
The French philosopher, Michel Foucault took the idea of authorship, tossed it in the air, and watched it crash to the ground in a thousand broken pieces.
If you’ve ever ventured into his essay What is an Author? and found yourself questioning whether you’re reading philosophy or deciphering the code of a scientist, you’re not alone.
It’s a dense and slippery read, but what’s even trickier to grasp is Foucault’s view of the author.
In his universe, the author isn’t merely the creator of words on a page.
Oh no.
The author is a far more elusive entity—so complex that, if you look closely enough, it might just offer a clue as to why the world often seems to be falling apart at the seams.

The Author as a Function of Discourse
Foucault’s theory of the author begins with a deceptively simple question:
What is an author?
The answer, however, is anything but simple.
For Foucault, the author is a “function” within a larger social discourse.
Take Marx and Freud as examples. These guys didn’t just publish their famous works; they initiated entire discursive practices.
Foucault argues that their ideas didn’t just exist within the boundaries of their books—they paved a new way of thinking.
Marx, for instance, didn’t just pen Das Kapital. He unleashed an intellectual tsunami that still swamps our political and economic conversations today.
The same goes for Freud. His psychoanalytic theories didn’t just sit quietly on the page; they created new spaces for thought—a whole new map of the mind, if you will.
These discourses (Marxism, psychoanalysis) live beyond their creators.
Marx and Freud are no longer the authors in any conventional sense; they are initiators of practices, but the discourse they started carries on without them.
Their ideas have evolved, mutated, and influenced other fields in ways they likely never intended.
The work is bigger than the man (or woman).
Foucault’s Discursive Practices | What They Created |
---|---|
Marxism | The basis for socialist and communist movements, new economic theories |
Psychoanalysis | The foundation of modern psychology, cultural studies, and therapy |

Founding Act of Science vs. Initiation of Discursive Practices
Now, the real kicker comes when Foucault starts comparing two seemingly similar things: the founding act of a science and the initiation of a discursive practice.
Here’s where Foucault flexes his philosophical muscles.
The founding act of a science is like a grain of sand in an enormous desert.
It’s just one little piece of the puzzle, but it’s tied to the machinery that turns it into something bigger.
Foucault is alluding to the fact that scientific knowledge can always be rechanneled, questioned, or revised as new discoveries are made.
It’s the idea of a foundation, but one that’s inherently unstable.
In contrast, the initiation of a discursive practice is more like a thunderclap.
It’s not something you can simply recast or rework. Once a discourse is launched, it transcends its origins.
It exists as its own entity, constantly evolving and influencing the world around it.
Founding Act of Science | Initiation of Discursive Practice |
---|---|
Tied to a fixed foundation, subject to revisions | Evolving, transcendent, creates a new lens for interpreting the world |
E.g., Galileo’s work on heliocentrism | E.g., Freud’s theory of the unconscious |

A Simple Explanation (For the Apprentice Philosophers)
Imagine you’re sitting in a café, sipping on an overpriced coffee (hey, it’s part of the dream), and I’m trying to explain Foucault to you, a young apprentice in the ways of philosophy.
Here’s the deal: Foucault says big authors don’t just create things; they start movements.
Their ideas lead to new ways of thinking that affect society as a whole.
Let’s say you write a book about space aliens—wild, right? But instead of just writing about aliens, you change the way people think about outer space, time, and the possibility of life beyond Earth.
Even after you die, people are still talking about your work.
That’s Foucault’s big point: The author is a function of the ideas they create, which live on long after they’re gone.
More Examples
Michel Foucault himself
Naturally, Foucault is a prime example of someone whose work has initiated a new way of thinking.
His theories on power, discipline, and the construction of knowledge through discourse fundamentally changed the study of philosophy, sociology, and history.
His book Discipline and Punish redefined how we understand the development of modern society and its institutions.
Foucault’s work goes beyond his own intellectual origins—his ideas continue to shape a wide range of disciplines, from political theory to cultural studies.
Galileo Galilei
Galileo’s work in the scientific revolution didn’t just alter our understanding of the cosmos; it fundamentally changed the way we think about science and nature.
His support for heliocentrism, for instance, didn’t just introduce a theory—it began an entire shift in scientific discourse, opening the door to new methodologies and understandings of the universe.
Once he initiated this discourse, it transcended his own ideas, evolving into a broader scientific practice that led to the development of modern physics, astronomy, and even challenged the very structure of religious authority.
Foucault would view Galileo not as just an author of his observations, but as an initiator of a new way of thinking about science and nature.
George Orwell
Orwell’s work, particularly in 1984 and Animal Farm, didn’t just critique politics—it initiated an entirely new discourse around totalitarianism, surveillance, and propaganda.
His ideas about the dangers of oppressive governments have continued to influence political thought and cultural studies long after his death.
Orwell didn’t just create novels; he set in motion a global conversation about the role of government, language, and truth in society.
His works have been reinterpreted in countless ways, fueling ongoing discussions about freedom and power.
Charles Darwin
Darwin’s theory of evolution by natural selection didn’t just change biology—it initiated an entire shift in how humanity views itself within the natural world. On the Origin of Species laid the groundwork for evolutionary biology, but it also influenced fields as diverse as anthropology, psychology, and even social theory (for better or worse, depending on how it was applied).
Darwin’s ideas extended far beyond the individual scientist and created an ongoing discourse that continues to evolve.
Franz Kafka
Kafka’s works, particularly The Metamorphosis and The Trial, don’t just create narratives—they initiate a new way of thinking about alienation, bureaucracy, and the individual’s relationship to society.
Kafka’s unique style and dark, existential themes influenced a whole genre of literature.
His writing contributed to the discourse around existentialism, absurdism, and modernist literature, themes that continue to be explored and expanded by writers and philosophers.
Ultimately, the examples are endless…

The Dark Side
Now, as my cigar burns down to the stub (I’m out of good metaphors at this point), let’s dig into the dark side of Foucault’s idea.
If the author is just a function of a larger discourse, then do we lose control over our ideas? Are we doomed to become puppets of the very practices we start?
Scary?
Foucault implies that the more we engage in these discourses, the more we become trapped by them.
The things we create end up shaping us. Marx and Freud might have started something revolutionary, but they couldn’t have predicted how their ideas would be twisted, reworked, and used by people across generations, for better or worse.
It’s a bleak vision: ideas born of freedom could end up enslaving their creators.

A Glimmer of Hope: Our Choice Defines the Future
But this doesn’t mean we’re doomed. Foucault’s point is not just about the loss of control. It’s about the fact that we still hold the reins, however tenuous.
Every idea, every discourse, is a step toward a new way of thinking.
It’s like the first raindrop in a forrest.
We are the raindrops, each of us adding something new to the landscape, creating new paths and rivers.
As much as Foucault points out that we may never fully control our creations, he also suggests that the choices we make today shape tomorrow.
So, what’s next?
Do we embrace the dark complexity of our discourses, or do we try to break free from them, seeking something new?
The choice is ours, my friend. It’s in the books we write, the conversations we have, and the ideas we share.
In the end, we may never escape the cycle, but we can still play the game.
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