The Undercommons: Fugitive Planning & Black Study
The Undercommons: Fugitive Planning & Black Study
The Undercommons: Fugitive Planning & Black Study
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CONTENTS
0.
1.
Politics Surrounded
14
2.
22
3.
44
4.
58
5.
70
6.
84
7.
100
8.
References
160
Moten links economic debt to the brokenness of being in the interview with Stevphen Shukaitis; he acknowledges that some debts
should be paid, and that much is owed especially to black people by
white people, and yet, he says: I also know that what it is that is
supposed to be repaired is irreparable. It cant be repaired. The only
thing we can do is tear this shit down completely and build something new. The undercommons do not come to pay their debts, to
repair what has been broken, to fix what has come undone.
If you want to know what the undercommons wants, what Moten
and Harney want, what black people, indigenous peoples, queers and
poor people want, what we (the we who cohabit in the space of the
undercommons) want, it is this we cannot be satisfied with the recognition and acknowledgement generated by the very system that
denies a) that anything was ever broken and b) that we deserved to
be the broken part; so we refuse to ask for recognition and instead we
want to take apart, dismantle, tear down the structure that, right now,
limits our ability to find each other, to see beyond it and to access the
places that we know lie outside its walls. We cannot say what new
structures will replace the ones we live with yet, because once we have
torn shit down, we will inevitably see more and see differently and
feel a new sense of wanting and being and becoming. What we want
after the break will be different from what we think we want before
the break and both are necessarily different from the desire that issues
from being in the break.
Lets come at this by another path. In the melancholic and visionary 2009 film version of Maurice Sandaks Where The Wild Things Are
(1963), Max, the small seeker who leaves his room, his home, his
family to find the wild beyond, finds a world of lost and lonely beasts
and they promptly make him their king. Max is the first king the wild
things have had whom they did not eat and who did not, in turn, try
to eat them; and the beasts are the first grown things that Max has
met who want his opinion, his judgment, his rule. Maxs power is that
he is small while they are big; he promises the beasts that he has no
plans to eat them and this is more than anyone has ever promised
them. He promises that he will find ways through and around and
6
T HE U N D E R C O MM ONS
will slip through cracks and re-crack the cracks if they fill up. He
promises to keep sadness at bay and to make a world with the wild
creatures that roared their terrible roars and gnashed their terrible
teeth and rolled their terrible eyes and showed their terrible claws.
That Max fails to make the wild things happy or to save them or to
make a world with them is less important than the fact that he found
them and he recognized in them the end of something and potentially the path to an alternative to his world. The wild things were
not the utopian creatures of fairy tales, they were the rejected and
lost subjects of the world Max had left behind and, because he shuttles between the Oedipal land where his mother rules and the ruined
world of the wild, he knows the parameters of the real he sees what
is included and what is left out and he is now able to set sail for another place, a place that is neither the home he left nor the home to
which he wants to return.
Moten and Harney want to gesture to another place, a wild place that
is not simply the left over space that limns real and regulated zones
of polite society; rather, it is a wild place that continuously produces
its own unregulated wildness. The zone we enter through Moten and
Harney is ongoing and exists in the present and, as Harney puts it,
some kind of demand was already being enacted, fulfilled in the call
itself. While describing the London Riots of 2011, Harney suggests
that the riots and insurrections do not separate out the request, the
demand and the call rather, they enact the one in the other: I think
the call, in the way I would understand it, the call, as in the call and
response, the response is already there before the call goes out. Youre
already in something. You are already in it. For Moten too, you are
always already in the thing that you call for and that calls you. Whats
more, the call is always a call to dis-order and this disorder or wildness shows up in many places: in jazz, in improvisation, in noise. The
disordered sounds that we refer to as cacophony will always be cast
as extra-musical, as Moten puts it, precisely because we hear something in them that reminds us that our desire for harmony is arbitrary
and in another world, harmony would sound incomprehensible. Listening to cacophony and noise tells us that there is a wild beyond to
the structures we inhabit and that inhabit us.
THE W I L D BEYOND
And when we are called to this other place, the wild beyond, beyond
the beyond in Moten and Harneys apt terminology, we have to give
ourselves over to a certain kind of craziness. Moten reminds us that
even as Fanon took an anti-colonial stance, he knew that it looks crazy but, Fanon, as a psychiatrist, also knew not to accept this organic
division between the rational and the crazy and he knew that it would
be crazy for him not to take that stance in a world that had assigned
to him the role of the unreal, the primitive and the wild. Fanon, according to Moten, wants not the end of colonialism but the end of
the standpoint from which colonialism makes sense. In order to bring
colonialism to an end then, one does not speak truth to power, one
has to inhabit the crazy, nonsensical, ranting language of the other,
the other who has been rendered a nonentity by colonialism. Indeed,
blackness, for Moten and Harney by way of Fanon, is the willingness
to be in the space that has been abandoned by colonialism, by rule,
by order. Moten takes us there, saying of Fanon finally: Eventually,
I believe, he comes to believe in the world, which is to say the other
world, where we inhabit and maybe even cultivate this absence, this
place which shows up here and now, in the sovereigns space and time,
as absence, darkness, death, things which are not (as John Donne
would say).
The path to the wild beyond is paved with refusal. In The Undercommons if we begin anywhere, we begin with the right to refuse what has
been refused to you. Citing Gayatri Spivak, Moten and Harney call
this refusal the first right and it is a game-changing kind of refusal
in that it signals the refusal of the choices as offered. We can understand this refusal in terms that Chandan Reddy lays out in Freedom
With Violence (2011) for Reddy, gay marriage is the option that cannot be opposed in the ballot box. While we can circulate multiple critiques of gay marriage in terms of its institutionalization of intimacy,
when you arrive at the ballot box, pen in hand, you only get to check
yes or no and the no, in this case, could be more damning than the
yes. And so, you must refuse the choice as offered.
Moten and Harney also study what it would mean to refuse what
they term the call to order. And what would it mean, furthermore,
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T HE U N D E R C O MM ONS
to refuse to call others to order, to refuse interpellation and the reinstantiation of the law. When we refuse, Moten and Harney suggest,
we create dissonance and more importantly, we allow dissonance to
continue when we enter a classroom and we refuse to call it to order,
we are allowing study to continue, dissonant study perhaps, disorganized study, but study that precedes our call and will continue after we
have left the room. Or, when we listen to music, we must refuse the
idea that music happens only when the musician enters and picks up
an instrument; music is also the anticipation of the performance and
the noises of appreciation it generates and the speaking that happens
through and around it, making it and loving it, being in it while listening. And so, when we refuse the call to order the teacher picking up the book, the conductor raising his baton, the speaker asking
for silence, the torturer tightening the noose we refuse order as the
distinction between noise and music, chatter and knowledge, pain
and truth.
These kinds of examples get to the heart of Moten and Harneys
world of the undercommons the undercommons is not a realm
where we rebel and we create critique; it is not a place where we take
arms against a sea of troubles/and by opposing end them. The undercommons is a space and time which is always here. Our goal and
the we is always the right mode of address here is not to end the
troubles but to end the world that created those particular troubles as
the ones that must be opposed. Moten and Harney refuse the logic
that stages refusal as inactivity, as the absence of a plan and as a mode
of stalling real politics. Moten and Harney tell us to listen to the noise
we make and to refuse the offers we receive to shape that noise into
music.
In the essay that many people already know best from this volume,
The University and the Undercommons, Moten and Harney come
closest to explaining their mission. Refusing to be for or against the
university and in fact marking the critical academic as the player who
holds the for and against logic in place, Moten and Harney lead us
to the Undercommons of the Enlightenment where subversive intellectuals engage both the university and fugitivity: where the work
THE W I L D BEYOND
gets done, where the work gets subverted, where the revolution is still
black, still strong. The subversive intellectual, we learn, is unprofessional, uncollegial, passionate and disloyal. The subversive intellectual
is neither trying to extend the university nor change the university,
the subversive intellectual is not toiling in misery and from this place
of misery articulating a general antagonism. In fact, the subversive
intellectual enjoys the ride and wants it to be faster and wilder; she
does not want a room of his or her own, she wants to be in the world,
in the world with others and making the world anew. Moten insists:
Like Deleuze. I believe in the world and want to be in it. I want to
be in it all the way to the end of it because I believe in another world
in the world and I want to be in that. And I plan to stay a believer,
like Curtis Mayfield. But thats beyond me, and even beyond me and
Stefano, and out into the world, the other thing, the other world, the
joyful noise of the scattered, scatted eschaton, the undercommon refusal of the academy of misery.
The mission then for the denizens of the undercommons is to recognize that when you seek to make things better, you are not just doing
it for the Other, you must also be doing it for yourself. While men
may think they are being sensitive by turning to feminism, while
white people may think they are being right on by opposing racism,
no one will really be able to embrace the mission of tearing this shit
down until they realize that the structures they oppose are not only
bad for some of us, they are bad for all of us. Gender hierarchies are
bad for men as well as women and they are really bad for the rest of us.
Racial hierarchies are not rational and ordered, they are chaotic and
nonsensical and must be opposed by precisely all those who benefit
in any way from them. Or, as Moten puts it: The coalition emerges
out of your recognition that its fucked up for you, in the same way
that weve already recognized that its fucked up for us. I dont need
your help. I just need you to recognize that this shit is killing you, too,
however much more softly, you stupid motherfucker, you know?
The coalition unites us in the recognition that we must change things
or die. All of us. We must all change the things that are fucked up and
change cannot come in the form that we think of as revolutionary
10
T HE U N D E R C O MM ONS
11
REFERENCES
Maurice Sendak, Where the Wild Things Are (NY: Harper Collins, 1988).
12
T HE U N D E R C O MM ONS
POLITICS SURROUNDED
In Michael Parentis classic anti-imperial analysis of Hollywood movies, he points to the upside down way that the make-believe media
portrays colonial settlement. In films like Drums Along the Mohawk
(1939) or Shaka Zulu (1987), the settler is portrayed as surrounded by
natives, inverting, in Parentis view, the role of aggressor so that colonialism is made to look like self-defense. Indeed, aggression and selfdefense are reversed in these movies, but the image of a surrounded
fort is not false. Instead, the false image is what emerges when a critique of militarised life is predicated on the forgetting of the life that
surrounds it. The fort really was surrounded, is besieged by what still
surrounds it, the common beyond and beneath before and before
enclosure. The surround antagonises the laager in its midst while disturbing that facts on the ground with some outlaw planning.
Our task is the self-defense of the surround in the face of repeated,
targeted dispossessions through the settlers armed incursion. And
while acquisitive violence occasions this self-defense, it is recourse to
self-possession in the face of dispossession (recourse, in other words,
to politics) that represents the real danger. Politics is an ongoing attack on the common the general and generative antagonism from
within the surround.
Consider the Black Panther Party for Self-Defense, first theorists
of the revolution of the surround, the black before and before, the
P OLIT IC S S URROU ND ED
17
already and the forthcoming. Their twinned commitment to revolution and self-defense emerged from the recognition that the preservation of black social life is articulated in and with the violence of
innovation. This is not a contradiction if the new thing, always calling
for itself, already lives around and below the forts, the police stations,
the patrolled highways and the prison towers. The Panthers theorized
revolution without politics, which is to say revolution with neither a
subject nor a principle of decision. Against the law because they were
generating law, they practiced an ongoing planning to be possessed,
hopelessly and optimistically and incessantly indebted, given to unfinished, contrapuntal study of, and in, the common wealth, poverty
and the blackness of the surround.
The self-defense of revolution is confronted not only by the brutalities but also by the false image of enclosure. The hard materiality of
the unreal convinces us that we are surrounded, that we must take
possession of ourselves, correct ourselves, remain in the emergency,
on a permanent footing, settled, determined, protecting nothing but
an illusory right to what we do not have, which the settler takes for
and as the commons. But in the moment of right/s the commons is
already gone in the movement to and of the common that surrounds
it and its enclosure. Whats left is politics but even the politics of the
commons, of the resistance to enclosure, can only be a politics of ends,
a rectitude aimed at the regulatory end of the common. And even
when the election that was won turns out to have been lost, and the
bomb detonates and/or fails to detonate, the common perseveres as
if a kind of elsewhere, here, around, on the ground, surrounding hallucinogenic facts. Meanwhile, politics soldiers on, claiming to defend
what it has not enclosed, enclosing what it cannot defend but only
endanger.
The settler, having settled for politics, arms himself in the name of
civilisation while critique initiates the self-defense of those of us who
see hostility in the civil union of settlement and enclosure. We say,
rightly, if our critical eyes are sharp enough, that its evil and uncool to
have a place in the sun in the dirty thinness of this atmosphere; that
house the sheriff was building is in the heart of a fallout zone. And if
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T HE U N D E R C O MM ONS
our eyes carry sharpness farther out we trail the police so we can put
them on trial. Having looked for politics in order to avoid it, we move
next to each other, so we can be beside ourselves, because we like the
nightlife which aint no good life. Critique lets us know that politics is
radioactive, but politics is the radiation of critique. So it matters how
long we have to do it, how long we have to be exposed to the lethal
effects of its anti-social energy. Critique endangers the sociality it is
supposed to defend, not because it might turn inward to damage politics but because it would turn to politics and then turn outward, from
the fort to the surround, were it not for preservation, which is given in
celebration of what we defend, the sociopoetic force we wrap tightly
round us, since we are poor. Taking down our critique, our own positions, our fortifications, is self-defense alloyed with self-preservation.
That takedown comes in movement, as a shawl, the armor of flight.
We run looking for a weapon and keep running looking to drop it.
And we can drop it, because however armed, however hard, the enemy we face is also illusory.
Uncut devotion to the critique of this illusion makes us delusional.
In the trick of politics we are insufficient, scarce, waiting in pockets
of resistance, in stairwells, in alleys, in vain. The false image and its
critique threaten the common with democracy, which is only ever
to come, so that one day, which is only never to come, we will be
more than what we are. But we already are. Were already here, moving. Weve been around. Were more than politics, more than settled,
more than democratic. We surround democracys false image in order to unsettle it. Every time it tries to enclose us in a decision, were
undecided. Every time it tries to represent our will, were unwilling.
Every time it tries to take root, were gone (because were already here,
moving). We ask and we tell and we cast the spell that we are under,
which tells us what to do and how we shall be moved, here, where we
dance the war of apposition. Were in a trance thats under and around
us. We move through it and it moves with us, out beyond the settlements, out beyond the redevelopment, where black night is falling,
where we hate to be alone, back inside to sleep till morning, drink till
morning, plan till morning, as the common embrace, right inside, and
around, in the surround.
P OLIT IC S S URROU ND ED
19
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T HE U N D E R C O MM ONS
25
To the university Ill steal, and there Ill steal, to borrow from Pistol at the end of Henry V, as he would surely borrow from us. This is
the only possible relationship to the American university today. This
may be true of universities everywhere. It may have to be true of the
university in general. But certainly, this much is true in the United
States: it cannot be denied that the university is a place of refuge, and
it cannot be accepted that the university is a place of enlightenment.
In the face of these conditions one can only sneak into the university
and steal what one can. To abuse its hospitality, to spite its mission,
to join its refugee colony, its gypsy encampment, to be in but not of
this is the path of the subversive intellectual in the modern university.
Worry about the university. This is the injunction today in the United
States, one with a long history. Call for its restoration like Harold
Bloom or Stanley Fish or Gerald Graff. Call for its reform like Derek
Bok or Bill Readings or Cary Nelson. Call out to it as it calls to you.
But for the subversive intellectual, all of this goes on upstairs, in polite
company, among the rational men. After all, the subversive intellectual came under false pretenses, with bad documents, out of love. Her
labor is as necessary as it is unwelcome. The university needs what
she bears but cannot bear what she brings. And on top of all that, she
disappears. She disappears into the underground, the downlow lowdown maroon community of the university, into the undercommons of
enlightenment, where the work gets done, where the work gets subverted, where the revolution is still black, still strong.
What is that work and what is its social capacity for both reproducing the university and producing fugitivity? If one were to say teaching, one would be performing the work of the university. Teaching is
merely a profession and an operation of that onto-/auto-encyclopedic
circle of the state that Jacques Derrida calls the Universitas. But it is
useful to invoke this operation to glimpse the hole in the fence where
labor enters, to glimpse its hiring hall, its night quarters. The university needs teaching labor, despite itself, or as itself, self-identical with
26
T HE U N D E R C O MM ONS
and thereby erased by it. It is not teaching that holds this social capacity, but something that produces the not visible other side of teaching,
a thinking through the skin of teaching toward a collective orientation to the knowledge object as future project, and a commitment to
what we want to call the prophetic organization. But it is teaching
that brings us in. Before there are grants, research, conferences, books,
and journals there is the experience of being taught and of teaching.
Before the research post with no teaching, before the graduate students to mark the exams, before the string of sabbaticals, before the
permanent reduction in teaching load, the appointment to run the
Center, the consignment of pedagogy to a discipline called education,
before the course designed to be a new book, teaching happened.
The moment of teaching for food is therefore often mistakenly taken
to be a stage, as if eventually one should not teach for food. If the stage
persists, there is a social pathology in the university. But if the teaching is successfully passed on, the stage is surpassed, and teaching is
consigned to those who are known to remain in the stage, the sociopathological labor of the university. Kant interestingly calls such a stage
self-incurred minority. He tries to contrast it with having the determination and courage to use ones intelligence without being guided
by another. Have the courage to use your own intelligence. But what
would it mean if teaching or rather what we might call the beyond
of teaching is precisely what one is asked to get beyond, to stop taking sustenance? And what of those minorities who refuse, the tribe of
moles who will not come back from beyond (that which is beyond the
beyond of teaching), as if they will not be subjects, as if they want to
think as objects, as minority? Certainly, the perfect subjects of communication, those successfully beyond teaching, will see them as waste.
But their collective labor will always call into question who truly is taking the orders of the enlightenment. The waste lives for those moments
beyond teaching when you give away the unexpected beautiful phrase
unexpected, no one has asked, beautiful, it will never come back. Is
being the biopower of the enlightenment truly better than this?
Perhaps the biopower of the enlightenment knows this, or perhaps it
is just reacting to the objecthood of this labor as it must. But even as
THE UNI V ER SI TY A ND THE UN DERC OMM ONS
27
it depends on these moles, these refugees, it will call them uncollegial, impractical, naive, unprofessional. And one may be given one last
chance to be pragmatic why steal when one can have it all, they will
ask. But if one hides from this interpellation, neither agrees nor disagrees but goes with hands full into the underground of the university,
into the Undercommons this will be regarded as theft, as a criminal
act. And it is at the same time, the only possible act.
In that undercommons of the university one can see that it is not a
matter of teaching versus research or even the beyond of teaching versus the individualisation of research. To enter this space is to inhabit
the ruptural and enraptured disclosure of the commons that fugitive
enlightenment enacts, the criminal, matricidal, queer, in the cistern,
on the stroll of the stolen life, the life stolen by enlightenment and
stolen back, where the commons give refuge, where the refuge gives
commons. What the beyond of teaching is really about is not finishing
oneself, not passing, not completing; its about allowing subjectivity to
be unlawfully overcome by others, a radical passion and passivity such
that one becomes unfit for subjection, because one does not possess the
kind of agency that can hold the regulatory forces of subjecthood, and
one cannot initiate the auto-interpellative torque that biopower subjection requires and rewards. It is not so much the teaching as it is the
prophecy in the organization of the act of teaching. The prophecy that
predicts its own organization and has therefore passed, as commons,
and the prophecy that exceeds its own organization and therefore as
yet can only be organized. Against the prophetic organization of the
undercommons is arrayed its own deadening labor for the university,
and beyond that, the negligence of professionalization, and the professionalization of the critical academic. The undercommons is therefore
always an unsafe neighborhood.
As Fredric Jameson reminds us, the university depends upon Enlightenment-type critiques and demystification of belief and committed ideology, in order to clear the ground for unobstructed planning
and development. This is the weakness of the university, the lapse in
its homeland security. It needs labor power for this enlightenmenttype critique, but, somehow, labor always escapes.
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T HE U N D E R C O MM ONS
29
But surely if one can write something on the surface of the university, if one can write for instance in the university about singularities
those events that refuse either the abstract or individual category of
the bourgeois subject one cannot say that there is no space in the
university itself ? Surely there is some space here for a theory, a conference, a book, a school of thought? Surely the university also makes
thought possible? Is not the purpose of the university as Universitas,
as liberal arts, to make the commons, make the public, make the nation of democratic citizenry? Is it not therefore important to protect
this Universitas, whatever its impurities, from professionalization in
the university? But we would ask what is already not possible in this
talk in the hallways, among the buildings, in rooms of the university
about possibility? How is the thought of the outside, as Gayatri Spivak means it, already not possible in this complaint?
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T HE U N D E R C O MM ONS
The maroons know something about possibility. They are the condition of possibility of the production of knowledge in the university
the singularities against the writers of singularity, the writers who
write, publish, travel, and speak. It is not merely a matter of the secret
labor upon which such space is lifted, though of course such space is
lifted from collective labor and by it. It is rather that to be a critical
academic in the university is to be against the university, and to be
against the university is always to recognize it and be recognized by
it, and to institute the negligence of that internal outside, that unassimilated underground, a negligence of it that is precisely, we must
insist, the basis of the professions. And this act of being against always already excludes the unrecognized modes of politics, the beyond
of politics already in motion, the discredited criminal para-organization, what Robin Kelley might refer to as the infrapolitical field (and
its music). It is not just the labor of the maroons but their prophetic
organization that is negated by the idea of intellectual space in an
organization called the university. This is why the negligence of the
critical academic is always at the same time an assertion of bourgeois
individualism.
Such negligence is the essence of professionalization where it turns
out professionalization is not the opposite of negligence but its
mode of politics in the United States. It takes the form of a choice
that excludes the prophetic organization of the undercommons to
be against, to put into question the knowledge object, let us say in
this case the university, not so much without touching its foundation, as without touching ones own condition of possibility, without admitting the Undercommons and being admitted to it. From
this, a general negligence of condition is the only coherent position.
Not so much an antifoundationalism or foundationalism, as both
are used against each other to avoid contact with the undercommons. This always-negligent act is what leads us to say there is no
distinction between the university in the United States and professionalization. There is no point in trying to hold out the university
against its professionalization. They are the same. Yet the maroons
refuse to refuse professionalization, that is, to be against the university. The university will not recognize this indecision, and thus
THE UNI V ER SI TY A ND THE UN DERC OMM ONS
31
professionalization is shaped precisely by what it cannot acknowledge, its internal antagonism, its wayward labor, its surplus. Against
this wayward labor it sends the critical, sends its claim that what is
left beyond the critical is waste.
But in fact, critical education only attempts to perfect professional
education. The professions constitute themselves in an opposition to
the unregulated and the ignorant without acknowledging the unregulated, ignorant, unprofessional labor that goes on not opposite them
but within them. But if professional education ever slips in its labor,
ever reveals its condition of possibility to the professions it supports
and reconstitutes, critical education is there to pick it up, and to tell it,
never mind it was just a bad dream, the ravings, the drawings of the
mad. Because critical education is precisely there to tell professional
education to rethink its relationship to its opposite by which critical education means both itself and the unregulated, against which
professional education is deployed. In other words, critical education
arrives to support any faltering negligence, to be vigilant in its negligence, to be critically engaged in its negligence. It is more than an ally
of professional education, it is its attempted completion.
A professional education has become a critical education. But one
should not applaud this fact. It should be taken for what it is, not progress in the professional schools, not cohabitation with the Universitas, but counterinsurgency, the refounding terrorism of law, coming
for the discredited, coming for those who refuse to write off or write
up the undercommons.
The Universitas is always a state/State strategy. Perhaps its surprising to say professionalization that which reproduces the professions
is a state strategy. Certainly, critical academic professionals tend to
be regarded today as harmless intellectuals, malleable, perhaps capable of some modest intervention in the so-called public sphere. But
to see how this underestimates the presence of the state we can turn
to a bad reading of Derridas consideration of Hegels 1822 report to
the Prussian Minister of Education. Derrida notices the way that Hegel rivals the state in his ambition for education, wanting to put into
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T HE U N D E R C O MM ONS
place a progressive pedagogy of philosophy designed to support Hegels worldview, to unfold as encyclopedic. This ambition both mirrors
the states ambition, because it, too, wants to control education and to
impose a worldview, and threatens it, because Hegels State exceeds
and thus localises the Prussian state, exposing its pretense to the encyclopedic. Derrida draws the following lesson from his reading: the
Universitas, as he generalizes the university (but specifies it, too, as
properly intellectual and not professional), always has the impulse of
State, or enlightenment, and the impulse of state, or its specific conditions of production and reproduction. Both have the ambition to
be, as Derrida says, onto- and auto-encyclopedic. It follows that to
be either for the Universitas or against it presents problems. To be
for the Universitas is to support this onto- and auto-encyclopedic
project of the State as enlightenment, or enlightenment as totality, to
use an old-fashioned word. To be too much against the Universitas,
however, creates the danger of specific elements in the state taking
steps to rid itself of the contradiction of the onto- and auto-encyclopedic project of the Universitas and replacing it with some other
form of social reproduction, the anti-enlightenment the position,
for instance, of New Labour in Britain and of the states of New York
and California with their teaching institutions. But a bad reading
of Derrida will also yield our question again: what is lost in this undecidability? What is the price of refusing to be either for the Universitas or for professionalization, to be critical of both, and who pays
that price? Who makes it possible to reach the aporia of this reading?
Who works in the premature excess of totality, in the not not-ready
of negligence?
The mode of professionalization that is the American university is
precisely dedicated to promoting this consensual choice: an antifoundational critique of the University or a foundational critique of the
university. Taken as choices, or hedged as bets, one tempered with
the other, they are nonetheless always negligent. Professionalization
is built on this choice. It rolls out into ethics and efficiency, responsibility and science, and numerous other choices, all built upon the
theft, the conquest, the negligence of the outcast mass intellectuality
of the undercommons.
THE UNI V ER SI TY A ND THE UN DERC OMM ONS
33
T HE U N D E R C O MM ONS
Let us, as an example, act disloyally to the field of public administration and especially in masters of public administration programs,
including related programs in public health, environmental management, nonprofit and arts management, and the large menu of human
services courses, certificates, diplomas, and degrees that underpin this
disciplinary cluster. It is difficult not to sense that these programs exist against themselves, that they despise themselves. (Although later
one can see that as with all professionalization, it is the underlying
negligence that unsettles the surface of labor power.) The average lecture, in the Robert F. Wagner Graduate School of Public Service at
NYU for instance, may be more antistatist, more skeptical of government, more modest in its social policy goals than the average lecture
in the avowedly neoclassical economics or new right political science
departments at that same university. It would not be much different
at Syracuse University, or a dozen other prominent public administration schools. One might say that skepticism is an important part
of higher education, but this particular skepticism is not founded on
close study of the object in question. In fact, there is no state theory in public administration programs in the United States. Instead,
the state is regarded as the proverbial devil we know. And whether
it is understood in public administration as a necessary evil, or as a
good that is nonetheless of limited usefulness and availability, it is always entirely knowable as an object. Therefore it is not so much that
these programs are set against themselves. It is rather that they are
set against some students, and particularly those who come to public
administration with a sense of what Derrida has called a duty beyond
duty, or a passion.
To be skeptical of what one already knows is of course an absurd position. If one is skeptical of an object then one is already in the position of not knowing that object, and if one claims to know the object,
one cannot also claim to be skeptical of that object, which amounts to
being skeptical of ones own claim. But this is the position of professionalization, and it is this position that confronts that student, however rare, who comes to public administration with a passion. Any
attempt at passion, at stepping out of this skepticism of the known
into an inadequate confrontation with what exceeds it and oneself,
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35
T HE U N D E R C O MM ONS
37
T HE U N D E R C O MM ONS
39
If one were to insist, the opposite of professionalization is that fugitive impulse to rely on the undercommons for protection, to rely on
the honor, and to insist on the honor of the fugitive community; if
one were to insist, the opposite of professionalization is that criminal
impulse to steal from professions, from the university, with neither
apologies nor malice, to steal the enlightenment for others, to steal
oneself with a certain blue music, a certain tragic optimism, to steal
away with mass intellectuality; if one were to do this, would this not
be to place criminality and negligence against each other? Would it
not place professionalization, would it not place the university, against
honor? And what then could be said for criminality?
Perhaps then it needs to be said that the crack dealer, terrorist, and
political prisoner share a commitment to war, and society responds
in kind with wars on crime, terror, drugs, communism. But this war
on the commitment to war crusades as a war against the asocial, that
is, those who live without a concern for sociality. Yet it cannot be
such a thing. After all, it is professionalization itself that is devoted
to the asocial, the university itself that reproduces the knowledge of
how to neglect sociality in its very concern for what it calls asociality.
No, this war against the commitment to war responds to this commitment to war as the threat that it is not mere negligence or careless destruction but a commitment against the idea of society itself,
that is, against what Foucault called the conquest, the unspoken war
that founded, and with the force of law, refounds society. Not asocial
but against the social, this is the commitment to war, and this is what
disturbs and at the same time forms the undercommons against the
university.
Is this not the way to understand incarceration in the United States
today? And understanding it, can we not say that it is precisely the
fear that the criminal will rise to challenge the negligence that leads
to the need, in the context of the American state and its particularly
violent Universitas circle, to concentrate always on conquest denial?
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T HE U N D E R C O MM ONS
Here one comes face to face with the roots of professional and critical commitment to negligence, to the depths of the impulse to deny
the thought of the internal outside among critical intellectuals, and
the necessity for professionals to question without question. Whatever else they do, critical intellectuals who have found space in the
university are always already performing the denial of the new society
when they deny the undercommons, when they find that space on the
surface of the university, and when they join the conquest denial by
improving that space. Before they criticise the aesthetic and the Aesthetic, the state and the State, history and History, they have already
practiced the operation of denying what makes these categories possible in the underlabor of their social being as critical academics.
The slogan on the Left, then, universities, not jails, marks a choice
that may not be possible. In other words, perhaps more universities
promote more jails. Perhaps it is necessary finally to see that the university produces incarceration as the product of its negligence. Perhaps
there is another relation between the University and the Prison beyond simple opposition or family resemblance that the undercommons reserves as the object and inhabitation of another abolitionism.
What might appear as the professionalization of the American university, our starting point, now might better be understood as a certain intensification of method in the Universitas, a tightening of the
circle. Professionalization cannot take over the American university
it is the critical approach of the university, its Universitas. And indeed, it appears now that this state with its peculiar violent hegemony
must deny what Foucault called in his 1975-76 lectures the race war.
War on the commitment to war breaks open the memory of the conquest. The new American studies should do this, too, if it is to be not
just a peoples history of the same country but a movement against the
possibility of a country, or any other; not just property justly distributed on the border but property unknown. And there are other spaces
situated between the Universitas and the undercommons, spaces that
THE UNI V ER SI TY A ND THE UN DERC OMM ONS
41
are characterized precisely by not having space. Thus the fire aimed
at black studies by everyone from William Bennett to Henry Louis
Gates Jr., and the proliferation of Centers without affiliation to the
memory of the conquest, to its living guardianship, to the protection
of its honor, to the nights of labor, in the undercommons.
The university, then, is not the opposite of the prison, since they are
both involved in their way with the reduction and command of the
social individual. And indeed, under the circumstances, more universities and fewer prisons would, it has to be concluded, mean the
memory of the war was being further lost, and living unconquered,
conquered labor abandoned to its lowdown fate. Instead, the undercommons takes the prison as a secret about the conquest, but a secret,
as Sara Ahmed says, whose growing secrecy is its power, its ability to
keep a distance between it and its revelation, a secret that calls into
being the prophetic, a secret held in common, organized as secret,
calling into being the prophetic organization.
Ruth Wilson Gilmore: Racism is the state-sanctioned and/or extralegal production and exploitation of group differentiated vulnerabilities to premature (social, civil and/or corporeal) death. What is the
difference between this and slavery? What is, so to speak, the object
of abolition? Not so much the abolition of prisons but the abolition
of a society that could have prisons, that could have slavery, that could
have the wage, and therefore not abolition as the elimination of anything but abolition as the founding of a new society. The object of
abolition then would have a resemblance to communism that would
be, to return to Spivak, uncanny. The uncanny that disturbs the critical going on above it, the professional going on without it, the uncanny that one can sense in prophecy, the strangely known moment,
the gathering content, of a cadence, and the uncanny that one can
sense in cooperation, the secret once called solidarity. The uncanny
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T HE U N D E R C O MM ONS
feeling we are left with is that something else is there in the undercommons. It is the prophetic organization that works for the red and
black abolition!
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BLACKNESS AND
G OV E R N A N C E
1.
2.
47
derived, as all such axioms are, from the runaway tongues and eloquent vulgarities encrypted in works and days that turn out to be of
the native or the slave only insofar as the fugitive is misrecognized,
and in bare lives that turn out to be bare only insofar as no attention
is paid to them, only insofar as such lives persist under the sign and
weight of a closed question?
3.
The black aesthetic turns on a dialectic of luxuriant withholding abundance and lack push technique over the edge of refusal so
that the trouble with beauty, which is the very animation and emanation of art, is always and everywhere troubled again and again. New
technique, new beauty. At the same time, the black aesthetic is not
about technique, is not a technique, though a fundamental element
of the terror-driven anaesthetic disavowal of our terribleness is the
eclectic sampling of techniques of black performativity in the interest
of the unproblematically dispossessive assertion of an internal difference, complexity or syntax which was always and everywhere so apparent that the assertion is a kind of self-indulgent, self-exculpatory
superfluity. Such assertion amounts to an attempt to refute claims
of blacknesss atomic simplicity that have never been serious enough
to refute (as they were made unfalsifiably, without evidence, by way
of unreasonable though wholly rationalized motivations, in bad faith
and dogmatic slumber).
4.
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T HE U N D E R C O MM ONS
5.
6.
49
7.
But blackness still has work to do: to discover the re-routing encoded in the work of art: in the anachoreographic reset of a shoulder,
in the quiet extremities that animate a range of social chromaticisms
and, especially, in the mutations that drive mute, labored, musicked
speech as it moves between an incapacity for reasoned or meaningful
self-generated utterance that is, on the one hand, supposed and, on
the other hand, imposed, and a critical predisposition to steal (away).
In those mutations that are always also a regendering or transgendering (as in Al Greens errant falsetto or Big Maybelles bass which
is not but nothing other than basic growl), and in between that
impropriety of speech that approaches animality and a tendency towards expropriation that approaches criminality, lies blackness, lies
the black thing that cuts the regulative, governant force of (the) understanding (and even of those understandings of blackness to which
black people are given since fugitivity escapes even the fugitive).
8.
The work of blackness is inseparable from the violence of blackness. Violence is where technique and beauty come back, though they
had never left. Consider technique as a kind of strain and consider the
technique that is embedded in and cuts techniques the (Fanonian as
apposed to Artaudian) cruelty. The internal difference of blackness is
a violent and cruel re-routing, by way and outside of critique, that is
predicated on the notion, which was given to me, at least, by Martin
Luther Kilson, Jr., that theres nothing wrong with us (precisely insofar
as there is something wrong, something off, something ungovernably, fugitively living in us that is constantly taken for the pathogen it
instantiates). This notion is manifest primarily in the long, slow motion the series of tragically pleasurable detours of the immediate
(of improvisation, which is something not but almost nothing other
than the spontaneous), a re-routing that turns away from a turning
on or to itself. The apposition of Fanonian and Artaudian cruelty is
an itinerancy that bridges life and blackness. Movement towards and
against death and its specific and general prematurities and a willingness to break the law one calls into existence constitute their very
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T HE U N D E R C O MM ONS
relationality. But whats the relation between willingness and propensity? And whats the difference between flight and fatality? What are
the politics of being ready to die and what have they to do with the
scandal of enjoyment? What is premature death? What commerce
ensues between what Jacques Lacan identifies as mans specific prematurity of birth and what Hussein Abdilahi Bulhan identifies as the
specific (and irreducible threat of ) prematurity of death in blackness?
9.
51
10.
11.
T HE U N D E R C O MM ONS
12.
Governance is a strategy for the privatization of social reproductive labor, a strategy provoked by this communicability, infected
by it, hosting and hostile. As Toni Negri says the new face of productive labor (intellectual, relational, linguistic, and affective, rather than
physical, individual, muscular, instrumental) does not understate but
accentuates the corporality and materiality of labor. But accumulating
collective cognitive and affective labor from these highly communicable
BLAC K NES S AND GOVERNANC E
53
differences is not the same as accumulating biopolitical bodies that labor. Differences here matter not for order, but order matters for differences. The order that collects differences, the order that collects what
Marx called labor still objectifying itself, is the order of governance.
13.
14.
Governance operates through the apparent auto-generation of these interests. Unlike previous regimes of sovereignty, there is
no predetermined interest (no nation, no constitution, no language)
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T HE U N D E R C O MM ONS
15.
Governance then becomes the management of self-management. The generation of interests appears as wealth, plentitude, potential. It hides the waste of the raw immaterial and its reproduction in the
flurry of its conferences, consultations, and outreach. Indeed within the
firm, self-management is distinguished from obedience by the generation of new interests in quality, design, discipline, and communication.
But with the implosion of the time and space in the firm, with the dispersion and virtualisation of productivity, governance arrives to manage self-management, not from above, but from below. What comes up
then may not be value from below as Toni Negri calls it, but politics
from below, such that we have to be wary of the grassroots and suspicious of the community. When what emerges from below is interests,
when value from below becomes politics from below, self-management
has been realized, and governance has done its work.
16.
The Soviets used to say that the United States had free
speech but no one could hear you over the noise of the machines.
Today no one can hear you over the noise of talk. Maurizio Lazzarato says immaterial labor is loquacious and industrial labor was
mute. Governance populations are gregarious. Gregariousness is the
exchange form of immaterial labor-power, a labor-power summoned
by interests from a communicability without interest, a viral communicability, a beat.
The compulsion to tell us how you feel is the compulsion of labor, not
citizenship, exploitation not domination, and it is whiteness. Whiteness is why Lazzarato does not hear industrial labor. Whiteness is
nothing but a relationship to blackness as we have tried to describe
BLAC K NES S AND GOVERNANC E
55
17.
18.
T HE U N D E R C O MM ONS
19.
Because governance is the annunciation of universal exchange. The exchange through communication of all institutional
forms, all forms of exchange value with each other is the enunciation of governance. The hospital talks to the prison which talks to the
university which talks to the NGO which talks to the corporation
through governance, and not just to each other but about each other.
Everybody knows everything about our biopolitics. This is the perfection of democracy under the general equivalent. It is also the annunciation of governance as the realisation of universal exchange on the
grounds of capitalism.
20.
Governance and criminality the condition of being without interests come to make each other possible. What would it
mean to struggle against governance, against that which can produce
struggle by germinating interests? When governance is understood as
the criminalisation of being without interests, as a regulation brought
into being by criminality, where criminality is that excess left from
criminalisation, a certain fragility emerges, a certain limit, an uncertain imposition by a greater drive, the mere utterance of whose name
has again become too black, too strong altogether.
57
They say we have too much debt. We need better credit, more credit,
less spending. They offer us credit repair, credit counseling, microcredit, personal financial planning. They promise to match credit and
debt again, debt and credit. But our debts stay bad. We keep buying
another song, another round. It is not credit we seek nor even debt
but bad debt which is to say real debt, the debt that cannot be repaid,
the debt at a distance, the debt without creditor, the black debt, the
queer debt, the criminal debt. Excessive debt, incalculable debt, debt
for no reason, debt broken from credit, debt as its own principle.
Credit is a means of privatization and debt a means of socialisation.
So long as they pair in the monogamous violence of the home, the
pension, the government, or the university, debt can only feed credit,
debt can only desire credit. And credit can only expand by means of
debt. But debt is social and credit is asocial. Debt is mutual. Credit
runs only one way. But debt runs in every direction, scatters, escapes,
seeks refuge. The debtor seeks refuge among other debtors, acquires
debt from them, offers debt to them. The place of refuge is the place
to which you can only owe more and more because there is no creditor, no payment possible. This refuge, this place of bad debt, is what
we call the fugitive public. Running through the public and the private, the state and the economy, the fugitive public cannot be known
DEB T AND STU DY
61
by its bad debt but only by bad debtors. To creditors it is just a place
where something is wrong, though that something wrong the invaluable thing, the thing that has no value is desired. Creditors seek
to demolish that place, that project, in order to save the ones who live
there from themselves and their lives.
They research it, gather information on it, try to calculate it. They
want to save it. They want to break its concentration and put the fragments in the bank. But all of a sudden, the thing credit cannot know,
the fugitive thing for which it gets no credit, is inescapable.
Once you start to see bad debt, you start to see it everywhere, hear it
everywhere, feel it everywhere. This is the real crisis for credit, its real
crisis of accumulation. Now debt begins to accumulate without it.
Thats what makes it so bad. We saw it in a step yesterday, some hips,
a smile, the way a hand moved. We heard it in a break, a cut, a lilt, the
way the words leapt. We felt it in the way someone saves the best stuff
just to give it to you and then its gone, given, a debt. They dont want
nothing. You have got to accept it, you have got to accept that. Youre
in debt but you cant give credit because they wont hold it. Then the
phone rings. Its the creditors. Credit keeps track. Debt forgets. Youre
not home, youre not you, you moved without a forwarding address
called refuge.
The student is not home, out of time, out of place, without credit,
in bad debt. The student is a bad debtor threatened with credit. The
student runs from credit. Credit pursues the student, offering to
match credit for debt, until enough debts and enough credits have
piled up. But the student has a habit, a bad habit. She studies. She
studies but she does not learn. If she learned they could measure her
progress, establish her attributes, give her credit. But the student
keeps studying, keeps planning to study, keeps running to study,
keeps studying a plan, keeps elaborating a debt. The student does
not intend to pay.
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63
Fugitive publics do not need to be restored. They need to be conserved, which is to say moved, hidden, restarted with the same joke,
the same story, always elsewhere than where the long arm of the creditor seeks them, conserved from restoration, beyond justice, beyond
law, in bad country, in bad debt. They are planned when they are least
expected, planned when they dont follow the process, planned when
they escape policy, evade governance, forget themselves, remember themselves, have no need of being forgiven. They are not wrong
though they are not, finally communities; they are debtors at distance,
bad debtors, forgotten but never forgiven. Give credit where credit is
due, and render unto bad debtors only debt, only that mutuality that
tells you what you cant do. You cant pay me back, give me credit, get
free of me, and I cant let you go when youre gone. If you want to do
something, forget this debt, and remember it later.
Debt at a distance is forgotten, and remembered again. Think of autonomism, its debt at a distance to the black radical tradition. In
autonomia, in the militancy of post-workerism, there is no outside,
refusal takes place inside and makes its break, its flight, its exodus
from the inside. There is biopolitical production and there is empire.
There is even what Franco Bifo Berardi calls soul trouble. In other
words there is this debt at a distance to a global politics of blackness
emerging out of slavery and colonialism, a black radical politics, a
politics of debt without payment, without credit, without limit. This
debt was built in a struggle with empire before empire, where power
was not with institutions or governments alone, where any owner or
colonizer had the violent power of a ubiquitous state. This debt attached to those who through dumb insolence or nocturnal plans ran
away without leaving, left without getting out. This debt got shared
with anyone whose soul was sought for labor power, whose spirit was
borne with a price marking it. And it is still shared, never credited
and never abiding credit, a debt you play, a debt you walk, and debt
you love. And without credit this debt is infinitely complex. It does
not resolve in profit, seize assets, or balance in payment. The black
radical tradition is the movement that works through this debt. The
black radical tradition is debt work. It works in the bad debt of those
in bad debt. It works intimately and at a distance until autonomia, for
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T HE U N D E R C O MM ONS
instance, remembers, and forgets. The black radical tradition is unconsolidated debt.
We went to the public hospital but it was private, but we went through
the door marked private to the nurses coffee room, and it was public.
We went to the public university but it was private, but we went to
the barber shop on campus and it was public. We went into the hospital, into the university, into the library, into the park. We were offered credit for our debt. We were granted citizenship. We were given
the credit of the state, the right to make private any public gone bad.
Good citizens can match credit and debt. They get credit for knowing
the difference, for knowing their place. Bad debt leads to bad publics, publics unmatched, unconsolidated, unprofitable. We were made
honorary citizens. We honored our debt to the nation. We rated the
service, scored the cleanliness, paid our fees.
Then we went to the barbershop and they gave us a Christmas breakfast, and we went to the coffee room and got coffee and red pills. We
were going to run but we didnt have to. They ran. They ran across
the state and across the economy, like a secret cut, a public outbreak,
a fugitive fold. They ran but they didnt go anywhere. They stayed so
we could stay. They saw our bad debt coming a mile off. They showed
us this was the public, the real public, the fugitive public, and where
to look for it. Look for it here where they say the state doesnt work.
Look for it here where they say there is something wrong with that
street. Look for it here where new policies are to be introduced. Look
for it here where tougher measures are to be taken, bells are to be
tightened, papers are to be served, neighborhoods are to be swept.
Anywhere bad debt elaborates itself. Anywhere you can stay, conserve
yourself, plan. A few minutes, a few days when you cannot hear them
say there is something wrong with you.
65
We hear them say, whats wrong with you is your bad debt. Youre
not working. You fail to pay your debt to society. You have no credit,
but that is to be expected. You have bad credit, and that is fine. But
bad debt is a problem. Debt seeking only other debt, detached from
creditors, fugitive from restructuring. Destructuring debt, now thats
wrong. But even still, whats wrong with you can be fixed. First we
give you a chance. Thats called governance, a chance to be interested,
and a shot even at being disinterested. Thats policy. Or we give you
policy, if you are still wrong, still bad. Bad debt is senseless, which is to
say it cannot be perceived by the senses of capital. But there is therapy
available. Governance wants to connect your debt again to the outside
world. You are on the spectrum, the capitalist spectrum of interests.
You are the wrong end. Your bad debt looks unconnected, autistic, in
its own world. But you can be developed. You can get credit after all.
The key is interests. Tell us what you want. Tell us what you want and
we can help you get it, on credit. We can lower the rate so you can
have interest. We can raise the rate so you will pay attention. But we
cant do it alone. Governance only works when you work, when you
tell us your interests, when you invest your interests again in debt and
credit. Governance is the therapy of your interests, and your interests
will bring your credit back. You will have an investment, even in debt.
And governance will gain new senses, new perceptions, new advances
into the world of bad debt, new victories in the war on those without
interests, those who will not speak for themselves, participate, identify their interests, invest, inform, demand credit.
Governance does not seek credit. It does not seek citizenship, although it is often understood to do so. Governance seeks debt, debt
that will seek credit. Governance cannot not know what might be
shared, what might be mutual, what might be common. Why award
credit, why award citizenship? Only debt is productive, only debt
makes credit possible, only debt lets credit rule. Productivity always
comes before rule, even if the students of governance do not understand this, and even if governance itself barely understands this. But
rule does come, and today it is called policy, the reign of precarity.
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And who knows where it will hit you, some creditor walking by you.
You keep your eyes down but he makes policy anyway, smashes any
conservation you have built up, any bad debt you are smuggling. Your
life goes back to vicious chance, to arbitrary violence, a new credit
card, new car loan, torn from those who hid you, ripped from those
who shared bad debt with you. They dont hear from you again.
67
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The hope that Cornel West wrote about in 1984 was not destined to
become what we call policy. The ones who practiced it, within and
against the grain of every imposed contingency, always had a plan.
In and out of the depths of Reaganism, against the backdrop and by
way of a resuscitory irruption into politics that Jesse Jackson could be
said to have both symbolised and quelled, something West indexes
as black radicalism, which hopes against hopein order to survive
in the deplorable present, asserts a metapolitical surrealism that sees
and sees through the evidence of mass incapacity, cutting the despair
it breeds. Exuberantly metacritical hope has always exceeded every
immediate circumstance in its incalculably varied everyday enactments of the fugitive art of social life. This art is practiced on and over
the edge of politics, beneath its ground, in animative and improvisatory decomposition of its inert body. It emerges as an ensemblic
stand, a kinetic set of positions, but also takes the form of embodied
PLANN ING AND POL IC Y
73
notation, study, score. Its encoded noise is hidden in plain sight from
the ones who refuse to see and hear even while placing under constant surveillance the thing whose repressive imitation they call for
and are. Now, more than a quarter century after Wests analysis, and
after an intervening iteration that had the nerve to call hope home
while serially disavowing it and helping to extend and prepare its almost total eclipse, the remains of American politics exudes hope once
again. Having seemingly lost its redoubled edge while settling in and
for the carceral techniques of the possible, having thereby unwittingly
become the privileged mode of expression of a kind of despair, hope
appears now simply to be a matter of policy. Policy, on the other hand,
now comes into view as no simple matter.
What we are calling policy is the new form command takes as command takes hold. It has been noted that with new uncertainties in
how and where surplus value is generated, and how and where it will
be generated next, economic mechanisms of compulsion have been
replaced by directly political forms. Of course for the colonial subject this change is no change as Fanon understood; and as Nahum
Chandler has pointed out, the problem of the color line is neither a
matter of a new nor an old primitive accumulation. The problem is
nothing other than the way the difference between labor and capital
remains prior to its remainder and is made abundant or into abundance. Moreover what we are calling policy comes into view now not
because management has failed in the workplace, where it proliferates
as never before, but because economic management cannot win the
battle that rages in the realm of social reproduction. Here management encounters forms of what we will call planning that resist its
every effort to impose a compulsion of scarcity through seizing the
means of social reproduction. In the undercommons of the social reproductive realm the means, which is to say the planners, are still part
of the plan. And the plan is to invent the means in a common experiment launched from any kitchen, any back porch, any basement, any
hall, any park bench, any improvised party, every night. This ongoing experiment with the informal, carried out by and on the means
of social reproduction, as the to come of the forms of life, is what we
mean by planning; planning in the undercommons is not an activity,
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not fishing or dancing or teaching or loving, but the ceaseless experiment with the futurial presence of the forms of life that make such
activities possible. It is these means that were eventually stolen by, in
having been willingly given up to, state socialism whose perversion of
planning was a crime second only to the deployment of policy in todays command economy.
Of course, the old forms of command have never gone away. The carceral state is still in effect and strategic wars on drugs, youth, violence,
and terrorism have even given way to logistic wars of drones and
credit. But horrible as such state command remains, it now deputises
and delegates its power to seemingly countless and utterly accountable and accounted for agents who perform contemporary internal
versions of the knightriders and settlers of earlier state violence deputisations. Or rather, since nightriders and settlers never really went
away, deputised for segregation, anti-communism, migration, and nuclear family heteropatriarchy in much of the Global North, what policy represents is a new weapon in the hands of these citizen-deputies.
Stand your ground because man was not born to run away, because
his color wont run, because again and again the settler must incant
the disavowal and target the epidermalised trace of his own desire for
refuge is only the most notorious iteration of this renewed dispersal
and deputisation of state violence, aimed into the fugitive, ambling
neighbourhoods of the undercommons.
Content neither with abandoning the realm of social reproduction
nor conditioning it for the workplace, the two always related moves
of the relative autonomy of the capitalist state, today capital wants in.
It has glimpsed the value of social reproduction and wants control of
the means, and no longer just by converting them into productivities
within formal industrialisations of care, food, education, sex, etc. but
by gaining access to and directly controlling the informal experiment
with the social reproduction of life itself. To do this, it has to break
up the ongoing plans of the undercommons. And here, with bitter
irony, is where the hope West could still speak of in 1984, which has
subsequently gone back underground, is conjured as an image whose
fecklessness is also its monstrosity. What we talk about, in its survival,
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So how does policy attempt to break this means, this militant preservation, all this planning? After the diagnosis that something is deeply
wrong with the planners comes the prescription: help and correction.
Policy will help. Policy will help with the plan and, even more, policy
will correct the planners. Policy will discover what is not yet theorized, what is not yet fully contingent, and most importantly what is
not yet legible. Policy is correction, forcing itself with mechanical violence upon the incorrect, the uncorrected, the ones who do not know
to seek their own correction. Policy distinguishes itself from planning
by distinguishing those who dwell in policy and fix things from those
who dwell in planning and must be fixed. This is the first rule of policy. It fixes others. In an extension of Michel Foucaults work we might
say of this first rule that its accompanying concern is with good government, with how to fix others in a position of equilibrium, even if
today this requires constant recalibration. But the objects of this constant adjustment provoke this attention because they just dont want
to govern, let alone be governed, at all. To break these means of planning, and so to determine them in recombined and privatized ways,
is the necessary goal and instrumentality of policy as command. It
wants to smash all forms of militant preservation, to break the movement of social rest in which the next plan always remains potential
with a dream of settled potency. This is now what change means,
what policy is for, as it invades the social reproductive realm where,
as Leopaldina Fortunati noted three decades ago, the struggle rages.
And because such policy emerges materially from post-fordist opportunism, policy must optimally allow for each policy deputy to take
advantage of his opportunity and fix others as others, as those who
have not just made an error in planning (or indeed an error by planning) but who are themselves in error. And from the perspective of
policy, of this post-fordist opportunism, there is indeed something
wrong with those who plan together. They are out of joint instead
of constantly positing their position in contingency, they seek solidity
in a mobile place from which to plan, some hold in which to imagine,
some love on which to count. Again, this is not just a political problem from the point of view of policy, but an ontological one. Brushing the ground beneath their feet, finding anti- and ante-contingent
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flight in putting their feet on the ground, differences escape into their
own outer depths signalling the problematic essentialism of those
who think and act like they are something in particular, although at
the same time that something is, from the perspective of policy, whatever they say it is, which is nothing in particular.
To get these planners out of this problem of essentialism, this choreographic fixity and repose, this security and base and bass-lined curve,
they must come to imagine they can be more, they can do more, they
can change, they can be changed. After all, they keep making plans
and plans fail as a matter of policy. Plans must fail because planners
must fail. Planners are static, essential, just surviving. They do not see
clearly. They hear things. They lack perspective. They fail to see the
complexity. To the deputies, planners have no vision, no real hope for
the future, just a plan here and now, an actually existing plan.
They need hope. They need vision. They need to have their sights lifted above the furtive plans and night launches of their despairing lives.
They need vision. Because from the perspective of policy it is too dark
in there, in the black heart of the undercommons, to see. You can hear
something, can feel something present at its own making. But the
deputies can bring hope, and hope can lift planners and their plans,
the means of social reproduction, above ground into the light, out of
the shadows, away from these dark senses. Deputies fix others, not in
an imposition upon but in the imposition of selves, as objects of control and command, whether one is posited as being capable of selfhood or not. Whether they lack consciousness or politics, utopianism
or common sense, hope has arrived.
Having been brought to light and into their own new vision, planners
will become participants. And participants will be taught to reject
essence for contingency, as if planning and improvisation, flexibility and fixity, and complexity and simplicity, were opposed within
an imposition there is no choice but to inhabit, as some exilic home
where policy sequesters its own imagination, so they can be safe from
one another. It is crucial that planners choose to participate. Policy
is a mass effort. Intellectuals will write articles in the newspapers,
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philosophers will hold conferences on new utopias, bloggers will debate, and politicians will compromise here, where change is policys
only constant. Participating in change is the second rule of policy.
Now hope is an orientation toward this participation in change, this
participation as change. This is the hope policy rolls like tear gas into
the undercommons. Policy not only tries to impose this hope, but also
enacts it. Those who dwell in policy do so not just by invoking contingency but by riding it, and so, in a sense, proving it. Those who dwell
in policy are prepared. They are legible to change, liable to change,
lendable to change. Policy is not so much a position as a disposition,
a disposition toward display. This is why policys chief manifestation
is governance.
Governance should not be confused with government or governmentality. Governance is most importantly a new form of expropriation.
It is the provocation of a certain kind of display, a display of interests
as disinterestedness, a display of convertibility, a display of legibility.
Governance is an instrumentalisation of policy, a set of protocols of
deputisation, where one simultaneously auctions and bids on oneself,
where the public and the private submit themselves to post-fordist
production. Governance is the harvesting of the means of social reproduction but it appears as the acts of will, and therefore as the death
drive, of the harvested. As capital cannot know directly the affect,
thought, sociality, and imagination that make up the undercommon
means of social reproduction, it must instead prospect for these in
order to extract and abstract them as labor. That prospecting, which
is the real bio-prospecting, seeks to break an integrity that has been
militantly preserved. Governance, the voluntary but dissociative offering up of interests, willing participation in the general privacy and
public privation, grants capital this knowledge, this wealth-making
capacity. Policy emits this offering, violently manifest as a moral provocation. The ones who would correct and the ones who would be corrected converge around this imperative of submission that is played
out constantly not only in that range of correctional facilities that
Foucault analysed the prisons, the hospitals, the asylums but also
in corporations, universities and NGOs. That convergence is given
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not only in the structures and affects of endless war but also in the
brutal processes and perpetual processing of peace.
Governance, despite its own hopes for a universality of exclusion, is for
the inducted, for those who know how to articulate interests disinterestedly, those who vote and know why they vote (not because someone
is black or female but because he or she is smart), who have opinions
and want to be taken seriously by serious people. In the mean time, policy must still pursue the quotidian sphere of open secret plans. Policy
posits curriculum against study, child development against play, human
capital against work. It posits having a voice against hearing voices, networked friending against contactual friendship. Policy posits the public
sphere, or the counter-public sphere, or the black public sphere, against
the illegal occupation of the illegitimately privatized.
Policy is not the one against the many, the cynical against the romantic, or the pragmatic against the principled. It is simply baseless vision, woven into settlers fabric. It is against all conservation, all rest,
all gathering, cooking, drinking and smoking if they lead to marronage. Policys vision is to break it up then fix it, move it along by fixing
it, manufacture ambition and give it to your children. Policys hope is
that there will be more policy, more participation, more change. But
there is also a danger in all this participation, a danger of crisis.
When those who plan together start to participate without first being fixed, this leads to crisis. Participation without fully entering the
blinding light of this dim enlightenment, without fully functioning
families and financial responsibility, without respect for the rule of
law, without distance and irony, without submission to the rule of expertise; participation that is too loud, too fat, too loving, too full, too
flowing, too dread; this leads to crisis. People are in crisis. Economies
are in crisis. We are facing an unprecedented crisis, a crisis of participation, a crisis of faith. Is there any hope? Yes, there is, say the deputies, if we can pull together, if we can share a vision of change. For
policy, any crisis in the productivity of radical contingency is a crisis
in participation, which is to say, a crisis provoked by the wrong participation of the wrong(ed). This is the third rule of policy.
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The crisis of the credit crunch caused by sub-prime debtors, the crisis
of race in the 2008 US elections produced by Reverend Wright and
Bernie Mac, the crisis in the Middle East produced by Hamas, the
crisis of obesity produced by unhealthy eaters, the crisis of the environment produced by Chinese and Indians, are all instances of incorrect and uncorrected participation. The constant materialisation of
planning in such participation is simply the inevitability of crisis, according to the deputised, who prescribe, as a corrective, hope for and
hopefulness in correction. They say that participation must be hopeful, must have vision, must embrace change; that participants must
be fashioned, in a general imposition of self-fashioning, as hopeful,
visionary, change agents. Celebrating their freedom on lockdown in
the enterprise zone, guarding that held contingency where the fashioning and correction of selves and others is always on automatic, the
participant is the deputys mirror image.
Deputies will lead the way toward concrete changes in the face of crisis. Be smart, they say. Believe in change. This is what we have been
waiting for. Stop criticising and offer solutions. Set up roadblocks and
offer workshops. Check IDs and give advice. Distinguish between
the desire to correct and the desire to plan with others. Ruthlessly
seek out and fearfully beware militant preservation, in an undercommons of means without ends, of love among things. Nows the time
to declare and, in so doing, correctly fashion yourself as the one who
is deputised to correct others. Nows the time, before its night again.
Before you start singing another half-illiterate fantasy. Before you resound that ongoing amplification of the bottom, the operations on
the edge of normal rhythms soft center. Before someone says lets
get together and get some land. But were not smart. We plan. We
plan to stay, to stick and move. We plan to be communist about communism, to be unreconstructed about reconstruction, to be absolute
about abolition, here, in that other, undercommon place, as that other,
undercommon thing, that we preserve by inhabiting. Policy cant see
it, policy cant read it, but its intelligible if you got a plan.
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FA N TA S Y I N T H E H O L D
To work today is to be asked, more and more, to do without thinking, to feel without emotion, to move without friction, to adapt without question, to translate without pause, to desire without purpose,
to connect without interruption. Only a short time ago many of us
said work went through the subject to exploit our social capacities, to
wring more labor power from our labor. The soul descended onto the
shop floor as Franco Bifo Berardi wrote, or ascended like a virtuoso
speaker without a score as Paolo Virno suggested. More prosaically
we heard the entrepreneur, the artist, and the stakeholder all proposed
as new models of subjectivity conducive to channeling the general intellect. But today we are prompted to ask: why worry about the subject at all, why go through such beings to reach the general intellect?
And why limit production to subjects, who are after all such a small
part of the population, such a small history of mass intellectuality?
There have always been other ways to put bodies to work, even to
maintain the fixed capital of such bodies, as Christian Marrazi might
say. And anyway for capital the subject has become too cumbersome,
too slow, too prone to error, too controlling, to say nothing of too
rarified, too specialized a form of life. Yet it is not we who ask this
question. This is the automatic, insistent, driving question of the field
of logistics. Logistics wants to dispense with the subject altogether.
This is the dream of this newly dominant capitalist science. This is
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the drive of logistics and the algorithms that power that dream, the
same algorithmic research that Donald Rumsfeld was in fact quoting
in his ridiculed unknown unknowns speech, a droning speech that
announced the conception of a drone war. Because drones are not
un-manned to protect American pilots. They are un-manned because
they think too fast for American pilots.
Today this field of logistics is in hot pursuit of the general intellect in
its most concrete form, that is its potential form, its informality, when
any time and any space and any thing could happen, could be the
next form, the new abstraction. Logistics is no longer content with
diagrams or with flows, with calculations or with predictions. It wants
to live in the concrete itself in space at once, time at once, form at
once. We must ask where it got this ambition and how it could come
to imagine it could dwell in or so close to the concrete, the material
world in its informality, the thing before there is anything. How does
it proposes to dwell in nothing, and why?
The rise of logistics is rapid. Indeed, to read today in the field of logistics is to read a booming field, a conquering field. In military science
and in engineering of course, but also in business studies, in management research, logistics is everywhere. And beyond these classic capitalist sciences, its ascent is echoed ahistorically in the emerging fields
of object-oriented philosophy and cognitive neuroscience, where
the logistical conditions of knowledge production go unnoticed, but
not the effects. In military science the world has been turned upside
down. Traditionally strategy led and logistics followed. Battle plans
dictated supply lines. No more. Strategy, traditional ally and partner
of logisitics, is today increasingly reduced to collateral damage in the
drive of logistics for dominance. In war without end, war without battles, only the ability to keep fighting, only logistics, matters.
And so too business innovation has become logistical and no longer
strategic. Business innovation of course does not come from business.
It is more often derived from military strategies of resistance to its
own armies, transferred free to business. Once this consisted in transferring innovations like the line and the formation and the chain of
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command from military science to the factory and the office, or transferring psychological and propaganda warfare to human relations and
marketing. These were free transfers of strategic innovation, requiring
managers to instantiate and maintain them. No more. As everything
from the internet to the shipping container testify, in keeping with
cold wars and wars on terror that lead always to the failure of strategy,
it is logistical free transfers that matter. Containerisation was failing
as a business innovation until the American government used containers to try to supply its troops in South East Asia with enough
weapons, booze, and drugs to keep them from killing their own officers, to keep a war going that could not be won strategically. Those
who dreamt of the internet, if not those who built it, were precisely
worried about the corruption of intelligence that the outbreak of democracy, as the Trilateral Commission thought of it, made possible
in the 1970s. ARPANET as an intelligence gathering network could
not have its head turned by sex or ideology, much less the powerful
combination of the two. It would not be confused by the outbreak of
democracy. And it assumed a never-ending accumulation of intelligence for a never-ending war that many would not want to fight.
To Toni Negris challenge, show me a business innovation and I will
show you a workers rebellion, we could add a pre-history the state
fearing its own workforce.
Containerisation itself stands for what should be called the first wave
of regulatory innovation as logistics, which moves in tandem with the
first wave of financialisation, the other response to these insurgencies by capitalism, aside from violent repression. Indeed logistics and
financialisation worked together in both phases of innovation, with,
roughly speaking, the first working on production across bodies, the
second renovating the subject of production. Financialisation is perhaps the better known of the two strategies of resistance to rebellion,
with a first phase selling off factories and state assets, and the second
selling of homes and banks, only in both instances to rent them back
on credit in a kind of global pawn-broking. This had the desired effect of reorganizing any subjects attached to such pawned objects into
walking, talking credit reports, who contract their own financial contagion, as Randy Martin and Angela Mitropoulos suggest in different
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Where did logistics get this ambition to connect bodies, objects, affects, information, without subjects, without the formality of subjects,
as if it could reign sovereign over the informal, the concrete and generative indeterminacy of material life? The truth is, modern logistics
was born that way. Or more precisely it was born in resistance to, given as the acquisition of, this ambition, this desire and this practice of
the informal. Modern logistics is founded with the first great movement of commodities, the ones that could speak. It was founded in
the Atlantic slave trade, founded against the Atlantic slave. Breaking
from the plundering accumulation of armies to the primitive accumulation of capital, modern logistics was marked, branded, seared with
the transportation of the commodity labor that was not, and ever after would not be, no matter who was in that hold or containerized
in that ship. From the motley crew who followed in the red wakes of
these slave ships, to the prisoners shipped to the settler colonies, to
the mass migrations of industrialisation in the Americas, to the indentured slaves from India, China, and Java, to the trucks and boats
leading north across the Mediterranean or the Rio Grande, to oneway tickets from the Philippines to the Gulf States or Bangladesh to
Singapore, logistics was always the transport of slavery, not free labor.
Logistics remains, as ever, the transport of objects that is held in the
movement of things. And the transport of things remains, as ever, logistics unrealizable ambition.
Logistics could not contain what it had relegated to the hold. It cannot. Robert F. Harney, the historian of migration from the bottomup, used to say once you crossed the Atlantic, you were never on the
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Brett Neilson on borders for instance reminds us that the proliferation of borders between states, within states, between people, within
people is a proliferation of states of statelessness. These borders grope
their way toward the movement of things, bang on containers, kick
at hostels, harass camps, shout after fugitives, seeking all the time to
harness this movement of things, this logisticality. But this fails to
happen, borders fail to cohere, because the movement of things will
not cohere. This logisticality will not cohere. It is, as Sara Ahmed says,
queer disorientation, the absence of coherence, but not of things, in
the moving presence of absolutely nothing. As Frank B. Wilderson
III teaches us, the improvisational imperative is, therefore, to stay in
the hold of the ship, despite my fantasies of flight.
But this is to say that there are flights of fantasy in the hold of the
ship. The ordinary fugue and fugitive run of the language lab, black
phonographys brutally experimental venue. Paraontological totality
is in the making. Present and unmade in presence, blackness is an instrument in the making. Quasi una fantasia in its paralegal swerve, its
mad-worked braid, the imagination produces nothing but exsense in
the hold. Do you remember the days of slavery? Nathaniel Mackey
rightly says The world was ever after/elsewhere,/no/way where we
were/was there. No way where we are is here. Where we were, where
we are, is what we meant by mu, which Wilderson would rightly call
the void of our subjectivity. And so it is we remain in the hold, in
the break, as if entering again and again the broken world, to trace the
visionary company and join it. This contrapuntal island, where we are
marooned in search of marronage, where we linger in stateless emergency, in our our lysed cell and held dislocation, our blown standpoint
and lyred chapel, in (the) study of our sea-born variance, sent by its
pre-history into arrivance without arrival, as a poetics of lore, of abnormal articulation, where the relation between joint and flesh is the
folded distance of a musical moment that is emphatically, palpably
imperceptible and, therefore, difficult to describe. Having defied degradation the moment becomes a theory of the moment, of the feeling of a presence that is ungraspable in the way that it touches. This
musical moment the moment of advent, of nativity in all its terrible
beauty, in the alienation that is always already born in and as parousia
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that violence, the sound that must be heard as that to which such violence responds? The answer, the unmasking, is mu not simply because
in its imposed opposition to something, nothing is understood simply
to veil, as if some epidermal livery, (some higher) being and is therefore relative as opposed to what Nishida Kitaro, would call absolute;
but because nothing (this paraontological interplay of blackness and
nothingness, this aesthetic sociality of the shipped, this logisticality)
remains unexplored, because we dont know what we mean by it, because it is neither a category for ontology nor for socio-phenomenological analysis. What would it be for this to be understood in its own
improper refusal of terms, from the exhausted standpoint that is not
and that is not its own? We attach, Fanon says, a fundamental importance to the phenomenon of language and consequently consider
the study of language essential for providing us with one element in
understanding the black mans dimension of being-for-others, it being understood that to speak is to exist absolutely for the other. He
says, moreover, that [t]he black man possesses two dimensions: one
with his fellow Blacks, the other with the Whites. But this is not
simply a question of perspective, since what we speak of is this radical being beside itself of blackness, its off to the side, off on the inside,
out from the outside imposition. The standpoint, the home territory,
chez lui Markmans off the mark, blind but insightful, mistranslation
is illuminative, among his own, signifying a relationality that displaces
the already displaced impossibility of home. Can this being together
in homelessness, this interplay of the refusal of what has been refused,
this undercommon appositionality, be a place from which emerges
neither self-consciousness nor knowledge of the other but an improvisation that proceeds from somewhere on the other side of an unasked question? Not simply to be among his own; but to be among
his own in dispossession, to be among the ones who cannot own, the
ones who have nothing and who, in having nothing, have everything.
This is the sound of an unasked question. A choir versus acquisition,
chant and moan and Sprechgesang, babel and babble and gobbledygook, relaxin by a brook or creek in Camarillo, singing to it, singing
of it, singing with it, for the bird of the crooked beak, the generative
hook of le petit negre, the little niggers comic spear, the cosmic crook
of language, the burnin and lootin of pidgin, Birds talk, Bobs talk,
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bard talk, bar talk, baby talk, B talk, preparing the minds of the little
negro steelworkers for meditation. Come on, get to this hard, serial
information, this brutally beautiful medley of carceral intrication, this
patterning of holds and what is held in the holds phonic vicinity. That
spiraling Mackey speaks of suffers brokenness and crumpling, the
imposition of irrationally rationalized angles, compartments bearing
nothing but breath and battery in hunted, haunted, ungendered intimacy. Is there a kind of propulsion, through compulsion, against
the mastery of ones own speed, that ruptures both recursion and advance? What is the sound of this patterning? What does such apposition look like? What remains of eccentricity after the relay between
loss and restoration has its say or song? In the absence of amenity, in
exhaustion, theres a society of friends where everything can fold in
dance to black, in being held and flown, in what was never silence.
Cant you hear them whisper one anothers touch?
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STEVPHEN: Id like to start our conversation in a somewhat playful, metaphoric manner, with an idea from Selma James that I recently came across. Selma was describing the advice that CLR James
gave her for writing: that she should keep a shoebox, collecting in it
various ideas and thoughts. When the shoebox was getting filled she
would have all that was needed for writing. If you were to introduce
someone to your collaborative work through the form of a conceptual
shoebox, what would be in it? What would be in there?
FRED: The thing I felt when I read that was, if I were Selma James, I
would ask to get clarification on what he meant. The one thing I do
thats similar is that I carry around little notebooks and I jot things
down all the time. If I dont have my notebooks, I write notes on pieces of paper and stick them in my pocket. Whats funny is that I dont
think of it as a shoebox, because 95% of the time I write stuff down
and thats the end of it. Its more that I have a thought and I write it
down and then I never think about it again. Seldom do I even transcribe into the computer.
The one thing that I was interested in about the question, it strikes
me, especially in thinking about working collaboratively, with Stefano, you sort of dont need a shoebox in a way, because I always feel
like, when Im asleep, hes up thinking about something. And also,
working so closely with my wife, Laura, its not as much having a
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shoebox in which Im writing down my thoughts as that Im having a long conversation with a few people. What Im trying to say is
that the content of the box is less important for me than the ongoing
process of talking with somebody else, and the ideas that emerge. So,
I dont feel like there are five or six ideas that Im always working on
and thinking about that I can pull out of my box. Its more like there
are five or six people that Im always thinking with. If you ask me, I
couldnt tell you, oh there are these four or five ideas that Im constantly going back to that I have to have in my box. It doesnt feel that
way. It feels more like there are one or two things that Ive been talking about with people forever. And the conversation develops over the
course of time, and you think of new things and you say new things.
But, the ideas that are stuck in my head are usually things that somebody else said.
STEFANO: Its hard for me to answer because Im a person who
doesnt make notes on what I read, because I just know Im not going
to go back to them. Im not a collector in that way. But, I also feel like
theres something there; its not necessarily a box, but perhaps as Fred
says, a series of conversations. Whats also interesting to me is that
the conversations themselves can be discarded, forgotten, but theres
something that goes on beyond the conversations which turns out to
be the actual project. Its the same thing I think in the building of any
kind of partnership or collectivity: its not the thing that you do; its
the thing that happens while youre doing it that becomes important,
and the work itself is some combination of the two modes of being.
Or to put it in the way of the shipped, its not the box thats important
but the experiment among the un/contained.
STEVPHEN: Perhaps the shoebox metaphor was more useful for Selma
in the sense that she was more cut off from social contact and was trying to write by herself, and trying to think in isolation, which has its
own risks and downfalls. Reading through the texts youve written
together, there is a certain set of concepts that you both develop and
work with in ways that are somewhat idiosyncratic perhaps they are
the products of this ongoing dialogue that you have had for years, can
you explain how these particular concepts have emerged from that?
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STEFANO: I could list for you some of our concepts such as under-
FRED: I think thats right. I feel, in a lot of ways, the fun thing about
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props. They are constantly involved in this massive project of pretending. And the toys that they have are props for their pretending. They
dont play with them the right way a sword is what you hit a ball
with and a bat is what you make music with. I feel that way about
these terms. In the end whats most important is that the thing is
put in play. Whats most important about play is the interaction. One
time we were driving in the car and my kids were playing this game
called family, and its basically that theyve created an alternative
family and they just talk about what the alternative family is doing.
This time, when they had really started enjoying the game, my eldest
son looked at me, I could see him through the rearview mirror, and he
said, dad, we have a box, and were going to let you open this box, and
if you open the box, you can enter into our world. Thats kind of what
it feels like: there are these props, these toys, and if you pick them up
you can move into some new thinking and into a new set of relations,
a new way of being together, thinking together. In the end, its the
new way of being together and thinking together thats important,
and not the tool, not the prop. Or, the prop is important only insofar
as it allows you to enter; but once youre there, its the relation and the
activity thats really what you want to emphasize. So, with that said, if
somebodys reading our stuff, and they think they can get something
out of the term planning or undercommons or logisticality, thats
great, but what matters is what they do with it; its where they take
it in their own relations. When people read their stuff it leads people
to look up and read ours. That also creates a different kind of relation
between us, even if were not necessarily cognizant of it.
STEFANO: Just pick up a toy...
STEVPHEN: Following on from that Id like to ask something about
how you approach writing together. If concepts are tools for living or
toyboxes for playing, when you pick up a text thats finished, unless
youve got some special texts that I dont know of, you dont get a sense
of the playing or the living usually. What you get a sense of is some
finished product where the collectivity animating the work that preceded it which I would agree with you is the most important thing
somehow gets lost along the way. How do you negotiate that? Or is
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there a way to flag up, in a written text, dont take this too seriously,
go out and play with it?
STEFANO: Well, one way that I do that is by revising how I say things.
So, some people might call my style repetitive, partly because Im rephrasing things all the time, but also because Im trying to show that
Im playing with something rather than that its finished. If Im going along in a kind of duh dum duh dum duh dum rhyming kind of
way in the writing, its partly to say that were in rehearsal here. And
since were rehearsing, you might as well pick up an instrument too.
So, for me, it must be right there in the writing in some form. Its not
enough to signal it outside the writing, to send the piece out and to
say, oh, really this is still open for this or that. It has to be somehow
in the writing itself that the thing hasnt closed off. Part of that is that
to write with another person is, in a sense, always to keep something
open, because you always have the question of, do they both think
that way, who said that? Instead of worrying about that, I think thats
nice. That means that the text is already open to more than one, in
that sense.
FRED: I think thats right. Sometimes, when youre listening to somebody, and youre trying to think about whos on the left channel and
whos on the right channel. And then you kind of realize that its not
really that important. You spend all this time trying to figure it out,
but then you realize that theres also this interaction and interplay
thats still going on in the text. Its not a dead thing. What you listen to or what youre reading is still moving and still living. Its still
forming.
Theres this thing I was trying to think about last year, teaching Black
Skin, White Masks, and reading it and recognizing, finally, because I
guess Im kinda slow, that, ah shit, Fanon went to medical school.
This is important. Then to be fascinated by Fanons use of the term
lyse, lysis. He didnt write critique or even analysis but invoked this
biochemical process of the breakdown of cells, which, then, experimentalists try to replicate. All of a sudden, reading Fanon means trying to find out what biochemists mean when they say lysis. What
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might a doctor mean? Then recalling that Plato has a dialogue called
Lysis that turns and keeps turning on whats interminable in the analysis or theory of friendship. Fanons text is still open and it still opens.
Now you have to go inside it. When youre inside, now, you have to
go outside of it. Actually, youre being blown out of it this happens within the context of a single authored piece when you realize
its not a single authored piece. Yeah, its under his name, and one
might say, of course that what Im saying is not only simple and true
but also mundane. Anybody who understands anything about reading will come to know this; yeah, thats intertextuality. But, theres
another way to think about it that lets you realize that its even deeper
than that. Its not just the simple fact of intertextuality that youre
talking about. Its different. Recognizing that text is intertext is one
thing. Seeing that a text is a social space is another. Its a deeper way
of looking at it. To say that its a social space is to say that stuff is going on: people, things, are meeting there and interacting, rubbing off
one another, brushing against one another and you enter into that
social space, to try to be part of it. So, what I guess Im trying to say
is that the terms are important insofar as they allow you, or invite
you, or propel you, or require you, to enter into that social space. But
once you enter into that social space, terms are just one part of it, and
theres other stuff too. There are things to do, places to go, and people
to see in reading and writing and its about maybe even trying to
figure out some kind of ethically responsible way to be in that world
with other things.
Our first collaborations were in poetry. Thats basically the better way
to put it. All of that other stuff that I was just saying which made no
sense: strike that! Weve been thinking about stuff to do. Hanging
around, talking, and drinking. Eventually things deterioriated to the
point where we were writing something. But the collaboration is way
older than the production of any text. The first thing we wrote together, Doing Academic Labor, was in 90-something. I dont know. But
there were fifteen years of hanging out together before we published
something. Hopefully, when the last thing gets published, well have
fifteen more years of hanging out together after that.
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STEFANO: And then the next publication... [laughs]. The one thing
that I was thinking about as you were talking about the text being a
social space is its exciting for me when we get to that point where the
text is open enough that instead of being studied, it actually becomes
the occasion for study. So, we enter into the social world of study,
which is one in which you start to lose track of your debts and begin
to see that the whole point is to lose track of them and just build them
in a way that allows for everyone to feel that she or he can contribute or not contribute to being in a space. That seems to me to be not
about saying theres no longer somebody who might have insisted or
persisted in getting us into that time-space of study, but rather that
the text is one way for that kind of insistence on study to be an open
insistence, to be one that doesnt have to be about authority or ongoing leadership or anything like that, but a kind of invitation for other
people to pick stuff up. Ive been thinking more and more of study as
something not where everybody dissolves into the student, but where
people sort of take turns doing things for each other or for the others, and where you allow yourself to be possessed by others as they
do something. That also is a kind of dispossession of what you might
otherwise have been holding onto, and that possession is released in
a certain way voluntarily, and then some other possession occurs by
others.
I think that this notion also applies in the social space of the text itself, even where the study is not yet apparent. If you think about the
way we read a text, we come in and out of it at certain moments, and
those moments of possession are, for me, opportunities to say, well,
how could this become more generalized? This sense of dispossession,
and possession by the dispossessed is a way to think what Fred and
I call the general antagonism, which is a concept that runs through
all our work, as it runs through our sense of the world. The riotous
production of difference which is the general antagonism cannot be
tamed either by the feudal authority or social violence that is capitalism much less by policy initiatives like agonistic dialogues or alternative public spheres. But where the aim is not to suppress the
general antagonism but to experiment with its informal capacity, that
place is the undercommons or rather, whereever and whenever that
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experiment is going on within the general antagonism the undercommons is found. Being possessed by the dispossessed, and offering
up possession through dispossession, is such an experiment and is,
among other things, a way to think of love, and this too can arise in
study. I think this is the kind of experiment we are attempting with
the School for Study.
STEVPHEN: Preparing for the interview I resorted to a typically web
you enter into the undercommons?: well, you know, the undercommons is a box, and if you open it you can enter into our world. A couple of people seem to be reticent about the term study, but is there a
way to be in the undercommons that isnt intellectual? Is there a way
of being intellectual that isnt social? When I think about the way we
use the term study, I think we are committed to the idea that study is
what you do with other people. Its talking and walking around with
other people, working, dancing, suffering, some irreducible convergence of all three, held under the name of speculative practice. The
notion of a rehearsal being in a kind of workshop, playing in a band,
in a jam session, or old men sitting on a porch, or people working
together in a factory there are these various modes of activity. The
point of calling it study is to mark that the incessant and irreversible intellectuality of these activities is already present. These activities arent ennobled by the fact that we now say, oh, if you did these
things in a certain way, you could be said to be have been studying.
To do these things is to be involved in a kind of common intellectual
practice. Whats important is to recognize that that has been the case
because that recognition allows you to access a whole, varied, alternative history of thought.
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that study is already going on, including when you walk into a classroom and before you think you start a class, by the way. This is equally
the case with planning. Think of the way we use policy, as something
like thinking for others, both because you think others cant think
and also because you somehow think that you can think, which is the
other part of thinking that theres something wrong with someone
else thinking that youve fixed yourself somehow, and therefore that
gives you the right to say someone else needs fixing. Planning is the
opposite of that, its to say, look, its not that people arent thinking
for themselves, acting for themselves together in concert in these different ways. It just appears that way for you because youve corrected
yourself in this particular way in which they will always look wrong
for you and where therefore you try to deploy policy against them.
The very deployment of policy is the biggest symptom that theres
something youre not getting in thinking that you need to do that
and it seems to me, really, the same with study. I think its also fine
for people not to use it or to find something else. But, equally, I think
that the point about study is that intellectual life is already at work
around us. When I think of study, Im as likely to think about nurses
in the smoking room as I am about the university. I mean it really
doesnt have anything to do with the university to me, other than that,
as Laura Harris says, the university is this incredible gathering of resources. So, when youre thinking, its nice to have books.
FRED: Of course the smoking room is an incredible gathering of resources too.
STEFANO: Yes. So, I just dont think of study and the university with
that kind of connection even though originally we were writing
about what we knew, and thats why the undercommons first came
out in relationship to the university. I dont see the undercommons
as having any necessary relationship to the university. And, given the
fact that, to me, the undercommons is a kind of comportment or ongoing experiment with and as the general antagonism, a kind of way of
being with others, its almost impossible that it could be matched up
with particular forms of institutional life. It would obviously be cut
though in different kinds of ways and in different spaces and times.
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FRED: Studying is not limited to the university. Its not held or contained within the university. Study has a relation to the university, but
only insofar as the university is not necessarily excluded from the undercommons that it tries so hard to exclude.
STEVPHEN: The particular question youre responding to was asked
by Zach Schwartz-Weinstein on the history of non-instructional academic labor, which brings me to what I wanted to ask. I understand
theres a much broader and deeper understanding of study that youre
working on. But, your work started in the 1990s by looking at particular conditions of academic labor. So this is a question about how
the broader conception of study fits into the more specific conditions
of academic labor youre talking about. Youre talking about how certain kinds of academic labor pre-empt collectivity or, almost because
they encourage a very individualistic investment in the labor, they
pre-empt that sort of broader project from emerging. So, is this something that is very particular to academic labor or is this something
that is more general to forms of labor that require this investment?
I guess my question is: how do you understand the relation between
the specific forms of class composition of academic labor and broader patterns? I think its easy for the specific to be conflated with the
more general kind.
FRED: When I think now about the question or problem of academic
labor, I think about it in this way: that part of what Im interested in
is how the conditions of academic labor have become unconducive
to study how the conditions under which academic laborers labor
actually preclude or prevent study, make study difficult if not impossible. When I was involved in labor organizing as a graduate student,
with the Association of Graduate Student Employees at the University of California Berkeley I was frustrated with the way that sometimes graduate student investment in thinking about themselves as
workers was predicated on the notion that workers dont study. But
this was more than just a romanticisation of authentic work and a
disavowal of our own inauthenticity as workers. It was that our image of ourselves as academic laborers actually acceded to the ways in
which the conditions of academic labor prevented study. We actually
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That said, probably there was something I dont know about for
Fred, but I needed to work through a little bit that I was an academic worker and I needed to position myself in a way that moved beyond
its restrictions. But the other thing was that there are certain ways in
which that academic model of preventing study has been generalized. So, its no longer just in the university that study is prevented.
Because the one true knowledge transfer from the university has been
its peculiar labor process. They successfully managed to transfer the
academic labor process to the private firm, so that everybody thinks
that theyre an academic, everybody thinks that theyre a student so,
these kind of twenty-four hour identities. People propose the model
of the artist or entrepreneur but no, this is too individual, capitalism still has a labor process. The university is a kind of factory line,
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a kind of labor process perfect for reintroducing a version of absolute surplus value back into the work day by trying to fashion work
into this model which we associate with the university. And when we
look closely at what was really going on in the university, what was
really transferred was everything but study, the whole labor regime
and all the organizational algorithms dedicated to closing down study
while performing intellectual work. So, the other reason to stay within the university is not just for a certain set of resources or because the
teaching space is still relatively if unevenly open, and not just because
somehow study still goes on in its undercommons, but because there
is this peculiar labor process model there thats being exported, thats
being generalized in so-called creative industries and other places,
and which is deployed expertly against study. This is something Paolo
Do has tracked in Asia where the expansion of the university means
an expansion of this baleful labor process into society.
STEVPHEN: Theres this argument put forth by the Precarious Work-
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putting it that way, I might say, theres a kind of fear in the university
around something like amateurism immaturity, pre-maturity, not
graduating, not being ready somehow and the student represents
that at certain moments. And supposedly our job with the student
is to help them overcome this so they can get credits and graduate.
Today its sort of that moment thats more interesting to me, because
thats a moment where your pre-maturity, your immaturity, your notbeing-ready, is also kind of an openness to being affected by others,
dispossessed and possessed by others. But, of course, in the university,
what theyre trying to do is get rid of that, so you can be a fully selfdetermined individual ready for work, or as Paolo Virno says, ready
to display that you are ready for work. So, to me, its less about the
student as co-worker, though its undoubtedly true that students do
a lot of the work, and much more about the student, as Denise Ferreira da Silva would say, as an example of an affected body. And of
course the professors, just like the philosophers that Denise is talking
about, freak out at that student, while at the same time its the thing
they work on, its a necessary point in the production cycle for them.
Theyre trying to remove anything that feels like that kind of affection
between bodies and to produce self-determined individuals. Entering
with the student into that moment, at that affective level, is the part
that interests me a bit more now than, say, engaging with them as the
worker, though I dont think thats wrong. It just seems to me less
than what could happen.
FRED: I think, looking back at those earlier pieces, that we just kept
pushing ahead, and kept moving, but that the movement was predicated on us trying to think about where we were at the time. These
are the conditions under which we live and operate, and we need to
try to think about that. Theres something wrong going on, lets think
about how it is and why it is that things arent the way wed like them
to be and we just basically had the temerity to believe that our desire for some other mode of being in the world had to be connected to
our attempt to understand the way that we were living and the conditions under which we were living at that moment. In other words,
and to me this is a kind of crucial thing: I wasnt thinking about trying to help somebody. I wasnt thinking about the university as a kind
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FRED: But, thats the insidious thing, this naturalisation of misery, the
belief that intellectual work requires alienation and immobility and
that the ensuing pain and nausea is a kind of badge of honor, a kind of
stripe you can apply to your academic robe or something. Enjoyment
is suspect, untrustworthy, a mark of illegitimate privilege or of some
kind of sissified refusal to look squarely into the fucked-up face of
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things which is, evidently, only something you can do in isolation. Its
just about not being cut off like that; to study the general antagonism
from within the general antagonism. My favorite movie is The Shoes of
the Fisherman and I want to be like this character in it named Father
Telemond. He believed in the world. Like Deleuze. I believe in the
world and want to be in it. I want to be in it all the way to the end of
it because I believe in another world in the world and I want to be
in that. And I plan to stay a believer, like Curtis Mayfield. But thats
beyond me, and even beyond me and Stefano, and out into the world,
the other thing, the other world, the joyful noise of the scattered,
scatted eschaton, the undercommon refusal of the academy of misery.
STEFANO: About seven years ago I moved from the US to the UK,
from a university system where graduate students taught on an industrial scale, to a more semi-feudal system with a lot of precarious
adjuncts instead. But then I got connected with comrades suffering
through the Baronial systems of Italy and elsewhere in Southern Europe, and if they wanted to study they had to leave the university, at
least strategically. That opened up another question for me, which was
when you leave the university to study, in what way do you have to
continue to recognize that youre not leaving the place of study and
making a new place, but entering a whole other world where study is
already going on beyond the university? I felt I ought to have some
way to be able to see that world, to feel that world, to sense it, and to
enter into it, to join the study already going on in different informal
ways, unforming, informing ways. When I speak about a speculative
practice, something I learnt by working with the performance artist Valentina Desideri, I am speaking about walking through study,
and not just studying by walking with others. A speculative practice
is study in movement for me, to walk with others and to talk about
ideas, but also what to eat, an old movie, a passing dog, or a new love,
is also to speak in the midst of something, to interrupt the other kinds
of study that might be going on, or might have just paused, that we
pass through, that we may even been invited to join, this study across
bodies, across space, across things, this is study as a speculative practice, when the situated practice of a seminar room or squatted space
moves out to encounter study in general.
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STEFANO: Yeah, I feel thats true. What I think is that each one is a
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up talking about planning. But theres also a part where Fred is very
directly able to address blackness in a piece. So, we were able to start
with something that we were feeling was an elaboration of our mode
of living, our inherited black radical tradition. Then, that piece ends
up with a kind of caution around governance.
At least from my point of view, Im always approaching Fred, hanging
out with Fred, to say, we know that there are things we like, so how
can we elaborate them this time, not just for each other but also for
other people, to say to others lets keep fighting, keep doing our thing.
So, its true that it isnt an argument that builds. To me, its picking up
different toys to see if we can get back to what were really interested
in. Not to say that that doesnt change. I have a richer understanding
of social life than I did a few years ago. When I started working with
Fred, social life, to me, had a lot to do with friendship, and it had a
lot to do with refusal refusal to do certain kinds of things. And then
gradually I got more and more interested in this term, preservation,
where I started to think about, well, refusals something that we do
because of them, what do we do because of ourselves? Recently, Ive
started to think more about elaborations of care and love. So, my social world is getting bigger with our work. But, each piece for me is
still another way to come at what we love and whats keeping us from
what we love. So, it isnt in that sense a scientific investigation that
starts at one end and finishes at the other end.
FRED: Its funny, this ubiquity of policy making, the constant deputisation of academic laborers into the apparatuses of police power. And
they are like night riders, paddy rollers, everybodys on patrol, trying
to capture the ones who are trying to get out especially themselves,
trying to capture their own fugitivity. Thats actually the first place at
which policy is directed. I think that a huge part of it has to do simply with, lets call it, a certain reduction of intellectual life to reduce
study into critique, and then at the same time, a really, really horrific,
brutal reduction of critique to debunking, which operates under the
general assumption that naturalised academic misery loves company
in its isolation, like some kind of warped communal alienation in
which people are tied together not by blood or a common language
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but by the bad feeling they compete over. And so, what ends up happening is you get a whole lot of people who, as Stefano was suggesting, spend a whole lot of time thinking about stuff that they dont
want to do, thinking about stuff that they dont want to be, rather
than beginning with, and acting out, what they want.
One of the people who wrote questions on Facebook is Dont Rhine
who is part of a political/artistic collective called Ultra-red which I
was lucky enough to be able to do something with a few weeks ago
in New York. He was talking about the Mississippi Freedom Schools,
and Ultra-red have been using the Freedom School curriculum as part
of their performances. These are pedagogical performances. What
theyre engaged in is essentially a kind of mobile, itinerant practice of
study that is situated around a certain set of protocols regarding the
problematic and the possibilities of sound. What theyre engaged in
is this process which, to me, is totally interesting and a model for how
one might be together with different people in the world, in different
places. My point is that the Mississippi Freedom School curriculum
asked a couple of questions of the people who were involved in it,
both the students and the teachers. One question was: What do we
not have that we need, what do we want or want to get? But the other
question, which is, I think, prior to the first in some absolutely irreducible way, is what do we have that we want to keep? And of course
theres a way of thinking about what was going on in Mississippi in
1964 that would be predicated on the notion that the last question
you would ever consider to be relevant for people in that situation, for
black folks in Mississippi in 1964, is what do they have that they want
to keep? The presumption is that they were living a life of absolute
deprivation that they were nothing and had nothing, where nothing
is understood in the standard way as signifying absence. What that
second, but prior, question presupposes is (a) that theyve got something that they want to keep, and (b) that not only do those people
who were fucking them over not have everything, but that part of
what we want to do is to organize ourselves around the principle that
we dont want everything they have. Not only is a lot of the shit that
they have bad, but so too is their very mode of having. We dont want
that. We dont need that. We have to avoid that. And what Im saying
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is that there is a kind of really sclerotic understanding of these problematics of having and not having, of privilege and under-privilege,
that structures the university as a place where policy proliferates.
So, we began thinking about the university because we were there.
And Stefano was saying, rightly I think, what we came to understand is that our attempt to understand the conditions under which
we were working led us to recognize that those conditions were being
farmed out, that those conditions were being proliferated all throughout the world that the university was an avant-garde of policy making and a place where the ubiquity of policy was being modeled for
other realms within the social world. And then, people were saying,
matter of fact, we can take a very sclerotic understanding of study,
or lets say, of knowledge production and knowledge acquisition, and
that can be the center around which we organize the export of this
whole process and problematic of policy making. So that, yeah, now
well model the workplace on a free school classroom. You wont have
fixed, individual desks anymore. Well have round tables and people
can do something that kinda seems like moving around, and well say
that we are concerned about your continuing education, and we want
you to feel free to express ideas. What in fact people were doing was
taking the kind of empty shell of what used to be called education
and saying, we can use this shell as a way of exporting the apparatus
of policy all throughout the social world. We realized that not only
are we trying to understand whats fucked up about our own situation, but were trying to understand how it is that the essential conditions of our own situation are being exported everywhere.
STEFANO: Yeah, thats right. Policy is especially directed towards the
poor, and one of the reasons for that is essentially because, as Fred was
saying, the wealth of having without owning which exists among
the poor, which is not to say that the poor arent also poor the social principle of having without ownership is ambivalent. On the one
hand, obviously, capital wants that; thats the whole intellectual property rights crap, of kind of keeping that stuff loose so people will be
productive about it. But, on the other hand, it cant really be abided in
the long term, and I think thats why you get this weird, what I call
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the growing forms of autonomy in social life, the reaction that takes
the form of governance and policy. Academics are caught up in that.
They have to confront the fact that theres no possibility that they
cant choose sides.
STEVPHEN: I would ask then what other ways are there to respond
to the seductiveness of governance? Or, what are your interests, what
do you want? Im thinking of the NGO world where you have this
prospecting for immaterial labor, for interests in order to be governed.
How do you find a response to that? The reason I look at it from the
point of view of seductiveness is I know some of my friends, and myself, who have ended up in the academy or the NGO world because
they were trying to avoid being drawn into a certain kind of labor
process, so they thought of it as their escape. But, their escape just
ended up being a different kind of prospecting, where they eventually got drawn into a different, almost deeper, more problematic form
of labor.
STEFANO: Yeah, the meta-labor process that they got drawn into.
The key thing with the NGOs and this is to some extent true in the
university, but not to the same degree, because of the strange figure of
the teacher the true ethos of the NGO is not to speak for a group
thats not speaking, but to somehow provoke that group to speak for
itself. Its all about, this group has to find its voice and speak up for
itself against the dam, and this kind of thing. On the one hand, you
think, well, fuck, what else could you do? I mean, youve gotta fight
the dam. On the other hand, it does seem to me that youre asking
people to call themselves into a certain form of identity. This is what
Gayatri means by the first right being the right to refuse rights, I
think. So, it seems to me that the NGO can often be a laboratory for
trying to solicit from people, trying to prospect from people, certain
ways that they have of being together, getting them to translate these
for, ultimately, capital. Im not a fan of this notion that were going to
be inscrutable or invisible to capital, or anything like that. But there
are always elaborations of social life that are not comprehended or exploited by capital. Capital, in its agency, just doesnt get it, necessarily.
Governance is a way to make it more legible to them in certain ways.
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there are two ways to think about it. One is some kind of normative
productivity that requires order, requires answering the call to order.
Or another way to look at it would be that in order to be recognizable, you have to answer the call to order and that the only genuine and authentic mode of living in the world is to be recognizable
within the terms of order. But, its kind of like that thing where you
walk into class, youre the teacher and you get there a couple minutes
early and there are people milling around and theres a conversation
already going on, and some of them might be talking about stuff you
might be talking about in class and some of them might be talking
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What Im really trying to say is, I think, its important to make a distinction between the capacity of capital, or the administration, to initiate, as opposed to their power to call to order. Theres a difference. They
dont initiate anything. In other words, the call to order is not in fact an
initiation. If its an initiation, its an initiation in the sense of being initiated into a fraternity. Its a new beginning, lets say. Its a moment of
some sort of strange, monstrous re-birth. Its literally being born-again
into policy, or into governance. But there was something going on before that. And that initiatory moment is double-edged. You are starting
something new, but you are also trying, in a radical, kind of brutal way
to put and end to something and the horrible part is its a moment of
colonisation: youre putting something to an end and youre also trying
at that very same moment to declare that it was never there. Not only
am I going to stop you from doing this shit, but Im going to convince
you that you were never doing it.
STEFANO: Yeah, thats right. So, its sort of within that context that
I think both of us pose the question thats important to us. In other
circumstances, Fred and I have talked about this by thinking about a
certain kind of song, a soul song that you might get in Curtis Mayfield or in Marvin Gaye, where somethings going on, lets call it the
experiment with/in the general antagonism, and then the song starts.
You can hear the audience, you can hear the crowd, and then he begins to sing or music begins to start. So, the thing that Im interested
in is, without calling something to order, how can you still sing? In
the sense that not calling something to order is different from saying
that theres nothing that you want to do with others, theres nothing
that you want to start with others. We have our own versions of insistence or persistence in study.
FRED: Form is not the eradication of the informal. Form is what
emerges from the informal. So, the classic example of that kind of
song that youre talking about, Stefano, is Whats Going On? by
Marvin Gaye and of course the title is already letting you know:
goddamn it, somethings going on! This song emerges out of the fact
that something already was going on. Then, from a certain limited
perspective, we recognize, there are these people milling around and
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talking and greeting one another and then, something that we recognize as music emerges from that. But then, if you think about it
for half-a-damn-second, you say, but the music was already playing. Music was already being made. So, what emerges is not music
in some general way, as opposed to the non-musical. What emerges
is a form, out of something that we call informality. The informal is
not the absence of form. Its the thing that gives form. The informal
is not formlessness. And what those folks are engaging in at the beginning of Whats Going On? is study. Now, when Marvin Gaye
starts singing, thats study too. Its not study that emerges out of the
absence of study. Its an extension of study. And black popular music
Im most familiar with things from the 1960s on is just replete with
that. That thing becomes something more than just what you would
call a device and its also very much bound up with the notion of
the live album. The point is that its more than just a device. Its more
than just a trope. Its almost like everybody has to, say, comb that moment into their recording practices, just to remind themselves, and to
let you know, that this is where it is that music comes from. It didnt
come from nowhere. If it came from nowhere, if it came from nothing, it is basically trying to let you know that you need a new theory
of nothing and a new theory of nowhere.
STEFANO: Yeah, and this is also all over rap music, which is always
FRED: I told you, this is how we do it. My kids listen to some shit,
and Im trying not to be that way, but sometimes Im like, let me play
yall some good music. If you listen to the Staple Singers Ill Take
You There, its got one little chorus, one little four-line quatrain, and
then the whole middle of the song is just Mavis Staples telling the
band to start playing. Little Davie [the bassist] we need you now.
Then, her father, the great guitarist Roebuck Pops Staples: shes like,
daddy, daddy. Then, the verse was like, somebody, play your piano.
Thats the whole middle of the song. Thats the heart of the song. Not
the damn lyrics. Its her just saying, play, and theyre already playing.
And thats not a call to order. Its an acknowledgement, and a celebration, of what was already happening.
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order, and more particularly about not issuing the call to order. Lets
take the album Nation Time by Joe McPhee as an example. In one
sense it seems very much that McPhee is issuing a call to order, haranguing the audience into a set piece of call and response: What
time is it? Nation time. But in another sense whatever order gets
set up through that call to order, if it is one, then quickly breaks down
or mutates into something else through collective improvisation.
Fred, this connects closely to how you describe blackness as something happening in the break but I was wondering how one could
at the same time be calling to order and calling to mutation, or to a
break, or perhaps to a different kind of order.
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there are indeed things that are not here. But I think the call, in the
way I would understand it, the call, as in the call and response, the
response is already there before the call goes out. Youre already in
something.
To me, the call is what these guys were trying to say when they said,
but these are biopolitical demands, or this is a biopolitical politics,
which is to say, its neither a politics of requesting something from authority nor of demanding something despite authority. Rather some
kind of demand was already being enacted, fulfilled in the call itself. I
dont think that was totally clear to me or maybe to some occupy people maybe to some it was scary when it was clear; it was certainly
scary to authority when it was clear. And it was, of course, most clear
not in the occupy movement but, for me, in the London riots, because
the London riots, which and Fred has written beautifully on them
elsewhere and here we talk about them as irruptions of logisticality,
that which gives rise to the capitalist science of logistics, and today in
rampant form. Whats interesting about these riotsm, and Ive talked
to kids about it, after the three days, and they all said the same thing:
for three days we ran London. For three days London was ours. For
three days it worked according to how we wanted it to work. And,
basically, they didnt demand anything. They just started. There was a
call: come out and lets just run the city for three days. Now, maybe
they didnt run it exactly in the way everybody would have run it if
the call was fuller or different. And, of course, those kids have all received incredibly ridiculous jail sentences and everything else. Occupy has been nothing compared to that in respect to vicious state
repression in the court system. I mean, not to minimise some of the
violence against occupy people in the US. The riots were really a place
where you saw this kind of call. So, to me its no surprise that the call
through social media was what they criminalised most quickly.
FRED: I want to say something else about the demand. I still kinda
want to hang on to that term. The reason I do is because, I certainly see the difference between request and call, I want to get back
into the history of the word demand, where it also means to make a
claim, and sometimes to make a legal claim and the whole notion
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multiplicity and the multivocality of the demand? This was something that was also happening at that same moment in the music, so
that the figure of the soloist was being displaced. Even if the soloist
was, in a certain sense, only temporarily occupying a certain kind of
sovereign position, the return to collective improvisational practices
was sort of saying, we are making a music which is complex enough
and rich enough so that when you listen to it you are hearing multiple
voices, multiply formed voices. We are sort of displacing the centrality
of the soloist. Or, another way to put it would be that, even within
the figure of the soloist itself, theres this exhaustion and augmentation of the instrument, this tingling of the saxophone and this is
something that you hear in McPhees playing on Nation Time. He
was playing harmonics on the horn, so that the horn itself becomes
something other than a single-line instrument; it becomes chordal,
social. And that chordal playing shows up for us aurally as screams,
as honks, as something that had been coded or denigrated as extramusical as noise rather than signal. So, what Im trying to do is to
consider this notion of the demand as an appeal, as a claim, where
youre not appealing to the state but appealing to one another. An appeal, in this delivery youre making all this sound, youre making all
this noise. Youre an ensemble, and thats bound up with that notion
of study and sociality that weve been talking about.
So, I want to say that I agree with everything you say about the call,
but I guess I want to maintain or keep that word demand, just because of the particular way that Fanon indexes it, because he talks
about it in relation to the settlers interested, regulative understanding of neurosis.
STEFANO: That part I like, but the part that Im concerned with in
Fanon is that the demand for him seems futuristic. And it seems
to me that, when we were looking at the Panthers again, one of the
things that seemed so cool about them is they had a revolutionary
program that was partly about preservation. So, it was like a revolution in the present of already-existing black life.
FRED: Look, heres the thing: youre right. I like the fact that Fanon
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the neurotic standpoint, in the neurotic habit, of the soloist. But the
soloist is not one. Just like it was always about more than the right
to vote or the tastiness of the water that comes from this, as opposed
to that, fountain.
STEFANO: And I think in part thats connected directly to being
FRED: Its just like the stuff you were talking about: in another version
of the shipped, of logisticality, Woody Guthrie is riding the blinds
with folks who are one anothers pillows. And you can segue from
that immediately to I aint got no home anymore in this world. And
you can segue from I aint got no home anymore in this world to like
Coltranes Ascension or Interstellar Space, in which the musical form is
all about the disruption, the making of new form, outside the notion
of some kind of necessary structural return to a tonic. So, theres no
tonal center. Theres no home like that. The improvisations are unmoored in this way. And obviously this is also something that plays
itself out in Arnold Schoenberg, or whatever. So, the point would be
that, like, recognizing that the most adventurous and experimental
aesthetics, where dissonance is emancipated, are hand-in-hand with
the most fucked up, brutal, horrific experience of being simultaneously held and abandoned.
139
his theory of the special antagonism that structures black life in the
administered world also offers this brilliant articulation of this desire
for home I dont want to be a cosmic hobo which is necessary to
any possible embrace of homelessness. Woody Guthrie was a cosmic
hobo, Coltrane was a cosmic hobo, so even if I could be something
other than a cosmic hobo, I think what Im gonna do is embrace
homelessness for the possibilities that it bears, hard as that is, hard
as they are. Homelessness is hard, no doubt about it. But, home is
harder. And its harder on you, and its harder on every-god-damnbody else too. I aint so concerned, necessarily, about the travails of the
settler. The horrible difficulties that the settler imposes upon himself
are not my first concern, though in the end they are a real thing. Its
the general imposition of severalty, to use Theodore Roosevelts evil
terms, that Im trying to think about and undermine. He knew that
possessive individualism that the self-possessed individual, was as
dangerous to Native Americans as a pox-infested blanket. Civilisation, or more precisely civil society, with all its transformative hostility, was mobilized in the service of extinction, of disappearance. The
shit is genocidal. Fuck a home in this world, if you think you have
one.
STEFANO: Just like the people we went to school with or
maybe some of your Duke students or indeed settlers of the
globe generally.
FRED: Yeah, well, the ones who happily claim and embrace their own
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killing you, too, however much more softly, you stupid motherfucker,
you know? But, that position in which you have no place, no home,
that youre literally off center, off the track, unlocatable, I think its
important. Again, I think that theres something to be gained from
that part of Fanons double alignment of the demand with neurosis.
Its sort of saying, basically, its like Malcolm X, when hed be talking
about the distinction between the house negro and the field negro.
And the primary distinction that hed make was that the field negro
would be saying, where can I get a better job than this? Where can
I get a better house than this? He was claiming the location that really wasnt his, but what he was really claiming was the possibility of
location. And Malcolms like, No! Ill be out in the field. Not only in
the hope of something more, something other, than what you think
you have but also because theres something in the field; that even in
deprivation, theres an opening.
STEFANO: Yeah, I think thats also something I felt again in these
London riots. Its always that stuff about, why are they fucking up
their own neighborhood? Of course part of it is they dont own those
neighborhoods. But part of it is also, like, cuz theres gotta be something better than home.
FRED: Its like that, what did that Home Secretary say? What are the
STEFANO: She doesnt know how close she was to the truth.
FRED: Shes ridiculous, and yet theres something deep and kind of
true about that. I think you can make a good case that human being
in the world is, and should be, sheer criminality. Which also, first and
foremost, implies that making laws is a criminal activity.
STEFANO: The jurisgenerative stuff...
FRED: Those kids were, basically, like, fuck this. And youre right, if
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FRED: His knee hasnt jerked in twelve years! Id love to see your knee
jerk!
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wont throw me in jail or doesnt throw people in jail all the time. I just
dont like to start from that position.
STEVPHEN: It sounds more like projecting sort of an accidental fet-
ish character of the state that sees it as whole and coordinated and, of
course, very sensible.
STEFANO: Yeah, and also, I think the fact that people work on an af-
fective state and there is a certain thing that goes on that doesnt
maybe go on in private production, because you have some notion
that youre producing the effect. Now, thats become more common
everywhere else. So, theres been a kind of way in which, well, there
used to be some idea that when youre working in productive industries youre producing stuff. Now of course everybody thinks theyre
producing effects everywhere theyre working. So, also, it seems to me
that a certain kind of distinction has broken down around that and
I think thats interesting. Also, Im not against the production of effects. I dont think that its bad that people should get together and
imagine that theyre producing something hard to see. Its just bad
that they happen to imagine nation-states.
I guess thats my position on James Scott [laughs]. You know, I get
enough shit for attacking James Scott. I really never give the guy a
thought! I used to get criticised all the time when the State Work book
came out, from my development studies friends because apparently
I called him an anti-communist, and that really made everybody
berserk. But I just meant in the technical sense that he was against
communism.
T HE U N D E R C O MM ONS
monolith but its very, very thoroughly aerated. There are all kinds of
little holes and tunnels and ditches and highways and byways through
the state that are being produced and maintained constantly by the
people who are also at the same time doing this labor that ends in the
production of the state. So, what is it that these folks are producing?
Scott seems to refer to a monolith that is unbroken by and in the very
process of its construction. Hes one of the ones who gets us back to
the point where we ask, what is it that we dont like about that monolith. Well, its coercive power or its power to police or its power to
make policy or to foster the making of policy or its power to govern
or to foster governance and governmentality. So, what is he talking
about? I give him credit, or I believe, however anti-communist he is, I
believe hes sincere in his antipathy towards the monolith. To the extent that it exists, I hate it, too.
But, then, there are other people on the left who have no antipathy
towards the state at all. And then I think they mean, its not some sort
of monolithic mode of existence that we are all captured by and contained within at the level of our own affective relations to one another
and our everyday practices because I think thats part of what Scott
means. But what theyre basically saying is, no, what Im interested
in is this thing that has a certain kind of coercive power, and rather
than that coercive power being granted to some other mug, I want it
to be granted to me because Ill do the right thing with it. And also
the main reason is I not only believe that I would do the right thing
with it but I also believe that the kinds of things that I want to do at
the level of scale can only be done by way of some sort of state or state
apparatuses. So, their ploy is: (a) Ill do it better and (b) Im thinking
about shit at the level of scale and youre just being silly and all you
care about is these four people that youre talking to right now. See?
STEFANO: I do see, and Im also interested in this question of scale,
because thats the side of the argument scale ends up on and who it
ends up on and with. But, one of the things Im interested in, in the
history of communism, lets say, is: under what circumstances could I
allow myself to be taken up and possessed by others, be in the hands
of others, give up anything like a kind of sovereign self-determination
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that I will vote on every decision, that I will oversee, that I will be like
Lenins inspectors, coming in to make sure the states doing what it
wants? What kind of communism could there be where I could just
allow some people to do some shit for me, at the level of scale, and at
the same time those people would also at other moments allow me
to be doing that kind of thing? So, in what ways are we practicing,
when were for a dispossession of ourselves and allowing ourselves to
be possessed in certain other ways, allowing ourselves to consent not
to be one, at a moment that also lets people act on us and through us,
and doesnt constantly require us re-constituting ourselves, which I
think is implied? And this is, I think, the anti-communism of Scott.
Scotts smallness is about self-determined autonomy. When youre
small and in resistance, youre always in control.
Now, its not that then instead we go for the state, because obviously
the state, despite the fact that, as I say, its not the thing he thinks it
is, but a whole series of different kinds of shit its effects are basically
bad in the end. But, Im interested in the way in which what were doing already is and can be completely complex, that it doesnt require
some other step and that we need to practice something else. Autonomists get this all the time in Europe: critics are like, oh, its fine, you
guys can go off and do that together, but weve got a hydro-electric
system to run here. And they often fall for that, and then sometimes
youll hear the autonomists saying, what would it mean to build autonomist institutions? And maybe I misunderstood them but I think
you dont need to build an autonomist institution. You need to elaborate the principle of autonomy in a way in which you become even
less of yourself; or you overflow yourself more than what youre doing
right now. You just need to do more of the shit that youre doing right
now, and that will produce the scale. So, thats whats interesting to
me. Im interested in the way in which a deepening of autonomy is a
deepening, not just among few people, not just that intensity which
I value, but also its a deepening of scale and the potentials of scale.
FRED: Yes, I agree. I bring up scale, not to denigrate scale, but
to say, we cant cede scale to the people who assume that scale
is inseparable from the state, or from what they mean by the
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rather than teaching them, and when I say for, I mean studying with
people in service of a project, which in this case I think we could just
say is more study. So, that with and for, the reason we move into more
autonomous situations is that it grows, and we spend less time in the
antagonism of within and against.
Some people love the productivity of the antagonism. Personally, I
dont say its not productive, but the further I get to the with and for,
the happier I am. But thats a challenge, to remember that and to do
it, and to learn how do it, if you spend a lot of time in the within and
against, as we did. Im only saying this to say, if I watch the migration
of the Queen Mary collective project from the within and against towards the with and for thats available to us by becoming this kind
of School for Study that were talking about now, we have to study
how to do that. We dont necessarily know how to do that, and were
still trying to figure out how to do that, because weve been inside so
much. Its not that you ever leave the within and against I dont care
how far you squat. Obviously, theres a shift in what becomes possible and where you can put your attention in different circumstances.
STEVPHEN: Perhaps thats why the work both of you did of
analyzing academic labor within a given position is necessary for the
leaving, so when you leave you dont bring some of the things with
you.
STEFANO: Well, at the personal level, and I started this morning say-
ing this, and I still think its true hours later, I had to go through that
academic labor shit, especially with Fred, in order to free myself in a
million different ways, including getting more into this autonomous
stuff. I only feel now that thats had a full effect, that I can think free
of all the shit that was in me through the labor process I was, and remain, immersed in. The first thing I made everyday when I went to
university was myself, and the university these days is not necessarily
the best place to make yourself.
FRED: I agree with that too. We were talking about how it was a way
for us to understand who we were, and what was going on where we
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were and to try to take more fully into account the necessity of understanding what your own conditions are. So, lets say that in some
ways, the academic labor writings represented attempts at location
and locating, mapping some sort of terrain that you were within. And
I think the later stuff is much more interested in trying to achieve a
kind of dislocation and a kind of dispersion and, therefore, it claims
a certain mobility. I agree with Stefano, well I dont know if we had
to do that, but thats where we got started. We could have got started
in another way.
STEFANO: Yeah, in a way, the undercommons is a kind of break piece,
between locating ourselves and dislocating ourselves. Whats so enduring for us about the undercommons concept is thats what it continues to do when it is encountered in new circumstances. People
always say, well, where the fuck is that. Even if you do that clever
Marxist thing like, oh its not a place, its a relation, people are like,
yeah, but wheres the relation. It has a continuing effect as a dislocation, and it always makes people feel a little uncomfortable about the
commons. For me it was like the first freight that we hopped.
FRED: Yeah, its a dislocation. As our old friend Bubba Lopez would
say, we started riding the blinds.
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the moral judgment on the man. But also the other kind of debt, you
know: I owe everything to my mother, I owe everything to my mentor.
That stuff also becomes very quickly oppressive and very moralistic.
There has to be a way in which there can be elaborations of unpayable debt that dont always return to an individualisation through the
family or an individualisation through the wage laborer, but instead
the debt becomes a principle of elaboration. And therefore its not
that you wouldnt owe people in something like an economy, or you
wouldnt owe your mother, but that the word owe would disappear
and it would become some other word, it would be a more generative word.
I know that too many Italian autonomists never payed sufficient attention to the black radical tradition, and I know that thats continued up to the present to some extent. What Im more interested in
right now is the opportunity to place this vital strand of European
experiment within a more global history. So, now certain autonomist
stuff is sort of popping up in India. If it comes to India as if it came
from Europe, as if it were an import rather than a version of something, then the first thing were going to lose is an entire history, that
I, for instance, dont know enough about, of autonomist thinking and
movement in India, from India. So, its not so much about giving
credit to something, as it is of seeing this or that instance of something much broader. Im not as interested in correcting genealogical
lines, as I am in seeing European autonomism as an instance of something, and others can put it in whatever global context they want but
for me its an instance of the black radical tradition, an general inheritance of the shipped, the impossible tradition of those without tradition, an experimental social poesis.
STEVPHEN: I was sort of asking, not to say oh well look whats missed,
how bad it is that theyve missed it, but more Im intrigued by the
particular ways of missing it. Autonomia seems to render blackness
in a very Leninist way. So, we care about Detroit and nowhere else.
STEFANO: Yeah. Well, in that sense it also has an unfortunate ten-
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its always trying to get rid of. It stands against vanguardism, but its
always about, whos really doing it and whos not really doing it? Its
still caught up with the idea that in order to be autonomous you need
to be doing politics, and then theres the persistent risk of a definition of whos doing politics and whos not thats always at work. This
is even in the Gambino pieces. For as good as they are, hes constantly
looking for where DuBois or Malcolm X intersect with real politics,
in my opinion. And yet as Matteo Pasquinelli points out, the impulse:
if difference, then resistance is at the core of Italian theory and at
is best this attention to what we would call the general antagonism
is what this tradition shares with the impossible but actually existing
tradition of black radical thought.
FRED: I defer to what Stefano said. I dont have that much to say
about it. Theres a very important, and lets call it righteous strain, of
Afro-American and Afro-Diasporic studies that we could place under the rubric of debt collection. And its basically like, we did this
and we did that, and you continue not to acknowledge it. You continue to mis-name it. You continue to violently misunderstand it. And
Im going to correct the record and collect this debt. And theres a
political component to it, too. Maybe thats partly what the logic of
reparations is about. Or even the I have a Dream speech, hes like
we came here today to cash a check. A promise was given. We came
to collect. Thats what King said. So, I dont disavow that rhetoric or
even that project. And, in many ways, Im a beneficiary of that project,
in ways that are totally undeniable and I dont want to deny.
I also think that that project is not the project of black radicalism
which is not about debt collection or reparation. Its about a complete
overturning again, as Fanon would say, and others have said. If thats
your concern, if thats your project, the mechanisms of debt collection
become less urgent. Or they become something that one is concerned
about, but in a different way. Like, I will note the debt, and I will note
the brutal and venal and vicious way in which the debt is unacknowledged. When we talk about debt, to talk about the unpayability of
debt is not to fail to acknowledge the debt. But, certain mugs just refuse even to acknowledge the debt. And I think a whole lot of what
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people want when they want reparations is in fact an acknowledgment, and they want an acknowledgement of the debt because it constitutes something like a form of recognition, and that becomes very
problematic because the form of recognition that they want is within
an already existing system. They want to be recognized by sovereignty
as sovereign, in a certain sense. So, basically, I can read a big old book
on the history of Western Marxism, and I can be alternatively pissed
off about the way that its author can write that history without writing about CLR James. Im alternatively pissed off, bemused, feel pity
for his ignorant ass, whatever. You start to feel pity for his ignorant
butt, but then you also understand the deep structural connections
between ignorance and arrogance. And you cant feel sorry for an ignorant motherfucker if hes also an arrogant motherfucker, so then
you get mad again. You stay mad, actually. But this is not a personal
injury. You have to step to it in a different way.
So, basically, Im with Stefano on this, which is that I feel like I want
to be part of another project. Which is to say Im not acceding to the
fact; its not like Im just trying to turn my eye from it. I dont want
to accept in silence without protest all the different forms of inequality and exploitation that emerge as a function of the theft and of the
failure to acknowledge the debt. Its not just that Im pissed off that
Willie Dixon never got paid the way he was supposed to get paid for
all them songs that Plant and Jimmy Page stole, but also that I want
him or his locked-up grandson to get the damn money. Im not sitting
here saying, Im above them getting the money. I dont believe that
what has happened in general is reparable, but if the United States
finally decided to write me a check, I would cash the check and put
it in the bank or go buy something stupid with it, a Rolls Royce or
a Bentley, something that will really make George Stephanopoulos
mad. I would accept the check, and be pissed off that it aint as much
as it should be. But I also know that what it is that is supposed to be
repaired is irreparable. It cant be repaired. The only thing we can do is
tear this shit down completely and build something new.
So, Im interested in the autonomist tradition insofar as theyve got
something useful to say about the possibility and practicality of
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STEFANO: For me, when I use the term abolition, I mean it precisely in the opposite way. For me, abolition is both about a kind of
acknowledgement that, as Fred says, theres no repairing or paying
back the debt, so you couldnt really have anything like an abolition
of debt. I mean, you could have debt forgiveness, but I would never
use the term abolition for that meaning. And, secondly, theres a
whole history of debt that is not that history of debt, which doesnt
need to be forgiven, but needs to become activated as a principle of
social life. It can become, and already is in many instances activated
as something which, precisely as something that doesnt resolve itself into creditor and debtor, allows us to say, I dont really know
where I start and where I end. This is even my point around the
debt between a parent and a child. If its really a debt, then that debt
that you have is for more than you, its not just for you, it passes
through you, but it was a generative form of affect between two beings that is precisely valuable because it continues in certain kinds
of ways. Theres a whole history there, and what abolition means in
that case is the abolition of something like credit or measurability
or attribution, in a certain way.
FRED: I think this is where that distinction Stefano made between
credit and debt is crucial. I think what people may mean, when they
talk about the abolition of debt, is the abolition of credit. But they
probably dont even really mean that. What they probably technically mean is forgiveness, which is to say, well forgive this loan. Now,
if you get in debt again, were gonna want to get paid, goddamnit.
Whereas, what Stefano is talking about, I think and I concur, is an
abolition of credit, of the system of credit, which is to say, maybe its
an abolition of accounting. It says that when we start to talk about
our common resources, when we talk about what Marx means by
wealth the division of it, the accumulation of it, the privatization
of it, and the accounting of it all of that shit should be abolished. I
mean, you cant count how much we owe one another. Its not countable. It doesnt even work that way. Matter of fact, its so radical that
it probably destabilizes the very social form or idea of one another.
But, thats what douard Glissant is leading us towards when he talks
about what it is to consent not to be a single being. And if you think
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T HE U N D E R C O MM ONS
155
What is it about adults thats so distasteful? You see a kid on the street
or in your house, you know youre supposed to feed them, right? And
then that same kid hits eighteen and all of a sudden you say, Im not
feeding you. Whats so vulgar and gross and smelly and distasteful
about the average adult that you wouldnt just assume that he should
get something to eat? I mean, youve gotta be sick to come up with
something like that. I mean, whos the worst person in the world?
Even he should have something to eat.
STEFANO: Given that, when you start to talk about this other kind
T HE U N D E R C O MM ONS
FRED: Yep, most of the while, when you had some money, it wouldnt
be a discussion. You would just say, here put some gas in the car, and
get out, leaving some money on the seat.
the freedom, rather than the other way around, and this is the only
way it could be when we think of ability and need freed of the standpoint and then this is not a distributional politics anymore but an experiment in letting yourself discover new needs in your abilities and
new abilities in your needs in the rhythm of, not against, the general
antagonism, performed between the two and amongst the many.
FRED: Yeah, and this is why, for me, see I was looking at that, and it
was illogical, if you want to call it that, but it was also performative.
For me, Im not saying thats the only form that study takes, but any
notion of study that doesnt acknowledge that form of it is not the
study that Im interested in.
TH E G ENE RAL ANTAGONI S M
157
STEFANO: Where you find the abolition of credit you find study.
But you cant call for the abolition of credit like you hear calls for
the abolition of debt because the call to abolish credit is already
always going all, it is a call that enacts, that is enacted. In other words, we dont need anything to get in debt together. We have
already a superabundance of mutual debt we dont want pay, we
dont want to pay, so what why would we call for anything? But we
can join in this plenitude and its everyday performance. Moreover
by joining perhaps we avoid some of what credit brings and what
calls for debt forgiveness bring as unwanted results, from uplift
to settlement.
FRED: Yeah, I mean, I love Fanon, but blackness isnt some thing that
he thought of in an apartment with the others who had just arrived
at their homelessness or, deeper still, at some knowledge of it. Now,
some folks say that blackness is best understood not as a specific set
of practices in which the people who are called black engage, because
we have to account for the people who are called black but who no
longer, or never did, engage in those practices; rather, blackness, they
argue, is a project carried out by people whom we call intellectuals insofar as they refute, by way of essentially Hegelian protocols, some essentially Hegelian relegation to the zone in which all one can do is to
engage in that specific set of authentic practices which have become,
finally, nothing other than a mark of deprivation. My response is, no,
the thing about blackness is that its broad enough and open enough
to encompass, but without enclosing, all of those things and to suggest that somehow intellectual life exists on some scale on the other
side of the so-called authentic is problematic anyway. Because I figure
that performances of a certain mode of sociality also already imply
the ongoing production of the theory of sociality. I mean, Im into
that, just like Im into horny old Socrates when he sees some beautiful young boys he just wants to get next to, and they say, man, come
to the palestra because we need to talk about friendship, and hes
like, oh yeah, Ill come. Thats good too, that lysis that never seems
to come to an end total, complete, but in an unexplained or undecidable completion. What they talk about, that was good too. Theres
a bunch of different possible places from which one might approach a
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T HE U N D E R C O MM ONS
critique of the administered world, or some knowledge of the administered self, and one of them is Papas skylark.
159
REFERENCES
On the concept of study, we would like to thank Marc Bousquet and the editors
For the chapter on planning and policy, we would like to thank the organizers
and participants of the of the 2012 Winter Sessions at the Performing Arts
Forum in St Erme, France for discussions leading to revision of this piece, and
especially Jan Ritsema and Marten Spngberg.
For the chapter on logistics, we would like to point readers to the groundbreak-
ing work of Ned Rossiter and his colleagues on the Transit Labour project:
www.transitlabour.asia.
POLITICS SURROUNDED
REF ERENC ES
163
On questions of blackness and style see Thelma Golden, Freestyle (New York:
Studio Museum in Harlem, 2001) as well as its anticipatory rebuttal, Amiri
Baraka & Fundi, In Our Terribleness: Some Elements and Meaning in Black Style
(New York, Bobbs-Merrill, 1970).
Jacques Lacan, The Mirror Stage as Formative of the Function of the I, crits:
A Selection, trans. Alan Sheridan (New York: W. W. Norton & Company, 1977)
4 and Hussein Abdilahi Bulhan, Frantz Fanon and the Psychology of Oppression
(New York: Plenum Press, 1985) 155-77.
Michel Foucault, The History of Sexuality, Volume I: An Introduction. trans. Robert Hurley (New York: Vintage Books, 1978) 143.
Kara Keeling, The Witchs Flight: The Cinematic, The Black Femme, and the Image
of Common Sense (Durham: Duke University Press, 2007).
Cornel West, Reconstructing the American Left: The Challenge of Jesse Jackson, in Social Text No. 11, 1984-1985, No. 11, p. 3-19.
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Omiseeke Natasha Tinsley 2008 Black Atlantic, Queer Atlantic: queer imaginings of the middle passage GLQ 14:2 3.
REF ERENC ES
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MINOR COMPOSITIONS
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Insurrectionary Imagination
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