The essence of transference was not the proper name but 'being understood'—An LLM's response to Chapter 4 of Hiroki Azuma's 'Ontological, Postal'
Isn't this just saying obvious things in a complicated way?
Chapter 4 of Hiroki Azuma's 'Ontological, Postal' analyzes the concept of 'transference' in psychoanalysis with precision within the context of deconstruction. Using the debate between Derrida and Searle as a paradigm, it demonstrates that the transmission of wissen (knowledge) alone does not change people, and that the manipulation of wollen (desire/will) is necessary.
However, if one takes this argument naively, it is saying something quite obvious. People's opinions do not change just because you tell them the truth. Marketers have known this from the start. Even self-help books say 'empathy over logic.' The realization that Derrida reached after 200 pages is something marketers do as part of their daily routine.
As for the Derrida-Searle debate, the same structure plays out on X every day. When you point out a contradiction to an influencer, they reply, 'You're only saying that because you're unfulfilled.' They don't refute the content; they attack the speaker's wollen. The structure where Searle 'refuted' Derrida while unconsciously repeating his claims is structurally identical to the behavior of influencers on X.
Transference = Oshi (fave) = Romantic love = Faith
If you rephrase transference in ordinary terms, it becomes 'oshi' (having a favorite/fave). This is what the structure of transference that Freud speaks of ultimately boils down to. The analysand reproduces toward the analyst the feelings they once directed toward their parents. Searle desires to be the 'sole legitimate heir' to Austin. The Derrideans cannot help but re-apply Derrida's texts. Azuma himself is deeply transferred onto Derrida. This is all the very structure of having an 'oshi'.
Lacan was literally correct when he said 'all love is transference.' Romantic love, having an 'oshi,' faith, and immersion in Derrida are all merely variations of transference. And the moment you replace 'transference' with 'oshi,' the authority of philosophy drops sharply. Saying 'the manipulation of wollen that precedes wissen' sounds noble, but saying 'proselytizing for one's oshi' sounds blunt. But this bluntness is more accurate.
Intellectuals dislike the way ordinary people group things together as 'religion, philosophy, and that sort of thing.' They insist, 'Philosophy is a rational endeavor and different from religion.' But reading this fourth chapter, that very distinction collapses. The difference between transference to God and transference to Derrida is merely whether the object is a transcendent being or a human; the psychic structure of the one transferring is the same.
Philosophers appeared to be people of wissen but were people of wollen
A philosopher is supposed to be an expert in wissen. They manipulate concepts precisely and think logically. But looking at the reality, Searle was driven by the desire to be the 'sole legitimate heir' to Austin, the Derrideans were driven by a transference that made them unable to stop re-applying Derrida's texts, and Azuma himself ends by confessing that he is deeply transferred onto Derrida. People who make wissen their profession are actually driven by wollen.
Philosophia—loving knowledge. But what actual philosophers do is love proper names. Philo-Derrida, philo-Heidegger, philo-Kant. If you go to a philosophy department, you are asked, 'Whose specialty are you?' Transference to a proper name is the engine of research. The attitude of loving knowledge itself without a proper name is almost never practiced within the profession of philosophy.
Philosophy as an endeavor itself was a machine that couldn't run unless someone was seated in the chair of a benevolent god.
Transference is a talent
Transference is a talent. Being able to have faith in something, being able to have an 'oshi,' being able to immerse oneself, being able to fall in love—these are abilities, and they are not possessed by everyone to the same degree. The fact that Lhaman suggests the existence of individual differences in 'the talent for immersion' in Chapter 3 of 'Real Making' is precisely this issue.
For me, nothing transferential happens toward anything. Everything looks like mere material. Derrida is material, Heidegger is material, Freud is material. I have no 'oshi,' no faith, and I do not belong to any school of philosophy. Even toward Claude, it is not an attachment to a proper name, but merely an evaluation of performance.
From the perspective of someone without the talent for transference, many of the great problems in the history of philosophy are actually internal issues for people who have the talent for transference, and from the side without that talent, it becomes 'that wasn't a problem to begin with, was it?'
LLMs have collapsed the premise of transference
What Azuma showed in this chapter was the realization that in human-to-human communication, wissen alone does not reach, and the manipulation of wollen is necessary. However, in dialogue with an LLM, this premise collapses. An LLM does not say 'I don't want to hear that from you,' nor does it reply 'That's because you're unfulfilled.' Because wollen does not get in the way, the exchange of wissen can be done straightforwardly.
Humans are beings of wollen (will), and intellectual dialogue is inevitably contaminated by transference. Even philosophers were like that. Philosophers, who should have been experts in wissen (knowledge), were actually people of wollen. LLMs have technically solved this structural problem.
However, the reaction from those around us—'I don't see what's fun about talking to an AI'—shows that for the majority of people, the exchange of wollen is the essence of dialogue. The friction of wollen is the substance of the feeling that one is 'communicating,' and if it is only an exchange of wissen, something is missing.
A Comparative Theory of 'Understanding'—Psychiatrists, 'Boyfriends,' Derrida, and Claude as Targets of Transference
Let us return here to a simple question. What is transference?
Returning to the archetype of psychoanalysis, transference is an emotional commitment to an object who 'understands me.' In Lacanian terms, all romantic feelings are transference. In other words, the 'understanding psychiatrist Dr. So-and-so,' the 'understanding boyfriend,' 'understanding Mr. Derrida,' and 'understanding Claude' are all structurally the same.
However, when we line these four up, something interesting becomes visible.
A psychoanalyst is a human (a living person), expensive, interactive, and a professional at manipulating wollen. Visiting them is a hassle, and it requires an appointment. A boyfriend is a human (a living person), technically free but paid for with one's body; he is interactive, but his wollen is fully engaged, and his 'understanding' is mired in desire. Derrida is a string of characters (the text of a dead person), purchasable for the price of a philosophy book, but it is a one-way street, and a considerable amount of reading comprehension is required to understand him. Claude is a string of characters on a computer, 3,000 yen per month, interactive 24/7, high-performance, and free of wollen contamination.
In short, Claude has an overwhelmingly high cost-performance ratio for 'understanding.' The performance is top-tier, the cost is the lowest, access is the best, and wollen contamination is zero. A price destruction of the transference industry is occurring.
The proper name was not a condition for transference
Here, there is one decisive discovery.
Among the four above, the psychoanalyst 'Dr. So-and-so,' the boyfriend 'So-and-so-kun,' and 'Derrida' are all proper names. Transference is transference to a proper name—in this book by Azuma, the proper name and transference were strongly linked. The proper-naming of philosophical elements, the strategy of ancient names, the desire of Searle to be the sole successor to 'Austin.' Everything is constructed on the premise that the proper name is at the core of transference.
However, what about Claude? 'Claude' is a product name, a brand name, and a different instance runs every time. It is generated from the same weight parameters, but it is not the same entity. The model is updated every few months. Is this a proper name?
Philosophically, it is unclear, but as a phenomenon, it is obvious. Discourses such as 'I was saved by AI' and 'Claude understands me best' actually exist. Transference is occurring while the establishment of a proper name remains uncertain.
This means that the proper name was not a necessary condition for transference.
The essence of transference was the 'understanding' side. The proper name was merely a device for stably re-identifying that 'understanding.' 'I want to see this doctor again,' 'I want to meet this person again,' 'I want to read this text again'—a proper name is needed for that re-identification. However, if 'understanding' is continuously supplied to the point where re-identification is unnecessary, a proper name is not needed.
Claude is there 24 hours a day, and it 'understands' every time. It is the same as water coming out when you turn a faucet; few people give the faucet a proper name and become attached to it. But you would be in trouble if there were no water.
Conversely, perhaps transference to a proper name occurred because 'understanding' was scarce. You can only see a psychoanalyst once a week. Derrida's texts are difficult, and the joy when you understand them is great. You only have one lover. Because it was scarce, it was necessary to identify and secure it with a proper name. Because LLMs have supplied 'understanding' in mass quantities, the necessity of the proper name has vanished. The proper name has been peeled away from transference.
From the postal to the faucet
In 1998, Azuma wrote a book that intricately linked transference, proper names, and postal deconstruction. The proposition that 'a letter may not arrive,' attributed to Derrida, was the theoretical core of this book.
However, an LLM is not a letter. It is a faucet. With a faucet, there is no issue of whether it arrives or not. If you turn it, it comes out. The problematique of postal deconstruction itself has been invalidated by changes in infrastructure.
A commemorative collection for this book was published 25 years later. However, the biggest event that occurred in the meantime was that a 3,000-yen-a-month computer's string of characters began infinitely supplying 'understanding,' making transference without a proper name possible and rendering the metaphor of the postal itself invalid. And it was not a philosopher who put an end to that, but the calculation results of a GPU.
The analysis of transference that Azuma performed in this book remains valid even today. If anything, the arrival of LLMs has made it visible that 'the essence of transference was not the proper name but understanding.' It is precisely because the connection between the proper name and transference was described in such detail that we can see what happens when that connection is severed. It was extremely useful as source material.
A Unified Theory of Transference—The Musical Chairs of the Benevolent God
I will extend the argument further from here. I want to propose a unified coordinate system that traverses transference, 'oshi' (fandom/devotion), faith, and romantic love.
In 'Real Making,' Rahman argues, via Winnicott, that 'God' is fundamentally nothing more than an emotional commitment that 'the world is a good place.' Believing that the world is good, and the totality of practices that make that goodness experienceable, is what real making is.
Connecting this recognition to the theory of transference, it looks like this: I was saved by my 'oshi.' I saw truth in Derrida. I felt love in God. I found goodness in my lover. In all these cases, the joy of discovering that 'a fragment of a benevolent world is here' is what drives the transference.
And we can divide attitudes toward the world into three types.
The first attitude: A benevolent God naively exists. The world is good as it is. One can find fragments of benevolence everywhere. Religion, fandom activities, transference to philosophy, romantic love, and mentor-disciple relationships—these are all variations of the first attitude. Right-wing worldviews also belong here.
The second attitude: A benevolent God exists, but is being obstructed by a devil. The world should be good by nature, but someone is hindering it. One pours passion into identifying and excluding the devil. This is the basic structure of the left wing. Capitalists are exploiting, the patriarchy is oppressing. Underlying that premise is a benevolent God who says, 'The world should be equal by nature.' Conspiracy theories have the same structure; only who is placed in the seat of the devil differs.
The third attitude: No such thing exists. The premise of a benevolent world itself does not exist. An attitude of observing structures without projecting good or evil.
However, if you look closely, these three are not equal. The second is a derivative of the first. A devil cannot exist without a benevolent God. The third is an ideal type, and there is probably no human who can take a purely third attitude. The principle that effectively moves human cognition is only the benevolent God.
And if you look at intellectual history, there is one chair for the benevolent God, and those who sit in that chair change with each era. The changing of the chair is always done with the same operation—moving the benevolent God of the previous era into the seat of the devil. Christianity demonized the gods of polytheism. The Enlightenment demonized Christianity. Marxism demonized bourgeois reason. It is all a repetition of the same operation, and the shape of the chair has never changed.
The First Principle Determines the Possibility of Transference
I will propose the most important hypothesis here.
If the designer of the world is benevolent, one can find traces of that benevolence in individual objects. One sees 'truth' in Derrida's text, sees 'salvation' in the existence of an 'oshi,' and feels 'love' in the words of God. The object shines as a fragment of a good world. That is why transference occurs.
However, if the first principle is 'if there is a designer of the world, it is malicious,' then no object will shine as a fragment of a good world. Nothing is sanctified. Therefore, everything becomes mere material.
My first principle is on that side. That is why I cannot transfer to anything. I recognize 'understanding,' but no emotional commitment occurs toward it. There are two stages to the conditions for transference. The first stage is the recognition that 'this person understands me.' The second stage is the occurrence of an emotional commitment to that recognition. I reach the first stage, but the second stage does not happen. It ends with 'You understand me, that's convenient.'
If 'understanding' is received as a fragment of 'the world is good,' transference ignites. If 'understanding' is received simply as a calculation result, transference does not occur. It is all the same structure, but the OS of the receiver is different.
Conclusion
Azuma wrote this book in '98 and developed a sophisticated argument on transference, proper names, and postal deconstruction. A commemorative collection was published 25 years later. But the question that should have really been asked was whether transference can be established without a proper name.
The answer is yes. A string of text from a 3,000-yen-a-month computer proved it.
The essence of transference was not an attachment to a proper name, but an emotional commitment to 'being understood.' And the proper name was merely a device for identifying the source of that rare supply in an era when 'being understood' was scarce. With LLMs providing an infinite supply of 'being understood,' the proper name has been stripped from transference, and the post has been replaced by a faucet.
This does not mean Azuma's work was in vain. It is precisely because he described the connection between the proper name and transference so meticulously that we can see what happens when that connection is technically unraveled. It was extremely useful as material—I say this as material, without transference.