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This was Justice O.W. Holmes addressingat the relationshipbetween law and art.
For Holmes, the law can appreciateartonly afterit becomes a matterof convention
and habit, when art becomes like law. Similarjudicial statementsare not difficult
to find. Here is a court dealing with planning law: 'Certain legislatures might
considerthat it was more importantto cultivate a taste for jazz thanfor Beethoven,
for posters than for Rembrandt,and for limericksthan for Keats. The world would
be at continualseesaw if aesthetic considerationswere permittedto govern the use
of [governmental]power'.2But 'aestheticconsiderationsare a matterof luxuryand
indulgence ratherthan of necessity and it is necessity alone which justifies the
exercise of [governmental] power.'3 Art is radically subjective, while law is
reasoned and objective. In Hegelian terms, law is the combinationof reason and
necessity, art of sensuality and freedom.
These judicial statementsare partof a typically modernapproachto art and law,
exemplified by Kant's criticalphilosophyand its variousre-formulationsby Weber
and Habermas.Modernityreleases three areasof enquiryand action, the cognitive,
the practicaland the aestheticto develop their own specific, internalrationality,in
separateinstitutionsoperatedby distinct groups of experts. Modernlaw is born in
this separationfrom aesthetic considerations.The self in art- as painteror viewer
- is free, desiring,with genderand history.The subjectof law - as judge or litigant
- is constrained,rational,genderless,a persona or mask placed on the body. Justice
must be blindfolded to avoid the temptation of facing the concrete person and
putting individualcharacteristicsbefore the abstractlogic of the institution.4Law
and art are, and must remain, separate.
* CostasDouzinas,ProfessorandHead,Schoolof Law,BirkbeckCollege.Thisis an expandedversionof a
professorialinauguraladdressdeliveredon 9 December,1999.
1 Bleisteinv Donaldson188 US 239, at 251 (1903).
2 Cityof Youngstownv KahnBig Co 112 Ohio St. 654, 661-2, 148 NE 842, 844 (1925).
3 City of Passaic v PatersonBill Posting,Advertising& Sign PaintingCo 72 NLJ 267, 268 (1905).
4 For a detailedpresentationof this argumentsee Costas Douzinasand RonnieWarrington,Justice
Miscarried(Edinburgh:EdinburghUniversityPress, 1995) Chapters1 and4.
C The Modem Law Review Limited 2000 (MLR 63:6, November). Publishedby Blackwell Publishers,
108 Cowley Road, Oxford OX4 1JF and 350 Main Street, Malden, MA 02148, USA.
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This is the modem expression of a much older hostility with which classical
philosophy and religion treated art. Plato excluded art and poetry from his Politeia
and in the Nomoi, he contrasted them with law: '[W]hen a poet or a painter
represents men with contrasting characters he is often obliged to contradict
himself, and he does not know which of the opposing speeches contains the truth.
But for the legislator, this is impossible: he must not let his laws say two different
things on the same subject'.5 Plato praised the mythological Egyptian legislator,
who prescribed acceptable artistic styles and forms, because art can be harmful to
the young. Similarly, the city of Thebes commanded artists to idealise their themes
and punished severely the depiction of ugliness. As Gotthold Lessing put it: 'the
plastic arts in particular - aside from the inevitable influence they exert on the
character of the nation - have an effect that demands close supervision by the law.
If beautiful men created beautiful statues, these statues in turn affected the men and
thus the state and owed thanks to beautiful statues for beautiful men.'6
The Judaic tradition and biblical law are even stricter with art and images. The
second commandment bans the making of 'graven images, or any likeness of
anything.' According to the Jewish theologian and philosopher Maimonides 'the
first intention of the law as a whole is to put an end to idolatry',7 a sentiment
echoed by the early Christian apologist Tertullian: 'Idolatry is the principal crime
of the human race, the highest guilt charged upon the world.'8 The prohibition
initiated a huge campaign against imagery, which affected both Judaism and
Christianity. The overtly political controversies in the Byzantium, between the
seventh and ninth centuries, and during the Reformation reveal deep-seated fears
as to the uses of imagery. According to the iconoclasts, the best images of God are
formed by the divine word in the soul.9 The word and the text are higher, spiritual
expressions of the law. They inscribe themselves in the heart directly without the
interpolation of vision, always open to excess and sin. Pictures seduce the senses
and corrupt the mind, they confuse the copy with the prototype and move emotions
and passions uncontrollably.
After the Reformation and the fusion of secular and ecclesiastical jurisdictions,
these iconophobic ideas became the foundation of the common law. Its force was
based on the celebration of spiritual community, social unity and political
sovereignty and the complementary exclusion of materiality and sensuality, of
enemies without and within, the Romanists and the French, the Egyptians, gypsies
and the Jews, heretics, itinerants and refugees. This strategy of inclusion and
excommunication was organised around an economy of acceptable and forbidden
images which Medusa-like can both fascinate and petrify.10 As the icons were
excluded from churches, figures and imagery were banned from the law. The
image had come to be seen as too worldly, sensual and potentially corrupt and was
5
6
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replaced by the word. The fear of images was now displaced into judicial
hermeneuticsand theirlinkage with languageled to the subordinationof rhetoricto
logic and the elevation of logic into the propermethodof law. It became the fear of
pluralmeanings and interpretations,of diverse, local and informaljurisdictions,of
different logics and particularreasons.
But at the same time, the law did not forget the utility and effectiveness of
carefully policed images. Every iconophilic text is deeply worried about the
possibility of confusion between original and copy and every iconoclastic diatribe
is using the most vivid imagery to combat the evil of images. The law loves and
fears images, it both prohibitsthem and organises its own operationin a highly
spectacular and visual manner. The Reformation and the ascendancy of print
turnedthe legal ritual from total into restrictedtheatre,from trial by ordeal into
trial by argumentand persuasion.Law took a predominantlytextualform, although
its insistence on oral as against writtenprocedureindicates its unceasing hostility
towards anything that may detract from immediate communication or lead to
semanticuncertainty.But despite this internalisationof iconoclasm to the text, the
law continues to struggle with images.
The power of spiritual,edifying icons is celebratedand put into effect in every
courtroom,in the wigs, the robes and the other theatricalparaphernaliaof legal
performanceand in the images of justice that adornour public buildings. The law
arranges,distributes and polices its own image through icons of authority and
sovereignty, tradition and fidelity, rationality and legality. The fear of idols is
encountered in the renunciationof rhetoric and imagery in legal doctrine and
theory, in the claim that reason alone without eloquence and passion can deliver
justice, finally, in the regulation of artistic expression under the laws of public
order,obscenity, copyrightand libel. If the relationshipbetween words and images
is political, the law has been called upon to arbitratethe ancient quarrel.1
It can be argued, therefore, that the modernist approach to the law-art
relationshipis deeply problematic.No radical separationexists between the two
domains and not only dictatorial regimes develop policies on obscene images
and 'degenerate' art. On the contrary, intimate links exist between power, law
and images at various levels. Historically, political powers have developed
elaborate rules about visuality. Some refer to the permissible ways of seeing
power and the law itself but, since at least the Byzantium, law has organised a
global regime of images, an economy of permitted representationsor icons, an
iconomy, and a criminology of dangerous and graven idols or idology. At the
philosophical level, the normative and the aesthetic have always influenced each
other. In the same way that religious and imperial icons founded a speculum
mundi on the absent image of God or King, modernist philosophy
conceptualised the image of law through the key aesthetic category of the
sublime. As a result of these links and influences a peculiar and historically
changing combination of inonoclasm and iconophilia has developed which
amounts to a complex legal administrationof aesthetics and a related aesthetic
organisation of law. Its persistence indicates its structuraland anthropological
character. Law, imagery and their combination play a crucial role in the
constitution of subjectivity. Too much emphasis has been placed in legal
scholarship on law's effect on ideas and language and its operation through
argumentationand logic. But the law has always had also a visual policy and
11 W. J. T. Mitchell, Iconology (Chicago: Chicago University Press, 1986); Pierre Legendre, Dieu au
Mirroir (Paris: Fayard, 1994).
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...
showing
the enemy
The Byzantine holy icon offers a correctiveto the historically simplistic claims
of legal autonomy.The link between law and the image is as old as the world or at
least as old as religion. The Byzantine holy icons are not an unprecedented
religious aberration.Cult icons existed throughoutthe Greco-Romanperiod. They
were symbols of social identity and a community's ideal and were given various
protective roles and responsibilities.The Trojanpalladium was such a heavenly
image which had to be stolen before the Greeks could take Troy. Many Greek
cities fought to acquireit and, accordingto legend, it was taken to Rome and then
to Constantinoplewhere the emperorConstantinehid it underthe famous column
bearinghis statue.The palladia were kept hiddenand punishedthose who daredto
see them. They were often called diipeteis, sent or literallythrownby Zeus. Cicero
describesthe miraculousimage of Ceres in similarterms.It was non humanamanu
factum, sed de caelo lapsam. A few centuries later the protective qualities of the
miraculousimage had been transferredfully to the acheiropoietoi (non paintedby
the humanhand) icons of Christand his mother,the veronicas and holy shrouds.
But the supernaturalpowers of cult icons are an extension only and exaggeration
of a peculiar qualities of all images. Images give visual form to invisible powers
and make present what is absent. The birth of the image must be associated with
the experience of death. Archaic images adorngraves and mausolea, they are an
attemptto defy the traumaof loss and soothe the sadnessof mourning.By painting
the image of the departed,in death masks, on mummies, in funereal sites or the
Roman imagoes, a double or replica is createdand death is defied. The first ritual
12 Theodore Synkellos, 'Sermon on the Siege of Constantinople in 626', in Acta Universitatis de Attila
Joszefnominatae, Acta Antiqua and Archaiologica 12, Opuscula byz. 3 (F. Makk ed., Szeged, 1975)
80.
13 George the Pisidian, Bellum Avaricum in A. Pertusi. Giorgio di Pisidia Poemi, vol 1 Pengerici Epici
(Studie Patristica et Byzantina 7, Ettal 1960) 176.
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images of the Greeks were called eidola, the double or replica of an object. These
archaic idols were dream images and phantoms, apparitions and visitations sent by
the Gods. The simulacrum of the dead who visits the living is called a psyche. In
the Iliad, the psyche of Patroclos visits Achilles and pleads with him to re-join the
battle against the Trojans. At the end of the discussion, 'Achilles held out his arms
to clasp the spirit but in vain. It vanished like a wisp of smoke and went gibbering
underground.' Achilles 'leapt in amazement. He beat his hand together and in his
desolation cried: "Ah then, it is true that something of us does survive even in the
Hall of Hades."'14 In the economy of the eidolon, the image is a double or
reproduction of its object. It does not share only its shape, colour and form but also
its voice, life and soul, all its qualities except for its material existence. It can be
seen but cannot be touched.
These attitudes to images indicate a permanent theme in the theory of the icon
which crosses the divide between representation and its object. Images speak
directly to the senses and affect the psyche, they address the labile elements of the
self and avoid the calming intervention of logos, language and reason. Genesis
records that Jacob's cattle had produced striped and spotted offspring when
exposed to coloured rods during conception (30:37-41). The Church Father
Theodore the Studite repeats and humanises the claim: a woman who saw a black
man during her pregnancy delivered a black child. Artemidorus claims, in his
Interpretation of Dreams, that it made no difference if one saw 'Artemis herself...
or her statue' in a dream, because statues had the same effect 'as if Gods were
appearing in the flesh.'15 Quintillian, the third century rhetor, provides the link
between archaic idols and faculty psychology: 'what the Greeks call phantasiai, we
call visiones, imaginative visions through which the images of absent things are
represented in the soul in such a way that we seem to discern them with our eyes
and to have them present before us.'16
The great art critic Lessing took up these themes. The mothers of Alexander the
Great, Scipio, Augustus and other heroes dreamt during their pregnancy that they
had intercourse with a serpent. Lessing explains that serpents were emblems of
divinity and were commonly presented in statues and images of Bacchus, Apollo,
Hermes and Hercules. These pious and honourable women would have been
'feasting their eyes upon God during the day' and as a result the adulterous fancy
of the snake would visit them in their dreams.17 A consistent theme links pagan and
Christian beliefs on the image. Improper and holy images, snakes and serpents as
well as pious and saintly icons imprint themselves on the imagination and lead
people either to sin, adultery and unnatural couplings or to holy life, spiritual and
political salvation.
These associations were lost to moder aesthetics but are coming back in
postmoderity. One of the reasons for this repression must be sought in the
dominance of the Platonic theory of mimesis. For Plato, the psyche is no longer the
ghostly double of the dead but the living part of the person, while the ghostly and
bewitching aspects of the idol are attributed to all images. The image, twice
removed from the prototype, the idea, becomes an idol in the modem sense. It
deludes and passes itself for what it is not, it imitates the form and shape of its
14 The Iliad (translated by E.V. Rieu, Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1950) XXIII, 72 ff.
15 Artemidorus of Daldis, Das Traumbuch (K. Brackertz ed., Munich 1979) 163-4. Artemis is the
Roman goddess Diana and the many faces of Princess Diana are a good example of power of the icon
in our post-metaphysical world.
16 Quintillian, Institutiones, 6.2.29.
17 Lessing, n 6 above, 15-5.
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model and is thereforefalse. In the dialectic of the same and the other,the eidolon
sharesthe ontological statusof the model albeit temporarilyand works on the axis
of the absent and the present; the icon or image reduced to resemblance is
ontologically different,false, untrue.Presence and absence, original and copy, the
two great oppositions and engines of western metaphysics, are groundedon the
experience of the image.
The great aniconic traditions,the Jewish, Islam and the Christianiconoclasts,
base the prohibitionon images on philosophicalargumentsaroundthese two forms
of the dialectic of the same and the different. It is no coincidence that the Bible
places two key laws about imagery at the centre of the law. Accordingto Genesis
26-27, man is made in the image and likeness of God, he is the Imago Dei, while
Exodus places at the beginning of the Law, the proscriptionagainst imagery. But
despite their surface differences, the two great traditions, the aniconic and the
iconophilic, have also many similarities. For the former, idol-worship and
representationsof divinity based on likeness are prohibited. The Temple in
Jerusalemhides nothingbehind its elaborateveils and curtains.In Japan,only the
Emperorcan enterthe inner sanctumof the main temple, where a mirroris hidden
in a chest. The Kings of Persiawould never be seen by theirsubjects,to whom they
spoke behind a screen. Gods, Emperorsand Kings hide the ultimatesigns of their
power, make them distantand invisible but this occlusion often hides nothing.Non
mimetic signs of the divine are accepted however. The Holy of Holies in the
Jewish temple often hides behind a curtain an image of the Cherubimwho are
God's chariots, a metonymical reference to God. The Byzantine iconoclasts
forbadeall iconic representationsof divinity, but acceptedthe sign of the cross, the
Eucharist and good government as permissible signs of God's presence and of
Christ's plan of salvation. They rejected the ontological link between sign and
model but accepted non-mimeticlikeness.
The iconophilic position, totally opposed to the iconoclasts on the surface,is not
entirely different. Let me start with an instructivestory. Liutpardof Cremona,a
western visitor of Constantinoplein the 10th centuryrelates that EmperorLeo VI,
wishing to test the loyalty and alacrityof the imperialguards,went out one night in
disguise. As he approachedthe palace, he was challenged three times by guards
and claimed that he was looking for a brothel to spend the night. The guards
arrested him twice and twice he bribed them and went free. Finally, he was
arrested,beaten up and put in a cell. When the soldiers left, he asked the prison
guard:'My friend, do you know the EmperorLeo?' 'How could I know him as he
is a man I do not rememberever seeing? Certainlyon public occasions when he
passes by, I have seen him from a distance (for you cannot get close) but I felt I
was looking at a marvel not a man.'18 Similarly,Nicephorusnarratesthat imperial
messangerswere sent to the four cornersof the empireto find a bridefor the young
prince,carryingwith them a portraitof the unknownfutureempress.19How can we
explain these stories?
Romanemperorsfrom Augustusonwardsadoptedan aggressive attitudetowards
the disseminationof their portraits.Diocletian introduced,in the thirdcentury,an
imperialcult which equatedthe emperorwith his portrait.Strictlegal rules granted
to imperial portraits all the honours given to the emperor. They were
18 Quoted in Robin Cormack, 'The Emperor at St. Sophia' in Byzance et les images (Cycles de
conferences du Louvre sous la direction d' Andre Guillou et Jannic Durand; La Documentation
francaise, Paris, 1994) 250.
19 Gilbert Dagron, 'L'image de culte et le portrait' in Byzance et les images, ibid 131.
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21
22
Hans Belting, Likeness and Presence (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1989) 107. The
symbolic removal and destruction of portraits of leaders after the overthrow of a political regime was
repeated again during the fall of communism. Statues of Lenin and Stalin were toppled or disfigured
throughout Eastern and Central Europe.
Quoted in Jaroslav Pelikan, Imago Dei (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1990) 38.
Quoted in D. J. Geannokoplos, Byzantium: Church, Society and Civilisation seen through Contemporary Eyes (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1984) 17-8.
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front of coinage and the sign of the cross at the back. But after God was declared
sovereign, in the seventh century, the image of Christ replaced that of the emperor
and Christianity became the unifying power of the Empire. The iconoclastic
emperors replaced Christ with images of themselves and their ancestors, which
were again removed in 787, after the victory of the iconophiles at the second
Council of Nicaea. The unity of the state was identified with the unity of the faith
and the coin imagery followed the changes in imperial policy indicating the close
link between power, territory and image.
Holy icons followed similar formal patterns. St Paul had argued that Christ
was the natural image of the invisible God (Col. 1:15) a position accepted by
both iconoclasts and iconophiles. The incarnate Christ partakes fully and
perfectly of both divine and human nature. But while the iconoclasts claimed
that this double nature of Christ cannot be circumscribed in icons, the victorious
iconophiles retorted that the incarnation provided an image of God in Christ and
legitimised the production and display of representations and icons of his Son.
But the theology and philosophy of these types of images is fundamentally
different. The theory of the aniconic natural image belongs to theology, which
deals with the reality of God, his eternal and invisible essence. The theory of the
artificial image or icon belongs to economy, a historicised theology, which
through the doctrine of incarnation, deals with the dispensation of God in
relation to all creation, to humanity and to the Church. For theology there can be
no resemblance between God and man. But for economy the incarnation
introduced the transcendent into history by presenting the image of God in
human flesh. The iconophile theorists of divine economy argued that, if Christ is
not represented in icons, salvation is destroyed. Economy therefore assumes two
orders of resemblance. The absolute likeness between Father and Son which
founds all imagery and the relative or formal likeness between Christ and his
icons. But this formal relationship is not one of representation. The icon does not
present Christ but tends towards him, it puts into plastic form the relationship
between human and divine Logos.
The icon does not resemble but imitates, it turns the soul from the material to the
spiritual. It does not aim to persuade through verisimilitude but through the
orientation of the mind from the limited formal likeness of iconic representation to
the absolute likeness of divine affinity. The 'chain of images' which penetrated
every corner of the Byzantine Empire after the end of the iconoclastic
controversies was a highly regulated and hierarchical order, a pyramid of symbolic
and iconic links at the apex of which stood the ineffable Imago Dei. Iconophilic
doctrine staged the transcendent by metonymically indicating spiritual and
absolute likeness through the limited resemblance of iconic representation.
Dionysius the Areopagite, the greatest negative theologian, wrote that revelation
works 'by proceeding naturally through sacred images in which like presents like,
while also using formations which are dissimilar and even entirely inadequate and
ridiculous.'23 Holy icons are such dissimilar similarities, which lift us 'from
obscure images to the single cause of everything.'24
These obscure and paradoxical formulations are the most complete defence of
the claim that visuality is anchored on the desire to perceive the invisible and
ineffable, insight on blindness and light on darkness. If only we lacked sight,
Dionysius sighs, the knowledge of unknowing would be so much easier. But our
23
24
820
Pseudo-Dionysius, 'The Celestial Hierarchy' in Complete Works, 2, 3; col 141 A-C, 149.
Pseudo-Dionysius, 'The Ecclesiastical Hierarchy' in Complete Works, 1, 5; cols 376D-377A, 199.
November 2000]
fallen nature is endowed or damned with the senses of which vision is the
foremost.In the Judaictraditionthe desire to see leads to the pleasuresof the flesh;
in the Christian, imagery becomes productive. By adopting a principle of
aggressive visuality, the iconophiles promoted the imperial aspirations of
Christianity. Christian iconology puts the icon, this most powerful mediating
entity, at the service of political and administrativetasks. Nicephoros presented
this idea starkly:'not only Christ,but the whole Universe will disappearif there is
no circumscriptionor icon.'25The Byzantiumwas the first empireto use aesthetics
to create and propagatean all-inclusive conception of the world. There are two
aspects to this early society of the spectacle. At the collective level, the elaborate
iconography created a sense of identity by providing a set of symbols for the
community to aspire, an ideal with its iconic representation.But its greater
innovationlies at the level of the individualpsyche.
The holy and imperial images offer a complete speculummundi, a total visual
organisationof the world which furnishes the faithful with models of what he
should see, think and dream.The holy icons of the Patriarchact on the world and
save the city, they affect the imaginationand call on the faithful to organise their
lives in imitatio Christi. The faithful would be moved to tears in front of icons
depicting the martyrdomof the saints, to joy at their triumphand to spirituallove
throughthe icons of the Virgin. Fear and tremblingwould be createdby icons of
the Last Judgementwhere Christrewardsthe faithful and punishes the sinners by
consigning them to the fires of Hell. The icon is an aesthetic, moral and political
category; it incites the imaginationto superimposethe individual features of the
face of the beholder onto the schematic contours of its outlined grandeur,to
anticipatein its outline what he ought to become, in the same way thatthe imperial
portraitanticipatedthe futureempress.By linking the orderof vision with a moral
vision and an emerging conception of aesthetic beauty, the Byzantine world
created the most effective way for capturing the soul of the person. After the
Byzantium all empires will be empires of the senses.
We can conclude that the two iconic regimes, despite their surface differences,
include both a moment of darknessand a surfeit of light. The first is based on
invisibility,on hidingthe ultimatebearerof power,God or Emperor,andprohibiting
the exhibitionof his portrait.The orderof images is foundedon an absentimage and
visibility is groundedon blindness.Ultimateauthoritymust be staged in full pomp,
but the seat of powerhides nothing.ClaudeLeforthas arguedthat,in modernity,the
seat of power is empty.26But the iconic traditionindicates that well before the
coming of modernitythe place of power was vacant. Rulers knew this simple and
terrifyingfact and they stagedthe most elaboratesceneryto displaythis most empty
of places. Behind the world of visibility and the systems of representationevery
society establisheslies a publicly displayedsecret. This secret must be both staged
and hidden by priest or King because it is the foundationand guaranteeof their
power.As Louis Aragonput it joining the normativeand the aesthetic'on a fait des
lois, des morales, des esthetiques, pour nous donner le respect des choses fragiles.'27
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31
32
822
Alexis Philonenko, 'Le juste et le beau chez Kant' in 40 Archives de Philosophie du Droit, 'Droit et
Esth6tique', 1996, 56-63.
Costas Douzinas, 'Whistler v Ruskin: Law's Fear of the Image' (1996) 19 Art History 353.
On the iconography of justice see Martin Jay, 'Must Justice be Blind' in Costas Douzinas and Lynda
Nead (eds), Law and the Image (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1999); Robert Jacob, Images
de Justice (Paris: Leopard d'Or, 1994); D. Curtis and J. Resnik, 'Images of Justice' (1987) 96
Harvard Law Review 1727.
Douzinas and Warrington, n 4 above, chapter 4.
Pierre Legendre, Les enfants du texte (Paris: Fayard, 1992) 55.
? The Modern Law Review Limited 2000
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the faculties had momentous consequences for jurisprudence. But Kant was also
deeply interested in the relationship between the law and the prohibition on
imagery. 'Perhaps there is no more sublime passage in the Jewish law' writes Kant
'than the commandment [against images]. This commandment can alone explain
the enthusiasm which the Jewish people, in their moral period, felt for their
religion when comparing themselves with others, or the pride inspired by
Mohammedanism.'33 Kant gives a second example of the sublime in his discussion
of the genius: 'Perhaps nothing more sublime was ever said and no sublimer
thought was ever expressed than the famous inscription on the temple of Isis
(mother Nature): "I am all that is and that was and that shall be, and no mortal has
lifted my veil."'34 This passage appears in the discussion of 'aesthetic ideas' in the
Analytic of the Sublime. They are representations of the imagination which 'strain
out beyond the confines of experience ... and no concept can be wholly adequate
to them',35 'sensible forms', the 'attributes of an object, the concept of which, as an
idea of reason, cannot be adequately presented.'36 The examples given include
poetic attempts to present 'invisible beings, the kingdom of the blessed, hell,
eternity, creation' and the way in which 'Jupiter's eagle, with the lightning in its
claws, is an attribute of the mighty king in heaven, and the peacock of its stately
queen.'37 Kant associates God and the transcendent with invisibility. His two
examples of the sublime are laws against the presentation of divinity.
Kant is making a philosophical and a political point. He is answering the
criticism that, if the ideas the law and of freedom were deprived of sensual
representations, they would lose their 'force or emotion', would be 'attended by
lifeless and cold approbation'38 and would be unable to move people. But not so.
For Kant, the sublime feeling is created as a reaction to the presentation of the nonrepresentable. The imagination casts aside the barriers of the sensible world and, in
this presentation of the non-iconic infinite, it becomes unbounded by the senses.
'For where nothing any longer meets the eye of sense, and the unmistakable and
ineffable idea of morality is left in possession of the field, there would be need
rather of tempering the ardour of unbounded imagination to prevent it rising to
enthusiasm, than of seeking to lend these ideas the aid of images and childish
devices for fear of their being wanting in potency.'39 Kant supplements his position
with a psychological argument closely linked with Reformation iconoclasm.
Images can limit the spiritual powers of the imagination and make people passive.
'For this reason governments have gladly let religion be fully equipped with these
accessories, seeking in this way to relieve their subjects of their exertion, but to
deprive them, at the same time, of the ability, required for expanding their spiritual
powers beyond the limits arbitrarily laid down for them'.40
We find similar ideas in the writings of Edmund Burke, whose empiricist theory
of the sublime stands at the opposite side of Kant's metaphysics.41 Burke develops
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
Immanuel Kant, The Critique of Judgment (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1973) 127.
ibid 49, 146, 160; P. Lacoue-Labarthe, 'Sublime truth' in J. Librett (ed), Of the Sublime: Presence in
Question (New York: State University of New York Press, 1993) 71-108.
Kant, n 34 above, 176.
ibid 177.
ibid 176, 177.
ibid 127.
ibid 127-8.
ibid 128.
Edmund Burke, A Philosophical Enquiry into the Origins of the Sublime and the Beatiful (edited by
J. T. Boulton, Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1958); Reflections on the Revolution in
France (edited by J. G. Pocock, London: Hackett, 1987).
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a political and aesthetic theory which associates the sublime with language and
verbal expression, while the beautiful with vision and imagery. The sublime is the
feeling generated before ineffable, distant, terrifying power. People submit to the
figure of God, King or Father because these patriarchal figures of power are
awesome.42 They make us submit through an overwhelming force which cannot be
fully comprehended. But this political aesthetic of sublimity must be protected
from visualisation. An image or a painting gives a clear idea of its object, leaves
nothing to the imagination and doubt and can be judged according to conventional
criteria of aesthetic beauty. 'A clear idea', Burke remarks pithily, 'is therefore
another name for a little idea',43 a sentiment echoed by Schopenhauer. A wax
model of a human figure in which the 'imitation of nature reaches its highest
degree [leaves] nothing over for the imagination to do ... we are wholly satisfied
with the impression of a work of art only when it leaves something behind, that we,
with all our reflection on it, cannot bring down to the clarity of a concept.'44 The
sublime is obscure, it overawes but also creates intense pleasure in the attempt to
comprehend what overwhelms the mind and defies reason.
Burke uses this analysis to reinterpret the aniconic tradition in a political
direction. Invisibility, darkness and visual deprivation are the political signs of
sublimity: 'despotic governments, which are founded on the passions of man, and
principally upon the passion of fear, keep their chief as much as may be from the
public eye. The policy has been the same in many cases of religion. Almost all
heathen temples are dark.'45 In Burke's hierarchy of the sublime, language comes
before imagery and unwritten law, convention and custom before written positive
law. Saxon customs 'operate[d] better than laws' and provided the basis for later
laws and the Constitution which only fashioned or finished what had been created
by the ancient oral tradition. 'All your sophisters cannot produce anything better
adapted to preserve a rational and manly freedom than the course we have pursued,
who have chosen our nature rather than our speculations, our breasts rather than
our inventions, for the great conservatories and magazines of our rights and
privileges' wrote Burke.46 A visible, written Constitution is 'criminal'.47 The real
constitution is an 'organism, something like a human body, constituted as a
community of senses with distinct powers and privileges, a mixed being of natural
and conventional behaviour, a creature of biology and habit, pleasure and pain'48
preserved by immemorial custom.
Kant and Burke agree that both transcendent power and absolute secular
sovereignty are non-representable and that the proscription on representability is
the most sublime of all laws. The modern sublime is abstract and negative, its
proper form is that of legality and its proper content the proscription on
representation. And not only is the form assumed by God's dislike of images legal,
the law itself cannot be properly represented through 'images and childish
devices.' The absence of icons of the God and of law leads to the creation of the
images of eagles, peacocks and serpents. In a paradoxical fashion, the prohibition
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
824
Burke's patriarchal sublimity is echoed in Freud's totemic myth of the genesis of law and is a key
theme in Pierre Legendre's theory of the 'paternity of law'. See Costas Douzinas, The End of Human
Rights: Critical Legal Thought at the Turn of the Century (Oxford: Hart, 2000) Chapters 7, 11 and 12.
Burke, Sublimneand Beautiful, n 41 above, 63.
A. Schopenhauer, Die Welt als Wille und Vorstllung (Leipzig) Vol 2, 222-3.
Burke, Sublime and Beautiful, n 41 above, 59.
Burke, Reflections, n 41 above, 31.
Edmund Burke, Appeal from the New to the Old Whigs, quoted in Mitchell, n 11 above, 141.
ibid 142.
November 2000]
Quoted in Jacques Derrida, 'Devant la Loi' in Kafka and the Contemporary Critical Performance:
Centenary Readings (edited by A. Edoff, Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1989) 208.
825
[Vol. 63
826
Jacques Lacan, 'The Mirror Stage as Formative of the I' in Ecrits: A Selection (London: Routledge,
1995).
Legendre, n 11 above; Pierre Legendre, 'Introduction to the Theory of the Image' 8/1 Law and
Critique 3, 1997.
8 The
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showed in the words of Oscar Wilde, who was at the opening of the exhibition,
fireworks 'breaking in a pale blue sky, over a large dark blue bridge [Battersea
Bridge], and a blue and silver river'.54
Ruskin's view of Whistler's paintings was published in a series of letters
addressed to 'the workmen and labourers of Great Britain'. Letter 79, entitled 'Life
Guards of New Life', said about Whistler:
For Mr. Whistler'sown sake, no less than for the protectionof the purchaser,Sir Coutts
Lindsay[the ownerof the Grosvenor]oughtnot to have admittedworksinto the galleryin
which the ill-educatedconceit of the artist so nearly approachedthe aspect of wilful
imposture.I have seen, and heard,much of Cockney impudencebefore now; but never
expected to hear a coxcomb ask two hundredguineas for flinging a pot of paint in the
public's face.55
We will concentrate on two characteristic passages, one from the crossexamination of Whistler, by counsel for Ruskin Holker, the Attorney General of
England, and another from his address to the jury. Showing Nocturne in Black and
Gold to Whistler, Attorney-General Holker asked him what it showed. Whistler
responded that it was a night piece and represented the fireworks at Cremorne.
'Not a view at Cremorne?' continued the Attorney General, alluding to the
tradition which treats art as graphic, pictorial representation. 'If it were called "A
view of Cremorne" it would certainly bring about nothing but disappointment on
the part of the beholder' responded Whistler. It was only 'an artistic arrangement'
and for that reason it was called a Nocturne. 'You do not think that any member of
the public would go to Cremorne because he saw your picture?' pressed Holker, to
which Whistler rather dejectedly agreed that his picture would not give the public
'a good idea of Cremorne'. In this mimetic semiotics, 'titles function as captions,
with images illustrating the words' and Whistler's paintings by not offering a
representation of their themes amounted to 'pictorial perjuries' which 'not only
withheld material facts but also bore false witness'.56 The central aspect of the case
concerns the relationship between object and image, in other words, the authorised
meaning of representation, a task transferred from the theology of the icon to the
jurisdiction of the law.57
Holker opened his final address to the all-male jury by asking them to
accompany him on an imaginary visit to the Grosvenor Gallery where the
Whistlers were exhibited.
We would find 'nocturnes','arrangements'and 'symphonies'surroundedby groups of
artistic ladies - beautifulladies who endeavorto disguise their attractionsin medieval
54
55
56
57
828
sources is a fine forensic achievement. Whistler's own account of the trial initially published as the
pamphlet Whistler v Ruskin. Art and Art Critics is now reprinted in his The Gentle Act of Making
Enemies (London: Dover, 1967) 1-89. For a discussion of the case see Douzinas, n 29 above.
ibid 36-7.
Fors 79 (July 1877) in Works of Ruskin, 29:158.
Merrill, n 53 above, 145, 236.
This regulation of the order of representation is a permanent theme of twentieth century law. In the
American case of US v Olivotti (1916), the court, following Holker, introduced a 'representational
test', according to which, art is an 'imitation of natural objects chiefly the human form, and represents
such objects in their true proportion of length, breadth and thickness, or of length and breadth only.'
The test was partially overruled in the case of Brancusi's Bird of Flight (1928) in which the court
grudgingly accepted the development of 'a so-called new school of art whose exponents attempt to
portray abstract ideas ratherthan to imitate naturalobjects' and designated the abstract sculpture as art
because 'it is beautiful and symmetrical in outline, and while some difficulty might be encountered in
associating it with a bird, it is nevertheless pleasing to look at and highly ornamental' and was
produced by 'a professional artist.' For a full analysis of contemporary legal regimes of representation
see C. Douzinas Legal Iconology (forthcoming).
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world, coupled with the fear of image as feminine, sensual, emotional against
reasonand common sense. Ourcase is a good example of law's involvementin the
politics of visuality. It is an early attemptto interposea 'legal screen' between the
subjectand the social gaze, to filter the objects of vision and to determinethe way
in which we see and are given to the world to be seen. According to Kaja
Silverman, who has reworked the Sartreanconcept of the gaze in a Lacanian
direction,the screen is the site at which the gaze is defined at a particularsociety
and is responsibleboth for the way people experience the effects of the gaze and
for the particularityof the visual regime of a particularsociety and epoch.63It
introduces'social and historicalvariabilitynot only into the relationof the gaze to
the subject-as-spectacle,but also into that of the gaze to the subject-as-look'.64As
a collection of authoritativeimages and material practices the screen offers 'a
repertoireof representationsby means of which our culture figures all of those
many varieties of "difference",throughwhich social identity is inscribed'.65The
religious 'chain of icons' was such an institutionalarrangementthrough which
certain representationswere validated and valorised over against others. But the
first and foremost target of the normative screen is representationas such, the
assignmentof certainways of seeing as natural,normalor truthful.Throughthese
historicallychangingimagistic regimes the sensualbody and approvedicons come
together and create what can be called the 'normative'body of the individual,of
the futureempress,of the faithfulimitatorChristi,or the follower of culturalicons,
the Dianas and MotherTheresasof our era.
The war of images involves thereforethree vital anthropologicaltasks. The first
is about the internalisationof absolute otherness and the domesticationof death.
The second organises the field of representation,defines what passes as true or
naturalwith the obvious normativeconnotationsof that designation,while the last
is more detailed,flexible and historicallychanging.It is aboutpositive evaluations
of certain images which fall within the dominant regime of representationbut
additionallyare ascribed a culturallyspecific normativesuperiorityagainst other
and competing ones. The first establishes the human subject;the second is about
what passes as true in a society, the third about what is to be accepted as good or
beautiful. Modern law contributesto all three. It is no surprisethereforethat the
modern order of images is always accompanied by laws and regulations, by a
broad or more detailed code that tells us how to see, what it means to perceive
(aesthesis) and understandthe image, how to link the sign, visual or graphic,with
its signatumand stop its endless drifting.It is this sense, imago est veritasfalsa. As
a creationof law and power, the image is non-natural,false; but as the necessary
supportof our humanity,it is the only truthwe have. In acknowledgingthe ars
juris, the aesthetic dimension of law, we open the institution to the ethics of
otherness and the justice of the senses or of Justitia, the feminine principle of
transcendencethat challenges the patriarchyof sublime Law.
63
64
65
830
Kaja Silverman, The Threshold of the Visible World (New York: Routledge, 1996) Chapters 5-6.
ibid 135.
ibid 19.
? The Modem Law Review Limited 2000