On distance

Archive Fever

May 6, 2008 · 1 Comment

To read, as if for the first time.


A review of Archive Fever – Uses of the Document in Contemporary Art – International Center of Photography, New York. January 18- May 4 2008.

A few months ago messages went around the internet, saying things like “The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid, it dseno’t mtaetr in waht oerdr the ltteres in a wrod are, the olny iproamtnt tihng is taht the frsit and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae.”

In comparison to the way we scan web pages or typed print, reading handwritten pages in an archive is a curiously intimate experience. It is not just that often, such as in the colonial records from Mathari mental hospital shown in the photograph below, the English used is archaic, it is also that reading handwriting far removed from you in space and time proves oddly difficult. In the records I was looking at, the scrawled pen of the doctors on the reports of Mau-Mau insurgents became oddly personal. I grew to recognise the way certain f’s curled, began searching for deviations in handwriting, in the sense of the records. It was as if I was reading for the first time, recognising that actually, none of the words made sense, and the struggle for comprehension – of a different time, of a different person – had to begin anew.

The Cobweb

The difficulty in understanding the handwriting of a colonial doctor fifty years points to a difficulty with the archive that does not lessen if the archive in question is composed of images, videos, or the printed word. In each case, there is a handwriting; a subjectivity in the archive that cannot be understood simply in terms of the formal rules in which the archive is embedded.

The archive’s resistance to itself is one of the principle focuses of Okwui Enwezor’s latest exhibition. As you descend into the mazy warren of rooms beneath the International Center for Photography, one is immediately confronted by Christian Boltanski’s Lessons of Darkness: Archives: Detective. A series of boxes, each with a picture on the front: the context of the images suggests that these are the mug-shots of criminals – the left over case files of a tired policeman. In fact, we have no way of knowing if these images are fictional: those of the victim of a crime, those of the criminal, or just snapshots of random people, arranged in such a way as to depict them as criminals.

Let us try a brief thought experiment. I construct a fictional person: find a possible name, make sure he or she has a believable history of social services payments, insert a record of these payments into the relevant government records, and ensure our fictional character worked for a conveniently defunct organisation with few other employees. It is perfectly possible to create a ‘real’ archival person in such a fashion: because we construct our character in terms of the rules of the archive, he is not disprovable within the domain of the archive itself. These rules include both the formal rules, such as where a signature should be placed on a document, but equally the informal forms of life present in the archive: we should ensure that our fictional character has a nice median income as taken as an average of the archive, so as not to arouse suspicion.

Now imagine an archive where every single character is fictional.

This is actually the case of every archive. For in our entirely fictional archive, all we could ever do – without correlation from outside the archive – is prove that each record was faulty, contained contradictions to other records, without ever proving the fiction of the entire archive.

Many of the exhibits in Archive Fever play with these notions, exploring the sense in which the archive is a fiction of its own – in a more academic language, that recalls the Foucault of The Order of Things, we would say that the archive is the systematisation of its own enunciability.

The artist here, at least intuitively, works in a similar manner to the historian. As Carlo Ginzburg sets out in Clues, Myths, and the Historical Method, the historian searches the archive, not for confirmation of what is already known, but for clues; glimpses of the past that rupture our expected sense of history. Such is the case with Andy Warhol’s Race Riot (c.a.1963), a series of silkscreen paintings made from Charles Moore’s photographic essays for Life magazine of the riots in Alabama.

Andy Warhol Race Riot

In the original image, the violence is arresting: the intensity of the image focuses on the dog, the bite: the moment of contact. In the silkscreen version, the distinctions leak away; the dog is as white as the background, the immediate violence recedes into an abstract geometry of white and black. Despite himself, Warhol produces an exemplary Marxist artwork, where the moment of violence is reworked in terms of its structural conditions. The violence of the police dog biting the protestor is unsettling, Race Riot suggests, not because of the immediate violence suggested by the archival image, but because this violence is normal, part of a broader political economy of structural and racial violence that endures long after the wound of the bite has faded. The canvas here is absolutely incommensurable with its background

(the photograph, the context in Alabama) – it opens up a space between the photograph and its archival meaning that allows us to look at our history again in a new light.

Race Riot is perhaps the purest example of this sort of artistic practice in Archive Fever, but other artworks function in an analogous fashion, Glenn Ligon’s reworking of Mapplethorpe’s images of black men in the The Black Book opening up a space where we can destabilise the underlying eroticism of the images. Constantly, the artworks test the rules of the archive, opening up new meanings, destabilising others, creating fictions that function as truths: both within the system of the archive, and in those wonderful moments, such as in Race Riot, where they break through the truth of the archive to reveal the structural inequality revealed behind the rules of the archive, that in this case present a moment of violence as singular, rather than embedded within a broader system of racial discrimination.

Individual works are successful in doing this, but as a whole, the exhibition functions as a collection of parts. Too many works, such as Hans-Peter Feldmann’s collection of front pages from around the world on 9/12/2001, are merely surface reflections of the phenomenon they mean to explore. In Feldmann’s case, the collection demonstrates a powerful proof that history has become merely the manifestation of its own spectacle, but allows us no way to puncture this, to move through this in the powerful way Race Riot allows for the events of Alabama.

More important than the failure of individual works however, is that the exhibition offers no serious self-criticism. It is astonishing that an exhibition that deals with the archive – with the arranging and ordering of material – offers no thought on how the art world arranges its own materials. Such a reflection should include on how such work came to be given a (fictional) coherency in the exhibit, how, for instance, Felix Gonzalez-Torres’ piece has now moved through three exhibitions (at least) to inhabit the space at the International Center for Photography. On the sign at the beginning of the exhibition, Enwezor claims to be constructing a meta-commentary on the archive. To do so properly would have meant analysing the process of archive construct in the exhibit itself; this would have allowed the works to live together, rather than seeming to be a collection of parts.

Mal d’archive

Thankfully, the archive offers a model for understanding more than simply the rules of its own creation. That is does so is suggested by the title, Archive Fever, a silent homage to Derrida’s book Archive Fever: A Freudian Impression (the book is mentioned nowhere in the exhibit, though if you look hard on the website, you can find one mention of Derrida’s name).

While I would not want to criticise Eric Prenowitz valiant translation, the original French title, Mal d’archive, is much more suggestive that the phrase Archive Fever would allow. The mal of the title suggests not simply fever, but illness, and also, something malicious: tu me fais mal. There are at least three mal’s suggested by Derrida’s title.

There is the feeling of finding something unpleasant in the archive – the discovery, for instance, of someone’s hidden Nazi past, or of a letter your lover wrote to his mistress. Mal d’archive – something that burns us if we read it. Exemplary of this sense of the archive is Anri Sala’s video work Intervista (1998). A detective story of Communist Albania, it charts Anri Sala as he struggles to decode a lost video of his mother at a Communist party meeting, the lip reader he employs at the end to give life to her words is the paradigmatic example of the archive’s burning power.

Why do we look, if this is what we will find? The incessant compulsion we have to look through our own records, to desperately search for something that we know will cause us pain, is one if fevers of the archive to which Derrida’s title alludes. It is perhaps closest to Derrida’s own understanding of the archive as not the construction of a system, but its disjuncture with itself; the archive occurring at the breakdown of memory, when we realise the archive for what it is, a fiction constructed according to rules of which we are only dimly aware.

Aware, however, we are, and this dissatisfaction with our own memories conditions our search for their disruption. Ilán Lieberman’s uses of the archive in his work Niño Perdido (Lost Child, 2006–7) is a poignant reflection on this search. His pain-staking drawings of photographs of missing children function as pre-obituaries. Whereas the archival photographs of the children function to present an absence, and in so doing makes this absence only more apparent (the double death of the photograph), his drawings mark a dissatisfaction with the archive, a search for life in those photographs that mark an endless mourning for what is absent. In so doing, they also work as a commentary on the nature of the photograph itself. The photographic moment, as commentators from Barthes to Sontag have remarked, is always dead, lost, and what we have, when we hold the photograph in our hands, is a small testament to this death. By redrawing the photographs of missing children, Lieberman adds a density to the images that denies the finitude of the moment, which asserts, against the mute equivalence of the archive, the hope of redemption.

Looking at his photographs reminded me of Afghan miniatures from the Timurid dynasty in Herat.

Timurid Dynasty

Each miniature was supposed to be an exact copy of those that had gone before it; the labour involved was painstaking and exact. So exact, that many miniaturists went blind, and it was only then, when they were thought to be apart from the temptations of innovation and the tricks of vision, that they could paint pure replicas and embody the essential truth of the work. Such refusal of the evident truth of the archive, and insistence on the work of time present in the artwork, is embodied in the quiet determination of Lieberman’s images.

The actual images from Afghanistan in the exhibition are perhaps the worst work on display. Fazal Sheikh’s photographs of Afghan refugees holding small portraits of young men are gestural images that left this reviewer with just one burning question: what strange obsession leads us to collect these images, to parade these private archives in public (at Sheikh has also done with images from Kenya, Somalia, Brazil, Sudan…the list is endless)

Sheikh

This is perhaps the most pressing sense of mal d’archive – not the pain the archive inflicts on us, nor the unsettling search for the disruption of the archive within itself, but the feverish making of the archive. What compels us to keep accumulating images and documents, images of images, documents about documents – to keep arranging and sorting the fragments of our memory?

The work of art distorts – it transforms materials that we think we know, that we classify and understand, and transports them to a singular place. The effacement of aura we see in the photograph does nothing to reduce this fundamental magic. The photograph opens up new horizons on what is shown on its surface just as the painting does for the material forms from which it is constructed. Given this rupturing effect of the artwork, one would expect an exhibition on the archive to attend to the question of our fanatical compulsion to store documents and images, arranging them in patterns: our search to give order to existence.

That the exhibition does not offer us a meditation on this is perhaps not surprising when we remember that it offers no commentary on its own archive – its practice of taking disparate materials and transforming them into yet another Enwezor exhibition. As a counterpoint to our story, I can offer only an image, and the brief poignant story that lies below it. In this story, the compulsive need of the Guatemalan police to preserve the documents that incriminate them stands in testament to the importance of questioning our compulsion to archive, and attests to the opportunity that Archive Fever missed. Mal d’archive, indeed.

Guatemala

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The Future Never Arrives

May 6, 2008 · Leave a Comment

The future never arrives

On gesture in the world[1]

To Milwaukee, Racine, Southport, and Chicago. – We hail you by lightning as fair sisters of West. Time has been annihilated. Let no element of discord divide us. May your prosperity as heretofore be onward. What Morse has devised and Speed joined let no man put asunder.[2]

Time has been annihilated. As early as 1848, and the onset of the telegraph, came the claim that from now on, duration and distance will no longer exist. We could tell a history of modernism that charted the course of the world from this moment as one of greater and greater abstraction, as “all that is solid melts into air” (Marx:2002:48)[3]. Such a history would have globalisation as a further intensification of the process of modernism: rather than places, we have equivalences – as capitalism renders cultures exchangeable, different only within a prefigured system of value. Rather than the body and particular expressions, we have capital, circulating freely through fibre-optic cables.

Given this movement towards greater abstraction, Fig. I, a snapshot from a film made just over a hundred years after a telegram is sent announcing the annihilation of time, poses a quandary.

Antonioni’s depiction of modern alienation, L’Eclisse[4], centres on the bustle of the stock market in Rome. Here, at the centre of the capitalist universe, in the place, or the non-place, we expect to find the abstraction of money in its purest form; we find, instead, the gesture. Not simply the body at the heart of capitalism[5]: a particular gesture, singular to a place and a local economy of signification at odds with capital’s abstractive power.

In her ethnography of the stock markets in Chicago and London, Zaloom (2006:51-72) explains the gestural language of the Chicago Board of Trade (CBOT). The hand is turned inwards to show a desire to buy, outwards, to sell. One to five is signalled as one might expect, 6-9 by turning the hand sideways. Zero is a closed fist. The figure of the man on the stock market (and it is almost always a man): he is not the globe, nor yet is he globalisation: he is in a world, a particular one, which denotes customs and conventions that have no simple relationship to capitalism – the conventions, for instance, of gestural communication, the customs of Italian, and indeed Roman, personal relations. Furthermore, all these customs and conventions should not be seen as being contrary to capitalism; rather, they emerge through it: only through the market: the gestures, only through state capitalism: the personal relations.

At the centre of capitalism, there is a flurry of arms. How we understand these gestures is the central problematic of this essay.

Figure I: Still from Antonioni, Michaelangelo. L’Eclisse (1962).

I. the world has disappeared

In hypermodernity, Augé claims (1995:75-116), people increasingly come to know the world through signs of things, rather than through things in themselves; through a small town and its signs for shops and tourist attractions, glimpsed from a motorway, rather than through the town itself. The world’s financial markets offer superficial confirmation of such a claim. In March 2004, for instance, out of the 51 million contracts sold at the CBOT, only 3% ended up in the delivery of a material good (Zaloom:97); in such a market signs – in this case, money – have an (almost)[6] entirely autonomous existence from the material goods to which they supposedly refer.

A narrative that sees the increasing prevalence of signs over what might once have been called use-value is common to many accounts of globalisation, Augé included. However, what is frequently occluded is the degree to which these narratives are continuous with what commentators like Georg Simmel believed was happening in modernity. In his celebrated essay, The Metropolis and Mental Life, Simmel (1971[1903]:324-339) sets out the distinction between village life, with its relationships based on emotion, and the rational life of the city:

All emotional relationships between persons rest on their individuality, whereas intellectual relationships deal with persons as with numbers, that is – as with elements which, in themselves, are indifferent, but which are of interest only insofar as they offer something objectively perceivable (ibid:326).

For Simmel, the intensification of stimulus in the city, combined with the presence of strangers, means people increasingly dealt with each other as abstract and equivalent categories.

In Simmel, money provides the means by which people are abstracted from themselves. In Augé, money is replaced by the notion of sign, but the process remains identical. For instance, in supermodernity, Augé (1995:103) holds that individuals can only enter contractual relationships – precisely, relationships determined by numbers. In a discussion of Marx’s analysis of M-C-M (the way in which money is freed of its productive constraints to become capital, and then re-produces itself as itself – rather than as a commodity, for instance – before being reinserted as money), Jameson (1997:251) produces a similar analysis, claiming: “capital itself becomes freefloating. It separates itself from the concrete context of its productive geography.” Financial markets, for Jameson, create a disembodied spectre of value without mooring in a mode of production. This is structurally equivalent to Augé’s analysis: in one, relations based on place are replaced by contracts; in Jameson, capital also separates itself out from geography and becomes a sovereign domain of equivalence.

To put this process in the context of the figure of the gesture of the stock market trader: this gesture is an aberration because it supposes precisely the type of bodily, cultural relation that should have been effaced, or at least circumscribed, by the process of modernity/globalisation, which should not allow for local clusters of meaning to exist at the heart of the deterritorialising machine. In this sense, the gesture of the trader seems like a figure of incomplete modernity; soon the computer and the internet will efface this moment of bodily habitus at the centre of capitalism. Such an argument would parallel that of Jameson (1992) in Postmodernism: Or the Cultural Logic of Late Capitalism[7], where he argues that far from constituting a break with modernism, the fragmentary indeterminacy of postmodernism is part of an incomplete modernity.

The disappearance of this remnant seemed at hand in 2005, when the New York Stock Exchange announced a merger with Archipelago, an electronic exchange, and 200 years of pit trading seemed at an end. Ultimately, this final closure seemed to support Jameson’s theory that “globalization is rather a kind of cyberspace in which money-capital has reached its ultimate dematerialisation” (1997:260).

II. The gesture reappears

The claims that a new more rational age is on the horizon, without the restrictions of the social, have of course been made before, just as the claim that the world is now dematerialised echoes the modernist concerns of Georg Simmel. It is instructive in this regard to look at the development of an almost caricatural Foucauldian institution: the CBOT. The building constructed by the CBOT on LaSalle Street in 1930 seems to be inspired by Bentham. In response to growing commerce and Chicago’s position as the capital of America’s, if not the world’s, derivative markets, the CBOT designed a building in which everyone was designed to see everyone else – perfect vision enabling perfect information. Such a structure was intended to prevent personal and social relations forming where certain groups where favoured due to their position in the room (Zaloom:2006:42). When the traders entered the new building, however, there were immediately complaints: they couldn’t hear anything, it was said; noise could not be distinguished from information. Immediately, the traders started to form social groups within this non-social space.

The architects of electronic systems of trading also claimed that it will be faster, more efficient, and more equal – one of the most forceful arguments against pit trading in Chicago (which fundamentally ended in 1998, though sporadic trading continues to this day) was that it allowed for personal networks, which were thought to impede the liquidity of capital. As Chicago moved to an electronic system, the various firms of stock brokers used extensive training to prepare their workers for the change. Here, we must follow Weber (2003), in making a link between ethical and economic orders. One must note: it requires socialisation to require depersonalisation. As Simmel argues prophetically (it is 1903) “what appears here as dissociation is in reality only one of the elementary forms of socialisation” (1971:329).

It is striking the extent to which this scheme seems to follows Foucault’s account (1979) of the development of the prison. We have the development of a discursive formulation that posits the eradication of the personalised social relation and the institution of, precisely, institutional relationships (of the one-counts-for-all type). Then, just as in Foucault’s prison, the implementation of these schemes produces practices which, while emerging out of an abstracting discourse, nevertheless constitute its negation. For instance, in the Chicago pit, traders were of two types: brokers – who mediated between the pit and a bank or investment company – and locals, who played the market on their own account. Each was parasitic on the other. Zaloom (2006:100) shows how in this system a series of relationships developed that were far removed from the logic of profit. Locals would “take a loss to the benefit of the broker and his client, and in doing so, they would strengthen their relationship through reciprocity with the broker.” Furthermore, systems of status would develop that had little to do with capital and everything to do with a complex play of masks and status more reminiscent of medieval theatre: to ascend in the ranks of traders, one must constantly attempt to – physically – move up a series of steps. The first few times a neophyte dealer did this, he would be pushed off and mocked. Only after demonstrating sufficient bravery (and not necessarily profit), and enduring the requisite humiliation could the trader ascend to a higher level.

Which is to say, what the traders were doing was not simply making money. As Apparadurai sets out in The Social Life of Things (1986:3-64), money does not simply abstract, it also re-enters into local worlds of meaning and significance. To see this movement means looking beyond Jameson’s horizon when he claims that specific particularities (e.g. a culture) become capital: “commodity production is now a cultural phenomenon, in which you buy the product fully as much for its image as for its immediate use” (2000:53). While this is undeniable, what is equally true is that capital becomes cultural: becomes appropriated by local worlds. It is important to give this point its proper accent however: it is not simply that the abstract becomes concrete, but that it becomes concrete as an abstraction: capital becomes cultural only as capital; only as a non-place becomes a place even as it negates the idea of place.

III. Numbers of gesture

So far, we have only considered the physical place of the pit itself. What is important to emphasise is that this is not simply the sign of an incomplete modernisation: the phenomenology of the market is equally present in computer trading (Fig. II). This is not because computer trading is as real and situated as pit trading (though it is), but because pit trading (and indeed, social life in general) is as virtual as computer trading: the same play of potential and possibility, sculpted by habit and phenomenological placing, it at play in pit as it is on the computer screen.

Fig II. Image of the OmniTrader computer system.

So it is not just a case of noticing the presence of the physical in interaction with the computer, as Zaloom does (2006:86)[8], it is also the case of noticing that people do not simply buy derivatives in blocks of 10,000: as Mackenzie (2007) notes: “In some supposedly anonymous electronic markets, participants sometimes signal their identities by offering to buy not 10,000,000 shares, but 10,000,467, or bidding at $92,700,059: the ‘467’ or ‘59’ is like a codename.” The personal gestures of the pit are here re-expressed in an electrical market place, as particular configurations of number comes to stand in for individuals, and the sense of a place existing in a non-place is again re-established. Zaloom (2006:173) argues that the computer trader, like the unusual strategies of the pit trader, in “separating off his market self from his social self… refashions himself as a machine for trading.”

However, such an argument would simply leave us with a notion of differential modernities: the same capitalist system absorbed and changed in differing physical localities[9]: gestures would be variations on a theme.

IV. Numbers gesture

Osborne (2001:188) argues that “all non-places are places qua non-places” because even the negation of place is determinate: it is still in what was locale (what could be anywhere) that meaning is construed. This we see borne out by the traders’ behaviour: their division of work and life, the masks people wear, that Zaloom extensively documents, to hide their alienation. What this points to however, is that the distinctions of globalisation are not clear-cut, not place and non-place, or abstraction and emotion, to remember equally Simmel’s modernism. Instead, they are distinctions of structure.

Electronic trading systems, no less than the pit trading, are systems to structure perception and possibility. In the two systems just mentioned, as we have established, personal relations are intended to be abolished, and yet they reappear – in the figure of the gesture in the pit, and in the figure of the numeric gesture in the electronic trading system. But so far, these figures seem contingent: temporary moments of resistance against the narrative set up by the promise of the opening telegraph: time has been annihilated, and the future has arrived.

There is a third image to consider (Fig III.) – that of the figure of the movement of capital itself. As Herz (1998:20) argues, what needs to be put in question is just how the economy took on a life of its own in modern Western society, for a detailed consideration of Gursky’s Chicago Board of Trade II would lead us to the opposite conclusion.

Fig. III: Andreas Gursky. Chicago Board of Trade II.

The normal confusion of the stock market – a flurry of arms and tongues opaque to the outsider – is heightened by Gursky’s use of time: the image spills out waves of movement as time embeds itself into the image. Here computer banks and information screens are as uncertain and overwhelming as the gestures that surround them. Gesture is not apart from the virtual, and nor the virtual from the real[10]: given this continuity, we should not expect the possible to be effaced by capitalism[11] anymore than the possible is effaced by the actual.

That Jameson and Augé have such a strong link to Simmel in this regard is indicative of another, quieter, genealogy: that which links the conception of the individual in Simmel (a pre-given, atemporal entity) to the idea of the subject in Jameson and Augé. I want to suggest instead, in closing, a figure that shows the way a subject – indeed, a subject with particular practices and particular ideas – can emerge within capital itself.

After the move to fully electronic trading on the London International Futures and Options Exchange (LIFFE)[12], a strange figure started to be seen. In many electronic displays on derivatives market, one does not see particular offers, but merely aggregate bid/ask levels for the derivative in question (it is thought this absence of information makes it easier for traders to concentrate on the numbers). Sometimes, there is a spike in the bid/ask levels without an appreciable change in the price. This is normally thought to be someone called a “spoofer”: someone who wants to use a large quantity of bids to create the illusion that there is more demand to buy or sell than there actually is: great cache is associated to “taking him out” and returning the market to its “proper level.” However, though Zaloom (2006:226) doesn’t appreciate this, there is no logic necessity that this figure is a single person at all: it may simply be a series of bids that appear together for contingent reasons. Yet this figure is attributed subjectivity and intentionality, and the market acts as if this figure exists. It is within capital itself – as a structuring of flows of perception and memory – that one can find subjectivity, and it is this subjectivity that undermines any oppositions between abstraction and the particular, because it emphasises that movement is prior to any stoppage: any process of subjectivity.

To return to Jameson (1997:265) then, from a different path: “precisely what finance capital brings into being: a play of monetary entities that need neither production (as capital does) nor consumption (as money does), which supremely, like cyberspace, can live on their own internal metabolism, and circulate without reference to an older type of content.” This internal metabolism is correctly observed – but it is that which emerges through capital, only to negate its premises, if not its functioning.

The future never arrives: but the hands function, nonetheless; within times own annihilation, we find duration.

V. Bibliography

Antonioni, Michelangelo. 2004 [1962]. L’Eclisse. Criterion Collection: London.

Apparadurai , Arjun. 1986. Introduction: commodities and the politics of value. In, Arjun Apparadurai (ed). The Social Life of Things: commodities in cultural perspective. Cambridge University Press: Cambridge. pp.3-64.

Augé, Marc. 1995. Non-places: introduction to an anthropology of supermodernity. Verso: London.

Deleuze, Gilles. 1990. Bergsonism. Zone Books: New York.

Foucault, Michel. 1979. Discipline and Punish. Vintage: London

Hertz, Ellen. 1998. The Trading Crowd: An Ethnography of the Shanghai Stock Market. Cambridge University Press: Cambridge.

Jameson, Fredric. 2003. The End of Temporality. Critical Inquiry. Vol. 29. Summer. pp.695-718.

Jameson, Fredric. 2000. Globalization and Political Strategy. New Left Review. Vol. 4. July/August. pp. 49-68.

Jameson, Fredric. 1997. Culture and Financial Capital. Critical Inquiry. Vol. 24. No.1. pp.246-265.

Jameson, F. 1992. Postmodernism: Or the Cultural Logic of Late Capitalism. Verso: London.

Janszen, Eric. 2008. The next bubble: Priming the markets for tomorrow’s big crash. Harpers. February 2008. pp.39-45.

MacKenzie, Donald. 2007. Zero is a Clenched Fist. Review of Out of the Pits: Traders and Technology from Chicago to London by Caitlin Zaloom. London Review of Books. 1 November 2007. http://www.lrb.co.uk/v29/n21/mack01_.html. Accessed 2/2/2008 (subscription required).

Marx, Karl. 2002. The Communist Manifesto. Penguin: London.

Massumi, Brian. 2002. Parables for the Virtual: Movement, Affect, Sensation. Duke University Press: Durham & London.

Osborne, Peter. 2001. Non-places and the spaces of art. The Journal of Architecture. Vol.6. Summer. pp.183-194.

Simmel, Georg. 1971 [1903]. The Metropolis and Mental Life. In: Simmel, Georg. 1971. On Individuality and Social Forms. ed. Donald N. Levine. University of Chicago Press: Chicago. pp. 324-339.

Weber, Max 2003. The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism. Dover Publications: London.

Zaloom, Caitlin. 2006. Out of the Pits: Traders and Technology from Chicago to London. University of Chicago Press: Chicago & London.


[1] ‘World’ is used here very deliberately, to signify the space of possibility in which one moves. Husserl’s Lebenswelt would be the more technical equivalent. One does not live in globalisation: one lives in a world which is affected by it, which has its structures changed because of it, and only affects these changes through worlds. This movement, as this essay will demonstrate, is largely effaced in most contemporary accounts of globalisation, which see it as a grid-like system of subject positions in which individuals struggle. Such accounts fail to explain the way relationship between individual and society largely because they bracket off the mediating term: movement. This essay will foreground this mediation, and consider any positions (subjective or objective), as derivate of it. In Massumi’s concise formulation: “positionality is an emergent quality of movement.” Brian Massumi. 2002. Parables for the Virtual: Movement, Affect, Sensation. Duke University Press: Durham & London. p.8.

[2] Text of the first telegraph sent from Detroit to Chicago in 1848, the same year in which the Chicago Board of Trade (CBOT) was founded. From: A.T.Andreas. 1884. History of Chicago: From the earliest period to the present time, p.263. Quoted in Caitlin Zaloom. 2006. Out of the Pits: Traders and Technology from Chicago to London. University of Chicago Press: Chicago & London. p.21. Italics not in the original.

[3] This line is always used to show Marx’s conviction that capitalism deterritorialises people. However, rarely is the full sentence quoted: “All that is solid melts into air, all that is holy is profaned, and man is at last compelled to face with sober senses his real condition of life and his relations with his kind.” For Marx, it is through the deterritorialisation of capitalism that man is forced to face the truth of his existence without religious support.

[4] See Fig. I, overleaf. From Michelangelo Antonioni. 2004 [1962]. L’Eclisse. Criterion Collection: London.

[5] Such a body could equally be the body circumscribed by the sign and reproduced in an economy of exchange (witness advertising).

[6] What is left of the type of relationship of reference that Marx saw in use-money relationships before they were deterritorialised by capital in now principally a question of faith: we believed that – foolishly – there was a necessary relationship between the US mortgage market and the derivative packages being traded. This remnant of faith is astutely analysed in a recent article by Eric Janszen (2008:39-45).

[7] However, we should also be aware of Jameson’s (2003:695-718) more recent argument in The End of Temporality. Here, he argues that the increasing transparency of the world-system (e.g. the immanence of financial information) had led to a corresponding dialectical emphasis on representational images. This argument will be taken up in the conclusion.

[8] Zaloom analyses the phenomenon of “fat-fingering”: when one clicks with the right finger rather than the left, selling or buying directly into a bid the trader intended to join.

[9] In terms of the stock market, this argument is made for Shanghai by Herz (1998). She argues that the Shanghai stock market has to be understood in terms of the tension between its insertion as a minor player into a world system dominated by European stock markets, and a continuing distinction between tributary and small capitalist modes of production in Chinese history.

[10] Unfortunately I do not have the space to develop this point fully. See: Gilles Deleuze. 1990. Bergsonism. Zone Books: New York.

[11] Which is ultimately the argument of Jameson and Augé in this regard: specific constellations of possibility are effaced by the deterritorialising effect of capital.

[12] LIFFE was then taken over by Euronext in 2002, prior to its April 2007 merger with the New York Stock Exchange.

Categories: Political Theory
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Subject without Object

May 6, 2008 · Leave a Comment

Subject without object: the party in the thought of Alain Badiou

The party is the active purification of politics.

Alain Badiou. April 1975.[1]

We know today that all emancipatory politics must put an end to the model of the party.

Alain Badiou. February 2002.[2]

In the silence you don’t know, you must go on severing, I can’t go on, I’ll go on severing.

Beckett, Unnameable.[3]

If “the 19th century’s Hegelian idea was to rely on the movement of history ‘to surrender to the life of the object’, the 20th century’s idea is to confront history, to master it politically.”[4] Such is one of the central theses of Badiou’s summation of the last hundred years, The Century. He sketches out a whole series of methods by which such mastery was attempted; the party constituted the principle means by which an emancipatory politics could bring a political subjectivity into alignment with objective historical processes. The party, in the Marxist tradition of the 20th century, was the mediating force between an objective situation (capitalism), and the creation of a political subjectivity. In order for such a subjectivity to exist, it needed to purify itself of every reference to the objective historical stratum[5]; in the language of the later Badiou, to subtract itself from the presentation of the situation.

In 1975, at the end of the Cultural Revolution in China, such a movement was still thinkable in terms of the party. By 2002, Badiou is actively involved in Organisation Politique, a political project that explicitly refuses the party model, and the space of the political project that runs along the axis revolution/state is firmly closed.

In the text from which the first quote is taken, the party is the engine of the political. In the second, the party has vanished from the proper horizon of politics. It is no accident that we should use the word “vanished.”

In Théorie du Sujet[6], the clinamen, what Badiou also calls the “vanishing term”, and which is a precursor to the notion of the event in Being and Event[7], takes place only to immediately vanish. While the clinamen can never be encountered in thought as such, through an adherence to the traces of the vanishing term, the clinamen can be the basis for a subject. One can find precisely such a tracing of the vanished party in the political thought of Badiou’s later works.

For instance, for the Badiou of Being and Event there is no Two that exists prior to the taking of a political position[8]: it is through the particular statement that division emerges, and this division is not between two antagonistic enemies, as Schmitt[9] might understand politics. Rather, it is between the adherents to the statement and the situation as such. Unlike classic Marxist discourse, where the subject adheres to a pre-existent objective stratum (e.g. the way the proletariat are attached to the working class), the subject here “is not a substance.”[10] From out of the situation, a two is created, the political subject and the situation that resists, and through this procedure, there is a one, a singular political subjectivity. This is to say, there is not an antagonism between two equal parties but between a subject which is adhering to an event that has no relation to the situation, and the situation itself.

In a structurally similar fashion, in Maoism we can witness a process of thought which allows for the emergence of the bourgeoisie within the dictatorship of the proletariat itself[11]. That is to say, if Lenin[12] finds in the basis opposition between proletariat and bourgeoisie the fundamental motor of history, in Maoist thought, class conflict is not totally determined by pre-existing objective relations (i.e. the economic interests of the working class and the bourgeoisie) but can emerge as a two in any given situation. In the Maoist conception of the party, one can find a trace of what is to emerge in Badiou’s later work.

In the first quote from Badiou, the party is the mode of politics, in the second, the party has vanished.

Here, the question is not one of affirming, in Badiou’s later thought, a simple continuity with his Maoist period, as Bruno Bosteels seems tempted to do[13]. However, nor is it the case that one can unproblematically assert a complete break between Badiou’s latest work and his Maoist period, as is Hallward’s tendency[14]. Instead, it is question of understanding the specific lines of continuity between the two positions, and equally, the disjunctures between them. Ultimately, the challenge must be to think these disjunctures, not from outside the situation of Badiou’s thought, not, for instance, from the position of an inevitable development following the collapse of the USSR, but from within the thought of the party in the philosophy of Alain Badiou itself.

This essay will trace the notion of the party itself, as it is presented in the work of Alain Badiou. Due note will be taken, when possible, of the differences between the approach of De l’idéologie[15] and Théorie de la contradiction[16], two early texts by Badiou, and his later work. However, the emphasis will be on tracing the development of the notion of the party during the 20th century, as it is presented by Badiou, and on accounting for the continuity between the problematic posed by the party and the political thought Badiou presents in his later work, principally The Century, Abrégé de Métapolitique[17], and Being and Event.

The thesis advanced is as follows. Communism, in all its various forms, poses the party as a solution to two problems: that of duration – which is to say, how does one keep people together – and that of mediating objective situations and political subjectivity. In the course of the 20th century, the failure of the party to achieve generic Communism is largely to be understood in terms of its insistent attempt to relate politically subjectivity to the existing situation. This insistence on relation leads, as we shall show, to an unending destructive movement that is unable to secure the movement from the state to communism. It is precisely this relation that Badiou’s political thought attempts to undo, and in so doing, suggests a way that one can achieve a generic communism from within an existing situation. It is not a question then, of marking out the thought of Badiou from the thought of the party, but understanding how Badiou’s thought emerges from the disjunctures present in the party. In Beckett’s words: “In the silence you don’t know, you must go on severing, I can’t go on, I’ll go on”; from the ruin of the party, in the space of what Badiou calls the second restoration[18], we again find the Two.

I. The party is purification

The new can only come about as the seizure of ruin. Novelty will only take place in the element of a fully accomplished destruction[19].

The party as an object of Marxist discourse emerges out of the events of the Paris Commune[20]. Here, a heterogeneous set of forces were roundly crushed by the state. In Marxist thought there are two clear positions regarding the lesson to be drawn from these events. The first, set forward by Marx in The Civil War in France[21], argues that the commune clarifies the immediate political objectives of the (working) class with regard to the state – the task is to break the dominance of the state, without coming to occupy the same position. However, this analysis, while correct, does not set out how the working class is to break the dominance of the state; in Badiou’s view, it rests at a level which reads the subjective and objective as part of the same movement: objective considerations of the actually existing working class (they way they are inserted in a system of domination, for instance) are not distinguished from the subjective movement whereby the working class realises itself as proletariat: as a force which overcomes the system of class distinctions upon which the state is based.

The necessity for such a position is first theorised by Lenin, and his understanding of the Paris Commune constitutes the second clear position regarding the lesson to be drawn from these events. Lenin’s position, at its simplest level, argues that without a form of organisation that can condense the forces we see at play in the Paris Commune, there can be no duration to any political movement. The party, for Lenin, is thus posed principally as a question of time: Lenin “proposed a solution to the problem. What type of organization does the proletariat need to really and enduringly break the enemy state machine?”[22]

The problem that Lenin answers is that of duration: how to give a figure of the I/We relationship (where I am understood as a collective, rather than as part of a body where I submit to a sovereign) that could be given duration. Lenin answers, in a simple sense, the question of time: how we can stay together for a long time, and correspondingly, how can the subjective political body enter history.

For the party is not simply a form that gives organisation to the proletariat, rather, in giving organisation to the proletariat, several fundamental structures change. If, initially, the working class is part of an objective situation: a class which has a place in an economic system, then it is the party, by giving a status to the working class over and above their naming in the situation, that allows the working class to emerge as proletariat – as a subjective force in history that is outside of the objective situation; outside in a precise way, because the proletariat is not created simply through enunciation: it is not the case that one could equally create any political subject from the objective situation. The proletariat is the one class that can form itself as a revolutionary subject precisely as a result of an objective dispossession (they are not counted in the situation) and a subjective divestment; the universal truth that they proclaim is precisely that which is outside of any class relation: the end of class relations.

Here we must be clear the extent to which Badiou’s position[23] deviates from Leninist orthodoxy. For Lenin, the party functions as the element which will bring into line the subject (the proletariat) and the object (the inevitable course of history). In the present of Lenin’s writing (pre-October 1917), the proletariat are not conscious of their place in history. Thought is divorced from action. The party offers the mediation which will allow thought and action, life and history, to become unified. As Hallward succinctly puts it: “the party is that agent, produced by history, by which history overcomes itself as history, that is, by which history becomes political logic.”[24]

For Badiou, in contrast, the party as political body emerges when thought subtracts itself from the objective situation. Now it does this in a particular way – one of the great advances Badiou makes as a philosopher is to rigorously think through how the Ideal emerges from within the given situation – but it does not at any point assure a meeting between a given situation and thought. The unity desired by Lenin is not given in Badiou’s philosophy.

Despite this difference, many aspects of Badiou’s reading of the development of the party, at least in its destructive moment, correlate to Lenin’s presentation. For Badiou, the working class, as it becomes the political subject known as the proletariat, subtracts itself from all relations defining social place. This movement also occurs in Lenin, where the proletariat is positioned as the inevitable overcoming of the contradictions of the class system. The initial moment here then, is a destructive one – the party destroys the previous social contradictions from which it emerged. This is the destruction that Badiou speaks of in the quote that opened this section: the new can only come about as the seizure of ruin.[25] This destruction, in Lenin, is assured by the teleological progression of Marxism, whereby the contradictions in capitalism are exposed by the creation of the party. In Badiou’s later work, it is instead the event that is read through the situation, exposing its void; here the moment is entirely situational, and does not rely, as noted above, on a unity of thought and action, subjective political subject and objective conditions.

Badiou is fully aware of the importance given by Lenin and Mao, among others, to the correlation of political subjectivity and objective conditions. Indeed, in The Century, he makes this contradictory relationship the central motif of the last hundred years. In his reading of Mandelstam’s poem entitled The Age[26], he claims[27] “there is an incompatibility of sorts between the ontology of life (in my view homogenous with the ontology of history) and the theory of voluntaristic discontinuity…this incompatibility constitutes the acting subjectivity of the beast-century.” In Badiou’s work, this incompatibility finds its expression in all the great truth procedures of the age. This search for purification of the objective situation, and the desire for an unmediated experience of the real, is nowhere more problematic than in the case of politics.

If we were to expand Badiou’s reading of this motif, then the work of Georg Lukacs[28], unmentioned in The Century, is perhaps exemplary of these contradictions. For Lukacs, the separation of subject and object corresponds to the structure of commodity relations in Marx, where the product is divorced from the social relations that created it. To understand the unity of subject and object one must remain faithful to the proletariat as the motor of history. However, the objective stratum of the working class would frequently act and think in ways that were in variance to Lukacs’ expectations of their behaviour given their historical position. To explain how Marxism should act with the proletariat (to unify subject and object, history and politics) though these actions may seem to go against the interest of the class as they themselves express it, Lukacs introduces a divide between the empirical consciousness of the working class, and their imputed consciousness (how they would behave if they were only aware of themselves as political subjects), with the party positioned as the third mediating term that carries one over to the other. Here, the party takes on the explicit form of praxis, as Lukacs states[29]: “the pre-eminently practical nature of the Communist party presupposes its possession of a correct theory for otherwise the consequences of a false theory would soon destroy it.”

One can see in this statement the contradictions that would later come to destroy the revolutionary potential of the party. Because the party is thought of as theory in practice, and this theory is thought to be congruent with the objective conditions present in the world (history as dialectical unfolding), its actions can be justified as theory, just as its theory will always be found in its practice. This constant attempt to tie political subjectivity to objective conditions leads to significant problems, as we shall see below.

In its first movement, the party destroys the objective conditions that give rise to it. In so doing, it can find no justification within the situation – for the demands of the party are specifically excluded from the presentation of the situation. Thus revolution, for Badiou, authorises itself on the basis of nothing; the creation of a political subjectivity can find no authority other than in fidelity to itself, and at the moment of fidelity this is always the case, even if one believes that later the party will come to be understood as ensuring the passage between subjective and objective.

There is a then a second movement to the party that we should not ignore. The destructive self-authorisation of the first movement should then also lead to the destruction of the party itself, as the party in turn, at least in Marxist theory, is only the mediating agent between capitalism and communism. Thus, within the party, the dialectical movement that created it must then destroy itself; failure to do so would lead to the creation of the party as institution. In the end, for Badiou, it must be able to be said: “Nothing took place but the revolution.”[30] This second movement is more problematic. For if the destruction of the objective conditions of capitalism carries with it, in Marxist thought, a historical logic, this logic cannot be invoked after the end of history and the triumph of the proletariat. For Badiou’s later work, such a movement is provided by the subject, a position already anticipated by the voluntarism present in TDC: “every subject is a forced exception, which comes in a second moment.”[31] However, when the party has succeeded in achieving the dictatorship of the proletariat, and is itself the objective situation, how then is one to divide the party?

II. Purification as the party

A party becomes stronger by purging itself.

Stalin.[32]

Communism was the idea of a collective mastery of truths. But what then happened, everywhere, was that a master rose up, since the truth was no longer separated from the mastery.

Alain Badiou. Abrégé de métapolitique.[33]

Because, as Sainte-Juste demands: “What do they want who want neither Virtue nor Terror?” His response is well known: they want corruption, another name for the failure of the subject.

Alain Badiou.[34]

In The Century, Badiou’s account of Communism is conflicted – both bittersweet and fiercely proud. It is also, remarkably for one who lived its battles so intensely, without the reactionary thoughtlessness that characterises so many of the accounts of the demise of the Communist project. We should not be deceived by the second quote that starts this section; Badiou by no means offers an account of Communism that sees its failure in the inevitable movement from utopian project to institutional framework. As we shall develop in the next section, Badiou sees a way to be faithful to Communism that does not lead to the Terror (or the show trials). In exploring the 20th century, he principally sees the problem of Communism in its relation to the real, and the guarantees that the party as an institution attempted to place on this relation. It is this relation to the real that for Badiou cannot be a relation at all.

The problem of Communism is not its truth – neither the fraternity of political struggle, nor the equality that is its goal, and that, for Badiou, is the presumption of all political struggles[35]. Truth, for Badiou, is a production of freedom[36] from all relations. This is, if we recall the last section, the function of the party with regard to the proletariat: to ensure its freedom from the existing situation and its constitution as a political subjectivity with duration. As Badiou states[37] in the Petit Manuel d’inésthétique: “the idea of the link (lien), or of the relation (rapport) is fallacious. A truth is unlinked (déliée) and it is towards this local point where a link is undone that a truth procedure operates.” For the subjects of a truth procedure, in this case the members of the Communist Party, we can say that access to the truth is equivalent to what Hegel what consider the practice of freedom. The subject cannot be bound to the party by objective conditions –precisely what the party is set up to overcome – but can only be so by the strength of its own adherence. “The eventual nomination has always already taken place… and this already is our only guarantee. The rest is a matter of faith.”[38]

In being bound only to itself, the fidelity to a truth procedure which is called the party resembles nothing so much as Hegel’s account of absolute freedom in The Phenomenology of Spirit[39]. It is worth briefly considering this incredible text, for it precisely parallels Badiou’s analysis of the Stalin’s show trials, with one distinctive difference, which we shall explore later.

This undivided Substance of absolute freedom ascends the throne of the world without any power being able to resist it…What made the notion into an existent object was its diremption into separate subsistent spheres, but when the object becomes a Notion, there is no longer anything in it with a continuing existence…It comes into existence in such a way that each individual consciousness raises itself out of its allotted sphere, no longer finds its essence and its work in this particular sphere, but grasps itself as the Notion of will, grasps all spheres as the essence of this will, and therefore can only realise itself in a work which is the work of the whole…In this absolute freedom, therefore, all social groups or classes…are abolished; the individual consciousness that belonged to any such sphere, and willed and fulfilled itself in it, has put aside its limitation; its purpose is the general purpose, its language universal law, its work the universal work.[40]

For Hegel, the French Revolution presented the subjective figure of absolute freedom. This figure is not defined by its interest in particular spheres in society (the bourgeoisie, for instance, and their class interest), but precisely and only in itself. It “grasps all spheres as the essence of this will.” In a time of revolution, the question arises: how does one know that the individual is indeed taking his place in absolute freedom: that his work is the universal work, his purpose the general purpose? This problem arises because absolute freedom, relating only to itself, is not bound to any particular conception of the good: it is self-authorising. The society of absolute freedom must be created by all of its members. In the quote given above, it is evident that such a society must be both the creation of decisions of the will, and that the decisions of the One are taken by the All. Such requirements run precisely contrary to the requirements of an institution[41], much as, in Badiou, a truth procedure is incommensurable to any re-presentation.

In Hegel’s account[42], this lack of authorisation means that nothing can ensure absolute freedom in the French Revolution – the Virtue referred to by Badiou in the quote that began this section. Because nothing can authorise this name other than itself, everyone, and everything, is suspected of being merely the semblance of virtue. This is to say, paradoxically, that at the height of the revolution, what one sees everywhere is corruption. Thus, the essence of absolute freedom comes to be: the fight against corruption in the name of an ideal that cannot be verified. In an attempt to assure absolute freedom, this means that everyone is a suspect. In the absence of a criterion by which virtue can be judged, it is precisely in the overzealous identification with virtue that one finds corruption. In an attempt to re-establish the link between the world and absolute freedom, the situation must be constantly purged, and purged precisely of those who seem to embody the general will the most. Hegel finishes his section on the terror by remarking that the logic of purification at play here can only end in nothing, in death. This is the meaning of the peculiar conjunction used by Sainte-Juste that Badiou quotes in the quotation that begins this section: ““What do they want who want neither Virtue nor Terror?” His response is well known: they want corruption, another name for the failure of the subject.”

Virtue and Terror. The necessary conjunction of the two elements in any pure politics (as Badiou understands it) finds echo nearly a century later in Merleau-Ponty’s grim defence of Stalin’s show trials, Humanism and Terror[43]. It is precisely in the show trials that Badiou locates his re-reading of Hegel’s account of the Terror of the French Revolution. This account begins with a restaging of the name Virtue. Virtue, in Badiou’s account[44], becomes one of the many categories of revolutionary politics, along with “‘conviction’, loyalty’, ‘class position’, and ‘obeying the Party’.”[45] All of these categories become ways of accessing the real, and, just as in Hegel’s account of virtue, the non-relational character of the real means that nothing can confirm that the real is what it is – every element of the real is “tainted by the suspicion that the supposedly real point of the category is actually nothing but semblance.”[46]

To understand what is implied by this semblance, it is worthwhile briefly considering the concept of ideology in Marxism. In the work of Lukacs, for instance, ideology is a discourse in which the real effects of social relations are effaced in favour of a representation of society that justifies existing class relations as normal or natural (as opposed to transitory historical phenomenon). Nevertheless, ideology, while organising a discourse which is separated from the society, expresses that very society. It is in the chinks and contradictions of discourse that Adorno and the Frankfurt school later find a way to connect ideology to the functioning of society[47]; it is in the semblance that the real is to be found, as the gap between semblance and real effects.

This conception of ideology shifts from Marx’s interpretation, where[48] ideology hides the objective distribution of society. In this reading, the semblance unproblematically hides the real, and one can reveal the real through critique. In Brecht, by contrast, the violence of the real emerges when the gap between effect and presentation is demonstrated. The power of the real here cannot be directly re-presented, but can only be experienced in the form of a mask, or an ideology.

The real of revolution, be is loyalty or virtue, cannot be re-presented, and cannot be institutionalised. It can be experienced only as precisely the gap between its presentation and its effects. The party, as an institution-to-be, constantly struggles against the impossibility of re-presentation. This movement underlies the constant destructive energy of the Party in the 20th century: from the Stalinist show trials to the Cultural Revolution, and, to return to the last century, to the French Revolution. However, here one must note a crucial difference between Hegel’s argument in the Phenomenology of Spirit and that of Badiou[49]. For Hegel, the problem with absolute freedom occurs in its lack of relation to anything; that nothing guarantees the movement of the dialectic outside its absolute category. Salvation here would be a relation to the state. For Badiou, in contrast, the problem occurs because there is not a sufficient lack of relation; the revolution constantly tries to assure, like Marx’s notion of ideology, a notion of the real that resides in the objective, rather than in the gap between the real effects and their presentation. In The Century, Badiou tries to distinguish between two conceptions of the passion for the real in the 20th century. The first, which he finds primarily in art, conceives of the real as a subtraction. In reference to Malevich’s White on White, Badiou writes: “Why is this something other than destruction? Because, instead of treating the real as identity [e.g. the proletariat], it is treated right away as a gap. The question of the real/semblance relation will not be resolved by a purification that would isolate the real, but by understanding that the gap itself is real.”[50]

It is not immediately evident what this formulation of subtraction means for politics. The first thing that is evident is that any structure or institution that attempts to correlate the real to an objective presentation immediately slips back into destruction; attempting to ensure the purification of the party and the correlation of the absolute with the particular. This destruction is un-ending: “Purification is a process doomed to incompletion, a figure of the bad infinite.”[51] The next section will explore what happens the last moment of the sequence of the Party – the Cultural Revolution, where the incommensurable logics of party and state are most forcefully expressed. Then, through an exploration of the political thought of the Organisation Politique, we shall explore the possibilities of a politics based on the idea of subtraction we find in Malevich’s White on White.

III. Destroying destruction

In any case, the Cultural Revolution undeniably signals the closure of an entire sequence, whose central ‘object’ is the party, and whose main political concept is that of the proletariat.

Alain Badiou, The Century.[52]

From 1965 to 1976, China experienced a chaotic period, a period at once incredibly violent and astonishingly productive of new forms of organisation, no matter how short lived. It is this period that now goes by the name of the Cultural Revolution[53]. The new forms of organisation we see emerge during this period were of great interest to the radical thinkers of Europe. By 1965 it was evident that the USSR had made of the dictatorship of the proletariat a state form, and, to paraphrase Badiou’s formulation, if Communism was the idea of a collective mastery of truths, what then happened, everywhere, was that a master rose up, since the truth was no longer separated from the mastery.[54] The Cultural Revolution was, retrospectively, the last attempt to see if from within the party, a truly generic communism could emerge, that did not end up returning to the state form. It was an attempt to answer anew what Badiou, in an earlier work, calls the primary political question: “The only real political question becomes, what is the organic link between the masses in revolt – the decisive historical actor – and the party, constituted as political subject.”[55] In De l’idéologie and Théorie de la contradiction, the party remains the crucial enjeux (stake) for any true politics. This conviction underlies the theoretical positions he takes during the period – for the Badiou of DI and TDC, destruction, based in the party model, rather than subtraction, remains the principle operation of his thought.

As the quote that begins this section indicates, concretely, the project fails: the impossibility of the party form subtracting itself from the state is demonstrated by the Cultural Revolution. This failure begins the sequence of Badiou’s thought that attempts to subtract the political subject from all objective conditions. What this section will show, however, is that Badiou’s later thought does not break with the experiments undertaken by Maoism, rather, the thought of a politics without party begins in Maoism, and subtracts from it what cannot be accounted for within Maoism itself: namely, the irreducible, minimal difference between what takes place and the place in which it occurs; between the subject of politics and the situation of history – it is this that is occluded by the thought of the party, and this that Badiou attempts to resolve in the Organisation Politique.

In Badiou’s depiction of the Cultural Revolution, there is one central stake: does the one divide into two, or does the two become one? These two positions are called the leftist and rightist positions, and, as Bruno Bosteels[56] sets out in his essay on Badiou’s Maoism, these positions become the basis for the early critique Badiou makes of Deleuze. Put simply, “the two becomes one” refers to the following thesis: following the institution of the Chinese Communist Party in the state apparatus, the time of division is over, and a process of synthesis must prevail; what is necessary for the Party is a process of unity, and with it the construction of a state, and the end of mass politics. Such a position was taken by, among others, Deng Xiaoping.

For the leftist position, this position is a conservative one. They claim – Lin Biao and Mao[57], paradigmatically – that the class war has not yet been victorious, and that by calling for One, rather than for division, what the rightist position is calling for is the restoration of the old One, under the cover of synthesis.

At the two extremities of Marxism, you will find the following theses: “It is not the consciousness of men that determines their being, but, on the contrary, their social being that determines their consciousness (Marx, Preface to a Contribution to the Critique of Political Economy).

“Marxism implies manifold principles, but, in the final analysis, they can all be reduced to a single sentence: “It is right to revolt against the reactionaries.” (Mao, ubiquitous quotation during the Cultural Revolution).[58]

The rightist position justifies itself by saying that social being determines consciousness: that the arrival of the party means the end of class. For Mao, in contrast, social being never entirely determines consciousness. For instance, the working class are not automatically the proletariat; nothing about their social being necessarily determines their consciousness as a political subject[59]. Equally, this means that the arrival of the party as social form does not end, for instance, bourgeois consciousness. This is the meaning of the ubiquitous quotation Badiou refers to above: the political here takes absolute precedent. It is a matter of assuming a political position – here that of generic communism – and ringing it throughout the situation (the presentation of a situation that is made to appear as a One), even if that means finding, within the party, a two (and thus, correlatively, a real One – the political subject – and the situation that does not account for it, even if that situation is the Chinese Communist party itself). “Maoism affirms that, even under socialism, what happens at the level of the state is subordinate to what happens in the class struggle.”[60]

So as to properly differentiate between Badiou’s later politics[61] and the thought of Mao, it is here important to emphasise that these divisions were to take place within the party itself. It was not the case that the logic of the party led Mao to abandon the concept of it (as is the case for Badiou). Instead, the internal division – the logic of purification we worked through earlier with reference to Hegel – can only take place within the domain of the party-state. This constitutes the great contradiction of Mao: he is the rebel in power who asserts, simultaneously, the right to rebel, and the unity of the Chinese Communist Party.

This contradiction finds itself registered in three central domains of Maoist thought: in the thought of revolution, in the thought of the state, and in the thought of the economy. We could sum up Maoist thought here in the following way.

Revolution: It is right to rebel against the reactionaries, as the famous slogan goes. There is a constant production of the Two from any One – the constant purification of a political subject which reveals the generic truth that needs to be subtracted from a situation. This occurs at a disjuncture from the objective situation. In saying this, Mao anticipates the absolute singularity of political process (singular processes inside singular situations) that is the characteristic of the Organisation Politique. In both cases, “the two is the process through which the one comes to be” – class does not exist outside of the determination of a political subject.

State: In its nature, the state is a machine destined to oppress hostile forces. Even if within the state there do not exists any forces before they are oppressed, this does not change the oppressive nature of the state regarding exterior hostile forces. When we speak of the form of the state, this does not mean anything other than an army, prisons, arrests, capital punishment, and so on. It is here that imperialism exists, and thus how can the form of the state be different with the coming of Communism?[62] Mao here appears to be brutally frank about the dictatorship of the proletariat. The state is constituted by its oppressive form – its need to violently present a situation. Even if there are no contradictions within the state (for instance, if there is no class struggle within China because there is a Communist state), this does not change the fundamental structure of the state.

This brutal assessment is continued by Badiou in Organisation Politique: in the apparatus of the state, in its insistence to transform a political subject into a mastery of a situation, the false One of the state will only be re-produced. In Badiou, this thought comes with a twist. Because the state – and re-presenting the state of a situation – is abandoned as a task, the state no longer performs the task of structuring opposition to it. The political task is now one of formulating statements in specific situations, which will never follows the logic of the state, but are no longer structured in necessary opposition to them: “It is rather a matter of requiring something from the state, of formulating with respect to the state a certain number of prescriptions or statements…we have to work more through prescriptions against the state than in any radical exteriority to the state.”[63]

Economy: In his notes on Stalin, Mao argues that Stalin depoliticises the will through economism: “All this touches on the superstructure, which is to say, on ideology. Stalin [in contrast] speaks solely of the economy: in any case, there is no politics [in Stalin’s thought].”[64] Through his tying of the political subject of the party to the objective economic situation in the country, Stalin, Mao argues, effaces the political subject. Here we must note the disjunctural element of Mao’s thought. This is summed up, in slightly exaggerated form, by Zizek in his essay on Mao:

The paradox here is properly dialectical, perhaps in the ultimate application of Mao’s teaching on contradictions: its very underdevelopment (and thus “un-ripeness” for the revolution) makes a country “ripe” for the revolution. Since, however, such “unripe” economic conditions do not allow the construction of properly post-capitalist socialism, the necessary correlate is the assertion of the “primacy of politics over economy”: the victorious revolutionary subject doesn’t act as an instrument of economic necessity, liberating its potentials whose further development is thwarted by capitalist contradictions; it is rather a voluntarist agent which acts AGAINST “spontaneous” economic necessity, enforcing its vision on reality through revolutionary terror.[65]

Now Zizek here distorts Mao somewhat – Mao would never claim to enforce Maoism on reality through revolutionary terror. However, the central point is correct: Maoism starts from the political subject, which operates at a disjuncture from the economic (objective) situation. This movement precisely prefigures the emphasis in Badiou, that: “there can be no economic battle against the economy.”[66]

In these three central elements of Maoist thought, and, in the insistence on the irreducible difference between the subjective political subject and the objective situation, we find the inheritance of Maoism in Badiou’s thought. Fundamentally, however, what changes is a word: the word subtraction replaces destruction. In Badiou’s thought, it is no longer the case of destroying conditions to access the real, but in understanding the minimal difference that allows the real to be understood as the very gap between subject and object, world and politics. It is this difference, and its ambiguous implications for politics, we shall explore in our final section.

IV. Immortality without death

Politics, when it exists, grounds its own principle regarding the real, and is thus in need of nothing, save itself.

Alain Badiou[67].

In the final section of this essay, we will sketch out what this minimal difference means for politics. Briefly, our question will be: given the disjuncture between subject and world, how can one hope to make a difference to the world? Hallward[68] alleges that Badiou seems to be endorsing a version of Hegel’s unhappy consciousness, “the stoical affirmation of a worthy ideal or subjective principle, but as divorced from any substantial relation to the material organization of the situation.”[69] Ultimately this is a problem of the way in which Politics is subtracted from History. Contrary to Hallward’s critique, it will be shown that the disjunctural relationship between subject and situation is specific to the situation, though one could not have predicted the subject that emerges from an event from the situation, much as one cannot predict the event from a situation. That said, the subject “is a generic part of the situation insofar as it is an immutable excrescence whose entire being resides in regrouping presented terms.”[70]

In Badiou, subjective thought is only thought from within the subjective itself: there is no objective mediation with the situation, there is no question of judgement (as in Kant), and there is no interpretation (as in the Frankfurt school) – truth and knowledge here are disjunctural terms. In many senses, it is a question of chance, and faith in chance, as Badiou says: “Chance, from which any truth is woven, is the matter of the subject.”[71] This essay does not give me space to develop Badiou’s ontology, nor its equivalence with mathematics. Nevertherless, it is important to note, “that the sequence of (truth) might have some sort of constituent relation with the substantial individuality of what is being investigated is precisely what set-theoretic truth proscribes in advance.”[72]

However, here we must distinguish between a constituent, or necessary relation, and having no relation at all. There are two critiques that must be refuted here if Badiou’s emphasis on singular truth procedures is to have any political validity. It remains to be shown that in asserting political subjectivity has no relation to established categories, Badiou manages to escape the problem of the French Revolution and absolute freedom. Second, while keeping no relation to the objective world, it is important for us to demonstrate that the political subject nevertheless emerged in the world, and will act there, though it is not bound by its distribution of the situation.

In the work that Organisation Politique does on immigration (which is not, we should emphasis, bound to an event, and does not follow the process of subjectification developed in B&E) there is a particular figure who is counted for nothing: the figure of the worker. In their work, to be counted for nothing means to be counted as capital, and not to be counted politically as a figure within the political field. So there is a specific figure whom is not counted, and this figure, to a degree, is open to be understood through investigation, and then, after an analysis of the situation, through a thinking through of the concrete measures that can be made in a situation.

Now it is entirely true that this is not, as I mentioned, the process by which a political subject emerges after an event, but it does mean that, on the basis of analysis of particular occlusions, questions can be asked, and actions formulated, on the basis of the thought of subtraction. Equally, in the case of the creation of a political subject, the subject is able to have such an influence on the situation[73] precisely because it is that subject that has precisely revealed the void of the situation. It is because the subject is only faithful to itself, and the precise sequence it initiates, that it does not fall in the Hegelian problem of absolute freedom, which is inaugurated when the subjective figure of absolute freedom attempts to find guarantee for its work in the situation as such. However, because it emerges within the situation, the precise sequence the political subject initiates is not simply an unhappy consciousness: it is only thinkable in the world, in terms of the material organisation of the world which in which its occurrence was specifically impossible.

Badiou, in the figure of the political subject, is wary of the dangers of the Paris Commune, that heterogeneous anarchy without duration; questions of fidelity and duration are of paramount importance in his work. Equally, the long exposure to Communism, both as state project and as generic ideal (which emerges from the real), has tempered his reading of the party. If for Badiou, the passion for the real, with which he characterises the 20th century, was ultimately a passion for the generic, which is experienced as the real, then this passion led to a corresponding passion for formalisation, which characterises all the great truth procedures of the 20th century.

The Party is the name of the formalisation of Politics. It is also the name, today, of the closure of formalisation within the party, for its formalisation was not in terms of itself – it was not singular – but placed in terms of the situation. This attempted correlation to the objective, as this essay has demonstrated, was the great blockage to the Communist project in the last century. Badiou, in removing formalisation from relation to objective conditions, has offered us a reawakening of the project for the 21st. The real here emerges precisely in the gap: between the figure of the party and its objective representation. Like the Clinamen in Théorie du sujet, the party has vanished. Like the Clinamen, the subjective ideal of which it was the figure keeps on working. In the silence you don’t know, you must go on severing, I can’t go on, I’ll go on severing.

V. Bibliography

Adorno, Theodor. 2001. The Culture Industry. Routledge: London.

Anonymous. 2005. The dialectical Mode. With Regard to Mao Zedong and Problems of Strategy in China’s Revolutionary War. Positions 13:3. pp.664-668. Originally published in May 1992, in the third issue of La Distance Politique, the newsletter of the Organisation Politique.

Badiou, Alain. 2007a. Being and Event. London: Continuum Press.

Badiou, Alain. 2007b. A Musical Variant of the Metaphysics of the Subject. Parrhesia. No.2. pp.29-36.Translation of “Scholie: Une variante musicale de la métaphysique du sujet.” From Badiou, Alain. 2006. Logiques des Mondes. Paris: Seuil. pp.89-99.

Badiou, Alain. 2006. Logiques des Mondes. Paris: Seuil.

Badiou, Alain. 2005a. Further selections from Théorie du sujet on the Cultural Revolution. Positions 13:3. pp. 649-668.

Badiou, Alain. 2005b. Selections from Théorie du sujet on the Cultural Revolution. Positions 13:3. pp.635-648.

Badiou, Alain. 2005c. The Cultural Revolution: The Last Revolution? Positions 13:3. pp.481-514. Originally a presentation by Alain Badiou in February 2002, at the Maison des Ecrivains in Paris.

Badiou, Alain. 2005d. The Century. London: Verso.

Badiou, Alain. 2001. Ethics: an essay on the understanding of evil. London: Verso.

Badiou, Alain. 1998a. Abrégé de Métapolitique. Paris: Seuil.

Badiou, Alain. 1998b. Petit Manuel d’inésthétique. Paris: Seuil.

Badiou, Alain. 1976. De l’idéologie. Paris: François Maspero.Yenan “syntheses”.

Badiou, Alain. 1975. Théorie de la contradiction. Paris: François Maspero.Yenan “syntheses”.

Beckett, Samuel. 1973. Unnameable. From Trilogy: “Molloy”, “Malone Dies”, “Unnameable”. Calder books: London.

Bosteels, Bruno. 2005. Post-Maoism: Badiou and Politics. Positions 13:3. pp.575-634.

Group for the Foundation of the Union of France Marxist-Leninist (UCFML). 2005. Maoism: A stage of Marxism. Positions. 13:3. pp. 515-520.

Hallward, Peter. 2003. Badiou: a subject to truth. Minneapolis/London: University of Minnesota Press.

Hegel, Georg. 1992. Elements of the Philosophy of Right. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Hegel, Georg. 1977. Phenomenology of Spirit. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Lenin, Vladimir Illich. 2006. Revolution at the Gates: A Selections of Writings from February to October 1917. Verso: London.

Lukacs, Georg.1971. History and Class Consciousness. Merlin: London.

Lukacs, Georg. 1970. Lenin: A Study of the Unity of His Thought. New Left Books: London.

Mao Tse-Tung. 1977. Five Essays on Philosophy. Peking: Foreign Language Press.

Mao Tse-Tung. 1972. The Little Red book: Quotations from Chairman Mao Tse-Tung. Peking: Foreign Language Press.

Marx, Karl. 1987. The German Ideology: Introduction to a critique of Political Economy. Lawrence & Wishart: London.

Marx, Karl. 1974. The Civil War in France. Progress Publishers: London.

Merleau-Ponty, Maurice. 1969. Humanism and Terror: An Essay on the Communist Problem. Beacon Press: London.

Schmitt, Carl. 1963. On the Concept of the Political. Telos Press: New York.

Taylor, Charles. 1997. Hegel. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Zizek, Slavoj. 2007. Badiou: Notes from an ongoing debate. http://www.lacan.com/zizou.htm. Accessed 3.1.2008.

Zizek, Slavoj. 2005. Mao Zedong: the Marxist Lord of Misrule. http://www.lacan.com/zizmaozedong.htm. Accessed 11.12.2007.


[1] This quotation is from the section of Théorie du Sujet entitled “From subjective to objective”, dated April 15, 1975. It was reprinted in positions 13:3: 641. Badiou, Alain. 2005b. Selections from Théorie du sujet on the Cultural Revolution. positions 13:3. pp.635-648.

[2] This quotation is originally from the text of a lecture on the Cultural Revolution that Alain Badiou gave at the Maison des Ecrivains in Paris. It was reprinted in the same issue of positions as the quote above. Badiou, Alain. 2005c. The Cultural Revolution: The Last Revolution? Positions 13:3. pp.481-514.

[3] Beckett, Samuel. 1973. Unnameable. From Trilogy: “Molloy”, “Malone Dies”, “Unnameable”. Calder books: London. p.326.

[4] Badiou, Alain. 2005d. The Century. London: Verso. p.15. Henceforth TC.

[5] That is to say, for instance, that the constellation of forces that bears the name ‘proletariat’ must be absolutely incommensurable with the demands of the capitalist economic system.

[6] The author is here reliant on the summary of Théorie du Sujet presented in Hallward, Peter. 2003. Badiou: a subject to truth. Minneapolis/London: University of Minnesota Press. pp. 33-35. Henceforth BS.

[7] Badiou, Alain. 2007a. Being and Event. London: Continuum Press. Henceforth B&E.

[8] “The names used by a subject – who supports the configuration of a generic truth – do not, in general, have a referent in the situation.”The names of the subject, in general, do not refer to pre-existing categories of the situation, unlike in classical Marxism, where the name for the subject proletariat correlates absolutely to an objective stratum: the working class. B&E:398.

[9]The pinnacle of great politics is the moment in which the enemy comes into view in concrete clarity as the enemy.” Schmitt, Carl. 1963. On the Concept of the Political. Telos Press: New York. p.4.

[10] B&E:391.

[11] See, for instance, the account of contradiction in Tse-Tung, Mao. 1977. On the correct handling of contradictions among the people. In. Tse-Tung, Mao. 1977. Five Essays in Philosophy. Peking: Foreign Language Press. pp. 79-96. Henceforth FE.

[12] Lenin, Vladimir Illich. Revolution at the Gates: A Selections of Writings from February to October 1917. Verso: London.

[13] “Badiou was and still is a Maoist, even though no longer the same Maoist he once was.” Bosteels, Bruno. 2005. Post-Maoism: Badiou and Politics. Positions 13:3. p.576.

[14] Take for instance the following statement by Hallward: “It is as if Badiou’s recent work positively embraces a version of what Hegel dubbed the unhappy consciousness- the stoical affirmation of a worthy ideal or subjective principle, but as divorced from any substantial relation to the material organization of the situation. It seems that the Maoists’ mistake was not their emphasis on the generic, or even their understanding of what was required to make it a historical reality, but simply their determination to apply this understanding to the world.” BS:242.

[15] Badiou, Alain. 1976. De l’idéologie. Paris: François Maspero.Yenan “syntheses”. Henceforth DI.

[16] Badiou, Alain. 1975. Théorie de la contradiction. Paris: François Maspero.Yenan “syntheses”. Henceforth TDC.

[17] Badiou, Alain. 1998a. Abrégé de Métapolitique. Paris: Seuil. Henceforth AM.

[18] The second restoration, for Badiou, refers to the period after the end of the party as a possible project for politics – after the Cultural Revolution – and the emphasis on the absence of any notion of a universal good. See TC:45-60, and the first half of Badiou, Alain. 2001. Ethics: an essay on the understanding of evil. London: Verso. Henceforth E.

[19] TC:45.

[20] Here I largely follow the reading set out by Badiou in DI: 45-90, 122-3.

[21] Marx, Karl. 1974. The Civil War in France. Progress Publishers: London.

[22] Badiou:2005b:643.

[23] As it is presented, with remarkable continuity, in both DI and TC, works which span a thirty year period.

[24] BS:43.

[25] TC:45. One must note the precise wording of the text: the ruin of the old does not ensure the passage to the new; the new will be at an absolute disjuncture to the previous objective situation. Nevertheless, the new will be destructive of the situation, and it is only on the basis of this destruction that the new can come about. Badiou develops his analysis of the conditions of the party via a reading (TC:39-47) of a text by Brecht, The Proletariat wasn’t born in a white vest. What is crucial to understand in this reading is that it is resolutely undialectical; nothing of the new can be seen as given by the objective situation that will be overcome; it is not in the present that one finds the seed of the future. To give this thought its properly anti-Hegelian spin: the rose is not here. (See the famous preface in Hegel, Georg. 1992. Elements of the Philosophy of Right. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press). Henceforth EPR.

[26] TC:11-25

[27] Ibid:16.

[28] See Lukacs, Georg. 1970. Lenin: A Study of the Unity of His Thought. New Left Books: London. Henceforth LS, and Lukacs, Georg.1971. History and Class Consciousness. Merlin: London. Henceforth HC.

[29] HC:327-8.

[30] Badiou, Alain. 2005a. Further selections from Théorie du sujet on the Cultural Revolution. Positions 13:3. p.643.

[31] TDC:64.

[32] Quoted TC:53.

[33] AM:35.

[34] Badiou, Alain. 2007b. A Musical Variant of the Metaphysics of the Subject. Parrhesia. No.2. p.35.

[35] TC:102.

[36] Badiou does not use the word freedom; he instead uses subtraction, or unlinking (déliée). Freedom is chosen here to set up the explicit comparison with Hegel that will follow, though in making such a comparison, it will be made clear the important differences that underlie this choice of vocabulary.

[37] Badiou, Alain. 1998b. Petit Manuel d’inésthétique. Paris: Seuil. p.56. Henceforth PM. The italics in the quote are my own, and are meant, yet again, to draw attention to the profoundly materialist conception of truth that Badiou has.

[38] Quoted in BS: 285. From (1991) L’Etre, l’événement et la militance [interview with Nicole-Edith Thévenin]. Futur antérieur 8. p.21.

[39] Hegel, Georg. 1977. Phenomenology of Spirit. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Sections 585-595. pp.357-363. Henceforth PoS.

[40] PoS:357. Italics in the original.

[41] As Charles Taylor succinctly says: “The dream of absolute freedom cannot tolerate any structures and differentiation in society whereby people would have different functions in relation to the state…But, argues Hegel, this means no working state can be created…[for] this is the negation of absolute freedom; for according to this each man would will everything that the state did, would thus create by his will the totality of political and social conditions in which he lived; and this is incompatible with the kind of differentiating structure which gives man his place and function.” Here we see most explicitly the divide between knowledge and truth that is the cornerstone of Badiou’s work, anticipated in Hegel’s dialectic. See Taylor, Charles. 1997. Hegel. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. pp.185-6.

[42] One should here also see EPR: Part Three: Ethical Life. pp. 187-199. Given the lack of space, my account is necessarily compressed, and distorts Hegel to bring out the points of resemblance to Badiou. This is to say, I simply assert Hegel’s argument, rather than unfolding the complex dialectical proof he gives in PoS.

[43] Merleau-Ponty, Maurice. 1969. Humanism and Terror: An Essay on the Communist Problem. Beacon Press: London.

[44] TC:51-57.

[45] Ibid:52-53.

[46] Ibid:53.

[47] See, for instance, the way Adorno takes the categories of freedom and improvisation in music to be reflective of the commodity structure. Adorno. 2001. The Culture Industry. Routledge: London. pp.29-61.

[48] Marx, Karl. 1987. The German Ideology: Introduction to a critique of Political Economy. Lawrence & Wishart: London. pp.4-48.

[49] This difference is under lied by a much more theoretical argument I do not have time to develop here. Briefly, Badiou’s accusation in Being and Event is that Hegel cannot understand how a bad infinite (simple repetition) can be qualitatively transformed without understanding the disjunctural element of the change. This has ramifications for our argument here, because it is precisely in their differing conceptions of the nature of relation that Badiou and Hegel differ in respect to revolutionary, or absolutist politics. See B&E:161-169.

[50] TC:56.

[51] Ibid.

[52] TC:61.

[53] My primary sources for the account I give of the Cultural Revolution are Badiou, Alain. 2005c and Badiou, Alain. 2006. Logiques des Mondes. Paris: Seuil. pp. 29-36. Henceforth LM.

[54] AM:35.

[55] DI:128.

[56] Bosteels:2005:575-600.

[57] FE:60-71.

[58] Badiou:2005a:649.

[59] This is evidently very similar to Badiou’s position in both his earlier and later works: while an event emerges in a situation – it is resolutely materialist and not transcendental – is cannot be related to the situation: indeed, its impossibility of being accounted for by the presentation of the situation is what qualifies it as an event in the first place.

[60] Group for the Foundation of the Union of France Marxist-Leninist (UCFML). 2005. Maoism: A stage of Marxism. Positions. 13:3. pp. 517

[61] Thought the extent to which Badiou pays homage to Mao is clear. “I can say “our”, I was part of it, and in a certain sense, to quote Rimbaud, “I am there, I am still there.”” Badiou:2005c:481.

[62] Mao, quoted LM:34.

[63] E:98.

[64] Mao, quoted LM:31.

[65] Zizek, Slavoj. 2005. Mao Zedong: the Marxist Lord of Misrule. http://www.lacan.com/zizmaozedong.htm. Accessed 11.12.2007.

[66] E:105.

[67] TC:64.

[68] BS:242

[69] Ibid.

[70] B&E:396.

[71] Ibid:394.

[72] BS:287.

[73] In Zizek’s memorable formulation: what first appeared impossible now appears necessary. Zizek, Slavoj. 2007. Badiou: Notes from an ongoing debate. http://www.lacan.com/zizou.htm. Accessed 3.1.2008.

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