Thinking Antagonism - Political - Oliver Marchart
Thinking Antagonism - Political - Oliver Marchart
Thinking Antagonism - Political - Oliver Marchart
Oliver Marchart
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Notes 218
Bibliography 241
Index 255
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vii
This other critical tradition does not pose the question of the condi-
tions of possibility of a true knowledge; it asks the question: What
is present reality? What is the present field of our experiences? What
is the present field of possible experiences? Here it is not a question
of the analytic of truth but involves what could be called an ontol-
ogy of the present, of present reality, an ontology of modernity, an
ontology of ourselves. (Foucault 2011: 20–1)
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‘the political’ are silently modelled upon the later Heidegger’s notion
of an ontico-ontological difference: the difference between ontic
beings and ontological Being. Metaphysics has always been the quest
for an ontological instance that could serve as a ground for all ‘ordi-
nary’ ontic beings – no matter whether this ground was called logos,
substance, subject or God – without taking into account what Hei-
degger called the ‘grounding question’: the question as to the nature
of this difference as difference. The task of thinking (die Sache des
Denkens), for Heidegger, is to pass to this grounding question and
engage, not with a new metaphysical ground, but with the never-
ending play of differencing between the side of the ontic and the side
of the ontological. As we will constantly return to the ontological
difference (as well as to the task of thinking), I will postpone its fur-
ther discussion. But it is important to understand that the political
difference was not simply mapped onto the Heideggerian ontological
difference. It would be disingenuous to believe that the theoretical
innovation of the political difference was motivated by a desire to
pretentiously imitate philosophical discourse. Quite the contrary is
true: philosophical discourse was effectively politicised. Ontological
and political difference converge as soon as the ontological regis-
ter of being-qua-being is identified with the political and, vice versa,
conventional politics is perceived as simply an ‘ontic’ way of actu-
alising the political. The entire social realm, the realm of being-qua-
being, is thus perceived in the light of the political, which in turn has
to be differentiated from politics.
Such cross-fading between the ontological and the political
registers, which lies at the heart of recent political thought on
the Heideggerian Left, does not appear from nowhere. It attests
to an ontopolitical need.8 My suspicion is that the political dif-
ference – the conceptual differentiation between politics and the
political – emerged out of a historical conjuncture where it was
increasingly realised that neither can our social world be based on
a firm ground or ultimate principle, nor is it entirely without any
ground or principle (as we are not living in a vacuum) – rather,
it is based on what Judith Butler calls ‘contingent foundations’
(Butler 1992). These foundations will always be plural, they will
only be established temporarily, they can be reversed, and they
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‘strict sense of the term’ for a very clear reason: his thinking passes
through the realm of politics. In terms of practical experience it
is Laclau’s involvement with Argentinian populism and with the
New Social Movements of the 1970s and 1980s that constitutes
the background of his thinking:
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Over the thought of the babblement and rack of the age and the ages,
over the talk of the day and the scenes of the evening, arose in my mind
one question touching upon the final law of being, for which I would
seek answer from this sage. Going down to the depth of language, and
rising to the height of emphasis, during an interspace of silence, I inter-
rogated the revolutionist and philosopher in these fateful words, ‘What
is?’ And it seemed as though his mind were inverted for a moment
while he looked upon the roaring sea in front and the restless multitude
upon the beach. ‘What is?’ I had inquired, to which, in deep and solemn
tone, he replied: ‘Struggle!’ (Marx [1880] 1985: 443)
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42
from his land by the land-owner. The relation between both agents
is antagonistic. But it is not antagonistic because of their ‘objec-
tive’ social identities as either farmer or land-owner. Antagonism
shows itself in the fact that the farmer is hindered by his antagonist
from developing a self-enclosed identity. The ‘objective being’ of
the land-owner becomes a symbol of the ‘non-being’ of the farmer:
‘the presence of the “Other” prevents me from being totally myself.
The relation arises not from full totalities but from the impossi-
bility of their constitution’ (HSS 125). The example once more
illustrates that both real opposition and logical contradiction will
not get us any further in our attempt at describing the working of
antagonism: they are objective relations, while ‘antagonism consti-
tutes the limits of every objectivity, which is revealed as partial and
precarious objectification’ (HSS 125). Antagonism introduces an
ineradicable moment of negativity into social positivity.
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collapse. For what happens if the thin band which, in Marx, con-
nects antagonism to a metaphysics of history is cut through? What
if antagonism was not chained any more to the higher principles
of teleological necessity? Our elevation to the state of grace of a
peaceful and liberated society would be rendered impossible. But
then, the benefit would be that antagonism is set free to stand on
its own. Unrooted from a deeper and more solid ground, it would
become its own ungroundable ‘ground’. In this case, though, we
will be winding up with Heidegger rather than Marx – or, with a
Heideggerianised Marx. For it was Heidegger who, in the course of
his tireless destruction of Western metaphysics, insisted that there is
no ground of the ground and that, therefore, ‘the ground grounds
as a-byss’ (Heidegger 1994: 29).
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48
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that the Critique of Pure Reason led to all sorts of individual ‘Kant
crises’ and nervous breakdowns among his contemporaries – Hein-
rich Heine was one of the most prominent victims. Hegel was still
in accordance with this common appraisal of Kant as the Alleszer-
malmer who has ‘scrunched everything’. In Hegel’s eyes Kant’s
teaching on the antinomies of reason provoked the breakdown of
traditional metaphysics. But Kant, for Hegel, did not go far enough.
He restricted himself to proving the antinomic structure of the four
categories (quantity, quality, relation and modality). In Hegel, on
the other hand, every category of his system consists of two anti-
nomic sides. More than that, every side of an antinomy – thesis as
well as antithesis – already contains within itself its counterpart,
that is, the opposite. An internal diremption is at the basis of every
single concept, driving a concept to transgress itself. The radicality
of this principle is, however, subordinated to Hegel’s philosophy of
identity, his teleological necessitarianism, as every single stage in the
self-development of the system is always already determined from
the perspective of finality of the fully developed system (it therefore
can only be reconstructed ex post by the philosopher, which, at the
same time, explains why for Hegel a system can only be a seam-
less totality). Yet, the whole process that leads to this totality is not
based on a positive ground, but instead on the antinomic labour of
the negative.
Historically, this idea of a radical incommensurability spread
from Kant to Early Romanticism and German Idealism. Not only
Hegel, but also Fichte, Hölderlin, Schlegel, Novalis, and many
others developed their own versions of contradiction, paradox, or
antinomy (Arndt 2009). They collectively forged a modern idea of
radical negativity, or incommensurability, which was later politi-
cised by the young Hegelians and continues to secretly inform
today’s notion of antagonism. Historically, they reacted to the dis-
solution of a final ground, something that could not be ignored
in a world where state bureaucracy increasingly gained power,
the social field became differentiated into functional systems, the
pauperisation of ever larger sections of the population could not
be ignored, and the French Revolution had shown a way out of
political regimes that claimed to be based on transcendent grounds
of legitimation. The experience of fragmentation and division was
50
It is not until the first half of the twentieth century that we can
witness a recovery of the radical moment of negativity. Initially,
however, the latter did not so much re-emerge within the field of
Marxism, as negativity was reinserted into the field of a newly
established ontology. With the Kantian antinomies of reason, the
dominant paradigm of epistemology had encountered its limits.
Now, these limits, it seems, reappeared as an intrinsic element of
epistemology’s great, and largely forgotten, rival paradigm: ontol-
ogy. For this reason, the introduction of Hegel and Heidegger into
French philosophy in the 1930s was to a significant degree directed
against the dominance of Cartesian rationalism, which in France
had assumed the role of a quasi-official state doctrine (Roth 1988;
Janicaud 2001). However, ontology did not re-emerge in full glory,
as a return to the pre-critical, ‘pre-modern’ stable ground of being.
By the time of its return, the category of being had turned into
something intrinsically precarious, something haunted by the spec-
tre of its own absent ground. For this reason, today’s ontology
cannot any longer be understood in terms of, to use Heidegger’s
words, traditional onto-theology, in which the role of being was
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which has a very real presence. Finite being is thus held out in a
Nothing that is not at all neutral or indifferent. For if Nothing,
as Heidegger puts it, ‘were only something indifferently negative,
how could we understand, for example, horror and terror before
the Nothing and nihilation’ (Heidegger 1998: 45)?
It was during the perhaps single most important academic event
of the twentieth century that the Heideggerian notion of finitude
was folded back into Hegelian dialectics, thus producing an ‘anthro-
pological’ theory of negativity, lack and desire that should prove to
be the starting point for subsequent political ontologies. Alexandre
Kojève’s seminar on Hegel’s Phenomenology of Spirit, held at the
École Pratique des Hautes Études between 1933 and 1939 and vis-
ited by, among others, Bataille, Queneau, Aron, Breton, Merleau-
Ponty, Hyppolite, Éric Weil and Lacan (even Hannah Arendt paid
the seminar an occasional visit), was silently devoted to the Heideg-
gerianisation of Hegel (Kojève 1980). Hegel is celebrated by Kojève
for having introduced into ontology the fundamental category of
negativity, yet by assimilating that category to the Heideggerian
notion of finitude, Kojève proposes an ‘existential’ or anthropolog-
ical version of Hegelian dialectics, whose field of application is now
entirely restricted to the realm of human affairs, thus excluding
the realm of nature. As a result, Kojève can define negation as the
constructive act by which man, under the sign of his own finitude
(or death), freely creates history. To define negativity in terms of a
free and creative form of human action allows Kojève to simulta-
neously abandon the more contemplative approach of Heidegger
and radicalise the Hegelian idea of historicity (the Kojèvian idea of
action will be taken up in Chapter 8). In Hegel’s dialectics between
lord and bondsman, Kojève detects a fundamental antagonism at
the heart of history. Lord and bondsman are bound together by
their negatory struggle for recognition. Initially, the lord is not the
one who is more powerful but the one who is prepared to accept
his finitude and risk his life in the struggle for recognition – thus
forcing the bondsman to recognise him as lord. However, forced
recognition can never be full recognition. Full recognition can
only be achieved if it is mutual, which would imply the ultimate
‘sublation’ (Aufhebung) or dissolution of negativity, and the final
resolution of struggle. But, if the struggle for recognition functions
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As emphasised in this passage, the split between the ontic and the
ontological must be radical, otherwise it would be internal to the
ontic. Or, in terms of Laclauian discourse theory: it would be part
of a system of differences as simply one more difference. To call
the ontic and the ontological ‘irremediably split’, as Laclau and
Zac do, means exactly this: that the radical difference between the
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Laclau’s Question
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Thinking Polemos?
In the previous chapter we traced back the Marxian name for being
– ‘Struggle!’ – to its roots in German Idealism: radical negativity.
The latter was described in terms of a fundamental blockade, an
unsurpassable incommensurability at the ground of society. It is
evident that such a notion of antagonism is much more demanding
than any conventional idea of social conflicts. Antagonism cannot
be absorbed into the image of two opposing camps as would be
typical for conflicts of war or class struggle. This new notion of
antagonism, hence, differs from any empiricist or objectivist set-
ting of conflicts between social groups, as would be typical for
bourgeois conflict sociology. It is far away from any kind of social
objectivism. As a figure of the incommensurable, to repeat what
was established in the previous chapter, antagonism must not be
confused with, in Kantian terms, a ‘real opposition’ between two
objectively given opponents – the bourgeoisie vs the proletariat,
the Romans vs the Carthaginians, the Confederates vs the Union-
ists, or any other binarism of that order. As a name for the absence
of any final ground of the social, antagonism is not conflict, it is
that which engenders conflicts (and their preliminary pacification),
for the impossibility of total closure will forever engender disputes
about partial closure. The advantage of such an ontological con-
ception, as opposed to a purely ontic one, is clear. It allows us
to affirm the foundational nature of social conflictuality without
falling into the trap of a violent ‘bellicism’ by either envisaging
the political according to the Schmittian friend–enemy criterion
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67
War is the motor behind institutions and order. In the smallest of its
cogs, peace is waging a secret war. To put it another way, we have
to interpret the war that is going on beneath peace; peace itself is a
coded war. We are therefore at war with one another; a battlefront
runs through the whole of society, continuously and permanently, and
it is this battlefront that puts us all on one side or the other. There is
no such thing as a neutral subject. We are all inevitably someone’s
adversary. (Foucault 2003: 50–1)
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Only, the order of fragile rationality, that appears to arch over the
battle zone, makes us believe that the clash of arms has ceased.
Clearly, Foucault’s own genealogical project has to be located
within this genealogy. Only this explains why his historical account,
in many passages of these lectures, tends to turn into a paean of
praise. Foucault concedes his own fascination at the beginning of
his lecture of 28 January. However, in the course of his lectures
it becomes increasingly clear that the historico-political discourse
eventually proves indefensible as the polemological binarism was
biologised in the nineteenth century and the constitutive function
of war re-envisaged in medical and biological terms. The ‘war
hypothesis’ was reframed by social Darwinists as a struggle for sur-
vival, which implies a fundamental conversion of the logic of con-
flictuality. A social binarism turns into a biological monism. There
are not two ‘races’ any more (in the pre-biological sense of national
groups such as Franks vs Gauls) that face each other, but a single
‘race’ is differentiated into an ‘over’- and a ‘sub’-race. The latter
threatens to infect and decompose the social organism as a whole.
Society has to be defended, that is, cleansed from everything that
is perceived as heterogeneous to its totality. With his genealogy of
state racism at the end of his lectures, Foucault has manoeuvred his
genealogical project into an impasse. If the war hypothesis converts
itself into racism, it can impossibly be retained as a methodological
principle for further research. The genealogy of genealogy has led
to the dissolution of genealogy (as polemology).4 Not without good
reason. To conceive of social conflictuality in terms of war is politi-
cally problematic and intellectually misleading. I would describe
this fantasy on the verge of a sociological bellicism as pseudo-
radical. It is pseudo-radical not only because it involves phantas-
matic violence, but, more than that, because it does not go to the
ontological roots of social conflictuality. It stops short of being
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What I find striking in the majority – if not of Marx’s texts then those
of the Marxists (except perhaps Trotsky) – is the way they pass over in
silence what is understood by struggle when one talks of class struggle.
What does struggle mean here? Is it a dialectical confrontation? An
economic battle? A war? Is civil society riven by class struggle to be
seen as a war continued by other means? (Foucault 1980: 208)
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It is necessary to knot, bind, weave, and regulate civil peace each and
every day because the threat of a tear always looms: the slightest loos-
ening of the knot, the tiniest split in the fabric, and the rift dividing
the city gapes open. This would be the end of the One, the breakup,
the return to multiplicity – in short, a catastrophe. In order to ban-
ish the very thought of it, the bond of community must be made ever
tighter, so that no disagreement (diaphora) may arise and so that no
hate and stasis can slip through. (Loraux 2006: 94)
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apparent social harmony. At the same time, and this constitutes the
punchline of Wagner-Pacifici’s research, in moments of standoff we
become aware of the contingency of rule-led processes. The stand-
off allows us to experience Contingency in Action (the subtitle of
her book). The concept of the standoff is – just like that of stasis – a
contingency concept.
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result that the original intuition which gave rise to them is completely
forgotten. At the end of his life, Husserl saw the crisis of European
science as the consequence of a growing separation between the ossi-
fied practice of the sciences and the vital primary terrain in which the
original or constitutive intuitions of those sciences were rooted. The
task of transcendental phenomenology consisted of recovering those
original institutions. Husserl called the routinization and forgetting of
origins ‘sedimentation’, and the recovery of the ‘constitutive’ activity
of thought ‘reactivation’. (NR 34)
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Since every sedimented layer of the social came into the world
through an original moment of exclusion, social objectivity could
have been constructed differently. In other words, social sedimen-
tations are contingent, because they could have been instituted in
a dissimilar form.4 It is through processes of sedimentation that
the contingent, historical and power-ridden nature of the origi-
nal institution falls into oblivion. What is more, we not only tend
to forget the concrete historical alternatives once available, we
also forget the aspect of radical negativity at the ground of all
social relations: their antagonistic character, as expressed by the
unavoidable struggle raging over the question as to which alterna-
tive should in a given moment be ruled out.
Nonetheless, the moment of radical negativity attached to the
original institution cannot be completely erased from the field of
sedimentations. Social positivity will always be tainted by traces
of original negativity – traces of contingency, historicity, power
and conflictuality – since total sedimentation would be a logical
impossibility. A world consisting of repetitive practices without
any room for deviations would be a self-propelled machinery, a
perpetuum mobile, not a social world. No institution can be total.5
This leads us to the second qualification of the above-said. For
as long as a trace of original negativity remains, latently at least,
within the sphere of social objectivity, it will always be possible
to remind ourselves of it. This, according to the Laclauian lexi-
con, constitutes the moment of ‘the political’, when the contin-
gent, ungrounded nature of social objectivity becomes fully visible
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(NR 35). Laclau’s term for this is reactivation. For Husserl, it was
the philosophers’ obligation – as ‘functionaries of mankind’ – to
return to the moment of original institution and its variations
within later institutions and reactivate them by questioning their
sedimented forms (Husserl 1962: 72). What is to be reactivated
for Laclau is not so much the original instituting moment as such.
We do not have access to the concrete historical alternatives once
available but now gone forever. What can be reactivated only is
the contingent and antagonistic character of social sedimenta-
tions, the groundless nature of the social through newly emerging
antagonisms: ‘Reactivation does not therefore consist of returning
to the original situation, but merely of rediscovering, through the
emergence of new antagonisms, the contingent nature of so-called
“objectivity”’ (NR 34–5). And, for Laclau, it is not so much a mat-
ter of philosophical insight that would allow us to reactivate for-
gotten origins. It is a matter of politics. Only on the basis of newly
emerging antagonisms can we become conscious of the original
range of available alternatives: ‘this rediscovery can reactivate the
historical understanding of the original acts of institution insofar
as stagnant forms that were simply considered as objectivity and
taken for granted are now revealed as contingent and project that
contingency to the “origins” themselves’ (NR 35). It is through the
collision of antagonistic forces that we become aware of the con-
tingent nature of sedimented routines. Only then do we become
conscious of the fact that things could be different – historically, at
present, and in the future.
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game Freud (1999: 12–13) observed with a little child who aimed
to get to grips with the absence of his mother through inventing
a repetitive game for himself. In this way repetition allowed the
child to inscribe absence into the space of presence (Laclau 1990:
41).7 The social can thus be defined as a relationally articulated
spatial structure whose original institution resulted from an act of
radical negativity (i.e. antagonism) which later became forgotten,
but in any moment can be reactivated through the experience of
dislocation, i.e. time.
This theory was met with fierce criticism by human geogra-
phers.8 In particular, Laclau was charged by Doreen Massey with
holding onto an outmoded notion of space. In the 1960s and
1970s, as Massey recounts, spatial theories in human geography
underwent the same constructivist turn that other social sciences
had experienced. The canonical slogan of the time was that space
had to be conceived as socially constructed. It is not an unchang-
ing substance or foundation on which society rests; rather, the
specific structure of space is taken to be the result of social, eco-
nomic and political processes – a perspective nicely captured by
Timothy Luke: ‘[s]pace does not exist as such; it too must be fab-
ricated continuously in the production and reproduction of soci-
ety’ (Luke 1996: 120). However, from the 1980s onwards, this
approach was radicalised to the point of nearly being inverted.
Not only is space now seen as socially constructed, the general
understanding is, inversely, that the social sphere is also spatially
constructed. It is now claimed, according to Massey, that the
spatial institution of the social sphere affects the way in which
society works, as the latter will continuously be transformed
through processes of spatialisation. While in the earlier account
space was still conceptualised as an entirely passive entity, i.e. as
the outcome of processes of social construction, in today’s view it
is space itself which assumes the role of a social agent. As Massey
claims in For Space (Massey 2005), space must be envisaged as
something open, multiple, and heterogeneous by nature; not only
is it constantly being made and remade, there is also a certain
disruptive quality to it. Only in a second step is this disrupting
and constantly changing force of space tamed and ossified, for
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the most minute conflicts and contingencies. Those who have such
a sense see the social begin to flicker before their very eyes, hear
it buzz in their ears and feel it wobble underneath their feet. The
hauntological work of the present-absent instance of antagonism
can be recognised by the high-frequency oscillation of conditions
that, up to this point, had been considered stable. The social begins
to oscillate as soon as it is touched by antagonism. It oscillates
when radical negativity is set in motion by the play of difference.
This phenomenon is still far removed from politics in the stricter
sense (even from what we will call minimal politics). It does not
matter whether we find ourselves on the beach with Marx, out-
side the asylums and prisons with Foucault or at the museum with
Bourdieu – there is always some struggle to watch, which will cast
unease over even the greatest idyll. The political expresses itself,
after all, not only in the large upheavals but also in the secret con-
flictuality of daily life – the minor and barely visible tectonic shifts
of social sediments.
The conventional term of ‘micro-politics’ is, as will be argued
in the subsequent chapters, a misnomer, for what we are dealing
with at this micrological level of social vibrations, effectuated by
antagonism, has nothing to do yet with ‘politics’ in any mean-
ingful sense. It is the most minimal form of appearance of the
political. And as the hauntological labour of the negative cannot
easily be entered on a micro/macro scale, one should perhaps
abandon the qualification ‘micro’ altogether or only retain it for
heuristic reasons. From the vantage point of this ‘hauntology’ of
the political, it would be wrong to order antagonisms by their
size. If the distortion of the relational space of the social is a phe-
nomenic form of appearance of antagonism, then the question of
scale is not important. Antagonism, as an ontological concept,
is beyond the scalable. Its modulations reach from revolution to
the fight over housework, from the general strike to skiving off.12
Antagonism – as opposed to ontic politics – cannot be grasped
by a sociological differentiation into micro and macro. It is not
quantifiable; it is merely possible to experience its intensity – or
more precisely: experience it as intensity.
This differential play of negativity, as it occurs throughout the
social on diverse levels of intensity, is nicely captured by Hegel’s
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Antagonism sends out shock waves that capture every single body,
albeit with differing force. It is certainly true that the limits of
the social are not always experienced in the form of open pro-
test and revolt, but sometimes they are. Let us therefore not for-
get, amid the political affectology of the self, the older meaning
of restless motion: turmoil and insurgence. Social ‘movements’
carry it in their name until now. In French, the Latin word for
movement, motus, is still there in émeute, meaning insurgence
or popular uprising; it is also there in the German Meute and
Meuterei (Sardinha 2010: 124–5), in the ‘mutiny’; and it is there in
the ‘mob’ (from Latin mobile). On the ontological plane of affec-
tology, ‘a mob’ is just any movement of intensified and synchro-
nised trembling. An ontology of the political must retain a sense
of such collective restlessness. For what needs to be explained is
not only the enfolding of antagonism into the social, but also the
unfolding of the social into an antagonism. By unfolding, I mean
nothing other than the politicisation of a social situation. Here,
political and social movements appear as catalysts. They bring to
light struggles that are subdued or subconsciously taking place in
the course of daily life – for example, between the sexes, between
the classes, between majorities and minorities – and make it pos-
sible to transform them into politics. Contingency and conflictual-
ity are thus experienced at the hands of the struggles brought to
light by social movements. The same is true for the self. When the
outside of society – antagonism – is folded into our bodies in the
form of the self, then it can also be unfolded back into the social by
way of politics. That presupposes, of course, the collectivisation of
those shocks and affects which hit every singular body. Typically,
this happens in protest. Protests do not emerge from discursive
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The alternative is clear: in the first case, the group will be the start-
ing point of the analysis, in the second the group will be the out-
come of a process of discursive articulation; and it goes without
saying that Laclau opts for the second alternative which is the only
one consistent with a post-foundational approach in discourse
theory. It is through the discursive articulation of protest that the
identity of the protesters is articulated in the first place. Yet this
account still leaves unanswered the question as to the minimal unit
112
Having laid out this distinction between (weak) request and (strong)
demand, Laclau proceeds with the following example:
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the right to present the requests or the right of the decisory instance
to take the decision. [. . .] They presuppose that there is no social
division and that any legitimate demand can be satisfied in a non-
antagonistic, administrative way. (Laclau 2005b: 36)
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into a political demand. This demand might, under the right cir-
cumstances, link up with other unsatisfied demands. And what all
these demands will have in common is not a common substance; in
fact, they do not necessarily have to have anything in common at
the level of their claims’ positive content. And still, they will have
to have ‘something’ in common, even as this ‘something’ must be
of an entirely negative nature: it is that outside instance which
is considered to be responsible for the shared feeling of frustra-
tion. Now, as I said before, in order for an alliance between these
demands to be established, they will have to be linked up some-
how: and here the logic of hegemonic articulation enters the pic-
ture. As such, the diverse demands for transportation, schooling,
etc. constitute a set of differences where every differential posi-
tion has a positive content. In the moment of articulation, these
differences have to be arranged or articulated into a relation of
equivalence. Consequently, the logic of equivalence is defined by
Laclau as:
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incarnate the whole once and for all. The universal horizon to be
incarnated by a particular social force will have to accommodate
competing forces struggling over the hegemonic function of incar-
nating the whole. As a result, the hegemonic process will never
come to a halt and a process of ‘going macro’ might very well be
followed by the reverse process of losing hegemonic amplitude, i.e.
of ‘going micro’. Chains of articulated demands can disintegrate
and the degree of antagonisation may decrease due to a more dif-
ferential reading principle of a situation gaining ground against
the equivalential one. For instance, some of the neighbourhood
demands for housing, schooling, etc. could be met by the local
council which will have a disarticulatory effect on their equival-
ential relation vis-à-vis the remaining demands. In this case, many
unfulfilled demands will return to the stage of request, or might
even be experienced again as simple social needs without being
articulated at all. Other demands might change sides and become
articulated with political forces and discourses of completely dif-
ferent, perhaps opposite provenance. This is what happened in the
case of current right-wing forms of populism where demagogues of
the political right effectively managed to integrate leftist demands
for social security and the defence of the welfare state into their
xenophobic discourse.
It should by now be clear why Laclau’s account of populism
– combined with his earlier theorisations of discourse and hege-
mony – presents an important contribution to the field not only
of discourse theory and political science but also of anthropol-
ogy, (micro-)sociology and Cultural Studies. From a political
perspective, most approaches in these disciplines are barely able
to describe in a satisfactory way the precise nature and logic of
processes of ‘going macro’. While they are well equipped theo-
retically and methodologically to analyse micro-political forms of
subordination and resistance, they exhibit a certain degree of neg-
ligence regarding macro-political formations, and, what is more,
they do not provide any account of the missing link between the
micro- and the macro-level of politics, between a ‘politics of cul-
ture’ and the ‘politics of politics’. Yet Laclau’s theory of the pas-
sage from need to request and, eventually, to demand can help to
delineate the traces of this missing link. As soon as translated into
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(Hall 1988: 11). And while the scale of such a strategy certainly
should not be restricted to politics in the narrow sense, the counter-
hegemonic strategy nevertheless will have to be played out on the
macro-political field, rather than being constrained to the – most
likely entirely disparate – tactics of everyday life resistance. Only
by way of macro-political, i.e. strategic forms of reaggregation,
will micro-political tactics add up to a counter-hegemonic project.
And the name for this aggregational logic – of the transformation
of dispersed tactics into more coherent strategies, of micro-political
resistance into macro-political protest, of the subordinate into the
hegemonic, and, eventually of the particular into the universal – is,
precisely, populism.
It is for this reason that populism became the shibboleth for
Cultural Studies as a political project.6 The notion of populism
marks a crossing-point where a decision has to be taken either
to disavow populism (and thus to by and large ignore the macro-
political), or fully to flesh out a theory of populism for the sake
of Cultural Studies’ larger political aims. The second road was
taken by Stuart Hall, who took an interest in political populism
– an interest not widely shared by those who chose the first road
– with the aim of contributing theoretically and analytically to
the construction of a socialist (counter-)hegemony. Yet in many
quarters of the field of Cultural Studies populism was, together
with Laclau’s name, relegated to the footnotes of Cultural Studies’
collective memory.7
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assumes that one must not expect the links between popular cul-
ture and politics, or between the tactic and the strategic, ‘to be
direct or immediate – rather, we must expect them to be diffuse,
deferred, and not necessarily entailed at all’ (165). While this might
be correct from the viewpoint of a student of micro-political forms
of resistance, and while Fiske agrees that the ‘forging of produc-
tive links between the resistant tactics of the everyday and action
at the strategic level is one of the most important and neglected
tasks of the left’ (162), it does not really explain how the popular
gets linked to macro-politics, how indirect forms of action turn
into direct forms. What is missing is a clear determination of the
nature of the link between the ‘micropolitics of everyday life and
the macropolitics of organized action’ (161).
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Minima Politica
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Let me state at the outset that there are political stakes riding on
the reformulation of the problem in terms of minimal politics.
Our intention is to rehabilitate those forms of political actions
that are too often denied a political status, and which are fre-
quently said to be too inefficient (because they did not have an
effect), or too small (because they did not cross the mass media’s
horizon of perception), or too corrupt (because part of them rests
in the institutions of the state, or indeed because they entered into
deals with ‘the enemy’). Although the truth of such accusations
can only be assessed in concreto for each individual case, we can
nevertheless state that these accusations largely adhere to a his-
torically outmoded notion of politics. They hardly do justice to
modern-day social movements, which act on the basis of mobile
and growing associations and in doing so do not measure the
success of their efforts at political mobilisation in the mere num-
ber of demonstration participants or the simple breadth of mass
media reports. They look for and create different kinds of public
presence. They have recourse to highly diverse forms of political
action that usually take place on a small scale, quite like the more
traditional forms such as vigils or neighbourhood councils, but
which are also not centrally concerned with issues of size anyway.
In a way, they fly underneath the radar of traditional perspectives
on politics (see Marchart 2013b).
In the traditional perspective, the fantasy of ‘grand politics’
dominates, whether that is taken to mean the politics of grand col-
lective actors (parties, trade unions, state institutions) or those of
‘grand’ individuals. On the Marxist Left, the grandness of the agent
was a result of the global, historical mission of a universal class. All
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Becoming-Major
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145
lack (without this fantasy, the result would not be political activ-
ity but passive nihilism). That means, simply, that a metaphysical
moment in the stricter sense cannot be removed from the notion of
politics. Political action presupposes the ‘will-to-will’ – Gramsci’s
collective will of a political project – which Heidegger quite rightly
criticised in Nietzsche as a remnant of metaphysics. However, poli-
tics, even in a post-foundational mode, cannot make do without
such a remnant of a certain will-to-foundation. The subject of the
as if can only act on the basis of the transcendental illusion that it
does have foundational power, and is therefore able to will its own
will – and, as Heidegger put it, this ‘will-to-will, i.e. willing is: to
will yourself’ (Heidegger 1961: 33).
To be clear, it does not make much difference whether, phil-
osophically speaking, human actors are in actual fact equipped
with a faculty of volition, or whether this is just a counter-factual
assumption. We are not into brain research. The capacity to act
(and be activated) is simply a working assumption without which
it would make little sense to speak about political acting in the
first place. Yet, this assumption should not be hypostasised into
a voluntarist ideology. The political cannot be brought to life by
an act of pure will. It would be a mistake to assume that we can
construct a political situation in the same way in which a car or
a house can be constructed. It is a well-known fact of experience
that the successful organisation of, for instance, a street manifesta-
tion is far from being a matter of pure will. Those who believe in
pure voluntarism will most likely end up standing alone at a street
corner. Something additional has to happen. A political situation
cannot simply be constructed, it must also be encountered: there
is a political situation – there is in the very sense of Heidegger’s
es gibt, or the il y a of the French Heideggerians, understood as
shorthand for an a-subjective event or Ereignis. A political situa-
tion emerges from the event of the political – an event which, by
virtue of being one, cannot be constructed through an act of will.
If a political situation is encountered, then because it is brought
about not ‘by us’, it is brought about by the a-subjective force of
the political, the most appropriate name for which is antagonism.
Where we originally rejected the fantasies of the omnipotence
of ‘grand politics’, it now turns out that this fantasy is essential, in
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Naming Being
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Why Ontology?
The preceding discussion may help explain why we hold onto the
name ‘ontology’. Let me clarify why an apparently overcome philo-
sophical discipline should be retained. As explained in Chapter 1,
modern philosophy has turned into a quest for the conditions of
understanding, bypassing all questions concerning the nature of
being.10 Why, then, hold onto such an apparently outdated enter-
prise? Not for reasons of philosophical nostalgia, to be sure, but
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176
Balibar and Negri agree that even the most abstract metaphysics
in Spinoza’s works is inseparably related to politics. Negri’s stud-
ies have shown that any metaphysics, at least implicitly, becomes
a political ontology to the extent to which it is moulded by a given
‘hegemonic dispositif’. The question to be aimed at Balibar, how-
ever, is whether this reciprocal relationship between ontology and
politics describes only the works of Spinoza or whether we ought
in fact to suspect that it is inherent in the production of philoso-
phy itself. If the thesis remains limited to Spinoza, there is a danger
that Spinoza will be celebrated as an exception among thinkers
(a quite traditional tendency that can still be found in Negri,
Deleuze and others). What might happen, however, if we remove
this limitation? It will turn out that the most abstract works of
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178
Taking into account what has been elaborated so far in this book
– is it at all conceivable that such a goal could ever be achieved
by way of a purely intellectual activity? The original facticity
of which Laclau speaks was identified by us as the instance of
antagonism. And, as I have argued, a dormant antagonism can
only be reactivated by antagonism. What is needed, thus, is a
political activity of folding antagonism back into philosophy,
of reactivating the historical instance of the political, and of
unfolding the political substrate of the philosophical. Politicis-
ing philosophy – in both its diachronic and synchronic dimen-
sions – proves possible because philosophy is and has always
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184
does not capture the ontic nature of politics. Is there any kind of
politics, other than an entirely depoliticised one, that would ever
amount to a ‘play without why’? A politics that does not involve
strategic reasoning or seek to achieve particular goals would be
hardly imaginable as politics.
If we now move to the Heideggerian notion of thinking, what
has been said about acting must also apply to thinking. While the
latter is convincingly portrayed by Heidegger as a practical activity
embedded ‘in-the-world’, the kind of action attributed to thinking
is described in rather peculiar terms ‘of “authentic temporality”,
of “releasement”, of “dwelling” in language, or of “letting things
come to presence in their world”’ (7). These are the Heideggerian
tropes of passive activity. Thinking, from this perspective, involves
a strong inclination towards passivism so typical for a metaphysi-
cal tradition where thinking has always been associated with med-
itative contemplation as far as possible detached from political
involvement.4 A characteristically Heideggerian attitude towards
acting, as well as thinking, would thus be to ‘wait and see’ what
is going to unfold as the ‘happening’ of being. The Heideggerian
rendering of the event of being is reminiscent of Allan Kaprow’s
Zen-inspired definition of (artistic) happenings as ‘events that, put
simply, happen’ (Kaprow 2003: 16); and a similarly tautological
definition of thinking is provided in Heidegger’s famous ‘Letter on
“Humanism”’:
Thinking does not become action only because some effect issues
from it or because it is applied. Thinking acts insofar as it thinks. Such
action is presumably the simplest and at the same time the highest
because it concerns the relation of being to humans. But all working
or effecting lies in being and is directed towards beings. Thinking, in
contrast, lets itself be claimed by being so that it can say the truth of
being. Thinking accomplishes this letting. (Heidegger 1999: 239)
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191
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195
of their actions, for otherwise they would not start acting in the
first place. While we are not the source of our actions, we must
attribute to ourselves the capacity to act unless we want to remain
passive bystanders.7 What is more, political agency results from
an encounter with antagonism while, at the same time, an agent is
supposed to act antagonistically, i.e. to negate the given. So, rather
than being the source of their actions, political agents emerge
from this circular process. In a manner not entirely dissimilar
to Kojèvian dialectics, a given social identity (a social group, for
instance, defined by its differential location in the social topog-
raphy), is activated into becoming a political agent by a purely
negative instance of dislocation, and, by starting to negate the
given in turn, comes to emerge as a political actor –an actor who
may very well pronounce: I am because I negate – and I negate
because my being is negated.8
Politics, therefore, is a truly circular affair. As political agents
we are activated by antagonism in the very moment we encounter
conflict and contingency; and yet, our task as political agents is to
activate antagonism in the first place. From this follows a political
imperative: act as if you could activate what activates you. Rather
than ‘acting’ in the mode of Heidegger’s passive activity, one has
to shift to a mode of active passivity. Acting amounts to no more
than putting a wager on the emergence of antagonism within the
field of ontic social practices. By virtue of being an attempt, and
no more than that, it may easily fail. And yet, antagonism – as
the truly activating force – must be activated. There is no other
possibility for antagonism to emerge as it does not, in any sub-
stantial sense, pre-exist its activation by ontic practice (to be pre-
cise, antagonism does not exist other than in its aggregate state
of social sedimentation; see Chapter 4). As was explained earlier,
antagonism as an instance of radical negativity, far from constitut-
ing something of the order of a natural force somewhere out there,
detached from our practice, is always politically produced. What
from an ontological perspective is the name for an insurmountable
blockade of society – a mere incommensurability that cannot be
constructed – is constructed, from an ontic perspective, through
a particular practice: the negation of the given. No doubt, there
could always emerge the problem that, put trivially, ‘the given’
196
does not bother very much. The dominant powers may be too
strong, hegemony too deeply entrenched for a particular politics
to succeed in reactivating sedimented antagonisms. Be that as it
may, a dormant antagonism does not awake from its slumber by
itself. Its awakening must be provoked – without any guarantee
of success. Politics, by way of protestation, is about provoking
antagonism. With regard to the latter, the political agent acts as
agent provocateur. This agent provocateur is Kojève’s ‘Man’ – that
‘Nothingness that nihilates through the negation of Being’.
We have now arrived at the point where the identical argu-
ment can be applied to our conception of thinking. As a way of
acting politically, thinking must be conceived along the same lines
as acting. While it is not, or not necessarily, a condensed form of
class struggle, as Althusser would have it, it certainly compels us
to engage in an open effort towards repoliticising sedimented con-
flicts in the field of theory – which obviously implies that thinking
accords to exactly the same minimal criteria as any other kind of
politics (it must be envisaged as a collective, organised, strategic,
partisan and conflictual endeavour aimed at attaining intellectual
and, in the last instance, political hegemony). Furthermore, think-
ing, I have insisted, should be seen as a mode of political agency
that begins to unfold by way of activating antagonism. It is thus
drawn into the same virtuous circle as any other kind of politics.
Thinking needs to be activated by antagonism, which, in turn,
needs to be activated by thinking. This reversible relation between
thinking and antagonism – tentatively expressed by the title of this
book: Thinking Antagonism – bears radical consequences with
regard to the subject of thinking. It is certainly not an individual.
What we call a ‘thinker’ is, in its essence, a group or collective that
is partially working in the field of philosophy (or, above and below
the field of philosophy). This assumption runs counter to received
opinion with regard to thinking. It nonetheless follows from
what was previously established: it is the agent (in the form of an
organised collectivity) that results from acting – rather than acting
emanating from an agent. Similarly, what is called a ‘thinker’ by
convention, far from being an individual, emerges from hegemonic
struggles by way of tendentially organised, collective strategic and
partisan activities.
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Affirming Affirmation
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199
this power wane, their capacity to act will also be debilitated. And,
secondly, we should not make the mistake of imagining this will-
to-will to be a destructive force. In order to negate the given, I
said, an agent has to affirm capacities that it does not possess. In
a moment of self-assertion one’s will-to-act has to be affirmed,
for otherwise we would remain in a state of coach-potato ‘passive
nihilism’. Becoming active, in other words, is premised upon the
affirmation of our capacity to act, that is, our will-to-will. To act –
and, therefore, to negate – means to affirm affirmation.
The latter insight, counter-intuitive as it appears, finds support
in what arguably was one of Gilles Deleuze’s greatest achieve-
ments, his early interpretation of Nietzsche’s philosophy (Deleuze
1986). Deleuze points out that in Nietzsche ‘[b]ecoming-active is
affirming and affirmative’ (68). This might seem to blatantly con-
tradict our definition of acting as the negation of the given. And
Deleuze himself rejects any compromise between Nietzsche and
Hegel (195). However, pure affirmation, as presented in Nietzsche,
does involve negation. Only in simple affirmation – in the ‘Ye-a’ of
the ass, the pack animal that bears the burden of the given – is the
given accepted as it is:
To affirm the given with the simple ‘yes’ of the ass is to affirm the
nihilistic condition of the world. It is to make peace with those
relations of exclusion, oppression and subordination that to a
large extent define the given. The ass is a burden-carrying creature
devoid of political agency. A single ‘yes’ is therefore not sufficient:
‘two affirmations are necessary to turn the whole of negation into
a mode of affirming’ (Deleuze 1986: 180). Acting means to affirm
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201
Thinking Democracy
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203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
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214
215
216
217
Introduction
Chapter 1
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220
221
Chapter 2
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223
11. It will also provide us with a vocabulary that will help to trans-
late Laclau’s concern with signification and discourse, still very
much located in the linguistic turn, into the language of social
ontology.
12. Not in the narrow sense of the political system, to be sure, but in an
integral sense of ‘hegemonic efforts’ which involve and spread over
all areas of the social. Political ontology, hence, aims at explaining
the political logic behind the construction of all social beings. The
‘political’, here, refers to what, on a different occasion, I have called
‘integral politics’ (see Marchart 2013b: 195) – in analogy to what
Gramsci calls the ‘integral State’ as the sum total of political society
(the State in the conventional sense) and civil society. Integral poli-
tics can be understood as the sum total of political action, including,
as we will see, the most minimal forms of politics, wherever in the
social topography such action occurs.
13. As William Connolly observed, ‘what is figured from one perspec-
tive as a lack of fullness can also be figured as the abundance over
identity that keeps desire moving’ (Connolly 1995: 55). A similar
point was made by Laclau: ‘I do not see “lack” and “excess” as two
opposite categories, so that asserting the priority of one would nec-
essarily exclude the other, but as being two necessary moments of a
unique ontological condition. It is because there is lack, conceived
as deficient being, that excess becomes possible. An immanent full-
ness, without any internal rents, would make both lack and excess
redundant’ (Laclau 2005c: 256).
Chapter 3
224
225
art of the political, called for by their de-fault of origin, and arising
from their technicity’ (192–3).
8. Stiegler cannot explain convincingly the logic by which a given ‘we’,
a political collectivity, is constructed. His reference to Simondon’s
concept of individuation, which always involves both the individ-
ual and the collective, does not do the trick. Without a notion of
antagonism we cannot fully explain how a ‘we’ is delineated (and
subverted) vis-à-vis other ‘we’s. It can thus be suspected that there
is no concept of politics in Simondon either (for a discussion of this
question see Toscano 2004).
9. If this is the case, will it not disprove our claim that a concept of
antagonism – as the single name for the twofold experience of con-
flict and contingency – could only be elaborated in modernity? There
is no contradiction here, as long as it is taken into account that, if we
are to really speak of quasi-transcendental definitions, experiences
of conflict and contingency cannot be limited to modern societies
alone. Social being as such is contingent (society could always be
ordered differently, or even – the threat of Hobbesian civil war –
not ordered at all). And it is, at the same time, always pervaded by
conflicts. Society, and not only modern society, therefore rests on the
ground and abyss of antagonism. Modern society is, however, dif-
ferent from other societies in that all (not only some) social facts are
experienced as being alterable by way of conflict.
10. Apart from the obvious difference that for the Greeks stasis occurred
in moments of exception, while, from an ontological point of view,
antagonism lies at the ground of all social being at all times.
Chapter 4
226
227
228
229
230
Chapter 5
1. It thereby refers the reader back to Laclau’s theory of New Social
Movements developed together with Chantal Mouffe in Hegemony
and Socialist Strategy. Even as at first sight, the connection between
Laclau’s work on populist movements and Laclau and Mouffe’s discus-
sion of New Social Movements may not be obvious, Latin-American
populism always had more to do with what in the 1970s and 1980s
came to be called New Social Movements – defined by their strong
reliance on cultural factors in the process of political identity-building
(Melucci 1989; Touraine 1981) – than with the traditional party poli-
tics of exclusively class-based movements.
2. This concept is considered the key term, not only in post-foundational
discourse theory, but also in Cultural Studies where it has a history
that reaches back to the late 1970s (see Slack 1996). It should be
added that, despite some earlier reservations, in the later work of
Stuart Hall (1997) the concept of the cultural tends to become co-
extensive with the concept of the discursive in Laclau’s sense, which
is not that surprising since the cultural has often been defined, in the
Birmingham tradition, as that dimension of the social where social
meaning is produced, reproduced, altered and challenged.
3. It is understandable, given the background of Cultural Studies’
emancipation from orthodox versions of Marxist determinism, that
exactly the contingent nature of cultural identities was emphasised
by one of the main proponents of British Cultural Studies.
4. There is nothing particularly post-structuralist to this insight (which
is one of the reasons why it is preferable to use the broader qualifier
post-foundational). Already in Antonio Gramsci’s initial formulation
of hegemony theory, Gramsci is aware of this fact – without being
a post-structuralist, obviously. When he speaks about hegemony as
the construction of what he calls a ‘political will’ or ‘common or
collective will’, Gramsci does not take this political will – which is
absolutely indispensable for any hegemonic project – to be the source
of a hegemonic effort; rather, the political will is precisely what has
to be constructed, it is the desired outcome of the articulation of a
hegemonic project.
5. Despite Cultural Studies’ self-understanding as a political project
and despite an eminently political research focus on culture, Cultural
Studies has not yet managed to develop a fully convincing theory of
political protest. In fact, apart from a handful of studies (compare
Hall 1988; Hall et al. 1978; Grossberg 1992) which have assumed
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232
Chapter 6
233
Chapter 7
1. I went so far as proposing that all social being, to the extent to which
it is constantly grounded and ungrounded by an outside instance of
radical negativity, is nothing other than the political in a different
mode, i.e. in the aggregate state of social sedimentation.
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235
And the longer the chain of equivalences, the more we move from
the conceptual order to the nominal order. See also Laclau’s own
engagement with the mystical tradition in his article ‘On the Names
of God’ (RFS 37–51; see also RFS 26–30).
7. A perhaps surprising consequence of this political theory of nam-
ing could be that, in the strict sense, a personal name might not be
regarded as a name from the perspective of political ontology. There
are exceptional cases, though, when, as in revolutionary times, chil-
dren are given the names of heroes of the revolution. In cases like
these, the name is inscribed into a revolutionary chain of equiva-
lence against the Ancien Régime and therefore functions to signify
unity against an outside threat. In most cases, however, personal
names belong to the sedimented realm of differences, where they
are indeed semantically overdetermined (they are associated with a
particular culture, region, language, gender or social class), i.e. they
do signify, but their originally political meaning is largely forgotten
and becomes only reactivated in moments of conflict, ethnic war for
instance, when personal names are experienced as markers of group
affiliation.
8. Admittedly, a name of this scope will go beyond the horizon of
most rival political ontologies and will be difficult to accommo-
date within the conceptual order of a scientific discipline. It may
even sound, from the strictly ‘scientific’ perspective, like utter
nonsense – which should not surprise us, given that emptying
a signifier of its signifieds can only result in nonsense. Meaning
production is interrupted. What we are looking for, however,
is a form of regulated ‘nonsense’ that results from a reflective
intervention into the conceptual field, whereby a certain degree
of conceptual content is retained, as will be explained presently.
While antagonism is an empty signifier to some degree, it is also
a concept to some degree.
9. It goes without saying that Laclau, of course, does not abandon the
conceptual order of theory. The point of the matter is that, apart
from his theoretical work, which to a significant degree – simply
by being theoretical – remains within the conceptual order, Laclau’s
theory of naming, when applied to his own theoretical intervention,
allows us to exactly determine the moment of antagonism (of equiv-
alence) in his own work. It consists in the reflective intervention of
moving populism to the centre of political theory. Laclau is, first and
foremost, the thinker of populism.
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237
Chapter 8
238
2. Schürmann points out that such a reversal goes against the grain of
the metaphysical tradition of Western foundationalism and, there-
fore, is ‘more than a simple inversion of the relationship between
being and acting; it is the subversion of that classical relation, its
overturn (vertere) from the base (sub-)’ (Schürmann 1990: 7).
3. It should be noted that Schürmann is not alone in pointing out the
practical nature of being. A ‘praxeological’ turn has always been
an option in the tradition of left Heideggerianism and was promi-
nently defended, for instance, by philosophers associated with the
Yugoslavian Praxis Group, most prominently by Gajo Petrović.
4. A certain aloofness characteristic of Heidegger’s notion of ‘being’
thereby reflects in his notions of acting and thinking.
5. This is the reason why I have insisted on the notion of ‘differentialised
negativity’ rather than simply equating negativity with theoretical
tropes of difference as is the tendency in Diana Coole’s otherwise
impressive study on ‘Negativity and Politics’ (Coole 2000).
6. To the banal juxtaposition of materialism and idealism, i.e. to
a ‘struggle’ of two trends allegedly present throughout the his-
tory of philosophy, one must object that neither is materialism
per se progressive, nor is idealism per se bourgeois in the sense of
‘reactionary’. Their political spin depends on their given hege-
monic articulation with political positions outside of the field of
philosophy (which are also, of course, represented within the field
of philosophy).
7. Political action, in other words, is a deeply metaphysical enterprise
based on the foundationalist working assumption that the social can
be provided with a stable ground by a political subject – for other-
wise there would be no action to start with. Only democratic politics
may at the same time encourage us to accept the ultimately ground-
less nature of the social.
8. To specify: I negate because (a) my being is negated, and (b) my
pre-political requests emerging from that dislocation remain
frustrated.
9. Here we can see the difference with regard to a strategy of popu-
list mobilisation. In the latter case, ‘the power bloc’ may also be
portrayed as a homogeneous entity, yet in many cases it will have
a determinable content such as the governing party, the ruling elite,
etc. The moment when populists start portraying the power bloc in
terms of an all-powerful entity, their discourse moves from the polit-
ical terrain to the phantasmatic (to conspiracy theories, for instance,
such as a world-wide Jewish network).
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Conclusion
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