Jules Leotard ascends a rope ladder to the platform, and grasps the first of three trapezes, suspended over a carpet-covered "safety" catwalk.

      Wittgensein: Look, it's a meta-linguistic text, we can all see what he intends. (He leaves)

      Derrida: Yes, it's a dishonest pursuit of certainty.

      Barthes: A zero degree of sense.

      Derrida: No, I mean that Logocentric stuff about "The Flying Man", when there's a good chance he might fall. Nothing is certain, because if it were, it would exclude 'the other'.

      Lyotard: Yeah. Let's hear it for the differend! (Aside) Which one is the differend, Leotard or gravity? It's usually more obvious.

      Foucaullt: It depends which one has the power.

      Derrida: Let's look in the programme. There's nothing outside the text, and it says here he will fly.

      Leotard: And I will if I get the chance.

      Derrida: Wait, Monsieur Leotard, you cannot do it. Nothing is real because everything is only a cultural, linguistic or historical construct.

      Leotard: You come up here and say that.

      Foucault: You have the high ground because of an episteme. You have the power. You are white, male and sane.

      Leotard: Thank you. Now I shall leap from this trapeze without a safety net.

      Foucault: OK Leo, I admit you must be mad. You are legitimate.

      Lacan: Hey, Jules, don't forget the unconscious is structured as a language.

      Leotard: Shut up. I'm trying to think.

      Lacan: Exactly. But, what about your gender signifier?

      Leotard: It's tucked into my leotard.

      Freud: Oops, you nearly slipped.

      Bakhtin: Let the Carnival commence!

      Saussure: Carnival signifies Clown, which signifies Idiot, which signifies a waste of time

      Bakhtin: I wouldn't be so sure if I were you.

      Saussure: Well, um, actually, you would be Saussure.

      Bakhtin: That's it. I'm outa here. (He storms off to sit in the cheap seats.)

      Hazlitt: Excuse me, gentlemen, may I say a few words?

      All: No, because you're English, you're a writer, you're lucid, and you're a liberal humanist. Come back later.

      Leotard: I'm getting scared.

      Lyotard: Just pretend you can fly.

      Leotard: But it's just a delusion.

      Lyotard: But, a delusion can last a long time. How long is your act?

      Leotard: Twelve minutes. It'll never work.

      Lyotard: Don't be skeptical towards your meta-narrative, that's my job. Do you think you'll make it?

      Leotard: Yes, I think so.

      All: We think you don't think so.

      Leotard: I think you actually think I think so.

      All: We think you think we don't think you think so.

      Leotard: That's just your theory.

      All: Precisely.

      Leotard: If you'll excuse me, I have a trapeze to catch.

      Saussure (aside): He means a syntagmatic plane to signify

      And so on.

      The human race advances by mutations. Individuals and societies move in fits and starts, setting new standards, opening new possibilities for the rest of us. Inventors, explorers, philosophers, mystics, scientists, artists and children are among the names we give to the research and development branch of humanity. Lyotard was a philosopher, and Leotard an artist/inventor/explorer. Lyotard provoked thought and political action, but also criticism and argument. Leotard provoked awe, wonder and inspiration, but little controversy.

      In common, they both stepped off a safe platform, attracted attention, generated imitation and opened new territory for their followers. Each is fondly remembered by those who study his field. Each may be unacknowledged by the wider public who benefit from their daring initiatives.

      William Hazlitt, who never saw Leotard, did see Richer,

      the famous rope-dancer, perform at Sadler's Wells. He was matchless in his art, and added to his extraordinary skill exquisite ease, and unaffected natural grace. I was at that time employed in copying a half-length picture of Sir Joshua Reynolds's; and it put me out of conceit with it. How ill this part was made out in the drawing! How heavy, how slovenly this other was painted! I could not help saying to myself, "If the rope-dancer had performed his task in this manner, leaving so many gaps and blotches in his work, he would have broke his neck long ago"[31]

      Talking about "The Indian Jugglers," but, metaphorically I suggest, for writers and philosophers, he says,

      Danger is a good teacher, and makes apt scholars. So are disgrace, defeat, exposure to immediate scorn and laughter. There is no opportunity in such cases for self-delusion, no idling time away, no being off your guard (or you may take the consequences).[32]

      Are philosophy and action mutually exclusive? Can we imagine a composite of Lyotard and Leotard, an artist of action who is also a creative philosopher? Explorers and mountaineers are often reflective, perhaps inspired by solitude and epic endeavour. Will Rogers, the American cowboy rope-spinner, political commentator and fireside philosopher managed the combination. Saint-Exupery, early aviator, writer, philosopher, who like Glen Miller, simply disappeared in flight, combined radical action and deep thought. Hemingway, who saw himself as an action man, certainly explored the subject, and spoke of the perfect form of the bullfighter as "grace under pressure," which is what Lyotard certainly needed as his work, his philosophy, and his intellect were challenged by others throughout his life.

      Sam Keen is a theologian, spiritualist and psychologist who, at 61, discovered and learned flying trapeze in San Francisco. In "Learning to Fly," he talks of "what I call the aerial instinct, the desire to transcend our present condition (as) the defining characteristic of a human being."[33] He also quotes E B White as saying, "A writer, like an acrobat, must occasionally try for a stunt that is too much for him."[34]

      Three questions arise from the proverbial Big Question. Which of the two men is most remembered? Which most deserves to be? Finally, should we be considering an either/or answer at all?

      Jules Leotard has many more mentions in dance-wear catalogues and circus histories. Jean-Francois Lyotard has far more books on shelves, and pages on the internet. While Leotard has a display in the Toulouse Museum, we do not know of a museum of post-modernism. If there is such a thing, there is probably a sign outside that reads "Closed for Deconstruction."

      Leotard, the man who was the toast of Europe in the 1860s, is almost forgotten. Aficionados honour him for his pioneering leap into space, but if he had not done it, another surely would have. Already some argue that Thomas Hanlon may have performed a flying trick, from a swing to a vertical 'web' rope in 1858.[35] Certainly, Leotard was immediately imitated by circus performers in Europe, Russia and the USA. This leads us to the question of Leotard's significance. Is he worth the plaque that bears his name on the wall of the Cirque d'Hiver in Paris? An extension of this line of questioning is to debate whether there is any point in celebrating priority in any field. Does it go beyond the crass cataloguing of the Guinness Book of Records?

      In the collection of Lyotard's letters, oddly entitled "The Postmodern Explained to Children," he says,

      writing a philosophical text, alone at one's table (or taking a walk).We write before knowing what to say and how to say it, and in order to find out, if possible. Philosophical writing is ahead of us where it is supposed to be. Like a child, it is premature and insubstantial.[36]

      It has always been children who "play on swings." Jules Leotard simply extended the life and scope of his childhood games professionally. It is children, too, who ask the awkward Big Questions of "why?" and "why not?" Jean-Francois Lyotard acknowledged this in his "Address on the Subject of the Course in Philosophy." Writing about the importance of the philosophy course at the College Internationale de Philosophie at Vincennes University, which is very popular among mature students, he says,

      Maybe there is more childhood available to thought at thirty-five than at eighteen, and more outside a degree course than in one. A new task for didactic thought: to search out its childhood anywhere and everywhere, even outside childhood.[37]

      Perhaps we have arrived at a commonality between Leotard and Lyotard. We need not look for a superiority of one over the other. We need not ask "Which of these heroes most deserves to be recognized by history for his contribution to humanity? Which most deserves to be immortalized in the Pantheon of legendary French pioneers? Which will we talk about to our grandchildren? Which should be represented on a postage stamp? Which has done most to advance his era, his nation, and his species? Lyotard, who flew in the face of structuralism, or Leotard, who simply flew? From each we learn the potential of the human.

Works Cited and Notes >>