does not, for Soulez, prevent his being a thinker of the ethical stakes of philosophy, contrary to more orthodox readings of the analytical tradition.

Wittgenstein raises the notion of “conversion” in philosophy through his claims that philosophical understanding is a matter of the will rather than the intellect. Soulez examines this notion in Wittgenstein's philosophy through a series of reflections on the aims and methodology of his philosophical “grammar,” in relation to comparable models among Wittgenstein's contemporaries (Freud, fames) and from the history of philosophy (Saint Augustine, Descartes).

Convinced that logic has a history and that its history always manages to surprise the philosophers, Claude Imbert has devoted much of her work to the study of the Stoic school and of the late-nineteenth-century German logician Gottlob Frege. In the fifth chapter of her book Pour une histoire de la logique, she examines the trajectory of Frege's awareness of what his new logic entails, in particular the way it subverts the project of Kant.

Frege's philosophical writings, including the “logistic project,” acquire a new insight by being confronted with Kant's criticism and Wittgenstein's logical and grammatical investigations. Between these two points a non-formalist history of logic is just taking shape, a history emphasizing the Greek and Kantian inheritance and its aftermath. It allows us to understand the radical change in rationality introduced by Gottlob Frege's syntax. This syntax put an end to Greek categorization and opened the way to the multiplicity of expressions producing their own intelligibility. This article is based on more technical analyses of Frege which Claude Imbert has previously offered in other writings (see references).

Françoise Dastur describes her efforts to practice history of philosophy in a (paradoxically) non-historical fashion. She discusses her concept of the historical, and argues that the only true way to be of one's time is to be against one's time.

How, asks Françoise Dastur, can philosophy account for the sudden happening and the factuality of the event? Dastur asks how phenomenology, in particular the work of Heidegger, Husserl, and Merleau-Ponty, may be interpreted as offering such an account. She argues that the “paradoxical capacity of expecting surprise is always in question in phenomenology,” and for this reason, she concludes, “We should not oppose phenomenology and the thinking of the event. We should connect them; openness to phenomena must be identified with openness to unpredictability.” The article offers reflections in these terms on a phenomenology of birth.

Catherine Malabou is a professor of philosophy at Paris-Nanterre. A collaborator and student of Jacques Derrida, her work shares some of his interest in rigorous protocols of reading, and a willingness to attend to the undercurrents of over-read and “too familiar” texts. But, as she points out, this orientation was shared by Hegel himself. Arguing against Heidegger, Kojève, and other critics of Hegel, the book in which this Introduction appears puts Hegel back on the map of the present.

At the center of Catherine's Malabou's study of Hegel is a defense of Hegel's relation to time and the future. While many readers, following Kojève, have taken Hegel to be announcing the end of history, Malabou finds a more supple impulse, open to the new, the unexpected. She takes as her guiding thread the concept of “plasticity,” and shows how Hegel's dialectic—introducing the sculptor's art into philosophy—is motivated by the desire for transformation. Malabou is a canny and faithful reader, and allows her classic “maître” to speak, if not against his own grain, at least against a tradition too attached to closure and system. Malabou's Hegel is a “plastic” thinker, not a nostalgic metaphysician.

A philosopher formerly based in Zagreb, now at the Université de Paris VIII (Saint-Denis), Rada Iveković explains the genesis of her interest in comparative philosophy, situated in the context of a convergence of Asian, Islamic, and European forms of thought which emerged among certain philosophers in the former Yugoslavia. She discusses the relationship between this area of specialization and her work as a feminist philosopher.