Showing posts with label Dasein. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dasein. Show all posts

Monday, 16 February 2015

Biopolitics on the Installment Plan*


1.  Other Temporalities
2.  The Deep State of Exception or Deep Police
3.  What is Agamben’s Camp?
4.  The Biopolitical Dispositif  


1.  Other Temporalities

Biopolitical thought or the thought of the biopolitical is trapped in the black hole of the so-called ontological difference, Heidegger’s name for the distinction between beings or entities and Being (the Many and The One) – precisely because Life has become a metaphysical principle – an ultimate ground, a cause.  For Agamben at least, metaphysics and politics of the West converge – so that in his biopolitical thought, Life is, as he writes in Homo Sacer Sovereign Power and Bare Life, “Not simple natural life, but life exposed to death (bare life or sacred life) (…)” and it is this peculiar Life which “is the originary political element.” (Giorgio Agamben, Homo Sacer, Stanford, 1998, p. 88) 

Life (bare life, bios etc) though – in the Heideggerian catechism – as a ground, is an Abgrund or a groundless abyssal ground – the need of the ground never disappears.  Perhaps that is why biopolitics is tainted with an immanent bipolarity of being both biopolitics and thanatopolitics – politics of life and politics of death.  Instead of a ground there is a sort of givenness of Being, a contingency of ‘thrownness’.  The lack of mediation or chorismos or unbridgeable break between a first cause (like for instance Spinoza’s natura naturans) and the unfolding of the cause as the phenomenal world – becomes itself a principle, a quasi-ground.

Life is a larva of Dasein.  Hence like Dasein Life (for biopolitics) is also a bizarre chimera whose ontic distinction is that it is ontological – by virtue of its reflexive ability, in being, to be an issue for itself.  Dasein is the only entity, which is also ontological – so in fact the ontological difference is suspended in Dasein – it is in force but does not apply – like the law, according to Agamben, in the ‘state of exception’.  Similarly, for Agamben, the ‘anomic’ construct of ‘living law’ – or law directly springing from the living body of the Führer or Il Duce – presumes the suspension of the ‘ontological difference’ between life and law.  Charismatic ‘auctoritas’ is opposed to ‘potestas’, the normative ‘rule of law’.  Yet at the same time ‘auctoritas’ – the amalgam of life and law in the charismatic ruler – is a quasi-transcendental illusion – the transcendental position or order of sovereignty – as Foucault would say ‘the place of the king’.  Sovereign power is once again irrevocably separated/severed from life.  And so the unceasing oscillation between the fiction of the immediate whole – life and law – and its continuous decay into its fragmented parts constitutes the perpetual work of the biopolitical machine.    

Hence I shall approach the question of biopolitics from both sides of the ontological difference – attempting to follow the moves and switches of its protean currencies. 

Dasein though in Heidegger’s magnum opus Being and Time undergoes at least one distinctive metamorphosis – especially crucial for biopolitical thought.  In Section 74 it departs its singular contingent/thrown mode, called fate (Schicksal), and co-historizes (Mitgeschehen) into a historical collectivity, a ‘generation’.  Dasein’s “full authentic historizing” (Geschehen) is a specific/particular destiny (Geschick) “of a community, of a people” -, here Dasein becomes ‘political’ and this ‘biopolitical body’ avant la lettre is implicitly German.

Heidegger, as a philosopher of Nazism, will later recognize Dasein’s Geschick (destiny) as being consummated in the German people, gathered in the Nazi movement and state.

The ontological difference inherent in Dasein and its ontic-ontological Mitgeschehen in the German Volk of the historical Nazi movement is reflected in other forms of ‘undecidability’.  Nazism itself in Heidegger’s philosophy inherits that exceptional ontic-ontological status of Dasein, especially after his ‘turn’ when Heidegger abandoned his overt existential analysis of Dasein in favor of the ‘history of Being’ (in a sense blurring the ontological difference).  The history of Being later flowed into the history of technology or techne: the encounter between technicity on a planetary level and modern man had been the inner truth and greatness of the Nazi movement – to paraphrase a well known interpolation in Heidegger’s Introduction to Metaphysics from 1935 – first published after much editing in 1953. 

Each successive metamorphosis of Dasein can be seen as Heidegger’s attempt to efface the rootedness of his philosophy in the Nazi project.  To little avail – biopolitics in the Heideggerian key proclaims the utter necessity of Nazism for thought in most unambiguous terms – like the psychoanalytic return of the repressed:  Roberto Esposito in an essay entitled “Nazism and Us” disentangles Nazism from communism as two forms of a single phenomenon called ‘totalitarianism’ – but he does so not to shield communism – but to place Nazism ‘outside’ of history – in a temporality of its own made of the “decomposition of modernity”.   If communism still belongs to the paradigm of modernity, which has exhausted itself – Nazism is closer to ‘us postmoderns’.  But the temporality/historicity of Nazism itself is neither reducible to modernity nor postmodernity.  It floats in a kind of atavistic species-time.  The temporality of Nazism for Esposito alternates between the transcendental of Life – and the modern archaic (“the permanence of the origin at the moment of its leaving” (Communitas)) as opposed to communism’s transcendental of history. Agamben speaks similarly of Nazism’s modern rediscovery of arcana imperii.  Since – as Esposito posits – communism has disappeared from our contemporary field – all that’s left for us is Nazism and its unique temporality as the “realization of biology” out of the death of the modern. 
“(…) not only is the problem, or the terrifying laceration, opened by Nazism anything but definitively healed but, in a certain way, it seems to come closer to our condition the more our condition exceeds the confines of modernity. (…) That is why, once the conceptual lexicon (if not the political exigency) of communism was worn out, we turned to reckon with that of Nazism, only to find it stamped across our foreheads.” (Roberto Esposito, Terms of the Political, Fordham University Press, 2013, p. 86)  

Giorgio Agamben considers the anomalous temporality of biopolitics, which for him too is synonymous with Nazism or its metonymic representative – the camp – from the point of view of sovereignty or sovereign power and not realized biology: “The present inquiry (Homo Sacer) concerns precisely this hidden point of intersection between the juridico-institutional and the biopolitical models of power. (…) the production of the biopolitical body is the original activity of sovereign power.  In this sense biopolitics is at least as old as the sovereign exception. Placing biological life at the center of its calculations, the modern State therefore does nothing other than bring to light the secret tie uniting power and bare life, thereby reaffirming the bond (…) between the modern and the archaic (…)”(Homo Sacer, ibid., p. 6)  

If Nazism merely recovers the forgotten potential of antique secret techniques of power – the archaic – in what way is that also modern?  And if the ancient revenant homo sacer - the ostracized man who can be killed by anyone, but not sacrificed – all highly archaic terms – is ‘bare life’ in the camp – it becomes even more difficult to understand what Agamben means by the camp as the biopolitical paradigm of the modern? And although Esposito sees in Nazism the decomposition of the modern as the realization of biology, biopolitics is for him undoubtedly constitutive of our contemporary world. But why Nazism must be so necessarily implicated in biopolitics qua modernity remains the 'unthought' premise of both these biopolitical philosophers.

Biopolitics, striking its roots in Nazism’s historical collapse and ruin, its decomposition of the modern, becomes a positive theory of contemporary society and of sovereign power whether in the form of a state or some more diffuse ‘exception’/ ‘state of exception’.  In biopolitical philosophy, concept and fact – or the ontological and the ontic - tend to merge into a positive hybrid with no remainder - what Agamben calls "the fact that decides on its own application".    

Foucault’s ‘new’ or salient definition ushering in the epoch of biopolitics in social and political theory “Modern man is an animal whose politics calls his existence as a living being into question.” predates the distinction between politics and ‘the political’.  But it distinctly echoes the declaration of the ‘ontological difference’ and Dasein’s exemption or special status in Being and Time:  “Dasein is an entity which does not just occur among other entities.  Rather it is ontically distinguished by the fact, that, in its very Being, that Being is an issue for it. (…) Dasein is ontically distinctive in that it is ontological.” (Martin Heidegger, Being and Time, Oxford, 2001, p. 32)  Although as one knows – Heidegger expressly denies Dasein any biological meaning or substance – Dasein is spatial but not embodied. And yet  - in the dissolving of the ontological difference on its account – Dasein assumes a hegemony in Being – or if the ontological difference is a reflection of the finitude of being/entities in relation to Being – Dasein escapes such absolute finitude.  Is it so surprising that Heidegger wanted to protect his exceptional creature from biological finitude?  How strange though that such a non-biological non-corporeal quasi-transcendental ‘subject’ should give birth to biopolitics, which exposes life directly/ sans merci to politics, the political or power.  








2 .  The Deep State of Exception or Deep Police

What is the state of exception of the deep state?  The deep state of exception?  Was Nazism the unearthing of the deep state?  Nothing needed to be concealed any more.  Was it perhaps the liberation of the deep state?  Marcuse refers to the direct dictatorship of the economic powers ‘behind’ the Nazi throne.  They did not need the state any more to rule.   The deep Nazi state was also the dismantling according to him of the Rechtsstaat – that masterpiece of Prussian jurisprudence which Hegel at least in part held in high esteem.  Odd that one seldom refers to the Nazi apparatus as a ‘police state’ – although what was Eichmann’s Gestapo other than a secret branch of the police?  But in the unchained form of the police state, which Nazism was – there was little need of secrecy.  The racial völkisch bond of the German people loosened the inner constraints of secrecy just as, according to Albert Speer, the organization of mass murder could hide ‘in the open’ behind the humdrum whirring of the Big technological Machine. 
The actual size of the Gestapo reflects the relative ease with which the ‘secret police’ could operate within the cohesive German majority population: “The Gestapo in 1937 had just over 7,000 employees including bureaucrats and secretarial staff.  Together with a far smaller force of police, they sufficed to keep tabs on more than 60 million people.  Most Germans simply did not need to be subjected to surveillance or detention.” (Götz Aly, Hitler’s Beneficiaries: Plunder, Racial War and the Nazi Welfare State, Picador, 2008, p. 29 cited by Prairie Fire (llco.org) in LLCO, June 7, 2011)

Conversely, the Nazi ruling body was itself a state of dissolution from the start – its various porous segments composed of the Nazi party, industry or monopoly capitalism, the Wehrmacht, the old and new bureaucracies and the Führer were a disassociation of warring apparatuses – as Franz Neumann shows in his classic study Behemoth.  Eventually with the rise of Himmler the SS formed a nascent state in state drawing on all of the other apparatuses – especially the economy.  Neumann raises the question if the Nazi conglomerate ever was a state? When Heidegger asks himself in Introduction to Metaphysics – “What is the State?” – the only examples he can think of are the state police arresting a suspect, the Führer speaking to the English foreign minister and the sound of clacking typewriters in a Reichsministerium taking dictation.  

Adorno draws a striking analogy between the subject/particular under the ban and Neumann’s characterization of the Nazi German Volksstaat or Behemoth – or rather the totality in how it effects the particular – precipitating its own breaking apart. “The more the society steers toward the totality, which reproduces itself in the ban/spell of subjects, the deeper too its tendency toward dissociation.  This latter threatens the life of the species, as much as it denies the ban of the whole, the false identity of subject and object.  The general, which compresses the particular as if by an instrument of torture, until it splinters, labours against itself, because it has its substance in the life (italics sm) of the particular; without it, it sinks down into the abstract, separate and eradicable form. Franz Neumann diagnosed this in the institutional sphere in Behemoth: the disassembly into disconnected and warring power-apparatuses is the secret of the total fascist state.” (Theodor W. Adorno, Negative Dialektik, Frankfurt, 1996, p. 337) 

But by another paradoxical movement of asymmetry – the singular is also a ‘beneficiary’ of the general – and in recognition of this effect – compulsively acts to repair (albeit futilely and temporarily) the tissue of the oppressive whole.  (For a study of the mutually beneficial symbiosis of the Nazi Volksgenosse and his/her Volksstaat see Götz Aly, Hitlers Volksstaat: Raub, Rassenkrieg und Nationalsozialismus, Fischer Taschenbuch, 2006/ Hitler’s Beneficiaries: Plunder, Racial War and the Nazi Welfare State, Picador, 2008)

The police state or the autonomous police acting within the nation state were rather late in developing – as Hannah Arendt notes in her work Origins of Totalitarianism.  Their extraordinary powers arose precisely in connection with the need to deal with those persons without a state, refugees mostly from Russia and Eastern and Southeastern Europe including Turkey – excluded from the normal legal rights of citizens after the first world war and its ensuing cumbersome ‘peace and minority treaties’ and fragile unsustainable new states.     In her analysis, these great masses of displaced populations eroded certain age old precepts of international law – especially the unwritten ones such as quid quid est in territorio est de territorio – whatever is on the territory is subject to the territory – which is the basis of the right of asylum.  These phenomena belong to the general complex of the “decline of the nation state” – out of whose decline or brokenness emerged the contrary movement – the rise of the police or the police state in the state. (Reiner Schürmann has described this topology in more noetic terms as “broken hegemonies”.)  The new state of the police is not to be confused with classic undercover or conspiratorial operations of the police in the style of the police minister Fouché, minister under Napoleon and under those who destroyed Napoleon – a type of police governance Stendhal describes so acutely and satirically in The Charterhouse of Parma nor with the enlightened police state of Joseph II of Austria organized around a system of spies and informers operating out of the tobacconist shops or Trafik in Vienna at a time when tobacco was a state monopoly.
Arendt makes it sound almost too simple:  “The nation-state, incapable of providing a law for those who had lost the protection of a national government, transferred the whole matter to the police.  This was the first time the police in Western Europe had received authority to act on its own, to rule directly over people; in one sphere of public life it was no longer an instrument to carry out and enforce the law, but had become a ruling authority independent of government and ministries.  Its strength and its emancipation from law and government grew in direct proportion to the influx of refugees.” (Hannah Arendt, Origins of Totalitarianism, New York, 1979,  p. 287)  She refers to the situation in France post World War I - where an order of expulsion issued by the police was far graver than one from the Minster of Interior – who could only rarely cancel such a police order.  Despite the fact, that constitutionally the police were under the authority of the Ministry of Interior.  

Before the outbreak of the 2nd World War the relations between the Gestapo and the police forces of other European countries were so cordial and independent of the official governments one could speak of a foreign policy of the police.  Such a policy had much to do with the transnational governance of exactly those stateless persons.  As Arendt describes – someone who had escaped from a concentration camp in Germany to Holland would be placed in an internment camp in Holland.  (Origins of Totalitarianism, ibid., see p. 288)  The ties between these self-governing police organs cleared the way for the later occupation.

[In the BBC series 37 Days about the prelude to World War I the characters discuss the Austrian ultimatum to Serbia after the assassination of the Archduke Franz Ferdinand – demanding Austrian policing or co-policing in Serbia.  When one of the British officials is amazed by such a breach of sovereignty – another says that it is nothing unusual for police to cooperate across borders.   Although historical fiction – it is a most plausible view, considering the fear of anarchist movements dogging the monarchies and dynasties of the 19th century – that the police began their autonomous life long before the refugees started their mass migrations.]

In light of this historical empirical situation, Carl Schmitt’s famous opening line of his Political Theology “sovereign is he who decides on the exception” (written at exactly this time in history) appears less the flaunting of sovereign supra-legal power (this is how Agamben will present it) – than a reaction to a defacto existing loss of power of the sovereign to other agencies – in this case the police.  
  
The ‘decline of the nation-state’ in Arendt’s phrase – or rather the ending of states and empires after the First World War, hollowed out sovereignty and consequently the status of citizens and subjects.  An absolute loss of power establishes in the minds of theorists such as Schmitt and Agamben the absolute sovereignty of the exception. Agamben’s idea of the sovereign ban is equally tinged by Heidegger’s “powerlessness of abandonment” – an effect of Dasein’s superior power of being free for death, its finite freedom.  What is more of an exception for a state than when it collapses and becomes extinct?  Is its collapse itself part of the state?  Or is the state’s in extremis part of the ‘deep state’?
Schmitt writing his Four Chapters on the Concept of Sovereignty, after the German Kaiserreich’s ignominious defeat and end in World War One, insists defiantly on an even more absolute sovereignty – the suspension of all law in the sovereign decision on the exception – with the idea/hope perhaps that this would prevent the worst from happening again.

If the sovereign decision is the negation of State law – then the positive ‘body’ to rise in this void is the biopolitical police – or the fusion of politics and police – whereby the police become masters of the ‘care of life’ hence Life’s overseer or governor.  The police are the instrument through which the state intrudes ever deeper into the despotic ancient regime of the oikos – the household – and inversely the paterfamilias’ absolute power over life and death (vitae necisque potestas) invades the functioning of the state.  The deep state of exception gives birth to the deep police.







In Benjamin’s terms in Critique of Violence written also during this time (1920-21) – the police became the fusion of law making and law preserving power or violence. Benjamin saw the coinciding of these powers in the hands of the police as a sign of the decrepitude of the Weimar parliamentary system.  Derrida in his essay Force of Law takes umbrage at this particular observation of Benjamin about the police in Weimar Germany - seeing it as an inexcusable slur upon ‘the spirit of the police’ in general.  More importantly, Benjamin violates Derrida’s and deconstructionism’s holy principle of iterability.
The identity of law founding power or violence and law preserving power or violence is one of its axioms.  Iterability means for Derrida’s concept of law and justice – the infinite repetition of the mystical foundation of authority at every moment as if happening now for the first time. 

Benjamin’s historical vision is the more lucid one – especially considering the post Weimar transformations of the police apparatus in Nazi Germany.
The organization most representative of the Nazi regime was the Reichssicherheitshauptamt – Reich Security Head Office – a hybrid of police and SS, a novel invention of the Nazi arcanum dominationis. Himmler who created it was its supreme ministerial head.  His double title was chief of German Police and Reichsführer-SS.  The official task of the Reichssicherheitshauptamt was to find and eliminate the enemies of the Reich inside and outside the borders of Nazi Germany.  Its numerous subdivisions included the Sipo, the security police comprised of the Gestapo and the Criminal Police, and SD, the SS intelligence service. The RSHA as it was called was in charge of all deep police operations inside and outside the Reich from domestic criminal police matters, to Nazi indoctrination to the death squads accompanying the Wehrmacht (the German army) in Eastern Europe and all other stages of genocide.

In effect, Agamben almost reduces biopolitics to the rise of the police – not yet quite the camp, the genealogy of the police is biopolitics’ rather unspectacular back entrance or back room.  But the police were not just suddenly entrusted with the administration of surplus refugee population (as Arendt suggests) – the so-called science of the police had been evolving since the 18th century, concerned with the ‘care and well-being of the population proper’.  

Echoing one another Agamben and Esposito follow Foucault’s cue – giving utmost weight to the role of the police, in the ‘genealogy of biopolitics’, above that of the Christian tradition of the pastorate (the confession), and a related ‘art of government’.  The old style sovereignty over territory influenced by physiocratic thinking saw in it a possession, granting sovereignty unlimited prerogative to extract value from its natural and human resources – now the ‘government of men’ must nurture and discipline the human resources qua population or species, of course ultimately to maximize productivity and benefit the state. 

Pastoral care is a form of disciplinary institution based on the relation of a shepherd and his flock.  A similar idea of governance emerged in the 6th century amongst the nomadic empires of Central Asia – nomadic conquerors such as the Avars or Huns had to change themselves from ‘shepherds of sheep to shepherds of men’.  The Ottomans later perfected this rather unstable form of government in the 14th century under Murat the First.  It was during his reign that the Ottomans (now sedentary nomads) with the Janissaries, Murat’s praetorian guard of Moslem converts, conquered much of the Balkans.  The Ottoman ‘art of government’ consisted of choosing and training ‘human watchdogs’ to manage and control the ‘herd of men’ and the human neighbors of the herd. (see Lord Kinross, The Ottoman Centuries, New York, 2002, pp. 51-53)
In the West, the disciplinary institutions and structures of schools, armies, barracks, hospitals etc were also the mode of hegemonic subjectivation and subjection. 

Von Justi the 18th century author of Elements of the Police introduces a new distinction between politics and the police.  Politics has a strictly negative authority – it is engaged in the control of the internal and external enemy – the sovereign defending the territory; the police though are positively concerned with the welfare of the population.  Agamben turns this distinction into an identity of politics and police which he discovers in Nazi biopolitics – claiming it cannot just be seen as ‘racism’ in a biological sense, but should be regarded in the context of this 18th century police science legacy:   “National Socialist biopolitics moves, (…) in a horizon, in which the “care of life” inherited from eighteenth-century police science is, in now being founded on properly eugenic concerns, absolutized. (…) National Socialist biopolitics (…) cannot be grasped if it is not understood as necessarily implying the disappearance of the difference between the two terms:  the police now becomes politics, and the care of life coincides with the fight against the enemy. (…) Only from this perspective is it possible to grasp the full sense of the extermination of the Jews, in which the police and politics, eugenic motives and ideological motives, the care of health and the fight against the enemy become absolutely indistinguishable.” (Homo Sacer, ibid., pp. 146-147)

In other words, following Agamben’s argument, National Socialist biopolitics – by and large consisting of the extermination/genocide of European Jewry – was in essence an action of this new deep police.  The police in Agamben’s words are modern politics’ method of “giving form to life” – not just in the Third Reich.  

Here Agamben’s concept of biopolitics parts ways from that of Foucault and Esposito – or rather they both remain undecided about how to classify biopolitics itself.  When sovereign power or the state dissolves into Agamben’s identity of politics and the police, does it then inexorably unleash or reveal the biopolitical ‘scythe’, so-called thanatopolitics?  Is biopolitics then rather a symptom or form of the decomposition of the sovereign political state of citizens and the general will (the declaration of the rights of man and citizen)?  Foucault, writes Esposito remains unresolved about his two models, ‘running in two directions’ – the sovereignty model (juridico-political hegemony) and the biopolitical model.  Are they one and the same or different from each other?  Esposito describes these two positions as ‘continuous’ or ‘discontinuous’ – meaning are sovereignty, biopolitics and totalitarianism implicit in one another or does biopolitics constitute a break or rupture of sovereignty?  In effect, Agamben admits that biopolitics is not seamlessly continuous with the sovereignty of citizens or the Rechtsstaat, noting that even in Nazi Germany – the most full blown biopolitical regime in history – Nazi officials felt obliged to completely denationalize Jewish German citizens before they sent them to the gas chambers.

The reason Foucault remains cautious, according to Esposito, eventually abandoning the biopolitical line of query is quite clear:  “(…) if the thesis of indistinction between sovereignty, biopolitics, and totalitarianism were to prevail – the continuist hypothesis – he would be forced to assume genocide as the constitutive paradigm (or at least as the inevitable outcome) of the entire parabola of modernity.” (Roberto Esposito, Bíos, Biopolitics and Philosophy, Minneapolis, 2008, p. 43)   

Foucault’s hesitation, the ‘abyss’ he looked into, though is precisely at the point where Agamben unveils his theory of modernity which he calls unambiguously – the camp as biopolitical paradigm of the modern or alternatively the camp as nomos of the modern.









3.  What is Agamben’s Camp?

Agamben develops his idea of the camp most thoroughly in his book Homo Sacer – Sovereign Power and Bare Life.  The English translation shows an architectural drawing on its front cover – one of the versions of the Auschwitz ‘master plan’– lest there be any doubt about the contents.  In Homo Sacer Agamben offers several definitions or situations/positions with which or from which to regard the camp – from a fairly minimal one, at a maximum distance from its exterminatory genocidal aspect, to a maximum ascription, at the minimal distance from its determinate genocidal form.  The minimal signifier camp means simply the ‘historical disjunction between birth and nation’.  Birth no longer automatically inscribes the individual in the nation.  Here Agamben defers to Hannah Arendt’s analysis of the impact of refugees on the political history or decline of the nation-state;
the plight of the refugee is both a prototype of this disjunction and its evidence. 

The old nomos, a term borrowed from Carl Schmitt again, was the trinity: land (physical territory), order (state) and birth (nation).  This nomos is now broken – its new regulator is the 4th pillar – the camp.  The camp decides on the inscription of birth in the nation.  Birth in that Heideggerian turn of phrase, is now an issue for the new nomos.  Natality thus is already bare life – even before it is born. “The growing dissociation of birth (bare life) and the nation-state is the new fact of politics in our day, and what we call camp is this disjunction.” (Homo Sacer, ibid., p. 175)  In this minimal definition there is little spatiality – let alone physicality.  The camp is a kind of bureaucratic stoppage – a break in the mechanism of sovereignty, a symptom of its brokenness and at the same time its regulative principle.  Birth today for Agamben thus has no place - or a non-place, - or rather every birth has its first ideal place – the camp.   The new nomos is at least in part the camp as the principle of including birth by way of excluding it from the nation-state, a variation of the sovereign ban. 

But Agamben does not stop at this minimal claim.  He contends that the camp is the biopolitical paradigm of the modern.  The camp thus is biopolitics itself and as such defines the modern era, modernity.  His minimal claim comes to soften or prepare the site for his maximal claim.  But one still does not know the spatiality of this camp – as a spatial entity it is again only a function of the juridical structure or condition he calls a ‘state of exception’ when the law is suspended – the camp is a localizing kit, where supposedly the state of exception has become the rule, hence permanent.  Permanence is both temporal and in some unspecific way potentially spatial.  One still does not quite see how the ‘state of exception’ can be so restricted as to be in only one space – and at the same time be everywhere. Whatever its locale though, the camp as a “dislocating localization (it) is the hidden matrix of the politics in which we are still living, and it is this structure of the camp that we must learn to recognize in all its metamorphoses into the zones d’attentes of our airports and certain outskirts of our cities.” (Homo Sacer, ibid., p. 175)  

Those non-places, however, refer only to Agamben’s minimal claim – 
that the camp is sovereign power discharging itself upon new kinds of nomadism,  asylum seekers, people without papers, migrant workers, refugees from war zones and natural disasters, terrorism etc.   The “hidden matrix” alias the camp, also includes the intensive care wards and laboratories where doctors and scientists, according to Agamben, exercise sovereign-like power over neomorts, faux vivants and overcomatose creatures – those who hover between life and death, human and animal tissue.

The maximal camp of Agamben’s argument – is not a refugee camp, a temporary holding zone for people whose papers are not valid, nor a hospital ward – it is the death camp, built especially for the purpose of meting out death.  Quite simply it is Auschwitz.   Auschwitz is not a localization, it was a historical physical space for the arrival of transports, for barracks, gas chamber and crematoria and for the ‘new town’ especially constructed for the SS and its industrial enterprises.  Auschwitz in all of its 48 sub-camps was built as an artificial disciplinary town in the middle of nowhere – modelled on another sort of camp - the Roman military camp whose 17th century revivals Foucault describes in Security, Territory and Population.  But unlike these towns Auschwitz was also destined ideally to ‘capitalize’ the still unfinished eastward expanding territory of the 1000 year Reich. 

But is it possible to combine these two camps – the minimal refugee camp, including the hospital ward and the maximal historical death camp?  Is the refugee question identical with the genocide of European Jewry and its localities?  It would seem rather, that the refugee question serves Agamben as a kind of ‘screen memory’ to borrow Freud’s term within the text for that other question ‘the final solution’ which must be suppressed and expressed at the same time – in other words a way of forgetting whilst remembering and enunciating.  Auschwitz is both erased and kept – in that refrain of Agamben – like the law, it is in force but does not apply. Law figures in his analyses as the term for the political, the sovereign, and the ban – the ontological.

The Nazi exterminatory drive was not haphazard nor opportunist – they did not wait for refugees to uproot themselves so they could denationalize them - they ripped the Jewish people as a group from their national habitats – where they were citizens – creating these circumstances in one European country after another.  This was done according to plan.  

The Jewish person caught up in the relentless mechanism of Nazi genocide was decidedly not a refugee. Refugees are a contingent mass – arising as an effect of major upheavals – wars, natural disasters, collapse of states, famine, plague etc. – Nazism was all of that in intentional human form.

The Jewish people were fake refugees – they did not flee and present themselves in a new place.  Rather they were made to look like refugees.  The familiar images from the midst of genocide – the lines or columns of Jewish men, women and children carrying their belongings tied up in blankets or in suitcases, marching through empty streets – their yellow stars on their coat sleeves, faces etched in weariness and a certain aloofness – these images are fabrications of the Nazi cinematography of genocide.  They had to look like refugees as they passed through Polish, Russian, Lithuanian, Ukrainian etc streets to keep up the fiction of resettlement.  Although no one was fooled for long.  It was a fake exodus of the people known for their exoduses – these were not refugee treks along lines of flight.  These scenes were as Agamben correctly recognized – the mise en scène of police actions.  Occasional armed police guards, as if there to escort them to safety are sometimes visible on the margins of these photographs.   

In whatever country the Germans had invaded and occupied, the stages of genocide followed a standard pattern – first was the definition of who was considered to be a Jew, then the legislation forcing these so defined persons gradually or quickly out of economic, political and social life, the confiscating of their property, this could even go on for several years as in the unusual case of the Jews of Hungary, but eventually they were ghettoized or incarcerated in a transit camp like Drancy – the pre-camp space of exception, only then stripped of citizenship, and the final stage was the transport to Auschwitz or one of the other death camps.  They were shipped like packages, already in the clutches of their murderers at discount rates paid for from their confiscated assets.   Their journey was not random; it did not have the uncertain destination of a singularly wandering refugee, the quarters awaiting them were not temporary constructions to house – but permanent constructions to murder.  Their itinerary was preordained by the German death machine and the railway timetable – as Alain Resnais says in his film Night and Fog – while the Jews of Europe were still living fairly carefree lives in all the corners of the continent – their barracks in the ‘new town’ – the camp and its crematoria were being built for them.   

It is this historical physical space which Agamben calls the most absolute biopolitical space ever – and it this site (his maximal claim) which is “the very paradigm of political space at the point at which politics becomes biopolitics and homo sacer is virtually confused with the citizen.” (Homo Sacer, ibid., p. 171) The space he speaks of here is one which cannot be duplicated – you won’t find it in our airports, or banlieues, – because besides its destructive, annihilatory task, the camp was a destinal, historial world in the Heideggerian sense.  Auschwitz was both locus and act of the genocidal rite de passage “by which the German biopolitical body is made actual” (ibid., p. 174) – in Agamben’s words. 

Auschwitz – and its brother and sister camps – is the historical unique space where Agamben’s two major concepts of bare life/homo sacer and state of exception coincided absolutely, the only space where mere killable but not sacrificable life (his definition of homo sacer) and the law of no law could invest each other with total grisly effect.  Homo sacer though continually changes costume in Agamben’s text – from werewolf, to outlaw, to man in the Hobbesian state of nature, to the sovereign himself, the Muselmann, the Führer and even the biopolitical body of the West – all are alternative persona/incarnations of homo sacer alias bare life.   
Agamben’s camp itself is an ontological allegory, a metaphysical topology, the biopolitical utopia of the West. 

If one had any doubt that Heidegger is inspiring this ensemble – Agamben confirms that Dasein is itself homo sacer – performing one of his typical re-investments of the same concept in a nearly opposite setting, the trick of the floating signifier. Suddenly, rising from the most abject depths of the Muselmann or the living corpse shuffling along its way to the crematoria - homo sacer becomes that ontic-ontological being “whose very own life is always at issue in its every act – instead becomes Dasein, the inseparable unity of Being and ways of Being, of subject and qualities, life and world.” (ibid., p. 153)  
Bare Life itself comes closest to Pure Being in the ontology of the west – just as metaphysics and politics in the West, according to Agamben, meet in Auschwitz on the so-called “ (…) threshold of absolute indistinction between law and fact, juridical rule and biological life.” (ibid., p. 187)  

This threshold crossing through Auschwitz is the defunct ontological difference.

Agamben’s provisional conclusion at the end of Homo Sacer is that the camp has replaced the city as the fundamental biopolitical paradigm of the West.  In Agamben’s ‘camp’ are buried his minimal and maximal versions, - the refugee camp cum hospital and the Vernichtungslager (extermination camp), the screen memory and the repressed forbidden content.  In this portmanteau form, the camp or Auschwitz has migrated from the extreme outer reaches, the outside of the permanent state of exception to the heart of Western politics –, now understood only as biopolitics - to become its ontological capital.









4.   The Biopolitical Dispositif

Esposito alone attempts to unravel what that ‘secret tie’ is between ‘us post-moderns’ and Nazism – it follows from his rejection of totalitarianism as a concept adequate to both Soviet Communism and Nazism.  In his essay “Totalitarianism or Biopolitics: Towards a Philosophical Interpretation of the Twentieth Century”, he contends that Nazism can no longer be filed away with Communism under the genus totalitarianism (the well-known thesis of Arendt), they must be disunited/separated.  Communism is more related to the Western political tradition of the French Revolution – egalitarianism, universalism, historical becoming, transcendence, democracy, rights of man – than it is to Nazism or Nazism to the French Revolution.  Hence one is free to discover Nazism’s secret ties to liberalism until now overshadowed by the paradigm of totalitarianism.  Citing Carl Schmitt’s essay of the 1920s The Crisis of Parliamentary Democracy Esposito observes – liberalism is neither by nature nor necessity democratic – its logic is rather “anti-egalitarian, particularistic, and at times even naturalistic.” (Roberto Esposito, Terms of the Political, ibid., p. 108) 
Never mind that Carl Schmitt does not exactly make these claims in that essay – although he does point to affinities of dictatorship to democracy.  Liberalism in his view is not anti-egalitarian, but believes, as opposed to democracy, in an impossible ethical equality of all persons as persons – an empty equality – democracy in Carl Schmitt’s rendering is if anything more biopolitical than liberalism.  The equality of the sovereign people is substantive – they must be nearly homogeneous, consequently inequality of foreigners or aliens is a necessary condition of inner democratic equality.  But Esposito’s argument compels him to exaggerate the differences between liberalism and democracy in favour of his new correspondences. 

Relieved of the false alternative of totalitarianism or democracy, one can today recognize that the hidden regime, which unites liberalism and Nazism, is biopolitics.  Nazism is closer to us post-moderns not because historical Nazism is necessarily returning – but rather the biopolitical paradigm immanent in liberalism has raised its biopolitical precursor from the dead.  The interrupted continuity between liberalism and Nazism has been resumed.  Not Nazism itself – or a longing for its historical return – makes it indispensable as a matrix (skeletal key) of the present, but the contemporary desire to interpret/illuminate liberalism’s present biopolitical dispositif via biopolitics’ previous life as Nazism.  Liberalism’s self-knowledge of its own reality passes through Nazism.

A similar idea might have been behind Gillian Rose’s cryptic remark in the introduction to her 1992 essay The Broken Middle regarding the submerged political history coming to light/surfacing in the wake of the ‘revolutions’ of 1989: “The Revolution in the revolutions of 1989 has not ‘destroyed’ Marxism so much as it has dismantled post-war state-Socialism. (…)  All the debates, all the antinomies of modern state and society addressed since Hobbes, Smith and Rousseau, have been re-opened as well as the opportunity to resume the examination of the connection between liberalism and fascism from which post-war state-socialism has proved such a dangerous distraction.” (Gillian Rose, The Broken Middle, Oxford, 1992, p. xi) 

If Nazism was state biopolitics, liberalism, says Esposito, is biopolitics of the individual.  In Nazi biopolitics ‘man’ is his own body and nothing more than that.  But the state owns it.  In liberal biopolitics man has his own body and he owns it in freehold too.  But what does that really mean?  If Nazism is that explosive conjuncture in which power collides with life immediately – basing itself “on an absolutely natural given that concerns the bare biological sphere” in Esposito’s words (Terms of the Political, ibid. p. 106)  – how can liberal individual ‘ownership’ or possession of one’s body have that same political immediacy?

Ownership itself, whatever the property, is a legal term, not biopolitical. If the difference between liberal and Nazi biopolitics is simply the question of who owns the body – the individual or the state – biopolitics does not depart from age-old juridical models predating modernity, which determine the formal legal status of the person.  Locke whom Esposito cites marks the historical end of the power of the head of the household, the oikos – each person is now invested with the power to sell himself, as his own property.  Marx will call the biopolitical unit of the body – the commodity of labor power, the only asset/property of value the worker has to sell.  Of course this separation of body-self and sellable commodity is already an effect of the fetish character of the commodity.
Nazi biopolitics though would have hardly endorsed Locke’s “right to revolution”. 







Perhaps it is capitalism which is biopolitical and as such both Nazism and liberalism as variants modify its biopolitical dispositif in their contingent ways.  Eugenics, Darwinism and historicist race theories, all powerful precedents for Nazi biopolitics – originated in late Victorian liberal imperial Britain.  
Houston Stewart Chamberlain’s Foundations of the 19th Century was the bible of Nazi propaganda before Rosenberg wrote its sequel – The Myth of the 20th Century.  Chamberlain already spoke of the supremacy of the Aryan race – of proto Indo European provenance.  Chamberlain rejected Darwinism though in favor of Gestalt – but Rosenberg in The Myth of the 20th Century advocated a mystical Darwinism as the basis of the new Nazi religion.
Are perhaps Darwinism and social Darwinism the biopolitics of British imperial liberalism?  But already classic liberal political economy presumed the inevitability of periodic mass death as a result of dearth, overabundance of labour (power) hence subsistence wages and semi-natural disasters such as famine. Foucault’s ‘letting die’ was built into Adam Smith’s theodicy of the providential ‘invisible hand’ and the free reign of the market. (See Warren Montag, “Necro-economics, Adam Smith and Death in the Life of the Universal” in Radical Philosophy, 134, (November/December 2005)  

[Greece’s current ‘humanitarian crisis’ – or the austerity imposed on it by the dictates of the ‘Troika’ (European Commission, European Central Bank and the International Monetary Fund) is an example of such a market-induced ‘state of exception’.  Like in the times of Smith, Malthus and Bentham, if the poor refuse to die – the state or other authorities must intervene to assure that the 'regulative market mechanisms' are allowed to take their course.  As they continue to so successfully in present day Britain.  Some parts of the working class in ‘wealthy’ Britain earn such low wages they no longer can afford a new refrigerator when the old one breaks down – they are lured into ‘rent to own’ schemes, which eventually cost three times as much.  But when the Greek population rebels against a much more dire reduction of their living standard – the former Tory chancellor Kenneth Clarke condemns the rescue plans of those he dubs the “latter-day Trotskyites” from Syriza with a latter-day ‘let them die’: “It is nothing to do with just the Germans.  I can’t see why any other states should take a huge multibillion-pound hit again for the Greeks so they can hire more civil servants, raise their minimum wage, scrap all their labour market reforms and all the other things they want to do.” (Nicholas Watt, “Kenneth Clarke says Syriza victory risks Greek exit from eurozone” in Guardian online, 15 February 2015)]

But there must be more to biopolitics and its dispositif than this anecdotal evidence suggests.

If biopolitics is truly a dispositif, in the Foucauldian sense, then all the articulations of its reign – economic, political, architectural, discursive, gestural, technological, medical, criminological, bodies of grammar, bodies of pain, the world of things, the netherworld of thought, etc  - are captured within – including certainly philosophy and its methods.  Philosophy must be so formed in the biopolitical image that it too reflects that ascendancy of the bare biological sphere, the absolutely natural given, no longer needing the legitimacy of the idea, just the facts and nothing but the natural facts.  

And of course Esposito does not exclude philosophy from the biopolitical dispositif – particularly philosophy or rather its Heideggerian end – is at the heart of biopolitics.  But when he reflects philosophy’s turning within and towards biopolitics – it is not a biopolitical liberalism, which informs the new philosophical naturalism – it is once again simply Nazism.  Although, as he writes, Nazism suffered an absolute military and political defeat – it still commands a potent cultural and linguistic force – so much so that he recognizes in Nazism “the unprecedented attempt to liberate the natural features of existence from their historical distinctiveness” (Terms of the Political, ibid., p. 107). 

But Esposito claims that Nazism’s biopolitical being epitomized the 20th century even more profoundly – by far surpassing the totalitarian paradigm of the West – enacting the century’s real antithesis of nature and history, touching the deep vein of ‘the preservation of life’.  

But what Esposito describes, as Nazism’s singular deep attunement to the 20th century question of ‘the preservation of life’ in other words self-preservation would hardly amount to the specificity of Nazism or the 20th century.  Self-preservation is what Adorno and Horkheimer in Dialectic of Enlightenment call the Spinozist presupposition, the “true maxim of all Western civilization” (Theodor W. Adorno and Max Horkheimer, Dialectic of Enlightenment, Stanford, 2002, p. 22). “Conatus sese conservandi primum et unicum virtutis est fundamentum” (Baruch Spinoza, Ethics, Part IV, Proposition XXII, Coroll.) 
“The endeavor of preserving oneself is the first and only basis of virtue.”

Indeed preservation of life, freedom and property were the negative objectives of the liberalistic state of the 19th century.

‘Self-preservation’, as the ultimate rationale, sacrifices myth, nature and eventually bourgeois subjectivity itself to its self-alienated form in the capitalist technical apparatus.  As such, the preservation of life leads to utter denaturisation. Adorno relentlessly criticizes the tautological nature of the self-preservation principle – its rudimentary identity postulate – the means (self) and end (self) are the same/identical.  It is a crucial element of his critique of a certain kind of materialism or forms of ‘naturalism’ in philosophy – that are once again very popular or still popular today as one can see in Esposito or philosophies of the animal or the brain among others.  Naturalism (in philosophy) attaches itself to the idea of Life and the natural sciences/Life sciences – Bare Life – and is predominantly biologistic – hence ultimately the ‘birth of biopolitics’ is an aspect of this naturalism.

Adorno’s anti-Spinozist stance can illuminate some of the strategies of this argumentation – and their limitations. His critique of western metaphysics – or rather its post mortem – drives his almost obsessive disparaging of ‘stubborn self-preservation’ (Negative Dialektik, ibid., p. 336), especially in its function as a quasi axiom of western thought - the natural historical norm of conformity/adaptation/adjustment – die naturgeschichtliche Norm der Anpassung (ibid., p. 339). Natural history and world spirit (or metaphysics) become indistinguishable ‘under the ban’ – a mysterious expression which variously means experience as the equivalent of the fetish character of the commodity, the false identity of subject and object (identity philosophy), the sheer weight of ‘what is’ (mere existent – das bloß Seiende), interpersonal coldness – the bourgeois ideal of coldness.  So that spirit becomes natural history – a regression to animality (not second nature).  Animal behavior differs from human in that it is compulsive – but the animal species of humans has inherited some of this compulsiveness. Human reflection is our species-means to oppose or surpass this compulsiveness inherited from the animal species that we are.

But when reflection itself is ‘bestialized’ (a second corrupt degree of animality) and is recruited or hijacked by the ‘ban’ – this inversion of itself turns reason into what Kant calls ‘radical evil’, – neither human nor animal – a new order of mythical ban, a bewitchment, a wrongness of the heart, falseness  – inescapable universal claustrophobia of the closed system.  “As a ban” says Adorno “reified consciousness has become total.” (Negative Dialektik, ibid., p. 337) Instead of a transcendental subject or world spirit, the self-preserving subject is “bestialized self-preserving reason”, Adorno writes in Negative Dialectic. Such bestialized reason – in the service of self-preservation – is a kind of mutant reason – prevalent in a society which is devoid of spirit, where the Natural has assumed a “mythical violence/power” (recalling the terminology Benjamin uses in his essay Critique of Violence) and all categories of consciousness are ‘zombie’ effects of the ban, states of delusion. 

Bestialized self-preserving reason or reified consciousness is a grotesque spiritless spirit – the force that drives spirit out of the species, which it in turn idolizes, meaning spirit. (“Das Vertierte selbsterhaltender Vernunft, treibt den Geist der Gattung aus, die ihn anbetet.”, ibid., 339)
And this demonic mechanism, Kant refers to a ‘Satanslist’ (a satanic ploy) – encases human society as a whole and each particular/individual within and of it – so that in nothing do society and the individuated harmonize so greatly and completely as in the ban – it is the glue of society or the false identity between subject and object.  Agamben also speaks of the ban – but it is the infinite distance between sovereign power and bare life, the void of bare life’s abandonment by the law and its total subordination to sovereign power.

If though in Agamben’s ban it is only the misfortunate singularity homo sacer who is included by being excluded from the community, polis, society, - for Adorno it is all of society, which is under the ban, excluded from itself without knowing it.

Perhaps the ‘ban’ is the biopolitical dispositif itself – all knowing and as unknowable as Kant’s thing-in-itself.

Under the ban, ideology is the element of fatality – and through ideology one arrives back at the biological origin of the principle of individuation – the seemingly incontestable Spinozist sese conservareleading eventually to the repression of nature and subjectivity.

What lives – obeys, says Nietzsche’s Zarathustra.  







Bíos in Esposito’s sense is the term in which preservation of life and self can be read as the same.  In both liberalism and Nazism, the real victors of the last world war, according to Esposito’s biopolitical interpretation of history, the ‘corporeal dimension’ displaces the abstract subjectivity of the juridical person.   A true exemplar of identity philosophy – “bios is the object and subject of politics”. (Terms of the Political, ibid., p. 107) 

The reversals in Esposito’s biopolitical text, always lead back to Nazism – but now excluded, situated outside of Western philosophical tradition in a fortified space all its own.  If previously in the Western tradition, the philosophy of history gave meaning to otherwise senseless facts – now for Esposito’s trained biopolitical eye novel events are in themselves carriers of meaning or meaningful, in other words philosophic.  Events are philosophy – but only the major ones such as war, technology, freak eruptions like the Twin Towers, etc – and as immediately philosophical such events, like Nazism itself for instance, exude a power or will to power in a struggle to take over the world and consequently to dominate how the world is interpreted.  History has not vanished – it is the field where these event-philosophemes battle one another.  As Esposito claims: “(…) more than oil, arms or democracy, the metaphysical stakes of the conflict underway lie in the definition of the meaning of contemporary history.” (“Totalitarianism or Biopolitics: Towards a Philosophical Interpretation of the Twentieth Century”, Terms of the Political, ibid., p. 1o1)

In a philosophy conceived within this unique space of Nazism, after identifying the concrete event – which is already a philosophical will to power - there is a next step. 
Biopolitics is not just based on facts, ‘the absolutely natural given, the bare biological sphere’ – it requires and utilizes “effective languages to render these facts intelligible.” (ibid. p. 105)  So biopolitics has brought us back to philosophy – or even worse metaphysics.  A simple working definition of metaphysics would be precisely – a system of the intelligible which dominates or gives form to that which is not intelligible (like facts) – the sensible, the chaotic, the contingent.  Such intelligibility could also be called logos, the idea, the symbolic, a philosophy of history or modernity, mundus intelligibilis – the non-intelligible is nature, the sensual, the stochastic, mundus sensibilis – that which can only be apprehended through the medium of the intelligible such as consciousness, the unity of the person, a system of norms and values, the ‘new gaze’, the metaphysics of the subject.  But since the biopolitical event or fact is already laden with philosophical meaning – in other words ontic-ontological – both fact and law (as Agamben would say) – the ontic and the ontological – have become indistinguishable. Biopolitics has refashioned Nazism itself into an effective language granting intelligibility to all its own facts – something of the nature of what Reiner Schürmann calls a ‘hegemonic fantasm’: “(…) it justifies all that may become a phenomenon in the linguistic epoch that bears its hallmark; in this respect it is hegemonic.” (Reiner Schürmann, Broken Hegemonies, Bloomington, 2003, p. 7)  Through its linguistic power it commands phenomena, made intelligible for itself.  Nazism’s biopolitical power (or in Agamben’s terms – sovereign power) is the metaphysical doctrine of the intelligible,  – giving form to non-intelligible bare life, making it intelligible for power.

For the biopolitical dispositif that it constitutes, Nazism is a singular unity or positive totality: both a novel philosophical event and at the same time the effective philosophical language in which it renders its bare facts intelligible to itself.   Regarded translocally from the outside of the ban, – Nazism in its biopolitical incarnation is an undead faux vivant ‘hegemonic fantasm’ fatally unable to phenomenalize the fact of its own extinction.



* A version of the above text was first presented in the series “Sociology Talks” at the Sociology Department, Boğaziçi University, Istanbul on 27th March 2014. 

Monday, 7 May 2012

Self-Assertion of an English Garden (After-Life Topoi of Nazi Desire) Chapter 7


1.     Il faut cultiver notre jardin   
2.     Pêcheurs de lune
3.     Iterability of the Nazi State (Economy of Genocide)
4.     Growth (and Form/Morphe)
5.     Decay
6.     Pompes Funèbres
6.1.  Type (Model, Example, Tupos)
6.2.  Usus Tyrannus (Interlude)
6.3.  The Ageing of a Note
7.      Critique of Beginnings
8.      Demonology of Defeat 




7.      Critique of Beginnings

Daß es zu den bösen Häusern hinausgehen muß, sieht man ja gleich im Anfang.” (“That it must go out to the bad houses, one sees that right in the beginning.”), Goethe

Oikos versus Polis

What does Heidegger then mean when he speaks of the “abyss of self-being” (Abgrund des Selbstseins)?  How does that co-exist (in the sense of falling away from being) with “self-assertion” (Selbstbehauptung)?  ‘Form of life’ for Agamben in Means without Ends is something, which ‘shields’ life from its bareness, its abandonment to sovereignty.  Not as in Esposito – for whom the form of life, which is community, is itself the site of my abandonment.

The emptiness of ‘my’ is not only linguistic alienation, it is linguistic nihilism.  Because language is paradigmatically a form of life, a relation into which I render my lack and there where community disappropriates me from myself through its rules – its acts of speech – I lose myself to the community in every act of speech.  Nostalgia is my longing for the nameless, speechless.
The political is not the extraordinary – it is the ordinary per se.  The political is the form of the common – how can one have a politics of the not-common (uncommon)?  The exceptional is in the “excess of common sense” – a superabundance of the ordinary, which leads to madness (according to Derrida in The Politics of Friendship).  Referring to Carl Schmitt’s The Concept of the Political he explains: “We are simply formalizing a principle of ruin or spectrality at the heart of this discourse on the political, a discourse of madness allied to an excess of common sense.” (Jacques Derrida, The Politics of Friendship, London/New York, 2005, p. 130)  

Fascism/Nazism lie precisely in this realm of the “excess of common sense”.  The by now commonplace definition of fascism which sees in it an ‘aestheticization of the political’ or ‘the political as a work of art’ has thereby immediately relegated the aesthetic to the same region of ‘common sense’.  [“(…) L’esthétisation de la politique, c’est-à-dire la politique comme religion artistique (ce qui est une définition possible du fascisme): “the aestheticization of the political, that is to say the political as an artistic religion (this is a possible definition of fascism)”, Alain Badiou, De la dialectique négative dans sa connexion à un certain bilan du Wagner, 1° partie, January 2005, online)].

More generally, any logical-historical contiguity between politics and a transcendent ‘non-political’ (art, thought) will invariably collapse into or “end in politics” – a quasi-axiom captured in the title of Lacoue-Labarthe’s essay on Heidegger’s “Rektoratsrede” (Inaugural Address) – “Transcendence Ends in Politics”.  Politics is the power of the common (the will to the common) over all singular or collective human action and substance. (One could also substitute - the same - for common.)  Politics is also the domain of the standard, the norm, of the average thus predictable quotidian interest.  What does the aestheticization – even more the artistic religion of the average look like?  Or is fascism (and its non-identical cousin Nazism) the way the average looks at itself ‘aesthetically’ as not average?

Hegel interprets Sophocles’ play Antigone in Phenomenology of Spirit as the demise of the ‘sittliche Substanz’ (moral substance) of the family and its suppression by the universality (Allgemeinheit) of the state.  His interpretation reveals that in both ‘blood universality’ and ‘formal universality’ the singular (das Einzelne) is ‘unreal’ (unwirklich). The “Unreality” (Unwirklichkeit) of the singular is perhaps the hidden continuity of the two formations.  Antigone is not just the abandoned figure of the demise of the family – its ‘moral substance’ (as the principle of collective life) was founded in the tragic history of a particular family – that of Oedipus and his multiple ‘family crimes’ – patricide and incest with his mother Jocasta.  Antigone is the fruit of this incestuous union.  Her tragic fate is also an example of the Greek view of how crime is bequeathed and its effects visited upon the subsequent generations of a family.  (Herodotus writes in his History how the crime of Gyges is still punished in the fourth generation in the figure of Croesus).  The drama of Antigone shows both the acting out of the ‘fate’ of Oedipus in the next generation and the historical surpassing of the rule of blood in itself.  Antigone is “unreal” because her fate is predetermined by the circumstances of her birth – her relation to ‘blood’.  In the family of Oedipus the “universality of blood” was not just sacrificed to the new formal universality, the epochal change embodied in the ascendant state – the Oedipal family was also condemned to fulfil a curse, one of those unprovoked divine judgements acted before any transgression.  (In Buddhist cosmology such a curse would be seen as punishment for crimes in a former life, not just a preceding generation.)  Doom is twofold.  Blood carries out its own immanent History, synonymous with tragedy, directly.  Memory is immediately genetic, and as such History – of blood.  Oddly Hegel does not refer to the particular history of Antigone and her family – he describes her simply as a representative of the old higher ‘divine’ law – the law of the community, the clan and its funeral rites – abandoned and surpassed by the new law of an impersonal ‘universality’ (Allgemeinheit).  The Greek tragedy though shows the extinction of a royal family, which has transgressed not just the laws of the appearing state – but also the laws of the family – of blood – they are guilty of violating the incest taboo and the interdict against murder of kin.
The immediate prehistory of the play – merely emphasizes the inexorable self-destruction of this incestuous family molecule – the two brothers (sons of Oedipus and Jocasta) have killed one another in a war of succession.  Creon deems one dead brother, Eteocles as a legitimate successor – the other dead brother Polynices is the ‘outlaw’ – and Antigone’s loyalty to the outlaw is the reason for her own death sentence.  Creon’s declaring of one branch of the transgressive family as legitimate for no particular reason – is sheer expediency.  The unity of law and hegemony must be preserved – the ‘bad blood’ of the family buried, but posthumously surviving in the new legitimacy of the state.  Hegel seems to say as much – the “dead spirit” (“dieser gestorbene Geist”) is incorporated (aufgehoben) in the new universal body and its constituent atoms – suggesting that new formations of spirit (institutions of state and law) are the afterlife of the old ones, come to gloss over and profit from the unbearable corruption of the deceased spirit – the dead ancestor. 
“The universal is splittered into the atoms of absolutely multiple individuals; this spirit, having died, is an equality in which all count for as much as each and each and all count as legal persons.”(G.W.F. Hegel, Phenomenology of Spirit, Pinkard translation, PDF online, p. 431)
[“Das Allgemeine, in die Atome der absolut vielen Individuen zersplittert, dieser gestorbene Geist ist eine Gleichheit, worin Alle als Jede, als Personen gelten. -”, (G.W.F. Hegel, Phänomenologie des Geistes, Frankfurt, 1976, p. 355)]

The old dead blood speaks through the new law.

Antigone possesses more raison d’état than Creon, a rather inept legislator and administrator of the new state – she is instinctively moved to bury the transgressive fratricidal body of the incest clan – to end the spectacle of its putrefaction on the plain outside the city walls of Thebes.  The sight of the physical remains of the old ruling power becoming carrion, visible for all, is a danger for the new power.  Creon is a divided figure of transition – burying just one brother properly, refusing to bury the other one, and then burying Antigone alive who wises to correct his error of omission - the complete burial of the dead ‘spirit’ of the defunct royal family.

It is the ‘cunning of spirit’ – that the metamorphosed dead spirit of blood – in itself hermetic, exclusive and unequal – should be transformed into an equality of atomic parts – where all is everyman – and this everyman is the legal person.  The legal person is the fundamental concept of the law – it supplants the biological singular – the unreal splitter of the clan based on blood ties.  Hegel considers civil law and the concept of the legal person, the empty mask, the creation of Rome.  The Nazi entity regressed historically in the Hegelian sense of a dialectical movement of spirit – but to a fiction of an archaic race unity and purity – formal universality was forcibly reconverted into the universality of blood – not of a clan or a dynasty but of a race-state, a super-clan – in which every race-man is a formally equal race-atom.  In the inverted logic of the terra incognita of Nazi ‘legality’ - what appears historically as a regression was conceived at the time as a forward movement in a “shoreless sea”.  Even if the ‘new’ “juridical concepts” were “indeterminate” – the former jurisprudence based on an abstract formal universality (according to Hegel the higher stage of spirit) was seen as “the way backward”:
“The entire application of law thus lies between Scylla and Charybdis.  The way forward seems to condemn us to a shoreless sea and to move us ever farther from the firm ground of juridical certainty and adherence to the law, which at the same time is still the ground of the judges’ independence.  Yet the way backward, which leads toward the formalistic superstition of law which was recognized as senseless and superseded long ago, is not worthy of consideration.”
(Carl Schmitt, State, Movement, People, Hamburg, 1933, cited in Giorgio Agamben, Homo Sacer, ibid., p. 172).

The Nazi race-state was a non-universal universality – an ‘inoperative’ hybrid of community, formal determinations of race (as opposed to familial blood ties) and state police power.  Thus the legal form of the person derived from Roman civil law was no longer valid in Nazi jurisprudence – a biological race person (the full mask - the ‘biopolitical’ substitute for the legal person) was invented in its stead (Carl Schmitt’s “equality of stock”).  

State of exception means the exceptional state of the ordinary – the exceptional form of the law –, which is the same as the exceptional form of the rule. The exception is not simply enacted in the present by a singular contingent ruler – it is inscribed in the dead yet undying spirit of ancestral succession, its birth from the cadaver of the preceding form (vaguely similar to the way parasitic flies lay eggs in “zombie bees”, emerging as larvae from the entrails of the dead bee).  The law is not a consistent object utterly opposed to ‘the exception’ – the law is ‘indeterminate’ - fabricated from exceptions or precedence accruing over unaccountable (immeasurable) time to rules or so-called laws.  The universal fact that judges and other legal personnel must interpret laws based on always-incomplete data (evidence) shows that law is dependent on ‘mood’ and contingency – law is in itself a permanent state of exception.  There is nothing exact about the law, despite its underlying principle or myth of ‘equality’.  This state of inexactitude and unknowability is normal.
“Law is the Ur-phenomenon of irrational rationality.”, as Adorno writes in Negative Dialectic.  There is no external guarantee of the law.
Law is the model of any hermeneutics – in which “Truth is the proof of itself” (Badiou). 
If politics (the political) is in a certain sense what is ‘common’ in human society/intercourse (koinonia) – law intersects the common where it verges on the exceptional.    

The law though would be nothing without obedience.  What is the origin of obedience – it is hardly a naturally occurring phenomenon? Obedience is the epitome of “second nature” – of a process of domestication.  Obedience transcends the distinction between animal and human – Wittgenstein frequently refers to obedience in the context of “abrichten” (training of dogs).  The following of a rule is thus not specifically human. A dog or a horse (the main domesticated animals) obeys in the same way as a human obeys.  Although – domestication, the concept of rule and its application are human objectifications coeval with language. 

Obedience is the law of the oikos – the origin of despotism, inequality and the division of labour is the family, the household.  The names rex, pater, dominus, anax, basileus etc., honorifics that establish rank and servitude, originate in the family.  The Greek polis was the liberation from the oikos, the realm of necessity dictated by the needs of mere survival or self-preservation.  

The polis is the realm of freedom from such necessity and from the rule of others, hence a society of equals, Marx’s Reich der Freiheit (kingdom of freedom); the sheer prolongation of life was the purpose of the oikos –the oikos is the Reich der Notwendigkeit (kingdom of necessity), slavery.  Otanes, one of the seven Persian conspirators against the Magian usurper of the Persian throne in 6th century B.C.E. represented the Greek ideal of isonomia (equality) as the best form of government for Persia.  He is unable to convince his fellow conspirators, amongst them Darius, the future king, but wins the right “neither to rule nor be ruled”.  Herodotus who reports this story (The History, Book 3.80-83) is reflecting the Greek view that inequality was the absence of freedom.  (see H. Arendt, “The Polis and the Household” in The Human Condition, Chicago, 1998, pp. 28-38). 

Babeuf’s “Societé des Égaux”, besides rendering homage to Rousseau, imitated the idea of the society of equals in the polis.  In choosing this name they identify with a bios politikos beyond the necessity of labour – a realm of freedom not the mere reproduction of their lives as the working class.

Typical of Heidegger’s falsifying of Greek concepts (and his misappropriating of the Greek idea of what is public or political), his so-called Führer-polis is a contradiction in terms if not nonsensical. The Nazi polis envisioned by Heidegger was to have been founded on the strictest “Rang und Ordnung” (rank and order). Heidegger installs the structure of obedience and command – the rank – within Sein itself.  The national social form he envisions as most suitable to Being – is if anything a Führer-oikos, not a polis.

In the Greek polis or bios politikos – the second elevated life – equality is the sole order – but the oikos, its opposite “was the center of strictest inequality” (The Human Condition, ibid., p. 32).  The bourgeois concept of freedom (an Englishman’s home is his castle) – still reflects the Greek idion or private sphere where only the household master was free – the rest (including intruders) were subject to his supreme jurisdiction and all to the necessities of life.  Unlike bourgeois society though where nothing exists beyond the oikos (society is merely the greater oikia), above the Greek oikos was the koinon or collective, – the site of bios politikos – the society of free equals. (Beyond that still was the life of contemplation.)  Greek political life or bios politikos was the reverse of the double servitude to the contingencies of survival and to an absolute household ruler – but naturally presupposed their existence. 

Paradoxically - as opposed to Greek antiquity when the oikos was a law unto itself – so that children could be sold into slavery etc – in the age of the private, the universal oikos of bourgeois civil society and government, this dungeon of privacy is opened to public scrutiny of law and social agencies.
  
The modality of being of Heidegger’s community or collective hierarchical Dasein called Mitsein (Being-with), supplanting Care (Sorge) in the order of importance, is Work of the “Worker” in the Ernst Jünger sense of the figure (Gestalt) of ‘substantial’ hegemony, the militant of the command “Work-State”.  Although the prevalence of terms denoting ‘dwelling’ and ‘house’ and ‘inhabiting’ (habitation), ‘gathering’ show that Heidegger’s true reference is always the domestic setting – in other words again oikia.  “Dwelling” is the pivot of one of Heidegger’s favourite quotations from Hölderlin, cited in Letter on Humanism: “Full of merit, yet poetically, man/ Dwells on this earth.”

Another mystery of the reception of Heidegger’s thought – is that he is seen as the philosopher of the ‘nothing’ and of its correlate time – of the subject as the ‘thrown’ nothingness of time (a thought much more proper to Hegel); Being in Heidegger absolutely swallows the dynamic self-positing, self-negating movement of Hegel’s “Spirit” or “Self-Consciousness”.  Even “nihilating” (das Nichtende) is only in Being – and only because thinking thinks Being, does it think the nothing. He anticipates this critique – striking out pre-emptively at the “absolute idealism of Hegel and Schelling” – whose absolute subject is “unconditioned will that wills itself and does so as the will of knowledge and of love” – a willing in which Being as “will to power is still concealed”. (Martin Heidegger, Letter on Humanism, translated by Frank A. Capuzzi, in Pathmarks, 1949, PDF online, p. 273)

Obviously here Heidegger has abandoned his own discourse of power and will, which still thrilled him in “Nietzsches Wort “Gott ist tot”” (“Nietzsche’s Word “God is Dead”, 1943) and in the Rektoratsrede (1934).  The passing reference to Hegel’s and Schelling’s ‘disrespect’ for Being seems almost a bitter self-quotation. Absolute subjectivity’s unconditioned willing still hides Being captured by the siren “will to power”.  But why ‘still’?  Is Heidegger identifying with Hegel and Schelling as if with his other earlier self – and saying here I am still enthralled by “will to power” and not yet in thrall directly to “Being”?  Is this passage an ‘esoteric writing’ concealing within his ‘critique’ of “will to power” a veiled reprise, a nostalgic adieu to the euphoria of that “great beginning”?  Then he was moved to declare in the name of the German Nazi University and its ‘militant body of teachers and pupils’ (“the will of knowledge and love”) - that they were the will that willed themselves:
“We do will ourselves.  For the young strength of the people, which already reaches beyond us, has by now decided the matter.” (Martin Heidegger, The Self-Assertion of the German University and The Rectorate 1933/1934: Facts and Thoughts, Review of Metaphysics, 38:3 (1985:Mar.) p. 480)

Now (1947) in the sober present of the Letter on Humanism– any act whether of affirmation or negation (the ‘yes’ or the ‘no’) belongs apriori to Being.  Dasein is properly will-less – dependent and obedient (hörig), in thrall to Sein (Being). 
As compensation for this surrender of all power to Being – Dasein like any minion of a feudal order – receives ‘protection’ or Hut against the vicissitudes of fate from its feudal lord Being.
Heidegger’s prose is littered with images of “hold” (Halt) and residing – nowhere more than in connection with Being.  Being and “humankinds” (Menschentümer) literally share the same house – it is language. So that in Letter on Humanism in which Heidegger indulges in an obsessive density of such ‘homey’ metaphors, one finds:
Wesentlicher als alle Aufstellung von Regeln ist, daß der Mensch zum Aufenthalt in die Wahrheit des Seins findet.  Erst dieser Aufenthalt gewährt die Erfahrung des Haltbaren.  Den Halt für alles Verhalten verschenkt die Wahrheit des Seins.  “Halt” bedeutet in unserer Sprache die “Hut”.  Das Sein ist die Hut, die den Menschen in seinem ek-sistenten Wesen dergestalt zu ihrer Wahrheit behütet, daß sie die Eksistenz in der Sprache behaust.  Darum ist die Sprache zumal das Haus des Seins und die Behausung des Menschenwesens.  Nur weil die Sprache die Behausung des Wesens des Menschen ist, können die geschichtlichen Menschentümer und Menschen in ihrer Sprache nicht zuhause sein, (...).” (“More essential than instituting rules is that human beings find the way to their abode in the truth of being.  This abode first yields the experience of something we can hold on to.  The truth of being offers a hold for all conduct.  “Hold” in our language means protective “heed”.  Being is the protective heed that holds the human being in his ek-sistent essence to the truth of such protective heed – in such a way that it houses ek-sistence in language.  Especially since language is the house of being, it is the dwelling of human essence.  Only because language is the dwelling of the essence of the human being can historical humankinds and human beings not be at home in their language, (…).”
Martin Heidegger, Brief über den Humanismus, Frankfurt 1947, p. 45; Letter on Humanism, ibid., p.274 ) 
As if Being were a quasi divine benevolent mater and ‘householder’ (Haushälterin – also means ‘housekeeper’ in German) – who looks after Dasein/Mitsein’s ‘dwelling’ while he/they/we are away, distracted by our human historical machinations (Machenschaften), estranged from our proper dwelling in the language of Being.
Far from being ‘thrown’ and abandoned in its finitude, Dasein is held under the forced protection (“Hut”) of Sein (Being) – Being will always usher Dasein back ‘home’ to its ‘abode in truth’ – like the pastoralist driving the herd back into their stalls.  

[Commentary: In Sein und Zeit the mode of “Un-zuhause” – the not-at-homeness of Dasein has almost the opposite valence.  Not-at-homeness was the proper mode of Dasein’s naked “thrownness” – whereas Being-in-the-world/Being-with in the They was “seductive, calming and alienated”.  These continual shifts in Heidegger’s termini, within one text and historically, make it difficult for his apologists to decide if he is the philosopher of the “cum”, the being-with, community, the interworld or of the “nothingness” and nowhere-ness of singular Dasein’s foundation.]

For Heidegger – in the wake of Ernst Jünger’s Der Arbeiter – technology becomes another such protected dwelling - a habitation of Being.  It is no longer a separate technique (techne) or a specific kind of thinking one might call instrumental – for Heidegger/Jünger technology is the re-forming or re-shaping of Being through the type/figure of the Worker.  That is why Heidegger says – the essence of technology is not technological.  Technology is the totum – not just a part in which quantification and calculable processes dominate.  The chapter title in Ernst Jünger’s Der Arbeiter - “Technik als Mobilisierung der Welt durch die Gestalt des Arbeiters” (“Technology as the Mobilisation of the World through the Figure of the Worker”), reveals this fusion or union of the type of the worker, technology as a synonym for Being and the movement called ‘mobilisation of the world’.  Language then is also Technology – presaging Heidegger’s language as the ‘house of being”, Ernst Jünger specifies: “Technik in diesem Sinne ist die Beherrschung der Sprache, die im Arbeitsraume gültig ist.  Diese Sprache ist nicht weniger bedeutend, nicht weniger tief als jede andere, da sie nicht nur Grammatik, sondern auch Metaphysik besitzt.  In diesem Zusammenhang spielt die Maschine eine ebenso sekundäre Rolle wie der Mensch, sie ist nur eines der Organe, durch die diese Sprache gesprochen wird.” [“Technology in this sense is the mastering of the language, which is valid in the work space.  This language is not less significant, not less deep, than any other, because it possesses not only grammar but also metaphysics.  In this context the machine plays as much a secondary role as the human, it (the machine) is only one of the organs through which this language is spoken.”, Ernst Jünger, Der Arbeiter Herrschaft und Gestalt, (first published in 1932), Stuttgart, 1982 pp. 155-156] 

Jean Luc Nancy continues in this Jünger vein, when he praises Heidegger’s utterances on technology, which echo its elevation to the rank of a ‘dwelling’ and a “sending of being”. “(…) To “inhabit” technology, or to “welcome” it, would be nothing other than inhabiting and welcoming the finitude of sense.” (Jean-Luc Nancy, “A Finite Thinking” in A Finite Thinking, Stanford, 2003, p. 25) 

Technology has become for this Heideggerian strain – the oikos of being.






A Type of Nazi Desire

In the promiscuous commingling of Oedipus and the Worker, juxtaposed in the briefest of texts by Lacoue-Labarthe entitled “Oedipus as Figure” – one senses something of the potency of the afterlife of ‘Nazi desire’.  There are two main figures of humanity – says Lacoue-Labarthe – Oedipus of course – this is desire or the unconscious - and The Worker – a nameless figure – but its name manqué is that of its ‘author’ named as Ernst Jünger.  The Worker is actually also a name for desire in its impersonal form of pure energy – figured or figural energy, the Nazi atom – to be expended in the construction of the total state and its new form of ‘subjected’ power.  If Oedipus is energy as unconscious desire – the Worker is energy as conscious obedience.  Obedience is nothing less than a certain receptivity to the new language of command adequate to the worker and the new form of domination.  The secret of the language of command is that it never promises, it only demands – that the worker recognize his ‘deepest happiness’ in being sacrificed (Jünger, ibid. p. 74).  The command has the form of pointing the worker towards the desired and desirable sacrifice.
The Fascist/Nazi golem particle of Worker-Energy and libidinal Desire is spawned prismatically in Lacoue-Labarthe’s sketch – their juxtaposition, forced “kinship”, acts almost like a rebus, disclosing the ‘Nazi desire’ of the text itself.  The text becomes the ground of the incestuous cross-sexualizing of the figure of The Worker and the figure of Oedipus.
The worker is sheer embodied energy for the Work-State – but without ‘desiring man’ (Oedipus) such energy of ‘working man’ would self-abort.  Towering above both is “Ge-stell” – the being or essence of technology.  Work and the Worker is the seam (mediation) between Being and the Nazi State – “energy that is applied and put to work.” (“Oedipus as Figure”, Lecture at Brown University, 1983, PDF, online, p. 1)  Finally the Worker is tantalized with the subjectivity of poiesis then deprived of any – the worker is the inhuman in human form – a “mode of Ge-stell.” (frame) (ibid.).  “The figure or Gestalt of the Worker is understood by Heidegger as being one of the modes in which the essence of technology is deployed, or in other words one of the modes of Ge-stell.  The word designates the unity of coming together of all modes of Stellen, ‘formulating’ or ‘(re)presenting’ in general, from Vorstellung to Gestalt.  It therefore designates being in its last envoi.” (ibid., p. 2)   
In this pithy form one sees how Lacoue-Labarthe moves smoothly from Jünger’s The Worker to Heidegger’s “Ge-stell” – whereby Ge-stell is another term for the “essence of technology” or sometimes just “danger”; the ouroboros who masterfully swallows all with the final jaws of Being (“in its last envoi”).


Worship of Fields

Ancient Roman religion began as worship of fields and hearths and progressed to the worship of the State, the immaterial field.  The worship of the State, from an evolutionary point of view (elemental forms of religion), is an agricultural cult of the fallow heart. 

Dressed as a crow I went out to the flat fields.  The ones with the open view and the naked masts.  Where the train crosses in the emptiness and one can see beyond the vineyards on the other side of the river.  Under the train tracks.  The curved passageway (like the entrance to a caravanserai) under the red brick arch of the railroad bridge echoes my footsteps.  A flat dry echo.  The bridge is on the edge of the hut-like dwellings forming the last row of ‘Fortress Longbourne’ on either side of which are some pump and power stations made of clusters of similar brick one story structures surrounded by a series of high prickly fences.  Those living next to them can also claim in potential real estate agency advertisements that they are ‘surrounded by fields’.  The dirt road beyond the railroad bridge passageway has so many tracks in it one doesn’t know which of them is really the footpath.  I lose my bearings.  There are no landmarks or rather there are only landmarks.  The field is one great landmark.  I guess vaguely where the river is – white in colour at this time of year and in the late afternoon.  But I think I’m closer to the Longbourne Meadows than I really am.  They are inestimably sadder than the cow fields on the other side.  Longbourne is as addicted to sadness as anywhere in Africa especially during flood time.  A metal bar gate is lying on its side where I decide to cross the black waterway almost hidden from view.  A field can be very lugubrious, like a desert, no perceptible changes, a so-called wasteland even though the river is still associated with pleasure boats and summer promenades – what the locals call ‘messing around in boats’.  I knew the fields would affect me in this way and they did.  The houses on stilts on the other side of the river with their mirrored impervious doors and sides – one should expect no quarter.  Further back on the other side are truncated views of houses, no lights, no movement.  So close to the Longbourne hurly-burly.  One could imagine guests and relatives behind those walls consigned to cots, set up in ramshackle stalls, awaiting their conversion for the last fifty years.  A field can be as much an oubliette as a hole deep in the ground.  All the more a house surrounded by fields on all sides.  On the other hand the wrong eyes can easily discover it.  If it has a clock tower that’s for the lookout, besides that it needs a palisade.  I told my acquaintance who lives amidst fields and is looking for a new house amidst other fields, that I am more inspired by people and passing (moving) things especially in the dark than fields.  This is the proof.  Sometimes it is too late to part.  That’s much worse.  Besides I’m not a horse.  The picture of their barn gave me the feeling the field grew right up to the eaves both inside and outside.  The house stood in a cold shadow, possibly facing the north winds – but then the winds come in at 360°.  The luminous parts were the unconverted stalls.  They planned to turn them into a concert venue.  The grass grew crooked like dense rows of green rickety picket fences.  The house was set in the fields as in green aspic.  (The word aspic comes from asp – comparing the colour of the jelly to the colour of the snake on Cleopatra’s bosom) – the quivering snaky grass of the field besets the house from all angles.  Living in a field one can learn to loathe the colour green.  The mud clutches each foot as you set it down and holds it in its mouth each time you pull it out again, kicking the earth away as if it were some animal tugging you in the wrong direction.  If hermits had been really penitent, they would have lived in fields and not in caves like St Benedict. Is there a ‘natural redemption’ to correspond with ‘natural evil’?

One familiar sight, the white iron latticework bridge is enough to calm me down, although still far from it, close to it in the line of vision.  The swans are a rectangular solid group looking like a low plaster mantelpiece and as such suggesting a beckoning hearth.  Even if no fire was burning.  Such mirages of domesticity are dangerous when in fields.  The vague islands in the middle of the river – more like stumps of riverbank strayed out or away from the side – interrupt the stippled solid looking river.  For some not yet identified reason, the white square mansion and its weeping willows on the opposite side of the river near the bridge do not arouse in me feelings of desolation although equally dark, lifeless and ponderous.  I even sit on a bench for a while regarding the big white house and its trees and black windows as one would a painting in the National Gallery.


Racial Impurity

How hard to remember from one planting season to the next.  We transplanted the big semi-double-blossomed rugosa rose (Rosa ‘Blanche Double de Coubert’) from the Gallica rose bed to the ‘meadow’ on the wattle hurdle last autumn.  Now I can’t remember where it is exactly.  A big rugosa is standing in front of the wattle hurdle – but looking like a hybrid of two plants.  The pale hairy stems of the rugosa have smooth thinner branches of a red brown colour – as if from a Rosa canina (dog rose) with numerous dried out hips – just like a dog rose would have.  Next to this double plant is a straight up-and-down rugosa with some buds and foliage spouting at the very bottom, from the base.  It stands closer to the boundary of the former or so-called sucker field – almost within it.  So most likely it is one of those many wildly growing suckers of the long vanished rugosa – a relic of the much-noted presence of the erstwhile owner of this house and garden, Godwin Baynes, the Jungian psychoanalyst with his distinctly horticultural theories of schizophrenia. For Baynes ‘grafting’ or the nursery method of mounting a desired rose on top of a vigorous crude fast growing stock was the model of the psychotic will energizing the civilized persona.  The new hybridic creature next to the ordinary sucker is much more ‘Baynesianesque’ alias ‘psychotic’ – it appears to have been created by a subterranean takeover of the newly transplanted Rosa ‘Blanche Double de Coubert’ by the wild dog roses that have always been in the earth around that spot.  The dog rose grafted itself onto the white rugosa – de-purifying the stock.  It saw the new rose merely as an opportune pedestal for its own wild growth. The ‘moment’ on the rose shoot where the hairy stem of the exquisite cultivated Rosa ‘Blanche Double de Coubert’ smoothes upward into the thin tawny coloured stem of the ordinary Rosa canina already sprouting its ordinary leaves, but still showing some of the original bristles of the higher rose cultivar below poignantly seems to demonstrate – given the chance, nature and “second nature” will always undo civilisation and revert to some kind of lower form of Ur-species. This is what happens (more or less) in Baynes’ theory of psychosis.

The presence of Baynes and the other man who was briefly the Baynes’ house guest, D H Lawrence is most strong in the garden. I don’t really think they are in the house at all. They stick to the land. The garden on its western boundary is overrun by a rugosa alba rose which is only a field of suckers. The original rose, if there ever was one, has disappeared. I don’t remember the suckers being there in the beginning of our time - but they have gradually taken over the most fertile sunny spot although quite marshy. We have just started planting the sucker meadow with other equally strong growers. The rose isn’t ugly - it blossoms one single rose at a time throughout the summer. The rose smells very sweet. But it isn’t one of Shelley’s ‘sensitive plants’. Unfortunately it has succeeded in killing off most of the beautiful Spanish lavender planted amongst it. Along the same side as the sucker field under the old privet hedge we discovered a bottomless narrow opening (too small for a human and too big for an animal). Beneath the best and largest apple tree on the other side is a square of grass distinctly marked by 4 long mossy stones sunk into the earth. When one steps into the square the earth inside sags like an old roof and is much spongier and weaker than anywhere else around it. What unknown caryatids stand in this upright grave? Too tired to carry the load anymore.

Baynes liked to think of himself as a ‘nursery man’. His father Helton Baynes had been a timber merchant and a devout Puritan in the “Home Counties”. He suffered from agoraphobia. Actually Baynes Senior chose the house we are living in, a good solid house until this day. The garden is an old orchard. We still have plums and apples from it as they did when Baynes and family lived here. Baynes wasn’t really a naturalist, although his whole theory of the schizophrenic personality relies on a wrong analogy of grafting. Grafts are the artificial means of propagating plant merchandise - by attaching the desired plant (scion) to a crude but vigorous root stock. This is the common old procedure especially for roses and ornamental trees such as the contorted hazel and for fruit trees. The enemy of the nursery man says Baynes is the ‘sucker’. A wild growth coming up out of the old root stock. One has to be brutal as a plant businessman and rip it out at the source. Baynes mixes up these suckers and other naturally occurring suckers of certain types of shrubs and trees. “The all too familiar suckers in the rose-garden are the attempt of nature to counteract too much culture by a reversion to type.” (H. G. Baynes, Mythology of the Soul A Research into the Unconscious from Schizophrenic Dreams and Drawings, London, 1940, p. 400) Our orchard is full of plum and rose suckers - merely identical seedlings of the original. Baynes describes that archaic ‘shadow’ underneath the civilized personality as the ‘sucker’, sapping the strength of the persona or ‘mask’.
The sucker is the ‘reversion to type’, essentially different or even ‘horrific’.
“The sucker is the ‘shadow’ of the rose” writes Baynes on page 400. Maybe the memory of the Nijinsky ballet Le Spectre de la Rose winged through his mind as he wrote this one and only axiom of his homegrown vampire botany. In Baynes-Jungian terms the ‘shadow’ is the archaic or psychotic will feeding on and eventually devouring the civilized persona.

Baynes’ thinking is based on simple muscular reflexes. He cannot think genetically of unforeseeable morphologies. He thinks instinct is always to be trusted. His vampire science does not apply when the ‘graft hybrids’ of two genetically dissimilar tissues occur in the cells genetically and spontaneously as in the case of plant ‘chimera’ or animal ‘mosaics’ (also called mutations).
There is no type to which such a mutation can revert.
Nature doesn’t look back. The unnatural doesn’t either. Mutations are the only hope against deadlocks in the natural or unnatural world. A vampire is never so instinctually hermetic that it won’t eventually generate its own genetically superior vampire-chimera with new undying instincts.

Of course, I often fall asleep at my table during the day and when one is asleep is when the vampires come and suck on you but only at night.
I prefer to think we are our own vampire like Baudelaire’s “Le Vampire” - even if delivered of the curse we would go on resuscitating the cadaver of our own chimera with our own ‘kiss of life’.

The orchard is a green vampire.
The oldest apple tree in the orchard seems to have gone to sleep for good. The dynasty withers tree by tree. The old apple tree is a mysterious skeleton covered by phosphorescent scale - still beguiling maybe more. The dark carcass sparkles indefinitely. The mood is insatiable. We have had to plant many other plants since coming to this orchard, the more plants we put in this earth the less rooted we become.





Unscientific Postscript

Baynes made his pilgrimage to Berchtesgaden some time in the thirties – viewing the endlessly frenzied building site of Obersalzberg at firsthand, Hitler’s personal mountain kingdom.  He may have even been privileged to have had a personal tour of Hitler’s teahouse “Adlerhorst” in the mountains – Baynes refers to the “Eagle’s Eyrie on the summit of the Obersalzberg” in his book entitled Germany Possessed.  “He is proud to show this place and to receive his distinguished diplomatic visitors there.” (H.G. Baynes, Germany Possessed, London, 1941, p. 61)  (Baynes died in 1943.)  Hermann Rauschning, the Nazi defector, favoured his book with an introduction.  Baynes assimilates English Jungian folklore to the figure of the ‘possessed shamanistic mad Hitler’ who is said by Rauschning to regularly foam at the mouth, quake from terrifying visions, and turn purple during his fits of rage.  How could Baynes the curious Englishman resist that temptation?  I avoid reading that book as best I can – something moved me to break my own rules.  I immediately felt that it had been exerting its influence on me – even unread.  Why else would I have mentioned the teahouse in the mountains or Hitler’s excessive love of Mehlspeisen – considered an effeminate trait by Baynes?  Or Wu Wei?  Baynes in his final chapter “Factors Governing Morale” compares the British “instinctual way” with the inscrutably reserved “acting—non-acting” practised by the Chinese sages.  This he contrasts with the Jungian type ‘Wotan possession’ he predictably discovers in the German.  Legends of sleeping emperors in their lairs with their beards wrapped around the table legs  abound.       


Les Natchez

The difference between the palace and the hut is sometimes very small – the distance quite close.  The directors in Kafka’s The Castle are possessed by nostalgia for the lowliness of the villagers.  Does sovereignty have nostalgia for community?  Although Derrida considers sovereignty able to play in all keys and registers – the very high and the very low, great and small – always potent, whatever the scale – “What counts is the more, the economy of the more, (…) the smaller able to be more powerful or even larger than the largest: another logical effect of the law according to which, remember what Nietzsche says about it, the weaker can be stronger than the stronger ⎯ and that’s the whole of history.” (Jacques Derrida, The Beast and the Sovereign Volume I, (Chicago, 2009), PDF, online p. 259)

Is impotency greater than potency under certain circumstances?

Ludwig II of Bavaria often preferred the company of his servants, grooms and peasants to that of courtiers.  Perhaps he liked their company too well – as their gossip formed the damning evidence in the case for declaring him mad and deposing him.  Proust’s Monsieur de Charlus surrounded himself later on in life with apprentices, delivery boys and shop assistants who had to pretend to be vicious dissolute criminals while performing their paid acts of cruelty upon him.  They were never vicious enough for his taste. But then again, they weren’t really apaches – they were just bad actors.  Or perhaps Charlus was a bad audience of his own supplices. This nostalgia of the high for the low and abject is even visible in monumental and grandiose architecture.  The pyramid temples of the Aztecs are merely huts elevated to an enormous height on top of inordinately large step pyramids.

Two photographs are on two facing pages of a travel essay on the Mississippi which I opened at random possessed of vague thought – just glancing from one to the other, the slender columns of the portico along the front of a plantation mansion, appear to be an imitation of the white narrow trunks of a row of eucalyptus trees in front of the hut on stilts of a Bayou swamp inhabitant.  The swamp dwelling and the late 18th century plantation house are in Natchez and its surroundings.  In the 18th century Natchez was still known as the name of the Indian tribe living in that part of the Mississippi Valley.  The old Chateaubriand corrected the manuscript of his youth entitled Les Natchez – miraculously restored to him after being lost for thirty years. René, the disillusioned exiled hero, philosophizes in Rousseauist style with very wise Indians from the tribe of Natchez.     


The Thirty Tyrants

The thirty tyrants are the ones who come before the “Schluß-Tyrann” (“End-Tyrant”, Nietzsche).  The “Last Man” is a tyrant.  Call him a ‘Katechon’.  Tyrannosaurus rex.





Obedience

Blumenberg in Derridaesque fashion examines the contract of substitution between humans and the divine legislator.  Human sacrifice is transformed in the cult or religion into the offering up in its stead of absolute obedience – obedience being itself a sacrifice of one’s freedom – at least in part.  Not the rule implies or dictates obedience, but the exception, which does not take place – the absent human sacrifice.  Obedience and not the rule is at the origin of law.  The waiving of the demand for human sacrifice is paid for with absolute obedience – or humans ‘reward’ the deity for desisting from this demand.  In the commandment the suspended law of human sacrifice is ever present – as the Ur-form of all law or commandments.  The Decalogue (ten commandments) is a reflexive covenant – “thou shalt not kill” – is God speaking to himself and to his creatures.  The Ten Commandments enshrine this substitution of absolute obedience for human sacrifice – for they represent the pact of absolute obedience – they must be obeyed – not for themselves but in fulfilment of the divine contract.
“The place of the offering up of human life is taken by the offering up of absolute obedience, both in the history of the patriarchs, as a prelude to the giving of the Law in the Sinai and to Paul’s concept of faith, and of the Spartan state myth.” (Hans Blumenberg, “After the Absolutism of Reality” Work on Myth, Cambridge, 1985, p. 20)

The clerico-legal exchange of sacrifice for obedience though seems to undo a view of ‘the human condition’ as work, labour or action (Arendt).  It also undermines the idealist-materialist concept of subjective sensual activity, the fabrication of self and the world in its ‘objecthood’.
The absolutely obedient subject aspires itself to ‘objecthood’ - the perfect submission of inert matter.  So is Simone Weil’s interpretation of Paul’s Christological doctrine of obedience – the imitation of Christ is at the same time the attaining of passivity resembling that of inert matter for which Christ on the cross is the model.

Obedience is a form of inaction or action with suspended will. 
Arendt ranks action, as the political sphere of human activity, higher than work.  Action differs from work in at least one sense – it is impossible to both abstain from work and work – but possible to abstain from action and act.  Seen in this light – is abstract labour – action or even labour (considered as the quintessential human praxis)?  Abstract labour is not a category of philosophical anthropology – based on ‘homo faber’.  Abstract labour is a mere derivative of the law of value – no human qualities are manifested in abstract labour.  The praxis Marx refers to in the Feuerbach Theses – the sensual activity proper to the human species – has nothing to do with abstract labour.  Nor is it a process – it is only a quantitative result, the source of value in the capitalist production process – calculable only a posteriori.  Abstract labour is a component or attribute of capital – not of the human species or species-being.  One could equally say that humans have an organ for breeding money biologically.  Or that money is one of the senses – sensible and intelligible. 
         
But what about the ‘defeatist object’ – the one that falls apart – is that also obedience?  In essence there is no such thing as an inert mass.
But besides that, Weil’s claim that inert matter is a model of obedience is false – obedience cannot originate in inert matter – without resisting, it obeys nothing - resists any use.  If used, then without its own obedience.  Obedience can only be of a willed individual or body whose will has been subjugated, formed, harnessed to the desires of another, ‘broken’ – as in the relation between “Führung und Gefolgschaft” (leaders and followers) envisioned by Heidegger in the “Self-Assertion of the German University”. The newly inaugurated rector Heidegger is the “geistige Führung” (spiritual leader), student and teacher bodies are the followers (Gefolgschaft).  Together they form what in Heidegger’s formula of Sein und Zeit he calls the “kämpfende Nachfolge” (militant discipleship).  No rupture occurs between Dasein’s militancy/politics in the world as such – the foundation of militancy/politics itself – and Dasein’s militancy as ‘scientific Da-sein’ in the German university of 1933.

Although this relation of obedience of “Führung und Gefolgschaft” is reflexive and conditioned in a manifold sense – it is in particular ‘grounded’ in the essence of the German university.  But beyond that and immanent thereto – this essence can not achieve clarity, rank and power if the leader is also not himself led by the unrelenting spiritual “Auftrag” (task, mission, order) forced by the fate of the German people in the stamp (Gepräge) of its history.  The energy, which this body would have expended (wasted) for its own desires, must be redirected or transformed into the obedience/will for another who could also be the self.
Obedience then is a kind of ‘decision’ not to ‘decide’ for ‘oneself’ but for the other to whom one has leased one’s will.  In Derrida’s complicated world/matrix of substitution of self and absolute other – such heteronomy underlies the structure of any decision.  There is in essence no ‘free’ decision – just as there is no autonomous subject.  Hence obedience constitutes the structure of the decision – or the decision is the suspended norm of obedience.  As he writes in The Politics of Friendship – in spirit and tone not far from Blumenberg’s idea of absolute obedience: 
“But should one imagine, for all that, a ‘passive’ decision, as it were, without freedom (...) it signifies in me the other who decides and rends.  The passive decision, condition of the event, is always in me, structurally, another event, a rending decision as the decision of the other.  Of the absolute other in me, the other as the absolute that decides on me in me.” (Jacques Derrida, The Politics of Friendship, London/New York, 2005, p. 68)
Using friendship or even love as a model, Derrida smuggles in a radical form of ‘voluntary servitude’ or unrelenting obedience to the ‘other in me’ under the guise/cloak of the ‘decision’.  The ‘warmth’ of love (though not sex) – its ancient reputation of having the nature of turning the lover into what he loves – softens Derrida’s defence of absolute obedience to the norm i.e. law.  ‘I’ do not obey the law; ‘I’ become the law, which obeys itself in me.  Oddly, this is also a model of absolute thus solipsistic dictatorship.
Although he is reflecting Schmitt’s friend/enemy distinction as the origin of ‘the political’ and ‘sovereignty’ – the ‘self-asserted’ obedience at work in the ‘passive decision’ is closest to Heidegger’s Auftrag (mission) of the “Rektoratsrede” – the ‘passive decision’ of the other in me is comparable to Being (equals History/Fate) giving of itself in me to itself as the ubiquitous or absolute other in me.  Such a non-decision undermines Schmitt’s more ‘classic’ (juridical) notion of sovereignty. 
(Although how exactly Derrida’s theories of radical and absolute alterity sit inside Heidegger’s “Being-With” (Mitsein) which allows for no kind of alterity – is still something of a trade secret.)

The subject is only the passive (inert) terrain where these ‘gift’ transactions or transfusions of Being with itself take place.

Like Heidegger, Derrida attempts to present absolute submissiveness (to the norm) or loss of self as some sort of higher form of rebellion:  “Absolutely singular in principle, according to its most traditional concept, the decision is not only always exceptional, it makes an exception for/of me.  In me.  I decide, I make up my mind in all sovereignty – this would mean: the other than myself, the me as other and other than myself, he makes or I make an exception of the same.  This normal exception, the supposed norm of all decision, exonerates from no responsibility.  Responsible for myself before the other, I am first of all and also responsible for the other before the other.  This heteronomy, which is undoubtedly rebellious against the decisionist conception of sovereignty or of the exception (Schmitt), does not contradict it; it opens autonomy on to itself, (…).  It matches the decision to the gift, if there is one, as the other’s gift.” (The Politics of Friendship, ibid., pp. 68-69)  The ‘gift’ in any case is only Being’s gift to itself in me qua other.   

Obedience is a form of hypnosis.  The university gathers this transcendent forcing (forcage) in itself as its self-asserted dwelling.  

At this very moment of the public ‘suturing’ of Heidegger’s “fundamental ontology” to Nazism in the “Rektoratsrede” – Heidegger asks at the beginning of his speech if Dasein is ready to bear the stamp of the German fate?  Or even more tenuous – does the essence of the German university have the “strength to stamp our being (Dasein)”?  He is not in doubt – but only if the “body of student and teachers” truly will this essence.  Dasein requires a supplement of sorts – the true willing of an essence outside of Dasein – in the German university.  But why does he pose such a question?  And then presume to answer it?  Is it because Dasein is actually not an entity infused ‘naturally’ with the impulses of ‘struggle’, will or power? Is Heidegger summoning Dasein in his words, magically calling it to be prepared for its ‘spiritual mission’?

But Dasein is mutating in keeping with the greatness of the beginning or “Aufbruch” Heidegger seeks to manifest, expose (enact) and create in his Rektoratsrede.  Significantly Lacoue-Labarthe sees this ‘beginning’ also as the moment in which the fundamental ontology ‘collapses’ and fails. (“Transcendence Ends in Politics”, ibid., p. 297)  But this inaugural speech taking place in the first year of the Nazi reign is especially precious for Heidegger – because it is a ‘beginning’.  The beginnings are always with us he says in Beiträge zur Philosophie (Vom Ereignis).  More than endings?  In the Rektoratsrede Heidegger asserts a most vehement beginning not just for the university and its bodies – but for Dasein überhaupt.  “Only if we again place ourselves under the power of the beginning of our spiritual-historical being (Dasein).” (“The Self-Assertion of the German University”, ibid. p.  471)  In keeping with Heidegger’s idiosyncratic and absurd identification of the German people with the ancient Greeks – this beginning (Aufbruch) is not the Nazi Machtergreifung – but the bursting forth (Aufbruch) of Greek philosophy.  Emmanuel Faye speaks thus of the absolute identity in Heidegger’s ‘world’ of metaphysics (Greek philosophy) and the calendar of Nazism. 

The state, for Heidegger although ‘total’ and ‘essential’ recedes behind what really counts for him – self-assertion of Dasein.  “Das Wesentliche des Daseins ist Selbstbehauptung.” (“The essential of Dasein is self-assertion.”, Heidegger, “Hegel, On the State”, winter 1934-1935, cited in  Faye, ibid., p. 392)
Self-assertion is the mode in which the ‘polis’, the body of self-assertion protects itself – meaning the historical existence of a people, a clan, a stock.  This act of self-assertion is one of survival, self-preservation of the enclosure – “enclosing wall, house, earth, gods.”  Starting from the polis Heidegger ends irresistibly in the pre-state reproductive oikos – the greater womblike hearth of the clan.  “It is from this starting point”, he says, “that the essence of the political is to be grasped.” (Faye, ibid., p. 237)  
Metaphysics is ‘overcome’ and made real (realised) in the historical moment of the German people – in its spiritual-historical mission; though – only when it places itself under the auspices of its ‘Greek’ beginning.  The beginning is – and all there isis the beginning.  For Heidegger in effect there is never anything but a beginning – the beginning (of Greek philosophy) and of the other uncertain beginning of the German struggle, its “danger”, its spiritual-historical essence in its State – the inauguration of the Nazi period.  As he will also say in Introduction to Metaphysics – the beginning is what is greatest.  It is also a beginning, which is waiting in the future – it has ‘invaded’ the future, ‘we’ (the German university and people) have to catch up with it – live up to its greatness.  In a backwards-looking prophetic rhetoric – Heidegger predicts a return to a beginning of the Third Reich – to a beginning, which had only just begun. And yet he compares the situation of the German university to a preparation for battle – as if the outcome were not yet known – but whatever it will be, it cannot be left to chance:  “We choose the knowing battle of those who question and profess with Carl von Clausewitz: “I take leave of the frivolous hope of salvation by the hand of accident.” (“The Self-Assertion of the German University”, ibid., p. 479)  Such calculating hubris to assume that any enterprise could succeed without the graces of Fortuna, Tyche or kairos is neither Greek nor Roman, but descends from Amalek.

In the concept of history Heidegger presents in his Rektoratsrede – the history of the historical-spiritual German Volk – the only future he envisions is the repetition of a beginning.  He can see neither a beyond nor an ‘exit strategy’ from this fateful beginning.
The beginning of Greek or western philosophy and the beginning of the Third Reich are one and the same, according to Heidegger – it is one beginning which prolongs itself incessantly.  In this extended indefinitely elastic beginning western man who is the same as German man – stands up to the “totality of what is”. 
At the very point in his speech when one would expect the eruption of vita activa – Heidegger seems to retreat adeptly not ‘under the shadow of his sword’ but into the shelter of Greek vita contemplativa qua activa.  Here as in the speech as a whole – a fungibility of philosophy and the still unnamed historical-spiritual mission is presupposed.  

Heidegger’s emphasis on the beginning in his inaugural speech – also a beginning – shows that his speech is not ‘political’ in a sense of being external to his philosophy – but that his concept of the political ‘bursting forth’ of the Nazi entity is in a strict sense determined/filtered by his philosophy.  Heidegger gives Nazism the best place in his philosophy – the place of the beginning.
Heidegger’s perspective is always the origin, the beginning – this is how he distinguished himself from Cassirer in Davos 1929 – Cassirer having the perspective of progressive liberation through symbolic forms (science, language, myth), lacked a clear ‘terminus a quo’ or starting point.  For Heidegger the starting point is the concern of his whole philosophy.
Herkunft ist Zukunft (the origin is the future).  Terminus a quo.  In the beginning is Being.
“My position is the reverse: The terminus a quo is my central problematic, the one I develop.  For me this occurs not in the whole of Philosophy of Culture, but in the question of τι το ον, or rather: what in general is called Being?” ( “Davos”, 202/GA 3, 288 cited in Vida Pavesich, “Hans Blumenberg’s Philosophical Anthropology After Heidegger and Cassirer”, Journal of the History of Philosophy, vol. 46, no. 3 (2008) 421-448), p. 423) 

Arendt rescued this idea of beginning for her general theory of action governed by her concept of ‘natality’ – every action is a birth, something begins – action gives birth to itself as action.  But a birth or beginning of what?  Only more action.  Certainly not inaction?  Such a beginning would only push itself up against a wall of itself.  What about the finish?  Jean-Luc Nancy commented in a seminar on “Sovereignty and Finitude” at Birkbeck in London in 2005, that Hitler was a ‘finish’.  Does he mean “finish” in the sense of model or type?  The model comes at the end – it is not originary.  It is not an ancestor/origin – an antediluvian beginning from which exemplars descend.  Hitler was the “finish” as a model, which in its completeness exhausts its own series of one.  The Führer-mule.  A finish in the form of an ‘un-birthing’.  For Nancy he was a ‘finish’, whereas for Heidegger he was a beginning.  Was Hitler the ‘finish’ of Heidegger’s philosophy?
Nancy is ever concerned with finitude – as opposed to beginnings …  If Hitler is a ‘finish’ – then without him something would have been missing? 
Although somewhat paradoxically - the urge or trajectory of such thought is from finitude to infinitude – the move from the economic to the ‘political’ mimics a progression or ‘opening’ of finitude to infinitude.  The political is prima philosophia in this kind of philosophy of finitude – in its being the finite vehicle of infinitude – in itself metaphysical or a ‘sensual-supernatural thing’ (sinnlich-übersinnlich), just as the commodity is for Marx.  Why does ‘the political’ enjoy such a privileged status for Nancy?  Is it not because that this is the rank Heidegger granted it in that era of ‘the beginning’? 

In his lecture course of the winter 1933-34 as the militant “Rektor-Führer” he presents “the urgent task of our era” as the restoring of politics to its proper rank in Being above all others; politics is Being, the highest – self-assertion is the mode of Dasein, but politics is the mode of Sein. “(…) teaching to see it (politics) once again as the fundamental character of the philosophizing man in history, and as that being (Sein) in which the state develops, so that it (politics) can truly be called the mode of being of a people.” (“On the Essence and Concepts of Nature, History, and State”, cited in Faye, ibid., p 117)  “Politics” (Politik) as Being (Sein) fuses, ‘gathers’ or reigns over the finitude of “philosophizing man” and the infinitude of Being qua state – but only in the becoming of the Nazi Führer-state as the mode of being (Seinsart) of the German Volk.
Hitler puts the finishing touches on Nancy’s concept of sovereignty.  To finish means to have an orgasm.  Does Nancy ‘finish’ with Hitler? “(On peut dire le sens fini, à la condition de penser que finir c’est jouir.)” [“(We can say the finite sense, on the condition of thinking that finishing is delighting.”) Jean-Luc Nancy, Corpus, New York, 2008, pp. 118-119].

But there also has to be a will to this finitude or finishing.  It is quite the opposite of deferring or deferment.  The finish is that which is contingent (free) and necessary at the same time.  Can one ‘decide’ to finish more or less than one can ‘decide’ to begin?
Without the will to finitude it would be impossible to complete any work.   The concept of finishing loses its meaning without the will to finitude.  A thing (object) cannot exist without finitude – or is there an infinite thing?  A situation which is infinite – every situation is according to Badiou – is far less than a situation which is finite.  If all possibilities are included, none are – because all possibilities include also the negation of all possibilities.  A finite number of possibilities is the precondition for any one possibility.  The artistic work is possessed by a will to finitude – to see itself completed – at the same time it is the will to deplete or defeat the artist.


Some Provisional Axioms of ‘The Political’

Axiom 1: Political Ontology since Heidegger is a Nazi science – because first in Heidegger’s Nazism being and the (thought of the) political have become one.
Axiom 1a: Political Ontology is the situation (site) of the fusion of Sein (Being) und Politik (politics); where Nazi Sein and the political are joined.
Axiom 1b: Political Ontology is not a teaching.  It is an action of Being.
Axiom 1c:  Since Heidegger Political Ontology is Nazism’s mask, surrogate (straw man) and discreet account for the forbidden (as in a Swiss bank) – because since Heidegger Politics and Being (Metaphysics) are One.
Axiom 1d: In Political Ontology Nazism hides in the open.
Axiom 1e: In Political Ontology Nazism is always ready-to-hand (even when it is broken).
Axiom 1f: Political Ontology is Nazism’s readiness-to-hand.
Axiom 1g:  In Political Ontology (the category of political being) Nazism is indifferent to itself, disinterested in itself.  Its relation to itself is adiaphoric.


Dasein of Mass

Axiom 2:  In Heidegger’s ontology the mass mistakes/misjudges (verkennt) itself as chosen originary Dasein – that asserts its value/validity prior to any thought.   
Axiom 2a: The mass engages in a self-deluding critique of ‘massification’ – each time it succumbs to the hollowness of “mine”.  It splits itself off from itself as mass to be ‘reborn’ as Dasein/Sein/Existenz – where it seeks refuge from itself.  Greater than the hollowness of “mine” is the hollowness of “ours”.
Axiom 2.a.1.  The massness of Heidegger is reflected in the semblance of indispensability crowning his philosophy as if with a halo – its popularity is the circumscribed mass itself, applauding itself within its limits.
Axiom 2.a.2  The secret (Heidegger) is to speak of the mass without ever naming it – Jemeinigkeit (“In Each Case Mine”). 
Axiom 2b:  Dasein is the annihilated/maimed subject metamorphosed into its generic deformation.  Thus for Badiou the generic and his theory of the subject are so tightly allied to his ontology.  Here he continues the Heidegger program.  Dasein or the generic is a particle bereft of force.  How should the congregation of these voided particles in the mass engender a new force (multitude)?  Homo sacer is the legalist-biologistic template of the same voided construct Dasein – so-called ‘nullity’.     
Axiom 2c:  Ontology is the return of idealism, of identity philosophy under the guise of a hypostatized generic existence, of the reified singular.
Axiom 3:  Any system based on an average or norm can hardly be said to be dynamic – it constantly aims to rest at a plateau – the average or norm.  Its irresistible striving is to move from unrest to rest – more a dialectic of stagnation than a dynamic tendency.
Axiom 4:  The essence of hope is not hopeful in the sense of Heidegger’s assertion about technology – its essence is not technological.  One could extend this formula indefinitely.  All it indicates is that a thing or its quiddity, its essence cannot be a linguistic property of itself.
Although a contrary view is that of Novalis, who says, the performance of mathematics must be mathematical.  If not – a dubious hiatus arises between form and content.