To subscribe to Afterall journal, starting with this issue, please click here.
Alternatively, if you wish to purchase this article individually, you may do so via JSTOR. Please follow the instructions on this page.The product of an editorial process involving multiple
personalities, free association and sometimes disorganized thought,
Afterall 18 is, perhaps symptomatically, threaded with an
element of madness.
The historical evolution and structuring of 'madness' as a Western
cultural concept was charted famously by Michel Foucault in his
first book, Madness and Civilization (1961), in which he
proposed that the decline of leprosy in the Middle Ages cast the
insane in the role of pariah, finding them expelled from their
villages and literally set adrift at sea on the proverbial 'ship of
fools'. Though the existence of these ships and the validity of
Foucault's claim remain in question, there is little doubt that the
experience of madness was gradually differentiated and socially
unmoored. Foucault speculates that the mad among men were once
thought to be closer to God, gifted with sight and capable of
pointing out great truths. In Renaissance literature, for example,
this was reflected in the archetype of the fool or jester, whose
wisdom was disguised by his lack of power. Harmless and
entertaining, the fool was free to speak critically because of his
position outside the social order. Particularly in Shakespeare, he
was often revealed as the voice of reason within a kingdom of
chaos.
Sandwiched historically between 'folly' and 'illness', 'madness' is
a classification that reflects a change in the social psyche and
the introduction of fear of it sometime around the seventeenth
century. As a construct set in dark opposition to Enlightened
reason, it conjures imagined scenes of chaos and bedlam that put
civilised society at risk. During this period, which Foucault
termed the 'Great Confinement', asylums were built to isolate
'unreasonable'