Michel Foucault

RIC J: Michel Foucault, since your death, you have become an apostle of freedom. How do you explain that ?

MF: For me, there is no society without constraint, without rules (so by definition, unfair), without chains and without limits. Society is the prison of the human soul and we have lost the lightness of our freedom. Hell is the other, said my friend Sartre. This is not so false: the gaze of the other, that is to say, the permanent judgment, is the source and the permanent maintenance of this suffering that is the weight of society. To live lightly, live free!

RIC J: Do you advocate any kind of freedom? Political, religious, sexual?

MF: Mostly sexual! And I think to be a good example it must have no rules, no taboo, no referee. In sex, everything is allowed. It must be the space of freedom par excellence. The ultimate reference. Do everything and, I want to say, with whom we want, here is freedom. Individual and collective. I fuck so I am.

RIC J: On which philosophical currents do you support this theory?

MF: None.

RIC J: Sorry?

MF: None. Why should I justify myself by using the thought of my predecessors? But if you insist, let’s go to the Presocratic side! Heraclitus: we never fuck in the same hole. Parmenides: my dick is the measure of all things. Do you want more ?

RIC J: Thank you, no. How are these philosophical propositions judged?

MF: By my contemporaries, very badly. By yours, even worse! Look at these Puritan idiots in India who flog the couples kissing in public and prevent the celebration of Valentine’s Day. Look at these blessed and hard-to-enjoy ones who want to remove Balthus’ paintings and nude paintings from the exhibitions in the name of the principle of non-consent! Look at those cold piss who want to rewrite the end of Carmen or Cinderella because it seems to them unfair that the woman is pushed to death, or that she is kissed without authorization. Pity. I die a second time. You advocate freedom of ideas, but your behavior is worse than Byzantine iconoclasm or hyper-modest Rome covering dicks with vine leaves and brushing black paint over breasts and vulvas!

RIC J: So, what to do?

MF: Reread me. There is no other solution.

RIC J: Finally, in memory of a Sufi patient, could you define life in just two words?

MF: Darling freedom.

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