Literature never simply is then, never simply takes place within the limits of a defined topology. This is what Derrida (2000) suggests when he writes that there is no literary place strictly speaking, “no essence or substance of literature: literature is not. It does not exist. It does not remain at home, abidingly [à demeure] in the identity of a nature or even of a historical being identical with itself. It does not maintain itself abidingly [à demeure], at least if ‘abode [demeure]’ designates the essential stability of a place…” (28). This “strange” topology of literature, where it is both inside and outside the institution that legitimates it, is tied not only to the fact that, like democracy, literature seems to lack any ontological status but also, like democracy, it reserves the right to say everything and thus question its own institutional and juridical presuppositions.
However, its freedom to say everything, which “is a very powerful political weapon,” as Derrida (1992) says, is also “one which might immediately let itself be neutralized as a fiction” (38). And it is necessary that it be so, if “the right to say everything” is to remain safeguarded from political intimidation or religious persecution. This is why, as Blanchot suggests, literature commits itself irresponsibly.11 It retains the right to fictionalize its own account, to disclaim all responsibility when brought to the stand; without it, literature would become hostage to opportunism and vagaries of political power.

(Zlatan Filipovic "For A Future To Come: Derrida's Democracy And The Right to Literature")