Of course, the end of philosophy has long since entered philosophy itself, W. says. We're already finished, we so-called philosophers: hasn't that always been clear? We're already doomed: haven't we always known that?
Our failures as thinkers. Our inability as readers of philosophy, as writers of philosophy. Our defeat by the present, by the forces of the present … We are the clear product of a dying subject, of a subject doomed to failure. We're only the way the end of philosophy understands itself …
We're typical, utterly typical, W. says. We're examples, instances, and nothing more than that.
But then sometimes he wonders whether the extent of our failure might set us apart. Who has failed more terribly than us?, W. wonders. Who has understood the depths of their defeat?
That's what makes us more than types, W. says. That's what singularised us, and made us unlike all the others.
In the end, only we understand the meaning of the destruction of philosophy. Only we live it, that destruction. Only as it is our lives, and nothing other than our lives.
Lars Iyer's Blog 