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Title: This is Not a Program
Author: Tiqqun
Date: 2001
Language: en
Topics: insurrectionist, communism
Source: Scanned from Original on 2013-01-22.

Tiqqun

This is Not a Program

Redefine historical conflict

I don’t believe that ordinary people think that in the short run there

is any risk of a sudden, violent dissolution of the state, of open civil

war. What is gaining ground instead is the idea of latent civil war, to

borrow a journalistic expression, the idea of a civil war of position

that would strip the state of all legitimacy.”

(Terrorisme et dimocratie, Editions Sociales, 1978)

Once again, blind experimentation, with no protocol or almost none. (We

have been left so little; this may be our chance.) Once again, direct

action, sheer destruction, out-and-out confrontation, the refusal of any

kind of mediation: those who don’t refuse to understand will get no

explanation from us. Again, the desire, the plane of consistency of

everything that several decades of counterrevolution have repressed.

Again, all this: autonomy, punk, riot, orgy, but original, mature,

thought out, clear of the petty convolutions of the new.

Through arrogance, “international police” operations, and communiques

declaring permanent victory, a world presented as the only world

possible, as the crowning achievement of civilization, has finally been

made thoroughly abominable. A world which believed it had completely

insulated itself has discovered evil at its core, among its children. A

world which celebrated a common new year as a change of millennium has

begun to fear for its millennium. A world long settled in the house of

catastrophe now warily grasps that the fall of the “socialist bloc”

didn’t portend its triumph but rather its own ineluctable collapse. A

world gorged with the clamors of the end of history, the American

century, and the failure of communism is now going to have to pay for

its frivolity.

In the present paradoxical situation, this world-that is to say,

essentially, its police—has constructed for itself a fitting, and

fittingly extravagant, enemy. It talks of a Black Bloc, of a “traveling

anarchist circus,” of a vast conspiracy against civilization. One is

reminded of Von Salomon’s Germany in The Outlaws, a Germany obsessed by

the fantasy of a secret organization, the O.C., “which spreads like a

cloud loaded with gas” and to which THEY attribute all the dazzling

confusion of a reality given over to civil war. “A bad conscience tries

to exorcise the power that threatens it. It creates a bogey that it can

make faces at and thinks safety is thereby assured.” That sounds about

right, doesn’t it?

Despite the flights of fancy of the imperial police, current events have

no strategic legibility. They have no strategic legibility because if

they did that would imply something common, something minimally common

between us. And that-a common-makes everyone afraid, it makes Bloom4

turn away, it stuns and strikes dumb because it restores something

unequivocal to the very heart of our suspended lives. We have become

accustomed to contracts for everything. We have avoided everything

resembling a pact because a pact cannot be rescinded; it is either

respected or broken. And in the end that is the hardest thing to

understand: that the effect of a negation depends on the positivity of a

common, that our way of saying “I” determines the force with which we

say “no.” Often we are surprised by the break in historical

transmission, a break arising from the facts that for at least fifty

years no “parent” has been able to talk about his life to “his”

children, to turn his life into history [histoire], a history that isn’t

simply a discontinuum colored with pathetic anecdotes. What has in fact

been lost is the ability to establish a communicable relationship

between our history and history as such. At the heart of all this is the

belief that by renouncing every singular existence, by surrendering all

purpose, we might finally get a little peace. Blooms believed that it

was enough to abandon the battlefield for the war to end. But nothing

like that happened. War didn’t stop and those who have refused as much

now find themselves a bit more disarmed, a bit more disfigured, than the

rest. This is the source of the resentments that now roil in Blooms’

bowls and from which springs the insatiable desire to see heads roll, to

finger the guilty, to secure a kind of general repentance for all of

history past. A redefinition of historical conflict is needed, not

intellectually: vitally.

I say redefinition because a definition of historical conflict precedes

us in which every existence in the pre-imperial period had its part: the

class struggle. That definition no longer holds. It condemns us to

paralysis, bad faith, and empty talk. No war can now be waged, no life

lived, in this straightjacket from another age. To continue the struggle

today, we will have to scrap the notion of class and with it the whole

entourage of certified origins, reassuring sociologisms, identity

prostheses. The notion of class is only good for holding like a little

bedpan the neuroses, separa tion, and perpetual recrimination in which

THEY have taken such morbid delight in France, in every segment of

society, for such a long time. Historical conflict no longer opposes two

massive molar heaps, two classes-the exploited and the exploiters, the

dominant and dominated, managers and workers among which, in each

individual case, one could differentiate. The front line no longer cuts

through the middle of society; it now runs through the middle of each of

us, between what makes us a citizen, our predicates, and all the rest.

It is thus in each of us that war is being waged between imperial

socialization and that which already eludes it. A revolutionary process

can be set in motion from any point of the biopolitical fabric, from any

singular situation, by exposing, even breaking, the line of flight that

traverses it. Insofar as such processes, such ruptures, occur, one plane

of consistency is common to all of them: that of anti-imperial

subversion. “The generality of the struggle specifically derives from

the system of power itself, from all the forms in which power is

exercised and applied.” We have called this plane of consistency the

Imaginary Party, so that in its very name the artifice of its nominal

and a fortiori p olitical representation is clear. Like every plane of

consistency the Imaginary Party is at once already present and yet to be

built. Building the Party no longer means building a total organization

within which all ethical differences might be set aside for the sake of

a common struggle; today, building the Party means establishing forms-of

life in their difference, intensifying, complicating relations between

them, developing as subtly as possible civil war between us. Because the

most formidable stratagem of Empire lies in its throwing everything that

opposes it into one ugly heap-of “barbarism,” “sects,” “terrorism,” or

“conflicting extremisms” fighting against Empire essentially means never

confusing the conservative segments of the Imaginary Party-libertarian

militias, right-wing anarchists, insurrectionary fascists, Qutbist

jihadists, ruralist militants-and its revolutionary-experimental

segments. Building the Party must therefore no longer be thought of in

terms of organization but in terms of circulation. In other words, if

there is still a “problem of organization,” the problem is organizing

the circulation within the Party. For only the continuation and

intensification of encounters between us can further the process of

ethical polarization, can further the building of the Party.

It is true that a passion for history is generally the fate of bodies

incapable of living the present. Nonetheless, I don’t consider it off

topic to return to the aporias of the cycle of struggle initiated in the

early 1960s now that another cycle has begun. In the pages that follow,

numerous references will be made to 1970s Italy. This afraid of going is

not an arbitrary choice. If I weren’t afraid of going on too long, I

would easily show how what was then at stake in the starkest and most

brutal terms largely remains so for us, although roday’s climate is, for

the time being, less extreme. As Guattari wrote in 1978: “Rather than

consider Italy as a special case, captivating but all things considered

aberrant, shouldn’t we in fact seek to shed light on the other,

apparently more stable, social, political, and economic situations

originating in more secure state power through a reading of the tensions

currently at work in that country?” 1970s Italy remains, in every

respect, the insurrectional moment closest to us. We must start there,

not in order to write the history of a past movement, but to hone the

weapons for the war currently taking place.

Free one self from mortification

Those of us who provisionally operate in France don’t have it easy. It

would be absurd to deny that the conditions in which we operate are

determined, and even bloody well determined. Beyond the fanaticism for

separation which sovereign state education has engrained in bodies and

which makes school the shameful utopia hammered into every French skull,

there is this distrust, this impossible to-shake distrust of life, of

everything that exists unapologetically. And there is the retreat from

the world-into art, philosophy, the home, food, spirituality,

critique-as the exclusive and impracticable line of flight on which the

thickening flows of local mortification feed. An umbilical retreat that

calls for the omnipresence of the French state, that despotic

schoolmaster which now seems even to govern “citizen” protests. Thus the

great din of spineless, crippled, and twisted French minds, which never

stop whirling round within themselves, every second feeling more

threatened sensing that something might wake them from their complacent

misery.

Nearly everywhere in the world debilitated bodies have some historical

icon of resentment on which to ding, some proud fascistoid movement that

has decked out in grand style the coat of arms of the reaction.

Nothing doing in France. French conservatism has never had any style,

because it is a bourgeois conservatism, a gut conservatism. That it has

finally risen to the rank of pathological reflexivity changes nothing.

It isn’t driven by its love for a dying world, but by its terror of

experimentation, of life, of life-experimentation. This conservatism,

the ethical substratum of specifically French bodies, takes precedence

over any kind of political position, over any kind of discourse. It

establishes the existential continuity, a declared as’ much as hidden

continuity, that ensures that Bove, the 17^(th) arrondissement

bourgeois, the pencil pusher of the Enc yclopedie des Nuisances, and the

provincial notable all belong to the same party. It matters little,

then, that the bodies in question voice reservations about the existing

order; the same passion for origins, forests, pastures, and village life

is currently on display in opposition to worldwide financial

speculation, and tomorrow it will stifle even the smallest movement for

revolutionary deterritorialization. Regardless of where, those who speak

solely from the gur exhale the same smell of shit.

Of course, France wouldn’t be the country of world citizenism (no doubt

in a not-too-distant future Le Monde Diplomatique will be translated

into more languages than Capital), the ridiculous epicenter of phobic

opposition that claims to challenge the Market in the name of the State,

had THEY not managed to make themselves so utterly impervious to all

that is politically actual, and particularly impervious to 1970s Italy.

From Paris to Porto Alegre, in country after country, the global

expansion of ATTAC bears witness to this Bloomesque craze for quitting

the world.

Creeping May versus Triumphant May

’77 wasn’t like ’68. ’68 was anti-establishment, ’77 was radically

alternative. This is why the “official” version portrays ’68 as good and

’77 as bad; in fact, ’68 was co-opted whereas ’77 was annihilated. This

is why ’77, unlike ’68, could never make for an easy object of

celebration.”

(Nanni Balestrini, Primo Moroni, L’orda d’oro)

On several occasions over the course of the 19705 the insurrectionary

situation in Italy threatened to spread to France. It would last more

than ten years and THEY would finally put an end to it with th arrest of

more than 4,000 people. First, there were the wildcat strikes during the

“Hot Autumn” (1969), which Empire quashed in the Piazza Fontana bombing

massacre. The French, whose “working class took up the red flag of

proletarian revolution from the students’ delicate hands” only in order

to sign the Grenelle Accords, couldn’t believe that a movement

originating in the universities could reach all the way to the

factories. With all the bitterness of their abstract relationship with

the working class, they felt deeply offended because their May came out

sullied as a result. So they called the Italian situation “creeping

May.”

Ten years later, at a time when we were already happy to celebrate the

memory of the French May and at a time when its most resolute actors had

already quietly found jobs within Republican institutions, new rumblings

again came from Italy. These were more obscure, both because pacified

French minds were already at a loss to understand much about a war in

which they had, nevertheless, been engaged and because contradictory

rumors sometimes mentioned prison revolts, sometimes an armed

counterculture, sometimes the Red Brigades (BR), among all the other

things that were a bit too physical for THEM to understand in France. We

pricked up our ears, just out of curiosity, then we turned back to our

petty concerns, telling ourselves that those Italians sure were naive to

continue the revolt when we had already moved on to commemoration.

THEY settled back into denunciations of the gulag, the “crimes of

communism,” and other delights of the “New Philosophy.” THEY thereby

avoided seeing that the Italians were revolting against what May ’68 had

become, for example, in France. Grasping that the movement in Italy

“challenged the profs who gloried in their May-’68 past, because they

were in reality the most fervent champions of social- democratic

standardization” (Tutto Citta 77)-that surely would have given the

French an unpleasant taste of immediate history. Honor intact, THEY

therefore became all the more certain of a “creeping May,” thanks to

which THEY could pack away the Movement of ’77 with the souvenirs of

another age, a movement from which everything is no less still to come.

Kojeve, who was unmatched in cutting to the heart of the matter, offered

a nice turn of phrase to put the French May to rest. During a meeting at

the OECD a few days before he died of a heart attack, he observed of the

“events”: “There were no deaths. Nothing happened.” Naturally, a bit

more was needed to inter Italy’s creeping May. Then another Hegelian

surfaced who had acquired no less a reputation than the first but

through different means. He said: “Listen, listen, nothing happened in

Italy. Just some dead-enders manipulated by the state who wanted to

terrorize the population by kidnapping some politicians and killing some

judges. As you can see for yourselves, nothing exceptional.” In this

way, thanks to Guy Debord’s shrewd intervention, on this side of the

Alps we have never known that something happened in Italy in the 1970s.

To this day, French luminaries have accordingly confined themselves to

platonic speculations concerning the manipulation of the BR by this or

that state service and the Piazza Fontana massacre. If Debord was an

execrable middleman for all that was explosive in the Italian situation,

he nonetheless introduced France to the favorite sport of Italian

journalism: retrology. For the Italians, retrology-a discipline whose

first axiom might be “the truth is elsewhere”-refers to this paranoid

game of mirrors played by those who no longer believe in any event, in

any vital phenomenon, and who, consequently, that is, as a consequence

of their illness, must always imagine someone or some group hidden

behind what happens-the P2 Lodge, the CIA, Mossad, or even they

themselves . The winner is the one who has given his little playmates

the best reasons to doubt reality.

It is thus easier to understand why the French speak of a “creeping May”

when it comes to Italy. have the proud, public May, the state May.

In Paris May 68 has served as the symbol of ’60s and 70s world political

antagonism to the exact extent that the reality of this antagonism lies

elsewhere.

No effort was spared, however, in transmitting to the French a bit of

the Italian insurrection; there were A Thousand Plateaus and Molecular

Revolution, there were Autonomy and the “squat” movement, but nothing

had enough firepower to break through the wall of lies of the French

spirit. Nothing that THEY can claim not to have foreseen. Instead, THEY

prefer to chatter on about the Republic, Education, Social Security,

Culture, Modernity and Social Relations, Suburban Unrest, Philosophy,

and the Public Sector.

And this is still what THEY chatter on about just as the imperial

services resurrect Italy’s “strategy of tension.” Clearly, there is an

elephant missing from the glassworks. Someone to state the obvious, to

come out with it somewhat coarsely and once and for a even if it means

smashing up the place a bit.

Here I would like to speak to the “comrades,” among others, to those

with whom I can share the party. I am a little fed up with the

comfortable theoretical backwardness of the French ultra-left. I am fed

up with hearing the same fake debates with their rhetorical sub-Marxism:

spontaneity or organization, communism or anarchism, the human community

or unruly individuality. There are still Bordigists, Maoists, and

councilists in France. Not to mention the periodic Trotskyist revivals

and Situationist folklore.

The Imaginary Party and the Workers’ Movement

What was happening to the movement was clear: the union and the PCI came

down on us like the police, like f ascists. It was clear then that there

was an irreparable divide between them and us. It was clear from then on

that the PCI would no longer be entitled to speak within the movement.”

(A witness to the dashes at the University of Rome on February 17, 1977,

quoted in L’Onia d’aro.)

In his final book, Mario Tronti observes that “the workers’ movement

wasn’t defeated by capitalism; the workers’ movement was defeated by

democracy.” But democracy didn’t defeat the workers’ movement as if the

workers’ movement were a kind of foreign creature: it defeated it as its

internal limit. The working class was only temporarily the privileged

site of the proletariat, of the proletariat as “a class of civil society

which is not a class of civil society,” as “an estate that is the

dissolution of all estates” (Marx). Starting in the interwar period the

proletariat began to definitively surpass the working class to the point

that the most advanced segments of the Imaginary Party began to

recognize in it, in its fundamental laborism, in its supposed “values,”

in its classist self-satisfaction, in short: in its class-being, the

equivalent of the class-being of the bourgeoisie, its most formidable

enemy and the most powerful vector for integration into the society of

Capital. From then on the Imaginary Party would be the form in which the

proletariat would appear.

In all Western countries ’68 marks the meeting and collision of the old

workers’ movement-fundamentally socialist and senescent-with the first

constituted segments of the Imaginary Party. When two bodies collide the

direction that results depends on the inertia and mass of each. The same

thing happened in every country. Where the workers’ movement was still

strong, as in Italy and France, the meager detachments of the Imaginary

Party slipped into its motheaten forms, aping its language and methods.

We then see the revival of militant practices of the “Third

International” type; it ushered in groupuscular hysteria and

neutralization via political abstraction. It was the short-lived triumph

of Maoism and Trotskyism in France (the GP, PC-MLF, UJC-ML, JCR, Parti

des Travailleurs, etc.), of the partitini (Lotta continua, Avanguardia

Operaia, MLS, Potere Operaio, Manifesto) and other extra-parliamentary

groups in Italy. Where the workers’ movement had long been eliminated,

as in the United States or Germany, there was an immediate move from

student revolt to armed struggle, a move during which the use of the

Imaginary Party’s practices and tactics was often veiled in socialist or

even Third-Worldist rhetoric. Hence, in Germany, the Movement 2 June,

the Red Army Faction (RAF), the Rote Zellen, and in the United States,

the Black Panther Party, the Weather Underground, the Diggers or the

Manson Family, were the emblems of a prodigious movement of internal

defection.

The particularity of Italy in this context is that the Imaginary Party,

although merged overwhelmingly with the socialist structures of the

partitini, still found the strength to destroy them. Four years after

’68 had revealed the “crisis of hegemony of the workers’ movement” (R.

Rossanda), the cauldron finally boiled over in 1973, leading to the

first significant uprising of the Imaginary Party in a key area of

Empire: the Movement of ’77.

The workers’ movement was beaten by democracy, that is, nothing to come

out of this tradition can counter the new configuration of hostilities.

On the contrary. When the host is is no longer a portion of society- the

bourgeoisie-but the society as such, the society as power, and when,

therefore, we find ourselves fighting not against classical tyrannies

but against biopolitical democracies, we know that every weapon, just

like every strategy, must be reinvented. The hostis is Empire, and, for

Empire, we are the Imaginary Party.

Crush Socialism!

You’re not from the castle, you’re not from the village, you’re nothing.

(Franz Kafka, The Castle)

The revolutionary element is the proletariat, the rabble. The

proletariat is not a class. As the Germans of the nineteenth century

still recognized, es gibt Pabel in allen Standen, there is a rabble in

all classes. “Poverty in itself does not reduce people to a rabble; a

rabble is created only by the disposition associated with poverty, by

inward rebellion against the rich, against society, the government, etc.

It also follows that those who are dependent on contingency become

frivolous and lazy, like the lazzaroni of Naples, for example” (Hegel,

Elements ofthe Philosophy ofRight, addition to § 244). Every time that

it has attempted to define itself as a class, the proletariat has lost

itself, taken the dominant class, the bourgeoisie, for a model. As a

non-class, the proletariat is not the opposite of the bourgeoisie but of

the petite bourgeoisie. Whereas the petty bourgeois believes himself

capable of mastering the game of society, persuaded that he will come

through all right individually, the proletariat knows that its fate

hangs on its cooperating with its own kind, that it needs the latter in

order to persist in being, in short: that its individual existence is

fundamentally collective. In other words: the proletariat is that which

experiences itself as a form-of life. It is communist or nothing.

In every age the form in which the proletariat appears is redefined

according to the overall configuration of hostilities. The most

regrettable confus ion in this regard concerns the “working class.” As

such, the working class has always been hostile to the revolutionary

movement, to communism. It wasn’t socialist by chance but socialist in

essence. If we except the plebian elements, that is, specifically, what

it was unable to recognize as a worker, the workers’ movement has

throughout its existence coincided with the progressive elements of

capitalism. From February 1848 to the Commune and the autogestionary

utopias of the 1970s, it has only ever demanded, for its most radical

elements, the right of the working class to manage Capital for itself In

reality, the proletariat has only ever worked for the expansion of the

human basis of Capital. The so-called “socialist” regimes have carried

out its program perfectly: integrating everyone into capitalist

relations of production and incorporating each person into the process

of valorization. Their collapse, conversely, has but shown the

impossibility of a total capitalist system. It has thus been by way of

social struggles and not against them that Capital has taken hold of

humanity, that humanity has in fact reappropriated it to become,

strictly speaking, the people of Capital. The workers’ movement was

therefore essentially a social movement, and it is as such that it has

survived. In May 2001 a little tyrant from the Italian Tute Bianche came

to explain to the young imbeciles of “Socialisme par en bas” how to

speak convincingly to power, how to sneak through the backdoor into the

sticky game of classical politics. He explained the Tute bianche

“approach” like this: “To us, the Tute Bianche symbolize all the

subjects that have been absent from institutional politics, all those

who aren’t represented: illegal immigrants, young people, precarious

workers, drug addicts, the homeless, the excluded. What we want is to

give a voice to people who have none.” Today’s social movement, with its

neo-trade- unionists, its informal activists, its spectacular spokesmen,

its nebulous Stalinism, and its micro-politicians, is in this the heir

of the workers’ movement: it uses the inclusion of workers in the

process of reformed valorization as a bargaining chip with the

conservative agents of Capital. In exchange for doubtful institutional

recognition-doubtful because of the logical impossibility of

representing the unrepresentable, the proletariat- the workers’ movement

and then the social movement have promised Capital to maintain social

peace. When, after Gothenburg, one of its sterile muses Susan George

denounces the “rioters “ whose methods “are as undemocratic as the

institutions they mean to protest”; when in Genoa Tute Bianche deliver

up to the cops supposed members of nonexistent “Black Blocs”-which they

paradoxically decry as being in infiltrated by the very same police—the

representatives of the social movement have never failed to remind me of

the reaction of the Italian workers’ party when confronted with the

Movement of ’77. “The popular masses ,” reads the report Paolo Bufalini

presented to the PCI Central Committee on April 18, 1978, “all citizens

of democratic and civic feeling will continue their efforts to provide

valuable assistance to the forces of order and to the officers and

soldiers involved in the fight against terrorism. The priority is to

isolate, both politically and morally, the red brigatisti, as well as

their sympathizers and supporters , in order to strip them of any kind

of alibi, of all external cooperation and support. They must be

completely cut off and left like fish out of water, which is no small

task when you consider how many people must be involved in these

criminal activities.” Because no one is more interested than the social

movement in maintaining order, it was, is, and will be on the

avant-garde of the war waged against the proletariat. From now on:

against the Imaginary Party.

The history of Italy’s creeping May demonstrates better than anything

how the workers’ movement has always been the vehicle for

Capital-Utopia, a “community of work in which there are only producers,

with no idle or homeless, and which would manage capital without crises

and without inequality, capital having in this way become The Society”

(Philippe Riviale, La ballade du temps passe). Contrary to what the

phrase suggests, creeping May was in no way a continuous process

stretched out over ten years; it was rather an often cacophonous chorus

of local revolutionary processes, moving, town by town, according to a

distinctive rhythm marked by interruptions and resumptions, stases and

accelerations, and each one reacting to the other. On common consensus a

decisive rupture occurred , however, when the PCI adopted its politics

of Historic Compromise in 1973. The preceding period, from 1968 to 1973,

had been marked by the struggle between the PCI and extra-parliamentary

groups for hegemony over the new social antagonisms. Elsewhere this had

led to the success of the “second” or “new” left. The focus at the time

was on what THEY called a “political solution,” that is, the

transformation of concrete struggles into alternative, more inclusive

management of the capitalist state; struggles which the PCI at first

considered favorably, and even encouraged here and there, since they

helped enhance its contractual power. But starting in 1972 the new cycle

of struggle began to run out of steam worldwide. It then became urgent

for the PCI to cash in on a potential for social agitation

whose price was in free-fall. Moreover, the lesson of Chili- where a

socialist party whose rise to power in short order ended in a remote-

controlled imperial putsch-tended to dissuade the PCl from going it

alone in its bid for pol iti cal hegemony. That was when the PCl laid

out the terms for the Historic Compromise.

With the workers’ party joining the party of order and the subsequent

end of that sphere of representation, all political mediation

disappeared. The Movement was isolated, forced to develop its own

position from a non-class-based perspective; the extra-parliamentary

groups and their phraseology was abruptly dropped; under the paradoxical

effect of the watchword “des agregazione” the Imaginary Party began to

form a plane of consistency. At each new stage of the revolutionary

process it logically came up against the most resolute of its

adversaries, the PCl. Thus the most intense confrontations of the

Movement of ’77- whether in Bologna or at the University of Rome between

Autonomists and the Metropolitan Indians on one side and the head of the

CGIL’s, Luciano Lama’s, stewards and the police on the other-would pit

the Imaginary Party against the workers’ party; and later on it was

naturally the “red judges” who launched the “anti-terrorist” legal

offensive and its series of police sweeps in 1979–1980. This is where

one must look to find the origin of the “ citizens” discourse currently

promulgated in France as well as its offensive strategic function; this

is the context in which it must be assessed. “It is utterly clear,”

wrote PCl members at the time, “that the terrorists and militants of

subversion intend to thwart the workers ’ progressive march towards

political leadership of the country, to attack the strategy of an

expansion of democracy and the participation of the popular masses, to

challenge the decisions of the working class in order to drag it into

direct confrontation and, tragically, into ripping up the democratic

fabric of society. If large n umbers mobilize in this country, if

democratic forces intensify their unified action, if the government can

give firm direction to state institutions that have been appropriately

reformed and made more effective, terrorism and subversion will be

isolated and vanquished and democracy will flourish in a thoroughly

modernized state” (Terrorisme et democratie). The call to denounce this

or that person as a terrorist was thus the call to differentiate oneself

from oneself as capable of violence, to project far from oneself one’s

latent warlike tendency, to introduce in oneself the economic

disjunction that makes us a political subject, a citizen. It was

therefore in still very relevant terms that Giorgio Amendola, then a PCl

senior deputy, in due course attacked the Movement of ’77: “Only those

who seek the destruction of the republican state gain from spreading

panic and preaching revolt.” That’s it exactly.

Arm the Imaginary Party!

“The points, knots, or focuses of resistance are spread over time and

space at varying densities, at times mobilizing groups or individuals in

a definitive way, inflaming certain points of the body, certain moments

of life, certain types of behavior. Are there no great radical ruptures,

massive binary divisions, then? Occasionally, yes. But more often one is

dealing with mobile and transitory points of resistance, producing

cleavages in a society that shift about, fracturing unities and

effecting regroupings, furrowing across individuals themselves, cutting

them up and remolding them, marking off irreducible regions in them, in

their bodies and minds. Just as the network o f power relations ends by

forming a dense web that passes through apparatuses and institutions,

without being exactly localized in them, so too the swarm of points of

resistance traverses social stratifications and individual unities. And

it is doubtless the strategic codification of these points of resistance

that makes a revolution possible.”

(Michel Foucault, The History of Sexuality, Vol. 1)

Empire is the kind of domination that knows no Outside, that has gone so

far as to sacrifice itself as the Same in order to rid itself of the

Other. Empire excludes nothing, substantially; it only precludes that

anything present itself as other, that anything escape the general

equivalence. The Imaginary Party is therefore nothing, specifically; it

is everything that impedes, undermines, defies, ruins equivalence .

Whether it speaks with the voice of a Putin, Bush, or Jiang Zemin ,

Empire will thus always label its hostis a “criminal,” a “terrorist,” a

“monster. “ If need be, it will itself secretly organize “terrorist” and

“monstrous” acts which it will then ascribe to the hostis-who remembers

Boris Yeltsin’s edifying rhetorical flights following the attacks in

Moscow carried out by his own special police, especially his speech to

the Russian people during which the buffoon called for a fight against

Chechen terrorism, “against a domestic enemy that has no conscience, no

pity, and no honor,” that “has no face, no nationality, or religion”? On

the other hand, Empire will never recognize its own military operations

as acts of war, but only as “peace-keeping” operations, “ international

policing” efforts.

Before ’68 brought the dialectic swaggering back- the dialectic as the

way of thinking final reintegration Marcuse attempted to think through

this curious configuration of conflict. In a speech from 1966 entitled

“The Concept of Negation in the Dialectic,” Marcuse attacks the

Hegelo-Marxist propensity to introduce negation within an antagonistic

whole, whether between two classes, between the socialist camp and the

capitalist camp, or between Capital and labor. To this tendency he

opposes a contradiction, a negation that comes from outside. He observes

that the staging of social conflict within a totality, which had been

the defining characteristic of the workers’ movement, is but the

mechanism by which THEY freeze out the event, prevent the actual

negation from occurring from the outside. “The outside about which I

have spoken is not to be understood mechanistically in the spatial sense

but, on the contrary, as the qualitative difference which overcomes the

existing antitheses inside the antagonistic partial whole [ ...] and

which is not reducible to these antitheses. [ ...] [T]he force of

negation is concentrated in no one class. Politically and morally,

rationally and instinctively, it is a chaotic, anarchistic opposition:

the refusal to join and play a part, the disgust at all prosperity, the

compulsion to protest. It is a feeble, unorganized opposition which

nonetheless rests on motives and purposes which stand in irreconcilable

contradiction to the existing whole.”

The new configuration of conflict came out of the interwar period. On

the one hand, there was Soviet membership in the League of Nations, the

Franco-Soviet Pact, the fuled strategy of the Comintern, the masses

joining with Nazism, fascism, and Francoism; in short: the workers’

betrayal of their call to revolution. On the other hand, there was the

explosion of social subversion coming from outside the workers’

movement-from surrealism, Spanish anarchism, or the American hobos.

Suddenly, the revolutionary movement and the workers’ movement were no

longer identical, revealing the Imaginary Party as an excess relative to

the latter. The motto, “class against class,” which from 1926 had become

hegemonic, only reveals its latent content if we note that it

pre-dominated exactly at the moment when all classes to disintegrate

under the effect of the crisis. “Class against class” actually means

“classes against the non-class”; it belies the determination to

reabsorb, to liquidate this evermore massive remainder, this floating,

socially unaccountable element that threatens to undermine every

substantialist interpretation of society, be it bourgeois or Marxist.

Indeed, Stalinism must first of all be interpreted as the hardening of

the workers’ movement as it is effectively surpassed by the Imaginary

Party.

One group, the Cercle Communiste Democratique, which united around

[Boris] Souvarine in France in the 1930s, tried to redefine historical

conflict. It succeeded by half in so far as it identified the two

principal pitfalls of Marxism: economism and eschatology. The last issue

of its revue La Critique Sociale noted the following failure: “Neither

the liberal bourgeoisie nor the unconscious proletariat have shown

themselves able to absorb into their political organizations the forces

of the young and declasse elements, whose increasingly energetic

interventions have accelerated the course of events” (La Critique

Sociale, no. 11, March 1934). As is hardly surprising in a country where

the custom is to dilure everything-especially politics-in literature,

the first rough theory of the Imaginary Party comes from the pen of

Bataille in the revue’s last issue. The article is entitled “The

Psychological Structure of Fascism.” For Bataille, the Imaginary Party

stands in opposition to homogeneous society. “Production is the basis of

social homogeneity. Homogeneous society is productive society, namely,

useful society. Every useless element is excluded, not from all of

society, but from its homogeneous part. In this part, each element must

be useful to another without the homogeneous activity ever being able to

attain the form of activity valid in itself. A useful activity has a

common measure with another useful activity, but not with activity for

itself. The common measure, the foundation of social homogeneity and of

the activity arising from it, is money, namely the calculable equivalent

of the different products of collective activity.” Bataille here points

to the present-day composition of the world into a continuous

biopolitical fabric, which alone accounts for the fundamental solidarity

between democratic and totalitarian regimes, for their infinite

reciprocal reversibility. The Imaginary Party is what consequently

manifests itself as heterogeneous to biopolitical formation. “The very

term heterogeneous indicates that it concerns elements which are

impossible to assimilate; this impossibility which has a fundamental

impact on social assimilation, likewise has an impact on scientific

assimilation. [ ...] Violence, excess, delirium, madness characterize

heterogeneous elements to varying degrees: active, as persons or mobs,

they result from breaking the laws of social homogeneity. [ ...] In

summary, compared to everyday life, heterogeneous existence can be

represented as something other, as incommensurate, by charging these

words with the positive value they have in affective experience. [ .. ]

This proletariat cannot actually be limited to itself: it is in fact

only a point of concentration for every dissociated social element that

has been banished to heterogeneity.” Bataille’s error, which would

plague all the work of the College of Sociology and Adphale, was to

continue to conceive of the Imaginary Party as a part of society, to

consider society as a cosmos, as a whole capable of being represented as

beyond oneself, and to view oneself from this perspective, i.e., from

the point of view of representation. All the ambiguity of Bataille’s

positions with regard to fascism stems from his attachment to these

used-up dialectics, to all that prevented him from understanding that

under Empire the negation comes from the outside, that it does not occur

as a heterogeneity with respect to the homogeneous, but as a

heterogeneity in itself, as a heterogeneity between forms-of-life

playing within their difference. In other words, the Imaginary Party can

never be individuated as a subject, a body, a thing, or a substance, nor

even as a set of subjects, bodies, things, and substances, but only as

the event of all of these things. The Imaginary Party is not

substantially a remainder of the social whole, but the fact of this

remainder, the fact that there is a remainder, that the represented

always exceeds its representation, that over which power is exercised

always eludes it. Here lies the dialectic- our condolences.

There is no “revolutionary identity.” Under Empire, it is instead

non-identity, the fact of constantly betraying the predicates that THEY

hang on us, that is revolutionary. For a long time now, there have only

been “revolutionary subjects” for power. To become neither particular

nor general, to become imperceptible, to conspire, means to distinguish

between our presence and what we are for representation, in order to

play with representation. To the exact extent that Empire becomes

unified, that the new configuration of conflict acquires an objective

character, there is a strategic necessity to know what we are for

Empire, although accepting ourselves as such, as a “Black Bloc,” an

“Imaginary Party,” or something else, would be the end of us. For

Empire, the Imaginary Party is but the form of pure singularity. From

the point of view of representation, singularity as such is the complete

abstraction, the empty identity of the here and now. Likewise, from the

point of view of the homogeneous, the Imaginary Party is simply “the

heterogeneous,” the purely unrepresentable. If we don’t want to do the

police’s work for them, we will therefore have to be careful not to

think we can do any more than indicate the Imaginary Party when it

occurs-for instance: describe it, identify it, localize it within the

territory or mark it out as a segment of “the society.” The Imaginary

Party is not one of the terms of social contradiction but the fact that

contradiction exists at all, the inassimilable alterity of the

determined faced with the omnivorous universality of Empire. And it is

only for Empire, that is, for representation, that the Imaginary Party

exists as such, that is, as negative. Dressing up what is hostile to the

system of representation in the guise of the “negative,” “protest,” the

“rebel,” is simply a tactic that the system uses to bring within its

plane of inconsistency the positivity it lacks-even at the risk of

confrontation. The cardinal error of all subversion therefore lies in

the obsession with negativity, in an attachment to the power of negation

as if that were its most characteristic feature, whereas it is precisely

in the power of negation that subversion is the most dependent on

Empire, and on Empire’s recognition of it. Here militancy like

militarism finds its only desirable solution: that of ignoring our

positivity, which is our whole strength, which is all that we have to

offer, from the point of view representation, that is, as derisory. And,

of course, for Empire, every determination is a negation.

Foucault, too, made a decisive contribution to the theory of the

Imaginary Party: his interviews dealing with the plebs. Foucault evokes

the theme for the first time in a “Discussion with Maoists” on “popular

justice” in 1972. Criticizing the Maoist practice of popular courts, he

reminds us that all popular revolts since the Middles Ages have been

anti-judicial, that the constitution of people’s courts during the

French Revolution occurred at precisely the moment when the bourgeoisie

regained control, and, finally, that the tribunal form, by reintroducing

a neutral authority between the people and its enemies, reincorporated

the principle of the state in the struggle against the state. “When we

talk about courts we’re talking about a place where the struggle between

contending forces is willy-nilly suspended.” According to Foucault, the

function of justice following the Middles Ages was to separate the

proletarianized plebs-the plebs integrated as a proletariat, included by

way of their exclusion-from the non-proletarianized plebs, from the

plebs proper. By isolating within the mass of the poor the “criminals,”

the “violent,” the “insane,” the “vagrants,” the “perverted,” the

“gangsters,” the “underworld,” THEY would not only remove what was for

power the most dangerous segment of the population, that which was

always ready for armed, Insurrectionary action, THEY would also enable

themselves to turn the people’s most offensive elements against the

people themselves. This would be the permanent threat of “either you go

to prison or you join the army,” “either you go to prison or you leave

for the colonies,” “either you go to prison or you join the police,”

etc. All the effort of the workers’ movement to distinguish between

honest, strike-ready workers from “agitators,” “rioters,” and other

“uncontrollable elements” is an extension of this opposition between the

plebs and the proletariat. The same logic is at work today when

gangsters become security guards: in order to neutralize the Imaginary

Party by playing one of its parts off the others.

Foucault would clarify the notion of the plebs four years later in

another interview. “No doubt it would be mistaken to conceive the

‘plebs’ as the permanent ground of history, the final objective of all

subjections, the ever smoldering center of all revolts. The ‘plebs’ no

doubt has no sociological reality. But there is indeed always something,

in the social body, in classes, in groups, in individuals themselves,

that in some way escapes power relations, something that is by no means

the more or less docile or recalcitrant raw material, but rather the

centrifugal movement, the inverse energy, the breakaway part. No doubt

‘the’ plebs does not exist, but there is, as it were, a certain plebeian

quality or aspect (ae la’plebe). There is plebs in bodies, in souls, in

individuals, in the proletariat, in the bourgeoisie, but with an

extension of forms, of energies, of various irreducibilities. This part

of plebs is less exterior to power relations than their limit, their

underside, their counter stroke, that which responds to every advance of

power with a movement of disengagement. Hence it provides the motivation

for every new development of networks of power. [ ... ] This point of

view of the plebs, the point of view of the underside and limit of

power, is thus indispensable for an analysis of its apparatuses.”

But we owe the most decisive contribution to the theory of the Imaginary

Party neither to a French writer nor to a French philosopher but rather

to the militants of the Red Brigades Renato Curcio and Alberto

Franceschini. In 1982, in a supplement to Corrispondenza internazionale,

the little volume Gocce di sole nelle cita degli spettri [Drops of sun

in the city of specters] was published. As disagreements between

Moretti’s Red Brigades and their then-imprisoned “historical bosses”

turned to open war, Curcio and Franceschini drew up the program of the

short-lived Guerrilla Party, the third offshoot of the BR to form

following its implosion, alongside the Walter Alasia Column and the

BR-Combatant Communist Party. In the wake of the Movement of ’77,

remarking how much they were spoken about in the conventional Third

International rhetoric of the revolution, they broke with the classical

paradigm of production, taking the latter out of the factory and

extending it to the Total Factory of the metropolis where semiotic

production, that is, a linguistic paradigm of production, prevailed.

“Rethought as a totalizing system (differentiated into private,

interdependent, functional subsystems or fields of autonomous

decision-making and auto-regulating capacity) , that is, as a

modular-corporate system, the computerized metropolis appears as a vast,

barely disguised penal colony, in which each social system, just as each

individual moves in passageways strictly differentiated and regulated by

the whole. A penal colony made transparent by the computer networks that

keep it under constant surveillance. In this model, metropolitan social

space-time mimics the schema of a predictable universe in precarious

equilibrium, unbothered by its forced tranquility, subdivided into

modular compartments inside of which each worker labors, encapsulated

within a specific collective role-like a goldfish in a bowl. A universe

regulated by apparatuses of selective retroaction dedicated to the

neutralization of all disruptions to the programs system established by

the executive. [...] Given the absurd and unsustainable communication in

which everyone is inevitably caught, as if ensnared by the paradoxical

injunction-that in order to ‘speak’ one must give up ‘communicating,’

that to ‘communicate’ one must give up speaking!- it isn’t surprising

that antagonistic communication strategies emerge which refuse the

authorized language of power; it isn’t surprising that the

significations produced through domination are rejected and countered

with new decentralized productions. Unauthorized, illegitimate

productions, but organically connected to life, and which consequently

constellate and constitute the secret underground network of resistance

and self-defense against the computerized aggression of the insane

idioms of the state. [...] Therein lies the main barrier separating

social revolution from its enemies: the former takes in isolated

resisters and schizo- metropolitan flows to a communicational territory

antagonistic to that which led to their devastation and revolt. [...] In

the ideology of control, an at-risk dividual is already synonymous with

a ‘potential terrorist madman,’ with a fragment of high-explosive social

material. That is why these dividuals are tracked down, spied on, and

followed with the discretion and tireless rigor of the hunter by the

great eye and the great ear. For the same reason they are made the

target of an intense, intimidating semiotic bombardment that sustains

the scraps of official ideology. [ ...] This is how the metropolis

achieves its specificity as a concentration camp which, in order to

deflect the incessant social antagonism it generates, Simultaneously

integrates and manipulates the artifices of seduction and fantasies of

fear. Artifices and fantasies that assume the central function of the

nervous system of the dominant culture and reconfigure the metropolis

into an immense psychiatric Lager-the most total o f total

institutions-a labyrinthine network of High Security Quarters, areas of

continuous control, loony bins, prisoner containers, reserves for

volunteer metropolitan slaves, bunkered zones for demented fetishes.

[...] In the metropolis, perpetrating violence against the necrotropic

fetishes of Capital is humanity’s greatest possible conscious act

because it is through this social practice that the proletariat

constructs—by appropriating the vital productive process-its knowledge

and its memory, that is, its social power. [ ...] Destroying the old

world through revolutionary transgression and bringing forth from this

destruction the surprising and multiple constellations of new social

relations are simultaneous processes that ate nonetheless of two

distinct kinds. [ ...] Those responsible for creating the imaginary

world prohibit themselves from communicating real life, turning real

life into madness; they fabricate angels of seduction and little

monsters of fear in order to display them to the miserable rabble

through the networks and circuits that transmit the sanctioned

hallucination. [ ...] To rise up from the ‘registered location,’ to take

to the stage to wreck the fetishistic performance: that is what the

metropolitan guerrillas of new communication have set out to do from the

start. [ ...] Within the complex metropolitan revolutionary process, the

party cannot have an exclusively or eminently political form. [ ...] Nor

can the party take on an exclusively combative form. The ‘power of arms’

does not imply, as the militarists believe, absolute power, because

absolute power is the power-knowledge that reunifies social practices. [

... ] A guerrilla party means: the party of power is party of knowledge.

[ ... ] The guerrilla party is the agent through which proletarian

knowledge-power achieves its maximum exteriorization and invisibility. [

... ] This means that the greater the party’s invisibility, the more it

opposes global imperialist counterrevolution, the greater its

visibility, the more it becomes an internal part of the proletariat,

that is to say, the more it communicates with the proletariat. [ ... ]

In this way, the guerrilla party is the party of transgressive social

communication.”

Autonomy will triumph!

“In large part it was these tendencies and not the violence of the

struggles that made the young people of ’77 incomprehensible to the

traditional elements of the workers’ movement.”

(Paolo Virno, “Do You Remember Counterrevolution?”)

Genoa is sacked by masked-bodied reayas, a new squat opens, workers

threaten to blow up their factory, a suburb explodes, its inhabitants

attack police stations and the nearest lines of communication, the end

of a protest turns nasty, a field of transgenic corn is mowed down

during the night. Whatever discourse describes these

acts-Marxist-Leninist, reformist, Islamist, anarchist, socialist,

ecologist, or stupidly critical-they are events of the Imaginary Party.

It matters little if the discourses are fit from the first capital

letter to the last period to the mould of meaning of Western

metaphysics, for from the start these acts speak a different language.

For us, the aim is of course to combine with the event as gesture the

event as language. This is what Autonomia Operaia achieved in Italy in

the 1970s. Autonomia was never one movement, even if THEY described it

at the time as “the Movement.” Autonomia’s space was the plane of

consistency where a large number of singular destinies flowed together,

intersected, aggregated, and disaggregated. Bringing these destinies

together under the term “Autonomia” serves purely as a signifying

device, a misleading convention. The big misunderstanding here is that

autonomy wasn’t the predicate demanded by subjects-what dreary,

democratic drivel if the whole thing had been about demanding one’s

autonomy as a subject-but by becomings [devenirsl . Autonomia thus has

innumerable birthdates, is but a succession of opening acts, like so

many acts of secession. It is, therefore, workers’ autonomy, the

autonomy of the unions’ rank and file, of the rank and file that

ransacked the headquarters of a moderate union at Piazza Statuto in

Turin in 1962. But it is also workers’ autonomy with regard to their

role as workers: the refusal to work, sabotage, wildcat strikes,

absenteeism, their declared estrangement from the conditions of their

exploitation, from the capitalist whole. It is women’s autonomy: the

refusal of domestic work, the refusal to silently and submissively

reproduce the masculine workforce, self-consciousness, making themselves

heard, putting an end to pointless affective intercourse; women’s

autonomy, therefore, from their role as women and from patriarchal

civilization. It is the autonomy of young people, of the unemployed, of

the marginal, who refuse their role as outcasts, who are no longer

willing to keep their mouths shut, who impose themselves on the

political scene, demand a guaranteed income, create an armed struggle in

order to be paid to sit on their asses. But it is also the autonomy of

militants from the figure of the militant, from the partinini, and from

the logic of the groupuscule, from a conception of action always

deferred-deferred until later in existence. Contrary to what the

sociologizing half wits-always hungry for profitable reductions may lead

one to believe, the remarkable fact here is not the affirmation of “new

subjects,” whether political, social, or productive, young people, women

, the unemployed, or homosexuals, but rather their violent, practical,

active desubjectivation, the rejection and betrayal of the role that has

been assigned to them as subjects. What the different becomings of

Autonomia have in common is their call for a movement of separation from

society, from the whole. This secession is not the assertion of a static

difference, of an essential alterity, a new entry on the balance sheet

of identities managed by Empire, but a flight, a line of flight. At the

time, separation was written Separlazione.

The movement of internal desertion, of brutal subtraction, of

ever-renewed flight, this chronic irreducibility to the world of

domination-this is what Empire fears. “The only way to develop our

culture and to live our lives, as far as we are concerned, is by being

absent,” proclaimed the Maoist-Dadaist fanzine Zut in its October 76

issue. That we could become absent to its provocations, indifferent to

its values, that we might not respond to its stimuli- that is the

permanent nightmare of cybernetic domination, “to which power responds

by criminalizing all foreign behavior and one’s rejection of capital”

(Vogliamo Tutto 10, summer ’76). Autonomy therefore means: desertion,

deserting family, deserting the office, deserting school, deserting all

supervision, deserting men’s, women’s, and the citizen’s roles,

deserting all the shitty relations in which THEY believe us to be

held-endless desertion. With every new direction that we give to our

movement, the essential thing is to increase our power [puissance] , to

always follow the line of increasing power in order to strengthen the

force of our deterritorialization, to make sure that THEY won’t be

stopping us anytime soon. In all this, what we have most to fear, what

we have most to betray, is all those who are watching us, who are

tracking us, following us from afar, thinking of one way or another to

capitalize the energy expended by our flight: all the managers, all the

maniacs of reterritorialization. Some are on the side of Empire of

course : the trend-setters feeding on the cadaver of our inventions, the

hip capitalists, and other dismal scum. But some can also be found on

our side. In 1970s Italy they were the Operaists, the great unifiers of

Autonomia Organizzata, which succeeded in “bureaucratizing the concept

of ‘autonomy ’ itself “ (Neglazione, 1976). They will always try to make

ONE movement out of our movements in order to s peak in its name,

indulging in their favorite game: political ventriloquism. In the 1960s

and 1970s the Operaists thus spent all their time repatriating in the

terms and behavior of the workers’ movement what in fact outstripped

them on all sides. Taking as their starting point the ethical

estrangement from work expressing itself overwhelmingly among workers

recently emigrated from southern Italy, they theorized workers’

autonomy-against the unions and the bureaucrats of the classical

workers’ movement-whose spontaneous meta-bureaucrats they were hoping to

become; and this, without having to climb the hierarchical ladder of a

classical union: a meta-syndicalism. Hence the treatment they reserved

for the plebian elements of the working class, their refusal to allow

the workers to become something other than workers, their obliviousness

to the fact that the autonomy asserting itself wasn’t workers’ autonomy

but autonomy from the worker identity. They subsequently treated

“women,” “the unemployed,” “young people,” “the marginal,” in short,

“the autonomous,” all in the same way. Incapable of any familiarity with

themselves let alone with any world, they desperately sought to

transform a plane of consistency, the s pace of Autonomia, into an

organization-a combatant organization, if possible-that would make them

the last-chance interlocutors of a moribund power. Naturally, we owe the

most remarkable and most popular travesty of the Movement of ’77 to an

Operaist theoretician, Asor Rosa: the so-called “theory of two

societies.” According to him, we were supposed to have witnessed a dash

between two societies, that of workers with job security, on the one

hand, and, on the other, that of workers without ( young people,

precarious workers, the unemployed, the marginal, etc.). Even if the

theory has the virtue of breaking with the very thing that every

socialism and, therefore, every left look to preserve (even if it takes

a massacre to do it) , namely, the fiction of society’s ultimate unity,

it neglects. ( 1) that the “first society” no longer exists, having

already begun a process of continuous implosion; (2) that the Imaginary

Party, which is being constructed as the ethical fabric following the

implosion, is in no way one, in any case, in no way capable of being

unified into a new isolable whole: a second society. This is exactly the

move that Negri now atavistically reproduces when he calls a singular

multitude something whose essence is, in his own words, a multiplicity.

The theoretical con game will never be as pathetic as its underlying

goal, which is to pass oneself off as the organic intellectual of a new

spectacularly unified subject.

For the Operaists autonomy was, therefore, part and parcel an autonomy

of class, an autonomy of a new social subject. Over the twenty years of

Operaist activity this axiom was maintained thanks to the convenient

notion of class composition. As circumstances and short-sighted

political calculations dictated, this or that new sociological category

would be included in “class composition,” and, on the pretext of a study

of labor, one would reasonably change sides. When the workers got tired

of fighting, the death of the “mass-worker” would be decreed and his

role of global insurgent would be replaced with that of the “social

worker,” that is, with more or less anyone. Eventually we would end up

discovering revolutionary virtues at Benetton, in the little

Berlusconian entrepreneurs of the Italian North-East (cf. Des

entrerprises pas comme les autres) and even, if need be, in the Northern

League.

Throughout “creeping” May autonomy was nothing more than this

incoercible movement of flight, this staccato of ruptures, in particular

ruptures with the workers’ movement. Even Negri acknowledges as much:

“The bitter polemic that opened in ’68 between the revolutionary

movement and the official workers’ movement turned into an irreversible

rupture in ’77,” he says. Operaism, the outmoded because avant-garde

consciousness of the Movement, would never tire of reapproriating this

rupture, of interpreting it in terms of the workers’ movement. In

Operaism, just like in the practices of the BR, we find less an attack

on capitalism than a covetous struggle with the leadership of the most

powerful communist party in the West, the PCI, a struggle whose prize

was power OVER the workers. “We could only talk politics by way of

Leninism. As long as a different class composition wasn’t in the offing,

we found ourselves in a situation that many innovators have found

themselves in: that of having to explain the new with an old language,”

Negri complains in an interview from 1980. It was therefore under cover

of orthodox Marxism, under the protection of a rhetorical fidelity to

the workers’ movement, that the false consciousness of the movement came

of age. There were voices, like those of Gatti Selvaggi, that spoke out

against this sleight of hand: “We are against the ‘myth’ of the working

class because it is first of all harmful to the working class. Operaism

and populism only serve the millennial aim of using the ‘masses’ as a

pawn in the dirty games of power” (no. 1, December 1974). But the fraud

was too flagrant not to work. And, in fact, it worked.

Given the fundamental provincialism of French opposition movements, what

happened thirty years ago in Italy isn’t just historical anecdote; on

the contrary: we still haven’t addressed the problems the Italian

autonomists faced at the time. Given the circumstances, the move from

struggles over places of work to struggles over territory; the

recomposition of the ethical fabric on the basis of secession; the

reappropriation of the means to live, to struggle, and to communicate

among ourselves form a horizon that remains unreachable as long as the

existential prerequisite of Separlazione goes unacknowledged.

Separlazione means: we have nothing to do with this world. We have

nothing to say to it nor anything to make it understand. Of acts of

destruction, of sabotage: we have no reason to follow them up with an

explanation duly guided by human Reason. We are not working for a

better, alternative world to come, but in virtue of what we have already

confirmed through experimentation, in virtue of the radical

irreconcilability between Empire and this experimentation, of which war

is a part. And when, in response to this massive critique, reasonable

people, legislators, technocrats, those in power ask, “But what do you

really want?” our response is, “We aren’t citizens. We will never adopt

your point of view of the whole, your management point of view. We

refuse to play the game, that is it. It is not our job to tell you which

sauce to cook us with.” The main source of the paralysis from which we

must break free is the utopia of the human community, the perspective of

a final, universal reconciliation. Even Negri, at the time of Domination

and Sabotage, took this step, the step outside socialism: “I don’t see

the history of class consciousness as Lukacs does, as a fated, integral

recomposition, but rather as a moment of intensively implanting myself

in my own separation. I am other, other is the movement of collective

praxis of which I am a part. I participate in an other workers’

movement. Of course I know how much criticism speaking this way may

provoke from the point of view of the Marxist tradition. I have the

impression, as far as I am concerned, of holding myself at the extreme

signifying limit of a political discourse on class. [ ...] I therefore

have to accept radical difference as the methodical condition of

subversion, of the project of proletarian self-valorization. And my

relationship with the historical totality? With the totality of the

system? Here we get to the second consequence of the assertion: my

relationship with the totality of capitalist development, with the

totality of historical development, is secure only through the force of

destructuration determined by the movement, through the total sabotage

of the history of capital undertaken by the movement. [...] I define

myself by separating myself from the totality, and I define the totality

as other than myself, as a network extending over the continuity of

historical sabotage undertaken by the class.” Naturally, there is no

more an “other workers’ movement” than there is a “second society.” On

the other hand, there are the incisive becomings of the Imaginary Party,

and their autonomy.

Living-and-Struggling

“The most yielding thing in the world will overcome the most rigid.”

(Lao Tzu, Tao Te Ching)

The first campaign against Empire failed. The RAF’S attack on the

“imperialist system,” the BR’S on the SIM (Stato Imperialista delle

Multinazionali), and so many other guerrilla groups have been easily

suppressed. The failure was not one of this or that militant

organization, of this or that “revolutionary subject,” but the failure

of a conception of war, of a conception of war that could not be

reproduced beyond the sphere of organizations because it itself was

already a re production. With the exception of certain RAF texts or the

Movement 2 June, most documents from the “armed struggle” are written in

this ossified, used-up, borrowed language that one way or another smells

of Third International kitsch. As if the point was to dissuade anyone

from joining.

After twenty years of counterrevolution, the second act in the

anti-imperialist struggle has now begun. Until now, the collapse of the

socialist bloc and the social-democratic conversion of the last remnants

of the workers’ movement have definitively freed our party from any of

the socialist inclinations it still may have had. Indeed, the

obsolescence of the old conceptions of struggle first became obvious

with the disappearance of the struggle itself, then with the

“anti-globalization movement” of today, with the higher-order parody of

former militant practices.

The return of war requires a new conception of warfare. We must invent a

form of war such that the defeat of Empire no longer obliges suicide,

but rather to recognize ourselves as living, as more and more ALIVE.

Our starting point is not fundamentally different from that of the RAP

when it observes: “the system has taken up all of the free time people

had. To their physical exploitation in the factory is now added the

exploitation of their feelings and thoughts, wishes, and utopian dreams

[ ...] through mass consumption and the mass media. [ ...] The system

has managed, in the metropolises, to drag the masses so far down into

its own dirt that they seem to have largely lost any sense of the

oppressive and exploitative nature of their situation [ ...] SO that for

a car, a pair of jeans, life insurance, and a loan, they will easily

accept any outrage on the part of the system. In fact, they can no

longer imagine or wish for anything beyond a car, a vacation, and a

tiled bathroom.” The unique thing about Empire is that it has expanded

its colonization over the whole of existence and over all that exists.

It is not only that Capital has enlarged its human base, but it has also

deepened the moorings of its jurisdiction. Better still, on the basis of

a final disintegration of society and its subjects, Empire now intends

to recreate an ethical fabric, of which the hipsters, with their modular

neighborhoods, their modular media, codes, food, and ideas, are both the

guinea pigs and the avant-garde. And this is why, from the East Village

to Oberkampf by way of Prenzlauer Berg, the hip phenomenon has so

quickly had such worldwide reach.

It is on this total terrain, the ethical terrain of forms-of-life, that

the war against Empire is currently being played out. It is a war of

annihilation. Contrary to the thinking of the BR, for whom the explicit

purpose of the Moro kidnapping was the armed party’s recognition by the

state, Empire is not the enemy. Empire is no more than the hostile

environment opposing us at every turn. We are engaged in a struggle over

the recomposition of an ethical fabric. This recomposition can be seen

throughout the territory, in the process of progressive hipification of

formerly secessionist sites, in the uninterrupted extension of chains of

apparatuses. Here the classical, abstract conception of war, one

culminating in a total confrontation in which war would finally reunite

with its essence, is obsolete. War can no longer be discounted as an

isolable moment of our existence, a moment of decisive confrontation;

from now on our very existence, every as pect of it, is war. That means

that the first movement of this war is reappropriation. Reappropriation

of the means of livingand-struggling. Reappropriation, therefore, of

space: the squat, the occupation or communization of private spaces.

Reappropriation of the common: the constitution of autonomous languages,

syntaxes, means of communication, of an autonomous culture-stripping the

transmission of experience from the hands of the state. Reappropriation

of violence: the communization of combat techniques, the formation of

selfdefense forces, arms. Finally, reappropriation of basic survival:

the distribution of medical power-knowledge, of theft and expropriation

techniques, the progressive organization of an autonomous supply

network.

Empire is well-armed to fight the two types of secession it recognizes:

secession “from above” through golden ghettos-the secession, for

example, of global finance from the “real economy” or of the imperial

hyperbourgeoisie from the rest of the biopolitical fabric-and secession

“from below” through “no-go areas”-housing projects, inner cities, and

shantytowns. Whenever one or the other threatens its meta-stable

equilibrium, Empire need only play one against the other: the civilized

modernity of the trendy against the retrograde barbarism of the poor, or

the demands for social cohesion and equality against the inveterate

egotism of the rich. “One aims to impart political coherence to a social

and spatial entity in order to avoid all risk of secession by

territories inhabited either by those excluded from the socio-economic

network or by the winners of the global economic dynamic. [ ... ]

Avoiding all forms of secession means finding the means to reconcile the

demands of the new social class and the demands of those excluded from

the economic network whose spatial concentration is such that it induces

deviant behavior.” These are the theories peddled by the advisers of

Empire-in this case, Cynthia Ghorra-Gobin in Ies Etats-Unis entre local

et mondial. That said, Empire is powerless to prevent the exodus, the

secession, we are working towards precisely because the latter’s

territory is not only physical, but total. Sharing a technique, the turn

of a phrase, a certain configuration of space suffices to activate our

plane of consistency. Therein lies our strength: in a secession that

cannot be recorded on the maps of Empire, because it is a secession

neither from above nor from below, but a secession through the middle.

What we are simply getting at here is the constitution of war machines.

By war machines should be understood a certain coincidence between

living and struggling, a coincidence that is never given without

simultaneously requiring its construction. Because each time one of

these terms ends up separated, however it happens, from the other, the

war machine degenerates, derails. If the moment oflrving is

unilateralized, it becomes a ghetto. Proofs of this are the grim

quagmires of the “alternative,” whose specific task is to market the

Same in the guise of difference. Most occupied social centers in

Germany, Italy, or Spain clearly show how simulated exteriority from

Empire provides a precious tool in capitalist valorization. “The ghetto,

the apologia of ‘difference,’ the privilege accorded to moral and

introspective questions, the tendency to form a separate society that

forgoes attacks on the capitalist machine, on the ‘social factory’:

wouldn’t all this be a result of the approximate and rhapsodic

‘theories’ of Valcarenghi [head of the countercultural publication Re

Nudo] and company? And isn’t it strange that they call us a ‘subculture’

just as all their flowery; nonviolent crap has started to be

undermined?” The Senza Tregua autonomists were writing this already in

1976. On the other hand, if the moment of struggle is hypostatized, the

war machine degenerates into an army. All militant formations, all

terrible communities are war machines that have survived their own

extinction in this petrified form. The introduction to the collection of

Autonomia texts It diritto all’odio [The Right to Hate] published in

1977 already pointed to this excess of the war machine with regard to

its acts of war: “Tracing the chronology of this hybrid and, in many

regards, contradictory subject that materialized in the sphere of

Autonomia, I find myself reducing the movement to a sum of events

whereas the reality of its becoming war-machine asserted itself only in

the transformation that the subject effectuated concentrically around

each moment of effective confrontation.”

There is no war machine except in movement, even hindered, even

imperceptible movement, in movement following its propensity for

increasing power. Movement insures that the power struggles traversing

it never settle into power relations. We can win our war, that is, our

war will continue, increase our power, provided that the confrontation

is always subordinated to our positivity: never strike beyond one’s

positivity, such is the vital principle of every war machine. Each space

conquered from Empire, from its hostile environment, must correspond to

our capacity to fill it, to configure it, to inhabit it. Nothing is

worse than a victory one doesn’t know what to do with. In essence, then,

ours will be a silent war; it will be evasive, avoid direct

confrontation, declare little. In so doing it will impose its own

temporality. Just as we are identified we will give the notice to

disperse, never allowing ourselves to be suppressed, already reuniting

in some unsuspected place. The location makes no difference since every

local attack is henceforth an attack against Empire-that is the only

worthwhile lesson to come out from the Zapatista farce. The important

thing is never to lose the initiative, never let a hostile temporality

impose itself. And above all: never forget that our strike capacity is

linked to how well-armed we are only by virtue of our constitutive

positivity.

The Sorrows of the Civilized Warrior

“I steer clear of those who expectfote, dreams, a riot to provide them

with a way to escape their weakness. They are too much like those who in

the past relied on God to save their wasted lives.”

(Georges Bataille)

It is commonly acknowledged that the Movement of ’77 was defeated

because it was incapable, notably during the Bologna conference, of

relating in any significant way to its offensive strength, to its

“violence.” In Empire’s fight against subversion, its entire strategy

consists in isolating the most “violent” “punks,” the “out of control,”

the “autonomous,” “terrorists,” etc.-from the rest of the population-

and every year this is again proven true. Contrary to the police view of

the world, it must be said that there is in fact no problem with armed

struggle: no consequential struggle has ever been waged without arms.

There is no problem with armed struggle except for the state, which

wants to conserve its monopoly over legitimate armed force. On the other

hand, there is indeed the question of the use of arms. When in March

’77, 100,000 people protested in Rome, 1 0,000 of whom were armed and,

at the end of day long confrontations, not one policeman was hurt

although a massacre would have been easy, we can better appreciate the

difference between being armed and using arms. Being armed is part of

the power struggle, the refusal to remain abjectly at the mercy of the

police, a way of assuming our legitimate impunity. Now that that is

cleared up, there remains the question of our relationship with

violence, a relationship whose general lack of consideration impedes the

progress of anti-imperial subversion.

Every war machine is by nature a society, a society without a state; but

under Empire, given its obsidional status, another determination has to

be added. It is a society of a particular kind: a warrior society.

Although each existence is at its core essentially a war and each will

know how to engage in confrontation when the time comes, a minority of

beings must take war as the exclusive aim of their existence. These are

the warriors. Henceforth the war machine will have to defend itself not

only from hostile attacks, but also from the threat of the warrior

minority breaking off from it, composing a caste, a dominant class,

forming an embryonic state and, by turning the offensive resources at

its disposal into the means of oppression, taking power. To us,

establishing a central relationship with violence only means

establishing a central relationship with the warrior minority.

Interestingly, it was in a text from 1977, the last by Clastres, The

Sorrows of the Savage warrior, that such a relationship was sketched out

for the first time. It was perhaps necessary that all the propaganda

about classical virility had to fade before such an undertaking could be

made.

Contrary to what THEY have told us, the warrior is not a figure of

plenitude, and certainly not of virile plenitude. The warrior is a

figure of amputation. The warrior is a being who feels he exists only

through combat, through confrontation with the Other, a being who is

unable to obtain for himself the feeling of existing. In the end,

nothing is sadder than the sight of a form-of-life that, in every

situation, expects hand-to-hand combat to remedy its absence from itself

But nothing is more moving, either; because this absence from self is

not a simple lack, a lack of familiarity with oneself, but rather a

positivity. The warrior is in fact driven by a desire, and perhaps one

sole desire: the desire to disappear. The warrior no longer wants to be,

but wants his disappearance to have a certain style. He wants to

humanize his vocation for death. That is why he never really manages to

mix with the rest of humankind: they are spontaneously wary of his

movement toward Nothingness. In their admiration for the warrior can be

measured the distance they impose between him and them. The warrior is

thus condemned to be alone. This leaves him greatly dissatisfied,

dissatisfied because he is unable to belong to any community other than

the false community, the terrible community, of warriors who have only

their solitude in common. Prestige, recognition, glory are less the

prerogative of the warrior than the only form of relationship compatible

with his solitude. His solitude is at once his salvation and his

damnation.

The warrior is a figure of anxiety and devastation. Because he isn’t

present, is only for-death, his immanence has become miserable, and he

knows it. He has never gotten used to the world, so he has no attachment

to it; he awaits its end. But there is also a tenderness, even a

gentleness about the warrior, which is this silence, this half-presence.

If he isn’t present, it is often because otherwise he would only drag

those around him into the abyss. That is how the warrior loves: by

preserving others from the death he has at heart. Instead of the company

of others, he thus often prefers to be alone, and this more out of

kindness than disgust. Or else he joins the grief-stricken pack of

warriors who watch each other slide one by one towards death. Because

such is their inclination.

In a sense, the society to which the warrior belongs cannot help but

distrust him. It doesn’t exclude him nor really include him; it excludes

him through its inclusion and includes him through its exclusion. The

ground of their mutual understanding is recognition. In according him

prestige society keeps the warrior at a distance, attaching itself to

him and by the same token condemning him. “ For each exploit

accomplished,” writes Clastres, “the warrior and society render the same

j udgment: the warrior says, That’s good, but I can do more, increase my

glory: Society says, That’s good, but you should do more, obtain our

recognition of a superior prestige: In other words, as much by his own

personality (glory above all else) as by his total dependence on the

tribe (who else could confer glory?), the warrior finds himself, volens

nolens, the prisoner of a logic that relentlessly makes him want to do a

little more. Lacking this, society would quickly forget his past

exploits and the glory they procured for him. The warrior only exists in

war; he is devoted as such to action” and, therefore, in short order, to

death. If the warrior is in this way dominated, alienated from society,

“the existence in a given society of an organized group of

‘professional’ warriors tends to transform the permanent state of war

(the general situation of the primitive society) into actual permanent

war (the situation specific to warrior societies). Such a

transformation, pushed to the limit, would bring about considerable

sociological consequences since by affecting the very structure of

society it would alter its undivided being. The power to decide on

matters of war and peace (an absolutely essential power) would in effect

no longer belong to society as such, but indeed to the brotherhood of

warriors, which would place its private interest before the collective

interest of society, making its particular point of view the general

point of view of the tribe. [ ...] First a group seeking prestige, the

warlike community would then transform itself into a pressure group in

order to push society into accepting the intensification of war.”

The subversive counter-society must, we must recognize the prestige

connected to the exploits of every warrior, of every combatant

organization. We must admire the courage of any feat of arms, the

technical perfection of this or that exploit, of a kidnapping, of an

assassination, of every successful armed action. We must appreciate the

audacity of this or that prison attack meant to liberate comrades. We

must do all this specifically in order to protect ourselves from

warriors, in order to condemn them to death. “Such is the defense

mechanism that primitive society erects to ward off the risk that the

warrior, as such, presents: the life of the undivided social body for

the death of the warrior. Tribal law becomes clear here: primitive

society is, in its being, a society-for-war; it is at the same time, and

for the same reasons, a society against the warrior.” There will be no

doubt of our grief.

The Italian Movement’s relationship with its armed minority was marked

by this same ambivalence throughout the 1970s. The fear was that the

minority would break off into an autonomous military force. And that is

exactly what the State with its “strategy of tension,” was aiming at. By

artificially raising the military presence in the conflict, by

criminalizing political protest, by forcing the members of militant

organizations underground, it wanted to cut the minority off from the

Movement and in so doing to make it as hated within the Movement as the

state already was. The idea was to liquidate the Movement as a war

machine by compelling it to take as its exclusive objective war with the

state. The watchword of the PCI secretary general, Berlinguer, in

1978-“You are either with the Italian state or with the BR” — which

above all meant “either with the Italian state or with the Brigadist

state”-sums up the apparatus by which Empire crushed the Movement, and

which it is now exhuming in order to prevent the return of

anti-capitalist struggle.

Diffuse Guerrilla Warfare

“But how many of there are you? I mean ... of us, the group.”

“Who knows. One day there are two of us, the next twenty. And sometimes

when we meet, there are a hundred thousand.”

(Cesare Battisti, L’ultimo paro [The Last Shot])

In 1970s Italy two subversive strategies coexisted: that of militant

organizations and that of Autonomia. This is an oversimplification. It

is obvious, for example, that in the sale case of the BR, one can

distinguish between the “first BR,” those of Curcio and Franceschini-who

were “invisible to power, but present for the movement”; who were

implanted in factories where they kept the loudmouth bosses quiet,

kneecapped scabs, burned cars, kidnapped managers; who only wanted to

be, in their words, “the highest point of the movement” -and those of

Moretti, more distinctly Stalinist, who went completely, professionally,

underground, and who, having become invisible to the movement as much as

to themselves, launched an “attack on the heart of the state” on the

abstract stage of classical politics and ended up just as cut off from

any ethical reality. It would therefore be possible to argue that the

most famous of the BR’S actions, Moro’s kidnapping, his incarceration in

a “prison of the people,” where he was judged by a “proletarian court,”

so perfectly imitated the procedures of the state not to be, already,

the exploit of a degenerate militarized BR, which was no longer what it

once was, no longer looked anything like the first BR. If we forget

these potential subtleties, we see that there is a strategic axiom

common to the BR, the RAF, the NAP, Prima Linea (PL), and, in fact, to

all combatant organizations, and that is to oppose Empire as a subject,

a collective, revolutionary subject. It entails not only calling for

acts of war, but above all forcing its members to eventually go

underground and in so doing to sever themselves from the ethical fabric

of the Movement, from its life as a war machine. A former PL member,

surrounded by calls for his surrender, offered some worthwhile

observations: “During the Movement of ’77, the BR understood nothing of

what was happening. The ones who had been working as moles for years

suddenly saw thousands of young people doing whatever they wanted. As

for Prima Linea, the movement had had influence, but paradoxically

nothing remained of it, whereas the BR recuperated the remnants when the

movement died out. In fact, the armed groups never knew how to get in

synch with the existing movements. They reproduced a kind of alternative

mechanism, a kind of silent infiltration, and finally, a virulent

critique. And when the movement disappeared, the disillusioned leaders

were gathered up and launched into the heights of Italian politics.

[...] This was especially the case after Mora. Before, the organization

was instead run with this somewhat irrational spirit of transgression of

the Movement of ’77. We weren’t modern-day Don Juans, but the prevailing

behavior was ‘unauthorized.’ Then little by little the influence of the

BR changed. They had their grand, model romance, the passion between

Renato Curcio and Margherita Cagol. [...] With militarism-a certain

conception of militarism-life itself is organized as it is in the army.

The analogy with the military struck me; this formal camaraderie infused

with reassuring optimism which feeds a certain kind of competitiveness:

whoever told the best joke and kept the troops’ spirits up the best won.

With-just as in the army-the gradual elimination of the shy and

depressed ones of the group. There is no place for them, because they

are immediately considered a weight on the regiment’s morale. It is a

typical military deformity: seeking in the exuberant and noisy existence

of a gang a form of security that substitutes for an inner life. So,

unconsciously, you have to marginalize those who might weigh things down

with perhaps a morose but no doubt more sincere mood, in any case, a

mood that must be a lot closer to what the noisiest must deep down be

feeling inside. With a cult of virility as the result” (Liberation,

October 13–14, 1980). If we leave aside the profound ill will behind

these remarks, the account confirms two mechanisms specific to every

political group that is constituted as a subject, as an entity separated

from the plane of consistency on which it depends: (1) It takes on all

the features of a terrible community. (2) It finds itself projected into

the realm of representation, into the sphere of classical politics,

which alone shares with it its same degree of separation and

spectrality. The subject-subject confrontation with the state

necessarily follows, as an abstract rivalry, as the staging of an in

vitro civil war; and finally one ends up attributing to the enemy a

heart it doesn’t have. One attributes to the enemy precisely that

substance which one is on the point of losing.

The other strategy; not of war but of diffuse guerilla warfare, is the

defining characteristic of Autonomia. It alone is capable of bringing

down Empire. This doesn’t mean curling up into a compact subject in

order to confront the state, but disseminating oneself in a multiplicity

of foci, like so many rifts in the capitalist whole. Automonia was less

a collection of radio stations, bands, weapons, celebrations, riots, and

squats, than a certain intensity in the circulation of bodies between

all these points. Thus Autonomia didn’t exclude the existence of other

organizations within it, even if they held ridiculous neo-Leninist

pretentions: each organization found a place within the empty

architecture through which-as circumstances evolved-the flows of the

Movement passed. As soon as the Imaginary Party becomes a secessionist

ethical fabric the very possibility of instrumentalizing the Movement by

way of its organizations, and a fortiori the very possibility of its

infiltration, vanishes: rather, the organizations themselves will

inevitably be subsumed by the Movement as simple points on its plane of

consistency. Unlike combatant organizations, Autonomia was based on

indistinction, informality, a semi-secrecy appropriate to conspiratorial

practice. War acts were anonymous, that is, signed with fake names, a

different one each time, in any case, unattributable, soluble in the sea

of Autonomia. They were like so many marks etched in the half-light, and

as such forming a denser and more formidable offensive than the armed

propaganda campaigns of combatant organizations. Every act signed

itself, claimed responsibility for itself through its particular how,

through its specific meaning in situation, allowing one instantly to

discern the extreme-right attack, the state massacre of subversive

activities. This strategy, although never articulated by Autonomia, is

based on the sense that not only is there no longer a revolutionary

subject, but that it is the non-sub itself that has become

revolutionary, that is to say, effective against Empire. By instilling

in the cybernetic machine this sort of permanent, daily, endemic

conflict, Autonomia succeeded in making the machine ungovernable.

Significantly, Empire’s response to this any enemy [ennemi quelconque]

will always be to represent it as a structured, unitary organization, as

a subject and, if possible, to turn it into one. “I was speaking with a

leader of the Movement; first of all, he rejects the term ‘leader’: they

have no leaders. [ ...] The Movement, he says, is an elusive mobility, a

ferment of tendencies, of groups and sub-groups, an assemblage of

autonomous molecules. [ ...] To me, there is indeed a ruling group to

the Movement; it is an ‘internal’ group, insubstantial in appearance but

in reality perfectly structured. Rome, Bologna, Turin, Naples: there is

indeed a concerted strategy. The ruling group remains invisible and

public opinion, however well informed, is in no position to judge.”

(“The Autonomists’ Paleo-Revolution,” Corriere della Sera, May 21, 1977)

. No one will be surprised to learn that Empire recently tried the same

thing to counter the return of the anti-capitalist offensive, this time

targeting the mysterious “Black Blocs.” Although the Black Bloc has

never been anything but a protest technique invented by German

Autonomists in the 1980s, then improved on by American anarchists in the

early 1990s-a technique, that is, something reappropriable,

infectious-Empire has for some time spared no effort dressing it up as a

subject in order to turn it into a closed, compact, foreign entity.

“According to Genovese magistrates, Black Blocs make up ‘an armed gang’

whose horizontal, non-hierarchical structure is composed of independent

groups with no single high command, and therefore able to save itself

‘the burden of centralized control,’ but so dynamic that it is capable

of ‘developing its own strategies’ and making ‘rapid, collective

decisions on a large scale’ while maintaining the autonomy of single

movements. This is why it has achieved ‘a political maturity that makes

Black Blocs a real force’” (“Black Blocs Are an Armed Gang,” Corriere

della Sera, August 11, 2001 ) . Desperately compensating for its

inability to achieve any kind of ethical depth, Empire constructs for

itself the fantasy of an enemy it is capable of destroying.

And the State sank into the Imaginary Party...

“In attempting to counter subversion it is necessary to take account of

three separate elements. The first two constitute the target proper,

that is to say the Party or Front and its cells and committees on the

one hand, and the armed groups who are supporting them and being

supported by them on the other. They may be said to constitute the head

and body of a fish. The third element is the population and this

represents the water in which the fish swims. Fish vary from place to

place in accordance with the sort ofwater in which they are designed to

live, and the same can be said of subversive organizations. If a fish

has got to be destroyed it can be attacked directly by rod or net,

providing it is in the sort of position which gives these methods a

chance of success. But if rod and net cannot succeed by themselves it

may be necessary to do something to the water which willforce the fish

into a position where it can be caught. Conceivably it might be

necessary to kill the fish by polluting the water, but this is unlikely

to be a desirable course of action. ”

(Frank Kitson, Low Intensity Operations: Subversion, Insurgency and

Peacekee ping, 1971)

Frattanto i pesci, / di quali discendiamo tutti, / assistettero curiosi

/ at dramma personate e collettivo / di questo mondo che a loro /

indubbiamente doveva sembrare cattivo / e cominciarono a pensare,

nelloro grande mare / come e pro fondo if mare. / E chiaro che if

pensiero fo paura e dlt fostidio / anche se chi pensa e muto come un

pesce / anzi e un pesce / e come pesce e difficife da bfoccare percm fo

protegge if mare / come e pro fondo if mare Lucio Dalla, Come e pro

fondo if mare, 1977-

Empire’s reconfiguration of hostilities has largely gone unnoticed. It

has gone unnoticed because it first appeared outside metropolises, in

former colonies. The prohibition on war-a simple declaration with the

League of Nations that became actual with the invention of nuclear

weapons-produced a decisive transformation of war, a transformation that

Schmitt attempted to account for with his concept of “global civil war.”

Since all war between states has become criminal with respect to the

world order, not only do we now see only limited conflicts, but the very

nature of the enemy has changed: the enemy has been domesticated. The

liberal state has folded into Empire to such an extent that even when

the enemy is identified as a state, a “rogue state” in the cavalier

terminology of imperial diplomats, the war waged against it now takes

the form of a simple police operation, a matter of in-house management,

a law and order initiative.

Imperial war has neither a beginning nor an end, it is a permanent

process of pacification. The essential aspects of its methods and

principles have been known for fifty years. They were developed in the

wars of decolonization during which the oppressive state apparatus

underwent a decisive change. From then on the enemy was no longer an

isolable entity, a foreign nation, or a determined class; it was

somewhere lying in ambush within the population, with no visible

attributes. If need be, it was the population itself, the population as

insurgent force. The configuration of hostilities specific to the

Imaginary Party thus immediately revealed itself in the guise of

guerilla warfare, of partisan war. Consequently, not only has the army

become the police, but the enemy has become a “terrorist” -the

resistance to the German occupation was a “terrorist” activity; the

Algerian insurgents opposing the French occupation, “terrorists”; the

anti-imperial militants of the 1970s, “terrorists”; and, today, those

all-too-determined elements of the anti-globalization movement,

“terrorists.” Trinquier, one of the chief architects as well as a

theoretician of the Battle of Algiers: “The job of pacification

devolving on the military would create problems that it was not

accustomed to have to solve. Exercising police powers in a large city

was not something it knew well how to do. The Algerian rebels used a new

weapon for the first time: urban terrorism. It offers an incomparable

advantage, but it has one serious drawback: the population that harbors

the terrorist knows him. At any time, given the opportunity, it might

denounce him to the authorities. Strict control of the population can

rob him of this vital source of support” (Le Temps perdu). Historical

conflict hasn’t followed the principles of classical warfare for over a

half-century; for more than a half-century now there have been only

extraordinary wars.

It is these extraordinary wars, these irregular forms of war without

principles, that have gradually dissolved the liberal state into the

Imaginary Party. All the counterinsurgency doctrines-those of Trinquier,

Kitson, Beauffre, Colonel Chateau-Jobert-are categorical on this point:

the only way to fight guerilla warfare, to fight the Imaginary Party, is

to employ its techniques. “One must operate like a partisan wherever

there are partisans.” Again, Trinquier: “But he must be made to realize

that, when he [the insurgent] is captured, he cannot be treated as an

ordinary criminal, nor as a prisoner taken on the battlefield. No lawyer

is present for such an interrogation. If he gives the information

requested, the examination is quickly terminated; if not, specialists

must force his secret from him. Then, as a soldier, he must face the

suffering, and perhaps the death, he has heretofore managed to avoid.

The terrorist must accept this as a condition inherent in his trade and

in his methods of warfare that, with full knowledge, his superiors and

he himself have chosen” (Modern Warfare) The continuous surveillance of

the population, the labeling of at-risk dividuals, legalized torture,

psychological warfare, police control of Publicity, the social

manipulation of affects, the infiltration and exflltration of “extremist

groups,” the state-run massacre, like so many other aspects of the

massive deployment of imperial apparatuses, respond to the necessities

of uninterrupted war, most often carried out without a fuss. For as

Westmoreland said: “A military operation is only one of a variety of

ways to fight the communist insurgency” (“Counterinsurgency,”

Tricontinental, 1969) .

In the end, only partisans of urban guerrilla warfare have understood

what the wars of decolonization were all about. Modeling themselves on

the Uruguayan Tupamaros, they alone grasped the contemporary stakes in

the conflicts of “national liberation.” They alone, and the imperial

forces. The chairman of a seminar on “The Role of the Armed Forces in

Peace-Keeping in the 1970s,” held by the Royal United Services Institute

for Defense Studies in London in April 1973, declared, “if we lose in

Belfast we may have to fight in Brixton or Birmingham. Just as in Spain

in the thirties was a rehearsal for a wider European conflict, so

perhaps what is happening in Northern Ireland is a rehearsal of urban

guerilla war more widely in Europe and particularly in Great Britain.”

All the current pacification campaigns, all the activities of

“international peacekeeping forces” currently deployed on the outskirts

of Europe and throughout the world, obviously foreshadow other

“pacification campaigns,” this time on European territory. Only those

who fail to understand that their role is to train people struggling

against us seek in some mysterious worldwide conspiracy the reason for

these operations. No personal trajectory better sums up the expansion of

external pacification to domestic pacification than that of the British

officer Frank Kitson, the man who established the strategic doctrine

thanks to which the British state defeated the Irish insurgency and NATO

the Italian revolutionaries. Thus Kitson, before confiding his doctrine

in Low Intensity Operations: Subversion, Insurgency and Peacekeeping,

took part in the decolonization wars in Kenya against the Mau-Mau, in

Malaysia against the communists, in Cyprus against Grivas, and, finally,

in Northern Ireland. From his doctrine we will focus on only a bit of

first-hand information concerning imperial rationality. We will condense

them to three postulates. The first is that there is absolute continuity

between the pettiest crimes and insurgency proper. For Empire, war is a

continuum-warfare as a whole, says Kitson; it is necessary to respond

from the very first “incivility” to whatever threatens the social order

and in so doing to ensure the “integration of military, police, and

civil activities at every level” Civilian-military integration is the

second imperial postulate. Because during the time of nuclear

pacification wars between states became increasingly rare and because

the essential job of the army was no longer external but domestic

warfare, counterinsurgency, it was advisable to accustom the population

to a permanent military presence in public spaces. An imaginary

terrorist threat-Irish or Muslim-would justify regular patrols of armed

men in train stations, airports, subways, etc. In general, one would

look to multiply the points of indistinction between civilians and the

military. The computerization ofthe social sphere, that is, the fact

that every movement tends to produce information, is at the heart of

this integration. The proliferation of diffuse surveillance apparatuses,

of tracing and recording, serves to generate an abundance of low-grade

intelligence on which the police can then base its activities. The third

principle of imperial action following this preparatory insurrectionary

phase-which is the normal political situation- involves “peace

movements.” As soon as violent opposition to the existing order arises,

peace movements among the population must be accommodated if not created

out of whole doth. Peace movements serve to isolate the rebels while

they are infiltrated in order to make them commit acts that discredit

them. Kitson explains the strategy; employing the poetic formula,

“drowning the baby in its own milk.” In any event, it is never a bad

idea to brandish an imaginary terrorist threat in order to “make the

living conditions of the population sufficiently uncomfortable that they

create a stimulus to return to normal life.” If Trinquier had the honor

of advising American counterinsurgency bigshots, the man who in 1957 had

already established a vast system of neighborhood policing, of

controlling the Algiers population, a system given the modernist name

“Urban Security Apparatus,” Kitson for his part saw his work reach the

highest circles of NATO. He himself quickly joined the Atlanticist

organization. Hadn’t that always been his calling? He who hoped that his

book would “draw attention to the steps which should be taken now to

make the army ready to deal with subversion, insurrection, and

peace-keeping operations during the second half of the 1970s,” which he

concluded by emphasizing the same point: “Meanwhile it is permissible to

hope that the contents of this book will in some way help the army to

prepare itself for any storms which may lie ahead in the second half of

the 1970s.”

Under Empire, the very persistence of the formal trappings of the state

is part of the strategic maneuvering that renders it obsolete. Insofar

as Empire is unable to recognize an enemy, an altrerity, an ethical

difference, it cannot recognize the war conditions it has created. There

will therefore be no state of exception as such but a permanent,

indefinitely extended state of emergency. The legal system will not be

officially suspended in order to wage war against the domestic enemy,

against the insurgents, or whatever else; to the current system will

simply be added a collection of ad hoc laws designed to fight the

unmentionable enemy. “Common law will thus transform into a prolif

erative and supererogatory development of special rules: the rule will

consequently become a series of exceptions” (Luca Bresci, Oreste

Scalzone, Italia: fa excepcion es fa regia [ The Exception Is the

Rule]). The sovereignty of the police, which have again become a war

machine, will no longer suff opposition. THEY will recognize the

police’s right to shoot on sight, reestablishing in practice the death

penalty which, according to the law, no longer exists. THEY will extend

the maximum time spent in police custody such that the charges will

henceforth amount to the sentence. In certain cases, the “fight against

terrorism” will justifY imprisonment without trial as well as

warrantless searches. In general, THEY will no longer judge facts, but

persons, subjective conf ormity, one’s aptitude for repentance; to that

end, sufficiently vague qualifiers like “moral complicity,” “illegal

membership in a criminal organization,” or “inciting civil war” will be

created. And when that is no longer enough, THEY will judge by theorem.

To demonstrate clearly the difference between accused citizens and

“terrorists,” THEY will invoke laws dealing with ref ormed criminals in

order to allow the accused to dissociate himself from himself, that is,

to become vile. Significantly reduced sentences will then be granted; in

the contrary case, Beru fiverbote will prevail, outlawing the exercise

of certain sensitive professions that require protection from subversive

contamination. And yet, such a set of laws, like the Real law in Italy

Of the German emergency acts, only respond to an already declared

insurrectional situation. A lot more heinous are the laws intended to

arm the preventative fight against the war machines of the Imaginary

Party. Unanimously ratified “anti-sect laws” will supplement

“anti-terrorism,” as happened recently in France, in Spain, and in

Belgium; laws that prosecute-without concealing the intention to

criminalize- every autonomous assembly of the false national community

of citizens. Unfortunately, it may become increasingly difficult to

avoid local excesses of zeal like the “anti- extremism laws” passed in

Belgium in November 1998, which penalize “all racist, xenophobic,

anarchist, nationalist, authoritarian, or totalitarian conceptions or

aims, whether political, ideological, religious, or philosophical in

nature, contrary [...] to the functioning of democratic institutions.”

In spite of all that, it would be wrong to believe that the state will

survive. In the global civil war, its supposed ethical neutrality no

longer fools anyone. The tribunal-form itself, whether civil court or

the International Criminal Tribunal, is perceived as an explicit mode of

warfare. It is the idea of the state as a mediation between parties that

is f.illing by the wayside. The historical compromise-experimented with

in Italy from the early 1970s but now a reality in all biopolitical

democracies following the disappearance of all effective opposition on

the classical political stage-has finished off the very principle of the

state.

In this way, the Italian state failed to survive the 1970s, to survive

diffuse guerilla warfare, or rather it didn’t survive as a state, only

as a party, as a party of citizens, that is, as a party of passivity and

police. And this is the party that the passionate economic turnaround of

the 1980s blessed with an ephemeral victory. Bur the total shipwreck of

the state only really came when one man took power, took over the

theatre of classical politics, a man whose entire program was

specifically designed to jettison classical politics and put pure

entrepreneurial management in its place. At that point the state openly

took on the role of a party. With Berlusconi, it isn’t a single

individual who has taken power but a form-of-life: that of a

narrow-minded, self-seeking, philofascist petty-entrepreneur from the

North of Italy. Power is once again ethically-based-based on business as

the only form of socialization after the family-and he who embodies it

re presents no one and certainly not a majority, but is a perfectly

discernable form-of-life with which only a small fraction of the

population can identify. Just as everyone recognizes in Berlusconi the

done of the neighborhood asshole, the perfect copy of the worst local

parvenu, everyone knows that he was a member of the P2 Lodge that turned

the Italian state into its own personal instrument. This is how, bit by

bit, the state sinks into the Imaginary Party.

The Citizen Factory

“The repressive societies now being established have two new

characteristics: repression is softer, more diffuse, more generalized,

but at the same time much more violent. For all who can submit, adapt,

and be channeled in, there will be a lessening of political

intervention. There will be more and more psychologists, even

psychoanalysts, in the police department, there will be more community

therapy available; the problems of the individual and of the couple will

be talked about everywhere; repression will be more psychologically

comprehensive. The work of prostitutes will have to be recognized, there

will be a drug advisor on the radio-in short, there will be a general

climate of understanding acce ptance. But if there are categories and

individuals who escape this inclusion, if people attempt to question the

general system of confinement, then they will be exterminated like the

Black Panthers in the US., or their personalities exterminated as it ha

ppened with the Red Army Faction in Getman.”

(Felix Guattari, “Why Italy?”)

“You have divided all the people of the Empire—when I say that, I mean

the whole world-in two classes: the more cultured, better born, and more

in fluential everywhere you have declared Roman citizens and even of the

same stock; the rest vassals and sub jects.”

(Aelius Aristides, To Rome)

If there is a heuristic virtue to Italy in terms of politics, it is that

in general historical incandescence has the virtue of increasing the

strategic legibility of an age. Still today, the lines of forces, the

parties present, the tactical stakes, and the general configuration of

hostilities are more difficult to discern in France than in Italy; and

with good reason: the counterrevolution that was forcibly imposed in

Italy twenty years ago has barely established itself in France. The

counter-insurgency process has taken its time here, and has been given

the luxury of concealing its real nature. Having made itself

indiscernible, it has also made fewer enemies than elsewhere, or more

thoroughly duped allies.

The most troubling thing about the last twenty years is without a doubt

that Empire has managed to carve out from the debris of civilization a

brand new humanity organically won over to its cause: citizens. Citizens

are those who, at the very heart of the general conflagration of the

social sphere, persist in proclaiming their abstract participation in a

society that now only exists negatively, through the terror it exercises

over everything that threatens to abandon it and, in so doing, to

survive it. The accidents and the rationality that produce the citizen

all point to the heart of the imperial enterprise: to attenuate

forms-of-life, to neutralize bodies; and the citizen advances this

enterprise by self-annulling the risk he represents to the imperial

environment. This variable fraction of unconditional agents which empire

deducts from each population forms the human reality of Spectacle and

Biopower, the point of their absolute coincidence.

There is therefore a factory of the citizen, whose long-term

implantation is Empire’s major victory; not a social, or political, or

economic but an anthropological victory. Certainly, no effort was spared

in order to bring it off. It began with the offensive restructuring of

capitalist modes of production in reaction, starting in the early 1970s,

to the resurgence of worker conflict in factories and to the remarkable

disinterest in work then manifesting itself among the younger

generations following ’68. Toyotism, automation, job enrichment,

increased flexibility and personalization of work, delocalization,

decentralization, outsourcing, just-in-time methods, project-specific

management, the closure of large manufacturing plants, flextime, the

liquidation of heavy industrial systems, worker consolidation- these are

but aspects of the reforms of the modes of production whose main purpose

was to restore capitalist power over production. The restructuring was

everywhere initiated by advanced columns of employers, theorized by

enlightened union bosses, and put in place with the approval of the

principal union organizations. As Lama explained in La Repubblica in

1976: “the left must, with purpose and a clean conscience, help to

reestablish todays much diminished profit margins, even if it means

proposing measures that prove costly to the workers.” And Berlinguer

would declare at the same time that “productivity is not the weapon of

the employer,” but “a weapon of the workers’ movement for advancing a

politics of transformation.” The effect of restructuring was only

superficially the objective: “to part simultaneously with oppositional

workers and abusive petty tyrants” (Boltanski, The New Spirit of

Capitalism) . The objective was rather to purge the productive center of

a society in which production was becoming militarized, to purge it of

all the “deviants,” of all the at-risk dividuals, of all the agents of

the Imaginary Party. It was, furthermore, through the same methods that

standardization operated inside and outside the factory: by portraying

targets as “terrorists.” There was no other reason for the firing of the

“Fiat 61” in 1979, which foreshadowed the imminent defeat of workers’

struggles in Italy. It goes without saying that such actions would have

been impossible had worker leadership not actively participated in them,

the latter being no less interested than management in eradicating

chronic insubordination, unruliness, worker autonomy, “all this constant

sabotage, absenteeism, this ungovernable, deviant, criminal activity’

which the new generation of workers had imported to the factory.

Certainly no one was in a better position than the left to mould

citizens; it alone could criticize this or that person for deserting “at

a time when we are all called on to show our civic courage, each of us

in our own job”-thundered Amendola in 1977, lecturing Sciascia and

Montale.

For more than twenty years, there has therefore been an entire

calibration of subjectivities, an entire mobilization of employee

“vigilance,” a call for self-control from all sides, for subjective

investment in the production process, for the kind of creativity that

allows Empire to isolate the new hard core of its society: citizens. But

this result couldn’t have been achieved had the offensive over work not

been simultaneously supported by a second, more general, more moral

offensive. Its pretext was “the crisis.” The crisis not only consisted

in making commodities artificially scarce in order to renew their

desirability, their abundance having produced, in ’68, all too obvious

disgust. Above all, the crisis renewed Blooms’ identification with the

threatened social whole, whose fate depended on the goodwill of

everyone. That is precisely what is at work in the “politics of

sacrifice,” in the call to “tighten our belts:’ and more generally,

currently; to behave “in a responsible way” in everything we do. But

responsible for what, really? for our shitty society? for the

contradictions that undermine your mode of production? for the cracks in

your totality? Tell me! Besides, this is how one is sure to recognize

the citizen: by his individual introjection of these contradictions, of

the aporias of the capitalist whole. Rather than fight against the

social relations ravaging the most basic conditions of existence, the

citizen sorts out his garbage and fills his car with alternative fuel.

Rather than contributing to the construction of another reality, on

Fridays after work he goes to serve meals to the homeless in a center

run by slimy religious conservatives. And that is what he is going to

talk about at dinner the next day.

The most simple-minded voluntarism and the most gnawing guilty

conscience: these are the citizen’s defining characteristics.

The Biopolitical Tradition

Rarely has an intellectual endeavor been more unwelcome, more vulgar,

and more pointless than the one undertaken by the aspiring managers of

socialized Capital in their first bullshit-inaugurating issue of the rag

Multitudes. Of course, I wouldn’t even mention a publication whose only

reason for being is to serve as the theoretico-urbane showcase for the

most disastrous of careerists, Yann Moulier-Boutang, were the rag’s

scope not to reach beyond the militant mico-circles that stoop to

reading Multitudes.

Always hanging on the latest shenanigans of their master, who in Exile

sang the praises of the “inflationary biopolitical entrepreneur,” the

bureaucrats of Parisian Negrism attempted to introduce a positive

distinction between Biopower and biopolitics. Identifying themselves

with a nonexistent Foucauldian orthodoxy, they courageously rejected the

category of Biopower-which was really too critical, too molar, too

unifying. To this they opposed biopolitics as “that which envelops power

and resistance as a new language which each day compels them to confront

equality and difference, the two principles-political and biological-of

our modernity.” Since, as it was, someone more intelligent, namely,

Foucault, had already pronounced the truism that “there is power only

between free subjects,” these gentlemen considered the notion of

Biopower all too extreme. How could a productive power, whose purpose is

to maximize life, be all bad? And furthermore, how democratic is it to

speak of Biopower-or even of Spectacle? And wouldn’t doing so be a first

step towards a kind of secession? “Biopolitics,” Lazzarato in his pink

tutu prefers to think, “is therefore the strategic coordination of these

power relations such that the living produce greater force.” And leave

it to the imbecile to conclude with an exhilarating program announcing a

“return of biopower to biopolitics, of ‘the art of governing’ to the

production and government of new forms of life.”

Of course, no one could say that Negrists have ever been burdened by

philological concerns. It is always a bit frustrating to have to remind

them that the project of a guaranteed salary was, well before they

struck on the idea, proposed by the para-Nazi intellectual movement led

by Georges Duboin, a movement that during the Occupation inspired the

“scientific” work of the group “Collaboration.” Similarly, it is with

great modesty that we remind these morons of the origin of the concept

of biopolitics. Its first occurrence in French dates to 1960. La

Biopolitique was the title of a short pamphlet by the peace-drunk

Genevese doctor A. Starobinski. “Biopolities acknowledges the existence

of the purely organic forces that govern human societies and

civilizations. These are indiscriminate forces that drive the human

masses against each other and provoke the bloody conflicts between

nations and civilizations which lead to their destruction and

extinction. But biopolitics also acknowledges the existence of

constructive and conscious forces in the life of societies and

civilizations which protect them and open new and optimistic

perspectives to humanity. The indiscriminate forces-Caesarism, brute

force, the will to power, the destruction of the weakest by force or

trickery, through pillage or plunder. [...] While accepting the reality

of these facts in the history of civilizations, we will go further still

and maintain that the reality of truth, justice, the love of the Divine

and of one’s neighbor, mutual aid, and human brotherhood exists. All

those who share the ideal of brotherhood, all those who preserve in

their heart the ideal of Goodness and justice work to protect the

superior values of civilization. We must recognize that everything we

have, that everything we are-our security, our education, our very

possibility of existing-we owe to civilization. This is why our basic

duty is to do everything we can to protect and save it. To that end,

each of us must let go of our personal preoccupations, dedicate

ourselves to activities that improve society, develop our spiritual and

religious values, and actively participate in cultural life. I do not

believe that this Is difficult, though goodwill is especially called

for. For each one of us, the thoughts and action of each one of us, has

a role to play in universal harmony. Every optimistic vision of the

future is therefore both a duty and a necessity. We mustn’t fear war and

the disasters which result, for we are already there, we are already in

a state of war.” The attentive reader will have noticed that we have

stopped ourselves from quoting the passages from the pamphlet that

advocate “eliminating from within [our society] everything that might

hasten its decline,” and the conclusion that atthe current stage of

civilization, humanity must be united.”

But the good Genevese doctor is but a sweet dreamer compared to those

who would usher biopolitics into the French intellectual universe for

good: the founders of the Cahiers de fa politique, published in whose

first issue was 1968. Its director, its kingpin, was none other than

Andre Birre, the grim functionary who went from the League of Human

Rights and a great project for social revolution in the Collaboration.

The CaMers de fa 1930s to biopolitique, the mouthpiece of the

Organisation du Service de la Vie, also wanted to save civilization.

“When the founding members of the ‘Organisation du Service de la Vie’

conferred in 1965, after twenty years of unflagging work to define their

position regarding the current situation, their conclusion was that if

humanity wants to continue evolving and reach a higher plane, in

accordance with the principles of Alexis Carrel and Albert Einstein, it

must purposefully restore its respect for the Laws of Life and cooperate

with nature instead of seeking to dominate and exploit it as it does

today. [...] This way of thinking, which will enable us to reestablish

order in an organic way and allow techniques to reach their full

potential and demonstrate their effectiveness, is biopolitical

Biopolitics can provide us the understanding we lack, for it is at once

the science and the art of using human knowledge according to the givens

of the laws of nature and ontology which govern our lives and our

destiny.” In the two issues of Cahiers de fa biopolitique, one thus

discovers logical digressions on the “reconstruction of the human

being,” the “signs of health and quality,” the “normal, abnormal, and

pathological,” among considerations entitled, “when women govern the

world economy,” “when international organizations open the way to

biopolitics,” or better yet, “our motto and charter in honor oflife and

service.” “Biopolitics,” we learn, “has been defined as the science of

the conduct of states and human communities in light of natural laws and

environments and the ontological givens that govern life and determine

men’s actions.”

It should now be easier to understand why the Negrists of ... not long

ago called for a “minor biopolitics”: because a major biopolitics,

Nazism, wasn’t, it seems, very satisfying. Thus the little Parisian

Negrists’ windy incoherence: if they were coherent, they may be

surprised to find themselves suddenly the bearers of the imperial

project itself, that of recreating an integrally engineered, finally

pacified and fatally productive social fabric. But, luckily for us,

these chatterers are clueless. All they are doing is reciting, to a

techno beat, the old patristic doctrine of oikonomia, a doctrine which

they know nothing about and have precisely no idea that the first

millennium Church came up with it in order to found the limitless range

of its temporal prerogatives. In patristic thought the notion of

oikonomia-which can be translated in a hundred different ways:

incarnation, plan, design, administration, providence, responsibility,

office, compromise, dishonesty, or ruse-is what allows one to deSignate

in a single concept: the relation of the divinity to the world, of the

Eternal to historical development, of the Father to the Son, of the

Church to its faithful, and of God to his icon. “The concept of economy

is an organicist, functionalist one that simultaneously concerns the

flesh of the body, the flesh of speech, and the flesh of the image. The

notion of a divine plan with the aim of administering and managing

fallen creation, and thus of saving it, makes the economy interdependent

with the whole of creation from the beginning of time. Because of this,

the economy is as much Nature as Providence. The divine economy watches

over the harmonious conservation of the world and the preservation of

all its parts as it runs in a well-adjusted, purposive manner. The

incarnational economy is nothing other than the spreading out of the

Father’s image in its historic manifestation. The economic thought of

the church thus constitutes at once an administrative and corrective way

of thinking. It is administrative in that oikonomia is at one with the

organization, management, and development of each ministry. But it is

also necessary to add to its corrective function, because human

initiatives that are not inspired by grace can only engender

inequalities, injustices, or transgressions. The divine and

ecclesiastical economy must therefore take charge of the wretched

management of our history and regulate it in an enlightened and

redemptive way’ (Marie-Jose Mondzain, Image, Icon, Economy). The

doctrine of oikonomia, that of a final because suffering, original

integration of all even death, even sin-with divine incarnation is the

declared program of the biopolitical project in so far as the latter is

first of all a project for universal inclusion, for the total

subsumption of all things in the boundless oikonomia of the perfectly

immanent divine: Empire. In this way, when the magnum opus of Negrism,

Empire, proudly identifies itself with an ontology of production, it is

impossible to miss what our suit-clad theologian means: everything is

produced in so far as it is the expression of an absent subject, of the

absence of the subject, the Father, in virtue of which everything

is-even exploitation, even counterrevolution, even state massacres.

Empire logically doses with these lines: “Once again in post-modernity

we find ourselves in [Saint] Francis’s situation, posing against the

misery of power the joy of being. This is a revolution that no power

will control-because biopower and communism, cooperation and revolution

remain together, in love, simplicity, and also innocence. This is the

irrepressible lightness of and joy of being communist.”

“Biopolitics may very well lead to a revolt of the executives,” bemoaned

Georges Henein in 1967.

Refutation of Negrism

“Never has society been as absorbed in the ceremonials of the “problem,

and never has it been so democratically uniform in every sphere of

socially-guaranteed survival. As differentiations between classes

gradually fade, new generations “flower” on the same stalk of sadness

and stupor; which is explained away in the widely publicized eucharist

of the “problem.” And while the most extreme leftism-in its most

coherent form- calls for pay for everyone, capital caresses ever less

modestly the dream of giving it what it wants: of purging itself of the

pollution of production and allowing men the freedom to simply produce

themselves as capital’s empty forms, its containers, each one confronted

with the same enigma: why am I here?”

(Giorgio Cesarano, Manuale di sopravivvenza [Survival Manual]-1974)

There is no need to refute Negrism. The facts do al l the work. It is,

however, important to frustrate the ways in which it will likely be used

against us. The purpose of Negrism, in the last analysis, is to provide

the party of the citizens with the most sophisticated ideology. When the

confusion surrounding the obviously reactionary character of Bovism and

ATTAC finally lifts, Negrism will step forward as the last possible

socialism, cybernetic socialism.

Of course, it is already amazing that a movement opposed to “neo-liberal

globalization” in the name of a “duty to civilization” -which pities

“young people” for being held in a “state of infra-citizenship” only

finally to spew forth that “to answer the challenge of social

disintegration and political desperation demands redoubling civic and

activist efforts” (Tout sur ATTAC) pass for representing any kind of

opposition to the dominant order. And if it distinguishes itself at all,

it does so only in the anachronism of its positions, the inanity of its

analyses. Furthermore, the quasi-official convergence of the citizens’

movement with lobbies advocating greater state control can only last so

long. The massive participation of deputies, judges, functionaries,

cops, elected officials, and so many “representatives of civil society,”

which gave ATTAC such resonance initially, has over time dispelled any

illusions in its regard. Already the vacuity of its first

slogans-“taking back our world’s future together” or “doing politics

differently” -has given way to less ambiguous formulas. “A new world

order must be envisioned then built, one that embraces the difficult and

necessary submission of all-individuals, corporations, and states-to the

common interest of humanity” (Jean de Maillard, Ie march!fait sa Loi: De

l’usage du crime par La mondiaLisation).

No need for predictions here: the most ambitious in the so-called

“anti-globalization movement” are already open Negrists. The three

watchwords typical of political Negrism-for all its strength lies in its

ability to provide informal neo-militants with issues on which to focus

their demands-are the “citizen’s dividend,” the right to free movement

(“Papers for everyone!”) , and the right to creativity, especially if

computer-assisted. In this sense, the Negrist perspective is in no way

different from the imperial perspective but rather a mere instance of

perfectionism within it. When Moulier-Boutang uses all the paper at his

disposal to publish a political manifesto entitled “For a New New Deal,”

hoping to convert all the various Lefts of good faith to his project for

society, he does nothing more than reiterate the truth about Negrism.

Negrism indeed expresses an antagonism, but one within the management

class, between its progressive and conservative parts. Hence its curious

relationship to social warfare, to practical subversion, its systematic

recourse to simply making demands. From the Negrist point of view,

social warfare is but a means to pressure the opposing side of power. As

such, it is unacceptable, even if it may be useful. Hence political

Negrism’s incestuous relationship with imperial pacification: it wants

its reality but not its realism. It wants Biopolitics without police,

communication without Spectacle, peace without having to wage war to get

it.

Strictly speaking, Negrism does not coincide with imperial thought; it

is simply the idealist face of imperial thought. Its purpose is to raise

the smokescreen behind which everyday imperial life can safely proceed

until, invariably, the facts contradict it. For this reason, it is again

in its very realization that Negrism offers its best refutation. Like

when an illegal immigrant gets a green card and then is satisfied with

the most banal assimilation; like when the Tute Bianche got itself

smacked in the face by an Italian police force with which they thought

they had come to an understanding; like when Negri complains, at the end

of a recent interview, that in the 1970s the Italian state was unable to

distinguish among its enemies “those who could be rehabilitated f rom

those who couldn’t”. Despite its conversion to Negrism, the citizens’

movement is thus most certainly going to disappoint him. It is likely

that a citizen’s dividend will be established, and to a certain extent

already is, in the form of welfare payments for political passivity and

ethical conformity. Citizens, insofar as they are made to compensate

more and more frequently for the failures of the welfare state, will be

paid more and more overtly for their work in comanaging social

pacification. A citizen’s dividend will therefore be established as a

form of coercion to maintain self -discipline, in the form of strange,

extremely tight-knit, community policing. If necessary; THEY might even

call it existence wages,” since it would in fact entail sponsoring those

forms-of-life most compatible with Empire. As the Negrists predict,

affects will be, indeed already are being “put to work”: a growing

proportion of surplus value is made from forms of work that require

linguistic, relational, and physical skills that can only be acquired,

not in the sphere of production, but in the sphere of reproduction; work

time and life time are effectively becoming indistinguishable-but all

that merely foreshadows the greater submission of human existence to the

process of cybernetic valorization. The immaterial work that the

Negrists present as a victory of the proletariat, a “victory over

factory discipline,” without question contributes to imperial aims,

constituting the most underhanded of domesticating apparatuses,

apparatuses for the immobilization of bodies. Proletarian

self-valorization, theorized by Negri as the ultimate subversion, is

also taking place but in the form of universal prostitution. Everyone

sells himself as best he can, sells as many parts of his existence as he

can, even resorts to violence and sabotage to do it, although

self-valorization really only measures the self-estrangement that the

value system has extorted from him, really only sanctions the massive

victory of the system. In the end, the Negrist-citizen ideology will

only serve to conceal in the Edenic attire of universal Participation

the military requirement “to associate as many prominent members of the

population, especially those who have been engaged in nonviolent action,

with the government” (Kitson), the requirement to make them participate.

That loathsome Gaullists of the Yolan Bresson-type fight for more than

twenty years for existence income, placing on it their hope for a

“transformation of social life,” should offer further proof of the true

strategic function of political Negrism. A f unction that Trinquier,

quoted by Kitson, wouldn’t have denied: “The Sine Qua Non of victory in

modern warfare is the unconditional support of the population.”

But the convergence of Negrism with the citizens’ project for total

control occurs elsewhere, not at the ideological but at the existential

level. The Negrist, a citizen to this extent, lives in denial of obvious

ethical facts by conjuring away civil war. But whereas the citizen works

to contain every expression of forms-of-life, to conserve ordinary

situations, to standardize his environment, the Negrist practices an

extreme and extremely spirited ethical blindness. To him, everything is

the same aside from the petty political calculations of which he

occasionally avails himself . Those who speak of Negri’s casuistry

therefore miss the essential point. His is a veritable disability, a

tremendous human deformity. Negri would like to be “radical” but he

can’t manage it. To what depth of the real, in fact, can a theoretician

go who declares: “I consider Marxism a science whose employers and

workers serve each other in equal measure, even if it is from different,

opposite positions”? A professor of political philosophy who confides:

“Personally, I hate intellectuals. I only feel comfortable with

working-class people (especially if they are manual workers: in fact, I

consider them among my dearest friends and teachers) and with

businessmen (I also have some excellent friends among factory-owners and

professionals)”? What is the sententious opinion worth of someone who

fails to grasp the ethical difference between a worker and an owner, who

regarding the businessmen of Le Sen tier is capable of writing: “The new

company manager is an organic deviant, a mutant, an

impossible-to-eliminate anomaly. The new union official, that is, the

new type of company manager, doesn’t worry about wages except in terms

of social income”? Someone who confuses everything, declaring that

“nothing reveals the enormous historical positivity of worker

self-valorization better than sabotage,” and recommends, for every

revolutionary possibility, “accumulating a diff erent capital”? Whatever

his claims to playing the hidden strategist behind the “people of

Seattle,” someone who lacks the most elementary personal knowledge of

himself and the world, the tiniest ethical sensitivity, can only produce

disaster, reduce everything he touches to a state of undifferentiated

flow, to shit. He will lose all the wars into which his desire to flee

compels him, and in those wars he will lose those closest to him and,

worse still, he will be incapable of recognizing his defeat. “All armed

prophets have conquered, and unarmed ones fail. In the seventies, Negri

might have understood this passage as a clarion call to frontal

collisions with the state. Decades later, Empire offers by contrast an

optimism of the will that can only be sustained by a millenarian erasure

of the distinction between the armed and the unarmed, the powerful and

the abjectly powerless” (Gopal Balakrishnan,“Virgilian Visions”)

War on Work!

“Starting in February something apparently inexplicable had begun to

shake the de pths of Milan. A ferment, a kind of awakening. The city

seemed to be coming back to life. But it was a strange life, an all too

vigorous, too violent, and above all too marginal one. A new city

appeared to be establishing itself in the metropolis. All over Milan,

everywhere, it was the same story: bands of adolescents were launching

an attack on the city. First they occupied empty houses, vacant shops,

which the baptized “proletariat youth circles.” Then, from there, they s

pread out little by little and “took over the neighborhood. “ It went

from theatrical performances to the little “pirate markets, “ not to

mention the “ex propriations. “At the height of the wave there were up

to thirty circles. Each had its headquarters, of course, and many

published small newspapers.

Milanese youth were passionate about politics and the extreme-left

groups, like the others, took advantage o f the renewed interest. More

than politics, it was about culture, a way of life, a wide-ranging

refusal of the status quo and the search for another way of life.

Milanese youth nearly in their entirety were by then aware of everything

involving the student revolts. But unlike their elders they loved Marx

and rock and roll and considered themselves freaks. [...] Fortified by

their numbers and their despair, the more-or-less politicized groups

intended to live according to their needs. The movie theaters being too

expensive, certain Saturdays they used crowbars to impose a discount on

tickets. They were out of money, so the launched a movement of

tragically simple “ex propriations, “just short of looting. A dozen of

them were enough to play the game, which involved entering a store en

masse, helping oneself, and leaving without paying. The looters were

called ‘The salami gang” because in the beginning they mainly raided

delis. Very soon jean stores and record stores were also hit. By late

1976, expro priating had become a fad, and there were few high schoolers

who hadn’t tried it at least once. All classes were thrown together: the

looters were as much the sons of factory workers as of the upper middle

class and everyone united in a huge celebration that would soon turn to

tragedy.”

(Fabrizio “CoHabo” Calvi, Camarade, P. 38)

With the exception of a tiny minority of half-wits, no one believes in

work anymore. No one believes in work anymore, but for this very reason

faith in its necessity has become all the more insistent. And for those

not put off by the total degradation of work into a pure means of

domestication, this faith most often turns into fanaticism. It is true

that one cannot be a professor, a social worker, a ticket agent, or

security guard without certain subjective after effects. That THEY now

call work what until recently was called leisure-“video game testers”

are paid to play the whole day; “artists” to play the buffoon in public;

a growing number of incompetents whom THEY name psychoanalysts,

fortune-tellers, “coaches,” or simply psychologists get handsomely paid

for listening to others whine-doesn’t seem enough to corrode this

unalloyed faith. It even seems that the more work loses its ethical

substance, the more tyrannical the idol of work becomes. The less

self-evident the value and necessity of work, the more its slaves feel

the need to assert its eternal nature. Would there really be any reason

to add that “the only real, true integration in the life of a man or a

woman is that experienced through school, through the world of

knowledge, and, at the end of a full and satisfYing school career,

through entering the workforce” (Dealing with Uncivil Behavior in

School), if the obvious reality weren’t already breaking through? In any

case, the Law gives up the game when it stops defining work in terms of

an activity and starts defining it in terms of availability: by work

THEY now only mean voluntary submission to the pure, exterior, “social”

constraint of maintaining market domination.

Faced with these inescapable facts, even the Marxist economist loses

himself in professorial paralogisms, concluding that capitalist reason

is thoroughly unreasonable. This is because the logic of the present

situation is no longer of an economic but of an ethico-political kind.

Work is the linchpin ofthe citizen factory. As such, it is indeed

necessary, as necessary as nuclear reactors, city planning, the police,

or television. One has to work because one has to feel one’s existence,

at least in part, as foreign to oneself And it is the same necessity

that compels THEM to take “autonomy” to mean “making a living for

oneself,” that is, selling oneself, and in order to do so introjecting

the requisite quantity of imperial norms. In reality, the sole

rationality driving present-day production is the production

ofproducers, the production of bodies that cannot not work. The growth

of the cultural commodities industry, of the whole industry of the

imagination, and soon that of sensations fulfills the same imperial

function of neutralizing bodies, of depressing forms-of-life, of

bloomification. Insofar as entertainment does nothing more than sustain

self-estrangement, it represents a moment of social work. But the p

icture wouldn’t be complete if we forgot to mention that work also has a

more directly militaristic function, which is to subsidize a whole

series of forms-of-life-managers, security guards, cops, professors,

hipsters, Young-Girls(see “Preliminary Materials for a Theory of the

Young Girl” [Semiotext(e): Intervention Series #12]), etc.-all of which

are, to say the least, anti-ecstatic if not anti-insurrectional.

Of the entire putrid legacy of the workers’ movement nothing stinks as

much as the culture, and now the cult, of work. It is this culture and

this culture alone, with its intolerable ethical blindness and its

professional self-hatred, that one hears groaning with each new layoff,

with each new proof that work isfinished. What one in fact ought to do

is put together a brass band, which one could, for example, call the

“Combo For the Death of Toil” (C.F.D.T.), and whose purpose would be to

turn up and play at each massive new layoff, marching to perfectly

ruinous, dissonant, balkanized harmonies, and trumpeting the end of work

and all the prodigious expanse of chaos opening up before us. Here as

elsewhere, not to have come to terms with the workers’ movement carries

a heavy price, and the diversionary power that a gas factory like ATTAC

represents in France has no other origin. Considering this, once one has

grasped the central position of work in the manufacturing of the

citizen, it isn’t too surprising that the current heir to the workers’

movement, the social movement, has suddenly metamorphosed into a

citizens’ movement.

We would be wrong to neglect the pure scandal, from the point of view of

the worker’s movement, created by practices through which the latter has

obviously been surpassed by the Imaginary Party. First, because the

privileged site of these practices is no longer the place of production

but rather the entire territory; second, because they aren’t the means

to a further end-status, greater buying power, less work, or more

freedom-but at once sabotage and reappropriation. Here again there is no

historical context that offers us more insight into these practices,

their nature, and their limits than the Italy of the ’60s and ’70s. The

whole history of “creeping May” is in fact the history of the movement’s

being surpassed, the history of the extinction of “worker centrality.”

The incompatibility of the Imaginary Party with the workers’ movement

revealed itself for what it is: an ethical incompatibility. A blatant

incompatibility, for example, in the refusal to work with which southern

workers doggedly responded to factory discipline, thus shattering the

Fordist compromise. It is to the credit of a group like Potere Operaio

that it zealously brought the “war on work” into the factories. “The

refusal to work and alienation from work are not occasional,” observed

the Gruppo Gramnsci in the early ’70s, “but rooted in an objective class

condition that the growth of capitalism ceaselessly reproduces and at

ever higher levels: the new strength of the working class stems from its

concentration and its homogeneity, stems from the fact that the

capitalist relation extends beyond the traditional factory (and in

particular to what is called the ‘service sector’). In this way, it

produces resistance, goals, and behaviors there as well, all

tendentially based on the foreignness of capitalist work, and strips

workers and employees of their residual professionalism, thus destroying

their ‘affection’ for and any other kind of potential identification

with the work that capital imposes on them.” But it was only at the end

of the cycle of worker struggles in 1 973 that the Imaginary Party

actually outstripped the movement. Indeed, at that point those who

wanted to pursue the struggle had to recognize that worker centrality

had ended and take the war out of the factory. For certain of them, like

the BR, who stuck to the Leninist alternative between economic and

political struggle, leaving the factory meant immediately launching

oneself into the realm of politics, a frontal attack on state power. For

others, in particular for the “autonomes,” it meant the politicization

of everything the workers’ movement had forgotten: the sphere of

reproduction. At the time, Lotta Continua came up with the slogan, “Take

back the city!” Negri theorizes the “social worker”-a sufficiently

elastic category to include feminists, the unemployed, the precarious,

artists, the marginal, rebellious youth-and the “diffUse factory,” a

concept that justified leaving the factory because everything, in the

last analysis, from the consumption of cultural commodities to domestic

work, from then on contributed to the reproduction of capitalist society

and, therefore, the factory was everywhere. In more or less short order,

this change led to the break with socialism and with those who, like the

BR and certain autonomous workers’ groups, wanted to believe that “the

working class in any case remains the central and governing nucleus of

communist revolution” (BR-Resolution ofthe Strategic Leadership, April

’75). The practices that brought about this ethical break immediately

set at odds those who believed they belonged to the same revolutionary

movement: auto-reductions in 1974, 200,000 Italian households refused to

pay their electricity bills-proletarian expropriations, squats, pirate

radio, armed protests, neighborhood struggles, diffuse guerrilla

warfare, counter-cultural celebrations, in short: Autonomia. In the

midst of so many paradoxical declarations-it should still be recalled

that Negri is the same schizophrenic who, at the end of twenty years of

militancy focused on the “refusal to work,” ended up concluding:

“Therefore, when we spoke of the refusal to work, one should have

understood a refusal to work in the factory” even this dissociated

personality, because of the radicalness of the period, happened to

produce a few memorable lines like the following, taken from Domination

and Sabotage: “ The self-valorization-sabotage connection, like its

opposite, prohibits us from ever having anything to do with ‘socialism,’

with its tradition, whether reformism or euro-communism. It may even be

the case that we are of a different race. We are no longer moved by

anything belonging to the cardboard-cutout project of reformism, to its

tradition, to its vile illusion. We are in a materialiry that has its

own laws, already discovered or still to be discovered through

struggle-in any case, different laws. Marx’s ‘new mode of exposition has

become the new mode of being of the class. We are here, implacably, in

the majority. We possess a method for destroying work. We have sought a

positive measure ofnon-work. A positive measure of freedom from this

shitty servitude which the bosses appreciate so much and which the

official socialist movement has always imposed on us like a badge of

honor. No, really; we can no longer say ‘socialists,’ we can no longer

accept your ignominy.” What the Movement of ’77 so violently came up

against, a movement which was the scandalous, collective assumption of

forms-of-life, was the workers’ party, the party which denigrates every

form-of-life. Thousands of prisoners allow us to gauge socialism’s

hostility toward the Imaginary Party.

The whole mistake of organized Autonomia, these “repulsive louses who

aren’t sure whether ro scratch the back of the social-democrats or that

of the Movement” (La rivoluzione 2, 1977), was to believe that the

Imaginary Party could be recognized, that an institutional mediation

would be possible. And this is the same mistake of their direct heirs,

Tute Bianche, who in Genoa believed that it was enough to behave like

cops, to denounce the “violent elements,” for the police to leave them

alone. On the contrary, we have to start from the simple fact that our

struggle is criminal from the outset and behave accordingly. Only a

power struggle guarantees us something and above all a certain impunity.

The immediate affirmation of a need or desire-in so far as it implies a

certain knowledge of oneself—ethically contravenes imperial

pacification; and it no longer has the justification of militancy.

Militancy and its critique are both in different ways compatible with

Empire; one as a form of work, the other as a form of powerlessness. But

the practice that moves beyond all this, in which a form-of-life imposes

its way of saying “I,” is bound to fail if its impact isn’t worked out

in advance. “Reestablishing the paranoid scene of politics, with its

paraphernalia of aggressiveness, voluntarism, and repression, always

runs the risk of stifling and repelling reality, that which exists, the

revolt that emerges from the transformation of everyday life and from

the break with mechanisms of constraint” (La rivoiuzione 2) .

It was Berlinguer, then head of the PCI, who shortly before the Bologna

congress in September ’77 uttered these historic words: “It is not some

plague-victims (untorelli) who will destroy Bologna.” He summarized

Empire’s opinion of us: we are untorelli, contagious agents, only good

for extermination. And in this war of annihilation we should fear the

worst from the left, because the left is the official trustee of the

faith in work, of the particular fanaticism for negating all ethical

difference in the name of an ethics of production. “We want a society of

work and not a society of those aided by the state,” Jospin, that lump

of Calvinist-Trotskyite unhappiness, replied to the “Jobless Movement.”

The credo exemplifies the dismay of a being, the Worker, whose only

sense of something beyond production lies in degradation, leisure,

consumption, or self-destruction, a being that has so utterly lost

contact with its own inclinations that it breaks down if not moved by

some external necessity, by some finality. We should recall, for the

occasion, that commercial activity, when it appeared as such in ancient

societies, couldn’t be named by itself since it was not only deprived of

ethical substance but the very deprivation was raised to the level of an

autonomous activity. It could therefore only be defined negatively, as a

lack of schole for the Greeks, a-scholia, and a lack of otium for the

Latins, neg-otium. And it is still-with its celebrations, with its

protests fine a se stesso, with its armed humor, its science of drugs,

and its dissolving temporality-this old art of non work in the Movement

of ’77 that makes Empire tremble the most.

What else, in the end, makes up the plane of consistency on which our

lines of flight emerge? Is there any other precondition to developing

play among forms-of-life, any other precondition to communism?