Hardt & Negri Empire
Hardt & Negri Empire
Hardt & Negri Empire
Empire
Ani DiFranco
Men fight and lose the battle, and the thing that they fought for comes about in
spite of their defeat, and then it turns out not to be what they meant, and
other men have to fight for what they meant under another name.
William Morris
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
We would like to thank the friends and colleagues who read parts of this
manuscript and from whose comments we benefited: Robert Adelman, tienne
Balibar, Denis Berger, Yann Moulier Boutang, Tom Conley, Arif Dirlik, Luciano
Ferrari-Bravo, David Harvey, Fred Jameson, Rebecca Karl, Wahneema Lubiano, Saree
Makdisi, Christian Marazzi, Valentin Mudimbe, Judith Revel, Ken Surin, Christine
Thorsteinsson, Jean-Marie Vincent, Paolo Virno, Lindsay Waters, and Kathi Weeks.
PREFACE
Empire is materializing before our very eyes. Over the past several decades, as
colonial regimes were overthrown and then precipitously after the Soviet
barriers to the capitalist world market finally collapsed, we have witnessed an
irresistible and irreversible globalization of economic and cultural exchanges.
Along with the global market and global circuits of production has emerged a
global order, a new logic and structure of rule-in short, a new form of
sovereignty. Empire is the political subject that effectively regulates these
global exchanges, the sovereign power that governs the world.
Many argue that the globalization of capitalist production and exchange means
that economic relations have become more autonomous from political controls, and
consequently that political sovereignty has declined. Some celebrate this new
era as the liberation of the capitalist economy from the restrictions and
distortions that political forces have imposed on it; others lament it as the
closing of the institutional channels through which workers and citizens can
influence or contest the cold logic of capitalist profit. It is certainly true
that, in step with the processes of globalization, the sovereignty of nation-
states, while still effective, has progressively declined. The primary factors
of production and exchange-money, technology, people, and goods-move with
increasing ease across national boundaries; hence the nation-state has less and
less power to regulate these flows and impose its authority over the economy.
Even the most dominant nation-states should no longer be thought of as supreme
and sovereign authorities, either outside or even within their own borders. The
decline in sovereignty of nationstates, however, does not mean that sovereignty
as such has declined.[1]
Many locate the ultimate authority that rules over the processes of
globalization and the new world order in the United States. Proponents praise
the United States as the world leader and sole superpower, and detractors
denounce it as an imperialist oppressor. Both these views rest on the assumption
that the United States has simply donned the mantle of global power that the
European nations have now let fall. If the nineteenth century was a British
century, then the twentieth century has been an American century; or really, if
modernity was European, then postmodernity is American. The most damning charge
critics can level, then, is that the United States is repeating the practices of
old European imperialists, while proponents celebrate the United States as a
more efficient and more benevolent world leader, getting right what the
Europeans got wrong. Our basic hypothesis, however, that a new imperial form of
sovereignty has emerged, contradicts both these views. The United States does
not, and indeed no nation-state can today, form the center of an imperialist
project. Imperialism is over. No nation will be world leader in the way modern
European nations were.
The United States does indeed occupy a privileged position in Empire, but this
privilege derives not from its similarities to the old European imperialist
powers, but from its differences. These differences can be recognized most
clearly by focusing on the properly imperial (not imperialist) foundations of
the United States constitution, where by "constitution" we mean both the formal
constitution, the written document along with its various amendments and legal
apparatuses, and the material constitution, that is, the continuous formation
and re-formation of the composition of social forces. Thomas Jefferson, the
authors of the Federalist, and the other ideological founders of the United
States were all inspired by the ancient imperial model; they believed they were
creating on the other side of the Atlantic a new Empire with open, expanding
frontiers, where power would be effectively distributed in networks. This
imperial idea has survived and matured throughout the history of the United
States constitution and has emerged now on a global scale in its fully realized
form.
We should emphasize that we use "Empire" here not as a metaphor, which would
require demonstration of the resemblances between today's world order and the
Empires of Rome, China, the Americas, and so forth, but rather as a concept,
which calls primarily for a theoretical approach.[2] The concept of Empire is
characterized fundamentally by a lack of boundaries: Empire's rule has no
limits. First and foremost, then, the concept of Empire posits a regime that
effectively encompasses the spatial totality, or really that rules over the
entire "civilized" world. No territorial boundaries limit its reign. Second, the
concept of Empire presents itself not as a historical regime originating in
conquest, but rather as an order that effectively suspends history and thereby
fixes the existing state of affairs for eternity. From the perspective of
Empire, this is the way things will always be and the way they were always meant
to be. In other words, Empire presents its rule not as a transitory moment in
the movement of history, but as a regime with no temporal boundaries and in this
sense outside of history or at the end of history. Third, the rule of Empire
operates on all registers of the social order extending down to the depths of
the social world. Empire not only manages a territory and a population but also
creates the very world it inhabits. It not only regulates human interactions but
also seeks directly to rule over human nature. The object of its rule is social
life in its entirety, and thus Empire presents the paradigmatic form of
biopower. Finally, although the practice of Empire is continually bathed in
blood, the concept of Empire is always dedicated to peace-a perpetual and
universal peace outside of history.
The Empire we are faced with wields enormous powers of oppression and
destruction, but that fact should not make us nostalgic in any way for the old
forms of domination. The passage to Empire and its processes of globalization
offer new possibilities to the forces of liberation. Globalization, of course,
is not one thing, and the multiple processes that we recognize as globalization
are not unified or univocal. Our political task, we will argue, is not simply to
resist these processes but to reorganize them and redirect them toward new ends.
The creative forces of the multitude that sustain Empire are also capable of
autonomously constructing a counter-Empire, an alternative political
organization of global flows and exchanges. The struggles to contest and subvert
Empire, as well as those to construct a real alternative, will thus take place
on the imperial terrain itself-indeed, such new struggles have already begun to
emerge. Through these struggles and many more like them, the multitude will have
to invent new democratic forms and a new constituent power that will one day
take us through and beyond Empire.
In writing this book we have tried to the best of our abilities to employ a
broadly interdisciplinary approach.[4] Our argument aims to be equally
philosophical and historical, cultural and economic, political and
anthropological. In part, our object of study demands this broad
interdisciplinarity, since in Empire the boundaries that might previously have
justified narrow disciplinary approaches are increasingly breaking down. In the
imperial world the economist, for example, needs a basic knowledge of cultural
production to understand the economy, and likewise the cultural critic needs a
basic knowledge of economic processes to understand culture. That is a
requirement that our project demands. What we hope to have contributed in this
book is a general theoretical framework and a toolbox of concepts for theorizing
and acting in and against Empire.[5]
Like most large books, this one can be read in many different ways: front to
back, back to front, in pieces, in a hopscotch pattern, or through
correspondences. The sections of Part 1 introduce the general problematic of
Empire. In the central portion of the book, Parts 2 and 3, we tell the story of
the passage from modernity to postmodernity, or really from imperialism to
Empire. Part 2 narrates the passage primarily from the standpoint of the history
of ideas and culture from the early modern period to the present. The red thread
that runs throughout this part is the genealogy of the concept of sovereignty.
Part 3 narrates the same passage from the standpoint of production, whereby
production is understood in a very broad sense, ranging from economic production
to the production of subjectivity. This narrative spans a shorter period and
focuses primarily on the transformations of capitalist production from the late
nineteenth century to the present. The internal structures of Parts 2 and 3 thus
correspond: the first sections of each treat the modern, imperialist phase; the
middle sections deal with the mechanisms of passage; and the final sections
analyze our postmodern, imperial world.
We structured the book this way in order to emphasize the importance of the
shift from the realm of ideas to that of production. The Intermezzo between
Parts 2 and 3 functions as a hinge that articulates the movement from one
standpoint to the other. We intend this shift of standpoint to function
something like the moment in Capital when Marx invites us to leave the noisy
sphere of exchange and descend into the hidden abode of production. The realm of
production is where social inequalities are clearly revealed and, moreover,
where the most effective resistances and alternatives to the power of Empire
arise. In Part 4 we thus try to identify these alternatives that today are
tracing the lines of a movement beyond Empire.
This book was begun well after the end of the Persian Gulf War and completed
well before the beginning of the war in Kosovo. The reader should thus situate
the argument at the midpoint between those two signal events in the construction
of Empire.
Capitalism only triumphs when it becomes identified with the state, when it is
the state.
Fernand Braudel
Tacitus
The problematic of Empire is determined in the first place by one simple fact:
that there is world order. This order is expressed as a juridical formation. Our
initial task, then, is to grasp the constitution of the order being formed
today. We should rule out from the outset, however, two common conceptions of
this order that reside on opposing limits of the spectrum: first, the notion
that the present order somehow rises up spontaneously out of the interactions of
radically heterogeneous global forces, as if this order were a harmonious
concert orchestrated by the natural and neutral hidden hand of the world market;
and second, the idea that order is dictated by a single power and a single
center of rationality transcendent to global forces, guiding the various phases
of historical development according to its conscious and all-seeing plan,
something like a conspiracy theory of globalization.[1]
United Nations
It was only fitting, then, that Kelsen would later have the privilege of
attending the meetings in San Francisco that founded the United Nations and
seeing his theoretical hypothesis realized. For him the United Nations organized
a rational idea.[6] It gave legs to an idea of the spirit; it proposed a real
base of effectiveness for a transcendental schema of the validity of right
situated above the nation-state. The validity and efficacy of right could now be
united in the supreme juridical source, and under these conditions Kelsen's
notion of a fundamental norm could finally be realized.
Although, given the conditions in which these theories were formulated (during
the cold war, when the United Nations only limped forward in the best of times),
we must recognize the great foresight of these theorists, we also have to point
out that they cannot account for the real novelty of the historical processes we
are witnessing today.[12] In this regard these theories can and do become
harmful, because they do not recognize the accelerated rhythm, the violence, and
the necessity with which the new imperial paradigm operates. What they do not
understand is that imperial sovereignty marks a paradigm shift. Paradoxically
(but it is really not that paradoxical), only Kelsen's conception poses the real
problem, even if his conception is limited to a strictly formalist point of
view. What political power already exists or can be created, he asks, that is
adequate to a globalization of economic and social relations? What juridical
source, what fundamental norm, and what command can support a new order and
avoid the impending descent into global disorder?
We should point out here that we accord special attention to the juridical
figures of the constitution of Empire at the beginning of our study not out of
any specialized disciplinary interest-as if right or law in itself, as an agent
of regulation, were capable of representing the social world in its totality-but
rather because they provide a good index of the processes of imperial
constitution. New juridical figures reveal a first view of the tendency toward
the centralized and unitary regulation of both the world market and global power
relations, with all the difficulties presented by such a project. Juridical
transformations effectively point toward changes in the material constitution of
world power and order. The transition we are witnessing today from traditional
international law, which was defined by contracts and treaties, to the
definition and constitution of a new sovereign, supranational world power (and
thus to an imperial notion of right), however incomplete, gives us a framework
in which to read the totalizing social processes of Empire. In effect, the
juridical transformation functions as a symptom of the modifications of the
material biopolitical constitution of our societies. These changes regard not
only international law and international relations but also the internal power
relations of each country. While studying and critiquing the new forms of
international and supranational law, then, we will at the same time be pushed to
the heart of the political theory of Empire, where the problem of supranational
sovereignty, its source of legitimacy, and its exercise bring into focus
political, cultural, and finally ontological problems.
From the beginning, then, Empire sets in motion an ethicopolitical dynamic that
lies at the heart of its juridical concept. This juridical concept involves two
fundamental tendencies: first, the notion of a right that is affirmed in the
construction of a new order that envelops the entire space of what it considers
civilization, a boundless, universal space; and second, a notion of right that
encompasses all time within its ethical foundation. Empire exhausts historical
time, suspends history, and summons the past and future within its own ethical
order. In other words, Empire presents its order as permanent, eternal, and
necessary.
In the Germanic-Roman tradition that thrived throughout the Middle Ages, these
two notions of right went hand in hand.[16] Beginning in the Renaissance,
however, with the triumph of secularism, these two notions were separated and
each developed independently. On the one hand, there emerged in modern European
political thought a conception of international right, and on the other, there
developed utopias of "perpetual peace." In the first case, the order that the
Roman Empire had promised was sought, long after its fall, through a treaty
mechanism that would construct an international order among sovereign states by
operating analogously to the contractual mechanisms that guaranteed order within
the nation-state and its civil society. Thinkers from Grotius to Puffendorf
theorized this process in formal terms. In the second case, the idea of
"perpetual peace" continually reappeared throughout modern Europe, from Bernadin
de Saint Pierre to Immanuel Kant. This idea was presented as an ideal of reason,
a "light" that had to criticize and also unite right and ethicality, a
presupposed transcendental of the juridical system and ideal schema of reason
and ethics. The fundamental alternative between these two notions ran throughout
all of European modernity, including the two great ideologies that defined its
mature phase: the liberal ideology that rests on the peaceful concert of
juridical forces and its supersession in the market; and the socialist ideology
that focuses on international unity through the organization of struggles and
the supersession of right.
Would it be correct to claim, then, that these two different developments of the
notion of right that persisted side by side through the centuries of modernity
tend today toward being united and presented as a single category? We suspect
that this is indeed the case, and that in postmodernity the notion of right
should be understood again in terms of the concept of Empire. And yet, since a
large part of our investigation will turn around this question, leading us
toward doubts and perplexities, it does not seem a good idea to jump so quickly
to a definitive conclusion, even if here we are limiting ourselves only to the
analysis of the notion of right. We can already recognize, however, some
important symptoms of the rebirth of the concept of Empire-symptoms that
function like logical provocations arising on the terrain of history that theory
cannot ignore.
One symptom, for example, is the renewed interest in and effectiveness of the
concept of bellum justum, or "just war." This concept, which was organically
linked to the ancient imperial orders and whose rich and complex genealogy goes
back to the biblical tradition, has begun to reappear recently as a central
narrative of political discussions, particularly in the wake of the Gulf
War.[17] Traditionally the concept rests primarily on the idea that when a state
finds itself confronted with a threat of aggression that can endanger its
territorial integrity or political independence, it has a jus ad bellum (right
to make war).[18] There is certainly something troubling in this renewed focus
on the concept of bellum justum, which modernity, or rather modern secularism,
had worked so hard to expunge from the medieval tradition. The traditional
concept of just war involves the banalization of war and the celebration of it
as an ethical instrument, both of which were ideas that modern political thought
and the international community of nation-states had resolutely refused. These
two traditional characteristics have reappeared in our postmodern world: on the
one hand, war is reduced to the status of police action, and on the other, the
new power that can legitimately exercise ethical functions through war is
sacralized.
Far from merely repeating ancient or medieval notions, however, today's concept
presents some truly fundamental innovations. Just war is no longer in any sense
an activity of defense or resistance, as it was, for example, in the Christian
tradition from Saint Augustine to the scholastics of the Counter-Reformation, as
a necessity of the "worldly city" to guarantee its own survival. It has become
rather an activity that is justified in itself. Two distinct elements are
combined in this concept of just war: first, the legitimacy of the military
apparatus insofar as it is ethically grounded, and second, the effectiveness of
military action to achieve the desired order and peace.
The synthesis of these two elements may indeed be a key factor determining the
foundation and the new tradition of Empire. Today the enemy, just like the war
itself, comes to be at once banalized (reduced to an object of routine police
repression) and absolutized (as the Enemy, an absolute threat to the ethical
order). The Gulf War gave us perhaps the first fully articulated example of this
new epistemology of the concept.[19] The resurrection of the concept of just war
may be only a symptom of the emergence of Empire, but what a suggestive and
powerful one!
We must avoid defining the passage to Empire in purely negative terms, in terms
of what it is not, as for example is done when one says: the new paradigm is
defined by the definitive decline of the sovereign nation-states, by the
deregulation of international markets, by the end of antagonistic conflict among
state subjects, and so forth. If the new paradigm were to consist simply in
this, then its consequences would be truly anarchic. Power, however-and Michel
Foucault was not the only one to teach us this-fears and despises a vacuum. The
new paradigm functions already in completely positive terms-and it could not be
otherwise.
The new paradigm is both system and hierarchy, centralized construction of norms
and far-reaching production of legitimacy, spread out over world space. It is
configured ab initio as a dynamic and flexible systemic structure that is
articulated horizontally. We conceive the structure in a kind of intellectual
shorthand as a hybrid of Niklas Luhmann's systems theory and John Rawls's theory
of justice.[20] Some call this situation "governance without government" to
indicate the structural logic, at times imperceptible but always and
increasingly effective, that sweeps all actors within the order of the
whole.[21] The systemic totality has a dominant position in the global order,
breaking resolutely with every previous dialectic and developing an integration
of actors that seems linear and spontaneous. At the same time, however, the
effectiveness of the consensus under a supreme authority of the ordering appears
ever more clearly. All conflicts, all crises, and all dissensions effectively
push forward the process of integration and by the same measure call for more
central authority. Peace, equilibrium, and the cessation of conflict are the
values toward which everything is directed. The development of the global system
(and of imperial right in the first place) seems to be the development of a
machine that imposes procedures of continual contractualization that lead to
systemic equilibria-a machine that creates a continuous call for authority. The
machine seems to predetermine the exercise of authority and action across the
entire social space. Every movement is fixed and can seek its own designated
place only within the system itself, in the hierarchical relationship accorded
to it. This preconstituted movement defines the reality of the process of the
imperial constitutionalization of world order-the new paradigm.
Once again, the ancient notions of Empire help us articulate better the nature
of this world order in formation. As Thucydides, Livy, and Tacitus all teach us
(along with Machiavelli commenting on their work), Empire is formed not on the
basis of force itself but on the basis of the capacity to present force as being
in the service of right and peace. All interventions of the imperial armies are
solicited by one or more of the parties involved in an already existing
conflict. Empire is not born of its own will but rather it is called into being
and constituted on the basis of its capacity to resolve conflicts. Empire is
formed and its intervention becomes juridically legitimate only when it is
already inserted into the chain of international consensuses aimed at resolving
existing conflicts. To return to Machiavelli, the expansion of Empire is rooted
in the internal trajectory of the conflicts it is meant to resolve.[24] The
first task of Empire, then, is to enlarge the realm of the consensuses that
support its own power.
The ancient model gives us a first approximation, but we need to go well beyond
it to articulate the terms of the global model of authority operating today.
Juridical positivism and natural right theories, contractualism and
institutional realism, formalism and systematism can each describe some aspect
of it. Juridical positivism can emphasize the necessity for a strong power to
exist at the center of the normative process; natural right theories can
highlight the values of peace and equilibrium that the imperial process offers;
contractualism can foreground the formation of consensus; realism can bring to
light the formative processes of the institutions adequate to the new dimensions
of consensus and authority; and formalism can give logical support to what
systematism justifies and organizes functionally, emphasizing the totalizing
character of the process. What juridical model, however, grasps all these
characteristics of the new supranational order?
Universal Values
We might well ask at this point, however, should we still use the juridical term
"right" in this context? How can we call right (and specifically imperial right)
a series of techniques that, founded on a state of permanent exception and the
power of the police, reduces right and law to a question of pure effectiveness?
In order to address these questions, we should first look more closely at the
process of imperial constitution that we are witnessing today. We should
emphasize from the start that its reality is demonstrated not only by the
transformations of international law it brings about, but also by the changes it
effects in the administrative law of individual societies and nation-states, or
really in the administrative law of cosmopolitical society.[27] Through its
contemporary transformation of supranational law, the imperial process of
constitution tends either directly or indirectly to penetrate and reconfigure
the domestic law of the nation-states, and thus supranational law powerfully
overdetermines domestic law.
Throughout the course of our research we have found ourselves confronted with a
classic problematic of political philosophy: the decline and fall of Empire.[30]
It may seem paradoxical that we address this topos at the beginning, at the same
time that we treat the initial construction of Empire; but the becoming of
Empire is actually realized on the basis of the same conditions that
characterize its decadence and decline. Empire is emerging today as the center
that supports the globalization of productive networks and casts its widely
inclusive net to try to envelop all power relations within its world order-and
yet at the same time it deploys a powerful police function against the new
barbarians and the rebellious slaves who threaten its order. The power of Empire
appears to be subordinated to the fluctuations of local power dynamics and to
the shifting, partial juridical orderings that attempt, but never fully succeed,
to lead back to a state of normalcy in the name of the "exceptionality" of the
administrative procedures. These characteristics, however, were precisely those
that defined ancient Rome in its decadence and that tormented so many of its
Enlightenment admirers. We should not expect that the complexity of the
processes that construct the new imperial relationship of right be resolved. On
the contrary, the processes are and will remain contradictory. The question of
the definition of justice and peace will find no real resolution; the force of
the new imperial constitution will not be embodied in a consensus that is
articulated in the multitude. The terms of the juridical proposal of Empire are
completely indeterminate, even though they are nonetheless concrete. Empire is
born and shows itself as crisis. Should we conceive this as an Empire of
decadence, then, in the terms Montesquieu and Gibbon described? Or is it more
properly understood in classical terms as an Empire of corruption? Here we
should understand corruption first of all not only in moral terms but also in
juridical and political terms, because according to Montesquieu and Gibbon, when
the different forms of government are not firmly established in the republic,
the cycle of corruption is ineluctably set in motion and the community is torn
apart.[31] Second, we should understand corruption also in metaphysical terms:
where the entity and essence, effectiveness and value, do not find common
satisfaction, there develops not generation but corruption.[32] These are some
of the fundamental axes of Empire that we will return to later at length.
Allow us, in conclusion, one final analogy that refers to the birth of
Christianity in Europe and its expansion during the decline of the Roman Empire.
In this process an enormous potential of subjectivity was constructed and
consolidated in terms of the prophecy of a world to come, a chiliastic project.
This new subjectivity offered an absolute alternative to the spirit of imperial
right-a new ontological basis. From this perspective, Empire was accepted as the
"maturity of the times" and the unity of the entire known civilization, but it
was challenged in its totality by a completely different ethical and ontological
axis. In the same way today, given that the limits and unresolvable problems of
the new imperial right are fixed, theory and practice can go beyond them,
finding once again an ontological basis of antagonism-within Empire, but also
against and beyond Empire, at the same level of totality.
The "police" appears as an administration heading the state, together with the
judiciary, the army, and the exchequer. True. Yet in fact, it embraces
everything else. Turquet says so: "It branches out into all of the people's
conditions, everything they do or undertake. Its field comprises the judiciary,
finance, and the army." The police includes everything.
Michel Foucault
From the juridical perspective we have been able to glimpse some of the elements
of the ideal genesis of Empire, but from that perspective alone it would be
difficult if not impossible to understand how the imperial machine is actually
set in motion. Juridical concepts and juridical systems always refer to
something other than themselves. Through the evolution and exercise of right,
they point toward the material condition that defines their purchase on social
reality. Our analysis must now descend to the level of that materiality and
investigate there the material transformation of the paradigm of rule. We need
to discover the means and forces of the production of social reality along with
the subjectivities that animate it.
These two lines of Foucault's work dovetail with each other in the sense that
only the society of control is able to adopt the biopolitical context as its
exclusive terrain of reference. In the passage from disciplinary society to the
society of control, a new paradigm of power is realized which is defined by the
technologies that recognize society as the realm of biopower. In disciplinary
society the effects of biopolitical technologies were still partial in the sense
that disciplining developed according to relatively closed, geometrical, and
quantitative logics. Disciplinarity fixed individuals within institutions but
did not succeed in consuming them completely in the rhythm of productive
practices and productive socialization; it did not reach the point of permeating
entirely the consciousnesses and bodies of individuals, the point of treating
and organizing them in the totality of their activities. In disciplinary
society, then, the relationship between power and the individual remained a
static one: the disciplinary invasion of power corresponded to the resistance of
the individual. By contrast, when power becomes entirely biopolitical, the whole
social body is comprised by power's machine and developed in its virtuality.
This relationship is open, qualitative, and affective. Society, subsumed within
a power that reaches down to the ganglia of the social structure and its
processes of development, reacts like a single body. Power is thus expressed as
a control that extends throughout the depths of the consciousnesses and bodies
of the population-and at the same time across the entirety of social
relations.[4]
In this passage from disciplinary society to the society of control, then, one
could say that the increasingly intense relationship of mutual implication of
all social forces that capitalism has pursued throughout its development has now
been fully realized. Marx recognized something similar in what he called the
passage from the formal subsumption to the real subsumption of labor under
capital,[5] and later the Frankfurt School philosophers analyzed a closely
related passage of the subsumption of culture (and social relations) under the
totalitarian figure of the state, or really within the perverse dialectic of
Enlightenment.[6] The passage we are referring to, however, is fundamentally
different in that instead of focusing on the unidimensionality of the process
described by Marx and reformulated and extended by the Frankfurt School, the
Foucauldian passage deals fundamentally with the paradox of plurality and
multiplicity-and Deleuze and Guattari develop this perspective even more
clearly.[7] The analysis of the real subsumption, when this is understood as
investing not only the economic or only the cultural dimension of society but
rather the social bios itself, and when it is attentive to the modalities of
disciplinarity and/or control, disrupts the linear and totalitarian figure of
capitalist development. Civil society is absorbed in the state, but the
consequence of this is an explosion of the elements that were previously
coordinated and mediated in civil society. Resistances are no longer marginal
but active in the center of a society that opens up in networks; the individual
points are singularized in a thousand plateaus. What Foucault constructed
implicitly (and Deleuze and Guattari made explicit) is therefore the paradox of
a power that, while it unifies and envelops within itself every element of
social life (thus losing its capacity effectively to mediate different social
forces), at that very moment reveals a new context, a new milieu of maximum
plurality and uncontainable singularization-a milieu of the event.[8] These
conceptions of the society of control and biopower both describe central aspects
of the concept of Empire. The concept of Empire is the framework in which the
new omniversality of subjects has to be understood, and it is the end to which
the new paradigm of power is leading. Here a veritable chasm opens up between
the various old theoretical frameworks of international law (in either its
contractual and/or U.N. form) and the new reality of imperial law. All the
intermediary elements of the process have in fact fallen aside, so that the
legitimacy of the international order can no longer be constructed through
mediations but must rather be grasped immediately in all its diversity. We have
already acknowledged this fact from the juridical perspective. We saw, in
effect, that when the new notion of right emerges in the context of
globalization and presents itself as capable oftreating the universal, planetary
sphere as a single, systemic set, it must assume an immediate prerequisite
(acting in a state of exception) and an adequate, plastic, and constitutive
technology (the techniques of the police).
Even though the state of exception and police technologies constitute the solid
nucleus and the central element of the new imperial right, however, this new
regime has nothing to do with the juridical arts of dictatorship or
totalitarianism that in other times and with such great fanfare were so
thoroughly described by many (in fact too many!) authors.[9] On the contrary,
the rule of law continues to play a central role in the context of the
contemporary passage: right remains effective and (precisely by means of the
state of exception and police techniques) becomes procedure. This is a radical
transformation that reveals the unmediated relationship between power and
subjectivities, and hence demonstrates both the impossibility of "prior"
mediations and the uncontainable temporal variability of the event.[10]
Throughout the unbounded global spaces, to the depths of the biopolitical world,
and confronting an unforeseeable temporality-these are the determinations on
which the new supranational right must be defined. Here is where the concept of
Empire must struggle to establish itself, where it must prove its effectiveness,
and hence where the machine must be set in motion. From this point of view, the
biopolitical context of the new paradigm is completely central to our analysis.
This is what presents power with an alternative, not only between obedience and
disobedience, or between formal political participation and refusal, but also
along the entire range of life and death, wealth and poverty, production and
social reproduction, and so forth. Given the great difficulties the new notion
of right has in representing this dimension of the power of Empire, and given
its inability to touch biopower concretely in all its material aspects, imperial
right can at best only partially represent the underlying design of the new
constitution of world order, and cannot really grasp the motor that sets it in
motion. Our analysis must focus its attention rather on the productive dimension
of biopower.[11]
We can better grasp the relationship between social production and biopower in
the work of a group of contemporary Italian Marxist authors who recognize the
biopolitical dimension in terms of the new nature of productive labor and its
living development in society, using terms such as "mass intellectuality,"
"immaterial labor," and the Marxian concept of "general intellect."[16] These
analyses set off from two coordinated research projects. The first consists in
the analysis of the recent transformations of productive labor and its tendency
to become increasingly immaterial. The central role previously occupied by the
labor power of mass factory workers in the production of surplus value is today
increasingly filled by intellectual, immaterial, and communicative labor power.
It is thus necessary to develop a new political theory of value that can pose
the problem of this new capitalist accumulation of value at the center of the
mechanism of exploitation (and thus, perhaps, at the center of potential
revolt). The second, and consequent, research project developed by this school
consists in the analysis of the immediately social and communicative dimension
of living labor in contemporary capitalist society, and thus poses insistently
the problem of the new figures of subjectivity, in both their exploitation and
their revolutionary potential. The immediately social dimension of the
exploitation of living immaterial labor immerses labor in all the relational
elements that define the social but also at the same time activate the critical
elements that develop the potential of insubordination and revolt through the
entire set of laboring practices. After a new theory of value, then, a new
theory of subjectivity must be formulated that operates primarily through
knowledge, communication, and language.
These analyses have thus reestablished the importance of production within the
biopolitical process of the social constitution, but they have also in certain
respects isolated it-by grasping it in a pure form, refining it on the ideal
plane. They have acted as if discovering the new forms of productive forces-
immaterial labor, massified intellectual labor, the labor of "general
intellect"-were enough to grasp concretely the dynamic and creative relationship
between material production and social reproduction. When they reinsert
production into the biopolitical context, they present it almost exclusively on
the horizon of language and communication. One of the most serious shortcomings
has thus been the tendency among these authors to treat the new laboring
practices in biopolitical society only in their intellectual and incorporeal
aspects. The productivity of bodies and the value of af fect, however, are
absolutely central in this context. We will elaborate the three primary aspects
of immaterial labor in the contemporary economy: the communicative labor of
industrial production that has newly become linked in informational networks,
the interactive labor of symbolic analysis and problem solving, and the labor of
the production and manipulation of affects (see Section 3.4). This third aspect,
with its focus on the productivity of the corporeal, the somatic, is an
extremely important element in the contemporary networks of biopolitical
production. The work of this school and its analysis of general intellect, then,
certainly marks a step forward, but its conceptual framework remains too pure,
almost angelic. In the final analysis, these new conceptions too only scratch
the surface of the productive dynamic of the new theoretical framework of
biopower.[17]
In asking ourselves how the political and sovereign elements of the imperial
machine come to be constituted, we find that there is no need to limit our
analysis to or even focus it on the established supranational regulatory
institutions. The U.N. organizations, along with the great multi- and
transnational finance and trade agencies (the IMF, the World Bank, the GATT, and
so forth), all become relevant in the perspective of the supranational juridical
constitution only when they are considered within the dynamic of the
biopolitical production of world order. The function they had in the old
international order, we should emphasize, is not what now gives legitimacy to
these organizations. What legitimates them now is rather their newly possible
function in the symbology of the imperial order. Outside of the new framework,
these institutions are ineffectual. At best, the old institutional framework
contributes to the formation and education of the administrative personnel of
the imperial machine, the "dressage" of a new imperial elite. The huge
transnational corporations construct the fundamental connective fabric of the
biopolitical world in certain important respects. Capital has indeed always been
organized with a view toward the entire global sphere, but only in the second
halfof the twentieth century did multinational and transnational industrial and
financial corporations really begin to structure global territories
biopolitically. Some claim that these corporations have merely come to occupy
the place that was held by the various national colonialist and imperialist
systems in earlier phases of capitalist development, from nineteenth-century
European imperialism to the Fordist phase of development in the twentieth
century.[19] This is in part true, but that place itself has been substantially
transformed by the new reality of capitalism. The activities of corporations are
no longer defined by the imposition of abstract command and the organization of
simple theft and unequal exchange. Rather, they directly structure and
articulate territories and populations. They tend to make nationstates merely
instruments to record the flows of the commodities, monies, and populations that
they set in motion. The transnational corporations directly distribute labor
power over various markets, functionally allocate resources, and organize
hierarchically the various sectors of world production. The complex apparatus
that selects investments and directs financial and monetary maneuvers determines
the new geography of the world market, or really the new biopolitical
structuring of the world.[20]
The most complete figure of this world is presented from the monetary
perspective. From here we can see a horizon of values and a machine of
distribution, a mechanism of accumulation and a means of circulation, a power
and a language. There is nothing, no "naked life," no external standpoint, that
can be posed outside this field permeated by money; nothing escapes money.
Production and reproduction are dressed in monetary clothing. In fact, on the
global stage, every biopolitical figure appears dressed in monetary garb.
"Accumulate, accumulate! This is Moses and the Prophets!"[21] The great
industrial and financial powers thus produce not only commodities but also
subjectivities. They produce agentic subjectivities within the biopolitical
context: they produce needs, social relations, bodies, and minds-which is to
say, they produce producers.[22] In the biopolitical sphere, life is made to
work for production and production is made to work for life. It is a great hive
in which the queen bee continuously oversees production and reproduction. The
deeper the analysis goes, the more it finds at increasing levels of intensity
the interlinking assemblages of interactive relationships.[23]
One site where we should locate the biopolitical production of order is in the
immaterial nexuses of the production of language, communication, and the
symbolic that are developed by the communications industries.[24] The
development of communications networks has an organic relationship to the
emergence of the new world order-it is, in other words, effect and cause,
product and producer. Communication not only expresses but also organizes the
movement of globalization. It organizes the movement by multiplying and
structuring interconnections through networks. It expresses the movement and
controls the sense and direction of the imaginary that runs throughout these
communicative connections; in other words, the imaginary is guided and channeled
within the communicative machine. What the theories of power of modernity were
forced to consider transcendent, that is, external to productive and social
relations, is here formed inside, immanent to the productive and social
relations. Mediation is absorbed within the productive machine. The political
synthesis of social space is fixed in the space of communication. This is why
communications industries have assumed such a central position. They not only
organize production on a new scale and impose a new structure adequate to global
space, but also make its justification immanent. Power, as it produces,
organizes; as it organizes, it speaks and expresses itself as authority.
Language, as it communicates, produces commodities but moreover creates
subjectivities, puts them in relation, and orders them. The communications
industries integrate the imaginary and the symbolic within the biopolitical
fabric, not merely putting them at the service of power but actually integrating
them into its very functioning.[25] At this point we can begin to address the
question of the legitimation of the new world order. Its legitimation is not
born of the previously existing international accords nor of the functioning of
the first, embryonic supranational organizations, which were themselves created
through treaties based on international law. The legitimation of the imperial
machine is born at least in part of the communications industries, that is, of
the transformation of the new mode of production into a machine. It is a subject
that produces its own image of authority. This is a form of legitimation that
rests on nothing outside itself and is reproposed ceaselessly by developing its
own languages of self-validation.
Intervention
This new framework of legitimacy includes new forms and new articulations of the
exercise of legitimate force. During its formation, the new power must
demonstrate the effectiveness of its force at the same time that the bases of
its legitimation are being constructed. In fact, the legitimacy of the new power
is in part based directly on the effectiveness of its use of force.
The way the effectiveness of the new power is demonstrated has nothing to do
with the old international order that is slowly dying away; nor has it much use
for the instruments the old order left behind. The deployments of the imperial
machine are defined by a whole series of new characteristics, such as the
unbounded terrain of its activities, the singularization and symbolic
localization of its actions, and the connection of repressive action to all the
aspects of the biopolitical structure of society. For lack of a better term we
continue to call these "interventions." This is merely a terminological and not
a conceptual deficiency, for these are not really interventions into independent
juridical territories but rather actions within a unified world by the ruling
structure of production and communication. In effect, intervention has been
internalized and universalized. In the previous section we referred to both the
structural means of intervention that involve the deployments of monetary
mechanisms and financial maneuvers over the transnational field of
interdependent productive regimes and interventions in the field of
communication and their effects on the legitimation of the system. Here we want
to investigate the new forms of intervention that involve the exercise of
physical force on the part of the imperial machine over its global territories.
The enemies that Empire opposes today may present more of an ideological threat
than a military challenge, but nonetheless the power of Empire exercised through
force and all the deployments that guarantee its effectiveness are already very
advanced technologically and solidly consolidated politically.[30]
Moral intervention often serves as the first act that prepares the stage for
military intervention. In such cases, military deployment is presented as an
internationally sanctioned police action. Today military intervention is
progressively less a product of decisions that arise out of the old
international order or even U.N. structures. More often it is dictated
unilaterally by the United States, which charges itself with the primary task
and then subsequently asks its allies to set in motion a process of armed
containment and/or repression of the current enemy of Empire. These enemies are
most often called terrorist, a crude conceptual and terminological reduction
that is rooted in a police mentality.
This kind of continual intervention, then, which is both moral and military, is
really the logical form of the exercise of force that follows from a paradigm of
legitimation based on a state of permanent exception and police action.
Interventions are always exceptional even though they arise continually; they
take the form of police actions because they are aimed at maintaining an
internal order. In this way intervention is an effective mechanism that through
police deployments contributes directly to the construction of the moral,
normative, and institutional order of Empire.
Royal Prerogatives
What were traditionally called the royal prerogatives of sovereignty seem in
effect to be repeated and even substantially renewed in the construction of
Empire. Ifwe were to remain within the conceptual framework of classic domestic
and international law, we might be tempted to say that a supranational quasi-
state is being formed. That does not seem to us, however, an accurate
characterization of the situation. When the royal prerogatives of modern
sovereignty reappear in Empire, they take on a completely different form. For
example, the sovereign function of deploying military forces was carried out by
the modern nation-states and is now conducted by Empire, but, as we have seen,
the justification for such deployments now rests on a state of permanent
exception, and the deployments themselves take the form of police actions. Other
royal prerogatives such as carrying out justice and imposing taxes also have the
same kind of liminal existence. We have already discussed the marginal position
of judicial authority in the constitutive process of Empire, and one could also
argue that imposing taxes occupies a marginal position in that it is
increasingly linked to specific and local urgencies. In effect, one might say
that the sovereignty of Empire itself is realized at the margins, where borders
are flexible and identities are hybrid and fluid. It would be difficult to say
which is more important to Empire, the center or the margins. In fact, center
and margin seem continually to be shifting positions, fleeing any determinate
locations. We could even say that the process itself is virtual and that its
power resides in the power of the virtual. One could nonetheless object at this
point that even while being virtual and acting at the margins, the process of
constructing imperial sovereignty is in many respects very real! We certainly do
not mean to deny that fact. Our claim, rather, is that we are dealing here with
a special kind of sovereignty-a discontinuous form of sovereignty that should be
considered liminal or marginal insofar as it acts "in the final instance," a
sovereignty that locates its only point of reference in the definitive
absoluteness of the power that it can exercise. Empire thus appears in the form
of a very high tech machine: it is virtual, built to control the marginal event,
and organized to dominate and when necessary intervene in the breakdowns of the
system (in line with the most advanced technologies of robotic production). The
virtuality and discontinuity of imperial sovereignty, however, do not minimize
the effectiveness of its force; on the contrary, those very characteristics
serve to reinforce its apparatus, demonstrating its effectiveness in the
contemporary historical context and its legitimate force to resolve world
problems in the final instance.
We are now in the position to address the question whether, on the basis of
these new biopolitical premises, the figure and the life of Empire can today be
grasped in terms of a juridical model. We have already seen that this juridical
model cannot be constituted by the existing structures of international law,
even when understood in terms of the most advanced developments of the United
Nations and the other great international organizations. Their elaborations of
an international order could at the most be recognized as a process of
transition toward the new imperial power. The constitution of Empire is being
formed neither on the basis of any contractual or treaty-based mechanism nor
through any federative source. The source of imperial normativity is born of a
new machine, a new economic-industrial-communicative machine-in short, a
globalized biopolitical machine. It thus seems clear that we must look at
something other than what has up until now constituted the bases of
international order, something that does not rely on the form of right that, in
the most diverse traditions, was grounded in the modern system of sovereign
nation-states. The impossibility, however, of grasping the genesis of Empire and
its virtual figure with any of the old instruments of juridical theory, which
were deployed in the realist, institutionalist, positivist, or natural right
frameworks, should not force us to accept a cynical framework of pure force or
some such Machiavellian position. In the genesis of Empire there is indeed a
rationality at work that can be recognized not so much in terms of the juridical
tradition but more clearly in the often hidden history of industrial management
and the political uses of technology. (We should not forget here too that
proceeding along these lines will reveal the fabric of class struggle and its
institutional effects, but we will treat that issue in the next section.) This
is a rationality that situates us at the heart of biopolitics and biopolitical
technologies.
If we wanted to take up again Max Weber's famous threepart formula of the forms
of legitimation of power, the qualitative leap that Empire introduces into the
definition would consist in the unforeseeable mixture of (1) elements typical of
traditional power, (2) an extension of bureaucratic power that is adapted
physiologically to the biopolitical context, and (3) a rationality defined by
the "event" and by "charisma" that rises up as a power of the singularization of
the whole and of the effectiveness of imperial interventions.[35] The logic that
characterizes this neo-Weberian perspective would be functional rather than
mathematical, and rhizomatic and undulatory rather than inductive or deductive.
It would deal with the management of linguistic sequences as sets of machinic
sequences of denotation and at the same time of creative, colloquial, and
irreducible innovation.
The fundamental object that the imperial relations of power interpret is the
productive force of the system, the new biopolitical economic and institutional
system. The imperial order is formed not only on the basis of its powers of
accumulation and global extension, but also on the basis of its capacity to
develop itself more deeply, to be reborn, and to extend itself throughout the
biopolitical latticework of world society. The absoluteness of imperial power is
the complementary term to its complete immanence to the ontological machine of
production and reproduction, and thus to the biopolitical context. Perhaps,
finally, this cannot be represented by a juridical order, but it nonetheless is
an order, an order defined by its virtuality, its dynamism, and its functional
inconclusiveness. The fundamental norm of legitimation will thus be established
in the depths of the machine, at the heart of social production. Social
production and juridical legitimation should not be conceived as primary and
secondary forces nor as elements of the base and superstructure, but should be
understood rather in a state of absolute parallelism and intermixture,
coextensive throughout biopolitical society. In Empire and its regime of
biopower, economic production and political constitution tend increasingly to
coincide.
Once embodied in the power of the workers' councils, which must internationally
supplant all other power, the proletarian movement becomes its own product, and
this product is the producer itself. The producer is its own end. Only then is
the spectacular negation of life negated in turn.
Guy Debord
Jos‚ Mart¡
Flirting with Hegel, one could say that the construction of Empire is good in
itself but not for itself.[1] One of the most powerful operations of the modern
imperialist power structures was to drive wedges among the masses of the globe,
dividing them into opposing camps, or really a myriad of conflicting parties.
Segments of the proletariat in the dominant countries were even led to believe
that their interests were tied exclusively to their national identity and
imperial destiny. The most significant instances of revolt and revolution
against these modern power structures therefore were those that posed the
struggle against exploitation together with the struggle against nationalism,
colonialism, and imperialism. In these events humanity appeared for a magical
moment to be united by a common desire for liberation, and we seemed to catch a
glimpse of a future when the modern mechanisms of domination would once and for
all be destroyed. The revolting masses, their desire for liberation, their
experiments to construct alternatives, and their instances of constituent power
have all at their best moments pointed toward the internationalization and
globalization of relationships, beyond the divisions of national, colonial, and
imperialist rule. In our time this desire that was set in motion by the
multitude has been addressed (in a strange and perverted but nonetheless real
way) by the construction of Empire. One might even say that the construction of
Empire and its global networks is a response to the various struggles against
the modern machines of power, and specifically to class struggle driven by the
multitude's desire for liberation. The multitude called Empire into being.
Saying that Empire is good in itself, however, does not mean that it is good for
itself. Although Empire may have played a role in putting an end to colonialism
and imperialism, it nonetheless constructs its own relationships of power based
on exploitation that are in many respects more brutal than those it destroyed.
The end of the dialectic of modernity has not resulted in the end of the
dialectic of exploitation. Today nearly all of humanity is to some degree
absorbed within or subordinated to the networks of capitalist exploitation. We
see now an ever more extreme separation of a small minority that controls
enormous wealth from multitudes that live in poverty at the limit of
powerlessness. The geographical and racial lines of oppression and exploitation
that were established during the era of colonialism and imperialism have in many
respects not declined but instead increased exponentially.
This is when the ontological drama begins, when the curtain goes up on a scene
in which the development of Empire becomes its own critique and its process of
construction becomes the process of its overturning. This drama is ontological
in the sense that here, in these processes, being is produced and reproduced.
This drama will have to be clarified and articulated much further as our study
proceeds, but we should insist right from the outset that this is not simply
another variant of dialectical Enlightenment. We are not proposing the umpteenth
version of the inevitable passage through purgatory (here in the guise of the
new imperial machine) in order to offer a glimmer of hope for radiant futures.
We are not repeating the schema of an ideal teleology that justifies any passage
in the name of a promised end. On the contrary, our reasoning here is based on
two methodological approaches that are intended to be nondialectical and
absolutely immanent: the first is critical and deconstructive, aiming to subvert
the hegemonic languages and social structures and thereby reveal an alternative
ontological basis that resides in the creative and productive practices of the
multitude; the second is constructive and ethico-political, seeking to lead the
processes of the production of subjectivity toward the constitution of an
effective social, political alternative, a new constituent power.[6] Our
critical approach addresses the need for a real ideological and material
deconstruction of the imperial order. In the postmodern world, the ruling
spectacle of Empire is constructed through a variety of self-legitimating
discourses and structures. Long ago authors as diverse as Lenin, Horkheimer and
Adorno, and Debord recognized this spectacle as the destiny oftriumphant
capitalism. Despite their important differences, such authors offer us real
anticipations of the path of capitalist development.[7] Our deconstruction of
this spectacle cannot be textual alone, but must seek continually to focus its
powers on the nature of events and the real determinations of the imperial
processes in motion today. The critical approach is thus intended to bring to
light the contradictions, cycles, and crises of the process because in each of
these moments the imagined necessity of the historical development can open
toward alternative possibilities. In other words, the deconstruction of the
historia rerum gestarum, of the spectral reign of globalized capitalism, reveals
the possibility of alternative social organizations. This is perhaps as far as
we can go with the methodological scaffolding of a critical and materialist
deconstructionism-but this is already an enormous contribution![8]
This is where the first methodological approach has to pass the baton to the
second, the constructive and ethico-political approach. Here we must delve into
the ontological substrate of the concrete alternatives continually pushed
forward by the res gestae, the subjective forces acting in the historical
context. What appears here is not a new rationality but a new scenario of
different rational acts-a horizon of activities, resistances, wills, and desires
that refuse the hegemonic order, propose lines of flight, and forge alternative
constitutive itineraries. This real substrate, open to critique, revised by the
ethico-political approach, represents the real ontological referent of
philosophy, or really the field proper to a philosophy of liberation. This
approach breaks methodologically with every philosophy of history insofar as it
refuses any deterministic conception of historical development and any
"rational" celebration of the result. It demonstrates, on the contrary, how the
historical event resides in potentiality. "It is not the two that recompose in
one, but the one that opens into two," according to the beautiful anti-Confucian
(and anti-Platonic) formula of the Chinese revolutionaries.[9] Philosophy is not
the owl of Minerva that takes flight after history has been realized in order to
celebrate its happy ending; rather, philosophy is subjective proposition,
desire, and praxis that are applied to the event.
There was a time, not so long ago, when internationalism was a key component of
proletarian struggles and progressive politics in general. "The proletariat has
no country," or better, "the country of the proletariat is the entire world."
The "Internationale" was the hymn of revolutionaries, the song of utopian
futures. We should note that the utopia expressed in these slogans is in fact
not really internationalist, ifby internationalist we understand a kind of
consensus among the various national identities that preserves their differences
but negotiates some limited agreement. Rather, proletarian internationalism was
antinationalist, and hence supranational and global. Workers of the world
unite!-not on the basis of national identities but directly through common needs
and desires, without regard to borders and boundaries.
Internationalism was the will of an active mass subject that recognized that the
nation-states were key agents of capitalist exploitation and that the multitude
was continually drafted to fight their senseless wars-in short, that the nation-
state was a political form whose contradictions could not be subsumed and
sublimated but only destroyed. International solidarity was really a project for
the destruction of the nation-state and the construction of a new global
community. This proletarian program stood behind the often ambiguous tactical
definitions that socialist and communist parties produced during the century of
their hegemony over the proletariat.[10] If the nation-state was a central link
in the chain of domination and thus had to be destroyed, then the national
proletariat had as a primary task destroying itself insofar as it was defined by
the nation and thus bringing international solidarity out of the prison in which
it had been trapped. International solidarity had to be recognized not as an act
of charity or altruism for the good of others, a noble sacrifice for another
national working class, but rather as proper to and inseparable from each
national proletariat's own desire and struggle for liberation. Proletarian
internationalism constructed a paradoxical and powerful political machine that
pushed continually beyond the boundaries and hierarchies of the nation-states
and posed utopian futures only on the global terrain.
Today we should all clearly recognize that the time of such proletarian
internationalism is over. That does not negate the fact, however, that the
concept of internationalism really lived among the masses and deposited a kind
of geological stratum of suffering and desire, a memory of victories and
defeats, a residue of ideological tensions and needs. Furthermore, the
proletariat does in fact find itself today not just international but (at least
tendentially) global. One might be tempted to say that proletarian
internationalism actually "won" in light of the fact that the powers of nation-
states have declined in the recent passage toward globalization and Empire, but
that would be a strange and ironic notion of victory. It is more accurate to
say, following the William Morris quotation that serves as one of the epigraphs
for this book, that what they fought for came about despite their defeat.
It would not be hard to map the periods of extreme intensity of these cycles. A
first wave might be seen as beginning after 1848 with the political agitation of
the First International, continuing in the 1880s and 1890s with the formation of
socialist political and trade union organizations, and then rising to a peak
after the Russian revolution of 1905 and the first international cycle of anti-
imperialist struggles.[11] A second wave arose after the Soviet revolution of
1917, which was followed by an international progression of struggles that could
only be contained by fascisms on one side and reabsorbed by the New Deal and
antifascist fronts on the other. And finally there was the wave of struggles
that began with the Chinese revolution and proceeded through the African and
Latin American liberation struggles to the explosions of the 1960s throughout
the world. These international cycles of struggles were the real motor that
drove the development of the institutions of capital and that drove it in a
process of ref orm and restructuring.[12] Proletarian, anticolonial, and anti-
imperialist internationalism, the struggle for communism, which lived in all the
most powerful insurrectional events of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries,
anticipated and prefigured the processes of the globalization of capital and the
formation of Empire. In this way the formation of Empire is a response to
proletarian internationalism. There is nothing dialectical or teleological about
this anticipation and prefiguration of capitalist development by the mass
struggles. On the contrary, the struggles themselves are demonstrations of the
creativity of desire, utopias of lived experience, the workings of historicity
as potentiality-in short, the struggles are the naked reality of the res gestae.
A teleology of sorts is constructed only after the fact, post festum.
The struggles that preceded and prefigured globalization were expressions of the
force of living labor, which sought to liberate itself from the rigid
territorializing regimes imposed on it. As it contests the dead labor
accumulated against it, living labor always seeks to break the fixed
territorializing structures, the national organizations, and the political
figures that keep it prisoner. With the force of living labor, its restless
activity, and its deterritorializing desire, this process of rupture throws open
all the windows of history. When one adopts the perspective of the activity of
the multitude, its production of subjectivity and desire, one can recognize how
globalization, insofar as it operates a real deterritorialization of the
previous structures of exploitation and control, is really a condition of the
liberation of the multitude. But how can this potential for liberation be
realized today? Does that same uncontainable desire for freedom that broke and
buried the nation-state and that determined the transition toward Empire still
live beneath the ashes of the present, the ashes of the fire that consumed the
internationalist proletarian subject that was centered on the industrial working
class? What has come to stand in the place of that subject? In what sense can we
say that the ontological rooting of a new multitude has come to be a positive or
alternative actor in the articulation of globalization?
We need to recognize that the very subject of labor and revolt has changed
profoundly. The composition of the proletariat has transformed and thus our
understanding of it must too. In conceptual terms we understand proletariat as a
broad category that includes all those whose labor is directly or indirectly
exploited by and subjected to capitalist norms of production and
reproduction.[13] In a previous era the category of the proletariat centered on
and was at times effectively subsumed under the industrial working class, whose
paradigmatic figure was the male mass factory worker. That industrial working
class was often accorded the leading role over other figures of labor (such as
peasant labor and reproductive labor) in both economic analyses and political
movements. Today that working class has all but disappeared from view. It has
not ceased to exist, but it has been displaced from its privileged position in
the capitalist economy and its hegemonic position in the class composition of
the proletariat. The proletariat is not what it used to be, but that does not
mean it has vanished. It means, rather, that we are faced once again with the
analytical task of understanding the new composition of the proletariat as a
class.
The fact that under the category of proletariat we understand all those
exploited by and subject to capitalist domination should not indicate that the
proletariat is a homogeneous or undifferentiated unit. It is indeed cut through
in various directions by differences and stratifications. Some labor is waged,
some is not; some labor is restricted to within the factory walls, some is
dispersed across the unbounded social terrain; some labor is limited to eight
hours a day and forty hours a week, some expands to fill the entire time of
life; some labor is accorded a minimal value, some is exalted to the pinnacle of
the capitalist economy. We will argue (in Section 3.4) that among the various
figures of production active today, the figure of immaterial labor power
(involved in communication, cooperation, and the production and reproduction of
affects) occupies an increasingly central position in both the schema of
capitalist production and the composition of the proletariat. Our point here is
that all of these diverse forms of labor are in some way subject to capitalist
discipline and capitalist relations of production. This fact of being within
capital and sustaining capital is what defines the proletariat as a class.
We need to look more concretely at the form of the struggles in which this new
proletariat expresses its desires and needs. In the last half-century, and in
particular in the two decades that stretched from 1968 to the fall of the Berlin
Wall, the restructuring and global expansion of capitalist production have been
accompanied by a transformation of proletarian struggles. As we said, the figure
of an international cycle of struggles based on the communication and
translation of the common desires of labor in revolt seems no longer to exist.
The fact that the cycle as the specific form of the assemblage of struggles has
vanished, however, does not simply open up to an abyss. On the contrary, we can
recognize powerful events on the world scene that reveal the trace of the
multitude's refusal of exploitation and that signal a new kind of proletarian
solidarity and militancy. Consider the most radical and powerful struggles of
the final years of the twentieth century: the Tiananmen Square events in 1989,
the Intifada against Israeli state authority, the May 1992 revolt in Los
Angeles, the uprising in Chiapas that began in 1994, and the series of strikes
that paralyzed France in December 1995, and those that crippled South Korea in
1996. Each of these struggles was specific and based on immediate regional
concerns in such a way that they could in no respect be linked together as a
globally expanding chain of revolt. None of these events inspired a cycle of
struggles, because the desires and needs they expressed could not be translated
into different contexts. In other words, (potential) revolutionaries in other
parts of the world did not hear of the events in Beijing, Nablus, Los Angeles,
Chiapas, Paris, or Seoul and immediately recognize them as their own struggles.
Furthermore, these struggles not only fail to communicate to other contexts but
also lack even a local communication, and thus often have a very briefduration
where they are born, burning out in a flash. This is certainly one of the
central and most urgent political paradoxes of our time: in our much celebrated
age of communication, struggles have become all but incommunicable.
We ought to be able to recognize that this is not the appearance of a new cycle
of internationalist struggles, but rather the emergence of a new quality of
social movements. We ought to be able to recognize, in other words, the
fundamentally new characteristics these struggles all present, despite their
radical diversity. First, each struggle, though firmly rooted in local
conditions, leaps immediately to the global level and attacks the imperial
constitution in its generality. Second, all the struggles destroy the
traditional distinction between economic and political struggles. The struggles
are at once economic, political, and cultural-and hence they are biopolitical
struggles, struggles over the form of life. They are constituent struggles,
creating new public spaces and new forms of community.
We ought to be able to recognize all this, but it is not that easy. We must
admit, in fact, that even when trying to individuate the real novelty of these
situations, we are hampered by the nagging impression that these struggles are
always already old, outdated, and anachronistic. The struggles at Tiananmen
Square spoke a language of democracy that seemed long out of fashion; the
guitars, headbands, tents, and slogans all looked like a weak echo of Berkeley
in the 1960s. The Los Angeles riots, too, seemed like an aftershock of the
earthquake of racial conflicts that shook the United States in the 1960s. The
strikes in Paris and Seoul seemed to take us back to the era of the mass factory
worker, as if they were the last gasp of a dying working class. All these
struggles, which pose really new elements, appear from the beginning to be
already old and outdated-precisely because they cannot communicate, because
their languages cannot be translated. The struggles do not communicate despite
their being hypermediatized, on television, the Internet, and every other
imaginable medium. Once again we are confronted by the paradox of
incommunicability.
From the point of view of the revolutionary tradition, one might object that the
tactical successes of revolutionary actions in the nineteenth and twentieth
centuries were all characterized precisely by the capacity to blast open the
weakest link of the imperialist chain, that this is the ABC of revolutionary
dialectics, and thus it would seem today that the situation is not very
promising. It is certainly true that the serpentine struggles we are witnessing
today do not provide any clear revolutionary tactics, or maybe they are
completely incomprehensible from the point of view oftactics. Faced as we are
with a series of intense subversive social movements that attack the highest
levels of imperial organization, however, it may be no longer useful to insist
on the old distinction between strategy and tactics. In the constitution of
Empire there is no longer an "outside" to power and thus no longer weak links-
ifby weak link we mean an external point where the articulations of global power
are vulnerable.[19] To achieve significance, every struggle must attack at the
heart of Empire, at its strength. That fact, however, does not give priority to
any geographical regions, as ifonly social movements in Washington, Geneva, or
Tokyo could attack the heart of Empire. On the contrary, the construction of
Empire, and the globalization of economic and cultural relationships, means that
the virtual center of Empire can be attacked from any point. The tactical
preoccupations of the old revolutionary school are thus completely
irretrievable; the only strategy available to the struggles is that of a
constituent counterpower that emerges from within Empire.
Those who have difficulty accepting the novelty and revolutionary potential of
this situation from the perspective of the struggles themselves might recognize
it more easily from the perspective of imperial power, which is constrained to
react to the struggles. Even when these struggles become sites effectively
closed to communication, they are at the same time the maniacal focus of the
critical attention of Empire.[20] They are educational lessons in the classroom
of administration and the chambers of government-lessons that demand repressive
instruments. The primary lesson is that such events cannot be repeated if the
processes of capitalist globalization are to continue. These struggles, however,
have their own weight, their own specific intensity, and moreover they are
immanent to the procedures and developments of imperial power. They invest and
sustain the processes of globalization themselves. Imperial power whispers the
names of the struggles in order to charm them into passivity, to construct a
mystified image of them, but most important to discover which processes of
globalization are possible and which are not. In this contradictory and
paradoxical way the imperial processes of globalization assume these events,
recognizing them as both limits and opportunities to recalibrate Empire's own
instruments. The processes of globalization would not exist or would come to a
halt if they were not continually both frustrated and driven by these explosions
of the multitude that touch immediately on the highest levels of imperial power.
Two-Headed Eagle
The emblem of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, an eagle with two heads, might give
an adequate initial representation of the contemporary form of Empire. But
whereas in the earlier emblem the two heads looked outward to designate the
relative autonomy and peaceful coexistence of the respective territories, in our
case the two heads would have to be turned inward, each attacking the other. The
first head of the imperial eagle is a juridical structure and a constituted
power, constructed by the machine of biopolitical command. The juridical process
and the imperial machine are always subject to contradictions and crises. Order
and peace-the eminent values that Empire proposes-can never be achieved but are
nonetheless continually reproposed. The juridical process of the constitution of
Empire lives this constant crisis that is considered (at least by the most
attentive theoreticians) the price of its own development. There is, however,
always a surplus. Empire's continual extension and constant pressure to adhere
ever more closely to the complexity and depth of the biopolitical realm force
the imperial machine when it seems to resolve one conflict continually to open
others. It tries to make them commensurate with its project, but they emerge
once again as incommensurable, with all the elements of the new terrain mobile
in space and flexible in time.
The other head of the imperial eagle is the plural multitude of productive,
creative subjectivities of globalization that have learned to sail on this
enormous sea. They are in perpetual motion and they form constellations of
singularities and events that impose continual global reconfigurations on the
system. This perpetual motion can be geographical, but it can refer also to
modulations of form and processes of mixture and hybridization. The relationship
between "system" and "asystemic movements" cannot be flattened onto any logic of
correspondence in this perpetually modulating atopia.[21] Even the asystemic
elements produced by the new multitude are in fact global forces that cannot
have a commensurate relationship, even an inverted one, with the system. Every
insurrectional event that erupts within the order of the imperial system
provokes a shock to the system in its entirety. From this perspective, the
institutional frame in which we live is characterized by its radical contingency
and precariousness, or really by the unforeseeability of the sequences of
events-sequences that are always more briefor more compact temporally and thus
ever less controllable.[22] It becomes ever more difficult for Empire to
intervene in the unforeseeable temporal sequences of events when they accelerate
their temporality. The most relevant aspect that the struggles have demonstrated
may be sudden accelerations, often cumulative, that can become virtually
simultaneous, explosions that reveal a properly ontological power and
unforeseeable attack on the most central equilibria of Empire.
At this point, however, we should recognize that our metaphor breaks down and
that the two-headed eagle is not really an adequate representation of the
relationship between Empire and the multitude, because it poses the two on the
same level and thus does not recognize the real hierarchies and discontinuities
that define their relationship. From one perspective Empire stands clearly over
the multitude and subjects it to the rule of its overarching machine, as a new
Leviathan. At the same time, however, from the perspective of social
productivity and creativity, from what we have been calling the ontological
perspective, the hierarchy is reversed. The multitude is the real productive
force of our social world, whereas Empire is a mere apparatus of capture that
lives only off the vitality of the multitude-as Marx would say, a vampire regime
of accumulated dead labor that survives only by sucking off the blood of the
living.
Once we adopt this ontological standpoint, we can return to the juridical
framework we investigated earlier and recognize the reasons for the real deficit
that plagues the transition from international public law to the new public law
of Empire, that is, the new conception of right that defines Empire. In other
words, the frustration and the continual instability suffered by imperial right
as it attempts to destroy the old values that served as reference points for
international public law (the nation-states, the international order of
Westphalia, the United Nations, and so forth) along with the so-called
turbulence that accompanies this process are all symptoms of a properly
ontological lack. As it constructs its supranational figure, power seems to be
deprived of any real ground beneath it, or rather, it is lacking the motor that
propels its movement. The rule of the biopolitical imperial context should thus
be seen in the first instance as an empty machine, a spectacular machine, a
parasitical machine. A new sense of being is imposed on the constitution of
Empire by the creative movement of the multitude, or really it is continually
present in this process as an alternative paradigm. It is internal to Empire and
pushes forward its constitution, not as a negative that constructs a positive or
any such dialectical resolution. Rather it acts as an absolutely positive force
that pushes the dominating power toward an abstract and empty unification, to
which it appears as the distinct alternative. From this perspective, when the
constituted power of Empire appears merely as privation of being and production,
as a simple abstract and empty trace of the constituent power of the multitude,
then we will be able to recognize the real standpoint of our analysis. It is a
standpoint that is both strategic and tactical, when the two are no longer
different.
POLITICAL MANIFESTO
Perhaps we need to reinvent the notion of the materialist teleology that Spinoza
proclaimed at the dawn of modernity when he claimed that the prophet produces
its own people.[2] Perhaps along with Spinoza we should recognize prophetic
desire as irresistible, and all the more powerful the more it becomes identified
with the multitude. It is not at all clear that this prophetic function can
effectively address our political needs and sustain a potential manifesto of the
postmodern revolution against Empire, but certain analogies and paradoxical
coincidences do seem striking. For example, whereas Machiavelli proposes that
the project of constructing a new society from below requires "arms" and "money"
and insists that we must look for them outside, Spinoza responds: Don't we
already posses them? Don't the necessary weapons reside precisely within the
creative and prophetic power of the multitude? Perhaps we, too, locating
ourselves within the revolutionary desire of postmodernity, can in turn respond:
Don't we already possess "arms" and "money"? The kind of money that Machiavelli
insists is necessary may in fact reside in the productivity of the multitude,
the immediate actor of biopolitical production and reproduction. The kind of
arms in question may be contained in the potential of the multitude to sabotage
and destroy with its own productive force the parasitical order of postmodern
command.
Fran‡ois Guizot
In the early twentieth-century Vienna of Robert Musil's novel The Man without
Qualities, an enlightened aristocrat, Count Leinsdorf, puzzles out the
complexities of modernity but gets stuck on a central paradox. "What I still
don't understand," he says, "is this: That people should love each other, and
that it takes a firm hand in government to make them do it, is nothing new. So
why should it suddenly be a case of either/or?"[1] For the philanthropists of
Musil's world there is a conflict at the center of modernity between, on the one
hand, the immanent forces of desire and association, the love of the community,
and on the other, the strong hand of an overarching authority that imposes and
enforces an order on the social field. This tension was to be resolved, or at
least mediated, by the sovereignty of the state, and yet it continually
resurfaces as a question of either/or: freedom or servitude, the liberation of
desire or its subjugation. Count Leinsdorflucidly identifies a contradiction
that runs throughout European modernity and resides at the heart of the modern
concept of sovereignty.
It all began with a revolution. In Europe, between 1200 and 1600, across
distances that only merchants and armies could travel and only the invention of
the printing press would later bring together, something extraordinary happened.
Humans declared themselves masters of their own lives, producers of cities and
history, and inventors of heavens. They inherited a dualistic consciousness, a
hierarchical vision of society, and a metaphysical idea of science; but they
handed down to future generations an experimental idea of science, a constituent
conception of history and cities, and they posed being as an immanent terrain of
Knowledge and action. The thought of this initial period, born simultaneously in
politics, science, art, philosophy, and theology, demonstrates the radicality of
the forces at work in modernity.
Modernity's beginnings were revolutionary, and the old order was toppled by
them. The constitution of modernity was not about theory in isolation but about
theoretical acts indissolubly tied to mutations of practice and reality. Bodies
and brains were fundamentally transformed. This historical process of
subjectivization was revolutionary in the sense that it determined a
paradigmatic and irreversible change in the mode of life of the multitude.
Modernity as Crisis
Modernity is not a unitary concept but rather appears in at least two modes. The
first mode is the one we have already defined, a radical revolutionary process.
This modernity destroys its relations with the past and declares the immanence
of the new paradigm of the world and life. It develops knowledge and action as
scientific experimentation and defines a tendency toward a democratic politics,
posing humanity and desire at the center of history. From the artisan to the
astronomer, from the merchant to the politician, in art as in religion, the
material of existence is reformed by a new life. This new emergence, however,
created a war. How could such a radical overturning not incite strong
antagonism? How could this revolution not determine a counterrevolution? There
was indeed a counterrevolution in the proper sense of the term: a cultural,
philosophical, social, and political initiative that, since it could neither
return to the past nor destroy the new forces, sought to dominate and
expropriate the force of the emerging movements and dynamics. This is the second
mode of modernity, constructed to wage war against the new forces and establish
an overarching power to dominate them. It arose within the Renaissance
revolution to divert its direction, transplant the new image of humanity to a
transcendent plane, relativize the capacities of science to transform the world,
and above all oppose the reappropriation of power on the part of the multitude.
The second mode of modernity poses a transcendent constituted power against an
immanent constituent power, order against desire. The Renaissance thus ended in
war- religious, social, and civil war.
The European Renaissance, but above all the Italian Renaissance, with the
splendid and perverse works that characterize it, was the site of the civil war
over the realization of modernity. When the Reformation spread throughout
Europe, it was like a second cyclone added to the first, repeating in the
religious consciousness of the masses the alternatives of humanist culture. The
civil war thus invested popular life and mingled with the most intimate recesses
of human history. Class struggle moved across this terrain, marshaling up in the
genesis of capitalism the creativity of the new mode of laboring and the new
order of exploitation within a logic that carries together signs of both
progress and reaction. It was a clash of titans, like the one Michelangelo
depicted on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel: the tragic conflict of the
genesis of modernity.
The revolution of European modernity ran into its Thermidor. In the struggle for
hegemony over the paradigm of modernity, victory went to the second mode and the
forces of order that sought to neutralize the power of the revolution. Although
it was not possible to go back to the way things were, it was nonetheless
possible to reestablish ideologies of command and authority, and thus deploy a
new transcendent power by playing on the anxiety and fear of the masses, their
desire to reduce the uncertainty of life and increase security. The revolution
had to be stopped. Throughout the sixteenth century, whenever the fruits of the
revolution appeared in all their splendor, the scene had to be painted in
twilight colors. The demand for peace became paramount-but which peace? While
the Thirty Years' War in the heart of Europe exemplified in the most terrible
forms the outlines of this irreversible crisis, the consciousnesses, even the
strongest and wisest, yielded to the necessity of the Thermidor and the
conditions of the miserable and humiliating peace. Peace was a value that in a
short stretch of time had lost the humanist, Erasmian connotations that had
previously made it the path of transformation. Peace had become the miserable
condition of survival, the extreme urgency of escaping death. Peace was marked
simply by the fatigue of the struggle and the usury of the passions. The
Thermidor had won, the revolution was over. The Thermidor of the revolution,
however, did not close but only perpetuated the crisis. Civil war did not come
to an end but was absorbed within the concept of modernity. Modernity itself is
defined by crisis, a crisis that is born of the uninterrupted conflict between
the immanent, constructive, creative forces and the transcendent power aimed at
restoring order.[12] This conflict is the key to the concept of modernity, but
it was effectively dominated and held in check. The cultural and religious
revolutions were forced toward rigid and sometimes ferocious structures of
containment. In the seventeenth century, Europe became feudal again. The
counterreformist Catholic Church was the first and most effective example of
this reaction, because that church itself earlier had been rocked by an
earthquake of ref orm and revolutionary desire. The Protestant churches and
political orders were not far behind in producing the order of the
counterrevolution. Throughout Europe the fires of superstition were lit. And yet
the movements of renewal continued their work of liberation at the base.
Whereever spaces were closed, movements turned to nomadism and exodus, carrying
with them the desire and hope of an irrepressible experience.[13] The internal
conflict of European modernity was also reflected simultaneously on a global
scale as an external conflict. The development of Renaissance thought coincided
both with the European discovery of the Americas and with the beginnings of
European dominance over the rest of the world. Europe had discovered its
outside. "If the period of the Renaissance marks a qualitative break in the
history of humanity," writes Samir Amin, "it is precisely because, from that
time on, Europeans become conscious of the idea that the conquest of the world
by their civilization is henceforth a possible objective . . . From this moment
on, and not before, Eurocentrism crystallizes."[14] On the one hand, Renaissance
humanism initiated a revolutionary notion of human equality, of singularity and
community, cooperation and multitude, that resonated with forces and desires
extending horizontally across the globe, redoubled by the discovery of other
populations and territories. On the other hand, however, the same
counterrevolutionary power that sought to control the constituent and subversive
forces within Europe also began to realize the possibility and necessity of
subordinating other populations to European domination. Eurocentrism was born as
a reaction to the potentiality of a newfound human equality; it was the
counterrevolution on a global scale. Here too the second mode of modernity
gained the upper hand, but again not in a definitive way. European modernity is
from its beginnings a war on two fronts. European mastery is always in crisis-
and this is the very same crisis that defines European modernity.
We can find testimony to this fact with one single but enormous reference:
Spinoza's philosophy of immanence, which dominated the latter half of the
century of European thought. It is a philosophy that renewed the splendors of
revolutionary humanism, putting humanity and nature in the position of God,
transforming the world into a territory of practice, and affirming the democracy
of the multitude as the absolute form of politics. Spinoza considered the idea
of death-that death that states and powers carried like a weapon against the
desire and hope of liberation-merely a hostage used to blackmail the freedom of
thought, and thus banned it from his philosophy: "A free man thinks about
nothing less than of death, and his knowledge is a meditation on life, not on
death."[15] That love that the humanists considered the supreme form of the
expression of intelligence was posed by Spinoza as the only possible foundation
of the liberation of singularities and as the ethical cement of collective life.
"There is nothing in nature which is contrary to this intellectual Love, or
which can take it away."[16] In this crescendo ofthought, Spinoza testified to
the uninterrupted continuity of the revolutionary program of humanism in the
course of the seventeenth century.
Please do not hesitate to assert and proclaim everywhere that it is God who has
laid down these laws in nature just as a king lays down laws in his kingdom.
There is no single one that we cannot understand ifour mind turns to consider
it. They are all inborn in our minds just as a king would imprint his laws on
the hearts of all his subjects ifhe had enough power to do so. The greatness of
God, on the other hand, is something which we cannot comprehend even though we
know it. But the very fact that we judge it incomprehensible makes us esteem it
the more greatly; just as a king has more majesty when he is less familiarly
known by his subjects, provided of course that they do not get the idea that
they have no king-they must know him enough to be in no doubt about that.[19]
The realm of potentiality, which had been opened by the humanist principle of
subjectivity, is limited a priori by the imposition of transcendent rule and
order. Descartes surreptitiously reproposes theology on the terrain that
humanism had cleared, and its apparatus is resolutely transcendental.
For this same reason Schopenhauer reacted even more violently against Hegel,
calling him an "intellectual Caliban" to indicate the barbarity of his
thought.[23] He found it intolerable that Hegel would transform the pallid
constitutive function of Kant's transcendental critique into a solid ontological
figure with such violence. This was indeed the destiny of the transcendental in
the European ideology of modernity. Hegel revealed what was implicit from the
beginning of the counterrevolutionary development: that the liberation of modern
humanity could only be a function of its domination, that the immanent goal of
the multitude is transformed into the necessary and transcendent power of the
state. It is true that Hegel restores the horizon of immanence and takes away
the uncertainty of Knowledge, the irresolution of action, and the fideist
opening of Kantianism. The immanence Hegel restores, however, is really a blind
immanence in which the potentiality of the multitude is denied and subsumed in
the allegory of the divine order. The crisis of humanism is transformed into a
dialectical dramaturgy, and in every scene the end is everything and the means
are merely ornamentation.
Modern Sovereignty
In Hegel, the synthesis of the theory of modern sovereignty and the theory of
value produced by capitalist political economy is finally realized, just as in
his work there is a perfect realization of the consciousness of the union of the
absolutist and republican aspects-that is, the Hobbesian and Rousseauian
aspects-of the theory of modern sovereignty.
In relation to the spheres of civil law [Privatrecht] and private welfare, the
spheres of the family and civil society, the state is on the one hand an
external necessity and the higher power to whose nature their laws and interests
are subordinate and on which they depend. But on the other hand, it is their
immanent end, and its strength consists in the unity of its universal and
ultimate end with the particular interest of individuals, in the fact that they
have duties towards the state to the same extent as they also have rights.[33]
When the synthesis of sovereignty and capital is fully accomplished, and the
transcendence of power is completely transformed into a transcendental exercise
of authority, then sovereignty becomes a political machine that rules across the
entire society. Through the workings of the sovereignty machine the multitude is
in every moment transformed into an ordered totality. We should play close
attention to this passage because here we can see clearly how the transcendental
schema is an ideology that functions concretely and how different modern
sovereignty is from that of the ancien r‚gime. In addition to being a political
power against all external political powers, a state against all other states,
sovereignty is also a police power. It must continually and extensively
accomplish the miracle of the subsumption of singularities in the totality, of
the will of all into the general will. Modern bureaucracy is the essential organ
of the transcendental-Hegel dixit. And even ifHegel exaggerates a bit in his
quasi-theological consecration of the body of state employees, at least he makes
clear their central role in the effective functioning of the modern state.
Bureaucracy operates the apparatus that combines legality and organizational
efficiency, title and the exercise of power, politics and police. The
transcendental theory of modern sovereignty, thus reaching maturity, realizes a
new "individual" by absorbing society into power. Little by little, as the
administration develops, the relationship between society and power, between the
multitude and the sovereign state, is inverted so that now power and the state
produce society.
This passage in the history of ideas does indeed parallel the development of
social history. It corresponds to the dislocation of the organizational dynamic
of the state from the terrain of medieval hierarchy to that of modern
discipline, from command to function. Max Weber and Michel Foucault, to mention
only the most illustrious, have insisted at length on these metamorphoses in the
sociological figures of power. In the long transition from medieval to modern
society, the first form of the political regime was, as we have seen, rooted in
transcendence. Medieval society was organized according to a hierarchical schema
of degrees of power. This is what modernity blew apart in the course of its
development. Foucault refers to this transition as the passage from the paradigm
of sovereignty to that of governmentality, where by sovereignty he means the
transcendence of the single point of command above the social field, and by
governmentality he means the general economy of discipline that runs throughout
society.[34] We prefer to conceive of this as a passage within the notion of
sovereignty, as a transition to a new form of transcendence. Modernity replaced
the traditional transcendence of command with the transcendence of the ordering
function. Arrangements of discipline had begun to be formed already in the
classical age, but only in modernity did the disciplinary diagram become the
diagram of administration itself. Throughout this passage administration exerts
a continuous, extensive, and tireless effort to make the state always more
intimate to social reality, and thus produce and order social labor. The old
theses, … la Tocqueville, of the continuity of administrative bodies across
different social eras are thus profoundly revised when not completely discarded.
Foucault, however, goes still further to claim that the disciplinary processes,
which are put into practice by the administration, delve so deeply into society
that they manage to configure themselves as apparatuses that take into account
the collective biological dimension of the reproduction of the population. The
realization of modern sovereignty is the birth of biopower.[35]
Before Foucault, Max Weber also described the administrative mechanisms involved
in the formation of modern sovereignty.[36] Whereas Foucault's analysis is vast
in its diachronic breadth, Weber's is powerful in its synchronic depth. With
respect to our discussion of modern sovereignty, Weber's contribution is first
of all his claim that the opening of modernity is defined as a scission-a
creative condition of individuals and the multitude against the process of state
reappropriation. State sovereignty is then defined as a regulation of this
relationship of force. Modernity is above all marked by the tension of the
opposing forces. Every process of legitimation is regulated by this tension, and
operates to block its capacity for rupture and recuperate its creative
initiative. The closure of the crisis of modernity in a new sovereign power can
be given in old and quasi-naturalist forms, as is the case with traditional
legitimation; or rather, it can be given in sacred and innovative, irrationally
innovative, forms, as in charismatic legitimation; or finally, and this is to a
large extent the most effective form of late modernity, it can be given in the
form of administrative rationalization. The analysis of these forms of
legitimation is Weber's second relevant contribution, which builds on the first,
the recognition of the dualism of the paradigm. The third relevant point is
Weber's treatment of the procedural character of the transformation, the always
present and possible interweaving of the various forms of legitimation, and
their continuous capacity to be extended and deepened in the control of social
reality. From this follows a final paradox: ifon the one hand this process
closes the crisis of modernity, on the other hand it reopens it. The form of the
process of closure is as critical and conflictual as the genesis of modernity.
In this respect Weber's work has the great merit to have completely destroyed
the self-satisfied and triumphant conception of the sovereignty of the modern
state that Hegel had produced.
Weber's analysis was quickly taken up by the writers engaged in the critique of
modernity, from Heidegger and Lukaïcs to Horkheimer and Adorno. They all
recognized that Weber had revealed the illusion of modernity, the illusion that
the antagonistic dualism that resides at the base of modernity could be subsumed
in a unitary synthesis investing all of society and politics, including the
productive forces and the relations of production. They recognized, finally,
that modern sovereignty had passed its peak and begun to wane. As modernity
declines, a new season is opened, and here we find again that dramatic
antithesis that was at the origins and basis of modernity. Has anything really
changed? The civil war has erupted again in full force. The synthesis between
the development of productive forces and relations of domination seems once
again precarious and improbable. The desires of the multitude and its antagonism
to every form of domination drive it to divest itself once again of the
processes of legitimation that support the sovereign power. Certainly, no one
would imagine this as a return of that old world of desires that animated the
first humanist revolution. New subjectivities inhabit the new terrain; modernity
and its capitalist relations have completely changed the scene in the course of
its development. And yet something remains: there is a sense of d‚j… vu when we
see the reappearance of the struggles that have continually been passed down
from those origins. The experience of the revolution will be reborn after
modernity, but within the new conditions that modernity constructed in such a
contradictory way. Machiavelli's return to origins seems to be combined with
Nietzsche's heroic eternal return. Everything is different and nothing seems to
have changed. Is this the coming of a new human power? "For this is the secret
of the soul: when the hero hath abandoned it, then only approacheth it in
dreams-the super-hero."[37]
Michel Foucault's final works on the history of sexuality bring to life once
again that same revolutionary impulse that animated Renaissance humanism. The
ethical care of the self reemerges as a constituent power of selfcreation. How
is it possible that the author who worked so hard to convince us of the death of
Man, the thinker who carried the banner of antihumanism throughout his career,
would in the end champion these central tenets of the humanist tradition? We do
not mean to suggest that Foucault contradicts himself or that he reversed his
earlier position; he was always so insistent about the continuity of his
discourse. Rather, Foucault asks in his final work a paradoxical and urgent
question: What is humanism after the death of Man? Or rather, what is an
antihumanist (or posthuman) humanism? This question, however, is only a seeming
paradox that derives at least in part from a terminological confusion between
two distinct notions of humanism. The antihumanism that was such an important
project for Foucault and Althusser in the 1960s can be linked effectively to a
battle that Spinoza fought three hundred years earlier. Spinoza denounced any
understanding of humanity as an imperium in imperio. In other words, he refused
to accord any laws to human nature that were different from the laws of nature
as a whole. Donna Haraway carries on Spinoza's project in our day as she insists
on breaking down the barriers we pose among the human, the animal, and the
machine. If we are to conceive Man as separate from nature, then Man does not
exist. This recognition is precisely the death of Man.
This antihumanism, however, need not conflict with the revolutionary spirit of
Renaissance humanism we outlined earlier from Cusano to Marsilius. In fact, this
antihumanism follows directly on Renaissance humanism's secularizing project, or
more precisely, its discovery of the plane of immanence. Both projects are
founded on an attack on transcendence. There is a strict continuity between the
religious thought that accords a power above nature to God and the modern
"secular" thought that accords that same power above nature to Man. The
transcendence of God is simply transferred to Man. Like God before it, this Man
that stands separate from and above nature has no place in a philosophy of
immanence. Like God, too, this transcendent figure of Man leads quickly to the
imposition of social hierarchy and domination. Antihumanism, then, conceived as
a refusal of any transcendence, should in no way be confused with a negation of
the vis viva, the creative life force that animates the revolutionary stream of
the modern tradition. On the contrary, the refusal of transcendence is the
condition of possibility of thinking this immanent power, an anarchic basis of
philosophy: "Ni Dieu, ni maŒtre, ni l'homme."
We thought we were dying for the fatherland. We realized quickly it was for the
bank vaults.
Anatole France
The concept of nation in Europe developed on the terrain of the patrimonial and
absolutist state. The patrimonial state was defined as the property of the
monarch. In a variety of analogous forms in different countries throughout
Europe, the patrimonial and absolutist state was the political form required to
rule feudal social relations and relations of production.[1] Feudal property had
to be delegated and its usage assigned according to the degrees of the social
division of power, in the same way that levels of administration would have to
be delegated in subsequent centuries. Feudal property was part of the body of
the monarch, just as, if we shift our view toward the metaphysical domain, the
sovereign monarchic body was part of the body of God.[2]
In the sixteenth century, in the midst of the Reformation and that violent
battle among the forces of modernity, the patrimonial monarchy was still
presented as the guarantee of peace and social life. It was still granted
control over social development in such a way that it could absorb that process
within its machine of domination. "Cujus regio, ejus religio"-or really,
religion had to be subordinated to the territorial control of the sovereign.
There was nothing diplomatic about this adage; on the contrary, it confided
entirely to the power of the patrimonial sovereign the management of the passage
to the new order. Even religion was the sovereign's property. In the seventeenth
century, the absolutist reaction to the revolutionary forces of modernity
celebrated the patrimonial monarchic state and wielded it as a weapon for its
own purposes. At that point, however, the celebration of the patrimonial state
could not but be paradoxical and ambiguous, since the feudal bases of its power
were withering away. The processes of the primitive accumulation of capital
imposed new conditions on all the structures of power.[3] Until the era of the
three great bourgeois revolutions (the English, the American, and the French),
there was no political alternative that could successfully oppose this model.
The absolutist and patrimonial model survived in this period only with the
support of a specific compromise of political forces, and its substance was
eroding from the inside owing primarily to the emergence of new productive
forces. The model did survive nonetheless, and, much more important, it was
transformed through the development of some fundamental characteristics that
would be bequeathed to successive centuries.
into that of national sovereignty also required certain new material conditions.
Most important, it required that a new equilibrium be established between the
processes of capitalist accumulation and the structures of power. The political
victory of the bourgeoisie, as the English and French revolutions show well,
corresponded to the perfecting of the concept of modern sovereignty through that
of national sovereignty. Behind the ideal dimension of the concept of nation
there were the class figures that already dominated the processes of
accumulation. "Nation" was thus at once both the hypostasis of the Rousseauian
"general will" and what manufacturing ideology conceived as the "community of
needs" (that is, the capitalist regulation of the market) that in the long era
of primitive accumulation in Europe was more or less liberal and always
bourgeois. When in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries the concept of nation
was taken up in very different ideological contexts and led popular
mobilizations in regions and countries within and outside Europe that had
experienced neither the liberal revolution nor the same level of primitive
accumulation, it still always was presented as a concept of capitalist
modernization, which claimed to bring together the interclass demands for
political unity and the needs of economic development. In other words, the
nation was posed as the one and only active vehicle that could deliver modernity
and development. Rosa Luxemburg argued vehemently (and futilely) against
nationalism in the debates internal to the Third International in the years
before the First World War. Luxemburg opposed a policy of "national self-
determination" for Poland as an element of the revolutionary platform, but her
indictment of nationalism was much more general.[7] Her critique of the nation
was not merely a critique of modernization as such, although she was no doubt
keenly aware of the ambiguities involved in capitalist development; and she was
not primarily concerned with the divisions that nationalisms would inevitably
create within the European working class, although her own nomadic passage
through central and eastern Europe certainly made her extremely sensitive to
this. Luxemburg's most powerful argument, rather, was that nation means
dictatorship and is thus profoundly incompatible with any attempt at democratic
organization. Luxemburg recognized that national sovereignty and national
mythologies effectively usurp the terrain of democratic organization by renewing
the powers ofterritorial sovereignty and modernizing its project through the
mobilization of an active community. The process of constructing the nation,
which renewed the concept of sovereignty and gave it a new definition, quickly
became in each and every historical context an ideological nightmare. The crisis
of modernity, which is the contradictory co-presence of the multitude and a
power that wants to reduce it to the rule of one-that is, the co-presence of a
new productive set of free subjectivities and a disciplinary power that wants to
exploit it-is not finally pacified or resolved by the concept of nation, any
more than it was by the concept of sovereignty or state. The nation can only
mask the crisis ideologically, displace it, and defer its power.
Jean Bodin's work lies at the head of the road in European thought that leads to
the concept of national sovereignty. His masterwork, Les six livres de la
R‚publique, which first appeared in 1576, right in the middle of the Renaissance
crisis, addressed the current civil and religious wars in France and Europe as
its fundamental problem. Bodin confronted political crises, conflicts, and war,
but these elements of rupture did not lead him to pose any idyllic alternative,
not even in simply theoretical or utopian terms. This is why Bodin's work was
not only a seminal contribution to the modern definition of sovereignty but also
an effective anticipation of the subsequent development of sovereignty in
national terms. By adopting a realistic standpoint, he managed to anticipate
modernity's own critique of sovereignty.
Sovereignty, Bodin claimed, cannot be produced by the unity of the Prince and
the multitude, the public and the private, nor can its problem be resolved so
long as one holds to either a contractualist or a natural right framework.
Really, the origin of political power and the definition of sovereignty consist
in the victory of one side over the other, a victory that makes the one
sovereign and the other subject. Force and violence create the sovereign. The
physical determinations of power impose the plenitudo potestatis (the fullness
of power). This is the plenitude and the unity of power, since "the union of[the
republic's] members depends on unity under a single ruler, on whom the
effectiveness of all the rest depends. A sovereign prince is therefore
indispensable, for it is his power which informs all the members of the
republic."[8]
In the natural right school, from Grotius to Althusius and from Thomasius to
Puffendorf, the transcendental figures of sovereignty were brought down to earth
and grounded in the reality of the institutional and administrative processes.
Sovereignty was distributed by setting in motion a system of multiple contracts
designed to intervene on every node of the administrative structure of power.
This process was not oriented toward the apex of the state and the mere title of
sovereignty; rather, the problem of legitimation began to be addressed in terms
of an administrative machine that functioned through the articulations of the
exercise of power. The circle of sovereignty and obedience closed in on itself,
duplicating itself, multiplying, and extending across social reality.
Sovereignty came to be studied less from the perspective of the antagonists
involved in the crisis of modernity and more as an administrative process that
articulates these antagonisms and aims toward a unity in the dialectic of power,
abstacting and reifying it through the historical dynamics. An important segment
of the natural right school thus developed the idea of distributing and
articulating the transcendent sovereignty through the real forms of
administration.[11]
The synthesis that was implicit in the natural right school, however, became
explicit in the context of historicism. Certainly, it would be incorrect to
attribute to the historicism of the Enlightenment the thesis that was really
only developed later by the reactionary schools in the period after the French
Revolution-the thesis, that is, that unites the theory of sovereignty with the
theory of the nation and grounds both of them in a common historical humus. And
yet there are already in this early period the seeds of that later development.
Whereas an important segment of the natural right school developed the idea of
articulating transcendent sovereignty through the real forms of administration,
the historicist thinkers of the Enlightenment attempted to conceive the
subjectivity of the historical process and thereby find an effective ground for
the title and exercise of sovereignty.[12] In the work of Giambattista Vico, for
example, that terrific meteor that shot across the age of Enlightenment, the
determinations of the juridical conception of sovereignty were all grounded in
the power of historical development. The transcendent figures of sovereignty
were translated into indexes of a providential process, which was at once both
human and divine. This construction of sovereignty (or really reification of
sovereignty) in history was very powerful. On this historical terrain, which
forces every ideological construct to confront reality, the genetic crisis of
modernity was never closed-and there was no need for it to close, because the
crisis itself produced new figures that incessantly spurred on historical and
political development, all still under the rule of the transcendent sovereign.
What an ingenious inversion of the problematic! And yet, at the same time, what
a complete mystification of sovereignty! The elements of the crisis, a
continuous and unresolved crisis, were now considered active elements of
progress. In effect, we can already recognize in Vico the embryo of Hegel's
apologia of "effectiveness," making the present world arrangement the telos of
history.[13]
What remained hints and suggestions in Vico, however, emerged as an open and
radical declaration in the late German Enlightenment. In the Hannover school
first, and then in the work of J. G. Herder, the modern theory of sovereignty
was directed exclusively toward the analysis of what was conceived as a social
and cultural continuity: the real historical continuity of the territory, the
population, and the nation. Vico's argument that ideal history is located in the
history of all nations became more radical in Herder so that every human
perfection is, in a certain respect, national.[14] Identity is thus conceived
not as the resolution of social and historical differences but as the product of
a primordial unity. The nation is a complete figure of sovereignty prior to
historical development; or better, there is no historical development that is
not already prefigured in the origin. In other words, the nation sustains the
concept of sovereignty by claiming to precede it.[15] It is the material engine
that courses throughout history, the "genius" that works history. The nation
becomes finally the condition of possibility of all human action and social life
itself.
Between the end of the eighteenth and the beginning of the nineteenth centuries,
the concept of national sovereignty finally emerged in European thought in its
completed form. At the base of this definitive figure of the concept were a
trauma, the French Revolution, and the resolution of that trauma, the
reactionary appropriation and celebration of the concept of nation. The
fundamental elements of this swift reconfiguration of the concept of nation that
made it a real political weapon can be seen in summary form in the work of
Emmanuel-Joseph SieyŠs. In his wonderful and libelous tract What Is the Third
Estate? he linked the concept of nation to that of the Third Estate, that is,
the bourgeoisie. SieyŠs tried to lead the concept of sovereignty back to its
humanist origins and rediscover its revolutionary possibilities. More important
for our purposes, SieyŠs's intense engagement with revolutionary activity
allowed him to interpret the concept of nation as a constructive political
concept, a constitutional mechanism. It gradually becomes clear, however,
particularly in SieyŠs's later work, the work of his followers, and above all
that of his detractors, that although the nation was formed through politics, it
was ultimately a spiritual construction, and the concept of nation was thus
stripped away from the revolution, consigned to all the Thermidors. The nation
became explicitly the concept that summarized the bourgeois hegemonic solution
to the problem of sovereignty.[16]
At those points when the concept of nation has been presented as popular and
revolutionary, as indeed it was during the French Revolution, one might assume
that the nation has broken away from the modern concept of sovereignty and its
apparatus of subjugation and domination, and is dedicated instead to a
democratic notion of community. The link between the concept of nation and the
concept of people was indeed a powerful innovation, and it did constitute the
center of the Jacobin sensibility as well as that of other revolutionary groups.
What appears as revolutionary and liberatory in this notion of national, popular
sovereignty, however, is really nothing more than another turn of the screw, a
further extension of the subjugation and domination that the modern concept of
sovereignty has carried with it from the beginning. The precarious power of
sovereignty as a solution to the crisis of modernity was first referred for
support to the nation, and then when the nation too was revealed as a precarious
solution, it was further referred to the people. In other words, just as the
concept of nation completes the notion of sovereignty by claiming to precede it,
so too the concept of the people completes that of nation through another
feigned logical regression. Each logical step back functions to solidify the
power of sovereignty by mystifying its basis, that is, by resting on the
naturalness of the concept. The identity of the nation and even more so the
identity of the people must appear natural and originary.
We, by contrast, must de-naturalize these concepts and ask what is a nation and
how is it made, but also, what is a people and how is it made? Although "the
people" is posed as the originary basis of the nation, the modern conception of
the people is in fact a product of the nation-state, and survives only within
its specific ideological context. Many contemporary analyses of nations and
nationalism from a wide variety of perspectives go wrong precisely because they
rely unquestioningly on the naturalness of the concept and identity of the
people. We should note that the concept of the people is very different from
that of the multitude.[17] Already in the seventeenth century, Hobbes was very
mindful of this difference and its importance for the construction of sovereign
order: "It is a great hindrance to civil government, especially monarchical,
that men distinguish not enough between a people and a multitude. The people is
somewhat that is one, having one will, and to whom one action may be attributed;
none of these can be properly said of the multitude. The people rules in all
governments. For even in monarchies the people commands; for the people wills by
the will of one man . . . (however it seem a paradox) the king is the
people."[18] The multitude is a multiplicity, a plane of singularities, an open
set of relations, which is not homogeneous or identical with itself and bears an
indistinct, inclusive relation to those outside of it. The people, in contrast,
tends toward identity and homogeneity internally while posing its difference
from and excluding what remains outside of it. Whereas the multitude is an
inconclusive constituent relation, the people is a constituted synthesis that is
prepared for sovereignty. The people provides a single will and action that is
independent of and often in conflict with the various wills and actions of the
multitude. Every nation must make the multitude into a people.
Subaltern Nationalism
We have been focusing our attention up to this point on the development of the
concept of nation in Europe while Europe was in the process of achieving world
dominance. Outside of Europe, however, the concept of nation has often
functioned very differently. In some respects, in fact, one might even say that
the function of the concept of nation is inverted when deployed among
subordinated rather than dominant groups. Stated most boldly, it appears that
whereas the concept of nation promotes stasis and restoration in the hands of
the dominant, it is a weapon for change and revolution in the hands of the
subordinated.
The nation appears progressive in the second place insofar as it poses the
commonality of a potential community. Part of the "modernizing" effects of the
nation in subordinated countries has been the unification of diverse
populations, breaking down religious, ethnic, cultural, and linguistic barriers.
The unification of countries such as Indonesia, China, and Brazil, for example,
is an ongoing process that involves overcoming innumerable such barriers-and in
many cases this national unification was prepared by the European colonial
power. In cases of diasporic populations, too, the nation seems at times to be
the only concept available under which to imagine the community of the subaltern
group-as, for example, the Aztlaïn is imagined as the geographical homeland of
"la Raza," the spiritual Latino nation in North America. It may be true, as
Benedict Anderson says, that a nation should be understood as an imagined
community-but here we should recognize that the claim is inverted so that the
nation becomes the only way to imagine community! Every imagination of a
community becomes overcoded as a nation, and hence our conception of community
is severely impoverished. Just as in the context of the dominant countries, here
too the multiplicity and singularity of the multitude are negated in the
straitjacket of the identity and homogeneity of the people. Once again, the
unifying power of the subaltern nation is a double-edged sword, at once
progressive and reactionary. Both of these simultaneously progressive and
regressive aspects of subaltern nationalism are present in all their ambiguity
in the tradition of black nationalism in the United States. Although deprived as
it is of any territorial definition (and thus undoubtedly different from the
majority of other subaltern nationalisms), it too presents the two fundamental
progressive functions-sometimes by striving to pose itself in an analogous
position to the proper, territorially defined nations. In the early 1960s, for
example, after the enormous impetus created by the Bandung Conference and the
emerging African and Latin American national liberation struggles, Malcolm X
attempted to redirect the focus of demands of af rican American struggles from
"civil rights" to "human rights" and thus rhetorically shift the forum of appeal
from the U.S. Congress to the U.N. General Assembly.[27] Malcolm X, like many
African American leaders at least since Marcus Garvey, clearly recognized the
powerful position of speaking as a nation and a people. The concept of nation
here configures a defensive position of separation from the hegemonic "external"
power and at the same time represents the autonomous power of the unified
community, the power of the people. More important than any such theoretical and
rhetorical propositions, however, are the actual practices of black nationalism,
that is, the wide variety of activities and phenomena that are conceived by the
actors themselves as expressions of black nationalism: from community drill
teams and parades to meal programs, separate schools, and projects of community
economic development and self-sufficiency. As Wahneema Lubiano puts it, "Black
nationalism is significant for the ubiquity of its presence in black American
lives."[28] In all these various activities and realms of life, black
nationalism names precisely the circuits of self-valorization that constitute
the community and allow for its relative self-determination and self-
constitution. Despite the range of disparate phenomena called black nationalism,
then, we can still recognize in them the two fundamental progressive functions
of subaltern nationalism: the defense and the unification of the community.
Black nationalism can name any expression of the separation and autonomous power
of the African American people.
In the case of black nationalism too, however, the progressive elements are
accompanied inevitably by their reactionary shadows. The repressive forces of
nation and people feed off the self-valorization of the community and destroy
its multiplicity. When black nationalism poses the uniformity and homogeneity of
the African American people as its basis (eclipsing class differences, for
example) or when it designates one segment of the community (such as African
American men) as de facto representatives of the whole, the profound ambiguity
of subaltern nationalism's progressive functions emerges as clearly as ever.[29]
Precisely the structures that play a defensive role with respect to the outside-
in the interest of furthering the power, autonomy, and unity of the community-
are the same that play an oppressive role internally, negating the multiplicity
of the community itself.
When, in the midst of the cold war, the concept of totalitarianism was
introduced into political science, it only touched on extrinsic elements of the
question. In its most coherent form the concept of totalitarianism was used to
denounce the destruction of the democratic public sphere, the continuation of
Jacobinist ideologies, the extreme forms of racist nationalism, and the negation
of market forces. The concept of totalitarianism, however, ought to delve much
more deeply into the real phenomena and at the same time give a better
explanation of them. In fact, totalitarianism consists not simply in totalizing
the effects of social life and subordinating them to a global disciplinary norm,
but also in the negation of social life itself, the erosion of its foundation,
and the theoretical and practical stripping away of the very possibility of the
existence of the multitude. What is totalitarian is the organic foundation and
the unified source of society and the state. The community is not a dynamic
collective creation but a primordial founding myth. An originary notion of the
people poses an identity that homogenizes and purifies the image of the
population while blocking the constructive interactions of differences within
the multitude.
To Toussaint l'Ouverture
Powers that will work for thee; air, earth, and skies;
William Wordsworth
We now need to take a step back and examine the genealogy of the concept of
sovereignty from the perspective of colonialism. The crisis of modernity has
from the beginning had an intimate relation to racial subordination and
colonization. Whereas within its domain the nation-state and its attendant
ideological structures work tirelessly to create and reproduce the purity of the
people, on the outside the nation-state is a machine that produces Others,
creates racial difference, and raises boundaries that delimit and support the
modern subject of sovereignty. These boundaries and barriers, however, are not
impermeable but rather serve to regulate two-way flows between Europe and its
outside. The Oriental, the African, the Amerindian are all necessary components
for the negative foundation of European identity and modern sovereignty as such.
The dark Other of European Enlightenment stands as its very foundation just as
the productive relationship with the "dark continents" serves as the economic
foundation of the European nation-states.[1] The racial conflict intrinsic to
European modernity is another symptom of the permanent crisis that defines
modern sovereignty. The colony stands in dialectical opposition to European
modernity, as its necessary double and irrepressible antagonist. Colonial
sovereignty is another insufficient attempt to resolve the crisis of modernity.
The age of European discovery and the progressively intense communication among
the spaces and peoples of the earth that followed have always carried with them
a real utopian element. But so much blood has been spilled, so many lives and
cultures destroyed, that it seems much more urgent to denounce the barbarity and
horror of western European (and then also U.S., Soviet, and Japanese) expansion
and control over the globe. We think it important, however, not to forget the
utopian tendencies that have always accompanied the progression toward
globalization, even if these tendencies have continually been defeated by the
powers of modern sovereignty. The love of differences and the belief in the
universal freedom and equality of humanity proper to the revolutionary thought
of Renaissance humanism reappear here on a global scale. This utopian element of
globalization is what prevents us from simply falling back into particularism
and isolationism in reaction to the totalizing forces of imperialism and racist
domination, pushing us instead to forge a project of counterglobalization,
counter-Empire. This utopian moment, however, has never been unambiguous. It is
a tendency that constantly conflicts with sovereign order and domination. We see
three exemplary expressions of this utopianism, in all its ambiguity, in the
thought of Bartolom‚ de Las Casas, Toussaint L'Ouverture, and Karl Marx.
One should recognize at the same time, however, that a missionary vocation is
intrinsically linked to the humanitarian project of the good bishop of Chiapas.
In fact, Las Casas can think equality only in terms of sameness. The Amerindians
are equal to Europeans in nature only insofar as they are potentially European,
or really potentially Christian: "The nature of men is the same and all are
called by Christ in the same way."[2] Las Casas cannot see beyond the
Eurocentric view of the Americas, in which the highest generosity and charity
would be bringing the Amerindians under the control and tutelage of the true
religion and its culture. The natives are undeveloped potential Europeans. In
this sense Las Casas belongs to a discourse that extends well into the twentieth
century on the perfectibility of savages. For the Amerindians, just as for the
Jews of sixteenth-century Spain, the path to freedom from persecution must pass
first through Christian conversion. Las Casas is really not so far from the
Inquisition. He recognizes that humankind is one, but cannot see that it is also
simultaneously many.
More than two centuries after Las Casas, in the late eighteenth century, when
Europe's domination over the Americas had changed form from conquest, massacre,
and pillage to the more stable colonial structure of large-scale slave
production and trade exclusives, a black slave named Toussaint L'Ouverture led
the first successful independence struggle against modern slavery in the French
colony of Saint Domingue (now Haiti). Toussaint L'Ouverture breathed in the
rhetoric of the French Revolution emanating from Paris in its pure form. If the
French revolutionaries opposing the ancien r‚gime proclaimed the universal human
right to "libert‚, egalit‚, et fraternit‚," Toussaint assumed that the blacks,
mulattoes, and whites of the colony were also included under the broad umbrella
of the rights of citizens. He took the victory over the feudal aristocracy and
the exaltation of universal values in Europe to imply also the victory over the
"race aristocracy" and the abolition of slavery. All will now be free citizens,
equal brothers in the new French republic. The letters of Toussaint to French
military and governmental leaders pursue the rhetoric of the revolution
faultlessly to its logical conclusion and thereby reveal its hypocrisy. Perhaps
naively or perhaps as a conscious political tactic, Toussaint demonstrates how
the leaders of the revolution betray the principles they claim to hold most
dear. In a report to the Directoire on 14 Brumaire an VI (November 5, 1797),
Toussaint warned the French leaders that any return to slavery, any compromise
of principles, would be impossible. A declaration of freedom is irreversible:
"Do you think that men who have enjoyed the blessing of liberty will calmly see
it snatched away? . . . But no, the same hand that has broken our chains will
not enslave us anew. France will not revoke her principles, she will not
withdraw from us the greatest of her benefits."[3]
The proclamations of universal rights launched so confidently in Paris come back
from Saint Domingue only to strike horror in the hearts of the French. In the
voyage across the Atlantic, the universality of the ideals became more real and
were put into practice. As Aim‚ C‚saire puts it, Toussaint L'Ouverture pushed
the project forward across the terrain "that separates the only thought from
concrete reality; right from its actualization; reason from its proper
truth."[4] Toussaint takes the Declaration of the Rights of Man to the letter
and insists on its full translation into practice. The revolution under
Toussaint does not seek liberation from European domination only to return to a
lost African world or reestablish in isolation traditional forms of rule;
Toussaint looks forward to the forms of liberty and equality newly made
available in the increasingly interconnected world.[5]
At times, however, Toussaint writes as if the very idea of freedom had been
created by the French, and as if he and his insurgent companions were free only
by the grace of Paris. This may be merely a rhetorical strategy of Toussaint's,
an example of his ironic obsequiousness toward the French rulers; but certainly
one should not think freedom to be a European idea. The slaves of Saint Domingue
had revolted against their masters ever since their capture and forced
immigration from Africa. They were not granted freedom but won it through bloody
and tireless battle. Neither the desire for freedom nor its conquest originated
in France, and the blacks of Saint Domingue did not need the Parisians to teach
them to fight for it. What Toussaint does receive and make good use of is the
specific rhetoric of the French revolutionaries that gives legitimate form to
his quest for liberation. In the nineteenth century Karl Marx, like Las Casas
and Toussaint L'Ouverture before him, recognized the utopian potential of the
ever-increasing processes of global interaction and communication. Like Las
Casas, Marx was horrified by the brutality of European conquest and
exploitation. Capitalism was born in Europe through the blood and sweat of
conquered and colonized non-European peoples: "The veiled slavery of the wage-
labourers in Europe needed the unqualified slavery of the New World as its
pedestal."[6] Like Toussaint L'Ouverture, Marx recognized human freedom as a
universal project to be realized through practice and from which no population
should be excluded.
This global utopian vein in Marx is nonetheless ambiguous, perhaps even more so
than in the other two cases, as we can see clearly from the series of articles
he wrote for the New York Daily Tribune in 1853 on British rule in India. Marx's
primary goal in these articles was to explain the debate going on at the time in
the British Parliament over the status of the East India Company and situate the
debate in the history of British colonial rule. Marx is of course quick to note
the brutality of the introduction of British "civilization" into India and the
havoc and suffering wrought by the rapacious greed of British capital and the
British government. He immediately warns, however, in terms that bring us right
back to the revolutionary face of the Renaissance, against simply reacting to
the barbarity of the British by supporting blindly the status quo of Indian
society. The village system that Marx understood to preexist the British
colonial intrusion was nothing to be championed: "Sickening as it must be to
human feeling to witness" the destruction and suffering caused by the British,
"we must not forget that these idyllic village communities, inoffensive though
they may appear, had always been the solid foundation of Oriental despotism,
that they restrained the human mind, within the smallest possible compass,
making it the unresisting tool of superstition, enslaving it beneath the
traditional rules depriving it of all grandeur and historical energies."[7]
Neither does the ruling structure of Indian princes deserve support, even in
reaction to the British: "It is not a strange thing that the same men who
denounce 'the barbarous splendors of the Crown and Aristocracy of England' are
shedding tears at the downfall of Indian Nabobs, Rujahs, and Jagidars, the great
majority of whom possess not even the prestige of antiquity, being generally
usurpers of very recent date, set up by English intrigue."[8] The colonial
situation falls too easily into a choice between two bad alternatives: either
submission to British capital and British rule or return to traditional Indian
social structures and submission to Indian princes; either foreign domination or
local domination. For Marx there must be another path that refuses both of these
alternatives, a path of insubordination and freedom. In this sense, in creating
the conditions of possibility for a new society, "whatever may have been the
crimes of England, she was the unconscious tool of history in bringing about
that revolution."[9] Capital can, in certain circumstances, be a force of
Enlightenment. Like Toussaint, then, Marx saw no use in overthrowing foreign
domination simply to restore some isolated and traditional form of oppression.
The alternative must look forward to a new form of freedom, connected to the
expansive networks of global exchange.
The only "alternative" path Marx can imagine, however, is that same path that
European society has already traveled. Marx has no conception of the difference
of Indian society, the different potentials it contains. He can thus see the
Indian past only as vacant and static: "Indian society has no history at all, at
least no known history. What we call its history is but the history of the
successive intruders who founded their empires on the passive basis of that
unresisting and unchanging society."[10] The claim that Indian society has no
history means not that nothing has happened in India but that the course of
events has been determined exclusively by external forces, while Indian society
has remained passive, "unresisting and unchanging." Certainly Marx was limited
by his scant knowledge of India's present and past.[11] His lack of inf
ormation, however, is not the point. The central issue is that Marx can conceive
of history outside of Europe only as moving strictly along the path already
traveled by Europe itself. "England has to fulfill a double mission in India,"
he wrote, "one destructive, the other regenerating-the annihilation of old
Asiatic Society, and the laying of the material foundations of Western society
in Asia."[12] India can progress only by being transformed into a Western
society. All the world can move forward only by following the footsteps of
Europe. Marx's Eurocentrism is in the end not so different from that of Las
Casas.
Although the utopian vein has continually surfaced in the historical process of
the interconnection and intercommunication of the world in the modern period, it
has nonetheless continually been suppressed militarily and ideologically by the
forces of European domination. The primary result has been massacres on a scale
never before imagined and the establishment of racial, political, and economic
structures of European rule over the non-European world. The rise of European
supremacy was driven in large part by the development and spread of capitalism,
which fed Europe's seemingly insatiable thirst for wealth. The global expansion
of capitalism, however, was neither a uniform nor a univocal process. In various
regions and among different populations capitalism developed unevenly: it
lurched forward, hesitated, and retreated according to a variety of diverse
paths. One such circuitous path is traced by the history of large-scale colonial
slave production in the Americas between the late seventeenth and mid-nineteenth
centuries, a history that is not precapitalist but rather within the complex and
contradictory developments of capital.
Large-scale plantation production with slave labor was initiated in the
Caribbean in the mid-seventeenth century by English and French planters who
imported African slaves to fill the void left by the native peoples killed by
European weapons and disease. By the end of the eighteenth century, the products
of slave labor in the Americas constituted one third of the value of European
commerce.[13] European capitalism stood in a very ambiguous relation to this
slave production in the Americas. One might reason logically, as many have, that
since capitalism is based ideologically and materially on free labor, or really
on the worker's ownership of his or her own labor power, capitalism must be
antithetical to slave labor. From this perspective, colonial slavery would be
seen as a preexisting form of production analogous to feudalism that capital
succeeds gradually in overcoming. The capitalist ideology of freedom would in
this case be an unalloyed force of Enlightenment.
In the very same period when European powers constructed the bases of the slave
economy across the Atlantic, there was also in Europe, principally in eastern
but also in southern Europe, a refeudalization of the agrarian economy and thus
a very strong tendency to block the mobility of labor and freeze the conditions
of the labor market. Europe was thrown back into a second period of servitude.
The point here is not simply to denounce the irrationality of the bourgeoisie,
but to understand how slavery and servitude can be perfectly compatible with
capitalist production, as mechanisms that limit the mobility of the labor force
and block its movements. Slavery, servitude, and all the other guises of the
coercive organization of labor-from coolieism in the pacific and peonage in
Latin America to apartheid in South Africa-are all essential elements internal
to the processes of capitalist development. In this period slavery and wage
labor engaged each other as dance partners in the coordinated steps of
capitalist development.[16]
The claim that regimes of slavery and servitude are internal to capitalist
production and development points toward the intimate relationship between the
laboring subjects' desire to flee the relationship of command and capital's
attempts to block the population within fixed territorial boundaries. Yann
Moulier Boutang emphasizes the primacy of these lines of flight in the history
of capitalist development:
The deterritorializing desire of the multitude is the motor that drives the
entire process of capitalist development, and capital must constantly attempt to
contain it.
The barriers that divide the colonial world are not simply erected on natural
boundaries, even though there are almost always physical markers that help
naturalize the division. Alterity is not given but produced. This premise is the
common point of departure for a wide range of research that has emerged in
recent decades, including notably Edward's Said's seminal book: "I have begun
with the assumption that the Orient is not an inert fact of nature . . . that
the Orient was created-or, as I call it, 'Orientalized.'" Orientalism is not
simply a scholarly project to gain more accurate knowledge of a real object, the
Orient, but rather a discourse that creates its own object in the unfolding of
the discourse itself. The two primary characteristics of this Orientalist
project are its homogenization of the Orient from Maghreb to India (Orientals
everywhere are all nearly the same) and its essentialization (the Orient and the
Oriental character are timeless and unchanging identities). The result, as Said
points out, is not the Orient as it is, an empirical object, but the Orient as
it has been Orientalized, an object of European discourse.[21] The Orient, then,
at least as we know it through Orientalism, is a creation of discourse, made in
Europe and exported back to the Orient. The representation is at once a form of
creation and a form of exclusion.
Important segments of the discipline of history were also deeply embedded in the
scholarly and popular production of alterity, and thus also in the legitimation
of colonial rule. For example, upon arriving in India and finding no
historiography they could use, British administrators had to write their own
"Indian history" to sustain and further the interests of colonial rule. The
British had to historicize the Indian past in order to have access to it and put
it to work. This British creation of an Indian history, however, like the
formation of the colonial state, could be achieved only by imposing European
colonial logics and models on Indian reality.[24] India's past was thus annexed
so as to become merely a portion of British history-or rather, British scholars
and administrators created an Indian history and exported it to India. This
historiography supported the Raj and in turn made the past inaccessible to
Indians as history. The reality of India and Indians was thus supplanted by a
powerful representation that posed them as an other to Europe, a primitive stage
in the teleology of civilization.
We should be careful to note that the colonial world never really conformed to
the simple two-part division of this dialectical structure. Any analysis of
eighteenth-century Haitian society before the revolution, for example, cannot
consider only whites and blacks but must also take into account at least the
position of mulattoes, who were at times united with whites on the basis of
their property and freedom, and at times united with blacks because of their
nonwhite skin. Even in simple racial terms this social reality demands at least
three axes of analysis-but that, too, fails to grasp the real social divisions.
One must also recognize the conflict among whites of different classes and the
interests of the black slaves as distinct from those of the free blacks and
maroons. In short, the real social situation in the colonies never breaks down
neatly into an absolute binary between pure opposing forces. Reality always
presents proliferating multiplicities. Our argument here, however, is not that
reality presents this facile binary structure but that colonialism, as an
abstract machine that produces identities and alterities, imposes binary
divisions on the colonial world. Colonialism homogenizes real social differences
by creating one overriding opposition that pushes differences to the absolute
and then subsumes the opposition under the identity of European civilization.
Reality is not dialectical, colonialism is.
The work of numerous authors, such as Jean-Paul Sartre and Franz Fanon, who have
recognized that colonial representations and colonial sovereignty are
dialectical in form has proven useful in several respects. First of all, the
dialectical construction demonstrates that there is nothing essential about the
identities in struggle. The White and the Black, the European and the Oriental,
the colonizer and the colonized are all representations that function only in
relation to each other and (despite appearances) have no real necessary basis in
nature, biology, or rationality. Colonialism is an abstract machine that
produces alterity and identity. And yet in the colonial situation these
differences and identities are made to function as if they were absolute,
essential, and natural. The first result of the dialectical reading is thus the
denaturalization of racial and cultural difference. This does not mean that once
recognized as artificial constructions, colonial identities evaporate into thin
air; they are real illusions and continue to function as if they were essential.
This recognition is not a politics in itself, but merely the sign that an
anticolonial politics is possible. In the second place, the dialectical
interpretation makes clear that colonialism and colonialist representations are
grounded in a violent struggle that must be continually renewed. The European
Selfneeds violence and needs to confront its Other to feel and maintain its
power, to remake itself continually. The generalized state of war that
continuously subtends colonial representations is not accidental or even
unwanted -violence is the necessary foundation of colonialism itself. Third,
posing colonialism as a negative dialectic of recognition makes clear the
potential for subversion inherent in the situation. For a thinker like Fanon,
the reference to Hegel suggests that the Master can only achieve a hollow form
of recognition; it is the Slave, through life-and-death struggle, who has the
potential to move forward toward full consciousness.[27] The dialectic ought to
imply movement, but this dialectic of European sovereign identity has fallen
back into stasis. The failed dialectic suggests the possibility of a proper
dialectic that through negativity will move history forward.
Nowhere in the world has nationalism qua nationalism challenged the legitimacy
of the marriage between Reason and capital. Nationalist thought . . . does not
possess the ideological means to make this challenge. The conflict between
metropolitain capital and the people-nation it resolves by absorbing the
political life of the nation into the body of the state. Conservatory of the
passive revolution, the national state now proceeds to find for "the nation" a
place in the global order of capital, while striving to keep the contradictions
between capital and the people in perpetual suspension. All politics is now
sought to be subsumed under the overwhelming requirements of the state-
representing-the-nation.[36]
The entire logical chain of representation might be summarized like this: the
people representing the multitude, the nation representing the people, and the
state representing the nation. Each link is an attempt to hold in suspension the
crisis of modernity. Representation in each case means a further step of
abstraction and control. From India to Algeria and Cuba to Vietnam, the state is
the poisoned gift of national liberation.
The final link that explains the necessary subordination of the postcolonial
nation-state, however, is the global order of capital. The global capitalist
hierarchy that subordinates the formally sovereign nation-states within its
order is fundamentally different from the colonialist and imperialist circuits
of international domination. The end of colonialism is also the end of the
modern world and modern regimes of rule. The end of modern colonialisms, of
course, has not really opened an age of unqualified freedom but rather yielded
to new forms of rule that operate on a global scale. Here we have our first real
glimpse of the passage to Empire.
CONTAGION
There are two sides to the connection between colonialism and disease. First of
all, simply the fact that the indigenous population is disease-ridden is itself
a justification for the colonial project: "These niggers are sick! You'll see!
They're completely corrupt [tout crev‚s et tout pourris]! . . . They're
degenerates!" (p. 142). Disease is a sign of physical and moral corruption, a
sign of a lack of civilization. Colonialism's civilizing project, then, is
justified by the hygiene it brings. On the other side of the coin, however, from
the European perspective, the primary danger of colonialism is disease-or really
contagion. In Africa, Louis-Ferdinand finds "every communicable disease."
Physical contamination, moral corruption, madness: the darkness of the colonial
territories and populations is contagious, and Europeans are always at risk.
(This is essentially the same truth that Kurtzrecogniz es in Conrad's Heart of
darkness.) Once there is established the differential between the pure,
civilized European and the corrupt, barbarous Other, there is possible not only
a civilizing process from disease to health, but also ineluctably the reverse
process, from health to disease. Contagion is the constant and present danger,
the dark underside of the civilizing mission.
Here then is the man outside our people, outside our humanity. He is continually
starving, nothing belongs to him but the instant, the prolonged instant of
torture . . . He always has only one thing: his suffering, but there is nothing
on the entire face of the earth that could serve as a remedy for him, there is
no ground on which to plant his two feet, no support for his two hands to grasp,
and thus there is so much less for him than there is for the music-hall trapeze
artist who is at least hanging by a thread.
Franz Kafka
The end of colonialism and the declining powers of the nation are indicative of
a general passage from the paradigm of modern sovereignty toward the paradigm of
imperial sovereignty. The various postmodernist and postcolonialist theories
that have emerged since the 1980s give us a first view of this passage, but the
perspective they offer proves to be quite limited. As the prefix "post-" should
indicate, postmodernist and postcolonialist theorists never tire of critiquing
and seeking liberation from the past forms of rule and their legacies in the
present. Postmodernists continually return to the lingering influence of the
Enlightenment as the source of domination; postcolonialist theorists combat the
remnants of colonialist thinking.
When we begin to consider the ideologies of corporate capital and the world
market, it certainly appears that the postmodernist and postcolonialist
theorists who advocate a politics of difference, fluidity, and hybridity in
order to challenge the binaries and essentialism of modern sovereignty have been
outflanked by the strategies of power. Power has evacuated the bastion they are
attacking and has circled around to their rear to join them in the assault in
the name of difference. These theorists thus find themselves pushing against an
open door. We do not mean to suggest that postmodernist and/or postcolonialist
theorists are somehow the lackeys of global capital and the world market.
Anthony Appiah and ArifDirlik are ungenerous when they cast these authors in the
position of "a comprador intelligentsia" and "the intelligentsia of global
capitalism."[1] There is no need to doubt the democratic, egalitarian, and even
at times anticapitalist desires that motivate large segments of these fields of
work, but it is important to investigate the utility of these theories in the
context of the new paradigm of power. This new enemy not only is resistant to
the old weapons but actually thrives on them, and thus joins its would-be
antagonists in applying them to the fullest. Long live difference! Down with
essentialist binaries! To a certain extent postmodernist and postcolonialist
theories are important effects that reflect or trace the expansion of the world
market and the passage of the form of sovereignty. These theories point toward
Empire, but in a vague and confused way, with no awareness of the paradigmatic
leap that this passage constitutes. We have to delve deep into this passage,
elaborate its terms, and make clear the lineaments that constitute the new
Empire. Recognizing the value and limitations of postmodernist and
postcolonialist theories is a first step in this project.
Politics of Difference
In order to appreciate fully the critical powers of postmodernist discourses,
one must first focus on the modern forms of sovereignty. As we saw in the
previous sections, the world of modern sovereignty is a Manichaean world,
divided by a series of binary oppositions that define Selfand Other, white and
black, inside and outside, ruler and ruled. Postmodernist thought challenges
precisely this binary logic of modernity and in this respect provides important
resources for those who are struggling to challenge modern discourses of
patriarchy, colonialism, and racism. In the context of postmodernist theories,
the hybridity and ambivalences of our cultures and our senses of belonging seem
to challenge the binary logic of Self and Other that stands behind modern
colonialist, sexist, and racist constructions. Similarly, the postmodernist
insistence on difference and specificity defies the totalitarianism of
universalizing discourses and structures of power; the affirmation of fragmented
social identities appears as a means of contesting the sovereignty of both the
modern subject and the modern nation-state, along with all the hierarchies they
imply. This postmodernist critical sensibility is extremely important in this
regard because it constitutes the proposition (or the symptom) of a break with
respect to the entire development of modern sovereignty.
We should take care, however, to look more closely at what exactly is intended
by "Enlightenment" or "modernity" from this postmodernist perspective.[3] We
argued earlier that modernity should be understood not as uniform and
homogeneous, but rather as constituted by at least two distinct and conflicting
traditions. The first tradition is that initiated by the revolution of
Renaissance humanism, from Duns Scotus to Spinoza, with the discovery of the
place of immanence and the celebration of singularity and difference. The second
tradition, the Thermidor of the Renaissance revolution, seeks to control the
utopian forces of the first through the construction and mediation of dualisms,
and arrives finally at the concept of modern sovereignty as a provisional
solution. When postmodernists propose their opposition to a modernity and an
Enlightenment that exalt the universality of reason only to sustain white male
European supremacy, it should be clear that they are really attacking the second
tradition of our schema (and unfortunately ignoring or eclipsing the first). It
would be more accurate, in other words, to pose postmodernist theory as a
challenge neither to the Enlightenment nor to modernity in toto but specifically
to the tradition of modern sovereignty. More precisely still, these various
theoretical contestations are brought together most coherently in a challenge to
the dialectic as the central logic of modern domination, exclusion, and command-
for both its relegating the multiplicity of difference to binary oppositions and
its subsequent subsumption of these differences in a unitary order. If modern
power itself is dialectical, the logic goes, then the postmodernist project must
be nondialectical.
Although many of the various postmodernist theorists are lucid in their refusal
of the logics of modern sovereignty, they are in general extremely confused
about the nature of our potential liberation from it-perhaps precisely because
they cannot recognize clearly the forms of power that have today come to
supplant it. When they present their theories as part of a project of political
liberation, in other words, postmodernists are still waging battle against the
shadows of old enemies: the Enlightenment, or really modern forms of sovereignty
and its binary reductions of difference and multiplicity to a single alternative
between Same and Other. The affirmation of hybridities and the free play of
differences across boundaries, however, is liberatory only in a context where
power poses hierarchy exclusively though essential identities, binary divisions,
and stable oppositions. The structures and logics of power in the contemporary
world are entirely immune to the "liberatory" weapons of the postmodernist
politics of difference. In fact, Empire too is bent on doing away with those
modern forms of sovereignty and on setting differences to play across
boundaries. Despite the best intentions, then, the postmodernist politics of
difference not only is ineffective against but can even coincide with and
support the functions and practices of imperial rule. The danger is that
postmodernist theories focus their attention so resolutely on the old forms of
power they are running from, with their heads turned backwards, that they tumble
unwittingly into the welcoming arms of the new power. From this perspective the
celebratory affirmations of postmodernists can easily appear naive, when not
purely mystificatory.
The utopia Bhabha points toward after the binary and totalizing structures of
power have been fractured and displaced is not an isolated and fragmentary
existence but a new form of community, a community of the "unhomely," a new
internationalism, a gathering of people in the diaspora. The affirmation of
difference and hybridity is itself, according to Bhabha, an affirmation of
community: "To live in the unhomely world, to find its ambivalences and
ambiguities enacted in the house of fiction, or its sundering and splitting
performed in the work of art, is also to affirm a profound desire for social
solidarity."[8] The seeds of the alternative community, he believes, arise out
of close attention to the locality of culture, its hybridity, and its resistance
to the binary structuring of social hierarchies. We should be careful to
recognize the form of the dominating power that serves as the enemy (and really
the negative foundation) in this postcolonialist framework. Power is assumed to
operate exclusively through a dialectical and binary structure. The only form of
domination Bhabha recognizes, in other words, is that of modern sovereignty.
This is why, for example, he can say "hierarchical or binary" as if the two
terms were interchangeable: from his perspective hierarchy as such is
necessarily grounded in binary divisions, so that the mere fact of hybridity has
the power to destroy hierarchy tout court. Hybridity itself is a realized
politics of difference, setting differences to play across boundaries. This is
where the postcolonial and the postmodern most powerfully meet: in the united
attack on the dialectics of modern sovereignty and the proposition of liberation
as a politics of difference.
Often today in the media the term "fundamentalism" reduces the variety of social
formations that go by that name and refers exclusively to Islamic
fundamentalism, the complexity of which is in turn reduced to a violent and
intolerant religious fanaticism that is above all "anti-Western." Islamic
fundamentalism itself, of course, takes various forms and has a long history
extending throughout the modern era. Islamic revivalism and reformism were
strong at different times in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, and the
current forms of Islamic radicalism bear distinct similarities to those previous
movements. Islamic fundamentalisms are most coherently united, however, in their
being resolutely opposed to modernity and modernization. Insof ar as political
and cultural modernization has been a process of secularization, Islamic
fundamentalisms oppose it by posing sacred texts at the center of political
constitutions and religious leaders, both priests and jurists, in positions of
political power. In terms, too, of gender roles, family structures, and cultural
forms, an unchanging, traditional religious norm is commonly meant to stand
against the progressively changing secular forms of modernity. Counter to
modernism's dynamic and secular society, fundamentalism seems to pose a static
and religious one. In this light, then, as an anti-modernism, Islamic
fundamentalisms seem to be engaged in an effort to reverse the process of social
modernization, separate from the global flows of modernity, and re-create a
premodern world. The Iranian revolution of 1979, for example, would from this
perspective be seen as an anti-revolution, resurrecting an ancient order.
The production processes of capital have also taken forms that echo
postmodernist projects. We will have ample opportunity to analyze (particularly
in Section 3.4) how production has come to be organized in flexible and hybrid
networks. This is, in our view, the most important respect in which the
contemporary transformations of capital and the world market constitute a real
process of postmodernization.
We certainly agree with those contemporary theorists, such as David Harvey and
Fredric Jameson, who see postmodernity as a new phase of capitalist accumulation
and commodification that accompanies the contemporary realization of the world
market.[26] The global politics of difference established by the world market is
defined not by free play and equality, but by the imposition of new hierarchies,
or really by a constant process of hierarchization. Postmodernist and
postcolonialist theories (and fundamentalisms in a very different way) are
really sentinels that signal this passage in course, and in this regard are
indispensable.
Truth Commissions
Certainly from the standpoint of many around the world, hybridity, mobility, and
difference do not immediately appear as liberatory in themselves. Huge
populations see mobility as an aspect of their suffering because they are
displaced at an increasing speed in dire circumstances. For several decades, as
part of the modernization process there have been massive migrations from rural
areas to metropolitan centers within each country and across the globe. The
international flow of labor has only increased in recent years, not only from
south to north, in the form of legal and illegal guest workers or immigrants,
but also from south to south, that is, the temporary or semipermanent worker
migrations among southern regions, such as that of south Asian workers in the
Persian Gulf. Even these massive worker migrations, however, are dwarfed in
terms of numbers and misery by those forced from their homes and land by famine
and war. Just a cursory glance around the world, from Central America to Central
Africa and from the Balkans to Southeast Asia, will reveal the desperate plight
of those on whom such mobility has been imposed. For them, mobility across
boundaries often amounts to forced migration in poverty and is hardly
liberatory. In fact, a stable and defined place in which to live, a certain
immobility, can on the contrary appear as the most urgent need.
The postmodernist epistemological challenge to "the Enlightenment"-its attack on
master narratives and its critique of truth- also loses its liberatory aura when
transposed outside the elite intellectual strata of Europe and North America.
Consider, for example, the mandate of the Truth Commission formed at the end of
the civil war in El Salvador, or the similar institutions that have been
established in the post-dictatorial and post-authoritarian regimes of Latin
America and South Africa. In the context of state terror and mystification,
clinging to the primacy of the concept oftruth can be a powerful and necessary
form of resistance. Establishing and making public the truth of the recent past-
attributing responsibility to state officials for specific acts and in some
cases exacting retribution-appears here as the ineluctable precondition for any
democratic future. The master narratives of the Enlightenment do not seem
particularly repressive here, and the concept oftruth is not fluid or unstable-
on the contrary! The truth is that this general ordered the torture and
assassination of that union leader, and this colonel led the massacre of that
village. Making public such truths is an exemplary Enlightenment project of
modernist politics, and the critique of it in these contexts could serve only to
aid the mystificatory and repressive powers of the regime under attack. In our
present imperial world, the liberatory potential of the postmodernist and
postcolonial discourses that we have described only resonates with the situation
of an elite population that enjoys certain rights, a certain level of wealth,
and a certain position in the global hierarchy. One should not take this
recognition, however, as a complete refutation. It is not really a matter of
either/or. Difference, hybridity, and mobility are not liberatory in themselves,
but neither are truth, purity, and stasis. The real revolutionary practice
refers to the level of production. Truth will not make us free, but taking
control of the production oftruth will. Mobility and hybridity are not
liberatory, but taking control of the production of mobility and stasis,
purities and mixtures is. The real truth commissions of Empire will be
constituent assemblies of the multitude, social factories for the production of
truth.
THE POOR
In each and every historical period a social subject that is ever-present and
everywhere the same is identified, often negatively but nonetheless urgently,
around a common living form. This form is not that of the powerful and the rich:
they are merely partial and localized figures, quantitate signatae. The only
non-localizable "common name" of pure difference in all eras is that of the
poor. The poor is destitute, excluded, repressed, exploited-and yet living! It
is the common denominator of life, the foundation of the multitude. It is
strange, but also illuminating, that postmodernist authors seldom adopt this
figure in their theorizing. It is strange because the poor is in a certain
respect an eternal postmodern figure: the figure of a transversal, omnipresent,
different, mobile subject; the testament to the irrepressible aleatory character
of existence.
This common name, the poor, is also the foundation of every possibility of
humanity. As Niccol• Machiavelli pointed out, in the "return to beginnings" that
characterizes the revolutionary phase of the religions and ideologies of
modernity, the poor is almost always seen to have a prophetic capacity: not only
is the poor in the world, but the poor itself is the very possibility of the
world. Only the poor lives radically the actual and present being, in
destitution and suffering, and thus only the poor has the ability to renew
being. The divinity of the multitude of the poor does not point to any
transcendence. On the contrary, here and only here in this world, in the
existence of the poor, is the field of immanence presented, confirmed,
consolidated, and opened. The poor is god on earth.
Today there is not even the illusion of a transcendent God. The poor has
dissolved that image and recuperated its power. Long ago modernity was
inaugurated with Rabelais's laugh, with the realistic supremacy of the belly of
the poor, with a poetics that expresses all that there is in destitute humanity
"from the belt on down." Later, through the processes of primitive accumulation,
the proletariat emerged as a collective subject that could express itself in
materiality and immanence, a multitude of poor that not only prophesied but
produced, and that thus opened possibilities that were not virtual but concrete.
Finally today, in the biopolitical regimes of production and in the processes of
postmodernization, the poor is a subjugated, exploited figure, but nonetheless a
figure of production. This is where the novelty lies. Everywhere today, at the
basis of the concept and the common name of the poor, there is a relationship of
production. Why are the postmodernists unable to read this passage? They tell us
that a regime of transversal linguistic relations of production has entered into
the unified and abstract universe of value. But who is the subject that produces
"transversally," who gives a creative meaning to language-who if not the poor,
who are subjugated and desiring, impoverished and powerful, always more
powerful? Here, within this reign of global production, the poor is
distinguished no longer only by its prophetic capacity but also by its
indispensable presence in the production of a common wealth, always more
exploited and always more closely indexed to the wages of rule. The poor itself
is power. There is World Poverty, but there is above all World Possibility, and
only the poor is capable of this.
Vogelfrei, "bird free," is the term Marx used to describe the proletariat, which
at the beginning of modernity in the processes of primitive accumulation was
freed twice over: in the first place, it was freed from being the property of
the master (that is, freed from servitude); and in the second place, it was
"freed" from the means of production, separated from the soil, with nothing to
sell but its own labor power. In this sense, the proletariat was forced to
become the pure possibility of wealth. The dominant stream of the Marxist
tradition, however, has always hated the poor, precisely for their being "free
as birds," for being immune to the discipline of the factory and the discipline
necessary for the construction of socialism. Consider how, when in the early
1950s Vittorio De Sica and Cesare Zavattini set the poor to fly away on
broomsticks at the end of their beautiful film Miracle in Milan, they were so
violently denounced for utopianism by the spokesmen of socialist realism.
The story goes that at the root of the postmodernist sensibility and the
construction of the concept of postmodernism are those French socialist
philosophers who in their youth celebrated factory discipline and the shining
horizons of real socialism, but who became repentant after the crisis of 1968
and gave up, proclaiming the futility of the pretense of communism to
reappropriate social wealth. Today these same philosophers cynically
deconstruct, banalize, and laugh at every social struggle that contests the
universal triumph of exchange value. The media and the culture of the media tell
us that those philosophers are the ones who recognized this new era of the
world, but that is not true. The discovery of postmodernity consisted in the
reproposition of the poor at the center of the political and productive terrain.
What was really prophetic was the poor, bird-free laugh of Charlie Chaplin when,
free from any utopian illusions and above all from any discipline of liberation,
he interpreted the "modern times" of poverty, but at the same time linked the
name of the poor to that of life, a liberated life and a liberated productivity.
Thomas Jefferson
Franklin D. Roosevelt
The American Revolution and the "new political science" proclaimed by the
authors of the Federalist broke from the tradition of modern sovereignty,
"returning to origins" and at the same time developing new languages and new
social forms that mediate between the one and the multiple. Against the tired
transcendentalism of modern sovereignty, presented either in Hobbesian or in
Rousseauian form, the American constituents thought that only the republic can
give order to democracy, or really that the order of the multitude must be born
not from a transfer of the title of power and right, but from an arrangement
internal to the multitude, from a democratic interaction of powers linked
together in networks. The new sovereignty can arise, in other words, only from
the constitutional formation of limits and equilibria, checks and balances,
which both constitutes a central power and maintains power in the hands of the
multitude. There is no longer any necessity or any room here for the
transcendence of power. "The science of politics," the authors of the Federalist
write, like most other sciences, has received great improvement. The efficacy of
various principles is now well understood, which were either not known at all,
or imperfectly known to the ancients. The regular distribution of power into
distinct departments; the introduction of legislative balances and checks; the
institution of courts composed of judges, holding their offices during good
behaviour; the representation of the people in the legislature, by deputies of
their own election; these are either wholly new discoveries, or have made their
principal progress towards perfection in modern times. They are means, and
powerful means, by which the excellencies of republican government may be
retained, and its imperfections lessened or avoided.[1]
This republican Rome was not the only Rome that fascinated Machiavelli and
guided the Atlantic republicans. Their new "science of politics" was also
inspired by imperial Rome, particularly as it was presented in the writings of
Polybius. In the first place, Polybius' model of imperial Rome grounded more
solidly the republican process of the mediation of social powers and brought it
to a conclusion in a synthesis of diverse forms of government. Polybius
conceived the perfect form of power as structured by a mixed constitution that
combines monarchic power, aristocratic power, and democratic power.[5] The new
political scientists in the United States organized these three powers as the
three branches of the republican constitution. Any disequilibrium among these
powers, and this is the second sign of Polybius' influence, is a symptom of
corruption. The Machiavellian Constitution of the United States is a structure
poised against corruption-the corruption of both factions and individuals, of
groups and the state. The Constitution was designed to resist any cyclical
decline into corruption by activating the entire multitude and organizing its
constituent capacity in networks of organized counterpowers, in flows of diverse
and equalized functions, and in a process of dynamic and expansive self-
regulation.
Extensive Empire
Before moving on to analyze how in the course of U.S. history this new principle
of sovereignty developed and was transformed, let us concentrate our attention
for a moment on the nature of the concept itself. The first characteristic of
the U.S. notion of sovereignty is that it poses an idea of the immanence of
power in opposition to the transcendent character of modern European
sovereignty. This idea of immanence is based on an idea of productivity. Ifit
were not, the principle would be impotent: in immanence alone, nothing allows
society to become political. The multitude that constitutes society is
productive. U.S. sovereignty does not consist, then, in the regulation of the
multitude but arises, rather, as the result of the productive synergies of the
multitude. The humanist revolution of the Renaissance and the subsequent
experiences of sectarian Protestantism all developed this idea of productivity.
In line with the Protestant ethic, one might say that only the productive power
of the multitude demonstrates the existence of God and the presence of divinity
on earth.[8] Power is not something that lords over us but something that we
make. The American Declaration of Independence celebrates this new idea of power
in the clearest terms. The emancipation of humanity from every transcendent
power is grounded on the multitude's power to construct its own political
institutions and constitute society. This principle of constituent production,
however, yields to or is explained by a procedure of self-reflection in a kind
of dialectical ballet. This is the second characteristic of the U.S. notion of
sovereignty. In the process of the constitution of sovereignty on the plane of
immanence, there also arises an experience of finitude that results from the
conflictive and plural nature of the multitude itself. The new principle of
sovereignty seems to produce its own internal limit. To prevent these obstacles
from disrupting order and completely emptying out the project, sovereign power
must rely on the exercise of control. In other words, after the first moment of
affirmation comes a dialectical negation of the constituent power of the
multitude that preserves the teleology of the project of sovereignty. Are we
thus faced with a point of crisis in the elaboration of the new concept? Does
transcendence, first refused in the definition of the source of power, return
through the back door in the exercise of power, when the multitude is posed as
finite and thus demanding special instruments of correction and control? That
outcome is a constant threat, but after having recognized these internal limits,
the new U.S. concept of sovereignty opens with extraordinary force toward the
outside, almost as if it wanted to banish the idea of control and the moment of
reflection from its own Constitution. The third characteristic of this notion of
sovereignty is its tendency toward an open, expansive project operating on an
unbounded terrain. Although the text of the U.S. Constitution is extremely
attentive to the self-reflective moment, the life and exercise of the
Constitution are instead, throughout their jurisprudential and political
history, decidedly open to expansive movements, to the renewed declaration of
the democratic foundation of power. The principle of expansion continually
struggles against the forces of limitation and control.[9]
This democratic expansive tendency implicit in the notion of network power must
be distinguished from other, purely expansionist and imperialist forms of
expansion. The fundamental difference is that the expansiveness of the immanent
concept of sovereignty is inclusive, not exclusive. In other words, when it
expands, this new sovereignty does not annex or destroy the other powers it
faces but on the contrary opens itself to them, including them in the network.
What opens is the basis of consensus, and thus, through the constitutive network
of powers and counterpowers, the entire sovereign body is continually reformed.
Precisely because of this expansive tendency, the new concept of sovereignty is
profoundly reformist.[11]
We can now distinguish clearly the expansive tendency of the democratic republic
from the expansionism of the transcendent sovereigns -or from, because this is
primarily what is at issue, the expansionism of modern nation-states. The idea
of sovereignty as an expansive power in networks is poised on the hinge that
links the principle of a democratic republic to the idea of Empire. Empire can
only be conceived as a universal republic, a network of powers and counterpowers
structured in a boundless and inclusive architecture. This imperial expansion
has nothing to do with imperialism, nor with those state organisms designed for
conquest, pillage, genocide, colonization, and slavery. Against such
imperialisms, Empire extends and consolidates the model of network power.
Certainly, when we consider these imperial processes historically (and we will
soon focus on them in U.S. history), we see clearly that the expansive moments
of Empire have been bathed in tears and blood, but this ignoble history does not
negate the difference between the two concepts.
Finally, we should note that an idea of peace is at the basis of the development
and expansion of Empire. This is an immanent idea of peace that is dramatically
opposed to the transcendent idea of peace, that is, the peace that only the
transcendent sovereign can impose on a society whose nature is defined by war.
Here, on the contrary, nature is peace. Virgil gives us perhaps the highest
expression of this Roman peace: "The final age that the oracle foretold has
arrived; / The great order of the centuries is born again."[12]
Open Frontiers
The realization of the imperial notion of sovereignty was a long process that
developed through the different phases of U.S. constitutional history. As a
written document, of course, the U.S. Constitution has remained more or less
unchanged (except for a few extremely important amendments), but the
Constitution should also be understood as a material regime of juridical
interpretation and practice that is exercised not only by jurists and judges but
also by subjects throughout the society. This material, social constitution has
indeed changed radically since the founding of the republic. U.S. constitutional
history, in fact, should be divided into four distinct phases or regimes.[13] A
first phase extends from the Declaration of Independence to the Civil War and
Reconstruction; a second, extremely contradictory, phase corresponds to the
Progressive era, straddling the turn of the century, from the imperialist
doctrine of theodore Roosevelt to Woodrow Wilson's international reformism; a
third phase moves from the New Deal and the Second World War through the height
of the cold war; and finally, a fourth phase is inaugurated with the social
movements of the 1960s and continues through the dissolution of the Soviet Union
and its Eastern European bloc. Each of these phases of U.S. constitutional
history marks a step toward the realization of imperial sovereignty. In the
first phase of the Constitution, between the presidencies of Thomas Jefferson
and Andrew Jackson, the open space of the frontier became the conceptual terrain
of republican democracy: this opening afforded the Constitution its first strong
definition. The declarations of freedom made sense in a space where the
constitution of the state was seen as an open process, a collective self-
making.[14] Most important, this American terrain was free of the forms of
centralization and hierarchy typical of Europe. Tocqueville and Marx, from
opposite perspectives, agree on this point: American civil society does not
develop within the heavy shackles of feudal and aristocratic power but starts
off from a separate and very different foundation.[15] An ancient dream seems
newly possible. An unbounded territory is open to the desire (cupiditas) of
humanity, and this humanity can thus avoid the crisis of the relationship
between virtue (virtus) and fortune (fortuna) that had ambushed and derailed the
humanist and democratic revolution in Europe. From the perspective of the new
United States, the obstacles to human development are posed by nature, not
history-and nature does not present insuperable antagonisms or fixed social
relationships. It is a terrain to transform and traverse.
This utopia of open spaces that plays such an important role in the first phase
of american constitutional history, however, already hides ingenuously a brutal
form of subordination. The North American terrain can be imagined as empty only
by willfully ignoring the existence of the Native Americans-or really conceiving
them as a different order of human being, as subhuman, part of the natural
environment. Just as the land must be cleared oftrees and rocks in order to farm
it, so too the terrain must be cleared of the native inhabitants. Just as the
frontier people must gird themselves against the severe winters, so too they
must arm themselves against the indigenous populations. Native Americans were
regarded as merely a particularly thorny element of nature, and a continuous war
was aimed at their expulsion and/or elimination. Here we are faced with a
contradiction that could not be absorbed within the constitutional machine: the
Native Americans could not be integrated in the expansive movement of the
frontier as part of the constitutional tendency; rather, they had to be excluded
from the terrain to open its spaces and make expansion possible. If they had
been recognized, there would have been no real frontier on the continent and no
open spaces to fill. They existed outside the Constitution as its negative
foundation: in other words, their exclusion and elimination were essential
conditions of the functioning of the Constitution itself. This contradiction may
not even properly be conceived as a crisis since Native Americans are so
dramatically excluded from and external to the workings of the constitutional
machine. In this first phase that runs from the founding of the democratic
republic to the Civil War, the constitutional dynamic did go into crisis as a
result of an internal contradiction. Whereas Native Americans were cast outside
the Constitution, African Americans were from the beginning posed within it. The
conception of frontier and the idea and practice of an open space of democracy
were in fact woven together with an equally open and dynamic concept of people,
multitude, and gens. The republican people is a new people, a people in exodus
populating the empty (or emptied) new territories. From the beginning, American
space was not only an extensive, unbounded space but also an intensive space: a
space of crossings, a "melting pot" of continuous hybridization. The first real
crisis of American liberty was determined on this internal, intensive space.
Black slavery, a practice inherited from the colonial powers, was an
insurmountable barrier to the formation of a free people. The great American
anticolonial constitution had to integrate this paradigmatic colonial
institution at its very heart. Native Americans could be excluded because the
new republic did not depend on their labor, but black labor was an essential
support of the new United States: African Americans had to be included in the
Constitution but could not be included equally. (Women, of course, occupied a
very similar position.) The Southern constitutionalists had no trouble
demonstrating that the Constitution, in its dialectical, selfreflective, and
"federalist" moment, permitted, and even demanded, this perverse interpretation
of the social division of labor that ran completely counter to the affirmation
of equality expressed in the Declaration of Independence.
This contradiction posed a crisis for the newly developed U.S. notion of
sovereignty because it blocked the free circulation, mixing, and equality that
animate its foundation.[18] Imperial sovereignty must always overcome barriers
and boundaries both within its domain and at the frontiers. This continuous
overcoming is what makes the imperial space open. The enormous internal barriers
between black and white, free and slave, blocked the imperial integration
machine and deflated the ideological pretense to open spaces. Abraham Lincoln
was certainly right when, conducting the Civil War, he thought of himselfas
refounding the nation. The passage of the Fourteenth Amendment inaugurated more
than a century of juridical struggles over civil rights and African American
equality. Furthermore, the debate over slavery was inextricably tied to the
debates over the new territories. What was in play was a redefinition of the
space of the nation. At stake was the question whether the free exodus of the
multitude, unified in a plural community, could continue to develop, perfect
itself, and realize a new configuration of public space. The new democracy had
to destroy the transcendental idea of the nation with all its racial divisions
and create its own people, defined not by old heritages but by a new ethics of
the construction and expansion of the community. The new nation could not but be
the product of the political and cultural management of hybrid identities.
This was the same period in which class struggle rose to center stage in the
United States. Class struggle posed the problem of scarcity, not in absolute
terms, but in terms proper to the history of capitalism: that is, as the
inequity of the division of the goods of development along the lines of the
social division of labor. Class division emerged as a limit that threatened to
destabilize the expansive equilibria of the constitution. At the same time,
capital's great trusts began to organize new forms of financial power, delinking
wealth from productivity and money from the relations of production. Whereas in
Europe this was experienced as a relatively continuous development-because
finance capital was built on the social position of land rent and the
aristocracy-in the United States it was an explosive event. It jeopardized the
very possibility of a constitution in network, because when a power becomes
monopolistic, the network itself is destroyed. Since the expansion of space was
no longer possible and thus could no longer be used as a strategy to resolve
conflicts, social conflict appeared directly as a violent and irreconcilable
event. The entrance on the scene of the great U.S. workers' movement confirmed
the closure of the constitutional space of mediation and the impossibility of
the spatial displacement of conflicts. The Haymarket Square riot and the Pullman
strike stated it loud and clear: there is no more open space, and thus conflict
will result in a direct clash, right here.[19] In effect, when power ran up
against its spatial limits, it was constrained to fold back on itself. This was
the new context in which all actions had to be played out.
The third phase or regime of the U.S. Constitution might be seen as taking
effect fully with the passage of the New Deal legislation such as the National
Industrial Relations Act, but for our purposes it is better to mark its
inception earlier, even as early as the Bolshevik Revolution of 1917 and the
period when its threat echoed across the United States and throughout the world.
In retrospect, in those first decades after the October Revolution we can
already recognize the roots of the cold war-the bipolar division of the
territories of the globe and the frantic competition between the two systems.
The New Deal legislation itself, along with the construction of comparable
welfare systems in Western Europe, might be cast as a response to the threat
conjured up by the Soviet experience, that is, to the increasing power of
workers' movements both at home and abroad.[23] The United States found itself
increasingly driven by the need to placate class antagonism, and thus
anticommunism became the overriding imperative. Cold war ideology gave rise to
the most exaggerated forms of Manichaean division, and as a result, some of the
central elements we have seen defining modern European sovereignty reappeared in
the United States.
It became increasingly evident during this phase, and throughout the course of
the twentieth century, that the United States, far from being that singular and
democratic nation its founders imagined it to be, an Empire of Liberty, was the
author of direct and brutal imperialist projects, both domestically and abroad.
The figure of the U.S. government as the world cop and mastermind of the
repression of liberation struggles throughout the world was not really born in
the 1960s, nor even with the inception of the cold war proper, but stretches
back to the Soviet revolution, and maybe even earlier. Perhaps what we have
presented as exceptions to the development of imperial sovereignty should
instead be linked together as a real tendency, an alternative within the history
of the U.S. Constitution. In other words, perhaps the root of these imperialist
practices should be traced back to the very origins of the country, to black
slavery and the genocidal wars against the Native Americans. Earlier we
considered black slavery as a constitutional problem in the antebellum period,
but racial subordination and the superexploitation of black labor continued well
after the passage of the Thirteenth, Fourteenth, and Fifteenth Amendments. The
ideological and physical barriers erected around African Americans have always
contradicted the imperial notion of open spaces and mixed populations. In
particular, the position of black labor in the United States strongly paralleled
the position of colonial labor in European regimes in terms of the division of
labor, working conditions, and wage structure. Indeed, the super-exploitation of
black labor gives us one example, an internal example, of the imperialist
tendency that has run throughout U.S. history.
During the cold war, when the United States ambiguously adopted the mantle of
imperialism, it subordinated the old imperialist powers to its own regime. The
cold war waged by the United States did not defeat the socialist enemy, and
perhaps that was never really its primary goal. The Soviet Union collapsed under
the burden of its own internal contradictions. The cold war at the most produced
some of the conditions of isolation that, reverberating within the Soviet bloc
itself, multiplied those explosive contradictions. The most important effect of
the cold war was to reorganize the lines of hegemony within the imperialist
world, accelerating the decline of the old powers and raising up the U.S.
initiative of the constitution of an imperial order. The United States would not
have been victorious at the end of the cold war had a new type of hegemonic
initiative not already been prepared. This imperial project, a global project of
network power, defines the fourth phase or regime of U.S. constitutional
history.
In the waning years and wake of the cold war, the responsibility of exercising
an international police power "fell" squarely on the shoulders of the United
States. The GulfWar was the first time the United States could exercise this
power in its full form. Really, the war was an operation of repression of very
little interest from the point of view of the objectives, the regional
interests, and the political ideologies involved. We have seen many such wars
conducted directly by the United States and its allies. Iraq was accused of
having broken international law, and it thus had to be judged and punished. The
importance of the Gulf War derives rather from the fact that it presented the
United States as the only power able to manage international justice, not as a
function of its own national motives but in the name of global right. Certainly,
many powers have falsely claimed to act in the universal interest before, but
this new role of the United States is different. Perhaps it is most accurate to
say that this claim to universality may also be false, but it is false in a new
way. The U.S. world police acts not in imperialist interest but in imperial
interest. In this sense the GulfWar did indeed, as George Bush claimed, announce
the birth of a new world order.
There are many reasons for the United States' privileged position in the new
global constitution of imperial authority. It can be explained in part by the
continuity of the United States' role (particularly its military role) from the
central figure in the struggle against the USSR to the central figure in the
newly unified world order. From the perspective of the constitutional history we
are tracing here, however, we can see that the United States is privileged in a
more important way by the imperial tendency of its own Constitution. The U.S.
Constitution, as Jefferson said, is the one best calibrated for extensive
Empire. We should emphasize once again that this Constitution is imperial and
not imperialist. It is imperial because (in contrast to imperialism's project
always to spread its power linearly in closed spaces and invade, destroy, and
subsume subject countries within its sovereignty) the U.S. constitutional
project is constructed on the model of rearticulating an open space and
reinventing incessantly diverse and singular relations in networks across an
unbounded terrain.
The contemporary idea of Empire is born through the global expansion of the
internal U.S. constitutional project. It is in fact through the extension of
internal constitutional processes that we enter into a constituent process of
Empire. International right always had to be a negotiated, contractual process
among external parties -in the ancient world that Thucydides portrayed in the
Melian Dialogue, in the era of state reason, and in the modern relations among
nations. Today right involves instead an internal and constitutive institutional
process. The networks of agreements and associations, the channels of mediation
and conflict resolution, and the coordination of the various dynamics of states
are all institutionalized within Empire. We are experiencing a first phase of
the transformation of the global frontier into an open space of imperial
sovereignty.
The new men of Empire are the ones who believe in fresh starts, new chapters,
new pages; I struggle on with the old story, hoping that before it is finished
it will reveal to me why it was that I thought it worth the trouble.
J. M. Coetzee
Foucault does add another line of inquiry that seeks to go beyond these
boundaries and the modern conception of the public sphere. "What is at stake . .
. is this: How can the growth of capabilities [capacit‚s] be disconnected from
the intensification of power relations?" And this new task requires a new
method: "We have to move beyond the outside-inside alternative." Foucault's
response, however, is quite traditional: "We have to be at the frontiers."[3] In
the end, Foucault's philosophical critique of the Enlightenment returns to the
same Enlightenment standpoint. In this ebb and flow between inside and outside,
the critique of modernity does not finally go beyond its terms and limits, but
rather stands poised on its boundaries.
This same notion of a border place that serves as the standpoint for the
critique of the system of power-a place that is both inside and outside-also
animates the critical tradition of modern political theory. Modern republicanism
has long been characterized by a combination of realistic foundations and
utopian initiatives. Republican projects are always solidly rooted within the
dominant historical process, but they seek to transform the realm of politics
that thus creates an outside, a new space of liberation. The three highest
examples of this critical tradition of modern political theory, in our opinion,
are Machiavelli, Spinoza, and Marx. Their thought is always grounded within the
real processes of the constitution of modern sovereignty, attempting to make its
contradictions explode and open the space for an alternative society. The
outside is constructed from within.
We do not want to suggest here that modern critiques of modernity have never
reached a real point of rupture that allows a shift of perspective, nor that our
project cannot profit from these modern critical foundations. Machiavellian
freedom, Spinozist desire, and Marxian living labor are all concepts that
contain real transformative power: the power to confront reality and go beyond
the given conditions of existence. The force of these critical concepts, which
extends well beyond their ambiguous relation to modern social structures,
consists primarily in their being posed as ontological demands.[4] The power of
the modern critique of modernity resides precisely where the blackmail of
bourgeois realism is refused -in other words, where utopian thought, going
beyond the pressures of homology that always limit it to what already exists, is
given a new constituent form.
The limitations of these critiques become clear when we question their power to
transform not only the objective we are aiming for, but also the standpoint of
critique. One briefexample should be sufficient to illustrate this difficulty.
The fifth part of Spinoza's Ethics is perhaps the highest development of the
modern critique of modernity. Spinoza takes on the theoretical challenge to
establish full knowledge oftruth and discover the path of the liberation of the
body and the mind, positively, in the absolute. All other modern metaphysical
positions, particularly those transcendental positions of which Descartes and
Hobbes are the first major representatives, are inessential and mystificatory
with respect to this project of liberation. Spinoza's primary objective is the
ontological development of the unity oftrue knowledge and the powerful body
along with the absolute construction of singular and collective immanence. Never
before had philosophical thought so radically undermined the traditional
dualisms of European metaphysics, and never before, consequently, had it so
powerfully challenged the political practices of transcendence and domination.
Every ontology that does not bear the stamp of human creativity is cast aside.
The desire (cupiditas) that rules the course of the existence and action of
nature and humans is made love (amor)-which invests at once both the natural and
the divine. And yet, in this final part of the Ethics, this utopia has only an
abstract and indefinite relation to reality. At times, setting out from this
high level of ontological development, Spinoza's thought does attempt to
confront reality, but the ascetic proposal halts, stumbles, and disappears in
the mystical attempt to reconcile the language of reality and divinity. Finally,
in Spinoza as in the other great modern critics of modernity, the search for an
outside seems to run aground and propose merely phantasms of mysticism, negative
intuitions of the absolute.
The domains conceived as inside and outside and the relationship between them
are configured differently in a variety of modern discourses.[5] The spatial
configuration of inside and outside itself, however, seems to us a general and
foundational characteristic of modern thought. In the passage from modern to
postmodern and from imperialism to Empire there is progressively less
distinction between inside and outside.
In the imperial world, this dialectic of sovereignty between the civil order and
the natural order has come to an end. This is one precise sense in which the
contemporary world is postmodern. "Postmodernism," Fredric Jameson tells us, "is
what you have when the modernization process is complete and nature is gone for
good."[6] Certainly we continue to have forests and crickets and thunderstorms
in our world, and we continue to understand our psyches as driven by natural
instincts and passions; but we have no nature in the sense that these forces and
phenomena are no longer understood as outside, that is, they are not seen as
original and independent of the artifice of the civil order. In a postmodern
world all phenomena and forces are artificial, or, as some might say, part of
history. The modern dialectic of inside and outside has been replaced by a play
of degrees and intensities, of hybridity and artificiality. The outside has also
declined in terms of a rather different modern dialectic that defined the
relation between public and private in liberal political theory. The public
spaces of modern society, which constitute the place of liberal politics, tend
to disappear in the postmodern world. According to the liberal tradition, the
modern individual, at home in its private spaces, regards the public as its
outside. The outside is the place proper to politics, where the action of the
individual is exposed in the presence of others and there seeks recognition.[7]
In the process of postmodernization, however, such public spaces are
increasingly becoming privatized. The urban landscape is shifting from the
modern focus on the common square and the public encounter to the closed spaces
of malls, freeways, and gated communities. The architecture and urban planning
of megalopolises such as Los Angeles and Sa~o Paolo have tended to limit public
access and interaction in such a way as to avoid the chance encounter of diverse
populations, creating a series of protected interior and isolated spaces.[8]
Alternatively, consider how the banlieu of Paris has become a series of
amorphous and indefinite spaces that promote isolation rather than any
interaction or communication. Public space has been privatized to such an extent
that it no longer makes sense to understand social organization in terms of a
dialectic between private and public spaces, between inside and outside. The
place of modern liberal politics has disappeared, and thus from this perspective
our postmodern and imperial society is characterized by a deficit of the
political. In effect, the place of politics has been de-actualized.
In this regard, Guy Debord's analysis of the society of the spectacle, more than
thirty years after its composition, seems ever more apt and urgent.[9] In
imperial society the spectacle is a virtual place, or more accurately, a non-
place of politics. The spectacle is at once unified and diffuse in such a way
that it is impossible to distinguish any inside from outside-the natural from
the social, the private from the public. The liberal notion of the public, the
place outside where we act in the presence of others, has been both
universalized (because we are always now under the gaze of others, monitored by
safety cameras) and sublimated or de-actualized in the virtual spaces of the
spectacle. The end of the outside is the end of liberal politics.
Finally, there is no longer an outside also in a military sense. When Francis
Fukuyama claims that the contemporary historical passage is defined by the end
of history, he means that the era of major conflicts has come to an end:
sovereign power will no longer confront its Other and no longer face its
outside, but rather will progressively expand its boundaries to envelop the
entire globe as its proper domain.[10] The history of imperialist,
interimperialist, and anti-imperialist wars is over. The end of that history has
ushered in the reign of peace. Or really, we have entered the era of minor and
internal conflicts. Every imperial war is a civil war, a police action-from Los
Angeles and Granada to Mogadishu and Sarajevo. In fact, the separation of tasks
between the external and the internal arms of power (between the army and the
police, the CIA and the FBI) is increasingly vague and indeterminate.
In our terms, the end of history that Fukuyama refers to is the end of the
crisis at the center of modernity, the coherent and defining conflict that was
the foundation and raison d'ˆtre for modern sovereignty. History has ended
precisely and only to the extent that it is conceived in Hegelian terms-as the
movement of a dialectic of contradictions, a play of absolute negations and
subsumption. The binaries that defined modern conflict have become blurred. The
Other that might delimit a modern sovereign Selfhas become fractured and
indistinct, and there is no longer an outside that can bound the place of
sovereignty. The outside is what gave the crisis its coherence. Today it is
increasingly difficult for the ideologues of the United States to name a single,
unified enemy; rather, there seem to be minor and elusive enemies
everywhere.[11] The end of the crisis of modernity has given rise to a
proliferation of minor and indefinite crises, or, as we prefer, to an omni-
crisis.
It is useful to remember here (and we will develop this point further in Section
3.1) that the capitalist market is one machine that has always run counter to
any division between inside and outside. It is thwarted by barriers and
exclusions; it thrives instead by including always more within its sphere.
profit can be generated only through contact, engagement, interchange, and
commerce. The realization of the world market would constitute the point of
arrival of this tendency. In its ideal form there is no outside to the world
market: the entire globe is its domain.[12] We might thus use the form of the
world market as a model for understanding imperial sovereignty. Perhaps, just as
Foucault recognized the panopticon as the diagram of modern power, the world
market might serve adequately-even though it is not an architecture but really
an anti-architecture-as the diagram of imperial power.[13] The striated space of
modernity constructed places that were continually engaged in and founded on a
dialectical play with their outsides. The space of imperial sovereignty, in
contrast, is smooth. It might appear to be free of the binary divisions or
striation of modern boundaries, but really it is crisscrossed by so many fault
lines that it only appears as a continuous, uniform space. In this sense, the
clearly defined crisis of modernity gives way to an omnicrisis in the imperial
world. In this smooth space of Empire, there is no place of power-it is both
everywhere and nowhere. Empire is an ou-topia, or really a non-place.
Imperial Racism
The passage from modern sovereignty to imperial sovereignty shows one of its
faces in the shifting configurations of racism in our societies. We should note
first of all that it has become increasingly difficult to identify the general
lines of racism. In fact, politicians, the media, and even historians
continually tell us that racism has steadily receded in modern societies-from
the end of slavery to decolonization struggles and civil rights movements.
Certain specific traditional practices of racism have undoubtedly declined, and
one might be tempted to view the end of the apartheid laws in South Africa as
the symbolic close of an entire era of racial segregation. From our perspective,
however, it is clear that racism has not receded but actually progressed in the
contemporary world, both in extent and in intensity. It appears to have declined
only because its form and strategies have changed. If we take Manichaean
divisions and rigid exclusionary practices (in South Africa, in the colonial
city, in the southeastern United States, or in Palestine) as the paradigm of
modern racisms, we must now ask what is the postmodern form of racism and what
are its strategies in today's imperial society. Many analysts describe this
passage as a shift in the dominant theoretical form of racism, from a racist
theory based on biology to one based on culture. The dominant modern racist
theory and the concomitant practices of segregation are centered on essential
biological differences among races. Blood and genes stand behind the differences
in skin color as the real substance of racial difference. Subordinated peoples
are thus conceived (at least implicitly) as other than human, as a different
order of being. These modern racist theories grounded in biology imply or tend
toward an ontological difference-a necessary, eternal, and immutable rift in the
order of being. In response to this theoretical position, then, modern
antiracism positions itself against the notion of biological essentialism, and
insists that differences among the races are constituted instead by social and
cultural forces. These modern anti-racist theorists operate on the belief that
social constructivism will free us from the straitjacket of biological
determinism: ifour differences are socially and culturally determined, then all
humans are in principle equal, of one ontological order, one nature.
With the passage to Empire, however, biological differences have been replaced
by sociological and cultural signifiers as the key representation of racial
hatred and fear. In this way imperial racist theory attacks modern anti-racism
from the rear, and actually coopts and enlists its arguments. Imperial racist
theory agrees that races do not constitute isolable biological units and that
nature cannot be divided into different human races. It also agrees that the
behavior of individuals and their abilities or aptitudes are not the result of
their blood or their genes, but are due to their belonging to different
historically determined cultures.[14] Differences are thus not fixed and
immutable but contingent effects of social history. Imperial racist theory and
modern anti-racist theory are really saying very much the same thing, and it is
difficult in this regard to tell them apart. In fact, it is precisely because
this relativist and culturalist argument is assumed to be necessarily anti-
racist that the dominant ideology of our entire society can appear to be against
racism, and that imperial racist theory can appear not to be racist at all.
We should look more closely, however, at how imperial racist theory operates.
tienne Balibar calls the new racism a differentialist racism, a racism without
race, or more precisely a racism that does not rest on a biological concept of
race. Although biology is abandoned as the foundation and support, he says,
culture is made to fill the role that biology had played.[15] We are accustomed
to thinking that nature and biology are fixed and immutable but that culture is
plastic and fluid: cultures can change historically and mix to form infinite
hybrids. From the perspective of imperial racist theory, however, there are
rigid limits to the flexibility and compatibility of cultures. Differences
between cultures and traditions are, in the final analysis, insurmountable. It
is futile and even dangerous, according to imperial theory, to allow cultures to
mix or insist that they do so: Serbs and Croats, Hutus and Tutsis, African
Americans and Korean Americans must be kept separate.
As a theory of social difference, the cultural position is no less
"essentialist" than the biological one, or at least it establishes an equally
strong theoretical ground for social separation and segregation. Nonetheless, it
is a pluralist theoretical position: all cultural identities are equal in
principle. This pluralism accepts all the differences of who we are so long as
we agree to act on the basis of these differences of identity, so long as we act
our race. Racial differences are thus contingent in principle, but quite
necessary in practice as markers of social separation. The theoretical
substitution of culture for race or biology is thus transformed paradoxically
into a theory of the preservation of race.[16] This shift in racist theory shows
us how imperial theory can adopt what is traditionally thought to be an anti-
racist position and still maintain a strong principle of social separation.
We should be careful to note at this point that imperial racist theory in itself
is a theory of segregation, not a theory of hierarchy. Whereas modern racist
theory poses a hierarchy among the races as the fundamental condition that makes
segregation necessary, imperial theory has nothing to say about the superiority
or inferiority of different races or ethnic groups in principle. It regards that
as purely contingent, a practical matter. In other words, racial hierarchy is
viewed not as cause but as effect of social circumstances. For example, African
American students in a certain region register consistently lower scores on
aptitude tests than Asian American students. Imperial theory understands this as
attributable not to any racial inferiority but rather to cultural differences:
Asian American culture places a higher importance on education, encourages
students to study in groups, and so forth. The hierarchy of the different races
is determined only a posteriori, as an effect of their cultures- that is, on the
basis of their performance. According to imperial theory, then, racial supremacy
and subordination are not a theoretical question, but arise through free
competition, a kind of market meritocracy of culture.
This is not to say that our societies are devoid of racial exclusions; certainly
they are crisscrossed with numerous lines of racial barriers, across each urban
landscape and across the globe. The point, rather, is that racial exclusion
arises generally as a result of differential inclusion. In other words, it would
be a mistake today, and perhaps it is also misleading when we consider the past,
to pose the apartheid or Jim Crow laws as the paradigm of racial hierarchy.
Difference is not written in law, and the imposition of alterity does not go to
the extreme of otherness. Empire does not think differences in absolute terms;
it poses racial differences never as a difference of nature but always as a
difference of degree, never as necessary but always as accidental. Subordination
is enacted in regimes of everyday practices that are more mobile and flexible
but that create racial hierarchies that are nonetheless stable and brutal. The
form and strategies of imperial racism help to highlight the contrast between
modern and imperial sovereignty more generally. Colonial racism, the racism of
modern sovereignty, first pushes difference to the extreme and then recuperates
the Other as negative foundation of the Self (see Section 2.3). The modern
construction of a people is intimately involved in this operation. A people is
defined not simply in terms of a shared past and common desires or potential,
but primarily in dialectical relation to its Other, its outside. A people
(whether diasporic or not) is always defined in terms of a place (be it virtual
or actual). Imperial order, in contrast, has nothing to do with this dialectic.
Imperial racism, or differential racism, integrates others with its order and
then orchestrates those differences in a system of control. Fixed and biological
notions of peoples thus tend to dissolve into a fluid and amorphous multitude,
which is of course shot through with lines of conflict and antagonism, but none
that appear as fixed and eternal boundaries. The surface of imperial society
continuously shifts in such a way that it destabilizes any notion of place. The
central moment of modern racism takes place on its boundary, in the global
antithesis between inside and outside. As Du Bois said nearly one hundred years
ago, the problem of the twentieth century is the problem of the color line.
Imperial racism, by contrast, looking forward perhaps to the twenty-first
century, rests on the play of differences and the management of micro-
conflictualities within its continually expanding domain.
The progressive lack of distinction between inside and outside has important
implications for the social production of subjectivity. One of the central and
most common theses of the institutional analyses proposed by modern social
theory is that subjectivity is not pre-given and original but at least to some
degree formed in the field of social forces. In this sense, modern social theory
progressively emptied out any notion of a presocial subjectivity and instead
grounded the production of subjectivity in the functioning of major social
institutions, such as the prison, the family, the factory, and the school.
In the passage to imperial society, the first aspect of the modern condition is
certainly still the case, that is, subjectivities are still produced in the
social factory. In fact, the social institutions produce subjectivity in an ever
more intense way. We might say that postmodernism is what you have when the
modern theory of social constructivism is taken to its extreme and all
subjectivity is recognized as artificial. How is this possible, however, when
today, as nearly everyone says, the institutions in question are everywhere in
crisis and continually breaking down? This general crisis does not necessarily
mean that the institutions no longer produce subjectivity. What has changed,
rather, is the second condition: that is, the place of the production of
subjectivity is no longer defined in this same way. The crisis means, in other
words, that today the enclosures that used to define the limited space of the
institutions have broken down so that the logic that once functioned primarily
within the institutional walls now spreads across the entire social terrain.
Inside and outside are becoming indistinguishable.
This passage is not isolated to the dominant countries and regions, but tends to
be generalized to different degrees across the world. The apologia of colonial
administration always celebrated its establishment of social and political
institutions in the colonies, institutions that would constitute the backbone of
a new civil society. Whereas in the process of modernization the most powerful
countries export institutional forms to the subordinated ones, in the present
process of postmodernization, what is exported is the general crisis of the
institutions. The Empire's institutional structure is like a software program
that carries a virus along with it, so that it is continually modulating and
corrupting the institutional forms around it. The imperial society of control is
tendentially everywhere the order of the day.
The second moment of imperial control, its differential moment, involves the
affirmation of differences accepted within the imperial realm. While from the
juridical perspective differences must be set aside, from the cultural
perspective differences are celebrated. Since these differences are considered
now to be cultural and contingent rather than biological and essential, they are
thought not to impinge on the central band of commonality or overlapping
consensus that characterizes the Empire's inclusionary mechanism. They are
nonconflictual differences, the kind of differences we might set aside when
necessary. For example, since the end of the cold war, ethnic identities have
been actively (re)created in the socialist and formerly socialist countries with
the firm support of the United States, the U.N., and other global bodies. Local
languages, traditional place-names, arts, handcrafts, and so forth are
celebrated as important components of the transition from socialism to
capitalism.[21] These differences are imagined to be "cultural" rather than
"political," under the assumption that they will not lead to uncontrollable
conflicts but will function, rather, as a force of peaceful regional
identification. In a similar fashion, many official promotions of
multiculturalism in the United States involve the celebration of traditional
ethnic and cultural differences under the umbrella of universal inclusion. In
general, Empire does not create differences. It takes what it is given and works
with it.
In a certain sense, then, the colonial might be considered more ideological and
the imperial more pragmatic. Consider as an example of imperial strategy the
practice of New England factories and Appalachian coal mines at the beginning of
the twentieth century. The factories and mines were dependent on the labor of
recent immigrants from various European countries, many of whom carried with
them traditions of intense worker militancy. Bosses, however, did not shy away
from bringing together this potentially explosive mixture of workers. They
found, in fact, that carefully managed proportions of workers from different
national backgrounds in each workshop and each mine proved to be a powerful
formula of command. The linguistic, cultural, and ethnic differences within each
work force were stabilizing because they could be used as a weapon to combat
worker organization. It was in the bosses' interest that the melting pot not
dissolve identities and that each ethnic group continue to live in a separate
community maintaining its differences. A very similar strategy can be seen in
the more recent practices of labor management on a Central American banana
plantation.[23] Multiple ethnic divisions among the workers function as an
element of control in the labor process. The transnational corporation addresses
with different methods and degrees of exploitation and repression each of the
ethnic groups of workers-variously of European and African descent and from
different Amerindian groups. Antagonisms and divisions among the workers along
the various lines of ethnicity and identification prove to enhance profit and
facilitate control. Complete cultural assimilation (in contrast to juridical
integration) is certainly not a priority of imperial strategy. The reemergence
of ethnic and national differences at the end of the twentieth century, not only
in Europe but also in Africa, Asia, and the Americas, has presented Empire with
an even more complex equation containing a myriad of variables that are in a
constant state of flux. That this equation does not have a unique solution is
not really a problem-on the contrary. Contingency, mobility, and flexibility are
Empire's real power. The imperial "solution" will not be to negate or attenuate
these differences, but rather to affirm them and arrange them in an effective
apparatus of command.
"Divide and conquer" is thus not really the correct formulation of imperial
strategy. More often than not, the Empire does not create division but rather
recognizes existing or potential differences, celebrates them, and manages them
within a general economy of command. The triple imperative of the Empire is
incorporate, differentiate, manage.
REFUSAL
Bartleby would prefer not to. The mystery of Herman Melville's classic story is
the absoluteness of the refusal. When his boss asks him to perform his duties,
Bartleby calmly repeats over and over, "I would prefer not to." Melville's
character fits in with a long tradition of the refusal of work. Any worker with
any sense, of course, wants to refuse the authority of the boss, but Bartleby
takes it to the extreme. He does not object to this or that task, nor does he
offer any reason for his refusal-he just passively and absolutely declines.
Bartleby's behavior is indeed disarming, in part because he is so calm and
serene, but moreover because his refusal is so indefinite that it becomes
absolute. He simply prefers not to.
Michael K, the central character in J. M. Coetzee's wonderful novel The Life and
Times of Michael K, is also a figure of absolute refusal. But whereas Bartleby
is immobile, almost petrified in his pure passivity, K is always on his feet,
always moving. Michael K is a gardener, a simple man, so simple that he appears
to be not of this world. In a fictional country divided by civil war, he is
continually stopped by the cages, barriers, and checkpoints erected by
authority, but he manages quietly to refuse them, to keep moving. Michael K does
not keep moving just for the sake of perpetual motion. The barriers do not just
block motion, they seem to stop life, and thus he refuses them absolutely in
order to keep life in motion. What he really wants is to grow pumpkins and tend
to their wandering vines. K's refusal of authority is as absolute as Bartleby's,
and that very absoluteness and simplicity situate him, too, on a level of
ontological purity. K also approaches the level of naked universality: "a human
soul above and beneath classification,"[2] being simply homo tantum.
These simple men and their absolute refusals cannot but appeal to our hatred of
authority. The refusal of work and authority, or really the refusal of voluntary
servitude, is the beginning of liberatory politics. Long ago tienne de La
Bo‚tie preached just such a politics of refusal: "Resolve to serve no more, and
you are at once freed. I do not ask that you place hands upon the tyrant to
topple him over, but simply that you support him no longer; then you will behold
him, like a great Colossus whose pedestal has been pulled away, fall of his own
weight and break into pieces."[3] La Bo‚tie recognized the political power of
refusal, the power of subtracting ourselves from the relationship of domination,
and through our exodus subverting the sovereign power that lords over us.
Bartleby and Michael K continue La Bo‚tie's politics of the refusal of voluntary
servitude, carrying it to the absolute.
INTERMEZZO - COUNTER-EMPIRE
While this Heavenly City is on pilgrimage on earth, it calls out all peoples and
so collects a society of aliens, speaking all languages.
Saint Augustine
We want to destroy all the ridiculous monuments "to those who have died for the
fatherland" that stare down at us in every village, and in their place erect
monuments to the deserters. The monuments to the deserters will represent also
those who died in the war because every one of them died cursing the war and
envying the happiness of the deserter. Resistance is born of desertion.
We have now arrived at a turning point in our argument. The trajectory we have
traced up until now-from our recognition of modernity as crisis to our analyses
of the first articulations of a new imperial form of sovereignty-has allowed us
to understand the transformations of the constitution of world order. But that
order would be merely a hollow husk ifwe were not to designate also a new regime
of production. Furthermore, we have not yet been able to give any coherent
indication of what type of political subjectivities might contest and overthrow
the forces of Empire, because those subjectivities will arrive only on the
terrain of production. It is as if at this point we can see only shadows of the
figures that will animate our future. Let us therefore descend into the hidden
abode of production to see the figures at work there.
Our study set out from the hypothesis that the power of Empire and the
mechanisms of imperial sovereignty can be understood only when confronted on the
most general scale, in their globality. We believe that toward the end of
challenging and resisting Empire and its world market, it is necessary to pose
any alternative at an equally global level. Any proposition of a particular
community in isolation, defined in racial, religious, or regional terms,
"delinked" from Empire, shielded from its powers by fixed boundaries, is
destined to end up as a kind of ghetto. Empire cannot be resisted by a project
aimed at a limited, local autonomy. We cannot move back to any previous social
form, nor move forward in isolation. Rather, we must push through Empire to come
out the other side. Deleuze and Guattari argued that rather than resist
capital's globalization, we have to accelerate the process. "But which," they
ask, "is the revolutionary path? Is there one?-To withdraw from the world market
. . ? Or might it be to go in the opposite direction? To go still further, that
is, in the movement of the market, of decoding and deterritorialization?"[1]
Empire can be effectively contested only on its own level of generality and by
pushing the processes that it offers past their present limitations. We have to
accept that challenge and learn to think globally and act globally.
Globalization must be met with a counter-globalization, Empire with a counter-
Empire.
Taking our cue from the IWW, and clearly departing from Augustine in this
regard, we would cast our political vision in line with the radical republican
tradition of modern democracy. What does it mean to be republican today? What
sense can it have in the postmodern era to take up that antagonistic position
that constituted a radically democratic alternative within modernity? Where is
the standpoint from which critique can be possible and effective? In this
passage from modernity to postmodernity, is there still a place from which we
can launch our critique and construct an alternative? Or, ifwe are consigned to
the non-place of Empire, can we construct a powerful non-place and realize it
concretely, as the terrain of a postmodern republicanism?
In the contemporary world this spatial configuration has changed. On the one
hand, the relations of capitalist exploitation are expanding everywhere, not
limited to the factory but tending to occupy the entire social terrain. Onthe
other hand, social relations completely invest the relations of production,
making impossible any externality between social production and economic
production. The dialectic between productive forces and the system of domination
no longer has a determinate place. The very qualities of labor power
(difference, measure, and determination) can no longer be grasped, and
similarly, exploitation can no longer be localized and quantified. In effect,
the object of exploitation and domination tend not to be specific productive
activities but the universal capacity to produce, that is, abstract social
activity and its comprehensive power. This abstract labor is an activity without
place, and yet it is very powerful. It is the cooperating set of brains and
hands, minds and bodies; it is both the non-belonging and the creative social
diffusion of living labor; it is the desire and the striving of the multitude of
mobile and flexible workers; and at the same time it is intellectual energy and
linguistic and communicative construction of the multitude of intellectual and
affective laborers.[4]
The inside defined by use value and the outside of exchange value are nowhere to
be found, and hence any politics of use value, which was always based on an
illusion of separability, is now definitely inconceivable. That does not mean,
however, that production and exploitation have ceased. Neither have innovation
and development nor the continuous restructuring of relations of power come to
an end. On the contrary, today more than ever, as productive forces tend to be
completely de-localized, completely universal, they produce not only commodities
but also rich and powerful social relationships. These new productive forces
have no place, however, because they occupy all places, and they produce and are
exploited in this indefinite non-place. The universality of human creativity,
the synthesis of freedom, desire, and living labor, is what takes place in the
non-place of the postmodern relations of production. Empire is the non-place of
world production where labor is exploited. By contrast, and with no possible
homology with Empire, here we find again the revolutionary formalism of modern
republicanism. This is still a formalism because it is without place, but it is
a potent formalism now that it is recognized not as abstracted from the
individual and collective subjects but as the general power that constitutes
their bodies and minds. The non-place has a brain, heart, torso, and limbs,
globally.
This recognition takes us back to the initial question: What does it mean to be
republican today? We have already seen that the modern critical response of
opening the dialectic between inside and outside is no longer possible. An
effective notion of postmodern republicanism will have to be constructed au
milieu, on the basis of the lived experience of the global multitude. One
element we can put our finger on at the most basic and elemental level is the
will to be against. In general, the will to be against does not seem to require
much explanation. Disobedience to authority is one of the most natural and
healthy acts. To us it seems completely obvious that those who are exploited
will resist and-given the necessary conditions-rebel. Today, however, this may
not be so obvious. A long tradition of political scientists has said the problem
is not why people rebel but why they do not. Or rather, as Deleuze and Guattari
say, "the fundamental problem of political philosophy is still precisely the one
that Spinoza saw so clearly (and that Wilhelm Reich rediscovered): 'Why do men
fight for their servitude as stubbornly as though it were their salvation?'"[5]
The first question of political philosophy today is not ifor even why there will
be resistance and rebellion, but rather how to determine the enemy against which
to rebel. Indeed, often the inability to identify the enemy is what leads the
will to resistance around in such paradoxical circles. The identification of the
enemy, however, is no small task given that exploitation tends no longer to have
a specific place and that we are immersed in a system of power so deep and
complex that we can no longer determine specific difference or measure. We
suffer exploitation, alienation, and command as enemies, but we do not know
where to locate the production of oppression. And yet we still resist and
struggle.
One should not exaggerate these logical paradoxes. Even though on the new
terrain of Empire exploitation and domination often cannot be defined in
specific places, they nonetheless exist. The globality of the command they
impose represents the inverted image-something like a photo negative-of the
generality of the multitude's productive activities. And yet, this inverted
relation between imperial power and the power of the multitude does not indicate
any homology. In effect, imperial power can no longer discipline the powers of
the multitude; it can only impose control over their general social and
productive capacities. From the economic point of view, the wage regime is
replaced, as a function of regulation, by a flexible and global monetary system;
normative command is replaced by the procedures of control and the police; and
the exercise of domination is formed through communicative networks. This is how
exploitation and domination constitute a general non-place on the imperial
terrain. Although exploitation and domination are still experienced concretely,
on the flesh of the multitude, they are nonetheless amorphous in such a way that
it seems there is no place left to hide. If there is no longer a place that can
be recognized as outside, we must be against in every place. This being-against
becomes the essential key to every active political position in the world, every
desire that is effective-perhaps of democracy itself. The first anti-fascist
partisans in Europe, armed deserters confronting their traitorous governments,
were aptly called "against-men."[6] Today the generalized being-against of the
multitude must recognize imperial sovereignty as the enemy and discover the
adequate means to subvert its power.
Here we see once again the republican principle in the very first instance:
desertion, exodus, and nomadism. Whereas in the disciplinary era sabotage was
the fundamental notion of resistance, in the era of imperial control it may be
desertion. Whereas beingagainst in modernity often meant a direct and/or
dialectical opposition of forces, in postmodernity being-against might well be
most effective in an oblique or diagonal stance. Battles against the Empire
might be won through subtraction and defection. This desertion does not have a
place; it is the evacuation of the places of power. Throughout the history of
modernity, the mobility and migration of the labor force have disrupted the
disciplinary conditions to which workers are constrained. And power has wielded
the most extreme violence against this mobility. In this respect slavery can be
considered on a continuum with the various wage labor regimes as the most
extreme repressive apparatus to block the mobility of the labor force. The
history of black slavery in the Americas demonstrates both the vital need to
control the mobility of labor and the irrepressible desire to flee on the part
of the slaves: from the closed ships of the Middle Passage to the elaborate
repressive techniques employed against escaped slaves. Mobility and mass worker
nomadism always express a refusal and a search for liberation: the resistance
against the horrible conditions of exploitation and the search for freedom and
new conditions of life. It would be interesting, in fact, to write a general
history of the modes of production from the standpoint of the workers' desire
for mobility (from the country to the city, from the city to the metropolis,
from one state to another, from one continent to another) rather than running
through that development simply from the standpoint of capital's regulation of
the technological conditions of labor. This history would substantially
reconfigure the Marxian conception of the stages of the organization of labor,
which has served as the theoretical framework for numerous authors up to
Polanyi.[7]
A new nomad horde, a new race of barbarians, will arise to invade or evacuate
Empire. Nietzsche was oddly prescient of their destiny in the nineteenth
century. "Problem: where are the barbarians of the twentieth century? Obviously
they will come into view and consolidate themselves only after tremendous
socialist crises."[8] We cannot say exactly what Nietzsche foresaw in his lucid
delirium, but indeed what recent event could be a stronger example of the power
of desertion and exodus, the power of the nomad horde, than the fall of the
Berlin Wall and the collapse of the entire Soviet bloc? In the desertion from
"socialist discipline," savage mobility and mass migration contributed
substantially to the collapse of the system. In fact, the desertion of
productive cadres disorganized and struck at the heart of the disciplinary
system of the bureaucratic Soviet world. The mass exodus of highly trained
workers from Eastern Europe played a central role in provoking the collapse of
the Wall.[9] Even though it refers to the particularities of the socialist state
system, this example demonstrates that the mobility of the labor force can
indeed express an open political conflict and contribute to the destruction of
the regime. What we need, however, is more. We need a force capable of not only
organizing the destructive capacities of the multitude, but also constituting
through the desires of the multitude an alternative. The counter-Empire must
also be a new global vision, a new way of living in the world.
New Barbarians
Those who are against, while escaping from the local and particular constraints
of their human condition, must also continually attempt to construct a new body
and a new life. This is a necessarily violent, barbaric passage, but as Walter
Benjamin says, it is a positive barbarism: "Barbarisms? Precisely. We affirm
this in order to introduce a new, positive notion of barbarism. What does the
poverty of experience oblige the barbarian to do? To begin anew, to begin from
the new." The new barbarian "sees nothing permanent. But for this very reason he
sees ways everywhere. Where others encounter walls or mountains, there, too, he
sees a way. But because he sees a way everywhere, he has to clear things from it
everywhere . . . Because he sees ways everywhere, he always positions himself at
crossroads. No moment can know what the next will bring. What exists he reduces
to rubble, not for the sake of the rubble, but for that of the way leading
through it."[10] The new barbarians destroy with an affirmative violence and
trace new paths of life through their own material existence.
The world is nearly all parceled out, and what there is left of it is being
divided up, conquered, and colonised. To think of these stars that you see
overhead at night, these vast worlds which we can never reach. I would annex the
planets ifI could; I often think of that. It makes me sad to see them so clear
and yet so far.
Cecil Rhodes
For a large portion of the twentieth century, the critique of imperialism has
been among the most active and urgent arenas of Marxist theory.[1] Many of these
arguments are today certainly outdated and the situation they refer to is
utterly transformed. This does not mean, however, that we have nothing to learn
from them. These critiques of imperialism can help us understand the passage
from imperialism to Empire because in certain respects they anticipated that
passage.
Marx analyzes capital's constant need for expansion first by focusing on the
process of realization and thus on the unequal quantitative relationship between
the worker as producer and the worker as consumer of commodities.[3] The problem
of realization is one of the factors that drives capital beyond its boundaries
and poses the tendency toward the world market. In order to understand the
problem we have to start out from exploitation. "To begin with," we read in the
Grundrisse, "capital forces the workers beyond necessary labour to surplus
labour. Only in this way does it realize itself, and create surplus value" (p.
421). The wage of the worker (corresponding to necessary labor) must be less
than the total value produced by the worker. This surplus value, however, must
find an adequate market in order to be realized. Since each worker must produce
more value than he or she consumes, the demand of the worker as consumer can
never be an adequate demand for the surplus value. In a closed system, the
capitalist production and exchange process is thus defined by a series of
barriers: "Capital, then, posits necessary labour time as the barrier to the
exchange value of living labour capacity; surplus labour time as the barrier to
necessary labour time; and surplus value as the barrier to surplus labour time"
(p. 422). All these barriers flow from a single barrier defined by the unequal
relationship between the worker as producer and the worker as consumer.
Certainly, the capitalist class (along with the other classes that share in its
profits) will consume some of this excess value, but it cannot consume all of
it, because ifit did there would be no surplus value left to reinvest. Instead
of consuming all the surplus value, capitalists must practice abstinence, which
is to say, they must accumulate.[4] Capital itself demands that capitalists
renounce pleasures and abstain as much as possible from "wasting" the surplus
value on their own consumption.
Rosa Luxemburg developed Marx's analysis of the problem of realization, but she
changed the inflection of that analysis. Luxemburg casts the fact that "outside
consumers qua other-than-capitalist are really essential" (pp. 365-66) in order
for capital to realize its surplus value as an indication of capital's
dependence on its outside. Capitalism is "the first mode of economy which is
unable to exist by itself, which needs other economic systems as a medium and a
soil."[9] Capital is an organism that cannot sustain itself without constantly
looking beyond its boundaries, feeding off its external environment. Its outside
is essential.
Perhaps this need constantly to expand its sphere of control is the sickness of
European capital, but perhaps it is also the motor that drove Europe to the
position of world dominance in the modern era. "Perhaps then the merit of the
West, confined as it was on its narrow 'Cape of asia,'" Fernand Braudel
supposes, "was to have needed the world, to have needed to venture outside its
own front door."[10] Capital from its inception tends toward being a world
power, or really the world power.
Capital expands not only to meet the needs of realization and find new markets
but also to satisfy the requirements of the subsequent moment in the cycle of
accumulation, that is, the process of capitalization. After surplus value has
been realized in the form of money (through intensified markets in the
capitalist domain and through reliance on noncapitalist markets), that realized
surplus value must be reinvested in production, that is, turned back into
capital. The capitalization of realized surplus value requires that for the
subsequent cycle of production the capitalist will have to secure for purchase
additional supplies of constant capital (raw materials, machinery, and so forth)
and additional variable capital (that is, labor power)-and eventually in turn
this will require an even greater extension of the market for further
realization.
The search for additional constant capital (in particular, more and newer
materials) drives capital toward a kind of imperialism characterized by pillage
and theft. Capital, Rosa Luxemburg asserts, "ransacks the whole world, it
procures its means of production from all corners of the earth, seizing them,
ifnecessary by force, from all levels of civilisation and from all forms of
society . . . It becomes necessary for capital progressively to dispose ever
more fully of the whole globe, to acquire an unlimited choice of means of
production, with regard to both quality and quantity, so as to find productive
employment for the surplus value it has realised."[11] In the acquisition of
additional means of production, capital does relate to and rely on its
noncapitalist environment, but it does not internalize that environment-or
rather, it does not necessarily make that environment capitalist. The outside
remains outside. For example, gold and diamonds can be extracted from Peru and
South Africa or sugarcane from Jamaica and Java perfectly well while those
societies and that production continue to function through noncapitalist
relations.
We should note here that European capital does not really remake noncapitalist
territories "after its own image," as if all were becoming homogeneous. Indeed,
when the Marxist critics of imperialism have recognized the processes of the
internalization of capital's outside, they have generally underestimated the
significance of the uneven development and geographical difference implicit in
them.[15] Each segment of the noncapitalist environment is transformed
differently, and all are integrated organically into the expanding body of
capital. In other words, the different segments of the outside are internalized
not on a model of similitude but as different organs that function together in
one coherent body.
It is logical to assume that there would come a time when these two moments of
the cycle of accumulation, realization and capitalization, come into direct
conflict and undermine each other. In the nineteenth century, the field for
capitalist expansion (in material resources, labor power, and markets) seemed to
stretch indefinitely, both in Europe and elsewhere. In Marx's time, capitalist
production accounted for very little of global production. Only a few countries
had substantial capitalist production (England, France, and Germany), and even
these countries still had large segments of noncapitalist production-peasant-
based agriculture, artisanal production, and so forth. Luxemburg argues,
however, that since the earth is finite, the logical conflict will eventually
become a real contradiction: "The more violently, ruthlessly and thoroughly
imperialism brings about the decline of non-capitalist civilisations, the more
rapidly it cuts the ground from under the feet of capitalist accumulation.
Though imperialism is the historical method for prolonging the career of
capitalism, it is also the sure means of bringing it to a swift conclusion."[16]
This contradictory tension is present throughout the development of capital, but
it is revealed in full view only at the limit, at the point of crisis-when
capital is faced with the finitude of humanity and the earth. Here the great
imperialist Cecil Rhodes appears as the paradigmatic capitalist. The spaces of
the globe are closing up and capital's imperialist expansion is confronting its
limits. Rhodes, ever the adventurer, gazes wistfully and yearningly at the stars
above, frustrated by the cruel temptation of those new frontiers, so close and
yet so far.
Even though their critiques of imperialism and capitalist expansion are often
presented in strictly quantitative, economic terms, the stakes for Marxist
theorists are primarily political. This does not mean that the economic
calculations (and the critiques of them) should not be taken seriously; it
means, rather, that the economic relationships must be considered as they are
really articulated in the historical and social context, as part of political
relations of rule and domination.[17] The most important political stake for
these authors in the question of economic expansion is to demonstrate the
ineluctable relationship between capitalism and imperialism. Ifcapitalism and
imperialism are essentially related, the logic goes, then any struggle against
imperialism (and the wars, misery, impoverishment, and enslavement that follow
from it) must also be a direct struggle against capitalism. Any political
strategy aimed at reforming the contemporary configuration of capitalism to make
it nonimperialist is vain and naive because the core of capitalist reproduction
and accumulation necessarily implies imperialist expansion. Capital cannot
behave otherwise-this is its nature. The evils of imperialism cannot be
confronted except by destroying capitalism itself.
Lenin regarded the position of Kautsky, who also took Hilferding's work as his
point of departure, as even more utopian and damaging. Kautsky proposed, in
effect, that capitalism could achieve a real political and economic unification
of the world market. The violent conflicts of imperialism could be followed by a
new peaceful phase of capitalism, an "ultra-imperialist" phase. The magnates of
capital could unite in a single world trust, substituting an internationally
united finance capital for the competition and struggle between nationally based
finance capitals. We can thus imagine a phase in the future, he claimed, in
which capital achieves a peaceful subsumption and resolution in which not a
unified bank but market forces and monopolies more or less regulated by states
could succeed somehow in determining the global equalization of the rate of
profit.[20] Lenin agreed with Kautsky's basic thesis that there is a trend in
capitalist development toward the international cooperation of the various
national finance capitals and possibly toward the construction of a single world
trust. What he objected to so strongly was the fact that Kautsky used this
vision of a peaceful future to negate the dynamics of the present reality; Lenin
thus denounced his "profoundly reactionary desire to blunt the contradictions"
of the present situation.[21] Rather than waiting for some peaceful
ultraimperialism to arrive in the future, revolutionaries should act now on the
contradictions posed by capital's present imperialist organization. Thus, while
generally adopting these authors' analytical propositions, Lenin rejected their
political positions. Although he fundamentally agreed with Hilferding's analysis
of the tendency toward a world market dominated by monopolies, he denied that
such a system was already in effect in such a way that it could mediate and
equalize the rate of profit. He denied this not so much theoretically as
politically. Lenin maintained that capitalist development in the monopoly phase
would be plagued by a series of contradictions and that communists had to act on
them. It was the responsibility of the workers' movement to oppose every
capitalist attempt at organizing an effective equalization of imperialist rates
of profit, and it was the task of the revolutionary party to intervene in and
deepen the objective contradictions of development. What had to be avoided most
was the realization of the tendency toward "ultraimperialism," which would
monstrously increase the power of capital and take away for a long period to
come the possibility of struggles on the most contradictory and thus weakest
links in the chain of domination. Lenin writes, either as hope or as prediction,
"This development proceeds in such circumstances, at such a pace, through such
contradictions, conflicts and upheavals-not only economic but political,
national, etc.-that inevitably imperialism will burst and capitalism will be
transformed into its opposite long before one world trust materialises, before
the 'ultra-imperialist,' world-wide amalgamation of national finance capitals
takes place."[22] Lenin's logical d‚marche here between analytical propositions
and political positions was certainly tortuous. Nevertheless, his reasoning was
very effective from the subjective point of view. As Ilya Babel said, Lenin's
thought ran along "the mysterious curve of the straight line" that carried the
analysis of the reality of the working class to the necessity of its political
organization. Lenin recognized the untimely element of the definition of
imperialism and grasped in the subjective practices of the working class not
only the potential obstacles to the linear solution of the crises of capitalist
realization (which Luxemburg emphasized too), but also the existing and concrete
possibility that these practices-struggles, insurrections, and revolutions-could
destroy imperialism itself.[23] In this sense Lenin took the critique of
imperialism from theory to practice.
When Lenin studied imperialism, he focused his attention not only on the work of
the various recent Marxist authors but also further back to the work of John
Hobson and his bourgeois populist version of the critique of imperialism.[24]
Lenin learned a great deal from Hobson-which, incidentally, he could have
learned equally well from the German, French, or Italian populist theorists of
imperialism. In particular, he learned that the modern European nationstates use
imperialism to transfer outside their own borders the political contradictions
that arise within each single country. The nation-state asks imperialism to
resolve or really displace class struggle and its destabilizing effects. Cecil
Rhodes expressed the essence of this function of imperialism most clearly: "My
cherished idea is a solution for the social problem, i.e., in order to save the
40,000,000 inhabitants of the United Kingdom from a bloody civil war, we
colonial statesmen must acquire new lands to settle the surplus population, to
provide new markets for the goods produced by them in the factories and mines.
The Empire, as I have always said, is a bread and butter question. Ifyou want to
avoid civil war, you must become imperialists."[25] Through imperialism, the
modern state exports class struggle and civil war in order to preserve order and
sovereignty at home.
Lenin recognized finally that, although imperialism and the monopoly phase were
indeed expressions of the global expansion of capital, the imperialist practices
and the colonial administrations through which they were often pursued had come
to be obstacles to the further development of capital. He emphasized the fact,
noted by many critics of imperialism, that competition, essential for the
functioning and expansion of capital, declines necessarily in the imperialist
phase in proportion to the growth of monopolies. Imperialism, with its trade
exclusives and protective tariffs, its national and colonial territories, is
continually posing and reinforcing fixed boundaries, blocking or channeling
economic, social, and cultural flows. As we saw earlier in cultural terms (in
Section 2.3), and as Luxemburg argues in economic terms, imperialism rests
heavily on these fixed boundaries and the distinction between inside and
outside. Imperialism actually creates a straitjacket for capital- or, more
precisely, at a certain point the boundaries created by imperialist practices
obstruct capitalist development and the full realization of its world market.
Capital must eventually overcome imperialism and destroy the barriers between
inside and outside. It would be an exaggeration to say that, on the basis of
these intuitions, Lenin's analysis of imperialism and its crisis leads directly
to the theory of Empire. It is true, nonetheless, that his revolutionary
standpoint revealed the fundamental node of capitalist development -or better,
the Gordian knot that had to be undone. Even though Lenin's practical and
political proposal for world revolution was defeated (and soon we will focus on
the reasons for this defeat), something like the transformation he foresaw was
nonetheless necessary. Lenin's analysis of the crisis of imperialism had the
same power and necessity as had Machiavelli's analysis of the crisis of the
medieval order: the reaction had to be revolutionary. This is the alternative
implicit in Lenin's work: either world communist revolution or Empire, and there
is a profound analogy between these two choices.
We thus arrive at the delicate passage through which the subjectivity of class
struggle transforms imperialism into Empire. In this third part of our book we
will trace the genealogy of the economic order of Empire so as to reveal the
global nature of proletarian class struggle and its ability to anticipate and
prefigure the developments of capital toward the realization of the world
market. We still need to identify, however, a theoretical schema that can
sustain us in this inquiry. The old analyses of imperialism will not be
sufficient here because in the end they stop at the threshold of the analysis of
subjectivity and concentrate rather on the contradictions of capital's own
development. We need to identify a theoretical schema that puts the subjectivity
of the social movements of the proletariat at center stage in the processes of
globalization and the constitution of global order.
The analyses of the state and the world market also become possible in Empire
for another reason, because at this point in development class struggle acts
without limit on the organization of power. Having achieved the global level,
capitalist development is faced directly with the multitude, without mediation.
Hence the dialectic, or really the science of the limit and its organization,
evaporates. Class struggle, pushing the nation-state toward its abolition and
thus going beyond the barriers posed by it, proposes the constitution of Empire
as the site of analysis and conflict. Without that barrier, then, the situation
of struggle is completely open. Capital and labor are opposed in a directly
antagonistic form. This is the fundamental condition of every political theory
of communism.
CYCLES
From imperialism to Empire and from the nation-state to the political regulation
of the global market: what we are witnessing, considered from the point of view
of historical materialism, is a qualitative passage in modern history. When we
are incapable of expressing adequately the enormous importance of this passage,
we sometimes quite poorly define what is happening as the entry into
postmodernity. We recognize the poverty of this description, but we sometimes
prefer it to others because at least postmodernity indicates the epochal shift
in contemporary history.[1] Other authors, however, seem to undervalue the
difference of our situation and lead the analysis back to the categories of a
cyclical understanding of historical evolution. What we are living today, in
their view, would merely be another phase in the regularly repeating cycles of
the forms of economic development or forms of government.
Giovanni Arrighi adopted the methodology of long cycles to write a rich and
fascinating analysis of "the long twentieth century."[2] The book is focused
primarily on understanding how the crisis of United States hegemony and
accumulation in the 1970s (indicated, for example, by the decoupling of the
dollar from the gold standard in 1971 and by the defeat of the U.S. military in
Vietnam) is a fundamental turning point in the history of world capitalism. In
order to approach the contemporary passage, however, Arrighi believes that we
need to step back and situate this crisis in the long history of cycles of
capitalist accumulation. Following the methodology of Fernand Braudel, Arrighi
constructs an enormous historical and analytical apparatus of four great
systemic cycles of capitalist accumulation, four "long centuries," that situate
the United States in line after the Genoese, the Dutch, and the British.
This set off actors underlay the great economic crisis of 1929-a crisis of both
capitalist overinvestment and proletarian underconsumption in the dominant
capitalist countries.[1] When Wall Street's "Black Friday" officially declared
the crisis open, the rulers had to face the general problems of the capitalist
system and search for a solution, if one was still possible. What they should
have done at Versailles during the peace negotiations-deal with the causes of
the interimperialist war rather than simply punish the losers2-now had to be
done within each individual country. Capitalism had to be transformed radically.
The governments of the primary imperialist countries, however, were not able to
accomplish this. In Great Britain and France, reform never really took place,
and the few attempts got bogged down in the face of the conservative reaction.
In Italy and Germany, the project to restructure capitalist relations eventually
evolved into Nazism and fascism.[3] In Japan, too, capitalist growth took the
form of militarism and imperialism.[4] Only in the United States was capitalist
reform put into effect and proposed as a democratic New Deal. The New Deal
constituted a real departure from the previous forms of the bourgeois regulation
of economic development. For our analysis, the importance of the New Deal should
be gauged not only in terms of its capacity to restructure the relations of
production and power within a single dominant capitalist country but also, above
all, in terms of its effects throughout the world-effects that were not direct
or straightforward but nonetheless profound. With the New Deal the real process
of surpassing imperialism began to take root.
The New Deal model, then, was first of all a development proper to U.S.
politics, a response to the domestic economic crisis, but it also became a flag
that the U.S. Army raised throughout the course of the Second World War. Several
explanations were given for why the United States entered the war. Roosevelt
always claimed to have been dragged in unwillingly by the dynamics of
international politics. Keynes and the economists thought instead that the needs
of the New Deal-confronted as it was in 1937 by a new type of crisis, challenged
by the political pressure of workers' demands-had obliged the U.S. government to
choose the path of war. Facing an international struggle for the new repartition
of the world market, the United States could not avoid the war, in particular
because with the New Deal, the U.S. economy had entered into another expansive
phase. In either case, the U.S. entry into World War II tied the New Deal
indissolubly to the crisis of European imperialisms and projected the New Deal
on the scene of world government as an alternative, successor model. From that
point on, the effects of the New Deal reforms would be felt over the entire
global terrain. In the aftermath of the war, many viewed the New Deal model as
the only path to global recovery (under the pacific powers of U.S. hegemony). As
one U.S. commentator wrote, "Only a New Deal for the world, more far reaching
and consistent than our faltering New Deal, can prevent the coming of World War
III."[9] The economic reconstruction projects launched after the Second World
War did in fact impose on all the dominant capitalist countries, both the
victorious Allies and the defeated powers, adhesion to the expansive model of
disciplinary society according to the model constructed by the New Deal. The
previous European and Japanese forms of state-based public assistance and the
development of the corporativist state (in both its liberal and national-
socialist forms) were thus substantially transformed. The "social state" was
born, or really the global disciplinary state, which took into account more
widely and deeply the life cycles of populations, ordering their production and
reproduction within a scheme of collective bargaining fixed by a stable monetary
regime. With the extension of U.S. hegemony, the dollar became king. The
initiative of the dollar (through the Marshall Plan in Europe and the economic
reconstruction in Japan) was the ineluctable path to postwar reconstruction; the
establishment of the dollar's hegemony (through the Bretton Woods accords) was
tied to the stability of all the standards of value; and U.S. military power
determined the ultimate exercise of sovereignty with respect to each of the
dominant and subordinate capitalist countries. All the way up to the 1960s this
model was expanded and perfected. It was the Golden Age of the New Deal reform
of capitalism on the world stage.[10]
As a result of the project of economic and social reform under U.S. hegemony,
the imperialist politics of the dominant capitalist countries was transformed in
the postwar period. The new global scene was defined and organized primarily
around three mechanisms or apparatuses: (1) the process of decolonization that
gradually recomposed the world market along hierarchical lines branching out
from the United States; (2) the gradual decentralization of production; and (3)
the construction of a framework of international relations that spread across
the globe the disciplinary productive regime and disciplinary society in its
successive evolutions. Each of these aspects constitutes a step in the evolution
from imperialism toward Empire.
The second mechanism is defined by a process of decentering the sites and flows
of production.[14] Here, as in decolonization, two phases divide the postwar
period. A first, neocolonial phase involved the continuity of the old
hierarchical imperialist procedures and the maintenance ifnot deepening of the
mechanisms of unequal exchange between subordinated regions and dominant nation-
states. This first period, however, was a brieftransitional phase, and, in
effect, in the arc of twenty years the scene changed radically. By the end of
the 1970s, or really by the end of the Vietnam War, transnational corporations
began to establish their activities firmly across the globe, in every corner of
the planet. The transnationals became the fundamental motor of the economic and
political transformation of postcolonial countries and subordinated regions. In
the first place, they served to transfer the technology that was essential for
constructing the new productive axis of the subordinate countries; second, they
mobilized the labor force and local productive capacities in these countries;
and finally, the transnationals collected the flows of wealth that began to
circulate on an enlarged base across the globe. These multiple flows began to
converge essentially toward the United States, which guaranteed and coordinated,
when it did not directly command, the movement and operation of the
transnationals. This was a decisive constituent phase of Empire. Through the
activities of the transnational corporations, the mediation and equalization of
the rates of profit were unhinged from the power of the dominant nation-states.
Furthermore, the constitution of capitalist interests tied to the new
postcolonial nation-states, far from opposing the intervention of
transnationals, developed on the terrain of the transnationals themselves and
tended to be formed under their control. Through the decentering of productive
flows, new regional economies and a new global division of labor began to be
determined.[15] There was no global order yet, but an order was being formed.
Along with the decolonization process and the decentering of flows, a third
mechanism involved the spread of disciplinary forms of production and government
across the world. This process was highly ambiguous. In the postcolonial
countries, discipline required first of all transforming the massive popular
mobilization for liberation into a mobilization for production. Peasants
throughout the world were uprooted from their fields and villages and thrown
into the burning forge of world production.[16] The ideological model that was
projected from the dominant countries (particularly from the United States)
consisted of Fordist wage regimes, Taylorist methods of the organization of
labor, and a welfare state that would be modernizing, paternalistic, and
protective. From the standpoint of capital, the dream of this model was that
eventually every worker in the world, sufficiently disciplined, would be
interchangeable in the global productive process-a global factorysociety and a
global Fordism. The high wages of a Fordist regime and the accompanying state
assistance were posed as the workers' rewards for accepting disciplinarity, for
entering the global factory. We should be careful to point out, however, that
these specific relations of production, which were developed in the dominant
countries, were never realized in the same forms in the subordinated regions of
the global economy. The regime of high wages that characterizes Fordism and the
broad social assistance that characterizes the welfare state were realized only
in fragmentary forms and for limited populations in the subordinated capitalist
countries. All this, however, did not really have to be realized; its promise
served rather as the ideological carrot to ensure sufficient consensus for the
modernizing project. The real substance of the effort, the real take-off toward
modernity, which was in fact achieved, was the spread of the disciplinary regime
throughout the social spheres of production and reproduction.
The cold war was the dominant figure on the global scene during the period of
decolonization and decentralization, but from today's vantage point we have the
impression that its role was really secondary. Although the specular oppositions
of the cold war strangled both the U.S. imperial project and the Stalinist
project of socialist modernization, these were really minor elements of the
entire process. The truly important element, whose significance goes well beyond
the history of the cold war, was the gigantic postcolonial transformation of the
Third World under the guise of modernization and development. In the final
analysis, that project was relatively independent of the dynamics and
constraints of the cold war, and one could almost claim, post factum, that in
the Third World the competition between the two world power blocs merely
accelerated the processes of liberation.
It is certainly true that the Third World elites who led the anticolonial and
anti-imperialist struggles during this period were ideologically tied to one or
the other side of the cold war divide, and in both cases they defined the mass
project of liberation in terms of modernization and development. For us,
however, poised as we are at the far border of modernity, it is not difficult to
recognize the tragic lack of perspective involved in the translation of
liberation into modernization. The myth of modernity-and thus of sovereignty,
the nation, the disciplinary model, and so forth-was virtually the exclusive
ideology of the elites, but this is not the most important factor here.
The question what to do after liberation so as not to fall under the domination
of one camp or the other remained unanswered. What were clear and full of
potential, by contrast, were the subjectivities that pushed beyond modernity.
The utopian image of the Soviet and Chinese revolutions as alternatives for
development vanished when those revolutions could no longer go forward, or
rather when they failed to find a way to go beyond modernity. The U.S. model of
development appeared equally closed, since throughout the postwar period the
United States presented itself more as the police force of the old imperialisms
than the agent of a new hope. The struggle of subaltern populations for their
liberation remained an explosive and uncontainable mixture. By the end of the
1960s the liberation struggles, whose influence had come to be felt in every
interstice of world space, assumed a force, a mobility, and a plasticity of form
that drove the project of capitalist modernization (in both its liberal and its
socialist guises) out into an open sea, where it lost its bearings. Behind the
fa‡ade of the bipolar U.S.-Soviet divide they could discern a single
disciplinary model, and against this model the enormous movements struggled, in
forms that were more or less ambiguous, more or less mystified, but nonetheless
real. This enormous new subjectivity alluded to and made necessary a paradigm
shift.
The inadequacy of the theory and practice of modern sovereignty became evident
at this point. By the 1960s and 1970s, even though the model of disciplinary
modernization had been imposed across the world, even though the welfarist
policies set in motion by the dominant countries had become unstoppable and were
naively championed by leaders in the subordinated countries, and even in this
new world of communicative media and networks, the mechanisms of modern
sovereignty were no longer sufficient to rule the new subjectivities. We should
point out here that as the paradigm of modern sovereignty lost its
effectiveness, so too the classical theories of imperialism and anti-imperialism
lost whatever explanatory powers they had. In general, when these theories
conceived the surpassing of imperialism, they saw it as a process that would be
in perfect continuity with the paradigm of modernization and modern sovereignty.
What happened, however, was exactly the opposite. Massified subjectivities,
populations, oppressed classes, in the very moment when they entered the
processes of modernization, began to transform them and go beyond them. The
struggles for liberation, in the very moment when they were situated and
subordinated in the world market, recognized insufficient and tragic keystone of
modern sovereignty. Exploitation and domination could no longer be imposed in
their modern forms. As these enormous new subjective forces emerged from
colonization and reached modernity, they recognized that the primary task is not
getting into but getting out of modernity.
A paradigm shift in the world economic and political order was taking place. One
important element of this passage was the fact that the world market as a
structure of hierarchy and command became more important and decisive in all the
zones and regions in which the old imperialisms had previously operated. The
world market began to appear as the centerpiece of an apparatus that could
regulate global networks of circulation. This unification was still posed only
at a formal level. The processes that arose on the conflictual terrain of
liberation struggles and expanding capitalist circulation were not necessarily
or immediately compatible with the new structures of the world market.
Integration proceeded unevenly and at different speeds. In different regions and
often within the same region, diverse forms of labor and production coexisted,
as did also different regimes of social reproduction. What might have seemed
like a coherent central axis of the restructuring of global production was
shattered into a thousand particular fragments and the unifying process was
experienced everywhere singularly. Far from being unidimensional, the process of
restructuring and unifying command over production was actually an explosion of
innumerable different productive systems. The processes of the unification of
the world market operated paradoxically through diversity and diversification,
but its tendency was nonetheless real.
Several important effects follow from the tendency toward the unification of the
world market. On the one hand, the wide spread of the disciplinary model of the
organization of labor and society outward from the dominant regions produced in
the rest of the world a strange effect of proximity, simultaneously pulling it
closer and isolating it away in a ghetto. That is, liberation struggles found
themselves "victorious" but nonetheless consigned to the ghetto of the world
market-a vast ghetto with indeterminate borders, a shantytown, a favela. Onthe
other hand, huge populations underwent what might be called wage emancipation as
a result of these processes. Wage emancipation meant the entrance of great
masses of workers into the disciplinary regime of modern capitalist production,
whether it be in the factory, the fields, or some other site of social
production, and hence these populations were liberated from the semi-servitude
that imperialism had perpetuated. Entry into the wage system can be bloody (and
it has been); it can reproduce systems of ferocious repression (and it has done
so); but even in the shacks of the new shantytowns and favelas, the wage
relation does determine the constitution of new needs, desires, and demands. For
example, the peasants who become wage workers and who are subjected to the
discipline of the new organization of labor in many cases suffer worse living
conditions, and one cannot say that they are more free than the traditional
territorialized laborer, but they do become infused with a new desire for
liberation. When the new disciplinary regime constructs the tendency toward a
global market of labor power, it constructs also the possibility of its
antithesis. It constructs the desire to escape the disciplinary regime and
tendentially an undisciplined multitude of workers who want to be free.
Some significant macroeconomic effects follow from the new mobility introduced
by capital's global disciplinary paradigm. The mobility of populations makes it
increasingly difficult to manage national markets (particularly national labor
markets) individually. The adequate domain for the application of capitalist
command is no longer delimited by national borders or by the traditional
international boundaries. Workers who flee the Third World to go to the First
for work or wealth contribute to undermining the boundaries between the two
worlds. The Third World does not really disappear in the process of unification
of the world market but enters into the First, establishes itself at the heart
as ghetto, shantytown, favela, always again produced and reproduced. In turn,
the First World is transferred to the Third in the form of stock exchanges and
banks, transnational corporations and icy skyscrapers of money and command.
Economic geography and political geography both are destabilized in such a way
that the boundaries among the various zones are themselves fluid and mobile. As
a result, the entire world market tends to be the only coherent domain for the
effective application of capitalist management and command.
At this point the capitalist regimes have to undergo a process of reform and
restructuring in order to ensure their capacity to organize the world market.
This tendency emerges clearly only in the 1980s (and is established definitively
after the collapse of the Soviet model of modernization), but already at the
moment of its first appearance its principal features are clearly defined. It
has to be a new mechanism of the general control of the global process and thus
a mechanism that can coordinate politically the new dynamics of the global
domain of capital and the subjective dimensions of the actors; it has to be able
to articulate the imperial dimension of command and the transversal mobility of
the subjects. We will see in the next section how this process was realized
historically, and thus we will begin to address directly the processes of the
constitution of a global apparatus of government.
Real Subsumption and the World Market
Before we move on, the expository development of our study demands that we look
more closely at the relationship between this tendency toward the realization of
the world market and the paradigm of disciplinary production and government. How
does the spread of disciplinary regimes throughout the world represent a
fundamental genealogical moment of Empire? We can give one explanation why this
is the case by linking Marx's description of the phases of the capitalist
subsumption of society together with his analyses of the tendency toward the
world market. The two movements actually coincide at a certain point, or really
the capitalist subsumption of society tends to be completed in the construction
of the world market.
Just when the proletariat seems to be disappearing from the world stage, the
proletariat is becoming the universal figure of labor. This claim is not
actually as paradoxical as it may seem. What has disappeared is the hegemonic
position of the industrial working class, which has not disappeared or even
declined in numbers-it has merely lost its hegemonic position and shifted
geographically. We understand the concept "proletariat," however, to refer not
just to the industrial working class but to all those who are subordinated to,
exploited by, and produce under the rule of capital. From this perspective,
then, as capital ever more globalizes its relations of production, all forms of
labor tend to be proletarianized. In each society and across the entire world
the proletariat is the ever more general figure of social labor. Marx described
the processes of proletarianization in terms of primitive accumulation, the
prior or previous accumulation necessary before capitalist production and
reproduction can begin to take place. What is necessary is not merely an
accumulation of wealth or property, but a social accumulation, the creation of
capitalists and proletarians. The essential historical process, then, involves
first of all divorcing the producer from the means of production. For Marx it
was sufficient to describe the English example of this social transformation,
since England represented the "highest point" of capitalist development at the
time. In England, Marx explains, proletarianization was accomplished first by
the enclosures of the common lands and the clearing of peasants from the
estates, and then by the brutal punishment of vagabondage and vagrancy. The
English peasant was thus "freed" from all previous means of subsistence, herded
toward the new manufacturing towns, and made ready for the wage relation and the
discipline of capitalist production. The central motor for the creation of
capitalists, by contrast, came from outside England, from commerce-or really
from conquest, the slave trade, and the colonial system. "The treasures captured
outside Europe by undisguised looting, enslavement and murder," Marx writes,
"flowed back to the mother-country and were turned into capital there."[1] The
enormous influx of wealth overflowed the capacities of the old feudal relations
of production. English capitalists sprang up to embody the new regime of command
that could exploit this new wealth.
The continuity of struggle is easy: the workers need only themselves and the
boss in front of them. But the continuity of organization is a rare and complex
thing: as soon as it is institutionalized it quickly becomes used by capitalism,
or by the workers' movement in the service of capitalism.
Mario Tronti
Jerry Rubin
Earlier we posed the Vietnam War as a deviation from the U.S. constitutional
project and its tendency toward Empire. The war was also, however, an expression
of the desire for freedom of the Vietnamese, an expression of peasant and
proletarian subjectivity -a fundamental example of resistance against both the
final forms of imperialism and the international disciplinary regime. The
Vietnam War represents a real turning point in the history of contemporary
capitalism insofar as the Vietnamese resistance is conceived as the symbolic
center of a whole series of struggles around the world that had up until that
point remained separate and distant from one another. The peasantry who were
being subsumed under multinational capital, the (post)colonial proletariat, the
industrial working class in the dominant capitalist countries, and the new
strata of intellectual proletariat everywhere all tended toward a common site of
exploitation in the factory-society of the globalized disciplinary regime. The
various struggles converged against one common enemy: the international
disciplinary order. An objective unity was established, sometimes with the
consciousness of those in struggle and sometimes without. The long cycle of
struggles against the disciplinary regimes had reached maturity and forced
capital to modify its own structures and undergo a paradigm shift.
This accumulation of struggles undermined the capitalist strategy that had long
relied on the hierarchies of the international divisions of labor to block any
global unity among workers. Already in the nineteenth century, before European
imperialism had fully bloomed, Engels was bemoaning the fact that the English
proletariat was put in the position of a "labor aristocracy" because its
interests lay with the project of British imperialism rather than with the ranks
of colonial labor power. In the period of the decline of imperialisms, strong
international divisions of labor certainly remained, but the imperialist
advantages of any national working class had begun to wither away. The common
struggles of the proletariat in the subordinate countries took away the
possibility of the old imperialist strategy of transferring the crisis from the
metropolitan terrain to its subordinate territories. It was no longer feasible
to rely on Cecil Rhodes's old strategy of placating the domestic dangers of
class struggle in Europe by shifting the economic pressures to the still
peaceful order of the dominated imperialist terrain maintained with brutally
effective techniques. The proletariat formed on the imperialist terrain was now
itself organized, armed, and dangerous. There was thus a tendency toward the
unity of the international or multinational proletariat in one common attack
against the capitalist disciplinary regime.[5] The resistance and initiative of
the proletariat in the subordinate countries resonated as a symbol and model
both above and within the proletariat of the dominant capitalist countries. By
virtue of this convergence, the worker struggles throughout the domain of
international capital already decreed the end of the division between First and
Third Worlds and the potential political integration of the entire global
proletariat. The convergence of struggles posed on an international scale the
problem of transforming laboring cooperation into revolutionary organization and
actualizing the virtual political unity. With this objective convergence and
accumulation of struggles, Third Worldist perspectives, which may earlier have
had a limited utility, were now completely useless. We understand Third Worldism
to be defined by the notion that the primary contradiction and antagonism of the
international capitalist system is between the capital of the First World and
the labor of the Third.[6] The potential for revolution thus resides squarely
and exclusively in the Third World. This view has been evoked implicitly and
explicitly in a variety of dependency theories, theories of underdevelopment,
and world system perspectives.[7] The limited merit of the Third Worldist
perspective was that it directly countered the "First Worldist" or Eurocentric
view that innovation and change have always originated, and can only originate,
in Euro-America. Its specular opposition of this false claim, however, leads
only to a position that is equally false. We find this Third Worldist
perspective inadequate because it ignores the innovations and antagonisms of
labor in the First and Second Worlds. Furthermore, and most important for our
argument here, the Third Worldist perspective is blind to the real convergence
of struggles across the world, in the dominant and subordinate countries alike.
In the 1970s the crisis became official and structural. The system of political
and economic equilibria invented at Bretton Woods had been completely thrown
into disarray, and what remained was only the brute fact of U.S. hegemony. The
declining effectiveness of the Bretton Woods mechanisms and the decomposition of
the monetary system of Fordism in the dominant countries made it clear that the
reconstruction of an international system of capital would have to involve a
comprehensive restructuring of economic relations and a paradigm shift in the
definition of world command. Such a crisis, however, is not always an entirely
negative or unwelcome event from the perspective of capital. Marx claims that
capital does indeed have a fundamental interest in economic crisis for its
transformative power. With respect to the overall system, individual capitalists
are conservative. They are focused primarily on maximizing their individual
profits in the short term even when this leads down a ruinous path for
collective capital in the long term. Economic crisis can overcome these
resistances, destroy unprofitable sectors, restructure the organization of
production, and renew its technologies. In other words, economic crisis can push
forward a transformation that reestablishes a high general rate of profit, thus
responding effectively on the very terrain defined by the worker attack.
Capital's general devaluation and its efforts to destroy worker organization
serve to transform the substance of the crisis-the disequilibria of circulation
and overproduction-into a reorganized apparatus of command that rearticulates
the relationship between development and exploitation.
Given the intensity and coherence of the struggles of the 1960s and 1970s, two
paths were open to capital for accomplishing the tasks of placating the
struggles and restructuring command, and it tried each of them in turn. The
first path, which had only a limited effectiveness, was the repressive option-a
fundamentally conservative operation. Capital's repressive strategy was aimed at
completely reversing the social process, separating and disaggregating the labor
market, and reestablishing control over the entire cycle of production. Capital
thus privileged the organizations that represented a guaranteed wage for a
limited portion of the work force, fixing that segment of the population within
their structures and reinforcing the separation between those workers and more
marginalized populations. The reconstruction of a system of hierarchical
compartmentalization, both within each nation and internationally, was
accomplished by controlling social mobility and fluidity. The repressive use of
technology, including the automation and computerization of production, was a
central weapon wielded in this effort. The previous fundamental technological
transformation in the history of capitalist production (that is, the
introduction of the assembly line and the mass manufacturing regime) involved
crucial modifications of the immediate productive processes (Taylorism) and an
enormous step forward in the regulation of the social cycle of reproduction
(Fordism). The technological transformations of the 1970s, however, with their
thrust toward automatic rationalization, pushed these regimes to the extreme
limit of their effectiveness, to the breaking point. Taylorist and Fordist
mechanisms could no longer control the dynamic of productive and social
forces.[13] Repression exercised through the old framework of control could
perhaps keep a lid on the destructive powers of the crisis and the fury of the
worker attack, but it was ultimately also a self-destructive response that would
suffocate capitalist production itself. At the same time, then, a second path
had to come into play, one that would involve a technological transformation
aimed no longer only at repression but rather at changing the very composition
of the proletariat, and thus integrating, dominating, and profiting from its new
practices and forms. In order to understand the emergence of this second path of
capitalist response to the crisis, however, the path that constitutes a paradigm
shift, we have to look beyond the immediate logic of capitalist strategy and
planning. The history of capitalist forms is always necessarily a reactive
history: left to its own devices capital would never abandon a regime of profit.
In other words, capitalism undergoes systemic transformation only when it is
forced to and when its current regime is no longer tenable. In order to grasp
the process from the perspective of its active element, we need to adopt the
standpoint of the other side-that is, the standpoint of the proletariat along
with that of the remaining noncapitalist world that is progressively being drawn
into capitalist relations. The power of the proletariat imposes limits on
capital and not only determines the crisis but also dictates the terms and
nature of the transformation. The proletariat actually invents the social and
productive forms that capital will be forced to adopt in the future. We can get
a first hint of this determinant role of the proletariat by asking ourselves how
throughout the crisis the United States was able to maintain its hegemony. The
answer lies in large part, perhaps paradoxically, not in the genius of U.S.
politicians or capitalists, but in the power and creativity of the U.S.
proletariat. Whereas earlier, from another perspective, we posed the Vietnamese
resistance as the symbolic center of the struggles, now, in terms of the
paradigm shift of international capitalist command, the U.S. proletariat appears
as the subjective figure that expressed most fully the desires and needs of
international or multinational workers.[14] Against the common wisdom that the
U.S. proletariat is weak because of its low party and union representation with
respect to Europe and elsewhere, perhaps we should see it as strong for
precisely those reasons. Working-class power resides not in the representative
institutions but in the antagonism and autonomy of the workers themselves.[15]
This is what marked the real power of the U.S. industrial working class.
Moreover, the creativity and conflictuality of the proletariat resided also, and
perhaps more important, in the laboring populations outside the factories. Even
(and especially) those who actively refused work posed serious threats and
creative alternatives.[16] In order to understand the continuation of U.S.
hegemony, then, it is not sufficient to cite the relations of force that U.S.
capitalism wielded over the capitalists in other countries. U.S. hegemony was
actually sustained by the antagonistic power of the U.S. proletariat.
The new hegemony that seemed to remain in the hands of the United States was
still limited at this point, closed within the old mechanisms of disciplinary
restructuring. A paradigm shift was needed to design the restructuring process
along the lines of the political and technological shift. In other words,
capital had to confront and respond to the new production of subjectivity of the
proletariat. This new production of subjectivity reached (beyond the struggle
over welfare, which we have already mentioned) what might be called an
ecological struggle, a struggle over the mode of life, that was eventually
expressed in the developments of immaterial labor.
We are still not yet in a position to understand the nature of the second path
of capital's response to the crisis, the paradigm shift that will move it beyond
the logics and practices of disciplinary modernization. We need to step back
once again and examine the limitations imposed on capital by the international
proletariat and the noncapitalist environment that both made the transformation
necessary and dictated its terms.
At the time of the First World War it seemed to many observers, and particularly
to the Marxist theorists of imperialism, that the death knell had sounded and
capital had reached the threshold of a fatal disaster. Capitalism had pursued
decades-long crusades of expansion, used up significant portions of the globe
for its accumulation, and for the first time been forced to confront the limits
of its frontiers. As these limits approached, imperialist powers inevitably
found themselves in mortal conflict with one another. Capital depended on its
outside, as Rosa Luxemburg said, on its noncapitalist environment, in order to
realize and capitalize its surplus value and thus continue its cycles of
accumulation. In the early twentieth century it appeared that the imperialist
adventures of capitalist accumulation would soon deplete the surrounding
noncapitalist nature and capital would starve to death. Everything outside the
capitalist relation-be it human, animal, vegetable, or mineral-was seen from the
perspective of capital and its expansion as nature.[17] The critique of
capitalist imperialism thus expressed an ecological consciousness -ecological
precisely insofar as it recognized the real limits of nature and the
catastrophic consequences of its destruction.[18]
Well, as we write this book and the twentieth century draws to a close,
capitalism is miraculously healthy, its accumulation more robust than ever. How
can we reconcile this fact with the careful analyses of numerous Marxist authors
at the beginning of the century who pointed to the imperialist conflicts as
symptoms of an impending ecological disaster running up against the limits of
nature? There are three ways we might approach this mystery of capital's
continuing health. First, some claim that capital is no longer imperialist, that
it has reformed, turned back the clock to its salad days of free competition,
and developed a conservationist, ecological relationship with its noncapitalist
environment. Even if theorists from Marx to Luxemburg had not demonstrated that
such a process runs counter to the essence of capitalist accumulation itself,
merely a cursory glance at contemporary global political economy should persuade
anyone to dismiss this explanation out of hand. It is quite clear that
capitalist expansion continued at an increasing pace in the latter halfof the
twentieth century, opening new territories to the capitalist market and
subsuming noncapitalist productive processes under the rule of capital.
The social struggles not only raised the costs of reproduction and the social
wage (hence decreasing the rate of profit), but also and more important forced a
change in the quality and nature of labor itself. Particularly in the dominant
capitalist countries, where the margin of freedom afforded to and won by workers
was greatest, the refusal of the disciplinary regime of the social factory was
accompanied by a reevaluation of the social value of the entire set of
productive activities. The disciplinary regime clearly no longer succeeded in
containing the needs and desires of young people. The prospect of getting a job
that guarantees regular and stable work for eight hours a day, fifty weeks a
year, for an entire working life, the prospect of entering the normalized regime
of the social factory, which had been a dream for many of their parents, now
appeared as a kind of death. The mass refusal of the disciplinary regime, which
took a variety of forms, was not only a negative expression but also a moment of
creation, what Nietzsche calls a transvaluation of values.
"Dropping out" was really a poor conception of what was going on in Haight-
Ashbury and across the United States in the 1960s. The two essential operations
were the refusal of the disciplinary regime and the experimentation with new
forms of productivity. The refusal appeared in a wide variety of guises and
proliferated in thousands of daily practices. It was the college student who
experimented with LSD instead of looking for a job; it was the young woman who
refused to get married and make a family; it was the "shiftless" African-
American worker who moved on "CP" (colored people's) time, refusing work in
every way possible.[23] The youth who refused the deadening repetition of the
factory-society invented new forms of mobility and flexibility, new styles of
living. Student movements forced a high social value to be accorded to knowledge
and intellectual labor. Feminist movements that made clear the political content
of "personal" relationships and refused patriarchal discipline raised the social
value of what has traditionally been considered women's work, which involves a
high content of affective or caring labor and centers on services necessary for
social reproduction.[24] The entire panoply of movements and the entire emerging
counterculture highlighted the social value of cooperation and communication.
This massive transvaluation of the values of social production and production of
new subjectivities opened the way for a powerful transformation of labor power.
In the next section we will see in detail how the indexes of the value of the
movements-mobility, flexibility, knowledge, communication, cooperation, the
affective-would define the transformation of capitalist production in the
subsequent decades.
The various analyses of "new social movements" have done a great service in
insisting on the political importance of cultural movements against narrowly
economic perspectives that minimize their significance.[25] These analyses,
however, are extremely limited themselves because, just like the perspectives
they oppose, they perpetuate narrow understandings of the economic and the
cultural. Most important, they fail to recognize the profound economic power of
the cultural movements, or really the increasing indistinguishability of
economic and cultural phenomena. On the one hand, capitalist relations were
expanding to subsume all aspects of social production and reproduction, the
entire realm of life; and on the other hand, cultural relations were redefining
production processes and economic structures of value. A regime of production,
and above all a regime of the production of subjectivity, was being destroyed
and another invented by the enormous accumulation of struggles.
These new circuits of the production of subjectivity, which were centered on the
dramatic modifications of value and labor, were realized within and against the
final period of the disciplinary organization of society. The movements
anticipated the capitalist awareness of a need for a paradigm shift in
production and dictated its form and nature. If the Vietnam War had not taken
place, if there had not been worker and student revolts in the 1960s, if there
had not been 1968 and the second wave of the women's movements, if there had not
been the whole series of anti-imperialist struggles, capital would have been
content to maintain its own arrangement of power, happy to have been saved the
trouble of shifting the paradigm of production! It would have been content for
several good reasons: because the natural limits of development served it well;
because it was threatened by the development of immaterial labor; because it
knew that the transversal mobility and hybridization of world labor power opened
the potential for new crises and class conflicts on an order never before
experienced. The restructuring of production, from Fordism to post-Fordism, from
modernization to postmodernization, was anticipated by the rise of a new
subjectivity.[26] The passage from the phase of perfecting the disciplinary
regime to the successive phase of shifting the productive paradigm was driven
from below, by a proletariat whose composition had already changed. Capital did
not need to invent a new paradigm (even ifit were capable of doing so) because
the truly creative moment had already taken place. Capital's problem was rather
to dominate a new composition that had already been produced autonomously and
defined within a new relationship to nature and labor, a relationship of
autonomous production.
At this point the disciplinary system has become completely obsolete and must be
left behind. Capital must accomplish a negative mirroring and an inversion of
the new quality of labor power; it must adjust itself so as to be able to
command once again. We suspect that for this reason the industrial and political
forces that have relied most heavily and with the most intelligence on the
extreme modernization of the disciplinary productive model (such as the major
elements of Japanese and East Asian capital) are the ones that will suffer most
severely in this passage. The only configurations of capital able to thrive in
the new world will be those that adapt to and govern the new immaterial,
cooperative, communicative, and affective composition of labor power.
Now that we have given a first approximation of the conditions and forms of the
new paradigm, we want to examine briefly one gigantic subjective effect that the
paradigm shift determined in the course of its movement: the collapse of the
Soviet system. Our thesis, which we share with many scholars of the Soviet
world,[27] is that the system went into crisis and fell apart because of its
structural incapacity to go beyond the model of disciplinary governability, with
respect to both its mode of production, which was Fordist and Taylorist, and its
form of political command, which was Keynesian-socialist and thus simply
modernizing internally and imperialist externally. This lack of flexibility in
adapting its deployments of command and its productive apparatus to the changes
of labor power exacerbated the difficulties of the transformation. The heavy
bureaucracy of the Soviet state, inherited from a long period of intense
modernization, placed Soviet power in an impossible position when it had to
react to the new demands and desires that the globally emerging subjectivities
expressed, first within the process of modernization and then at its outer
limits.
The challenge of postmodernity was posed primarily not by the enemy powers but
by the new subjectivity of labor power and its new intellectual and
communicative composition. The regime, particularly in its illiberal aspects,
was unable to respond adequately to these subjective demands. The system could
have continued, and for a certain period did continue, to work on the basis of
the model of disciplinary modernization, but it could not combine modernization
with the new mobility and creativity of labor power, the fundamental conditions
for breathing life into the new paradigm and its complex mechanisms. In the
context of Star Wars, the nuclear arms race, and space exploration, the Soviet
Union may still have been able to keep up with its adversaries from the
technological and military point of view, but the system could not manage to
sustain the competitive conflict on the subjective front. It could not compete,
in other words, precisely where the real power conflicts were being played out,
and it could not face the challenges of the comparative productivity of economic
systems, because advanced technologies of communication and cybernetics are
efficient only when they are rooted in subjectivity, or better, when they are
animated by productive subjectivities. For the Soviet regime, managing the power
of the new subjectivities was a matter of life and death.
According to our thesis, then, after the dramatic final years of Stalin's rule
and Khrushchev's abortive innovations, Brezhnev's regime imposed a freeze on a
productive civil society that had reached a high level of maturity and that,
after the enormous mobilizations for war and productivity, was asking for social
and political recognition. In the capitalist world, the massive cold war
propaganda and the extraordinary ideological machine of falsification and
misinformation prevented us from seeing the real developments in Soviet society
and the political dialectics that unfolded there. Cold war ideology called that
society totalitarian, but in fact it was a society criss-crossed by extremely
strong instances of creativity and freedom, just as strong as the rhythms of
economic development and cultural modernization. The Soviet Union was better
understood not as a totalitarian society but rather as a bureaucratic
dictatorship.[28] And only ifwe leave these distorted definitions behind can we
see how political crisis was produced and reproduced in the Soviet Union, to the
point finally of burying the regime.
Resistance to the bureaucratic dictatorship is what drove the crisis. The Soviet
proletariat's refusal of work was in fact the very same method of struggle that
the proletariat in the capitalist countries deployed, forcing their governments
into a cycle of crisis, reform, and restructuring. This is our point: despite
the delays of development of Russian capitalism, despite the massive losses in
World War II, despite the relative cultural isolation, the relative exclusion
from the world market, the cruel policies of imprisonment, starvation, and
murder of the population, despite all this, and despite their enormous
differences with the dominant capitalist countries, the proletariat in Russia
and the other countries of the Soviet bloc managed by the 1960s and 1970s to
pose the very same problems as the proletariat in the capitalist countries.[29]
Even in Russia and the other countries under Soviet control, the demand for
higher wages and greater freedom grew continuously along with the rhythm of
modernization. And just as in the capitalist countries, there was defined a new
figure of labor power, which now expressed enormous productive capacities on the
basis of a new development of the intellectual powers of production. This new
productive reality, this living intellectual multitude, is what the Soviet
leaders tried to lock in the cages of a disciplinary war economy (a war that was
continually conjured up rhetorically) and corral in the structures of a
socialist ideology of labor and economic development, that is, a socialist
management of capital that no longer made any sense. The Soviet bureaucracy was
not able to construct the armory necessary for the postmodern mobilization of
the new labor power. It was frightened by it, terrorized by the collapse of
disciplinary regimes, by the transformations of the Taylorized and Fordist
subjects that had previously animated production. This was the point where the
crisis became irreversible and, given the immobility of the Brezhnevian
hibernation, catastrophic.
What we find important was not so much the lack of or the offenses against the
individual and formal freedoms of workers, but rather the waste of the
productive energy of a multitude that had exhausted the potential of modernity
and now wanted to be liberated from the socialist management of capitalist
accumulation in order to express a higher level of productivity. This repression
and this energy were the forces that, from opposite sides, made the Soviet world
collapse like a house of cards. Glasnost and perestroika certainly did represent
a self-criticism of Soviet power and posed the necessity of a democratic passage
as the condition for a renewed productivity of the system, but they were
employed too late and too timidly to stop the crisis. The Soviet machine turned
in on itself and ground to a halt, without the fuel that only new productive
subjectivities can produce. The sectors of intellectual and immaterial labor
withdrew their consensus from the regime, and their exodus condemned the system
to death: death from the socialist victory of modernization, death from the
incapacity to use its effects and surpluses, death from a definitive asphyxia
that strangled the subjective conditions which demanded a passage to
postmodernity.
Postmodernism is not something we can settle once and for all and then use with
a clear conscience. The concept, if there is one, has to come at the end, and
not at the beginning, of our discussions of it.
Fredric Jameson
The good news from Washington is that every single person in Congress supports
the concept of an information superhighway. The bad news is that no one has any
idea what that means.
It has now become common to view the succession of economic paradigms since the
Middle Ages in three distinct moments, each defined by the dominant sector of
the economy: a first paradigm in which agriculture and the extraction of raw
materials dominated the economy, a second in which industry and the manufacture
of durable goods occupied the privileged position, and a third and current
paradigm in which providing services and manipulating information are at the
heart of economic production.[1] The dominant position has thus passed from
primary to secondary to tertiary production. Economic modernization involves the
passage from the first paradigm to the second, from the dominance of agriculture
to that of industry. Modernization means industrialization. We might call the
passage from the second paradigm to the third, from the domination of industry
to that of services and information, a process of economic postmodernization, or
better, informatization.
The most obvious definition and index of the shifts among these three paradigms
appear first in quantitative terms, in reference either to the percentage of the
population engaged in each of these productive domains or to the percentage of
the total value produced by the various sectors of production. The changes in
employment statistics in the dominant capitalist countries during the past one
hundred years do indeed indicate dramatic shifts.[2] This quantitative view,
however, can lead to serious misunderstandings of these economic paradigms.
Quantitative indicators cannot grasp either the qualitative transformation in
the progression from one paradigm to another or the hierarchy among the economic
sectors in the context of each paradigm. In the process of modernization and the
passage toward the paradigm of industrial dominance, not only did agricultural
production decline quantitatively (both in percentage of workers employed and in
proportion of the total value produced), but also, more important, agriculture
itself was transformed. When agriculture came under the domination of industry,
even when agriculture was still predominant in quantitative terms, it became
subject to the social and financial pressures of industry, and moreover
agricultural production itself was industrialized. Agriculture, of course, did
not disappear; it remained an essential component of modern industrial
economies, but it was now a transformed, industrialized agriculture.
The discourse of economic development, which was imposed under U.S. hegemony in
coordination with the New Deal model in the postwar period, uses such false
historical analogies as the foundation for economic policies. This discourse
conceives the economic history of all countries as following one single pattern
of development, each at different times and according to different speeds.
Countries whose economic production is not presently at the level of the
dominant countries are thus seen as developing countries, with the idea that if
they continue on the path followed previously by the dominant countries and
repeat their economic policies and strategies, they will eventually enjoy an
analogous position or stage. The developmental view fails to recognize, however,
that the economies of the so-called developed countries are defined not only by
certain quantitative factors or by their internal structures, but also and more
important by their dominant position in the global system.
From these two more or less acceptable historical claims, however, they then
deduce an invalid conclusion: if the developed economies achieved full
articulation in relative isolation and the underdeveloped economies became
disarticulated and dependent through their integration into global networks,
then a project for the relative isolation of the underdeveloped economies will
result in their development and full articulation. In other words, as an
alternative to the "false development" pandered by the economists of the
dominant capitalist countries, the theorists of underdevelopment promoted "real
development," which involves delinking an economy from its dependent
relationships and articulating in relative isolation an autonomous economic
structure. Since this is how the dominant economies developed, it must be the
true path to escape the cycle of underdevelopment. This syllogism, however, asks
us to believe that the laws of economic development will somehow transcend the
differences of historical change.
Informatization
The claim that modernization is over and that the global economy is today
undergoing a process of postmodernization toward an informational economy does
not mean that industrial production will be done away with or even that it will
cease to play an important role, even in the most dominant regions of the globe.
Just as the processes of industrialization transformed agriculture and made it
more productive, so too the informational revolution will transform industry by
redefining and rejuvenating manufacturing processes. The new managerial
imperative operative here is, "Treat manufacturing as a service."[9] In effect,
as industries are transformed, the division between manufacturing and services
is becoming blurred.[10] Just as through the process of modernization all
production tended to become industrialized, so too through the process of
postmodernization all production tends toward the production of services, toward
becoming informationalized.
Not all countries, of course, even among the dominant capitalist countries, have
embarked on the project of postmodernization along the same path. On the basis
of the change of employment statistics in the G-7 countries since 1970, Manuel
Castells and Yuko Aoyama have discerned two basic models or paths of
informatization.[11] Both models involve the increase of employment in
postindustrial services, but they emphasize different kinds of services and
different relations between services and manufacturing. The first path tends
toward a service economy model and is led by the United States, the United
Kingdom, and Canada. This model involves a rapid decline in industrial jobs and
a corresponding rise in servicesector jobs. In particular, the financial
services that manage capital come to dominate the other service sectors. In the
second model, the info-industrial model, typified by Japan and Germany,
industrial employment declines more slowly than it does in the first model, and,
more important, the process of inf ormatization is closely integrated into and
serves to reinforce the strength of existing industrial production. Services
related directly to industrial production thus remain more important in this
model relative to other services. The two models represent two strategies to
manage and gain an advantage in the economic transition, but it should be clear
that they both move resolutely in the direction of the informatization of the
economy and the heightened importance of productive flows and networks. Although
the subordinated countries and regions of the world are not capable of
implementing such strategies, the processes of postmodernization nonetheless
impose irreversible changes on them. The fact that informatization and the shift
toward services have taken place thus far primarily in the dominant capitalist
countries and not elsewhere should not lead us back to an understanding of the
contemporary global economic situation in terms of linear stages of development.
It is true that as industrial production has declined in the dominant countries,
it has been effectively exported to subordinated countries, from the United
States and Japan, for example, to Mexico and Malaysia. Such geographical shifts
and displacements might lead some to believe that there is a new global
organization of economic stages whereby the dominant countries are informational
service economies, their first subordinates are industrial economies, and those
further subordinated are agricultural. From the perspective of stages of
development, for example, one might think that through the contemporary export
of industrial production, an auto factory built by Ford in Brazil in the 1990s
might be comparable to a Ford factory in Detroit in the 1930s because both
instances of production belong to the same industrial stage.
When we look more closely, however, we can see that the two factories are not
comparable, and the differences are extremely important. First of all, the two
factories are radically different in terms of technology and productive
practices. When fixed capital is exported, it is exported generally at its
highest level of productivity. The Ford factory in 1990s Brazil, then, would not
be built with the technology of the Ford factory of 1930s Detroit, but would be
based on the most advanced and most productive computer and informational
technologies available. The technological infrastructure of the factory itself
would locate it squarely within the informational economy. Second, and perhaps
more important, the two factories stand in different relations of dominance with
respect to the global economy as a whole. The Detroit auto factory of the 1930s
stood at the pinnacle of the global economy in the dominant position and
producing the highest value; the 1990s auto factory, whether in Saä Paulo,
Kentucky, or Vladivostok, occupies a subordinate position in the global economy-
subordinated to the highvalue production of services. Today all economic
activity tends to come under the dominance of the informational economy and to
be qualitatively transformed by it. The geographical differences in the global
economy are not signs of the co-presence of different stages of development but
lines of the new global hierarchy of production. It is becoming increasingly
clear from the perspective of subordinated regions that modernization is no
longer the key to economic advancement and competition. The most subordinated
regions, such as areas of sub-Saharan Africa, are effectively excluded from
capital flows and new technologies, and they thus find themselves on the verge
of starvation.[12] Competition for the middle-level positions in the global
hierarchy is conducted not through the industrialization but through the
informatization of production. Large countries with varied economies, such as
India and Brazil, can support simultaneously all levels of productive processes:
information-based production of services, modern industrial production of goods,
and traditional handicraft, agricultural, and mining production. There does not
need to be an orderly historical progression among these forms, but rather they
mix and coexist. All of the forms of production exist within the networks of the
world market and under the domination of the informational production of
services. The transformations of the Italian economy since the 1950s demonstrate
clearly that relatively backward economies do not simply follow the same stages
the dominant regions experience, but evolve through alternative and mixed
patterns. After World War II, Italy was still a predominantly peasant-based
society, but in the 1950s and 1960s it went through furious if incomplete
modernization and industrialization, a first economic miracle. Then, however, in
the 1970s and 1980s, when the processes of industrialization were still not
complete, the Italian economy embarked on another transformation, a process of
postmodernization, and achieved a second economic miracle. These Italian
miracles were not really leaps forward that allowed it to catch up with the
dominant economies; rather, they represented mixtures of different incomplete
economic forms. What is most significant here, and what might usefully pose the
Italian case as the general model for all other backward economies, is that the
Italian economy did not complete one stage (industrialization) before moving on
to another (informatization). According to two contemporary economists, the
recent Italian transformation reveals "an interesting transition from proto-
industrialism to protoinformationalism."[13] Various regions will evolve to have
peasant elements mixed with partial industrialization and partial
informatization. The economic stages are thus all present at once, merged into a
hybrid, composite economy that varies not in kind but in degree across the
globe.
We should note that one consequence of the informatization of production and the
emergence of immaterial labor has been a real homogenization of laboring
processes. From Marx's perspective in the nineteenth century, the concrete
practices of various laboring activities were radically heterogeneous: tailoring
and weaving involved incommensurable concrete actions. Only when abstracted from
their concrete practices could different laboring activities be brought together
and seen in a homogeneous way, no longer as tailoring and weaving but as the
expenditure of human labor power in general, as abstract labor.[20] With the
computerization of production today, however, the heterogeneity of concrete
labor has tended to be reduced, and the worker is increasingly further removed
from the object of his or her labor. The labor of computerized tailoring and the
labor of computerized weaving may involve exactly the same concrete practices-
that is, manipulation of symbols and information. Tools, of course, have always
abstracted labor power from the object of labor to a certain degree. In previous
periods, however, the tools generally were related in a relatively inflexible
way to certain tasks or certain groups of tasks; different tools corresponded to
different activities-the tailor's tools, the weaver's tools, or later a sewing
machine and a power loom. The computer proposes itself, in contrast, as the
universal tool, or rather as the central tool, through which all activities
might pass. Through the computerization of production, then, labor tends toward
the position of abstract labor. The model of the computer, however, can account
for only one face of the communicational and immaterial labor involved in the
production of services. The other face of immaterial labor is the affective
labor of human contact and interaction. Health services, for example, rely
centrally on caring and affective labor, and the entertainment industry is
likewise focused on the creation and manipulation of affect. This labor is
immaterial, even if it is corporeal and affective, in the sense that its
products are intangible, a feeling of ease, well-being, satisfaction,
excitement, or passion. Categories such as "in-person services" or services of
proximity are often used to identify this kind of labor, but what is really
essential to it are the creation and manipulation of affect. Such affective
production, exchange, and communication are generally associated with human
contact, but that contact can be either actual or virtual, as it is in the
entertainment industry.
This second face of immaterial labor, its affective face, extends well beyond
the model of intelligence and communication defined by the computer. Affective
labor is better understood by beginning from what feminist analyses of "women's
work" have called "labor in the bodily mode."[21] Caring labor is certainly
entirely immersed in the corporeal, the somatic, but the affects it produces are
nonetheless immaterial. What affective labor produces are social networks, forms
of community, biopower. Here one might recognize once again that the
instrumental action of economic production has been united with the
communicative action of human relations; in this case, however, communication
has not been impoverished, but production has been enriched to the level of
complexity of human interaction. In short, we can distinguish three types of
immaterial labor that drive the service sector at the top of the informational
economy. The first is involved in an industrial production that has been
informationalized and has incorporated communication technologies in a way that
transforms the production process itself. Manufacturing is regarded as a
service, and the material labor of the production of durable goods mixes with
and tends toward immaterial labor. Second is the immaterial labor of analytical
and symbolic tasks, which itself breaks down into creative and intelligent
manipulation on the one hand and routine symbolic tasks on the other.
We should point out before moving on that in each of these forms of immaterial
labor, cooperation is completely inherent in the labor itself. Immaterial labor
immediately involves social interaction and cooperation. In other words, the
cooperative aspect of immaterial labor is not imposed or organized from the
outside, as it was in previous forms of labor, but rather, cooperation is
completely immanent to the laboring activity itself.[22] This fact calls into
question the old notion (common to classical and Marxian political economics) by
which labor power is conceived as "variable capital," that is, a force that is
activated and made coherent only by capital, because the cooperative powers of
labor power (particularly immaterial labor power) afford labor the possibility
of valorizing itself. Brains and bodies still need others to produce value, but
the others they need are not necessarily provided by capital and its capacities
to orchestrate production. Today productivity, wealth, and the creation of
social surpluses take the form of cooperative interactivity through linguistic,
communicational, and affective networks. In the expression of its own creative
energies, immaterial labor thus seems to provide the potential for a kind of
spontaneous and elementary communism.
Network Production
Information Highways
COMMONS
There has been a continuous movement throughout the modern period to privatize
public property. In Europe the great common lands created with the break-up of
the Roman Empire and the rise of christianity were eventually transferred to
private hands in the course of capitalist primitive accumulation. Throughout the
world what remains of the vast public spaces are now only the stuff of legends:
Robin Hood's forest, the Great Plains of the Amerindians, the steppes of the
nomadic tribes, and so forth. During the consolidation of industrial society,
the construction and destruction of public spaces developed in an ever more
powerful spiral. It is true that when it was dictated by the necessities of
accumulation (in order to foster an acceleration or leap in development, to
concentrate and mobilize the means of production, to make war, and so forth),
public property was expanded by expropriating large sectors of civil society and
transferring wealth and property to the collectivity. That public property,
however, was soon reappropriated in private hands. In each process the communal
possession, which is considered natural, is transformed at public expense into a
second and third nature that functions finally for private profit. A second
nature was created, for example, by damming the great rivers of western North
America and irrigating the dry valleys, and then this new wealth was handed over
to the magnates of agribusiness. Capitalism sets in motion a continuous cycle of
private reappropriation of public goods: the expropriation of what is common.
The rise and fall of the welfare state in the twentieth century is one more
cycle in this spiral of public and private appropriations. The crisis of the
welfare state has meant primarily that the structures of public assistance and
distribution, which were constructed through public funds, are being privatized
and expropriated for private gain. The current neoliberal trend toward the
privatization of energy and communication services is another turn of the
spiral. This consists in granting to private businesses the networks of energy
and communication that were built through enormous expenditures of public
monies. Market regimes and neoliberalism survive off these private
appropriations of second, third, and nth nature. The commons, which once were
considered the basis of the concept of the public, are expropriated for private
use and no one can lift a finger. The public is thus dissolved, privatized, even
as a concept. Or really, the immanent relation between the public and the common
is replaced by the transcendent power of private property.
We do not intend here to weep over the destruction and expropriation that
capitalism continually operates across the world, even though resisting its
force (and in particular resisting the expropriation of the welfare state) is
certainly an eminently ethical and important task. We want to ask, rather, what
is the operative notion of the common today, in the midst of postmodernity, the
information revolution, and the consequent transformations of the mode of
production. It seems to us, in fact, that today we participate in a more radical
and profound commonality than has ever been experienced in the history of
capitalism. The fact is that we participate in a productive world made up of
communication and social networks, interactive services, and common languages.
Our economic and social reality is defined less by the material objects that are
made and consumed than by co-produced services and relationships. Producing
increasingly means constructing cooperation and communicative commonalities.
The concept of private property itself, understood as the exclusive right to use
a good and dispose of all wealth that derives from the possession of it, becomes
increasingly nonsensical in this new situation. There are ever fewer goods that
can be possessed and used exclusively in this framework; it is the community
that produces and that, while producing, is reproduced and redefined. The
foundation of the classic modern conception of private property is thus to a
certain extent dissolved in the postmodern mode of production.
One should object, however, that this new social condition of production has not
at all weakened the juridical and political regimes of private property. The
conceptual crisis of private property does not become a crisis in practice, and
instead the regime of private expropriation has tended to be applied
universally. This objection would be valid if not for the fact that, in the
context of linguistic and cooperative production, labor and the common property
tend to overlap. Private property, despite its juridical powers, cannot help
becoming an ever more abstract and transcendental concept and thus ever more
detached from reality.
A new notion of "commons" will have to emerge on this terrain. Deleuze and
Guattari claim in What Is Philosophy? that in the contemporary era, and in the
context of communicative and interactive production, the construction of
concepts is not only an epistemological operation but equally an ontological
project. Constructing concepts and what they call "common names" is really an
activity that combines the intelligence and the action of the multitude, making
them work together. Constructing concepts means making exist in reality a
project that is a community. There is no other way to construct concepts but to
work in a common way. This commonality is, from the standpoint of the
phenomenology of production, from the standpoint of the epistemology of the
concept, and from the standpoint of practice, a project in which the multitude
is completely invested. The commons is the incarnation, the production, and the
liberation of the multitude. Rousseau said that the first person who wanted a
piece of nature as his or her own exclusive possession and transformed it into
the transcendent form of private property was the one who invented evil. Good,
on the contrary, is what is common.
One of the wonderful things about the information highway is that virtual equity
is far easier to achieve than real-world equity . . . We are all created equal
in the virtual world.
Bill Gates
The paradigm shift of production toward the network model has fostered the
growing power of transnational corporations beyond and above the traditional
boundaries of nation-states. The novelty of this relationship has to be
recognized in terms of the long-standing power struggle between capitalists and
the state. The history of this conflict is easily misunderstood. One should
understand that, most significantly, despite the constant antagonism between
capitalists and the state, the relationship is really conflictive only when
capitalists are considered individually.
Marx and Engels characterize the state as the executive board that manages the
interests of capitalists; by this they mean that although the action of the
state will at times contradict the immediate interests of individual
capitalists, it will always be in the long-term interest of the collective
capitalist, that is, the collective subject of social capital as a whole.[1]
Competition among capitalists, the reasoning goes, however free, does not
guarantee the common good of the collective capitalist, for their immediate
egoistic drive for profit is fundamentally myopic. The state is required for
prudence to mediate the interests of individual capitalists, raising them up in
the collective interest of capital. Capitalists will thus all combat the powers
of the state even while the state is acting in their own collective interests.
This conflict is really a happy, virtuous dialectic from the perspective of
total social capital.
The dialectic between the state and capital has taken on different
configurations in the different phases of capitalist development. A quick and
rough periodization will help us pose at least the most basic features of this
dynamic. In the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, as capitalism established
itself fully in Europe, the state managed the affairs of the total social
capital but required relatively unobtrusive powers of intervention. This period
has come to be viewed in retrospect (with a certain measure of distortion) as
the golden age of European capitalism, characterized by free trade among
relatively small capitalists. Outside the European nationstate in this period,
before the full deployment of powerful colonial administrations, European
capital operated with even fewer constraints. To a large extent the capitalist
companies were sovereign when operating in colonial or precolonial territories,
establishing their own monopoly of force, their own police, their own courts.
The Dutch East India Company, for example, ruled the territories it exploited in
Java until the end of the eighteenth century with its own structures of
sovereignty. Even after the company was dissolved in 1800, capital ruled
relatively free of state mediation or control.[2] The situation was much the
same for the capitalists operating in the British South Asian and African
colonies. The sovereignty of the East India Company lasted until the East India
Act of 1858 brought the company under the rule of the queen, and in southern
Africa the free reign of capitalist adventurers and entrepreneurs lasted at
least until the end of the century.[3] This period was thus characterized by
relatively little need of state intervention at home and abroad: within the
European nation-states individual capitalists were ruled (in their own
collective interest) without great conflict, and in the colonial territories
they were effectively sovereign. The relationship between state and capital
changed gradually in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries when crises
increasingly threatened the development of capital. In Europe and the United
States, corporations, trusts, and cartels grew to establish quasimonopolies over
specific industries and clusters of industries extending far across national
boundaries. The monopoly phase posed a direct threat to the health of capitalism
because it eroded the competition among capitalists that is the lifeblood of the
system.[4] The formation of monopolies and quasi-monopolies also undermined the
managerial capacities of the state, and thus the enormous corporations gained
the power to impose their particular interests over the interest of the
collective capitalist. Consequently there erupted a whole series of struggles in
which the state sought to establish its command over the corporations, passing
antitrust laws, raising taxes and tariffs, and extending state regulation over
industries. In the colonial territories, too, the uncontrolled activities of the
sovereign companies and the adventurer capitalists led increasingly toward
crisis. For example, the 1857 Indian rebellion against the powers of the East
India Company alerted the British government to the disasters the colonial
capitalists were capable of if left uncontrolled. The India Act passed by the
British Parliament the next year was a direct response to the potential for
crisis. The European powers gradually established fully articulated and fully
functioning administrations over the colonial territories, effectively
recuperating colonial economic and social activity securely under the
jurisdiction of the nation-states and thus guaranteeing the interests of total
social capital against crises. Internally and externally, the nation-states were
forced to intervene more strongly to protect the interests of total social
capital against individual capitalists.
Today a third phase of this relationship has fully matured, in which large
transnational corporations have effectively surpassed the jurisdiction and
authority of nation-states. It would seem, then, that this centuries-long
dialectic has come to an end: the state has been defeated and corporations now
rule the earth! In recent years numerous studies have emerged on the Left that
read this phenomenon in apocalyptic terms as endangering humanity at the hands
of unrestrained capitalist corporations and that yearn for the old protective
powers of nation-states.[5] Correspondingly, proponents of capital celebrate a
new era of deregulation and free trade. If this really were the case, however,
if the state really had ceased to manage the affairs of collective capital and
the virtuous dialectic of conflict between state and capital were really over,
then the capitalists ought to be the ones most fearful of the future! Without
the state, social capital has no means to project and realize its collective
interests. The contemporary phase is in fact not adequately characterized by the
victory of capitalist corporations over the state. Although transnational
corporations and global networks of production and circulation have undermined
the powers of nation-states, state functions and constitutional elements have
effectively been displaced to other levels and domains. We need to take a much
more nuanced look at how the relationship between state and capital has changed.
We need to recognize first of all the crisis of political relations in the
national context. As the concept of national sovereignty is losing its
effectiveness, so too is the so-called autonomy of the political.[6] Today a
notion of politics as an independent sphere of the determination of consensus
and a sphere of mediation among conflicting social forces has very little room
to exist. Consensus is determined more significantly by economic factors, such
as the equilibria of the trade balances and speculation on the value of
currencies. Control over these movements is not in the hands of the political
forces that are traditionally conceived as holding sovereignty, and consensus is
determined not through the traditional political mechanisms but by other means.
Government and politics come to be completely integrated into the system of
transnational command. Controls are articulated through a series of
international bodies and functions. This is equally true for the mechanisms of
political mediation, which really function through the categories of
bureaucratic mediation and managerial sociology rather than through the
traditional political categories of the mediation of conflicts and the
reconciliation of class conflict. Politics does not disappear; what disappears
is any notion of the autonomy of the political.
The decline of any autonomous political sphere signals the decline, too, of any
independent space where revolution could emerge in the national political
regime, or where social space could be transformed using the instruments of the
state. The traditional idea of counter-power and the idea of resistance against
modern sovereignty in general thus becomes less and less possible. This
situation resembles in certain respects the one that Machiavelli faced in a
different era: the pathetic and disastrous defeat of "humanistic" revolution or
resistance at the hands of the powers of the sovereign principality, or really
the early modern state. Machiavelli recognized that the actions of individual
heroes (in the style of Plutarch's heroes) were no longer able even to touch the
new sovereignty of the principality. A new type of resistance would have to be
found that would be adequate to the new dimensions of sovereignty. Today, too,
we can see that the traditional forms of resistance, such as the institutional
workers' organizations that developed through the major part of the nineteenth
and twentieth centuries, have begun to lose their power. Once again a new type
of resistance has to be invented.
At first glance and on a level of purely empirical observation, the new world
constitutional framework appears as a disorderly and even chaotic set of
controls and representative organizations. These global constitutional elements
are distributed in a wide spectrum of bodies (in nation-states, in associations
of nation-states, and in international organizations of all kinds); they are
divided by function and content (such as political, monetary, health, and
educational organisms); and they are traversed by a variety of productive
activities. Ifwe look closely, however, this disorderly set does nonetheless
contain some points of reference. More than ordering elements, these are rather
matrixes that delimit relatively coherent horizons in the disorder of global
juridical and political life. When we analyze the configurations of global power
in its various bodies and organizations, we can recognize a pyramidal structure
that is composed of three progressively broader tiers, each of which contains
several levels.
At the narrow pinnacle of the pyramid there is one superpower, the United
States, that holds hegemony over the global use of force-a superpower that can
act alone but prefers to act in collaboration with others under the umbrella of
the United Nations. This singular status was posed definitively with the end of
the cold war and first confirmed in the GulfWar. On a second level, still within
this first tier, as the pyramid broadens slightly, a group of nationstates
control the primary global monetary instruments and thus have the ability to
regulate international exchanges. These nationstates are bound together in a
series of organisms-the G7, the Paris and London Clubs, Davos, and so forth.
Finally, on a third level of this first tier a heterogeneous set of associations
(including more or less the same powers that exercise hegemony on the military
and monetary levels) deploy cultural and biopolitical power on a global level.
Below the first and highest tier of unified global command there is a second
tier in which command is distributed broadly across the world, emphasizing not
so much unification as articulation. This tier is structured primarily by the
networks that transnational capitalist corporations have extended throughout the
world market -networks of capital flows, technology flows, population flows, and
the like. These productive organizations that form and supply the markets extend
transversally under the umbrella and guarantee of the central power that
constitutes the first tier of global power. Ifwe were to take up the old
Enlightenment notion of the construction of the senses by passing a rose in
front of the face of the statue, we could say that the transnational
corporations bring the rigid structure of the central power to life. In effect,
through the global distribution of capitals, technologies, goods, and
populations, the transnational corporations construct vast networks of
communication and provide the satisfaction of needs. The single and univocal
pinnacle of world command is thus articulated by the transnational corporations
and the organization of markets. The world market both homogenizes and
differentiates territories, rewriting the geography of the globe. Still on the
second tier, on a level that is often subordinated to the power of the
transnational corporations, reside the general set of sovereign nation-states
that now consist essentially in local, territorialized organizations. The
nation-states serve various functions: political mediation with respect to the
global hegemonic powers, bargaining with respect to the transnational
corporations, and redistribution of income according to biopolitical needs
within their own limited territories. Nation-states are filters of the flow of
global circulation and regulators of the articulation of global command; in
other words, they capture and distribute the flows of wealth to and from the
global power, and they discipline their own populations as much as this is still
possible.
The third and broadest tier of the pyramid, finally, consists of groups that
represent popular interests in the global power arrangement. The multitude
cannot be incorporated directly into the structures of global power but must be
filtered through mechanisms of representation. Which groups and organizations
fulfill the contestatory and/or legitimating function of popular representation
in the global power structures? Who represents the People in the global
constitution? Or, more important, what forces and processes transform the
multitude into a People that can then be represented in the global constitution?
In many instances nation-states are cast in this role, particularly the
collective of subordinated or minor states. Within the United Nations General
Assembly, for example, collections of subordinate nation-states, the majority
numerically but the minority in terms of power, function as an at least symbolic
constraint on and legitimation of the major powers. In this sense the entire
world is conceived as being represented on the floor of the U.N. General
Assembly and in other global forums. Here, since the nation-states themselves
are presented (both in the more or less democratic countries and in the
authoritarian regimes) as representing the will of their People, the
representation of nation-states on a global scale can only lay claim to the
popular will at two removes, through two levels of representation: the nation-
state representing the People representing the multitude.
Nation-states, however, are certainly not the only organizations that construct
and represent the People in the new global arrangement. Also on this third tier
of the pyramid, the global People is represented more clearly and directly not
by governmental bodies but by a variety of organizations that are at least
relatively independent of nation-states and capital. These organizations are
often understood as functioning as the structures of a global civil society,
channeling the needs and desires of the multitude into forms that can be
represented within the functioning of the global power structures. In this new
global form we can still recognize instances of the traditional components of
civil society, such as the media and religious institutions. The media have long
positioned themselves as the voice or even the conscience of the People in
opposition to the power of states and the private interests of capital. They are
cast as a further check and balance on governmental action, providing an
objective and independent view of all the People want or need to know. It has
long been clear, however, that the media are in fact often not very independent
from capital on the one hand and states on the other.[7] Religious organizations
are an even more long-standing sector of non-governmental institutions that
represent the People. The rise of religious fundamentalisms (both Islamic and
Christian) insofar as they represent the People against the state should perhaps
be understood as components of this new global civil society-but when such
religious organizations stand against the state, they often tend to become the
state themselves. The newest and perhaps most important forces in the global
civil society go under the name of non-governmental organizations (NGOs). The
term NGO has not been given a very rigorous definition, but we would define it
as any organization that purports to represent the People and operate in its
interest, separate from (and often against) the structures of the state. Many in
fact regard NGOs as synonymous with "people's organizations" because the
People's interest is defined in distinction from state interest.[8] These
organizations operate at local, national, and supranational levels. The
termNGOthus groups together an enormous and heterogeneous set of organizations:
in the early 1990s there were reported to be more than eighteen thousand NGOs
worldwide. Some of these organizations fulfill something like the traditional
syndicalist function of trade unions (such as the Self-Employed Women's
Association of ahmedabad, India); others continue the missionary vocation of
religious sects (such as Catholic ReliefServices); and still others seek to
represent populations that are not represented by nationstates (such as the
World Council of Indigenous Peoples). It would be futile to try to characterize
the functioning of this vast and heterogeneous set of organizations under one
single definition.[9] Some critics assert that NGOs, since they are outside and
often in conflict with state power, are compatible with and serve the neoliberal
project of global capital. While global capital attacks the powers of the
nation-state from above, they argue, the NGOs function as a "parallel strategy
'from below'" and present the "community face" of neoliberalism.[10] It may
indeed be true that the activities of many NGOs serve to further the neoliberal
project of global capital, but we should be careful to point out that this
cannot adequately define the activities of all NGOs categorically. The fact of
being non-governmental or even opposed to the powers of nation-states does not
in itself line these organizations up with the interests of capital. There are
many ways to be outside and opposed to the state, of which the neoliberal
project is only one. For our argument, and in the context of Empire, we are most
interested in a subset of NGOs that strive to represent the least among us,
those who cannot represent themselves. These NGOs, which are sometimes
characterized broadly as humanitarian organizations, are in fact the ones that
have come to be among the most powerful and prominent in the contemporary global
order. Their mandate is not really to further the particular interests of any
limited group but rather to represent directly global and universal human
interests. Human rights organizations (such as Amnesty International and
Americas Watch), peace groups (such as Witness of Peace and Shanti Sena), and
the medical and famine relief agencies (such as Oxfam and M‚decins sans
frontiŠres) all defend human life against torture, starvation, massacre,
imprisonment, and political assassination. Their political action rests on a
universal moral call-what is at stake is life itself. In this regard it is
perhaps inaccurate to say that these NGOs represent those who cannot represent
themselves (the warring populations, the starving masses, and so forth) or even
that they represent the global People in its entirety. They go further than
that. What they really represent is the vital force that underlies the People,
and thus they transform politics into a question of generic life, life in all
its generality. These NGOs extend far and wide in the humus of biopower; they
are the capillary ends of the contemporary networks of power, or (to return to
our general metaphor) they are the broad base of the triangle of global power.
Here, at this broadest, most universal level, the activities of these NGOs
coincide with the workings of Empire "beyond politics," on the terrain of
biopower, meeting the needs of life itself.
Ifwe take a step back from the level of empirical description, we can quickly
recognize that the tripartite division of functions and elements that has
emerged allows us to enter directly into the problematic of Empire. In other
words, the contemporary empirical situation resembles the theoretical
description of imperial power as the supreme form of government that Polybius
constructed forRomeand the European tradition handed down to us.[11] For
Polybius, the RomanEmpire represented the pinnacle of political development
because it brought together the three "good" forms of power-monarchy,
aristocracy, and democracy, embodied in the persons of the Emperor, the Senate,
and the popular comitia.TheEmpire prevented these good forms from descending
into the vicious cycle of corruption in which monarchy becomes tyranny,
aristocracy becomes oligarchy, and democracy becomes ochlocracy or anarchy.
We can recognize the ways in which we are close to and distant from the Polybian
model of imperial power by situating ourselves in the genealogy of
interpretations of Polybius in the history of European political thought. The
major line of interpretation comes down to us through Machiavelli and the
Italian Renaissance; it animated the Machiavellian tradition in debates
preceding and following the English Revolution, and finally found its highest
application in the thought of the Founding Fathers and the drafting of the U.S.
Constitution.[12] The key shift to come about in the course of this interpretive
tradition was the transformation of Polybius' classical tripartite model into a
trifunctional model of constitutional construction. In a still medieval, proto-
bourgeois society such as Machiavelli's Florence or even prerevolutionary
England, the Polybian synthesis was conceived as an edifice uniting three
distinct class bodies: to monarchy belonged the union and force, to aristocracy
the land and the army, and to the bourgeoisie the city and money. If the state
were to function properly, every possible conflict among these bodies had to be
resolved in the interest of the totality. In modern political science, however,
from Montesquieu to the Federalists, this synthesis was transformed into a model
that regulated not bodies but functions.[13] Social groups and classes were
themselves considered embodying functions: the executive, the judiciary, and the
representative. These functions were abstracted from the collective social
subjects or classes that enacted them and presented instead as pure juridical
elements. The three functions were then organized in an equilibrium that was
formally the same as the equilibrium that had previously supported the
interclass solution. It was an equilibrium of checks and balances, of weights
and counterweights, that continually managed to reproduce the unity of the state
and the coherence of its parts.[14]
One could even argue that our experience of the constitution (in formation) of
Empire is really the development and coexistence of the "bad" forms of
government rather than the "good" forms, as the tradition pretends. All the
elements of the mixed constitution appear at first sight in fact as through a
distorting lens. Monarchy, rather than grounding the legitimation and
transcendent condition of the unity of power, is presented as a global police
force and thus as a form of tyranny. The transnational aristocracy seems to
prefer financial speculation to entrepreneurial virtue and thus appears as a
parasitical oligarchy. Finally, the democratic forces that in this framework
ought to constitute the active and open element of the imperial machine appear
rather as corporative forces, as a set of superstitions and fundamentalisms,
betraying a spirit that is conservative when not downright reactionary.[15] Both
within the individual states and on the international level, this limited sphere
of imperial "democracy" is configured as a People (an organized particularity
that defends established privileges and properties) rather than as a multitude
(the universality of free and productive practices).
Hybrid Constitution
The Empire that is emerging today, however, is not really a throwback to the
ancient Polybian model, even in its negative, "bad" form. The contemporary
arrangement is better understood in postmodern terms, that is, as an evolution
beyond the modern, liberal model of a mixed constitution. The framework of
juridical formalization, the constitutional mechanism of guarantees, and the
schema of equilibrium are all transformed along two primary axes in the passage
from the modern to the postmodern terrain.
The first axis of transformation involves the nature of the mixture in the
constitution-a passage from the ancient and modern model of a mixtum of separate
bodies or functions to a process of the hybridization of governmental functions
in the current situation. The processes of the real subsumption, of subsuming
labor under capital and absorbing global society within Empire, force the
figures of power to destroy the spatial measure and distance that had defined
their relationships, merging the figures in hybrid forms. This mutation of
spatial relationships transforms the exercise of power itself. First of all,
postmodern imperial monarchy involves rule over the unity of the world market,
and thus it is called on to guarantee the circulation of goods, technologies,
and labor power-to guarantee, in effect, the collective dimension of the market.
The processes of the globalization of monarchic power, however, can make sense
only ifwe consider them in terms of the series of hybridizations that monarchy
operates with the other forms of power. Imperial monarchy is not located in a
separate isolable place-and our postmodern Empire has no Rome. The monarchic
body is itself multiform and spatially diffuse. This process of hybridization is
even more clear with respect to the development of the aristocratic function,
and specifically the development and articulation of productive networks and
markets. In fact, aristocratic functions tend to merge inextricably with
monarchic functions. In the case of postmodern aristocracy, the problem consists
not only in creating a vertical conduit between a center and a periphery for
producing and selling commodities, but also in continuously putting in relation
a wide horizon of producers and consumers within and among markets. This
omnilateral relationship between production and consumption becomes all the more
important when the production of commodities tends to be defined predominantly
by immaterial services embedded in network structures. Here hybridization
becomes a central and conditioning element of the formation of circuits of
production and circulation.[16] Finally, the democratic functions of Empire are
determined within these same monarchic and aristocratic hybridizations, shifting
their relations in certain respects and introducing new relations of force. On
all three levels, what was previously conceived as mixture, which was really the
organic interaction of functions that remained separate and distinct, now tends
toward a hybridization of the functions themselves. We might thus pose this
first axis of transformation as a passage from mixed constitution to hybrid
constitution.
In this imperial non-place, in the hybrid space that the constitutional process
constructs, we still find the continuous and irrepressible presence of
subjective movements. Our problematic remains something like that of the mixed
constitution, but now it is infused with the full intensity of the
displacements, modulations, and hybridizations involved in the passage to
postmodernity. Here the movement from the social to the political and the
juridical that always defines constituent processes begins to take shape; here
the reciprocal relationships between social and political forces that demand a
formal recognition in the constitutional process begin to emerge; and finally,
here the various functions (monarchy, aristocracy, and democracy) measure the
force of the subjectivities that constitute them and attempt to capture segments
of their constituent processes.
There are three key variables that will define this struggle, variables that act
in the realm between the common and the singular, between the axiomatic of
command and the self-identification of the subject, and between the production
of subjectivity by power and the autonomous resistance of the subjects
themselves. The first variable involves the guarantee of the network and its
general control, in such a way that (positively) the network can always function
and (negatively) it cannot function against those in power.[19] The second
variable concerns those who distribute services in the network and the pretense
that these services are remunerated equitably, so that the network can sustain
and reproduce a capitalist economic system and at the same time produce the
social and political segmentation that is proper to it.[20] The third variable,
finally, is presented within the network itself. It deals with the mechanisms by
which differences among subjectivities are produced and with the ways in which
these differences are made to function within the system.
According to these three variables, each subjectivity must become a subject that
is ruled in the general networks of control (in the early modern sense of the
one who is subject [subdictus] to a sovereign power), and at the same time each
must also be an independent agent of production and consumption within networks.
Is this double articulation really possible? Is it possible for the system to
sustain simultaneously political subjection and the subjectivity of the
producer/consumer? It does not really seem so. In effect, the fundamental
condition of the existence of the universal network, which is the central
hypothesis of this constitutional framework, is that it be hybrid, and that is,
for our purposes, that the political subject be fleeting and passive, while the
producing and consuming agent is present and active. This means that, far from
being a simple repetition of a traditional equilibrium, the formation of the new
mixed constitution leads to a fundamental disequilibrium among the established
actors and thus to a new social dynamic that liberates the producing and
consuming subject from (or at least makes ambiguous its position within) the
mechanisms of political subjection. Here is where the primary site of struggle
seems to emerge, on the terrain of the production and regulation of
subjectivity. Is this really the situation that will result from the capitalist
transformation of the mode of production, the cultural developments of
postmodernism, and the processes of political constitution of Empire? We are
certainly not yet in the position to come to that conclusion. We can see,
nonetheless, that in this new situation the strategy of equilibrated and
regulated participation, which the liberal and imperial mixed constitutions have
always followed, is confronted by new difficulties and by the strong expression
of autonomy by the individual and collective productive subjectivities involved
in the process. On the terrain of the production and regulation of subjectivity,
and in the disjunction between the political subject and the economic subject,
it seems that we can identify a real field of struggle in which all the gambits
of the constitution and the equilibria among forces can be reopened-a true and
proper situation of crisis and maybe eventually of revolution.
The open field of struggle that seems to appear from this analysis, however,
quickly disappears when we consider the new mechanisms by which these hybrid
networks of participation are manipulated from above.[21] In effect, the glue
that holds together the diverse functions and bodies of the hybrid constitution
is what Guy Debord called the spectacle, an integrated and diffuse apparatus of
images and ideas that produces and regulates public discourse and opinion.[22]
In the society of the spectacle, what was once imagined as the public sphere,
the open terrain of political exchange and participation, completely evaporates.
The spectacle destroys any collective form of sociality-individualizing social
actors in their separate automobiles and in front of separate video screens-and
at the same time imposes a new mass sociality, a new uniformity of action and
thought. On this spectacular terrain, traditional forms of struggle over the
constitution become inconceivable.
The common conception that the media (and television in particular) have
destroyed politics is false only to the extent that it seems based on an
idealized notion of what democratic political discourse, exchange, and
participation consisted of in the era prior to this media age. The difference of
the contemporary manipulation of politics by the media is not really a
difference of nature but a difference of degree. In other words, there have
certainly existed previously numerous mechanisms for shaping public opinion and
public perception of society, but contemporary media provide enormously more
powerful instruments for these tasks. As Debord says, in the society of the
spectacle only what appears exists, and the major media have something
approaching a monopoly over what appears to the general population. This law of
the spectacle clearly reigns in the realm of media-driven electoral politics, an
art of manipulation perhaps developed first in the United States but now spread
throughout the world. The discourse of electoral seasons focuses almost
exclusively on how candidates appear, on the timing and circulation of images.
The major media networks conduct a sort of second-order spectacle that reflects
on (and undoubtedly shapes in part) the spectacle mounted by the candidates and
their political parties. Even the old calls for a focus less on image and more
on issues and substance in political campaigns that we heard not so long ago
seem hopelessly naive today. Similarly, the notions that politicians function as
celebrities and that political campaigns operate on the logic of advertising-
hypotheses that seemed radical and scandalous thirty years ago-are today taken
for granted. Political discourse is an articulated sales pitch, and political
participation is reduced to selecting among consumable images.
When we say that the spectacle involves the media manipulation of public opinion
and political action, we do not mean to suggest that there is a little man
behind the curtain, a great Wizard of Oz who controls all that is seen, thought,
and done. There is no single locus of control that dictates the spectacle. The
spectacle, however, generally functions as if there were such a point of central
control. As Debord says, the spectacle is both diffuse and integrated.
Conspiracy theories of governmental and extragovernmental plots of global
control, which have certainly proliferated in recent decades, should thus be
recognized as both true and false. As Fredric Jameson explains wonderfully in
the context of contemporary film, conspiracy theories are a crude but effective
mechanism for approximating the functioning of the totality.[23] The spectacle
of politics functions as if the media, the military, the government, the
transnational corporations, the global financial institutions, and so forth were
all consciously and explicitly directed by a single power even though in reality
they are not.
The spectacle of fear that holds together the postmodern, hybrid constitution
and the media manipulation of the public and politics certainly takes the ground
away from a struggle over the imperial constitution. It seems as if there is no
place left to stand, no weight to any possible resistance, but only an
implacable machine of power. It is important to recognize the power of the
spectacle and the impossibility of traditional forms of struggle, but this is
not the end of the story. As the old sites and forms of struggle decline, new
and more powerful ones arise. The spectacle of imperial order is not an ironclad
world, but actually opens up the real possibility of its overturning and new
potentials for revolution.
This is the abolition of the capitalist mode of production within the capitalist
mode of production itself, and hence a self-abolishing contradiction, which
presents itself prima facie as a mere point of transition to a new form of
production.
Karl Marx
Capital, on the contrary, operates on the plane of immanence, through relays and
networks of relationships of domination, without reliance on a transcendent
center of power. It tends historically to destroy traditional social boundaries,
expanding across territories and enveloping always new populations within its
processes. Capital functions, according to the terminology of Deleuze and
Guattari, through a generalized decoding of fluxes, a massive
deterritorialization, and then through conjunctions of these deterritorialized
and decoded fluxes.[1] We can understand the functioning of capital as
deterritorializing and immanent in three primary aspects that Marx himself
analyzed. First, in the processes of primitive accumulation, capital separates
populations from specifically coded territories and sets them in motion. It
clears the Estates and creates a "free" proletariat. Traditional cultures and
social organizations are destroyed in capital's tireless march through the world
to create the networks and pathways of a single cultural and economic system of
production and circulation. Second, capital brings all forms of value together
on one common plane and links them all through money, their general equivalent.
Capital tends to reduce all previously established forms of status, title, and
privilege to the level of the cash nexus, that is, to quantitative and
commensurable economic terms. Third, the laws by which capital functions are not
separate and fixed laws that stand above and direct capital's operations from on
high, but historically variable laws that are immanent to the very functioning
of capital: the laws of the rate of profit, the rate of exploitation, the
realization of surplus value, and so forth.
Civil society served for one historical period as mediator between the immanent
forces of capital and the transcendent power of modern sovereignty. Hegel
adopted the term "civil society" from his reading of British economists, and he
understood it as a mediation between the self-interested endeavors of a
plurality of economic individuals and the unified interest of the state. Civil
society mediates between the (immanent) Many and the (transcendent) One. The
institutions that constitute civil society functioned as passageways that
channel flows of social and economic forces, raising them up toward a coherent
unity and, flowing back, like an irrigation network, distribute the command of
the unity throughout the immanent social field. These non-state institutions, in
other words, organized capitalist society under the order of the state and in
turn spread state rule throughout society. In the terms of our conceptual
framework, we might say that civil society was the terrain of the becoming-
immanent of modern state sovereignty (down to capitalist society) and at the
same time inversely the becoming-transcendent of capitalist society (up to the
state).
In our times, however, civil society no longer serves as the adequate point of
mediation between capital and sovereignty. The structures and institutions that
constitute it are today progressively withering away. We have argued elsewhere
that this withering can be grasped clearly in terms of the decline of the
dialectic between the capitalist state and labor, that is, in the decline of the
effectiveness and role of labor unions, the decline of collective bargaining
with labor, and the decline of the representation of labor in the
constitution.[6] The withering of civil society might also be recognized as
concomitant with the passage from disciplinary society to the society of control
(see Section 2.6). Today the social institutions that constitute disciplinary
society (the school, the family, the hospital, the factory), which are in large
part the same as or closely related to those understood as civil society, are
everywhere in crisis. As the walls of these institutions break down, the logics
of subjectification that previously operated within their limited spaces now
spread out, generalized across the social field. The breakdown of the
institutions, the withering of civil society, and the decline of disciplinary
society all involve a smoothing of the striation of modern social space. Here
arise the networks of the society of control.[7] With respect to disciplinary
society and civil society, the society of control marks a step toward the plane
of immanence. The disciplinary institutions, the boundaries of the effectivity
of their logics, and their striation of social space all constitute instances of
verticality or transcendence over the social plane. We should be careful,
however, to locate where exactly this transcendence of disciplinary society
resides. Foucault was insistent on the fact, and this was the brilliant core of
his analysis, that the exercise of discipline is absolutely immanent to the
subjectivities under its command. In other words, discipline is not an external
voice that dictates our practices from on high, overarching us, as Hobbes would
say, but rather something like an inner compulsion indistinguishable from our
will, immanent to and inseparable from our subjectivity itself. The institutions
that are the condition of possibility and that define spatially the zones of
effectivity of the exercise of discipline, however, do maintain a certain
separation from the social forces produced and organized. They are in effect an
instance of sovereignty, or rather a point of mediation with sovereignty. The
walls of the prison both enable and limit the exercise of carceral logics. They
differentiate social space.
Today the collapse of the walls that delimited the institutions and the
smoothing of social striation are symptoms of the flattening of these vertical
instances toward the horizontality of the circuits of control. The passage to
the society of control does not in any way mean the end of discipline. In fact,
the immanent exercise of discipline-that is, the self-disciplining of subjects,
the incessant whisperings of disciplinary logics within subjectivities
themselves -is extended even more generally in the society of control.
What has changed is that, along with the collapse of the institutions, the
disciplinary dispositifs have become less limited and bounded spatially in the
social field. Carceral discipline, school discipline, factory discipline, and so
forth interweave in a hybrid production of subjectivity. In effect, in the
passage to the society of control, the elements of transcendence of disciplinary
society decline while the immanent aspects are accentuated and generalized.
A Smooth World
Many argued, beginning at least as early as the 1970s, that the Third World
never really existed, in the sense that the conception attempts to pose as a
homogeneous unit an essentially diverse set of nations, failing to grasp and
even negating the significant social, economic, and cultural differences between
Paraguay and Pakistan, Morocco and Mozambique. Recognizing this real
multiplicity, however, should not blind us to the fact that, from the point of
view of capital in its march of global conquest, such a unitary and homogenizing
conception did have a certain validity. For example, Rosa Luxemburg clearly
takes the standpoint of capital when she divides the world into the capitalist
domain and the noncapitalist environment. The various zones of that environment
are undoubtedly radically different from one another, but from the standpoint of
capital it is all the outside: potential terrain for its expanded accumulation
and its future conquest. During the cold war, when the regions of the Second
World were effectively closed, Third World meant to the dominant capitalist
nations the remaining open space, the terrain of possibility. The diverse
cultural, social, and economic forms could all potentially be subsumed formally
under the dynamic of capitalist production and the capitalist markets. From the
standpoint of this potential subsumption, despite the real and substantial
differences among nations, the Third World was really one.
It is similarly logical when Samir Amin, Immanuel Wallerstein, and others
differentiate within the capitalist domain among central, peripheral, and semi-
peripheral countries.[11] Center, periphery, and semi-periphery are
distinguished by different social, political, and bureaucratic forms, different
productive processes, and different forms of accumulation. (The more recent
conceptual division between North and South is not significantly different in
this regard.) Like the First-Second-Third World conception, the division of the
capitalist sphere into center, periphery, and semi-periphery homogenizes and
eclipses real differences among nations and cultures, but does so in the
interest of highlighting a tendential unity of political, social, and economic
forms that emerge in the long imperialist processes of formal subsumption. In
other words, Third World, South, and periphery all homogenize real differences
to highlight the unifying processes of capitalist development, but also and more
important, they name the potential unity of an international opposition, the
potential confluence of anticapitalist countries and forces. The geographical
divisions among nation-states or even between central and peripheral, northern
and southern clusters of nation-states are no longer sufficient to grasp the
global divisions and distribution of production, accumulation, and social forms.
Some may protest, with a certain justification, that the dominant voices of the
global order are proclaiming the nation-state dead just when "the nation" has
emerged as a revolutionary weapon for the subordinated, for the wretched of the
earth. After the victory of national liberation struggles and after the
emergence of potentially destabilizing international alliances, which matured
for decades after the Bandung Conference, what better way to undermine the power
of Third World nationalism and internationalism than to deprive it of its
central and guiding support, the nation-state! In other words, according to this
view, which provides at least one plausible narrative for this complex history,
the nation-state, which had been the guarantor of international order and the
keystone to imperialist conquest and sovereignty, became through the rise and
organization of anti-imperialist forces the element that most endangered the
international order. Thus imperialism in retreat was forced to abandon and
destroy the prize of its own armory before the weapon could be wielded against
it.
We believe, however, that it is a grave mistake to harbor any nostalgia for the
powers of the nation-state or to resurrect any politics that celebrates the
nation. First of all, these efforts are in vain because the decline of the
nation-state is not simply the result of an ideological position that might be
reversed by an act of political will: it is a structural and irreversible
process. The nation was not only a cultural formulation, a feeling of belonging,
and a shared heritage, but also and perhaps primarily a juridico-economic
structure. The declining effectiveness of this structure can be traced clearly
through the evolution of a whole series of global juridicoeconomic bodies, such
as GATT, the World Trade Organization, the World Bank, and the IMF. The
globalization of production and circulation, supported by this supranational
juridical scaffolding, supersedes the effectiveness of national juridical
structures. Second, and more important, even if the nation were still to be an
effective weapon, the nation carries with it a whole series of repressive
structures and ideologies (as we argued in Section 2.2), and any strategy that
relies on it should be rejected on that basis.
Financial and monetary flows follow more or less the same global patterns as the
flexible organization of labor power. On the one hand, speculative and finance
capital goes where the price of labor power is lowest and where the
administrative force to guarantee exploitation is highest. On the other hand,
the countries that still maintain the rigidities of labor and oppose its full
flexibility and mobility are punished, tormented, and finally destroyed by
global monetary mechanisms. The stock market drops when the unemployment rate
goes down, or really when the percentage of workers who are not immediately
flexible and mobile rises. The same happens when the social policies in a
country do not completely accommodate the imperial mandate of flexibility and
mobility -or better, when some elements of the welfare state are preserved as a
sign of the persistence of the nation-state. Monetary policies enforce the
segmentations dictated by labor policies.
Fear of violence, poverty, and unemployment is in the end the primary and
immediate force that creates and maintains these new segmentations. What stands
behind the various politics of the new segmentations is a politics of
communication. As we argued earlier, the fundamental content of the information
that the enormous communication corporations present is fear. The constant fear
of poverty and anxiety over the future are the keys to creating a struggle among
the poor for work and maintaining conflict among the imperial proletariat. Fear
is the ultimate guarantee of the new segmentations.
Imperial Administration
After we have seen how traditional social barriers are lowered in the formation
of Empire and how at the same time new segmentations are created, we must also
investigate the administrative modalities through which these various
developments unfold. It is easy to see that these processes are full of
contradictions. When power is made immanent and sovereignty transforms into
governmentality, the functions of rule and regimes of control have to develop on
a continuum that flattens differences to a common plane. We have seen, however,
that differences are, on the contrary, accentuated in this process, in such a
way that imperial integration determines new mechanisms of the separation and
segmentation of dif ferent strata of the population. The problem of imperial
administration is thus to manage this process of integration and therefore to
pacify, mobilize, and control the separated and segmented social forces. In
these terms, however, the problem is still not clearly posed. The segmentation
of the multitude has in fact been the condition of political administration
throughout history. The difference today lies in the fact that, whereas in
modern regimes of national sovereignty, administration worked toward a linear
integration of conflicts and toward a coherent apparatus that could repress
them, that is, toward the rational normalization of social life with respect to
both the administrative goal of equilibrium and the development of
administrative reforms, in the imperial framework administration becomes fractal
and aims to integrate conflicts not by imposing a coherent social apparatus but
by controlling differences. It is no longer possible to understand imperial
administration in the terms of a Hegelian definition of administration, which is
grounded on the mediations of bourgeois society that constitute the spatial
center of social life; but it is equally impossible to understand it according
to a Weberian definition, that is, a rational definition that is based on
continuous temporal mediation and an emerging principle of legitimacy. A first
principle that defines imperial administration is that in it the management of
political ends tends to be separate from the management of bureaucratic means.
The new paradigm is thus not only different from but opposed to the old public
administration model of the modern state, which continually strove to coordinate
its system of bureaucratic means with its political ends. In the imperial
regime, bureaucracies (and administrative means in general) are considered not
according to the linear logics of their functionality to goals, but according to
differential and multiple instrumental logics. The problem of administration is
not a problem of unity but one of instrumental multifunctionality. Whereas for
the legitimation and administration of the modern state the universality and
equality of administrative actions were paramount, in the imperial regime what
is fundamental is the singularity and adequacy of the actions to specific ends.
From this first principle, however, there arises what seems to be a paradox.
Precisely to the extent that administration is singularized and no longer
functions simply as the actor for centralized political and deliberative organs,
it becomes increasingly autonomous and engages more closely with various social
groups: business and labor groups, ethnic and religious groups, legal and
criminal groups, and so forth. Instead of contributing to social integration,
imperial administration acts rather as a disseminating and differentiating
mechanism. This is the second principle of imperial administration.
Administration will thus tend to present specific procedures that allow the
regime to engage directly with the various social singularities, and the
administration will be more effective the more direct its contact with the
different elements of social reality. Hence administrative action becomes
increasingly autocentric and thus functional only to the specific problems that
it has to resolve. It becomes more and more difficult to recognize a continuous
line of administrative action across the set of relays and networks of the
imperial regime. In short, the old administrative principle of universality,
treating all equally, is replaced by the differentiation and singularization of
procedures, treating each differently.
Local autonomy is a fundamental condition, the sine qua non of the development
of the imperial regime. In fact, given the mobility of populations in Empire, it
would not be possible to claim a principle of legitimate administration if its
autonomy did not also march a nomad path with the populations. It would likewise
be impossible to order the segments of the multitude through processes that
force it to be more mobile and flexible in hybrid cultural forms and in
multicolored ghettos ifthis administration were not equally flexible and capable
of specific and continuous procedural revisions and differentiations. Consent to
the imperial regime is not something that descends from the transcendentals of
good administration, which were defined in the modern rights states. Consent,
rather, is formed through the local effectiveness of the regime.
We have sketched here only the most general outlines of imperial administration.
A definition of imperial administration that focuses only on the autonomous
local effectiveness of administrative action cannot in itself guarantee the
system against eventual threats, riots, subversions, and insurrections, or even
against the normal conflicts among local segments of the administration. This
argument, however, does manage to transform the discussion into one about the
"royal prerogatives" of imperial government-once we have established the
principle that the regulation of conflict and the recourse to the exercise of
legitimate violence must be resolved in terms of self-regulation (of production,
money, and communication) and by the internal police forces of Empire. This is
where the question of administration is transformed into a question of command.
Imperial Command
The guarantee that Empire offers to globalized capital does not involve a
micropolitical and/or microadministrative management of populations. The
apparatus of command has no access to the local spaces and the determinate
temporal sequences of life where the administration functions; it does not
manage to put its hands on the singularities and their activity. What imperial
command seeks substantially to invest and protect, and what it guarantees for
capitalist development, are rather the general equilibria of the global system.
Imperial control operates through three global and absolute means: the bomb,
money, and ether. The panoply of thermonuclear weapons, effectively gathered at
the pinnacle of Empire, represents the continuous possibility of the destruction
of life itself. This is an operation of absolute violence, a new metaphysical
horizon, which completely changes the conception whereby the sovereign state had
a monopoly of legitimate physical force. At one time, in modernity, this
monopoly was legitimated either as the expropriation of weapons from the violent
and anarchic mob, the disordered mass of individuals who tend to slaughter one
another, or as the instrument of def ense against the enemy, that is, against
other peoples organized in states. Both these means of legitimation were
oriented finally toward the survival of the population. Today they are no longer
effective. The expropriation of the means of violence from a supposedly self-
destructive population tends to become merely administrative and police
operations aimed at maintaining the segmentations of productive territories. The
second justification becomes less effective too as nuclear war between state
powers becomes increasingly unthinkable. The development of nuclear technologies
and their imperial concentration have limited the sovereignty of most of the
countries of the world insofar as it has taken away from them the power to make
decisions over war and peace, which is a primary element of the traditional
definition of sovereignty. Furthermore, the ultimate threat of the imperial bomb
has reduced every war to a limited conflict, a civil war, a dirty war, and so
forth. It has made every war the exclusive domain of administrative and police
power. From no other standpoint is the passage from modernity to postmodernity
and from modern sovereignty to Empire more evident than it is from the
standpoint of the bomb. Empire is defined here in the final instance as the
"non-place" of life, or, in other words, as the absolute capacity for
destruction. Empire is the ultimate form of biopower insofar as it is the
absolute inversion of the power of life.
Money is the second global means of absolute control. The construction of the
world market has consisted first of all in the monetary deconstruction of
national markets, the dissolution of national and/or regional regimes of
monetary regulation, and the subordination of those markets to the needs of
financial powers. As national monetary structures tend to lose any
characteristics of sovereignty, we can see emerging through them the shadows of
a new unilateral monetary reterritorialization that is concentrated at the
political and financial centers of Empire, the global cities. This is not the
construction of a universal monetary regime on the basis of new productive
localities, new local circuits of circulation, and thus new values; instead, it
is a monetary construction based purely on the political necessities of Empire.
Money is the imperial arbiter, but just as in the case of the imperial nuclear
threat, this arbiter has neither a determinate location nor a transcendent
status. Just as the nuclear threat authorizes the generalized power of the
police, so too the monetary arbiter is continually articulated in relation to
the productive functions, measures of value, and allocations of wealth that
constitute the world market. Monetary mechanisms are the primary means to
control the market.[13]
Ether is the third and final fundamental medium of imperial control. The
management of communication, the structuring of the education system, and the
regulation of culture appear today more than ever as sovereign prerogatives. All
of this, however, dissolves in the ether. The contemporary systems of
communication are not subordinated to sovereignty; on the contrary, sovereignty
seems to be subordinated to communication-or actually, sovereignty is
articulated through communications systems. In the field of communication, the
paradoxes that bring about the dissolution ofterritorial and/or national
sovereignty are more clear than ever. The deterritorializing capacities of
communication are unique: communication is not satisfied by limiting or
weakening modern territorial sovereignty; rather it attacks the very possibility
of linking an order to a space. It imposes a continuous and complete circulation
of signs. Deterritorialization is the primary force and circulation the form
through which social communication manifests itself. In this way and in this
ether, languages become functional to circulation and dissolve every sovereign
relationship. Education and culture too cannot help submitting to the
circulating society of the spectacle. Here we reach an extreme limit of the
process of the dissolution of the relationship between order and space. At this
point we cannot conceive this relationship except in another space, an elsewhere
that cannot in principle be contained in the articulation of sovereign acts. The
space of communication is completely deterritorialized. It is absolutely other
with respect to the residual spaces that we have been analyzing in terms of the
monopoly of physical force and the definition of monetary measure. Here it is a
question not of residue but of metamorphosis: a metamorphosis of all the
elements of political economy and state theory. Communication is the form of
capitalist production in which capital has succeeded in submitting society
entirely and globally to its regime, suppressing all alternative paths. Ifever
an alternative is to be proposed, it will have to arise from within the society
of the real subsumption and demonstrate all the contradictions at the heart of
it.
These three means of control refer us again to the three tiers of the imperial
pyramid of power. The bomb is a monarchic power, money aristocratic, and ether
democratic. It might appear in each of these cases as though the reins of these
mechanisms were held by the United States. It might appear as if the United
States were the new Rome, or a cluster of new Romes: Washington (the bomb), New
York (money), and Los Angeles (ether). Any such territorial conception of
imperial space, however, is continually destabilized by the fundamental
flexibility, mobility, and deterritorialization at the core of the imperial
apparatus. Perhaps the monopoly of force and the regulation of money can be
given partial territorial determinations, but communication cannot.
Communication has become the central element that establishes the relations of
production, guiding capitalist development and also transforming productive
forces. This dynamic produces an extremely open situation: here the centralized
locus of power has to confront the power of productive subjectivities, the power
of all those who contribute to the interactive production of communication. Here
in this circulating domain of imperial domination over the new forms of
production, communication is most widely disseminated in capillary forms.
When the proponents of the globalization of capital cry out against big
government, they are being not only hypocritical but also ungrateful. Where
would capital be if it had not put its hands on big government and made it work
for centuries in its exclusive interest? And today where would imperial capital
be if big government were not big enough to wield the power of life and death
over the entire global multitude? Where would capital be without a big
government capable of printing money to produce and reproduce a global order
that guarantees capitalist power and wealth? Or without the communications
networks that expropriate the cooperation of the productive multitude? Every
morning when they wake up, capitalists and their representatives across the
world, instead of reading the curses against big government in the Wall Street
Journal, ought to get down on their knees and praise it! Now that the most
radical conservative opponents of big government have collapsed under the weight
of the paradox of their position, we want to pick up their banners where they
left them in the mud. It is our turn now to cry "Big government is over!" Why
should that slogan be the exclusive property of the conservatives? Certainly,
having been educated in class struggle, we know well that big government has
also been an instrument for the redistribution of social wealth and that, under
the pressure of workingclass struggle, it has served in the fight for equality
and democracy. Today, however, those times are over. In imperial postmodernity
big government has become merely the despotic means of domination and the
totalitarian production of subjectivity. Big government conducts the great
orchestra of subjectivities reduced to commodities. And it is consequently the
determination of the limits of desire: these are in fact the lines that, in the
biopolitical Empire, establish the new division of labor across the global
horizon, in the interest of reproducing the power to exploit and subjugate. We,
on the contrary, struggle because desire has no limit and (since the desire to
exist and the desire to produce are one and the same thing) because life can be
continuously, freely, and equally enjoyed and reproduced.
Some might object that the productive biopolitical universe still requires some
form of command over it, and that realistically we should aim not at destroying
big government but at putting our hands on its controls. We have to put an end
to such illusions that have plagued the socialist and communist traditions for
so long! On the contrary, from the standpoint of the multitude and its quest for
autonomous self-government, we have to put an end to the continuous repetition
of the same that Marx lamented 150 years ago when he said that all revolutions
have only perfected the state instead of destroying it. That repetition has only
become clearer in our century, when the great compromise (in its liberal,
socialist, and fascist forms) among big government, big business, and big labor
has forced the state to produce horrible new fruits: concentration camps,
gulags, ghettos, and the like.
You are just a bunch of anarchists, the new Plato on the block will finally yell
at us. That is not true. We would be anarchists if we were not to speak (as did
Thrasymacus and Callicles, Plato's immortal interlocutors) from the standpoint
of a materiality constituted in the networks of productive cooperation, in other
words, from the perspective of a humanity that is constructed productively, that
is constituted through the "common name" of freedom. No, we are not anarchists
but communists who have seen how much repression and destruction of humanity
have been wrought by liberal and socialist big governments. We have seen how all
this is being re-created in imperial government, just when the circuits of
productive cooperation have made labor power as a whole capable of constituting
itself in government.
4.1 - VIRTUALITIES
The people no longer exist, or not yet . . . the people are missing.
Gilles Deleuze
In the course of our argument we have generally dealt with Empire in terms of a
critique of what is and what exists, and thus in ontological terms. At times,
however, in order to reinforce the argumentation, we have addressed the
problematic of Empire with an ethico-political discourse, calculating the
mechanics of passions and interests-for example, when early in our argument we
judged Empire as less bad or better than the previous paradigm of power from the
standpoint of the multitude. English political theory in the period from Hobbes
to Hume presents perhaps the paradigmatic example of such an ethico-political
discourse, which began from a pessimistic description of presocial human nature
and attempted through reliance on a transcendental notion of power to establish
the legitimacy of the state. The (more or less liberal) Leviathan is less bad
with respect to the war of all against all, better because it establishes and
preserves peace.[1] This style of political theorizing, however, is no longer
very useful. It pretends that the subject can be understood presocially and
outside the community, and then imposes a kind of transcendental socialization
on it. In Empire, no subjectivity is outside, and all places have been subsumed
in a general "non-place." The transcendental fiction of politics can no longer
stand up and has no argumentative utility because we all exist entirely within
the realm of the social and the political. When we recognize this radical
determination of postmodernity, political philosophy forces us to enter the
terrain of ontology.
When we say that political theory must deal with ontology, we mean first of all
that politics cannot be constructed from the outside. Politics is given
immediately; it is a field of pure immanence. Empire forms on this superficial
horizon where our bodies and minds are embedded. It is purely positive. There is
no external logical machine that constitutes it. The most natural thing in the
world is that the world appears to be politically united, that the market is
global, and that power is organized throughout this universality. Imperial
politics articulates being in its global extension-a great sea that only the
winds and current move. The neutralization of the transcendental imagination is
thus the first sense in which the political in the imperial domain is
ontological.[2]
The political must also be understood as ontological owing to the fact that all
the transcendental determinations of value and measure that used to order the
deployments of power (or really determine its prices, subdivisions, and
hierarchies) have lost their coherence. From the sacred myths of power that
historical anthropologists such as RudolfOtto and Georges Dumezil employed to
the rules of the new political science that the authors of The Federalist
described; from the Rights of Man to the norms of international public law-all
of this fades away with the passage to Empire. Empire dictates its laws and
maintains the peace according to a model of postmodern right and postmodern law,
through mobile, fluid, and localized procedures.[3] Empire constitutes the
ontological fabric in which all the relations of power are woven together-
political and economic relations as well as social and personal relations.
Across this hybrid domain the biopolitical structure of being is where the
internal structure of imperial constitution is revealed, because in the
globality of biopower every fixed measure of value tends to be dissolved, and
the imperial horizon of power is revealed finally to be a horizon outside
measure. Not only the political transcendental but also the transcendental as
such has ceased to determine measure.
The great Western metaphysical tradition has always abhorred the immeasurable.
From Aristotle's theory of virtue as measure[4] to Hegel's theory of measure as
the key to the passage from existence to essence,[5] the question of measure has
been strictly linked to that of transcendent order. Even Marx's theory of value
pays its dues to this metaphysical tradition: his theory of value is really a
theory of the measure of value.[6] Only on the ontological horizon of Empire,
however, is the world finally outside measure, and here we can see clearly the
deep hatred that metaphysics has for the immeasurable. It derives from the
ideological necessity to given a transcendent ontological foundation to order.
Just as God is necessary for the classical transcendence of power, so too
measure is necessary for the transcendent foundation of the values of the modern
state. If there is no measure, the metaphysicians say, there is no cosmos; and
if there is no cosmos, there is no state. In this framework one cannot think the
immeasurable, or rather, one must not think it. Throughout modernity, the
immeasurable was the object of an absolute ban, an epistemological prohibition.
This metaphysical illusion disappears today, however, because in the context of
biopolitical ontology and its becomings, the transcendent is what is
unthinkable. When political transcendence is still claimed today, it descends
immediately into tyranny and barbarism.
Even if the political has become a realm outside measure, value nonetheless
remains. Even ifin postmodern capitalism there is no longer a fixed scale that
measures value, value nonetheless is still powerful and ubiquitous. This fact is
demonstrated first of all by the persistence of exploitation, and second by the
fact that productive innovation and the creation of wealth continue tirelessly-
in fact, they mobilize labor in every interstice of the world. In Empire, the
construction of value takes place beyond measure. The contrast between the
immeasurable excesses of imperial globalization and the productive activity that
is beyond measure must be read from the standpoint of the subjective activity
that creates and re-creates the world in its entirety.
Parasite
One might object at this point that, despite the powers of the multitude, this
Empire still exists and commands. We ourselves have amply described its
functioning and highlighted its extreme violence. With respect to the virtuality
of the multitude, however, imperial government appears as an empty shell or a
parasite.[12] Does this mean that the investments of power that Empire
continuously makes in order to maintain imperial order and the powerlessness of
the multitude really are ineffective? If this were the case, then the
argumentation we have been developing up to this point about the extrinsic
character of imperial government with respect to the ontological developments of
the multitude would be contradictory. The gap between virtuality and possibility
that we think can be bridged from the standpoint of the action of the multitude
is effectively held open by imperial domination. The two forces seem to stand in
contradiction.
We do not, however, think that this is really a contradiction. Only in formal
logic is contradiction static; contradiction is never static, however, in
material logic (that is, political, historical, and ontological logic), which
poses it on the terrain of the possible and thus on the terrain of power.
Indeed, the relationship that imperial government imposes on the virtuality of
the multitude is simply a static relationship of oppression. The investments of
imperial government are essentially negative, deployed through procedures
intended to order coercively the actions and events that risk descending into
disorder. In all cases the effectiveness of imperial government is regulatory
and not constituent, not even when its effects are long-lasting. The
redundancies of imperial command configure at most the chronicle that records
political life, or really the most feeble and repetitive image of the
determinations of being. The royal prerogatives of imperial government, its
monopoly over the bomb, money, and the communicative ether, are merely
destructive capacities and thus powers of negation. The action of imperial
government intervenes in the multitude's project to suture together virtuality
and possibility only by disrupting it and slowing it down. In this respect
Empire does touch on the course of historical movement, but it cannot for that
reason be defined as a positive capacity-on the contrary, the legitimacy of its
command is only increasingly undermined by these movements.
When the action of Empire is effective, this is due not to its own force but to
the fact that it is driven by the rebound from the resistance of the multitude
against imperial power. One might say in this sense that resistance is actually
prior to power.[13] When imperial government intervenes, it selects the
liberatory impulses of the multitude in order to destroy them, and in return it
is driven forward by resistance. The royal investments of Empire and all its
political initiatives are constructed according to the rhythm of the acts of
resistance that constitute the being of the multitude. In other words, the
effectiveness of Empire's regulatory and repressive procedures must finally be
traced back to the virtual, constitutive action of the multitude. Empire itself
is not a positive reality. In the very moment it rises up, it falls. Each
imperial action is a rebound of the resistance of the multitude that poses a new
obstacle for the multitude to overcome.[14]
Imperial command produces nothing vital and nothing ontological. From the
ontological perspective, imperial command is purely negative and passive.
Certainly power is everywhere, but it is everywhere because everywhere is in
play the nexus between virtuality and possibility, a nexus that is the sole
province of the multitude. Imperial power is the negative residue, the fallback
of the operation of the multitude; it is a parasite that draws its vitality from
the multitude's capacity to create ever new sources of energy and value. A
parasite that saps the strength of its host, however, can endanger its own
existence. The functioning of imperial power is ineluctably linked to its
decline.
The powers of science, knowledge, affect, and communication are the principal
powers that constitute our anthropological virtuality and are deployed on the
surfaces of Empire. This deployment extends across the general linguistic
territories that characterize the intersections between production and life.
Labor becomes increasingly immaterial and realizes its value through a singular
and continuous process of innovation in production; it is increasingly capable
of consuming or using the services of social reproduction in an ever more
refined and interactive way. Intelligence and affect (or really the brain
coextensive with the body), just when they become the primary productive powers,
make production and life coincide across the terrain on which they operate,
because life is nothing other than the production and reproduction of the set of
bodies and brains.
The relationship between production and life has thus been altered such that it
is now completely inverted with respect to how the discipline of political
economy understands it. Life is no longer produced in the cycles of reproduction
that are subordinated to the working day; on the contrary, life is what infuses
and dominates all production. In fact, the value of labor and production is
determined deep in the viscera of life. Industry produces no surplus except what
is generated by social activity-and this is why, buried in the great whale of
life, value is beyond measure. There would be no surplus ifproduction were not
animated throughout by social intelligence, by the general intellect and at the
same time by the affective expressions that define social relations and rule
over the articulations of social being. The excess of value is determined today
in the affects, in the bodies crisscrossed by knowledge, in the intelligence of
the mind, and in the sheer power to act. The production of commodities tends to
be accomplished entirely through language, where by language we mean machines of
intelligence that are continuously renovated by the affects and subjective
passions.[19]
It should be clear at this point what constitutes social cooperation here on the
surfaces of imperial society: the synergies of life, or really the productive
manifestations of naked life. Giorgio Agamben has used the term "naked life" to
refer to the negative limit of humanity and to expose behind the political
abysses that modern totalitarianism has constructed the (more or less heroic)
conditions of human passivity.[20] We would say, on the contrary, that through
their monstrosities of reducing human beings to a minimal naked life, fascism
and Nazism tried in vain to destroy the enormous power that naked life could
become and to expunge the form in which the new powers of productive cooperation
of the multitude are accumulated. One might say in line with this idea that the
reactionary deliriums of fascism and Nazism were unleashed when capital
discovered that social cooperation was no longer the result of the investment of
capital but rather an autonomous power, the a priori of every act of production.
When human power appears immediately as an autonomous cooperating collective
force, capitalist prehistory comes to an end. In other words, capitalist
prehistory comes to an end when social and subjective cooperation is no longer a
product but a presupposition, when naked life is raised up to the dignity of
productive power, or really when it appears as the wealth of virtuality.
Res Gestae/Machinae
In recent years there has been much talk of the end of history, and there have
also been made many justified objections to the reactionary celebrations of an
end of history that would see the present state of rule as eternal. It is
certainly true, nonetheless, that in modernity the power of capital and its
institutions of sovereignty had a solid hold on history and exerted their rule
over the historical process. The virtual powers of the multitude in
postmodernity signal the end of that rule and those institutions. That history
has ended. Capitalist rule is revealed as a transitory period. And yet, if the
transcendent teleology that capitalist modernity constructed is coming to an
end, how can the multitude define instead a materialist telos?[23]
Here we are dealing with two passages. The first consists in the fact that
virtuality totalizes the field of the res gestae. Virtuality steps forward and
demonstrates that the capacity of the historia rerum gestarum to dominate the
active virtual singularities has definitively expired. This is the historia that
comes to an end when the new virtualities emerge as powerful and liberate
themselves from a being that is invested hegemonically by capital and its
institutions. Today only the res gestae are charged with historical capacities,
or rather, today there is no history, only historicity. The second passage
consists in the fact that these singular virtualities as they gain their
autonomy also become self-valorizing. They express themselves as machines of
innovation. They not only refuse to be dominated by the old systems of value and
exploitation, but actually create their own irreducible possibilities as well.
Here is where a materialist telos is defined, founded on the action of
singularities, a teleology that is a resultant of the res gestae and a figure of
the machinic logic of the multitude.
The res gestae, the singular virtualities that operate the connection between
the possible and the real, are in the first passage outside measure and in the
second beyond measure. Singular virtualities, which are the hinge between
possible and real, play both these cards: being outside measure as a destructive
weapon (deconstructive in theory and subversive in practice); and being beyond
measure as constituent power. The virtual and the possible are wedded as
irreducible innovation and as a revolutionary machine.
You can not spill a drop of american blood without spilling the blood of the
whole world . . . [O]ur blood is as the flood of the Amazon, made up of a
thousand noble currents all pouring into one. We are not a nation, so much as a
world; for unless we may claim all the world for our sire, like Melchisedec, we
are without mother or father . . . Our ancestry is lost in the universal
paternity . . . We are the heirs of all time, and with all nations we divide our
inheritance.
Herman Melville
Fate has willed it that America is from now on to be at the center of Western
civilization rather than on the periphery.
Walter Lippmann
Louis-Ferdinand C‚line
Here we find ourselves back at the center of the paradox by which every theory
of Empire conceives the possibility of its own decline-but now we can begin to
explain it. IfEmpire is always an absolute positivity, the realization of a
government of the multitude, and an absolutely immanent apparatus, then it is
exposed to crisis precisely on the terrain of this definition, and not for any
other necessity or transcendence opposed to it. Crisis is the sign of an
alternative possibility on the plane of immanence-a crisis that is not necessary
but always possible. Machiavelli helps us understand this immanent,
constitutive, and ontological sense of crisis. Only in the present situation,
however, does this coexistence of crisis and the field of immanence become
completely clear. Since the spatial and temporal dimensions of political action
are no longer the limits but the constructive mechanisms of imperial government,
the coexistence of the positive and the negative on the terrain of immanence is
now configured as an open alternative. Today the same movements and tendencies
constitute both the rise and the decline of Empire.
The coexistence of the imperial spirit with signs of crisis and decline has
appeared in many different guises in European discourse over the past two
centuries, often as a reflection either on the end of European hegemony or on
the crisis of democracy and the triumph of mass society. We have insisted at
length throughout this book that the modern governments of Europe developed not
imperial but imperialist forms. The concept of Empire nonetheless survived in
Europe, and its lack of reality was continually mourned. The European debates
about Empire and decline interest us for two primary reasons: first, because the
crisis of the ideal of imperial Europe is at the center of these debates, and
second, because this crisis strikes precisely in that secret place of the
definition of Empire where the concept of democracy resides. Another element
that we have to keep in mind here is the standpoint from which the debates were
conducted: a standpoint that adopts the historical drama of the decline of
Empire in terms of collective lived experience. The theme of the crisis of
Europe was translated into a discourse on the decline of Empire and linked to
the crisis of democracy, along with the forms of consciousness and resistance
that this crisis implies.
Alexis de Tocqueville was perhaps the first to present the problem in these
terms. His analysis of mass democracy in the United States, with its spirit of
initiative and expansion, led him to the bitter and prophetic recognition of the
impossibility for European elites to continue to maintain a position of command
over world civilization.[3] Hegel had already perceived something very similar:
"America is . . . the country of the future, and its world-historical importance
has yet to be revealed in the ages which lie ahead . . . It is a land of desire
for all those who are weary of the historical arsenal of old Europe."[4]
Tocqueville, however, understood this passage in a much more profound way. The
reason for the crisis of European civilization and its imperial practices
consists in the fact that European virtue-or really its aristocratic morality
organized in the institutions of modern sovereignty- cannot manage to keep pace
with the vital powers of mass democracy. The death of God that many Europeans
began to perceive was really a sign of the expiration of their own planetary
centrality, which they could understand only in terms of a modern mysticism.
From Nietzsche to Burkhardt, from Thomas Mann to Max Weber, from Spengler to
Heidegger and Ortega y Gasset, and numerous other authors who straddled the
nineteenth and twentieth centuries, this intuition became a constant refrain
that was sung with such bitterness![5] The appearance of the masses on the
social and political scene, the exhaustion of the cultural and productive models
of modernity, the waning of the European imperialist projects, and the conflicts
among nations on questions of scarcity, poverty, and class struggle: all these
emerged as irreversible signs of decline. Nihilism dominated the era because the
times were without hope. Nietzsche gave the definitive diagnosis: "Europe is
sick."[6] The two World Wars that would ravage its territories, the triumph of
fascism, and now, after the collapse of Stalinism, the reappearance of the most
terrible specters of nationalism and intolerance all stand as proof to confirm
that these intuitions were in fact correct. From our standpoint, however, the
fact that against the old powers of Europe a new Empire has formed is only good
news. Who wants to see any more of that pallid and parasitic European ruling
class that led directly from the ancien r‚gime to nationalism, from populism to
fascism, and now pushes for a generalized neoliberalism? Who wants to see more
of those ideologies and those bureaucratic apparatuses that have nourished and
abetted the rotting European elites? And who can still stand those systems of
labor organization and those corporations that have stripped away every vital
spirit?
Our task here is not to lament the crisis of Europe, but rather to recognize in
its analyses the elements that, while confirming its tendency, still indicate
possible resistances, the margins of positive reaction, and the alternatives of
destiny. These elements have often appeared almost against the will of the
theorists of the crisis of their own times: it is a resistance that leaps to a
future time-a real and proper future past, a kind of future perfect tense. In
this sense, through the painful analyses of its causes, the crisis of European
ideology can reveal the definition of new, open resources. This is why it is
important to follow the developments of the crisis of Europe, because not only
in authors such as Nietzsche and Weber but also in the public opinion of the
times, the denunciation of the crisis revealed an extremely powerful positive
side, which contained the fundamental characteristics of the new world Empire we
are entering today. The agents of the crisis of the old imperial world became
foundations of the new. The undifferentiated mass that by its simple presence
was able to destroy the modern tradition and its transcendent power appears now
as a powerful productive force and an uncontainable source of valorization. A
new vitality, almost like the barbaric forces that buried Rome, reanimates the
field of immanence that the death of the European God left us as our horizon.
Every theory of the crisis of European Man and of the decline of the idea of
European Empire is in some way a symptom of the new vital force of the masses,
or as we prefer, of the desire of the multitude. Nietzsche declared this from
the mountaintops: "I have absorbed in myself the spirit of Europe-now I want to
strike back!"[7] Going beyond modernity means going beyond the barriers and
transcendences of Eurocentrism and leads toward the definitive adoption of the
field of immanence as the exclusive terrain of the theory and practice of
politics.
In the years after the explosion of the First World War, those who had
participated in the great massacre tried desperately to understand and control
the crisis. Consider the testimonies of Franz Rosenzweig and Walter Benjamin.
For both of them a kind of secular eschatology was the mechanism by which the
experience of the crisis could be set free.[8] After the historical experience
of war and misery, and also perhaps with an intuition of the holocaust to come,
they tried to discover a hope and a light of redemption. This attempt, however,
did not succeed in escaping the powerful undertow of the dialectic. Certainly
the dialectic, that cursed dialectic that had held together and anointed
European values, had been emptied out from within and was now defined in
completely negative terms. The apocalyptic scene on which this mysticism
searched for liberation and redemption, however, was still too implicated in the
crisis. Benjamin recognized this bitterly: "The past carries with it a temporal
index by which it is referred to redemption. There is a secret agreement between
past generations and the present. Our coming was expected on earth. Like every
generation that preceded us, we have been endowed with a weak Messianic power, a
power to which the past has a claim."[9]
For the real clarification of this scene, we are most indebted to the series of
French philosophers who reread Nietzsche several decades later, in the
1960s.[11] Their rereading involved a reorientation of the standpoint of the
critique, which came about when they began to recognize the end of the
functioning of the dialectic and when this recognition was confirmed in the new
practical, political experiences that centered on the production of
subjectivity. This was a production of subjectivity as power, as the
constitution of an autonomy that could not be reduced to any abstract or
transcendent synthesis.[12] Not the dialectic but refusal, resistance, violence,
and the positive affirmation of being now marked the relationship between the
location of the crisis in reality and the adequate response. What in the midst
of the crisis in the 1920s appeared as transcendence against history, redemption
against corruption, and messianism against nihilism now was constructed as an
ontologically definite position outside and against, and thus beyond every
possible residue of the dialectic. This was a new materialism which negated
every transcendent element and constituted a radical reorientation of spirit.
In order to understand the prof undity of this passage, one would do well to
focus on the awareness and anticipation of it in the thought of Ludwig
Wittgenstein. Wittgenstein's early writings gave a new life to the dominant
themes of early twentieth-century European thought: the condition of dwelling in
the desert of sense and searching for meaning, the coexistence of a mysticism of
the totality and the ontological tendency toward the production of subjectivity.
Contemporary history and its drama, which had been stripped away from any
dialectic, were then removed by Wittgenstein from any contingency. History and
experience became the scene of a materialist and tautological refoundation of
the subject in a desperate attempt to find coherence in the crisis. In the midst
of World War I Wittgenstein wrote: "How things stand, is God. God is, how things
stand. Only from the consciousness of the uniqueness of my life arises religion-
science-and art." And further: "This consciousness is life itself. Can it be an
ethics even if there is no living being outside myself? Can there be any ethics
if there is no living being but myself? If ethics is supposed to be something
fundamental, there can. If I am right, then it is not sufficient for the ethical
judgment that a world be given. Then the world in itself is neither good nor
evil . . . Good and evil only enter through the subject. And the subject is not
part of the world, but a boundary of the world." Wittgenstein denounces the God
of war and the desert of things in which good and evil are now indistinguishable
by situating the world on the limit of tautological subjectivity: "Here one can
see that solipsism coincides with pure realism, if it is strictly thought
out."[13] This limit, however, is creative. The alternative is completely given
when, and only when, subjectivity is posed outside the world: "My propositions
serve as elucidations in the following way: anyone who understands me eventually
recognizes them as nonsensical, when he has used them-as steps-to climb up
beyond them. (He must, so to speak, throw away the ladder after he has climbed
up it.) He must transcend these propositions, and then he will see the world
aright."[14] Wittgenstein recognizes the end of every possible dialectic and any
meaning that resides in the logic of the world and not in its marginal,
subjective surpassing. The tragic trajectory of this philosophical experience
allows us to grasp those elements that made the perception of the crisis of
modernity and the decline of the idea of Europe a (negative but necessary)
condition of the definition of the coming Empire. These authors were voices
crying out in the desert. Part of this generation would be interned in
extermination camps. Others would perpetuate the crisis through an illusory
faith in Soviet modernization. Others still, a significant group of these
authors, would flee to America. They were indeed voices crying out in the
desert, but their rare and singular anticipations of life in the desert give us
the means to reflect on the possibilities of the multitude in the new reality of
postmodern Empire. Those authors were the first to define the condition of the
complete deterritorialization of the coming Empire, and they were situated in it
just as the multitudes are situated in it today. The negativity, the refusal to
participate, the discovery of an emptiness that invests everything: this means
situating oneself peremptorily in an imperial reality that is itself defined by
crisis. Empire is the desert and crisis is at this point indistinguishable from
the tendency of history. Whereas in the ancient world the imperial crisis was
conceived as the product of a natural cyclical history, and whereas in the
modern world crisis was defined by a series of aporias of time and space, now
figures of crisis and practices of Empire have become indistinguishable. The
twentieth-century theorists of crisis teach us, however, that in this
deterritorialized and untimely space where the new Empire is constructed and in
this desert of meaning, the testimony of the crisis can pass toward the
realization of a singular and collective subject, toward the powers of the
multitude. The multitude has internalized the lack of place and fixed time; it
is mobile and flexible, and it conceives the future only as a totality of
possibilities that branch out in every direction. The coming imperial universe,
blind to meaning, is filled by the multifarious totality of the production of
subjectivity. The decline is no longer a future destiny but the present reality
of Empire.
America, America
The Europeans in crisis were enchanted by these siren songs of a new Empire.
European Americanism and anti-Americanism in the twentieth century are both
manifestations of the difficult relationship between Europeans in crisis and the
U.S. imperial project. The American utopia was received in many different ways,
but it functioned everywhere in twentieth-century Europe as a central reference
point. The continuous preoccupation was manifest both in the spleen of the
crisis and in the spirit of the avant-gardes, in other words, through the self-
destruction of modernity and the indeterminate but uncontainable will to
innovation that drove the last wave of great European cultural movements, from
expressionism and futurism to cubism and abstractionism.
The military history of the double rescue of Europe by the U.S. armies in the
two World Wars was paralleled by a rescue in political and cultural terms.
American hegemony over Europe, which was founded on financial, economic, and
military structures, was made to seem natural through a series of cultural and
ideological operations. Consider, for example, how in the years surrounding the
end of World War II the locus of artistic production and the idea of modern art
shifted from Paris to New York. Serge Guilbaut recounts the fascinating story of
how, when the Paris art scene had been thrown into disarray by war and Nazi
occupation, and in the midst of an ideological campaign to promote the leading
role of the United States in the postwar world, the abstract expressionism of
New York artists such as Jackson Pollock and Robert Motherwell was established
as the natural continuation and heir of European and specifically Parisian
modernism. New York stole the idea of modern art:
This passage in the history of artistic production and, more important, art
criticism is simply one aspect of the multifaceted ideological operation that
cast the U.S. global hegemony as the natural and ineluctable consequence of the
crisis of Europe.
Paradoxically, even the ferocious European nationalisms, which had led to such
violent conflicts over the first halfof the century, were eventually displaced
by a competition over who could better express a strong Americanism. Lenin's
Soviet Union in fact may have heard the siren song of Americanism most clearly.
The challenge was to replicate the results of the capitalism that had achieved
its pinnacle in the United States. The Soviets argued against the means the
United States employed and claimed instead that socialism could attain the same
results more efficiently through hard labor and the sacrifice of freedom. This
terrible ambiguity also runs throughout Gramsci's writings on Americanism and
Fordism, one of the fundamental texts for understanding the American problem
from the European point of view.[18] Gramsci saw the United States, with its
combination of new Taylorist forms of the organization of labor and its powerful
capitalist will to dominate, as the inevitable reference point for the future:
it was the only path for development. For Gramsci, it was then a matter of
understanding whether that revolution would be active (like that of Soviet
Russia) or passive (as in Fascist Italy). The consonance between Americanism and
state socialism should be obvious, with their parallel paths of development on
the two sides of the Atlantic throughout the cold war, which led finally to
dangerous competitions over space exploration and nuclear weapons. These
parallel paths simply highlight the fact that a certain Americanism had
penetrated into the heart of even its strongest adversary. The twentieth-century
developments of Russia were to a certain extent a microcosm for those of Europe.
The refusal of European consciousness to recognize its decline often took the
form of projecting its crisis onto the American utopia. That projection
continued for a long time, as long as lasted the necessity and urgency to
rediscover a site of freedom that could continue the teleological vision of
which Hegelian historicism is perhaps the highest expression. The paradoxes of
this projection multiplied, to the point where European consciousness, faced
with its undeniable and irreversible decline, reacted by going to the other
extreme: the primary site of competition, which had affirmed and repeated the
formal power of the U.S. utopia, now represented its complete overturning.
Solzhenitsyn's Russia became the absolute negative of the most caricatural and
apologetic images of the U.S. utopia in the guise of arnold Toynbee. It should
come as no surprise that the ideologies of the end of history, which are as
evolutionary as they are postmodern, should appear to complete this ideological
mess. The American Empire will bring an end to History.
We know, however, that this idea of american Empire as the redemption of utopia
is completely illusory. First of all, the coming Empire is not American and the
United States is not its center. The fundamental principle of Empire as we have
described it throughout this book is that its power has no actual and
localizable terrain or center. Imperial power is distributed in networks,
through mobile and articulated mechanisms of control. This is not to say that
the U.S. government and the U.S. territory are no different from any other: the
United States certainly occupies a privileged position in the global
segmentations and hierarchies of Empire. As the powers and boundaries of nation-
states decline, however, differences between national territories become
increasingly relative. They are now not differences of nature (as were, for
example, the differences between the territory of the metropole and that of the
colony) but differences of degree.
Furthermore, the United States cannot rectify or redeem the crisis and decline
of Empire. The United States is not the place where the European or even the
modern subject can flee to resolve its uneasiness and unhappiness; there was no
such place. The means to get beyond the crisis is the ontological displacement
of the subject. The most important change therefore takes place inside humanity,
since with the end of modernity also ends the hope of finding something that can
identify the self outside the community, outside cooperation, and outside the
critical and contradictory relationships that each person finds in a non-place,
that is, in the world and the multitude. This is where the idea of Empire
reappears, not as a territory, not in the determinate dimensions of its time and
space, and not from the standpoint of a people and its history, but rather
simply as the fabric of an ontological human dimension that tends to become
universal.
Crisis
With the real subsumption of society under capital, social antagonisms can erupt
as conflict in every moment and on every term of communicative production and
exchange. Capital has become a world. Use value and all the other references to
values and processes of valorization that were conceived to be outside the
capitalist mode of production have progressively vanished. Subjectivity is
entirely immersed in exchange and language, but that does not mean it is now
pacific. Technological development based on the generalization of the
communicative relationships of production is a motor of crisis, and productive
general intellect is a nest of antagonisms. Crisis and decline refer not to
something external to Empire but to what is most internal. They pertain to the
production of subjectivity itself, and thus they are at once proper and contrary
to the processes of the reproduction of Empire. Crisis and decline are not a
hidden foundation nor an ominous future but a clear and obvious actuality, an
always expected event, a latency that is always present.
It is midnight in a night of specters. Both the new reign of Empire and the new
immaterial and cooperative creativity of the multitude move in shadows, and
nothing manages to illuminate our destiny ahead. Nonetheless, we have acquired a
new point of reference (and tomorrow perhaps a new consciousness), which
consists in the fact that Empire is defined by crisis, that its decline has
always already begun, and that consequently every line of antagonism leads
toward the event and singularity. What does it mean, practically, that crisis is
immanent to and indistinguishable from Empire? Is it possible in this dark night
to theorize positively and define a practice of the event?
Generation
We can answer the question of how to get out of the crisis only by lowering
ourselves down into biopolitical virtuality, enriched by the singular and
creative processes of the production of subjectivity. How are rupture and
innovation possible, however, in the absolute horizon in which we are immersed,
in a world in which values seem to have been negated in a vacuum of meaning and
a lack of any measure? Here we do not need to go back again to a description of
desire and its ontological excess, nor insist again on the dimension of the
"beyond." It is sufficient to point to the generative determination of desire
and thus its productivity. In effect, the complete commingling of the political,
the social, and the economic in the constitution of the present reveals a
biopolitical space that-much better than Hannah Arendt's nostalgic utopia of
political space- explains the ability of desire to confront the crisis.[19] The
entire conceptual horizon is thus completely redefined. The biopolitical, seen
from the standpoint of desire, is nothing other than concrete production, human
collectivity in action. Desire appears here as productive space, as the
actuality of human cooperation in the construction of history. This production
is purely and simply human reproduction, the power of generation. Desiring
production is generation, or rather the excess of labor and the accumulation of
a power incorporated into the collective movement of singular essences, both its
cause and its completion.
When our analysis is firmly situated in the biopolitical world where social,
economic, and political production and reproduction coincide, the ontological
perspective and the anthropological perspective tend to overlap. Empire pretends
to be the master of that world because it can destroy it. What a horrible
illusion! In reality we are masters of the world because our desire and labor
regenerate it continuously. The biopolitical world is an inexhaustible weaving
together of generative actions, of which the collective (as meeting point of
singularities) is the motor. No metaphysics, except a delirious one, can pretend
to define humanity as isolated and powerless. No ontology, except a transcendent
one, can relegate humanity to individuality. No anthropology, except a
pathological one, can define humanity as a negative power. Generation, that
first fact of metaphysics, ontology, and anthropology, is a collective mechanism
or apparatus of desire. Biopolitical becoming celebrates this "first" dimension
in absolute terms.
Corruption
Opposed to generation stands corruption. Far from being the necessary complement
of generation, as the various Platonic currents of philosophy would like,
corruption is merely its simple negation.[20] Corruption breaks the chain of
desire and interrupts its extension across the biopolitical horizon of
production. It constructs black holes and ontological vacuums in the life of the
multitude that not even the most perverse political science manages to
camouflage. Corruption, contrary to desire, is not an ontological motor but
simply the lack of ontological foundation of the biopolitical practices of
being.
The forms in which corruption appears are so numerous that trying to list them
is like pouring the sea into a teacup. Let us try nonetheless to give a few
examples, even though they can in no way serve to represent the whole. In the
first place, there is corruption as individual choice that is opposed to and
violates the fundamental community and solidarity defined by biopolitical
production. This small, everyday violence of power is a mafia-style corruption.
In the second place, there is corruption of the productive order, or really
exploitation. This includes the fact that the values that derive from the
collective cooperation of labor are expropriated, and what was in the
biopolitical ab origine public is privatized. Capitalism is completely
implicated in this corruption of privatization. As Saint Augustine says, the
great reigns are only the enlarged projections of little thieves. Augustine of
Hippo, however, so realistic in this pessimistic conception of power, would be
struck dumb by today's little thieves of monetary and financial power. Really,
when capitalism loses its relationship to value (both as the measure of
individual exploitation and as a norm of collective progress), it appears
immediately as corruption. The increasingly abstract sequence of its functioning
(from the accumulation of surplus value to monetary and financial speculation)
is shown to be a powerful march toward generalized corruption. Ifcapitalism is
by definition a system of corruption, held together nonetheless as in
Mandeville's fable by its cooperative cleverness and redeemed according to all
its ideologies on right and left by its progressive function, then when measure
is dissolved and the progressive telos breaks down, nothing essential remains of
capitalism but corruption. In the third place, corruption appears in the
functioning of ideology, or rather in the perversion of the senses of linguistic
communication. Here corruption touches on the biopolitical realm, attacking its
productive nodes and obstructing its generative processes. This attack is
demonstrated, in the fourth place, when in the practices of imperial government
the threat ofterror becomes a weapon to resolve limited or regional conflicts
and an apparatus for imperial development. Imperial command, in this case, is
disguised and can alternately appear as corruption or destruction, almost as
ifto reveal the profound call that the former makes for the latter and the
latter for the former. The two dance together over the abyss, over the imperial
lack of being.
We do not lack communication, on the contrary we have too much of it. We lack
creation. We lack resistance to the present.
Imperial power can no longer resolve the conflict of social forces through
mediatory schemata that displace the terms of conflict. The social conflicts
that constitute the political confront one another directly, without mediations
of any sort. This is the essential novelty of the imperial situation. Empire
creates a greater potential for revolution than did the modern regimes of power
because it presents us, alongside the machine of command, with an alternative:
the set of all the exploited and the subjugated, a multitude that is directly
opposed to Empire, with no mediation between them. At this point, then, as
Augustine says, our task is to discuss, to the best of our powers, "the rise,
the development and the destined ends of the two cities . . . which we find . .
. interwoven . . . and mingled with one another."[1] Now that we have dealt
extensively with Empire, we should focus directly on the multitude and its
potential political power.
The constitution of Empire is not the cause but the consequence of the rise of
these new powers. It should be no surprise, then, that Empire, despite its
efforts, finds it impossible to construct a system of right adequate to the new
reality of the globalization of social and economic relations. This
impossibility (which served as the point of departure for our argument in
Section 1.1) is not due to the wide extension of the field of regulation; nor is
it simply the result of the difficult passage from the old system of
international public law to the new imperial system. This impossibility is
explained instead by the revolutionary nature of the multitude, whose struggles
have produced Empire as an inversion of its own image and who now represents on
this new scene an uncontainable force and an excess of value with respect to
every form of right and law. To confirm this hypothesis, it is sufficient to
look at the contemporary development of the multitude and dwell on the vitality
of its present expressions. When the multitude works, it produces autonomously
and reproduces the entire world of life. Producing and reproducing autonomously
mean constructing a new ontological reality. In effect, by working, the
multitude produces itself as singularity. It is a singularity that establishes a
new place in the non-place of Empire, a singularity that is a reality produced
by cooperation, represented by the linguistic community, and developed by the
movements of hybridization. The multitude affirms its singularity by inverting
the ideological illusion that all humans on the global surfaces of the world
market are interchangeable. Standing the ideology of the market on its feet, the
multitude promotes through its labor the biopolitical singularizations of groups
and sets of humanity, across each and every node of global interchange. Class
struggles and revolutionary processes of the past undermined the political
powers of nations and peoples. The revolutionary preamble that has been written
from the nineteenth to the twentieth centuries has prepared the new subjective
configuration of labor that comes to be realized today. Cooperation and
communication throughout the spheres of biopolitical production define a new
productive singularity. The multitude is not formed simply by throwing together
and mixing nations and peoples indifferently; it is the singular power of a new
city.
One might object at this point, with good reason, that all this is still not
enough to establish the multitude as a properly political subject, nor even less
as a subject with the potential to control its own destiny. This objection,
however, does not present an insuperable obstacle, because the revolutionary
past, and the contemporary cooperative productive capacities through which the
anthropological characteristics of the multitude are continually transcribed and
reformulated, cannot help revealing a telos, a material affirmation of
liberation. In the ancient world Plotinus faced something like this situation:
"Let us flee then to the beloved Fatherland": this is the soundest counsel . . .
The Fatherland to us is There whence we have come, and There is the Father. What
then is our course, what the manner of our flight? This is not a journey for the
feet; the feet bring us only from land to land; nor need you think of a coach or
ship to carry you away; all this order of things you must set aside and refuse
to see: you must close the eyes and call instead upon another vision which is to
be waked within you, a vision, the birth-right of all, which few turn to use.[2]
This is how ancient mysticism expressed the new telos. The multitude today,
however, resides on the imperial surfaces where there is no God the Father and
no transcendence. Instead there is our immanent labor. The teleology of the
multitude is theurgical; it consists in the possibility of directing
technologies and production toward its own joy and its own increase of power.
The multitude has no reason to look outside its own history and its own present
productive power for the means necessary to lead toward its constitution as a
political subject.
Recognizing the potential autonomy of the mobile multitude, however, only points
toward the real question. What we need to grasp is how the multitude is
organized and redefined as a positive, political power. Up to this point we have
been able to describe the potential existence of this political power in merely
formal terms. It would be a mistake to stop here, without going on to
investigate the mature forms of the consciousness and political organization of
the multitude, without recognizing how much is already powerful in these
territorial movements of the labor power of Empire. How can we recognize (and
reveal) a constituent political tendency within and beyond the spontaneity of
the multitude's movements?
This question can be approached initially from the other side by considering the
policies of Empire that repress these movements. Empire does not really know how
to control these paths and can only try to criminalize those who travel them,
even when the movements are required for capitalist production itself. The
migration lines of biblical proportions that go from South to North America are
obstinately called by the new drug czars "the cocaine trail"; or rather, the
articulations of exodus from North Africa and sub-Saharan Africa are treated by
European leaders as "paths of terrorism"; or rather still, the populations
forced to flee across the Indian Ocean are reduced to slavery in "Arabia f‚lix";
and the list goes on. And yet the flows of population continue. Empire must
restrict and isolate the spatial movements of the multitude to stop them from
gaining political legitimacy. It is extremely important from this point of view
that Empire use its powers to manage and orchestrate the various forces of
nationalism and fundamentalism (see Sections 2.2 and 2.4). It is no less
important, too, that Empire deploy its military and police powers to bring the
unruly and rebellious to order.[3] These imperial practices in themselves,
however, still do not touch on the political tension that runs throughout the
spontaneous movements of the multitude. All these repressive actions remain
essentially external to the multitude and its movements. Empire can only
isolate, divide, and segregate. Imperial capital does indeed attack the
movements of the multitude with a tireless determination: it patrols the seas
and the borders; within each country it divides and segregates; and in the world
of labor it reinforces the cleavages and borderlines of race, gender, language,
culture, and so forth. Even then, however, it must be careful not to restrict
the productivity of the multitude too much because Empire too depends on this
power. The movements of the multitude have to be allowed to extend always wider
across the world scene, and the attempts at repressing the multitude are really
paradoxical, inverted manifestations of its strength.
This leads us back to our fundamental questions: How can the actions of the
multitude become political? How can the multitude organize and concentrate its
energies against the repression and incessant territorial segmentations of
Empire? The only response that we can give to these questions is that the action
of the multitude becomes political primarily when it begins to confront directly
and with an adequate consciousness the central repressive operations of Empire.
It is a matter of recognizing and engaging the imperial initiatives and not
allowing them continually to reestablish order; it is a matter of crossing and
breaking down the limits and segmentations that are imposed on the new
collective labor power; it is a matter of gathering together these experiences
of resistance and wielding them in concert against the nerve centers of imperial
command.
This demand can also be configured in a more general and more radical way with
respect to the postmodern conditions of Empire. Ifin a first moment the
multitude demands that each state recognize juridically the migrations that are
necessary to capital, in a second moment it must demand control over the
movements themselves. The multitude must be able to decide if, when, and where
it moves. It must have the right also to stay still and enjoy one place rather
than being forced constantly to be on the move. The general right to control its
own movement is the multitude's ultimate demand for global citizenship. This
demand is radical insofar as it challenges the fundamental apparatus of imperial
control over the production and life of the multitude. Global citizenship is the
multitude's power to reappropriate control over space and thus to design the new
cartography.
Many elements arise on the endless paths of the mobile multitude in addition to
the spatial dimensions we have considered thus far. In particular, the multitude
takes hold of time and constructs new temporalities, which we can recognize by
focusing on the transformations of labor. Understanding this construction of new
temporalities will help us see how the multitude has the potential to make its
action coherent as a real political tendency.
This is a new proletariat and not a new industrial working class. The
distinction is fundamental. As we explained earlier, "proletariat" is the
general concept that defines all those whose labor is exploited by capital, the
entire cooperating multitude (Section 1.3). The industrial working class
represented only a partial moment in the history of the proletariat and its
revolutions, in the period when capital was able to reduce value to measure. In
that period it seemed as ifonly the labor of waged workers was productive, and
therefore all the other segments of labor appeared as merely reproductive or
even unproductive. In the biopolitical context of Empire, however, the
production of capital converges ever more with the production and reproduction
of social life itself; it thus becomes ever more difficult to maintain
distinctions among productive, reproductive, and unproductive labor. Labor-
material or immaterial, intellectual or corporeal-produces and reproduces social
life, and in the process is exploited by capital. This wide landscape of
biopolitical production allows us finally to recognize the full generality of
the concept of proletariat. The progressive indistinction between production and
reproduction in the biopolitical context also highlights once again the
immeasurability of time and value. As labor moves outside the factory walls, it
is increasingly difficult to maintain the fiction of any measure of the working
day and thus separate the time of production from the time of reproduction, or
work time from leisure time. There are no time clocks to punch on the terrain of
biopolitical production; the proletariat produces in all its generality
everywhere all day long.
The first aspect of the telos of the multitude has to do with the senses of
language and communication. If communication has increasingly become the fabric
of production, and iflinguistic cooperation has increasingly become the
structure of productive corporeality, then the control over linguistic sense and
meaning and the networks of communication becomes an ever more central issue for
political struggle. J rgen Habermas seems to have understood this fact, but he
grants the liberated functions of language and communication only to individual
and isolated segments of society.[5] The passage to postmodernity and Empire
prohibits any such compartmentalization of the life world and immediately
presents communication, production, and life as one complex whole, an open site
of conflict. The theorists and practitioners of science have long engaged these
sites of controversy, but today all of labor power (be it material or
immaterial, intellectual or manual) is engaged in struggles over the senses of
language and against capital's colonization of communicative sociality. All the
elements of corruption and exploitation are imposed on us by the linguistic and
communicative regimes of production: destroying them in words is as urgent as
doing so in deeds. This is not really a matter of ideology critique ifby
ideology we still understand a realm of ideas and language that is
superstructural, external to production. Or rather, in the imperial regime
ideology, critique becomes directly the critique of both political economy and
lived experience. How can sense and meaning be oriented differently or organized
in alternative, coherent communicative apparatuses? How can we discover and
direct the performative lines of linguistic sets and communicative networks that
create the fabric of life and production? Knowledge has to become linguistic
action and philosophy has to become a real reappropriation of knowledge.[6] In
other words, knowledge and communication have to constitute life through
struggle. A first aspect of the telos is posed when the apparatuses that link
communication to modes of life are developed through the struggle of the
multitude.
The fourth aspect deals with biopolitics. The subjectivity of living labor
reveals, simply and directly in the struggle over the senses of language and
technology, that when one speaks of a collective means of the constitution of a
new world, one is speaking of the connection between the power of life and its
political organization. The political, the social, the economic, and the vital
here all dwell together. They are entirely interrelated and completely
interchangeable. The practices of the multitude invest this complex and unitary
horizon-a horizon that is at once ontological and historical. Here is where the
biopolitical fabric opens to the constitutive, constituent power.
The fifth and final aspect thus deals directly with the constituent power of the
multitude-or really with the product of the creative imagination of the
multitude that configures its own constitution. This constituent power makes
possible the continuous opening to a process of radical and progressive
transformation. It makes conceivable equality and solidarity, those fragile
demands that were fundamental but remained abstract throughout the history of
modern constitutions. It should come as no surprise that the postmodern
multitude takes away from the U.S. Constitution what allowed it to become, above
and against all other constitutions, an imperial constitution: its notion of a
boundless frontier of freedom and its definition of an open spatiality and
temporality celebrated in a constituent power. This new range of possibilities
in no way guarantees what is to come. And yet, despite such reservations, there
is something real that foreshadows a coming future: the telos that we can feel
pulsing, the multitude that we construct within desire. Now we can formulate a
third political demand of the multitude: the right to reappropriation. The right
to reappropriation is first of all the right to the reappropriation of the means
of production. Socialists and communists have long demanded that the proletariat
have free access to and control over the machines and materials it uses to
produce. In the context of immaterial and biopolitical production, however, this
traditional demand takes on a new guise. The multitude not only uses machines to
produce, but also becomes increasingly machinic itself, as the means of
production are increasingly integrated into the minds and bodies of the
multitude. In this context reappropriation means having free access to and
control over knowledge, information, communication, and affects-because these
are some of the primary means of biopolitical production. Just because these
productive machines have been integrated into the multitude does not mean that
the multitude has control over them. Rather, it makes more vicious and injurious
their alienation. The right to reappropriation is really the multitude's right
to self-control and autonomous self-production.
Posse
The telos of the multitude must live and organize its political space against
Empire and yet within the "maturity of the times" and the ontological conditions
that Empire presents. We have seen how the multitude moves on endless paths and
takes corporeal form by reappropriating time and hybridizing new machinic
systems. We have also seen how the power of the multitude materializes within
the vacuum that remains necessarily at the heart of Empire. Now it is a matter
of posing within these dimensions the problem of the becoming-subject of the
multitude. In other words, the virtual conditions must now become real in a
concrete figure. Against the divine city, the earthly city must demonstrate its
power as an apparatus of the mythology of reason that organizes the biopolitical
reality of the multitude.
The name that we want to use to refer to the multitude in its political autonomy
and its productive activity is the Latin term posse-power as a verb, as
activity. In Renaissance humanism the triad esse-nosse-posse (being-knowing-
having power) represented the metaphysical heart of that constitutive
philosophical paradigm that was to go into crisis as modernity progressively
took form. Modern European philosophy, in its origins and in its creative
components that were not subjugated to transcendentalism, continually tended to
pose posse at the center of the ontological dynamic: posse is the machine that
weaves together knowledge and being in an expansive, constitutive process. When
the Renaissance matured and reached the point of conflict with the forces of
counterrevolution, the humanistic posse became a force and symbol of resistance,
in Bacon's notion of inventio or experimentation, Campanella's conception of
love, and Spinoza's usage of potentia. Posse is what a body and what a mind can
do. Precisely because it continued to live in resistance, the metaphysical term
became a political term. Posse refers to the power of the multitude and its
telos, an embodied power of Knowledge and being, always open to the possible.
Contemporary U.S. rap groups have rediscovered the term "posse" as a noun to
mark the force that musically and literarily defines the group, the singular
difference of the postmodern multitude. Of course, the proximate reference for
the rappers is probably the posse comitatus of Wild West lore, the rough group
of armed men who were constantly prepared to be authorized by the sheriff to
hunt down outlaws. This American fantasy of vigilantes and outlaws, however,
does not interest us very much. It is more interesting to trace back a deeper,
hidden etymology of the term. It seems to us that perhaps a strange destiny has
renewed the Renaissance notion and has, with a grain of madness, made the term
once again deserving of its high political tradition.
The posse produces the chromosomes of its future organization. Bodies are on the
front lines in this battle, bodies that consolidate in an irreversible way the
results of past struggles and incorporate a power that has been gained
ontologically. Exploitation must be not only negated from the perspective of
practice but also annulled in its premises, at its basis, stripped from the
genesis of reality. Exploitation must be excluded from the bodies of immaterial
labor-power just as it must be from the social knowledges and affects of
reproduction (generation, love, the continuity of Kinship and community
relationships, and so forth) that bring value and affect together in the same
power. The constitution of new bodies, outside of exploitation, is a fundamental
basis of the new mode of production.
The mode of production of the multitude reappropriates wealth from capital and
also constructs a new wealth, articulated with the powers of science and social
knowledge through cooperation. Cooperation annuls the title of property. In
modernity, private property was often legitimated by labor, but this equation,
if it ever really made sense, today tends to be completely destroyed. Private
property of the means of production today, in the era of the hegemony of
cooperative and immaterial labor, is only a putrid and tyrannical obsolescence.
The tools of production tend to be recomposed in collective subjectivity and in
the collective intelligence and affect of the workers; entrepreneurship tends to
be organized by the cooperation of subjects in general intellect. The
organization of the multitude as political subject, as posse, thus begins to
appear on the world scene. The multitude is biopolitical self-organization.
Certainly, there must be a moment when reappropriation and self-organization
reach a threshold and configure a real event. This is when the political is
really affirmed-when the genesis is complete and self-valorization, the
cooperative convergence of subjects, and the proletarian management of
production become a constituent power. This is the point when the modern
republic ceases to exist and the postmodern posse arises. This is the founding
moment of an earthly city that is strong and distinct from any divine city. The
capacity to construct places, temporalities, migrations, and new bodies already
affirms its hegemony through the actions of the multitude against Empire.
Imperial corruption is already undermined by the productivity of bodies, by
cooperation, and by the multitude's designs of productivity. The only event that
we are still awaiting is the construction, or rather the insurgence, of a
powerful organization. The genetic chain is formed and established in ontology,
the scaffolding is continuously constructed and renewed by the new cooperative
productivity, and thus we await only the maturation of the political development
of the posse. We do not have any models to offer for this event. Only the
multitude through its practical experimentation will offer the models and
determine when and how the possible becomes real.
MILITANT
In the postmodern era, as the figure of the people dissolves, the militant is
the one who best expresses the life of the multitude: the agent of biopolitical
production and resistance against Empire. When we speak of the militant, we are
not thinking of anything like the sad, ascetic agent of the Third International
whose soul was deeply permeated by Soviet state reason, the same way the will of
the pope was embedded in the hearts of the knights of the Society of Jesus. We
are thinking of nothing like that and of no one who acts on the basis of duty
and discipline, who pretends his or her actions are deduced from an ideal plan.
We are referring, on the contrary, to something more like the communist and
liberatory combatants of the twentieth-century revolutions, the intellectuals
who were persecuted and exiled in the course of anti-fascist struggles, the
republicans of the Spanish civil war and the European resistance movements, and
the freedom fighters of all the anticolonial and anti-imperialist wars. A
prototypical example of this revolutionary figure is the militant agitator of
the Industrial Workers of the World. The Wobbly constructed associations among
working people from below, through continuous agitation, and while organizing
them gave rise to utopian thought and revolutionary knowledge. The militant was
the fundamental actor of the "long march" of the emancipation of labor from the
nineteenth to the twentieth centuries, the creative singularity of that gigantic
collective movement that was working-class struggle.
Across this long period, the activity of the militant consisted, first of all,
in practices of resistance in the factory and in society against capitalist
exploitation. It consisted also, through and beyond resistance, in the
collective construction and exercise of a counterpower capable of destructuring
the power of capitalism and opposing it with an alternative program of
government. In opposition to the cynicism of the bourgeoisie, to monetary
alienation, to the expropriation of life, to the exploitation of labor, to the
colonization of the affects, and so on, the militant organized the struggle.
Insurrection was the proud emblem of the militant. This militant was repeatedly
martyred in the tragic history of communist struggles. Sometimes, but not often,
the normal structures of the rights state were sufficient for the repressive
tasks required to destroy the counterpower. When they were not sufficient,
however, the fascists and the white guards of state terror, or rather the black
mafias in the service of "democratic" capitalisms, were invited to lend a hand
to reinforce the legal repressive structures.
Today, after so many capitalist victories, after socialist hopes have withered
in disillusionment, and after capitalist violence against labor has been
solidified under the name of ultra-liberalism, why is it that instances of
militancy still arise, why have resistances deepened, and why does struggle
continually reemerge with new vigor? We should say right away that this new
militancy does not simply repeat the organizational formulas of the old
revolutionary working class. Today the militant cannot even pretend to be a
representative, even of the fundamental human needs of the exploited.
Revolutionary political militancy today, on the contrary, must rediscover what
has always been its proper form: not representational but constituent activity.
Militancy today is a positive, constructive, and innovative activity. This is
the form in which we and all those who revolt against the rule of capital
recognize ourselves as militants today. Militants resist imperial command in a
creative way. In other words, resistance is linked immediately with a
constitutive investment in the biopolitical realm and to the formation of
cooperative apparatuses of production and community. Here is the strong novelty
of militancy today: it repeats the virtues of insurrectional action of two
hundred years of subversive experience, but at the same time it is linked to a
new world, a world that knows no outside. It knows only an inside, a vital and
ineluctable participation in the set of social structures, with no possibility
of transcending them. This inside is the productive cooperation of mass
intellectuality and affective networks, the productivity of postmodern
biopolitics. This militancy makes resistance into counterpower and makes
rebellion into a project of love.
There is an ancient legend that might serve to illuminate the future life of
communist militancy: that of Saint Francis of Assisi. Consider his work. To
denounce the poverty of the multitude he adopted that common condition and
discovered there the ontological power of a new society. The communist militant
does the same, identifying in the common condition of the multitude its enormous
wealth. Francis in opposition to nascent capitalism refused every instrumental
discipline, and in opposition to the mortification of the flesh (in poverty and
in the constituted order) he posed a joyous life, including all of being and
nature, the animals, sister moon, brother sun, the birds of the field, the poor
and exploited humans, together against the will of power and corruption. Once
again in postmodernity we find ourselves in Francis's situation, posing against
the misery of power the joy of being. This is a revolution that no power will
control-because biopower and communism, cooperation and revolution remain
together, in love, simplicity, and also innocence. This is the irrepressible
lightness and joy of being communist.
NOTES
PREFACE
5. Ours is certainly not the only work that prepares the terrain for the
analysis and critique of Empire. Although they do not use the term "Empire," we
see the work of numerous authors oriented in this direction; they include
Fredric Jameson, David Harvey, Arjun Appadurai, Gayatri Spivak, Edward Said,
Giovanni Arrighi, and ArifDirlik, to name only some of the best known.
2. On the permutations of European pacts for international peace, see Leo Gross,
"The Peace of Westphalia, 1648-1948," American Journal of International Law, 42,
no. 1 (1948), 20-41.
3. Danilo Zolo, Cosmopolis: Prospects for World Government, trans. David McKie
(Cambridge: Polity Press, 1997), is the one who expresses most clearly the
hypothesis that the paradigm of the project of the new world order should be
located back in the Peace of Vienna. We follow his analysis in many respects.
See also Richard Falk, "The Interplay of Westphalia and Charter Conception of
International Legal Order," in C. A. Blach and Richard Falk, eds., The Future of
International Legal Order (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1969), 1:32-
70.
4. Hans Kelsen, Das Problem des Souver„nit„t und die Theorie des V”lkerrechts:
Beitrag zu einer Reinen Rechtslehre (T bingen: Mohr, 1920), p. 205. See also
Principles of International Law, (New York: Rinehart, 1952), p. 586.
6. See Hans Kelsen, The Law of the United Nations (New York: Praeger, 1950).
7. On the legal history of the United Nations, see Alf Ross, United Nations:
Peace and Progress (Totowa, N.J.: Bedminster Press, 1966); Benedetto Conforti,
The Law and Practice of the United Nations (Boston: Kluwer Law International,
1996); Richard Falk, Samuel S. Kim, and Saul H. Mendlovitz, eds., The United
Nations and a Just World Order (Boulder: Westview Press, 1991).
8. On the concept of "domestic analogy" both from the genealogical point of view
and from that of international juridical politics, see Hedley Bull, The
Anarchical Society (London: Macmillan, 1977); and above all Hidemi Suganami, The
Domestic Analogy and World Order Proposals (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1989). For a critical and realistic perspective against conceptions of a
"domestic analogy," see James N. Rosenau, Turbulence in World Politics: A Theory
of Change and Continuity (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1990).
9. See Norberto Bobbio, Il problema della guerra e le vie della pace (Bologna:
Il Mulino, 1984).
10. For Norberto Bobbio's position on these arguments, see primarily Il terzo
assente (Turin: Edizioni Sonda, 1989). In general, however, on recent lines of
internationalist thought and on the alternative between statist and cosmopolitan
approaches, see Zolo, Cosmopolis.
11. See the work of Richard Falk, primarily A Study of Future Worlds (New York:
Free Press, 1975); The Promise of World Order (Philadelphia: Temple University
Press, 1987); and Explorations at the Edge of Time (Philadelphia: Temple
University Press, 1992). The origin of Falk's discourse and its idealist
reformist line might well be traced back to the famous initial propositions
posed by Grenville Clark and Louis B. Sohn, World Peace through World Law
(Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1958).
12. In Section 2.4 we will discuss briefly the work of authors who challenge the
traditional field of international relations from a postmodernist perspective.
14. See, for example, Samir Amin, Empire of Chaos (New York: Monthly Review
Press, 1992).
15. For our analyses of the Roman Empire we have relied on some of the classic
texts, such as Gaetano de Sanctis, Storia dei Romani, 4 vols. (Turin: Bocca,
1907-1923); Hermann Dessau, Geschichte der r”manischen Keiserzeit, 2 vols.
(Berlin: Weidmann, 1924-1930); Michael Rostovzeff, Social and Economic History
of the Roman Empire, 2 vols. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1926); Pietro de
Francisci, Genesi e struttura del principato augusteo (Rome: Sampaolesi, 1940);
and Santo Mazzarino, Fra Oriente ed Occidente (Florence: La Nuova Italia, 1947).
16. See Johannes Adam Hartung, Die Lehre von der Weltherrschaft im Mittelalter
(Halle, 1909); Heinrich Dannenbauer, ed., Das Reich: Idee und Gestalt
(Stuttgart: Cotta, 1940); Georges de Lagarde, "La conception m‚di‚val de l'ordre
en face de l'umanisme, de la Renaissance et de la Reforme," in Congresso
internazionale di studi umanistici, Umanesimo e scienza politica (Milan:
Marzorati, 1951); and Santo Mazzarino, The End of the Ancient World, trans.
George Holmes (New York: Knopf, 1966).
17. See Michael Walzer, Just and Unjust Wars, 2nd ed. (New York: Basic Books,
1992). The renewal of just war theory in the 1990s is demonstrated by the essays
in Jean Bethke Elshtain, ed., Just War Theory (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1992).
18. One should distinguish here between jus ad bellum (the right to make war)
and jus in bello (law in war), or really the rules of the correct conduct of
war. See Walzer, Just and Unjust Wars, pp. 61-63 and 90.
19. On the GulfWar and justice, see Norberto Bobbio, Una guerra giusta? Sul
conflitto del Golfo (Venice: Marsilio, 1991); Ramsey Clark, The Fire This Time:
U.S. War Crimes in the Gulf (New York: Thunder's Mouth Press, 1992); J rgen
Habermas, The Past as Future, trans. Max Pensky (Lincoln: University of Nebraska
Press, 1994); and Jean Bethke Elshtain, ed., But Was It Just? reflections on the
Morality of the Persian Gulf War (New York: Doubleday, 1992).
21. This concept was introduced and articulated in James Rosenau, "Governance,
Order, and Change in World Politics," in James Rosenau and Ernst-Otto Czempiel,
Governance without Government (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992).
22. At one extreme, see the set of essays assembled in V. Rittenberger, ed.,
Beyond Anarchy: International Cooperation and Regimes (Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 1994).
23. See Hans Kelsen, Peace through Law (Chapel Hill: University of North
Carolina Press, 1944).
24. On Machiavelli's reading of the Roman Empire, see Antonio Negri, Il potere
costituente (Milan: Sugarco, 1992), pp. 75-96; in English, Insurgencies:
Constituent Power and the Modern State, trans. Maurizia Boscagli (Minneapolis:
University of Minnesota Press, 1999).
25. For a reading of the juridical passage from modernity to postmodernity, see
Michael Hardt and Antonio Negri, Labor of Dionysus: A Critique of the State-Form
(Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1994), chaps. 6 and 7.
26. It is strange how in this internationalist debate almost the only work of
Carl Schmitt that is taken up is Der Nomos der Erde im V”lkerrecht des Jus
Publicum Europaeum (Cologne: Greven, 1950), when really precisely in this
context his more important work is Verfassungslehre, 8th ed. (Berlin: Duncker &
Humblot, 1993), and his positions developed around the definition of the concept
of the political and the production of right.
27. In order to get a good idea of this process it may be enough to read
together the disciplinary classics of international law and international
economics, linking their observations and prescriptions, which emerge from
different disciplinary formations but share a certain neorealism, or really a
realism in the Hobbesian sense. See, for example, Kenneth Neal Waltz, Theory of
International Politics (New York: Random House, 1979); and Robert Gilpin, The
Political Economy of International Relations (Princeton: Princeton University
Press, 1987).
28. In order to get an initial idea of the vast and often confused literature on
this topic, see Gene Lyons and Michael Mastanduno, eds., Beyond Westphalia?
State Sovereignty and International Intervention (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins
University Press, 1995); Arnold Kanter and Linton Brooks, eds., U.S.
Intervention Policy for the Post-Cold War World (New York: Norton, 1994); Mario
Bettati, Le droit d'ing‚rence (Paris: Odile Jacob, 1995); and Maurice Bernard,
La fin de l'ordre militaire (Paris: Presses de Sciences Politiques, 1995).
30. We are refering here to the two classic texts: Montesquieu, Considerations
on the Causes of the Greatness of the Romans and Their Decline, trans. David
Lowenthal (New York: Free Press, 1965); and Edward Gibbon, The History of the
Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, 3 vols. (London: Penguin, 1994).
31. As Jean Ehrard has amply shown, the thesis that the decline of Rome began
with Caesar was continually reproposed throughout the historiography of the age
of Enlightenment. See Jean Ehrard, La politique de Montesquieu (Paris: A. Colin,
1965).
32. The principle of the corruption of political regimes was already implicit in
the theory of the forms of government as it was formulated in the Sophistic
period, which was later codified by Plato and Aristotle. The principle of
"political" corruption was later translated into a principle of historical
development through theories that grasped the ethical schemes of the forms of
government as cyclical temporal developments. of all the proponents of different
theoretical tendencies who have embarked on this endeavor (and the Stoics are
certainly fundamental in this regard), Polybius is the one who really described
the model in its definitive form, celebrating the creative function of
corruption.
2. See primarily Michel Foucault, The History of Sexuality, trans. Robert Hurley
(New York: Vintage, 1978), 1:135-145. For other treatments of the concept of
biopolitics in Foucualt's opus, see "The Politics of Health in the Eighteenth
Century," in Power/Knowledge, ed. Colin Gordon (New York: Pantheon, 1980), pp.
166-182; "La naissance de la m‚decine sociale," in Dits et ‚crits (Paris:
Gallimard, 1994), 3:207-228, particularly p. 210; and "Naissance de la
biopolitique," in Dits et ‚crits, 3:818-825. For examples of work by other
authors following Foucault's notion of biopolitics, see Hubert Dreyfus and Paul
Rabinow, eds., Michel Foucault: Beyond Structuralism and Hermeneutics (Chicago:
University of Chicago Press, 1992), pp. 133-142; and Jacques Donzelot, The
Policing of Families, trans. Robert Hurley (New York: Pantheon, 1979).
3. Michel Foucault, "Les mailles du pouvoir," in Dits et ‚crits (Paris:
Gallimard, 1994), 4:182-201; quotation p. 194.
4. Many thinkers have followed Foucault along these lines and successfully
problematized the welfare state. See primarily Jacques Donzelot, L'invention du
social (Paris: Fayard, 1984); and Fran‡ois Ewald, L'‚tat providence (Paris:
Seuil, 1986).
6. See Max Horkheimer and Theodor Adorno, The Dialectic of Enlightenment, trans.
John Cumming (New York: Herder and Herder, 1972).
7. See Gilles Deleuze and F‚lix Guattari, A Thousand Plateaus, trans. Brian
Massumi (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1987).
10. We are referring here to the thematics of Mobilmachtung that were developed
in the Germanic world primarily in the 1920s and 1930s, more or less from Ernst
J nger to Carl Schmitt. In French culture, too, such positions emerged in the
1930s, and the polemics around them have still not died down. The figure of
Georges Bataille is at the center of this discussion. Along different lines, on
"general mobilization" as a paradigm of the constitution of collective labor
power in Fordist capitalism, see Jean Paul de Gaudemar, La mobilisation g‚n‚rale
(Paris: Maspero, 1978).
11. One could trace a very interesting line of discussions that effectively
develop the Foucauldian interpretation of biopower from Jacques Derrida's
reading of Walter Benjamin's "Critique of violence" ("Force of Law," in Drucilla
Cornell, Michel Rosenfeld, and David Gray Carlson, eds., Deconstruction and the
Possibility of Justice [New York: Routledge, 1992], pp. 3-67) to Giorgio
Agamben's more recent and more stimulating contribution, Homo sacer: il potere
sovrano e la nuda vita (Turin: Einaudi, 1995). It seems fundamental to us,
however, that all of these discussions be brought back to the question of the
productive dimensions of "bios," identifying in other words the materialist
dimension of the concept beyond any conception that is purely naturalistic (life
as "zoŠ") or simply anthropological (as Agamben in particular has a tendency to
do, making the concept in effect indifferent).
15. F‚lix Guattari has perhaps developed the extreme consequences of this type
of social critique, while carefully avoiding falling into the anti-"grand
narrative" style of postmodernist argument, in his Chaosmosis, trans. Paul Bains
and Julian Pefanis (Sydney: Power Publications, 1995). From a metaphysical point
of view, among the followers of Nietzsche, we find roughly analogous positions
expressed in Massimo Cacciari, DRAN: m‚ridiens de la d‚cision dans la pens‚e
contemporaine (Paris: L'‚ clat, 1991).
16. In English, see primarily the essays in Paolo Virno and Michael Hardt, eds.,
Radical Thought in Italy (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1996). See
also Christian Marazzi, Il posto dei calzini: la svolta linguistica
dell'economia e i suoi effetti nella politica (Bellinzona: Edizioni Casagrande);
and numerous issues of the French journal Futur ant‚rieur, particularly nos. 10
(1992) and 35-36 (1996). For an analysis that appropriates central elements of
this project but ultimately fails to capture its power, see Andr‚ Gorz, MisŠre
du pr‚sent, richesse du possible (Paris: Galil‚e, 1997).
17. The framework on which this line of inquiry is built is both its great
wealth and its real limitation. The analysis must in effect be carried beyond
the constraints of the "workerist" (operaista) analysis of capitalist
development and the state-form. One of its limitations, for example, is
highlighted by Gayatri Spivak, In Other Worlds: Essays in Cultural Politics (New
York: Routledge, 1988), p. 162, who insists on the fact that the conception of
value in this line of Marxist analysis may function in the dominant countries
(including in the context of certain streams of feminist theory) but completely
misses the mark in the context of the subordinated regions of the globe.
Spivak's questioning is certainly extremely important for the problematic we are
developing in this study. In fact, from a methodological point of view, we would
say that the most profound and solid problematic complex that has yet been
elaborated for the critique of biopolitics is found in feminist theory,
particularly Marxist and socialist feminist theories that focus on women's work,
affective labor, and the production of biopower. This presents the framework
perhaps best suited to renew the methodology of the European "workerist"
schools.
18. The theories of the "turbulence" of the international order, and even more
of the new world order, which we cited earlier (see primarily the work of J. G.
Ruggie), generally avoid in their explanation of the causes of this turbulence
any reference to the contradictory character of capitalist relations. Social
turbulence is considered merely a consequence of the international dynamics
among state actors in such a way that turbulence can be normalized within the
strict disciplinary limits of international relations. Social and class
struggles are effectively hidden by the method of analysis itself. From this
perspective, then, the "productive bios" cannot really be understood. The same
is more or less the case for the authors of the world-systems perspective, who
focus primarily on the cycles of the system and systemic crises (see the works
of Wallerstein and Arrighi cited earlier). Theirs is in effect a world (and a
history) without subjectivity.
What they miss is the function of the productive bios, or really the fact that
capital is not a thing but a social relationship, an antagonistic relationship,
one side of which is animated by the productive life of the multitude.
19. Giovanni Arrighi, The Long Twentieth Century (London: Verso, 1995), for
example, claims such a continuity in the role of capitalist corporations. For an
excellent contrasting view in terms of periodization and methodological
approach, see Luciano Ferrari Bravo, "Introduzione: vecchie e nuove questioni
nella teoria dell'imperialismo," in Luciano Ferrari Bravo, ed., Imperialismo e
classe operaia multinazionale (Milan: Feltrinelli, 1975), pp. 7-70.
20. See, from the perspective of political analysis, Paul Kennedy, Preparing for
the Twenty-first Century (New York: Random House, 1993); and from the
perspective of economic topography and socialist critique, David Harvey, The
Condition of Postmodernity (Oxford: Blackwell, 1989).
23. We are indebted to Deleuze and Guattari and their A Thousand Plateaus for
the most fully elaborated phenomenological description of this industrial-
monetary-world-nature, which constitutes the first level of the world order.
24. See Edward Comor, ed., The Global Political Economy of Communication
(London: Macmillan, 1994).
25. See Stephen Bradley, ed., Globalization, Technologies, and Competition: The
Fusion of Computers and Telecommunications in the 90s (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard
Business School Press, 1993); and Simon Serfaty, The Media and Foreign Policy
(London: Macmillan, 1990).
26. See J rgen Habermas, Theory of Communicative Action, trans. Thomas McCarthy
(Boston: Beacon Press, 1984). We discuss this relationship between communication
and production in more detail in Section 3.4.
28. Despite the extremism of the authors presented in Martin Albrow and
Elizabeth King, eds., Globalization, Knowledge, and Society (London: Sage,
1990), and the relative moderation of Bryan S. Turner, Theories of Modernity and
Postmodernity (London: Sage, 1990), and Mike Featherstone, ed., Global Culture,
Nationalism, Globalization, and Modernity (London: Sage, 1991), the differences
among their various positions are really relatively minor. We should always keep
in mind that the image of a "global civil society" is born not only in the minds
of certain postmodernist philosophers and among certain followers of Habermas
(such as Jean Cohen and Andrew Arato), but also and more importantly in the
Lockean tradition of international relations. This latter group includes such
important theorists as Richard Falk, David Held, Anthony Giddens, and (in
certain respects) Danilo Zolo. On the concept of civil society in the global
context, see Michael Walzer, ed., Toward a Global Civil Society (Providence:
Berghahn Books, 1995).
29. With the iconoclastic irony of Jean Baudrillard's more recent writings such
as The Gulf War Did Not Take Place, trans. Paul Patton (Bloomington: Indiana
University Press, 1995), a certain vein of French postmodernism has gone back to
a properly surrealist framework.
30. There is an uninterrupted continuity from the late cold war notions of
"democracy enforcing" and "democratic transition" to the imperial theories of
"peace enforcing." We have already highlighted the fact that many moral
philosophers supported the GulfWar as a just cause, whereas juridical theorists,
following the important lead of Richard Falk, were generally opposed. See, for
example, Richard Falk, "Twisting the U.N. Charter to U.S. Ends," in Hamid
Mowlana, George Gerbner, and Herbert Schiller, eds., Triumph of the Image: The
Media's War in the Persian Gulf (Boulder: Westview Press, 1992), pp. 175-190.
See also the discussion of the GulfWar in Danilo Zolo, Cosmopolis: Prospects for
World Government, trans. David McKie (Cambridge: Polity Press, 1997).
31. For a representative example, see Richard Falk, Positive Prescriptions for
the Future, World Order Studies Program occasional paper no. 20 (Princeton:
Center for International Studies, 1991). To see how NGOs are integrated into
this more or less Lockean framework of "global constitutionalism," one should
refer to the public declarations of Antonio Cassese, president of the United
Nations Criminal Court in Amsterdam, in addition to his books, International Law
in a Divided World (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1986), and Human Rights in a
Changing World (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1990).
32. Even the proposals to reform the United Nations proceed more or less along
these lines. For a good bibliography of such works, see Joseph Preston Baratta,
Strengthening the United Nations: A Bibliography on U.N. Reform and World
Federalism (New York: Greenwood, 1987).
33. This is the line that is promoted in some of the strategic documents
published by the U.S. military agencies. According to the present Pentagon
doctrine, the project of the enlargement of market democracy should be supported
by both adequate microstrategies that are based on (both pragmatic and systemic)
zones of application and the continual identification of critical points and
fissures in the antagonistic strong cultural blocs that would lead toward their
dissolution. In this regard, see the work of Maurice Rounai of the Strategic
Institute in Paris. See also the works on U.S. interventionism cited in Section
1.1, note 28.
34. One should refer, once again, to the work of Richard Falk and Antonio
Cassese. We should emphasize, in particular, how a "weak" conception of the
exercise of judicial functions by the U.N. Court of Justice has gradually, often
under the influence of Left political forces, been transformed into a "strong"
conception. In other words, there is a passage from the demand that the Court of
Justice be invested with the functions of judicial sanction that come under the
authority of the U.N. structure to the demand that the court play a direct and
active role in the decisions of the U.N. and its organs regarding norms of
parity and material justice among states, to the point of carrying out direct
intervention in the name of human rights.
35. See Max Weber, Economy and Society, trans. Guenther Roth and Claus Wittich
(Berkeley: University of calif ornia Press, 1968), vol. 1, chap. 3, sec. 2, "The
Three Pure Types of authority," pp. 215-216.
1. We mean to "flirt with Hegel" here the way Marx described in the famous
postscript to volume 1 of Capital (trans. Ben Fowkes [New York: Vintage, 1976])
of January 24, 1873 (pp. 102-103). As they did to Marx, Hegel's terms seem
useful to us to frame the argument, but quickly we will run up against the real
limit of their utility.
3. We will return to the concept of the nation at greater length in Section 2.2.
7. See, for example, Guy Debord's Society of the Spectacle, trans. Donald
Nicholson-Smith (New York: Zone Books, 1994), which is perhaps the best
articulation, in its own delirious way, of the contemporary consciousness of the
triumph of capital.
9. See Arif Dirlik, "Mao Zedong and 'Chinese Marxism,'" in Saree Makdisi, Cesare
Casarino, and Rebecca Karl, eds., Marxism beyond Marxism (New York: Routledge,
1996), pp. 119-148. See also ArifDirlik, "Modernism and Antimodernism in Mao
Zedong's Marxism," in ArifDirlik, Paul Healy, and Nick Knight, eds., Critical
Perspectives on Mao Zedong's Thought (Atlantic Heights, N.J.: Humanities Press,
1997), pp. 59-83.
10. On the tactical ambiguities of the "national politics" of the socialist and
communist parties, see primarily the work of the Austro-Marxists, such as Otto
Bauer's Die Nationalit„tenfrage und die Sozialdomocratie (Vienna: Wiener
Volksbuchhandlung, 1924); and Stalin's influential "Marxism and the National
Question," in Marxism and the National and Colonial Question (New York:
International Publishers, 1935), pp. 3-61. We will return to these authors in
Section 2.2. For a special and particularly interesting case, see Enzo Traverso,
Les marxistes et la question juive (Paris: La BrŠche, 1990).
11. On the cycle of anti-imperialist struggles in the late nineteenth and early
twentieth centuries (seen from the Chinese perspective), see Rebecca Karl,
Staging the World: China and the Non-West at the Turn of the Twentieth Century
(Durham: Duke University Press, forthcoming).
13. This notion of the proletariat might thus be understood in Marx's own terms
as the personification of a strictly economic category, that is, the subject of
labor under capital. As we redefine the very concept of labor and extend the
range of activities understood under it (as we have done elsewhere and will
continue to do in this book), the traditional distinction between the economic
and the cultural breaks down. Even in Marx's most economistic formulations,
however, proletariat must be understood really as a properly political category.
See Michael Hardt and Antonio Negri, Labor of Dionysus (Minneapolis: University
of Minnesota Press, 1994), pp. 3-21; and Antonio Negri, "Twenty Theses of Marx,"
in Saree Makdisi, Cesare Casarino, and Rebecca Karl, eds., Marxism beyond
Marxism (New York: Routledge, 1996), pp. 149-180.
14. See Michael Hardt, "Los Angeles Novos," Futur ant‚rieur, no. 12/13 (1991),
12-26.
15. See Luis Gomez, ed., Mexique: du Chiapas … la crise financiŠre, Supplement,
Futur ant‚rieur (1996).
16. See primarily Futur ant‚rieur, no. 33/34, Tous ensemble! R‚flections sur les
luttes de novembre-d‚cembre (1996). See also Raghu Krishnan, "December 1995: The
First Revolt against Globalization," Monthly Review, 48, no. 1 (May 1996), 1-22.
17. Karl Marx, The Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte (New York:
International Publishers, 1963), p. 121.
19. In opposition to the theories of the "weakest link," which not only were the
heart of the tactics of the Third International but also were largely adopted by
the anti-imperialist tradition as a whole, the Italian operaismo movement of the
1960s and 1970s proposed a theory of the "strongest link." For the fundamental
theoretical thesis, see Mario Tronti, Operai e capitale (Turin: Einaudi, 1966),
esp. pp. 89-95.
20. One can find ample and continuous documentation of these techniques of
disinformation and silencing in publications ranging from Le Monde Diplomatique
to Z Magazine and the Covert Action Bulletin. Noam Chomsky has tirelessly worked
to unveil and counter such disinformation in his numerous books and lectures.
See, for example, Edward Herman and Noam Chomsky, Manufacturing Consent: The
Political Economy of Mass Media (New York: Pantheon, 1988). The GulfWar
presented an excellent example of the imperial management of communication. See
W. Lance Bennett and David L. Paletz, eds., Taken by Storm: The Media, Public
Opinion, and U.S. Foreign Policy in the Gulf War (Chicago: University of Chicago
Press, 1994); and Douglas Kellner, The Persian Gulf TV War (Boulder: Westview
Press, 1992).
22. Keeping in mind the limitations we mentioned earlier, one should refer here
to the work of F‚lix Guattari, particularly the writings of his final period
such as Chaosmosis, trans. Paul Bains and Julian Pefanis (Sydney: Power
Publications, 1995).
POLITICAL MANIFESTO
2. Johannes Duns Scotus, Opus Oxoniense, Book IV, Distinctio XIII, Quaestio I,
in Opera Omnia, vol. 8 (Hildesheim: Georg Olms Verlagsbuchhandlung, 1969), p.
807.
5. Giovanni Pico della Mirandola, Of Being and Unity, trans. Victor Hamm
(Milwaukee: Marquette Univesity Press, 1943), pp. 21-22.
7. Francis Bacon, Works, ed. James Spalding, Robert Ellis, and Donald Heath
(London: Longman and Co., 1857), 1:129-130.
11. This revolutionary aspect of the origins of modernity can be read in its
clearest and most synthetic form in the work of Spinoza. See Antonio Negri, The
Savage Anomaly, trans. Michael Hardt (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota
Press, 1991).
13. On these passages in European modernity, see Ernst Bloch, The Principle of
Hope, 3 vols., trans. Neville Plaice, Stephen Plaice, and Paul Knight
(Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 1986); and (in a completely different intellectual
and hermeneutic context) Reinhart Koselleck, Critique and Crisis: Enlightenment
and the Pathogenesis of Modern Society (Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 1988).
14. Samir Amin, Eurocentrism, trans. Russell Moore (New York: Monthly Review
Press, 1989), pp. 72-73.
15. Baruch Spinoza, Ethics, in The Collected Works of Spinoza, ed. Edwin Curley,
vol. 1 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1985), Part IV, Proposition 67,
p. 584.
17. Our discussion draws on the work of Ernst Cassirer, The Philosophy of the
Enlightenment, trans. Fritz C. A. Koelln and James P. Pettegrove (Princeton:
Princeton University Press, 1951); Max Horkheimer and Theodor Adorno, Dialectic
of Enlightenment, trans. John Cumming (New York: Continuum, 1972); and Michel
Foucault, "What Is Enlightenment?" in Ethics: Subjectivity and Truth, vol. 1 of
The Essential Works of Foucault 1954-1984, ed. Paul Rabinow (New York: New
Press, 1997), pp. 303-319.
20. See Antonio Negri, Descartes politico o della ragionevole ideologia (Milan:
Feltrinelli, 1970).
21. For a more recent example that continues along this transcendental line of
European complacency, see Massimo Cacciari, Geo-filosofia dell'Europa (Milan:
Adelphi, 1994).
22. See Arthur Schopenhauer, The World as Will and Representation, trans. E. F.
J. Payne, 2 vols. (New York: Dover, 1966).
25. Thomas Hobbes, The Elements of Law (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
1928), Part II, Book 10, paragraph 8, p. 150.
26. Jean Bodin, On Sovereignty: Four Chapters from the Six Books of the
Commonwealth, ed. and trans. Julian Franklin (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1992), p. 23 (from Book I, chap. 8).
30. See ArifDirlik, The Postcolonial Aura (Boulder: Westview Press, 1997).
31. Adam Smith, The Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations (Oxford:
Clarendon Press, 1976), Book IV, chap. ii, paragraph 9, p. 456.
32. Ibid., Book IV, Chapter ix, paragraph 51, p. 687.
36. See primarily Max Weber, Economy and Society, 2 vols., trans. Guenther Roth
and Claus Wittich (Berkeley: University of calif ornia Press, 1968).
37. Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus Spake Zarathustra, trans. Thomas Common (New York:
Modern Library, 1967), chap. 35, "The Sublime Ones," p. 111.
1. For an extensive analysis of both the common form and the variants throughout
Europe, see Perry Anderson, Lineages of the Absolutist State (London: New Left
Books, 1974).
2. See Ernst Kantorowicz, The King's Two Bodies: A Study in Medieval Political
Theology (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1957); and his essay "Christus-
Fiscus," in Synopsis: Festgabe f r Alfred Weber (Heidelberg: Verlag Lambert
Schneider, 1948), pp. 223-235. See also Marc Leopold Bloch, The Royal Touch:
Sacred Monarchy and Scrofula in England and France, trans. J. E. Anderson
(London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1972).
4. See Pierangelo Schiera, Dall'arte de governo alle scienze dello stato (Milan,
1968).
6. See tienne Balibar, "The Nation Form: History and Ideology," in tienne
Balibar and Immanuel Wallerstein, Race, Nation, Class (London: Verso, 1991), pp.
86-106. See also Slavoj Zizek, "Le rˆve du nationalisme expliqu‚ par le rˆve du
mal radical," Futur ant‚rieur, no. 14 (1992), pp. 59-82.
10. See Friedrich Meinecke, Die Idee der Staatsr„son in der neueren Geschichte
(Munich: Oldenbourg, 1924). See also the articles gathered by Wilhelm Dilthey in
Weltanschauung und Analyse des Menschen seit Renaissance und Reformation, vol. 2
of Gesammelte Schriften (Leipzig: Teubner, 1914).
11. With the notable exception of the work by Otto von Gierke, The Development
of Political Theory, trans. Bernard Freyd (New York: Norton, 1939).
12. See Friedrich Meinecke, Historicism: The Rise of a New Historical Outlook,
trans. J. E. Anderson (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1972).
13. To recognize the seeds of Hegel's idealism in Vico, see Benedetto Croce, The
Philosophy of Giambattista Vico, trans. R. G. Collingwood (New York: Russell and
Russell, 1964); along with Hayden White, "What Is Living and What Is Dead in
Croce's Criticism of vico," in Giorgio Tagliacozzo, ed., Giambattista Vico: An
International Symposium (Baltimore, Johns Hopkins University Press, 1969), pp.
379-389. White emphasizes how Croce translated Vico's work into idealist terms,
making Vico's philsophy of history into a philosophy of spirit.
14. See Giambattista Vico, De Universi Juris principio et fine uno, in Opere
giuridiche (Florence: Sansoni, 1974), pp. 17-343; and Johann Gottfried Herder,
reflections on the Philosophy of the History of Mankind, trans. Frank Manuel
(Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1968).
16. On the work of SieyŠs and the developments of the French Revolution, see
Antonio Negri, Il potere costituente: saggio sulle alternative del moderno
(Milan: Sugarco, 1992), chap. 5, pp. 223-286.
17. For an excellent analysis of the distinction between the multitude and the
people, see Paolo Virno, "Virtuosity and Revolution: The Political Theory of
Exodus," in Paolo Virno and Michael Hardt, eds., Radical Thought in Italy
(Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1996), pp. 189-210.
18. Thomas Hobbes, De Cive (New York: Appleton Century-Crofts, 1949), Chapter
XII, section 8, p. 135.
19. See tienne Balibar, "Racism and Nationalism," in tienne Balibar and
Immanuel Wallerstein, Race, Nation, Class (London: Verso, 1991), pp. 37-67. We
will return to the question of the nation in the colonial context in the next
chapter.
20. See, for example, Robert Young, Colonial Desire: Hybridity in Theory,
Culture, and Race (London: Routledge, 1995).
23. Well over one hundred years later Antonio Gramsci's notion of the national-
popular was conceived as part of an effort to recuperate precisely this
hegemonic class operation in the service of the proletariat. For Gramsci,
national-popular is the rubric under which intellectuals would be united with
the people, and thus it is a powerful resource for the construction of a popular
hegemony. See Antonio Gramsci, Quaderni del carcere (Turin: Einaudi, 1977),
3:2113-20. For an excellent critique of Gramsci's notion of the national-
popular, see Alberto Asor Rosa, Scrittori e popolo, 7th ed. (Rome: Savelli,
1976).
24. Johann Gottlieb Fichte, Addresses to the German Nation, trans. R. F. Jones
and G. H. Turnbull (Westport Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1979).
25. We should note that the various liberal interpretations of Hegel, from
RudolfHaym to Franz Rosenzweig, only succeeded in recuperating his political
thought by focusing on its national aspects. See Rudolf Haym, Hegel und sein
Zeit (Berlin, 1857); Franz Rosenzweig, Hegel und der Staat (Munich, 1920); and
Eric Weil, Hegel et l'‚ tat (Paris: Vrin, 1950). Rosenzweig is the one who best
understands the tragedy of the unavoidable connection between the nation and
ethicality in Hegel's thought. See Franz Rosenzweig, The Star of Redemption,
trans. Willaim Hallo (New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1971); and the
excellent interpretation of it, St‚phane Moses, SystŠme et r‚v‚lation: la
philosophie de Franz Rosenzweig (Paris: Seuil, 1982).
27. See Malcolm X, "The Ballot or the Bullet," in Malcolm X Speaks (New York:
Pathfinder, 1989), pp. 23-44. For a discussion of Malcolm X's nationalism,
particularly in his efforts to found the Organization of Afro-American Unity
during the last year of his life, see William Sales, Jr., From Civil Rights to
Black Liberation: Malcolm X and the Organization of Afro-American Unity (Boston:
South End Press, 1994).
28. Wahneema Lubiano, "Black Nationalism and Black Common Sense: Policing
Ourselves and Others," in Wahneema Lubiano, ed., The House That Race Built (New
York: Vintage, 1997), pp. 232-252; quotation p. 236. See also Wahneema Lubiano,
"Standing in for the State: Black Nationalism and 'Writing' the Black Subject,"
Alphabet City, no. 3 (October 1993), pp. 20-23.
31. Benedict Anderson maintains that philosophers have unjustly disdained the
concept of nation and that we should view it in a more neutral light. "Part of
the difficulty is that one tends unconsciously to hypostatize the existence of
Nationalism-with-a-big-N (rather as one might Age-with-a-capital-A) and then
classify 'it' as an ideology. (Note that ifeveryone has an age, Age is merely an
analytical expression.) It would, I think, make things easier ifone treated it
as ifit belonged with 'kinship' and 'religion,' rather than with 'liberalism' or
'fascism.'" Anderson, Imagined Communities, p. 5. Everyone belongs to a nation,
as everyone belongs to (or has) an age, a race, a gender, and so forth. The
danger here is that Anderson naturalizes the nation and our belonging to it. We
must on the contrary denaturalize the nation and recognize its historical
construction and political effects.
32. On the relationship between class struggle and the two World Wars, see Ernst
Nolte, Der Europ„ische B rgerkrieg, 1917-1945 (Frankfurt: Propyla ùen Verlag,
1987).
34. See Joseph Stalin, "Marxism and the National Question," in Marxism and the
National and Colonial Question (New York: International Publishers, 1935), pp.
3-61.
35. We adopt this term from, but do not follow in the political perspective of,
J. L. Talmon, The Origins of Totalitarian Democracy (London: Secker and Warburg,
1952).
2. Bartolom‚ de Las Casas, In Defense of the Indians, ed. Stafford Poole (De
Kalb: Northern Illinois University Press, 1974), p. 271. See also Lewis Hanke,
All Mankind Is One: A Study of the Disputation between Bartolom‚ de Las Casas
and Juan Gines de Sepulveda in 1550 on the Intellectual and Religious Capacity
of the American Indians (De Kalb: Northern Illinois University Press, 1974).
3. Quoted in C. L. R. James, The Black Jacobins, 2nd ed. (New York: Random
House, 1963), p. 196.
6. Karl Marx, Capital, trans. Ben Fowkes (New York: Vintage, 1976), 1:925.
7. Karl Marx, "The British Rule in India," in Surveys from Exile, vol. 2 of
Political Writings (London: Penguin, 1973), p. 306.
10. Karl Marx, "The Future Results of British Rule in India" in Surveys from
Exile, vol. 2 of Political Writings (London: Penguin, 1973), p. 320.
11. Aijaz Ahmad points out that Marx's description of Indian history seems to be
taken directly from Hegel. See Aijaz Ahmad, In Theory: Classes, Nations,
Literatures (London: Verso, 1992), pp. 231 and 241.
14. See Elizabeth Fox Genovese and Eugene Genovese, Fruits of Merchant Capital:
Slavery and Bourgeois Property in the Rise and Expansion of Capitalism (Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 1983), p. vii.
16. The relationship between wage labor and slavery in capitalist development is
one of the central problematics elaborated in Yann Moulier Boutang, De
l'esclavage au salariat: ‚conomie historique du salariat brid‚ (Paris: Presses
universitaries de France, 1998).
19. Franz Fanon, The Wretched of the Earth, trans. Constance Farrington (New
York: Grove Press, 1963), p. 38. On the Manichaean divisions of the colonial
world, see Abdul JanMohamed, "The Economy of Manichean Allegory: The Function of
Racial Difference in Colonialist Literature," Critical Inquiry, 12, no. 1
(Autumn 1985), 57-87.
21. Edward Said, Orientalism (New York: Vintage, 1978), pp. 4-5 and 104.
22. Cultural anthropology has conducted a radical self-criticism in the past few
decades, highlighting how many of the strongest early veins of the discipline
participated in and supported colonialist projects. The early classic texts of
this critique are G‚rard Leclerc, Anthropologie et colonialisme: essai sur
l'histoire de l'africanisme (Paris: Fayard, 1972); and Talal Asad, ed.,
Anthropology and the Colonial Encounter (London: Ithaca Press, 1973). Among the
numerous more recent works, we found particularly useful Nicholaus Thomas,
Colonialism's Culture: Anthropology, Travel, and Government (Princeton:
Princeton University Press, 1994).
25. An Inquiry into the causes of the insurrection of negroes in the island of
St. Domingo London and Philadelphia: Crukshank, 1792), p. 5.
26. See Paul Gilroy, The Black Atlantic (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University
Press, 1993), pp. 1-40.
27. See Franz Fanon, Black Skin, White Masks, trans. Charles Lam Markmann (New
York: Grove Press, 1967), pp. 216-222.
28. Jean-Paul Sartre, "Black Orpheus," in "What Is Literature?" and Other Essays
(Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1988), p. 296.
29. Jean-Paul Sartre, "Preface," in Fanon, The Wretched of the Earth, p. 20.
30. "In fact, negritude appears like the upbeat [le temps faible] of a
dialectical progression: the theoretical and practical affirmation of white
supremacy is the thesis; the position of negritude as an antithetical value is
the moment of negativity. But this negative moment is not sufficient in itself,
and these black men who use it know this perfectly well; they know that it aims
at preparing the synthesis or realization of the human being in a raceless
society. Thus, negritude is for destroying itself; it is a "crossing to" and not
an "arrival at," a means and not an end." Sartre, "Black Orpheus," p. 327.
33. See Malcolm X, "The Ballot or the Bullet," in Malcolm X Speaks (New York:
Pathfinder, 1989), pp. 23-44.
34. We should remember that within the sphere of communist and socialist
movements, the discourse of nationalism not only legitimated the struggle for
liberation from colonial powers but also served as a means of insisting on the
autonomy and differences of local revolutionary experiences from the models of
dominant socialist powers. For example, Chinese nationalism was the banner under
which Chinese revolutionaries could resist Soviet control and Soviet models,
translating Marxism into the language of the Chinese peasantry (that is, into
Mao Zedong thought). Similarly, in the subsequent period, revolutionaries from
Vietnam to Cuba and Nicaragua insisted on the national nature of struggles in
order to assert their autonomy from Moscow and Beijing.
35. Charter of the United Nations, Article 2.1, in Leland Goodrich and Edvard
Hambro, Charter of the United Nations (Boston: World Peace Foundation, 1946), p.
339.
36. Partha Chatterjee, Nationalist Thought and the Colonial World: A Derivative
Discourse? (London: Zed Books, 1986), p. 168.
CONTAGION
1. Louis-Ferdinand C‚line, Journey to the End of the Night, trans. Ralph Manheim
(New York: New Directions, 1983), p. 145 (translation modified); subsequently
cited in text.
2. See Cindy Patton, Global AIDS / Local Context, forthcoming; and John O'Neill,
"AIDS as a Globalizing Panic," in Mike Featherstone, ed., Global Culture:
Nationalism, Globalization, and Modernity (London: Sage, 1990), pp. 329-342.
1. Arif Dirlik, The Postcolonial Aura: Third World Criticism in the Age of
Global Capitalism (Boulder: Westview Press, 1997), pp. 52-83; quotation p. 77.
4. bell hooks, Yearning: Race, Gender, and Cultural Politics (Boston: South End
Press, 1990), p. 25.
10. See Edward Said, Culture and Imperialism (New York: Vintage, 1993), pp. 282-
303.
11. Edward Said, "Arabesque," New Statesman and Society, 7 (September 1990), 32.
16. Akbar Ahmed, Postmodernism and Islam (New York: Routledge, 1992), p. 32.
18. Robert Reich, The Work of Nations (New York: Random House, 1992), pp. 8 and
3.
19. See Arjun Appadurai, "Disjuncture and Difference in the Global Cultural
Economy," in Modernity at Large (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press,
1996), pp. 27-47.
20. See, for example, Jean Baudrillard, Selected Writings, ed. Mark Poster
(Oxford: Blackwell, 1988); and Umberto Eco, Travels in Hyper-reality, trans.
William Weaver (London: Picador, 1986), pp. 3-58.
24. See Avery Gordon, "The Work of Corporate Culture: Diversity Management,"
Social Text, 44, vol. 13, no. 3 (Fall/Winter 1995), 3-30.
25. See Chris Newfield, "Corporate Pleasures for a Corporate Planet," Social
Text, 44, vol. 13, no. 3 (Fall/Winter 1995), 31-44.
26. See Fredric Jameson, Postmodernism, Or, The Cultural Logic of Late
Capitalism (Durham: Duke University Press, 1991); and David Harvey, The
Condition of Postmodernity (Oxford: Blackwell, 1989).
1. Alexander Hamilton, James Madison, and John Jay, The Federalist, ed. Max
Beldt (Oxford: Blackwell, 1948), p. 37. This passage is from Federalist no. 9,
written by Hamilton.
5. See Polybius, The Rise of the Roman Empire, trans. Ian Scott-Kilvert
(Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1979), Book VI, pp. 302-352.
8. We are refering directly here to Max Weber, The Protestant Ethic and the
Spirit of Capitalism, trans. Talcott Parsons (New York: Scribner's, 1950); but
see also Michael Walzer, Exodus and Revolution (New York: Basic Books, 1985).
9. For detailed analyses of the conflicts within the Constitution, see primarily
Michael Kammen, A Machine That Would Go of Itself (New York: Knopf, 1986).
11. The combination of ref ormism and expansionism in the "Empire of Right" is
presented wonderfully by Anders Stephanson, Manifest Destiny: American Expansion
and the Empire of Right (New York: Hill and Wang, 1995).
12. Virgil, Ecologue IV, in Opera, ed. R. A. B. Mynors (Oxford: Clarendon Press,
1969), verses 4-5, p. 10. The original reads, "Ultima Cumaei uenit iam carminis
aetas; / magnus ab integro saeclorum nascitur ordo."
13. Bruce Ackerman proposes a periodization of the first three regimes or phases
of U.S. constitutional history. See We The People: Foundations (Cambridge,
Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1991), in particular pp. 58-80.
14. "What one shared above all was a sense of an entirely new kind of country,
uniquely marked by social, economic, and spatial openness." Stephanson, Manifest
Destiny, p. 28.
15. Marx explained the economic origins of the United States when analyzing the
American economist Henry Charles Carey. The United States is "a country where
bourgeois society did not develop on the foundation of the feudal system, but
developed rather from itself." Karl Marx, Grundrisse, trans. Martin Nicolaus
(New York: Vintage, 1973), p. 884. Marx also discusses the difference of
capitalist development in the United States (along with the other settler
colonies, such as Australia), in Capital, trans. Ben Fowkes (New York: Vintage,
1976), 1:931-940. For Tocqueville's analysis of the socioeconomic roots of the
United States, see Democracy in America, vol. 1, chaps. 2 and 3, pp. 26-54.
17. U.S. Constitution, Article I, section 2. On the three-fifths rule, see John
Chester Miller, The Wolf by the Ears: Thomas Jefferson and Slavery (New York:
Free Press, 1977), pp. 221-225.
19. On the emergence of the U.S. industrial working class as a powerful force in
the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, see David Brody, Workers in
Industrial America: Essays on Twentieth-Century Struggles (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 1980), pp. 3-47; Stanley Aronowitz, False Promises: The
Shaping of American Working-Class Consciousness (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1973),
pp. 137-166; and Bruno Ramirez, When Workers Fight: The Politics of Industrial
Relations in the Progressive Era, 1898- 1916 (Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press,
1978).
20. For a good analysis of the relationship between U.S. expansionism and
European imperialism in terms of foreign policy, see Akira Iriye, From
Nationalism to Internationalism: U.S. Foreign Policy to 1914 (London: Routledge
and Kegan Paul, 1977).
23. See Antonio Negri, "Keynes and the Capitalist Theory of the State," in
Michael Hardt and Antonio Negri, Labor of Dionysus (Minneapolis: University of
Minnesota Press, 1994), pp. 23-51.
24. The effects of Monroe's original declaration were ambiguous at best, and
Ernst May has argued that the doctrine was born as much from domestic political
pressures as international issues; see The Making of the Monroe Doctrine
(Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1975). The doctrine only really
became an effective foreign policy with Theodore Roosevelt's imperialist
campaigns, and particularly with the project to build the Panama Canal.
25. For the long history of U.S. military interventions in Latin America and
particularly in Central America, see Ivan Musicant, The Banana Wars: A History
of United States Military Intervention in Latin America (New York: Macmillan,
1990); Noam Chomsky, Turning the Tide: U.S. Intervention in Central America and
the Struggle for Peace (Boston: South End Press, 1985); Saul Landau, The
Dangerous Doctrine: National Security and U.S. Foreign Policy (Boulder: Westview
Press, 1988).
26. William Chafe poses 1968 as a shift of regime in the United States from the
perspective of a social historian: "Any historian who uses the word 'watershed'
to describe a given moment runs the risk of oversimplif ying the complexity of
the historical process. However, if the word is employed to signify a turning
point that marks the end to domination by one constellation of forces and the
beginning of domination by another, it seems appropriate as a description of
what took place in America in 1968." William Chafe, The Unfinished Journey:
America since World War II (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1986), p. 378.
Chafe captures precisely what we mean by a shift in the constitutional regime,
that is, the end of domination by one constellation of forces and the beginning
of domination by another. For Chafe's analysis of the republican spirit of the
movements, see pp. 302-342.
3. Ibid., p. 315.
4. On the relationship between modern metaphysics and political theory, see
Antonio Negri, The Savage Anomaly, trans. Michael Hardt (Minneapolis: University
of Minnesota Press, 1991).
8. For Los Angeles, see Mike Davis, City of Quartz (London: Verso, 1990), pp.
221-263. For Sa~o Paulo, see Teresa Caldeira, "Fortified Enclaves: The New Urban
Segregation," Public Culture, no. 8 (1996); 303-328.
9. See Guy Debord, Society of the Spectacle, trans. Donald Nicholson-Smith (New
York: Zone Books, 1994).
10. Francis Fukuyama, The End of History and the Last Man (New York: Free Press,
1992).
11. "We have watched the war machine . . . set its sights on a new type of
enemy, no longer another State, or even another regime, but 'l'ennemi
quelconque' [the whatever enemy]." Gilles Deleuze and F‚lix Guattari, A Thousand
Plateaus, trans. Brian Massumi (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press,
1987), p. 422.
12. There are undoubtedly zones of deprivation within the world market where the
flow of capital and goods is reduced to a minimum. In some cases this
deprivation is determined by an explicit political decision (as in the trade
sanctions against Iraq), and in other cases it follows from the implicit logics
of global capital (as in the cycles of poverty and starvation in sub-Saharan
Africa). In all cases, however, these zones do not constitute an outside to the
capitalist market; rather they function within the world market as the most
subordinated rungs of the global economic hierarchy.
14. See tienne Balibar, "Is There a 'Neo-Racism'?" in tienne Balibar and
Immanuel Wallerstein, Race, Nation, Class (London: Verso, 1991), pp. 17-28;
quotation p. 21. Avery Gordon and Christopher Newfield identify something very
similar as liberal racism, which is characterized primarily by "an antiracist
attitude that coexists with support for racist outcomes," in "White
Mythologies," Critical Inquiry, 20, no. 4 (Summer 1994), 737-757, quotation p.
737.
19. See Lauren Berlant, The Queen of America Goes to Washington City: Essays on
Sex and Citizenship (Durham: Duke University Press, 1997). On her formulation of
the reactionary reversal of the slogan "The personal is the political," see pp.
175-180. For her excellent analysis of the "intimate public sphere," see pp. 2-
24.
20. The liberal order of Empire achieves the kind of "overlapping consensus"
proposed by John Rawls in which all are required to set aside their
"comprehensive doctrines" in the interests of tolerance. See John Rawls,
Political Liberalism (New York: Columbia University Press, 1993). For a critical
review of his book, see Michael Hardt, "On Political Liberalism," Qui Parle, 7,
no. 1 (Fall/Winter 1993), 140-149.
21. On the (re)creation of ethnic identities in China, for example, see Ralph
Litzinger, "Memory Work: Reconstituting the Ethnic in Post-Mao China," Cultural
Anthropology, 13, no. 2 (1998), pp. 224-255.
REFUSAL
INTERMEZZO: COUNTER-EMPIRE
1. Gilles Deleuze and F‚lix Guattari, Anti-Oedipus, trans. Robert Hurley, Mark
Lane, and Helen Lane (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1983), p. 239.
2. One of the best historical accounts of the IWW is contained in John Dos
Passos's enormous novel USA (New York: Library of america, 1996). See also Joyce
Kornbluh, ed., Rebel Voices: an I.W.W. Anthology (Ann Arbor: University of
Michigan Press, 1964).
3. "It would be possible to write a whole history of the inventions made since
1830 for the sole purpose of providing capital with weapons against working-
class revolt." Karl Marx, Capital, trans. Ben Fowkes (New York: Vintage, 1976),
1:563.
4. On the changing relation between labor and value, see Antonio Negri, "Twenty
Theses on Marx," in Saree Makdisi, Cesare Casarino, and Rebecca Karl, eds.,
Marxism Beyond Marxism (New York: Routledge, 1996), pp. 149-180; and Antonio
Negri, "Value and Affect," boundary2, 26, no. 2 (Summer 1999).
7. Yann Moulier Boutang argues that the Marxian concept of the "industrial
reserve army" has proven to be a particularly strong obstacle to our
understanding the power of this mobility. In this framework the divisions and
stratifications of the labor force in general are understood as predetermined
and fixed by the quantitative logic of development, that is, by the productive
rationalities of capitalist rule. This rigid and univocal command is seen as
having such power that all forms of labor power are considered as being purely
and exclusively determined by capital. Even unemployed populations and migrating
populations are seen as springing from and determined by capital as a "reserve
army." Labor power is deprived of subjectivity and difference since it is
considered completely subject to the iron laws of capital. See Yann Moulier
Boutang, De l'esclavage au salariat (Paris: Presses universitaires de France,
1998).
10. The first passage is from Walter Benjamin, "Erfahrung und Armut," in
Gesammelte Schriften, ed. RolfTiedemann and Hermann Schweppenh„ussen (Frankfurt:
Suhrkamp, 1972), vol. 2, pt. 1, pp. 213-219; quotation p. 215. The second
passage is from "The Destructive Character," in reflections, ed. Peter Demetz
(New York: Schocken Books, 1978), pp. 302-303.
11. On the migrations of sexuality and sexual perversion, see Fran‡ois Peraldi,
ed., Polysexuality (New York: Semiotext(e), 1981); and SylvŠre Lotringer,
Overexposed: Treating Sexual Perversion in America (New York: Pantheon, 1988).
Arthur and Marilouise Kroker also emphasize the subversiveness of bodies and
sexualities that refuse purity and normalization in essays such as "The Last
Sex: Feminism and Outlaw Bodies," in Arthur and Marilouise Kroker, eds., The
Last Sex: Feminism and Outlaw Bodies (New York: St. Martin's Press, 1993).
Finally, the best source for experiments of corporeal and sexual transformations
may be the novels of Kathy Acker; see, for example, Empire of the Senseless (New
York: Grove Press, 1988).
12. On posthuman permutations of the body, see Judith Halberstam and Ira
Livingston, "Introduction: Posthuman Bodies," in Judith Halberstam and Ira
Livingston, eds., Posthuman Bodies (Bloomington: Indiana University Press,
1995), pp. 1-19; and Steve Shaviro, The Cinematic Body (Minneapolis: University
of Minnesota Press, 1993). For another interesting exploration of the potential
permutations of the human body, see Alphonso Lingis, Foreign Bodies (New York:
Routledge, 1994). See also the performance art of Stelarc, such as Stelarc,
Obsolete Body: Suspensions (Davis, Calif.: J. P. Publications, 1984).
13. The primary texts that serve as the basis for a whole range of work that has
been done across the boundaries of humans, animals, and machines are Donna
Haraway, Simians, Cyborgs, and Women: The Reinvention of Nature (New York:
Routledge, 1991); and Deleuze and Guattari, Anti-Oedipus, esp. pp. 1-8. Numerous
studies have been published in the 1990s, particularly in the United States, on
the political potential of corporeal nomadism and transformation. For three of
the more interesting feminist examples from very different perspectives, see
Rosi Braidotti, Nomadic Subjects: Embodiment and Sexual Difference in
Contemporary Feminist Theory (New York: Columbia University Press, 1994);
Camilla Griggers, Becoming-Woman in Postmodernity (Minneapolis: University of
Minnesota Press, 1996); and Anna Camaiti Hostert, Passing (Rome: Castelvecchi,
1997).
14. Control and mutation are perhaps the defining themes of Cyberpunk fiction.
It is sufficient to see the seminal text, William Gibson, Neuromancer (New York:
Ace, 1984). The most fascinating explorations of these themes, however, are
probably found in the novels of William Burroughs and the films of david
Cronenberg. On Burroughs and Cronenberg, see Steve Shaviro, Doom Patrols: A
Theoretical Fiction about Postmodernism (London: Serpent's Tail, 1997), pp. 101-
121.
15. This counsel against normalized bodies and normalized lives was perhaps the
central principle of F‚lix Guattari's therapeutic practice.
16. "The proletariat . . . appears as the heir to the nomad in the Western
world. Not only did many anarchists invoke nomadic themes originating in the
East, but the bourgeoisie above all were quick to equate proletarians and
nomads, comparing Paris to a city haunted by nomads." Gilles Deleuze and F‚lix
Guattari, A Thousand Plateaus, trans. Brian Massumi (Minneapolis: University of
Minnesota Press, 1987), p. 558, note 61.
17. See Antonio Negri's essay on Jacques Derrida's Specters of Marx, "The
Specter's Smile," in Michael Spinker, ed., Ghostly Demarcations (London: Verso,
1999) pp. 5-16.
2. Karl Marx, Grundrisse, trans. Martin Nicolaus (New York: Vintage, 1973), p.
408; subsequently cited in text. For Marx's discussion of the internal
"barriers" of capitalist production, see also Capital, vol. 3, trans. David
Fernbach (London: Penguin, 1981), pp. 349-375.
5. "The total mass of commodities, the total product, must be sold, both that
portion which replaces constant and variable capital and that which represents
surplus-value. If this does not happen, or happens only partly, or only at
prices that are less than the price of production, then although the worker is
certainly exploited, his exploitation is not realized as such for the capitalist
and may even not involve any realization of the surplus value extracted." Marx,
Capital, 3:352.
6. Ibid., 3:353.
10. Fernand Braudel, Capitalism and Material Life, 1400-1800, trans. Miriam
Kochan (New York: Harper and Row, 1973), p. 308.
14. Marx and Engels, Manifesto of the Communist Party (London: Verso, 1998), p.
40.
17. "Like the power of which it is the most global expression, imperialism is
not a notion that can form the object of any explicit definition that orginates
from economic concepts. Imperialism can only be grasped on the basis of a fully
developed theory of the state." Michel Aglietta, A Theory of Capitalist
Regulation, trans. David Fernbach (London: New Left Books, 1979), p. 30.
18. See primarily V. I. Lenin, Imperialism: The Highest Stage of Capitalism (New
York: International Publishers, 1939), and Notebooks on Imperialism, vol. 39 of
Collected Works (Moscow: Progress Publishers, 1977).
20. Karl Kautsky, "Zwei Schriften zum Umlernen," Die Neue Zeit, April 30, 1915,
p. 144. Excerpts from Kautsky's writings on imperialism are included in Karl
Kautsky: Selected Political Writings, ed. and trans. Patrick Goode (London:
Macmillan, 1983), pp. 74-96.
23. See Antonio Negri, La fabbrica della strategia: 33 lezioni su Lenin (Padua:
CLEUP, 1976).
26. It is particularly important to give credit where credit is due today, when
we seem to be confronted with numerous versions of historical revisionism. Poor
Gramsci, communist and militant before all else, tortured and killed by fascism
and ultimately by the bosses who financed fascism-poor Gramsci was given the
gift of being considered the founder of a strange notion of hegemony that leaves
no place for a Marxian politics. (See, for example, Ernesto Laclau and Chantal
Mouffe, Hegemony and Socialist Strategy: Towards a Radical Democratic Politics
[London: Verso, 1985], especially pp. 65-71.) We have to defend ourselves
against such generous gifts!
27. See Roman Rosdolsky, The Making of Marx's "Capital," trans. Peter Burgess
(London: Pluto Press, 1977).
28. On the missing volume on the wage, see Antonio Negri, Marx Beyond Marx,
trans. Harry Cleaver, Michael Ryan, and Maurizio Viano (New York: Autonomedia,
1991), pp. 127-150; and Michael Lebowitz, Beyond Capital: Marx's Political
Economy of the Working Class (London: Macmillan, 1992). On the question of the
existence of a Marxist theory of the state, see the debate between Norberto
Bobbio and Antonio Negri in Norberto Bobbio, Which Socialism? (Cambridge: Polity
Press, 1987).
CYCLES
1. "I occasionally get just as tired of the slogan 'postmodern' as anyone else,
but when I am tempted to regret my complicity with it, to deplore its misuses
and its notoriety, and to conclude with some reluctance that it raises more
problems than it solves, I find myselfpausing to wonder whether any other
concept can dramatize the issues in quite so effective and economical a
fashion." Fredric Jameson, Postmodernism, or, The Cultural Logic of Late
Capitalism (Durham: Duke University Press, 1991), p. 418.
2. Giovanni Arrighi, The Long Twentieth Century: Money, Power, and the Origins
of Our Times (London: Verso, 1994).
3. Ibid., p. 332.
2. John Maynard Keynes was perhaps the person with the clearest foresight at the
Versailles Conference. Already at the conference and then later in his essay
"The Economic Consequences of Peace," he denounced the political egotism of the
victors which would become one of the contributing factors to the economic
crisis of the 1920s.
8. The fundamental text that describes this development and anticipates its
results is Max Horkheimer and Theodor Adorno, Dialectic of Enlightenment, trans.
John Cumming (New York: Herder and Herder, 1972), which was written in the mid-
1940s. Numerous other works followed in the description of disciplinary society
and its implacable development as a "biopolitical society," works coming out of
different cultural and intellectual traditions but completely coherent in
defining the tendency. For the two strongest and most intelligent poles of this
range of studies, see Herbert Marcuse, One-Dimensional Man (Boston: Beacon
Press, 1964), for what we might call the Anglo-German pole; and Michel Foucault,
Discipline and Punish, trans. Alan Sheridan (New York: Pantheon, 1977), for the
Latin pole.
9. Freda Kirchwey, "Program of action," Nation, March 11, 1944, pp. 300-305;
cited in Serge Guilbaut, How New York Stole the Idea of Modern Art: Abstract
Expressionism, Freedom, and the Cold War, trans. Arthur Goldhammer (Chicago:
University of Chicago Press, 1983), p. 103.
10. On the spread of the New Deal model to the other dominant countries after
the Second World War, see Paul Kennedy, The Rise and Fall of the Great Powers:
Economic Change and Military conflict from 1500 to 2000 (New York: Random House,
1987), pp. 347-437; and Franz Schurmann, The Logic of World Power: An Inquiry
into the Origins, Currents, and Contradictions of World Politics (New York:
Pantheon, 1974).
11. On the history of the decolonization process in general, see Marc Ferro,
Histoire des colonisations: des conquˆtes aux ind‚pendences, XIIIe-XXe siŠcle
(Paris: Seuil, 1994); Frank Ansprenger, The Dissolution of the Colonial Empires
(London: Routledge, 1989); and R. F. Holland, European Decolonization, 1918-1981
(London: Macmillan, 1985).
13. Harry S. Truman, Public Papers (Washington, Dfic.: United States Government
Printing Office, 1947), p. 176; cited in Richard Freeland, The Truman Doctrine
and the Origins of McCarthyism (New York: Schocken, 1971), p. 85. On the rigid
bipolar ideological divisions imposed by the cold war, see again Kennedy, The
Rise and Fall of the Great Powers, pp. 373-395; and Schurmann, The Logic of
World Power.
14. On the decentering of manufacturing and service production (coupled with the
centralization of command), see two books by Saskia Sassen, The Mobility of
Labor and Capital: A Study in International Investment and Labor Flow
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988), especially pp. 127-133; and The
Global City: New York, London, Tokyo (Princeton: Princeton University Press,
1991), pp. 22-34. More generally, on the mobility of capital and the
countervailing or limiting factors, see David Harvey, The Limits to Capital
(Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1984), pp. 417-422.
15. See Wladimir Andreff, Les multinationales globales (Paris: La D‚couverte,
1995); and Kenichi Ohmae, The End of the Nation-State: The Rise of Regional
Economies (New York: Free Press, 1995).
18. Robert Sutcliffe, for example, writes, "No major country has yet become rich
without having become industrialized . . . Greater wealth and better living
standards under any political system are closely connected with
industrialization." Robert Sutcliffe, Industry and Underdevelopment (Reading,
Mass.: Addison-Wesley, 1971).
19. On global and peripheral Fordism, see primarily Alain Lipietz, Mirages and
Miracles: The Crises of Global Fordism, trans. David Marcey (London: Verso,
1987); and "Towards a Global Fordism?" New Left Review, no. 132 (1982), 33-47.
On the reception of Lipietz's work among Anglo-American economists, see David
Ruccio, "Fordism on a World Scale: International Dimensions of Regulation,"
Review of Radical Political Economics, 21, no. 4 (Winter 1989), 33-53; and Bob
Jessop, "Fordism and Post-Fordism: A Critical Reformulation," in Michael Storper
and Allen Scott, eds., Pathways to Industrialization and Regional Development
(London: Routledge, 1992), pp. 46-69.
20. See, for example, Giovanni Arrighi and John Saul, "Socialism and Economic
Development in Tropical Africa," in Essays on the Political Economy of Africa
(New York: Monthly Review Press, 1973), pp. 11-43; John Saul, "Planning for
Socialism in Tanzania," in Uchumi Editorial Board, ed., Towards Socialist
Planning (Dar Es Salaam: Tanzania Publishing House, 1972), pp. 1-29; and Terence
Hopkins, "On Economic Planning in Tropical Africa," Co-existence, 1, no. 1 (May
1964), 77-88. For two appraisals of the failure of economic development
strategies and planning in Africa (but which both still imagine the possibility
of an "alternative" socialist development), see Samir Amin, Maldevelopment:
Anatomy of a Global Failure (London: Zed Books, 1990), especially pp. 7-74; and
Claude Ake, Democracy and Development in Africa (Washington, Dfic.: The
Brookings Institution, 1996).
21. For an interesting personal account of the Bandung Conference and its
significance, see Richard Wright, The Color Curtain: A Report on the Bandung
Conference (New York: World, 1956). The major speeches delivered at the
conference are included in George McTurnan Kahin, The Asian-African Conference
(Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1956). On the nonalignment movement, see Leo
Mates, Nonalignment: Theory and Current Policy (Belgrade: Institute for
International Politics and Economics, 1972); and M. S. Rajan, Nonalignment and
Nonalignment Movement (New Delhi: Vikas Publishing, 1990).
22. On nomadism and the constitution of subjectivities, see Gilles Deleuze and
F‚lix Guattari, A Thousand Plateaus, trans. Brian Massumi (Minneapolis:
University of Minnesota Press, 1987), especially pp. 351-423.
23. On the formal and real subsumption in Marx, see primarily Karl Marx,
Capital, vol. 1, trans. Ben Fowkes (New York: Vintage, 1976), pp. 1019-38.
PRIMITIVE ACCUMULATIONS
1. Karl Marx, Capital, vol. 1, trans. Ben Fowkes (New York: Vintage, 1976), p.
918.
2. See primarily Samir Amin, Accumulation on a World Scale, trans. Brian Pearce
(New York: Monthly Review Press, 1974); and Andre Gunder Frank, Capitalism and
Underdevelopment in Latin America (New York: Monthly Review Press, 1967).
3. See the historical essays "Do You Remember Revolution?" written collectively
and "Do You Remember Counter-revolution?" by Paolo Virno in Paolo Virno and
Michael Hardt, eds., Radical Thought in Italy (Minneapolis: University of
Minnesota Press, 1996), pp. 225-259. See also Paolo Carpignano, "Note su classe
operaia e capitale in America negli anni sessanta," in Sergio Bologna, Paolo
Carpignano, and Antonio Negri, Crisi e organizzazione operaia (Milan:
Feltrinelli, 1976), pp. 73-97.
4. On the "welfare explosion of the 1960s," see Frances Fox Piven and Richard
Cloward, Regulating the Poor: The Functions of Public Welfare (New York:
Pantheon, 1971), in particular pp. 183-199. See also Piven and Cloward, The New
Class War: Reagan's Attack on the Welfare State and Its Consequences (New York:
Pantheon, 1982).
6. Claude Ake goes so far as to characterize the entire world capitalist system
as a conflict between "bourgeois countries" and "proletarian countries" in
Revolutionary Pressures in Africa (London: Zed Books, 1978), p. 11.
8. For a thorough historical account of the events and the protagonists at the
Bretton Woods Conference, see Armand Van Dormael, Bretton Woods: Birth of a
Monetary System (London: Macmillan, 1978). For a historical account that gives a
broader view of the comprehensive U.S. preparation for hegemony in the postwar
period by posing the economic planning at Bretton Woods together with the
political planning at Dumbarton Oaks, see George Schild, Bretton Woods and
Dumbarton Oaks: American Economic and Political Postwar Planning in the Summer
of 1944 (New York: St. Martin's Press, 1995).
9. Giovanni Arrighi, The Long Twentieth Century (London: Verso, 1994), p. 278-
279.
10. On the international financial crisis that began in the 1970s with the
collapse of the Bretton Woods mechanisms, see Peter Coffey, The World Monetary
Crisis (New York: St. Martin's Press, 1974); and Arrighi, The Long Twentieth
Century, pp. 300-324.
12. On the convertibility of the dollar and the Nixon maneuver in 1971, see
David Calleo and Benjamin Rowland, America and the World Political Economy:
Atlantic Dreams and National Realities (Bloomington: Indiana University Press,
1973), pp. 87-117; and Coffey, The World Monetary Crisis, pp. 25-42.
13. On the limits of Fordism and the need for capital to find a post-Fordist
schema of production and accumulaton, see Benjamin Coriat, L'atelier et le
robot: essai sur le fordisme et la production de masse … l'a^ge de
l'‚lectronique (Paris: Christian Bourgois, 1990).
14. Fredric Jameson argues that the social struggles of the 1960s in the First
World, particularly in the United States and France, follow in the line of (and
even derive from) the powerful decolonization and liberation movements in the
Third World during the 1950s and 1960s. See Fredric Jameson, "Periodizing the
60s," in Ideologies of Theory: Essays, 1971-1986 (Minneapolis: University of
Minnesota Press, 1988), 2:178-208, especially pp. 180-186.
15. See Giovanni Arrighi, "Marxist Century, American Century: The Making and
Remaking of the World Labor Movement," in Samir Amin, Giovanni Arrighi, Andre
Gunder Frank, and Immanuel Wallerstein, Transforming the Revolution: Social
Movements and the World System (New York: Monthly Review Press, 1990), 54-95.
18. In her effort to think the importance and real limits of the "outside," Rosa
Luxemburg may have been the first great ecological thinker of the twentieth
century. The best examples of Marxist ecological thought in authors such as
Andr‚ Gorz and James O'Connor adopt a form of argument similar to Luxemburg's
anti-imperialist position (although their work does not derive directly from
hers): capitalist production necessarily implies an expansion into and
destruction of nature, which not only has tragic consequences for life on the
planet but also undermines the future viability of capitalism itself. For Andr‚
Gorz, see Ecology as Politics, trans. Patsy Vigderman and Jonathan Cloud
(Boston: South End Press, 1980); for James O'Connor, see "Capitalism, Nature,
Socialism: A Theoretical Introduction," Capitalism, Nature, Socialism, 1, no. 1
(1989), 11-38.
19. "Late capitalism thus appears as the period in which all branches of the
economy are fully industrialized for the first time; to which one could further
add . . . the increasing mechanization of the superstructure." Ernest Mandel,
Late Capitalism, trans. Joris De Bres (London: Verso, 1978), pp. 190-191.
20. "This purer capitalism of our own time thus eliminated the enclaves of
precapitalist organization it had hitherto tolerated and exploited in a
tributary way." Fredric Jameson, Postmodernism, or, The Cultural Logic of Late
Capitalism (Durham: Duke University Press, 1990), p. 36.
21. We do not mean to suggest that capital can perpetually through technological
advances reconcile its destructive relationship with its (human and nonhuman)
environment. What technological advance can do is shift the terrain of conflict
and defer the crisis, but limits and antagonisms remain.
22. Stanley Aronowitz offers a useful reassessment of the panoply of U.S. social
movements in the 1960s in The Death and Rebirth of American Radicalism (London:
Routledge, 1996), pp. 57-90.
23. Again see Kelley, Race Rebels, especially pp. 17-100 on the hidden histories
of resistance.
24. On the history of the refusals posed by U.S. feminist movements in the 1960s
and 1970s, see Alice Echols, Daring to Be Bad: Radical Feminism in America,
1967-1975 (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1989).
25. See, for example, Judith Butler, "Merely Cultural," New Left Review, no. 227
(January-February 1998), 33-44. The most influential text for the political
interpretation of "new social movements" along these lines is Ernesto Laclau and
Chantal Mouffe, Hegemony and Socialist Strategy: Towards a Radical Democratic
Politics (London: Verso, 1985).
26. See Antonio Negri, The Politics of Subversion: A Manifesto for the Twenty-
first Century, trans. James Newell (Oxford: Polity Press, 1989).
27. Fredric Jameson, for example, argues that the collapse of the Soviet Union
was "due, not to its failure, but to its success, at least as far as
modernization is concerned." See his "Actually Existing Marxism," in Saree
Makdisi, Cesare Casarino, and Rebecca Karl, eds., Marxism Beyond Marxism
(London: Routledge, 1996), pp. 14-54; quotation p. 43. More generally on how
cold war propaganda (from both sides) blinded us to the real movements of social
history within the Soviet regime, see Moshe Lewin, The Making of the Soviet
System (New York: Pantheon, 1985).
28. See Leon Trotsky, The Revolution Betrayed, trans. Max Eastman (Garden City,
N.Y.: Doubleday, 1937); and Cornelius Castoriadis, Devant la guerre (Paris:
Fayard, 1981). See also a series of article by Denis Berger on the collapse of
the Soviet Union, "Perestroiùka: la r‚volution r‚ellement existante?" Futur
ant‚rieur, no. 1 (1990), 53-62; "Que reste-t-il de la perestroiùka?" Futur
ant‚rieur, no. 6 (1991), 15-20; and "L'Unione Sovi‚tique … l'heure du vide,"
Futur ant‚rieur, no. 8 (1991), 5-12.
29. It seems to us that one could make a parallel argument about the changing
social practices of the Chinese proletariat in the post-Mao era leading up to
the "Cultural Fever" movement in the 1980s. See Xudong Zhang, Chinese Modernism
in the Era of Reforms (Durham: Duke University Press, 1997). Zhang makes clear
the fabulous creativity released during this period.
3.4 POSTMODERNIZATION
1. The texts that set the terms for an enormous literature that debates the
periodization of the phases of modern production are Daniel Bell, Coming of
Post-industrial Society (New York: Basic Books, 1973); and Alain Touraine, Post-
industrial Society, trans. Leonard Mayhew (New York: Random House, 1971).
2. See Manuel Castells and Yuko Aoyama, "Paths towards the Informational
Society: Employment Structure in G-7 Countries, 1920-90," International Labour
Review, 133, no. 1 (1994), 5-33; quotation p. 13.
5. The discourse of development was an illusion, but it was a real and effective
illusion that established its own structures and institutions of power
throughout the "developing" world. On the institutionalization of development,
see Arturo Escobar, Encountering Development: The Making and Unmaking of the
Third World (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1995), pp. 73-101.
7. See, for example, Claude Ake, A Political Economy of Africa (Harlow, Essex:
Longman, 1981), p. 136. This is also the general framework presented in the work
of andre Gunder Frank and Samir Amin.
8. Robert Musil, The Man without Qualities, trans. Sophie Wilkins (New York:
Knopf, 1995), 2:367.
10. See Robert Chase and David Garvin, "The Service Factory," in Gary Pisano and
Robert Hayes, eds., Manufacturing Renaissance (Boston: Harvard Business School
Press, 1995), pp. 35-45.
11. See Castells and Aoyama, "Paths towards the Informational Society," pp. 19-
28.
12. Manuel Castells describes the most subordinated regions of the global
economy as a "Fourth World." See his essay "The Informational Economy and the
New International Division of Labor," in Martin Carnoy, Manuel Castells, Stephen
Cohen, and Fernando Enrique Cardoso, The New Global Economy in the Information
Age (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1993), pp. 15-43.
13. Castells and Aoyama, "Paths towards the Informational Society," p. 27.
15. On the comparison between the Fordist and Toyotist models, see Benjamin
Coriat, Penser … l'envers: travail et organisation dans l'entreprise japonaise
(Paris: Christian Bourgois, 1994). For a briefhistory of the early developments
of Toyota production methods, see Kazuo Wada, "The Emergence of the 'Flow
Production' Method in Japan," in Haruhito Shiomi and Kazuo Wada, eds., Fordism
Transformed: The Development of Production Methods in the Automobile Industry
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1995), pp. 11-27.
17. For a definition and analysis of immaterial labor, see Maurizio Lazzarato,
"Immaterial Labor," in Paolo Virno and Michael Hardt, eds., Radical Thought in
Italy (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1996), pp. 133-147. See also
the glossary entry on immaterial labor at the end of the same collection, p.
262.
19. Robert Reich, The Work of Nations: Preparing Ourselves for 21st-Century
Capitalism (New York: Knopf, 1991), p. 177. What is most important to Reich is
in fact that advantage-and finally national dominance-will be won in the global
economy along the lines of these new divisions, through the geographical
distribution of these high- and low-value tasks.
20. See Karl Marx, Capital, vol. 1, trans. Ben Fowkes (New York: Vintage, 1976),
pp. 131-137.
21. See Dorothy Smith, The Everyday World as Problematic: A Feminist Sociology
(Boston: Northeastern University Press, 1987), especially pp. 78-88.
22. Marx in his time conceived cooperation as the result of the actions of the
capitalist, who functioned like an orchestra conductor or a field general,
deploying and coordinating productive forces in a common effort. See Capital,
1:439-454. For an analysis of the contemporary dynamics of social and productive
cooperation, see Antonio Negri, The Politics of Subversion: A Manifesto for the
Twenty-first Century, trans. James Newell (Oxford: Polity Press, 1989).
23. See Saskia Sassen, The Global City: New York, London, Tokyo (Princeton:
Princeton University Press, 1991).
24. On the network enterprise, see Manuel Castells, The Rise of the Network
Society (Oxford: Blackwell, 1996), pp. 151-200.
25. Bill Gates, The Road Ahead (New York: Viking, 1995), p. 158.
28. Peter Cowhey, "Building the Global Information Highway: Toll Booths,
Construction Contracts, and Rules of the Road," in William Drake, ed., The New
Information Infrastructure (New York: Twentieth Century Fund Press, 1995), pp.
175-204; quotation p. 175.
29. On rhizomatic and arborescent structures, see Gilles Deleuze and F‚lix
Guattari, A Thousand Plateaus, trans. Brian Massumi (Minneapolis: University of
Minnesota Press, 1987), pp. 3-25.
1. For an analysis of the passages of Marx's and Engel's work that deal with the
theory of the state, see Antonio Negri, "Communist State Theory," in Michael
Hardt and Antonio Negri, Labor of Dionysus (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota
Press, 1994), pp. 139-176.
3. See Brian Gardner, The East India Company (London: Rupert Hart-Davis, 1971);
and Geoffrey Wheatcroft, The Randlords (New York: Atheneum, 1986).
7. There are numerous excellent critiques of the media and their purported
objectivity. For two good examples, see Edward Said, Covering Islam: How the
Media and the Experts Determine How We See the Rest of the World (New York:
Pantheon, 1981); and Edward Herman and Noam Chomsky, Manufacturing Consent: The
Political Economy of Mass Media (New York: Pantheon, 1988).
8. See, for example, Elise Boulding, "IGOs, the UN, and International NGOs: The
Evolving Ecology of the International System," in Richard Falk, Robert Johansen,
and Samuel Kim, eds., The Constitutional Foundations of World Peace (Albany:
SUNY Press, 1993), pp. 167-188; quotation p. 179.
10. James Petras, "Imperialism and NGOs in Latin America," Monthly Review, 49
(December 1997), 10-27.
11. See Polybius, The Rise of the Roman Empire, trans. Ian Scott-Kilvert
(Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1979), Book VI, pp. 302-352.
12. See G. A. Pocock, The Machiavellian Moment: Florentine Political Thought and
the Atlantic Republican Tradition (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1975).
15. Generally the analyses that come from the Left are the ones that insist most
strongly that the genesis of Empire activates the "bad" forms of government.
See, for example, tienne Balibar, La crainte des masses (Paris: Galil‚e, 1997),
a book which in other regards is extremely open to the analysis of the new
processes of the (mass) production of subjectivity.
16. For an analysis of these processes and a good discussion of the relevant
bibliography, see Yann Moulier Boutang, "La revanche des externalit‚s:
globalisation des ‚conomies, externalit‚s, mobilit‚, transformation de
l'‚conomie et de l'intervention publique," Futur ant‚rieur, no. 39-40 (Fall
1997), pp. 85-115.
17. It should be clear from what we have said thus far that the theoretical
condition underlying our hypotheses has to involve a radically revised analysis
of reproduction. In other words, any theoretical conception that regards
reproduction as simply part of the circulation of capital (as classical
economics, Marxian theory, and neoclassical theories have done) cannot deal
critically with the conditions of our new situation, particularly those
resulting from the political-economic relations of the world market in
postmodernity. Our description of biopower in Section 1.2 is the beginning of
such a revised analysis of reproduction. For the definition of some fundamental
elements that relate to the integration of labor, affect, and biopower, see
Antonio Negri, "Value and Affect" and Michael Hardt, "Affective Labor,"
boundary2, 26, no. 2 (Summer 1999).
18. We are refering once again to the work of Michel Foucault and to Gilles
Deleuze's interpretation of it. See our discussion in Section 1.2.
19. This first variable and the analysis of the functioning of the network in
constitutional terms relates in certain respects to the various autopoietic
theories of networks. See, for example, the work of Humberto Maturana and
Francisco Varela. For an excellent analysis of systems theory in the context of
postmodern theories, see Cary Wolfe, Critical Environments (Minneapolis:
University of Minnesota Press, 1998).
22. See Guy Debord, Society of the Spectacle, trans. Donald Nicholson-Smith (New
York: Zone Books, 1994); and Comments on the Society of the Spectacle (London:
Verso, 1990).
25. See Brian Massumi, ed., The Politics of Everyday Fear (Minneapolis:
University of Minnesota Press, 1993).
1. Gilles Deleuze and F‚lix Guattari, Anti-Oedipus, trans. Robert Hurley, Mark
Lane, and Helen Lane (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1983), p. 224.
7. See Michael Hardt, "The Withering of Civil Society," Social Text, no. 45
(Winter 1995), 27-44.
11. The classic work in this regard is Samir Amin's Accumulation on a World
Scale, trans. Brian Pearce (New York: Monthly Review Press, 1974).
12. See Mike Davis, City of Quartz: Excavating the Future in Los Angeles
(London: Verso, 1990), pp. 221-263.
13. Michel Aglietta has demonstrated clearly in structural terms the violent and
dictatorial powers of monetary regimes. See his La violence de la monnaie
(Paris: PUF, 1982). See also the essays in Werner Bonefeld and John Holloway,
eds., Global Capital, National State, and the Politics of Money (London:
Macmillan, 1995).
4.1 VIRTUALITIES
2. On the immanent relation between politics and ontology, see Antonio Negri,
The Savage Anomaly, trans. Michael Hardt (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota
Press, 1991); and Baruch Spinoza, Theologico-Political Treatise, in The Chief
Works of Spinoza, vol. 1, trans. R. H. M. Elwes (New York: Dover Press, 1951),
pp. 1-278.
3. On postmodern right and postmodern law, see Michael Hardt and Antonio Negri,
Labor of Dionysus (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1994), chap. 6,
pp. 217-261.
6. The measure of value means its orderly exploitation, the norm of its social
division, and its capitalist reproduction. Certainly Marx goes beyond Marx, and
one should never pretend that his discussions of labor and value are only a
discourse on measure: beyond value, labor is always the living power of being.
See Antonio Negri, "Twenty Theses on Marx," in Saree Makdisi, Cesare Casarino,
and Rebecca Karl, eds., Marxism Beyond Marxism (New York: Routledge, 1996), pp.
149-180.
8. On the virtual, see Gilles Deleuze and F‚lix Guattari, What Is Philosophy?,
trans. Hugh Tomlinson and Graham Burchell (New York: Columbia University Press,
1994); and Gilles Deleuze, Bergsonism, trans. Hugh Tomlinson and Barbara
Habberjam (New York: Zone, 1988), pp. 94- 103. Our conception of virtuality and
its relationship to reality is somewhat different from the one that Deleuze
derives from Bergson, which distinguishes between the passage from the virtual
to the actual and that from the possible to the real. Bergson's primary concern
in this distinction and in his affirmation of the virtual-actual couple over the
possible-real is to emphasize the creative force of being and highlight that
being is not merely the reduction of numerous possible worlds to a single real
world based on resemblance, but rather that being is always an act of creation
and unforeseeable novelty. See Henri Bergson, "The Possible and the Real," in
The Creative Mind, trans. Mabelle Andison (New York: Philosophical Library,
1946), pp. 91-106. We certainly do recognize the need to insist on the creative
powers of virtuality, but this Bergsonian discourse is insufficient for us
insofar as we also need to insist on the reality of the being created, its
ontological weight, and the institutions that structure the world, creating
necessity out of contingency. On the passage from the virtual to the real, see
Gilbert Simondon, L'individu et sa genŠse physicobiologique (Paris: PUF, 1964);
and Brian Massumi, "The Autonomy of Affect," Cultural Critique, no. 31 (Fall
1995), 83-109.
10. On the relation between the singular and the common, see Giorgio Agamben,
The Coming Community, trans. Michael Hardt (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota
Press, 1993).
11. See primarily Friedrich Nietzsche, On the Genealogy of Morals, trans. Walter
Kaufman and R. J. Hollingdale (New York: Vintage, 1967).
12. See Bernard Aspe and Muriel Combes, "Du vampire au parasite," Futur
ant‚rieur, no. 35-36 (1996), 207-219.
13. On the priority of resistance to power, see Gilles Deleuze, Foucault, trans.
Seaïn Hand (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1988), p. 89: "The final
word on power is that resistance comes first."
14. This dialectic of obstacle and limit, with respect to the power of the mind
on the one hand and political power on the other, was well understood by that
current of the phenomenology of subjectivity that (in contrast to the
Heideggerian current) recognized Nazism and thus the capitalist state as the
true limit of historical progress. From Husserl to Sartre we find the central
effort to transform limit into threshold, and in many ways Foucault takes up
this same line. See Edmund Husserl, Crisis of European Sciences and
Transcendental Phenomenology, trans. David Carr (Evanston, Ill.: Northwestern
University Press, 1970); Jean-Paul Sartre, Critique of Dialectical Reason,
trans. Quentin Hoare (London: Verso, 1990); and Deleuze, Foucault.
20. See Giorgio Agamben, Homo sacer: il potere sovrano e la nuda vita (Turin:
Einaudi, 1995).
22. Karl Marx, Capital, vol. 1, trans. Ben Fowkes (New York: Vintage, 1976), pp.
554-555.
23. Obviously when we speak about a materialist telos we are speaking about a
telos that is constructed by subjects, constituted by the multitude in action.
This involves a materialist reading of history which recognizes that the
institutions of society are formed through the encounter and conflict of social
forces themselves. The telos in this case in not predetermined but constructed
in the process. Materialist historians such as Thucydides and Machiavelli, like
the great materialist philosophers such as Epicurus, Lucretius, and Spinoza,
have never negated a telos constructed by human actions. As Marx wrote in the
introduction to the Grundrisse, it is not the anatomy of the ape that explains
that of humans but, vice versa, the anatomy of humans that explains that of the
ape (p. 105). The telos appears only afterwards, as a result of the actions of
history.
2. See Machiavelli, Discourses, trans. Leslie Walker (New Haven: Yale University
Press, 1950); and Antonio Negri, Il potere costituente (Milan: Sugarco, 1992),
pp. 75-96.
6. Friedrich Nietzsche, The Gay Science, trans. Walter Kaufman (New York: Random
House, 1974), p. 99 (sec. 24).
7. Friedrich Nietzsche, Werke, ed. Giorgio Colli and Mazzino Montinari (Berlin:
de Gruyter, 1967), vol. 8, pt. 1, p. 77; cited in Cacciari, Geo-filosofia
dell'Europa, p. 9. The original passage reads, "Ich habe den Geist Europas in
mich genommen-nun will ich den Gegenschlag thun!"
8. See Franz Rosenzweig, The Star of Redemption, trans. William Hallo (New York:
Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1971).
11. We are referring primarily to Gilles Deleuze, Michel Foucault, and Jacques
Derrida.
12. See Hans J rgen Krahl, Konstitution und Klassenkampf (Frankfurt: Neue
Kritik, 1971).
16. Gilles Deleuze often sings the praises of American literature for its
nomadism and deterritorializing powers. It seems that for Deleuze, America
represents a liberation from the closed confines of European consciousness. See,
for example, "Whitman" and "Bartleby, ou la formule," in Critique et clinique
(Paris: Minuit, 1993), pp. 75-80 and 89-114.
17. Serge Guilbaut, How New York Stole the Idea of Modern Art: Abstract
Expressionism, Freedom, and the Cold War, trans. Arthur Goldhammer (Chicago:
University of Chicago Press, 1983).
18. See Antonio Gramsci, "Americanism and Fordism," in Selections from the
Prison Notebooks, trans. Quintin Hoare and Geoffrey Nowell Smith (New York:
International Publishers, 1971), pp. 279-318.
19. Hannah Arendt has become a favorite author for political theorists in the
United States and Europe who want to reconceive politics. See, for example, the
essays in Bonnie Honig, ed., Feminist Interpretations of Hannah Arendt
(University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1995); and Craig Calhoun
and John McGowan, eds., Hannah Arendt and the Meaning of Politics (Minneapolis:
University of Minnesota Press, 1997).
2. Plotinus, Enneads, trans. Stephen MacKenna (London: Faber and Faber, 1956),
p. 63 (1.6.8).
3. On the military powers of Empire, see Manuel De Landa, War in the Age of
Intelligent Machines (New York: Zone, 1991).
6. Here we are following the intriguing etymology that Barbara Cassin gives for
the term "philosophy."
7. On the constitutive notion of the encounter, see Louis Althuser's late works
written after his confinement in the 1980s, in particular "Le courant souterrain
du mat‚rialisme de la rencontre," in ‚crits philosophiques et politiques, vol. 1
(Paris: STOCK/IMEC, 1994), pp. 539-579.
INDEX
administration: modern, 88-89, 99; 364-365; command over, 60, 314, 344-346, 392
imperial, 339-343 affect. See labor, affective black nationalism, 107-109 Bodin,
Jean, 84, 97-99 Agamben, Giorgio, 366 Ahmed, Akbar, 149 Bovillus, 72 Braudel,
Fernand, 225, 236 AIDS pandemic, 136 Althusser, Louis, 63-64, 91 Bretton Woods
accords, 244, 264-266 Bruno, Giordano, 77 American Revolution, 160-164, 381
Amin, Samir, 76-77, 334 Burke, Edmund, 104-105 Bush, George, 180 anarchists, 350
Anderson, Benedict, 95, 107 Caliban, 81-82 anthropology, 125-126, 187 Castells,
Manuel, and Yuko Aoyama, antihumanism, 91-92 286 apartheid, 125, 190-191, 194
C‚line, Louis-Ferdinand, 134-136 Appadurai, Arjun, 151 C‚saire, Aim‚, 117, 130
Appiah, Anthony, 138 Chaplin, Charlie, 159 architecture, 188, 190, 337
Chatterjee, Partha, 133-134 Arendt, Hannah, 163-164, 381, 387 Chiapas uprising,
54-56 Aristotle, 201, 356, 401 Christianity, 21, 36, 373 Arrighi, Giovanni, 238-
239 citizenship, global, 361, 400, 403 asystemic movements, 60 civil society,
25, 328-329; global, 7, Auerbach, Erich, 46 311 Augustine of Hippo, 207, 390,
393 Coetzee, J. M., 203-204 autonomists, 214 cold war, 178-182 autonomy of the
political, 307 colonialism, 70, 76-77, 114-129, axiomatic of capital, 326-327
199-200, 305-306; struggles against, 42-43, 106, 130-134; and the Bacon,
Francis, 72 Balibar, tienne, 192 United States, 170-171. See also
decolonization Bandung Conference, 107, 250 barbarians, 213-218 communication,
29, 32-35, 395, 404; among struggles, 54-59; in Bauer, Otto, 111 being-against,
210-214, 361 production, 289-298, 364-365 communications industries, 33, 346-347
Benjamin, Walter, 215, 377 Bhabha, Homi, 143-145 communism, 63, 237, 294, 350,
413 biopower, 23-27, 89, 389, 405-406; as community, 45, 145, 358; and the agent
of production, 29, 30, 32, nation, 95, 97, 106-108, 113 474 INDEX Conrad,
Joseph, 135 Dirlik, Arif, 86, 138 disciplinary government, 242-243, constituent
power, 47, 59, 63, 184-185, 358, 406, 410; in the U.S. 247-248, 250-254
disciplinary society, 22-24, 88-89, Constitution, 162, 165 cooperation, 294-296,
366-367, 329-332 discipline, 97, 158-159, 453n7; refusal 395-396, 401-402, 410-
411; abstract, 296 of, 260-262, 273-279 dispositif, 23, 63, 329-330 corporate
culture, 153 corporations, transnational, 31, 304-309 Duns Scotus, 71 Dutch East
India Company, 305 corruption, 20-21, 201-203, 389-392; cycle of, 163, 166 East
India Company, 305-306 courts, international and supra-Empire, definition of
concept, xiv-xv national, 38 English Revolution, 162 Cowhey, Peter, 298
Eurocentrism, 70, 76-77, 86, 120 crisis, 385-387; of institutions, event, 26,
28, 41, 49, 61, 411. See also 196-197; of Europe, 374-380. See singularity also
modernity, as crisis exception, state of, 16-17, 26, 39 cyberpunk, 216 exodus,
76, 212-214, 364, 367; cycles of struggles, 50-52, 54, 261 anthropological, 215-
217 Dante Alighieri, 71, 73 expansive tendency: of Empire, Davis, Mike, 337 166-
169; of capital, 222-228 Debord, Guy, 188-189, 321-323 exploitation, 43, 53,
208-210, 385 decentralization of production, 245-246, 294-297 Falk, Richard, 36
Declaration of Indepencence, 165, 169, family, 148, 197 171 Fanon, Franz, 124-
125, 129, 131-132 decline and fall of Empire, 20-21, fear, 323, 339, 388 371-374
Federalist, 161 decolonization, 245-246 feminist movements, 274 deconstruction,
47-48 Fichte, Johann Gottlieb, 105 Deleuze, Gilles, and F‚lix Guattari, 25,
Fordism, 240, 242, 247-248, 256, 409; 28, 193-194, 206-207, 210, 302, decline
of, 267-268; versus Toyota 326 model, 289-290 delinking, 206, 283-284 Foucault,
Michel, 13, 22-25, 28, Descartes, Ren‚, 79-80, 390 88-89, 327-330; and humanism,
desertion, 212-214 91-92; on the Enlightenment, De Sica, Vittorio, 158 183-184
deterritorialization, xii, 45, 52, 61, 124; Francis of assisi, 413 of
production, 294-297; operated by Frankfurt School, 25, 143 capital, 206, 326,
346-347. See also French Revolution, 101-102, 104, 113, lines of flight 117-118,
381 development theories, 282-284. See also Fukuyama, Francis, 189
underdevelopment theories fundamentalism, 146-150, 312, 399 diagram, 329-330
dialectics, 51-52, 187-188; of identity, Galileo Galilei, 72-73 103, 115, 127-
132; critique of, 140, Gates, Bill, 296 144-145, 359, 378-379 general intellect,
29, 364 INDEX 475 general will, 85, 88, 96 United States, 172, 177-179; Marxist
critiques of, 221-234, 270-272, 332 Genet, Jean, 109 Gibbon, Edward, 20-21, 371-
372 industrial reserve army, 447n7 Industrial Workers of the World, Gilroy,
Paul, 128 Gingrich, Newt, 348 207-208, 214, 412 information infrastructure, 298-
300 globalization, 3, 8-9, 32, 55, 136, 348, 362; from below, xv, 43-45, 52, 59
internationalism, 45-46, 49-50, 145 international relations, as academic
governmentality, 88, 327-328 Gramsci, Antonio, 233, 383 discipline, 141-142
Internet, 299 guaranteed income, 403 Guilbaut, Serge, 382-383 intervention and
sovereignty, 18, 35-38 Intifada, 54-56. See also Palestinians Italian economy,
288-289 Habermas, J rgen, 33-34, 404 Haitian revolution, 123, 128. See also
Jackson, Andrew, 168-169 L'Ouverture, Toussaint Jameson, Fredric, 154, 187, 272,
323 Harraway, Donna, 91, 218 Jefferson, Thomas, 168-169, 182, 381 Harvey, David,
154 justice, 18-19, 82, 356 Hegel, G. W. F., 42, 129, 328, 340, just war, 12,
36-37 375; on modern sovereignty, 81-84, 86-88, 90 Kant, Immanuel, 80-81, 183
Heidegger, Martin, 378 Kautsky, Karl, 229-231 Herder, J. G., 100-101 Kelsen,
Hans, 5-6, 8, 15 Hilferding, Rudolf, 226, 229-230 Keynes, John Maynard, 243
historia rerum gestarum. See res gestae Keynesianism, 242 historicism, 99-100
history: end of, 64, 189, 367-368; La Bo‚tie, tienne de, 204 suspension of, 11
labor, 358; immaterial, 29, 53, history, as academic discipline, 126 290-294;
abstract, 292; affective, Hobbes, Thomas, 7-8, 83-85, 87, 323, 292-293, 364-365
388; on the people, 102-103 Las Casas, Bartolom‚ de, 116 Hobson, John, 232
League of Nations, 175 homohomo, 72, 81, 204, 216 legitimation, 33-35, 38, 41,
89-90 homo tantum, 203-204 Lenin, V. I., 229-234 humanism, 77-78, 91-92, 285.
See also Levy, Pierre, 289 Renaissance humanism liberal politics, 188-189 human
rights, 107, 313 Lincoln, Abraham, 172 hybridity, 142-146, 216; management lines
of flight, 48, 123-124 of, 172; and constitution, 316-319 local versus global,
44-46, 362 Locke, John, 7-8 ideology, 404 Los Angeles rebellion, 54-56
immanence, 64, 77, 91-92, 157, 377, L'Ouverture, Toussaint, 116-118 402;
discovery of, 70-74; of modern love, 78, 186, 413 power, 82; of imperial power,
161, Lubiano, Wahneema, 108 164, 373-374; of capital, 326-329 Luhmann, Niklas,
13, 15 imperialism, 31, 265, 332; in contrast to Luxemburg, Rosa: on
nationalism, Empire, xii-xiii, 9, 166-167, 374; 96-97; critique of imperialism,
224, struggles against, 42-43, 58; and the 228, 233-234, 270, 333 476 INDEX
Machiavelli, Niccol•, 63-65, 90, 156, 79, 82, 87, 97; in contrast to the people,
103, 113, 194-195, 316, 344; 234, 308, 388; on ancient Rome, 15, powers of, 209-
218, 357-363; 162-163, 166, 372-374; on imperial corruption of, 391-392;
constituent power, 184-185 rights of, 396-407 Machiavellianism, 162-163 Musil,
Robert, 69-70, 284-285, 289 mafia, 37, 342 Malcolm X, 107-108, 132 naked life,
204, 366 management and organization theory, nation, modern concept of, 93-105
152-153 nationalism, struggles against, 42-43. manifesto, 63-66 See also black
nationalism; subaltern market, 86. See also world market nationalism marketing,
151-152 nationalist socialism, 111-113 Marsilius of Padua, 73 national
liberation struggles. See Marx, Karl, 43, 57, 62, 185, 206, colonialism,
struggles against 349-350, 363, 367; on British nation-state, xi-xii, 43, 109-
110, 236, colonialism, 118-120; on the United 335-336 States, 168-169; on
capitalist nation-states, system of, 40, 310-311 expansion, 221-224; the missing
Native Americans, 169-171 volumes of Capital, 234-237; on natural right
theories, 99 capitalist crisis, 261, 266-267; theory n‚gritude, 130-131 of
value, 355. See also general network power, 161-163 intellect; subsumption,
formal and network production, 294-297 real; Vogelfrei New Deal, 51, 176, 180,
381; on global Marx, Karl, and Friedrich Engels, level, 241-244, 265 63-65, 226,
304 New Left, 179 mass intellectuality, 29, 410 new social movements, 275
measure of value, 86, 354-359, 392 Nicholas of Cusa, 71-72 media, the, 311-312,
322-323 Nietzsche, Friedrich, 90, 213, 359, 375, 378 Melville, Herman, 203-204
Nixon, Richard, 266 militant, the, 411-413 nomadism, 76, 212-214, 362-364
miscegenation, 362-364 non-governmental organizations mobility of populations,
213, 253, 275, (NGOs), 35-37, 312-314 344: and suffering, 154-155; right to,
non-place of power, 188, 190, 203, 396-400 210, 319, 353, 384; and construction
modernity, 46-47, 69-74; as crisis, of a new place, 216-217, 357 74-78, 90, 109;
postmodernist non-work, 273 critique of, 140-143, 155 nuclear weapons, 345-347
modernization, 249-251, 280-281, 284-286 omni-crisis, 189, 197, 201 money, 346-
347 ontology, 47-48, 62, 206, 354-364; Monroe Doctrine, 177-178 absence of, 202,
391 Montesquieu, 20-21, 371-372 outside versus inside, 45, 183-190, More,
Thomas, 73 353-354, 444n5; of capitalist Morris, William, 50 development, 221-
228, 233-234, Moulier Boutang, Yann, 123-124 257-258 multitude, 60-66, 73-74,
90, 161, 164, overproduction and underconsumption, 353; negated by modern
sovereignty, 222-225, 449n3 INDEX 477 Palestinians, 109 reproduction, social,
28, 64, 85, 273-274, 385, 465n17. See also parasitical nature of Empire, 359-361
Pascal, Blaise, 79-80 biopower republicanism, 184, 208-218 peace, 19, 75, 83,
94, 181, 189; as virtue of Empire, 10-11, 14, 60, res gestae, 47-48, 52, 61, 63,
368-369 rhizome, 299, 397 167, 353 people, the, 102-105, 194-195, Rhodes, Cecil,
228, 232 right and law, 17; international, 4, 311-314, 316; decline of, 344, 411
Persian GulfWar, 12, 13, 180, 309 9-10, 14, 33, 38; supranational, 9-10, 16, 17;
imperial, 21, 62 philosophy, 48-49 Pico della Mirandola, Giovanni, 72 rights.
See multitude, rights of Roman Empire, 10, 20-21, 163, 166, place-based
movements, 44 Pocock, J. G. A., 162 298, 314-315, 371-373 Roman Republic, 162-
163 police, 12, 17-18, 20, 26, 87; and imperial intervention, 37-39, 189
Roosevelt, Franklin Delano, 242, 348 Roosevelt, Theodore, 174-175, 177,
political theory, 63, 388 Polybius, 163, 166, 314-316, 371 242 Rosenzweig,
Franz, 377 posse, 407-411 postcolonialist theories, 137-139, Rousseau, Jean-
Jacques, 85, 87, 303 royal prerogatives of sovereignty, 143-146 post-Fordism,
55, 409-410 38-39, 343, 360 posthuman, 215 Said, Edward, 125, 146 postmodernist
theories, 137-143 Sartre, Jean-Paul, 129-131 postmodernity, 64-65, 187, 237
Schmitt, Carl, 16, 377-378, 463n6 postmodernization, 272, 280-282, Schopenhauer,
Arthur, 81-82 285-289 secularism, 71-73, 91, 161 poverty, 156-159 segmentations,
social, 336-339 Prakash, Gyan, 146 service economies, 286-287, 293 primitive
accumulation, 94, 96, SieyŠs, Emmanuel-Joseph, 101, 104, 256-259, 300, 326 113
progressivism, 174-176 singularity, 57, 61, 73, 78, 87, 103, proletariat, 49-50,
63, 256-257, 402; 395-396, 408. See also event defined, 52-53 slavery, 120-124,
212; in the United property, private and public, 300-303, States, 170-172, 177
410 Smith, Adam, 86-87 smooth space, 190, 327, 330 racism: modern, 103, 191-195;
imperial, 190-195 socialist discipine, 214 social wage, 403 Rahman, Fazlur, 148-
149 Rawls, John, 13, 15 society of control, 23-27, 198, 318-319, 329-332
reappropriation, 404-407, 411 reciprocity, 131-132 sovereignty: modern, 69-70,
83-90; national, 95-105; in conflict with refusal, 203-204, 208-209 Reich,
Robert, 150-151, 291-292 capital, 325-328 Soviet Revolution, 123, 133, 176-177,
Renaissance humanism, 70-74, 76, 91, 115, 140, 162, 164, 356 240-241
representation, 84-85, 104-105, 125, Soviet Union, collapse of, 179, 214, 134
276-279 478 INDEX spectacle, 321-323, 347 Tocqueville, Alexis de, 163, 168-169,
375 Spinoza, Baruch, 65-66, 91-92, 185-186, 204, 359; on immanence,
totalitarianism, 112-113, 278 transcendental apparatus, 78-85, 73, 77-78 Stalin,
Joseph, 112 164-165; as the state, 325-329 translation, 50-51, 57 state:
patrimonial and absolutist, 93-95; modern, 90, 134; capitalist; 232-233, Truman,
Harry S., 249 truth, 155-156 235-237, 242, 304-309. See also transcendental
apparatus ultra-imperialism, 230-231 strikes: France, 54-56; South Korea,
underdevelopment theories, 283-284 54-56 United Nations, 4-6, 8, 18, 31, 40,
structuralism, 28 132, 181, 309 subaltern nationalism, 105-109, U.S.
constitutional history, phases of, 132-134, 335-336 167-168 subjectivity,
production of, 32, 52, 195-197, 321, 331, 378; new circuits variable capital,
294, 405 of, 269, 275, 402 Versailles Conference, 241 subsumption, formal and
real, 25, Vico, Giambattista, 100 255-256, 271-272, 317, 364, 386 Vietnam War,
178-179, 260, 275 superstition, 323 Virgil, 167 superstructure, 27, 30, 385-386
virtual, 357-360, 366 surplus value, realization of, 222-224 Vogelfrei, 157-158
tactics and strategy, 58-59, 63 Wallerstein, Immanuel, 334 Taylorism, 240, 242,
247-248, Weber, Max, 41, 88-90, 340, 377 255-256, 267-268, 383, 409 welfare
state, 301 teleology, 51-52, 100, 165, 383; William of Occam, 73 materialist,
63-66, 368, 395-396, Wilson, Woodrow, 174-176, 180, 242 403-407, 470n25
Wittgenstein, Ludwig, 378-379 temporality, 401-403 working class, industrial,
53, 256, 402 Thatcher, Margaret, 348 world market, 150-154, 190, 235-237, Third
Worldism, 264 251-256, 310, 332-335; construction Third World versus First
World, xiii, of, 221-222, 346. See also delinking 253-254, 263-264, 333-335,
World War I, 233 362-363 World War II, 243 Thucydides, 182 Tiananmen Square
events, 54, 56 Zavattini, Cesare, 158