I have very few friends here at Dartmouth, I think. But how will I count?
Perhaps others, who belong to Greek fraternities, can count among their friends, their brothers. But I spend little time, practically none at all, in fraternities. In any case, how would I count so many?
Aristotle declared, "O my friends, there is no friend." Jacques Derrida, in his latest book Politics of Friendship (Verso, 1997), addresses this statement as a political statement in the Western tradition of philosophy. I do not wish to review this book, but relate perhaps -- if one can relate at all -- the question of fraternity and friendship.
And what about women? Do sororities as well instill friendship out of kinship?
To be sure, Derrida stakes out and traces the etymological history of friend against fraternity, and deploys fraternity qua friendship -- as in pre-Christian times -- in a secular, political dialogue. Of course, Greek fraternities, the ones here at Dartmouth, always already retained this Greek etymology. But Derrida reminds us that any notion of friendship in modern times must be excavated, and therefore structured, with piety in mind.
Our question of friendship must be a question of fraternity.
Derrida suggests that Aristotle speaks, perhaps, with one foot already in the grave. A place where "...there is no friend." To be sure, the question of friendship is a question for "the dying sage" -- as Nietzsche precautions us -- a question of life and death. And Nietzsche answers to Aristotle, "'O enemies, there are no enemies!' say I, the living fool." Indeed, the dying sage speaks back to the living fool, demarcating the beginnings of a political discourse.
Nietzsche's seemingly rhetorical answer reminds me of my brother, Steven, with whom I engage, perhaps foolishly, in a sort of politics -- politics of ideology, economy, and territory, as it were. We are brothers in blood and we are friends. And in worse times, as I suspect is the case in many instances of fraternity, we have been, regrettably, enemies.
Derrida does not consider this friend/enemy relationship a binary one, but a political relationship falling to one side, inscribed with uncertainties -- greatly defined by absolute hostility. I'd bet a good beer that Steven would attest that I can be a hostile brother. Derrida probably had something similar in mind.
"O my friends ..." Derrida goes to work here: the question of a friend/brother as a question of the political, and he traces friendship and enmity further. For the sake of economy, we will return to the question of number with this spectre of hostility in mind. How many friends do I have? How many can I have -- certainly a question of time and not of ability. And with time, a reminder: if we draw a circle of friends, we need do so carefully. Friendship is a solemn business.
As an upperclassmen, with one foot in the grave, my time here at Dartmouth is half gone. Hopefully I spent my time wisely, in the company of a few good friends. Perhaps if I belonged to a fraternity the possibility of this number would be greater. But I see, as I divide my time among others, I needn't forget to choose, now and again, for better or worse, in favor of the few.
We begin, as always perhaps, by befriending those nearest to us. I suppose a fraternity, in blood or otherwise, may provide a brother with the advantage of proximity. But even so, in this close proximity or any other our effort is most important: to act the part of a friend.
I am unsure whether the Greek system beckoned to me or not. I turned a deaf ear -- not because I object to the Greek system -- quite the contrary -- because my politics are such that in practice, in friendship, I forget fraternity. Perhaps this is akin to my disregard for politics.
In this territory Derrida reminds me, after Aristotle, to count, or at least to question, those who are my friends. And as I turn to count how many -- but only on the edge of the abyss where my Greek brothers, my brothers in tradition, have gone before me -- making any list an incomplete list at best.
"O my friends, there is no friend." These words return to haunt all fraternities. For us, here at Dartmouth, brothers and sisters of Dartmouth, need we look further than our fraternities and sororities to seek friendship? "O my friends ..." Perhaps. With one foot in the grave.
