Friday, November 4, 2011

Circles

A problem that has propelled my interest—and participation—in Occupy is the scission between the discourse it produces and the sociality it activates. The categories through which Occupy interprets itself in the media are typically the categories of power: one would believe it to be little more than a critique of finance capital and a demand for the return of a Keynesian state seeking to promote full employment. (These weak reformist demands are only radical to the extent that they are structurally not realizable.) We will miss the radical nature of Occupy if we limit ourselves to asking how effective it may be in producing reforms to the state, to finance, to capitalism in general. The new question—“What will victory for Occupy look like?”—is a trap. Asking Occupy to articulate a set of aims transcendent to itself is a means of asking Occupy to get innocuous, to fall in with official discourse before it produces a genuinely political, and even socio-ontological, event. Luckily, this event has already taken place, and it takes place everyday. We can descry a radical sociality that exceeds discourses of reformism in the repertoire of practices now common to the Occupy movement—practices that have not yet, but certainly will, find a conceptual language. The point now is to take this radical potential in hand, to begin to interpret the world from the concepts implicit in Occupy’s praxis. We need to become preoccupied with ourselves in order to limn the outline of the other world we might make.


What follows is something of an ethology, notes taken while on site. If the potentiality immanent to the movement is exorbitant to the outer world it critiques, we need to get a read on this potentiality, to see what we ourselves are doing in our average everyday interactions at City Hall. This is one attempt to build a set of keywords by which we might see the social logic implicit in Occupy’s modality of dwelling.


*


Circles


Oct. 6. Drumbeats, then, and subtle movements as I, we, stand around. A carnival atmosphere, as if the future we would like to make is already present. And in many ways it is: there is something of a Sunday taking place here as we gather. No one is working; rather, we are coordinating ourselves around a single site, sharing space, fashioning a new being in common. The tragedy inheres here: a communist sociality advenes at City Hall, enabling the critique of capitalism we put forth, but this advent of the commons seeks its own enfolding into non-revolutionary time. As if the truth of Sunday consisted in looking forward to Monday. But one should ignore the reformist discourse—more jobs, regulated Wall Street, and so on. One should instead listen to the drums and participate in this non-purposive sociality. Really, one cannot help but do so, for the laughter and shouting and clapping touch one, and one claps in response. The circulation of this affect encircles one; it figures the demos as a circle.


Affect indexes the state of the social. One is enraged, frustrated, hopeful, indifferent…But the communicability of affect means that it exceeds its indexical function (as sign) and produces events (as force). The telos of early utopian socialists—Fourier in particular—understood freedom as little more than the freeing of affect. Fourier desired the unimpeded flow of affect, passional energy linking man’s materiality to the world in common. Passions here literally make the world, which is defined as a set of energetic forces. The Fourierist phalanstery was to both prefigure this world (serving as an index of the future) and produce it (its example and sheer power forcing all to mimic its arrangements). In demarcating a site for being in common (like a phalanstery, like City Hall), a space is opened to coordinate the flow of affective intensities. Feeling makes this world; the movement is thus irreducible to slogans, cognized self-reflections—indices without force. It is for this reason that the movement’s assertion (“This is what democracy looks like”) is a failed apperception. “This is what democracy feels like” would be closer, but the dangling simile keeps the statement in the realm of the theoretical-reflective. It would be best to say: “This is democracy, and it feels.”


Feels what? The impossible “This” of the utterance, the force of its taking-place that is irreducible to indexing what-takes-place. It feels itself, gives itself to itself to be felt. But there can be no moment of reflexivity (the “this” and the “like” of the slogan assuming a phenomeno-political Subject-who-feels-and-knows). For the “this” that indexes the affectivity of democracy indexes nothing more (or less) than its spacing, and thus is striation, inadequation, and non-totality. The “this” of the slogan is an open broken space in which affect shares itself out—the kratia of the demos. It is not identical to itself, it is not like anything else: this “this” cuts open a space to let us share and play, one with another. And so, once more, drums and dance.


The origins of democracy (re)produce its telos. Democracy literally gets ahead of itself: the pulsation of affect, its sharing and intensification, intend nothing more than the extension of this intension through time. It neither begins nor ends: it performs its telos in its origination, in the cut of the “this.” And so the dialectics of the telos make no sense here. What “this” wants is to continue, but moreso—a process that entails continually extending the referent of the “this,” transforming the bare punctum into an expanding scene of circulation.


Circles, circulation, the circularity of ending at a beginning, the shape of a drum, the circles in which we sit—democracy figures itself circularly. This makes sense: I am describing the passage of non-purposive time, a social time with no transcendent aim or object that would cut a path out of the circle. (As Heidegger always claims, the difficulty is not getting out of a circle, but getting into one.) The revolutionary aim is “this”: to continue to revolve around and circulating through this aimless, auto-referential, auto-telic site. Democratic autoaffection is circulation, it affects itself as a circle, and it only desires itself. Which means others.

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

Autumn's Children

I haven't used this blog in forever, but given that Occupy is such a Jamesian event, and given that I'm writing constantly about Occupy for myself, I figured that I might as well begin posting. The piece below was written on October 16th. Happily, it's already dated.


Autumn's Children

We are witnessing, we are told, the emergence of an “American Autumn”—a moment of radical political possibility inspired by the pro-democratic movement called the “Arab Spring.” The citation of influence is symbolically valuable: it suggests that U.S. democracy is being revitalized, not threatened, by Arab-world populist movements. Despite the value of this discursive shift, we must be careful with our metaphors. By narrating global struggle as if it participated in the same unilinear chronology as seasonal change, the figure of an “American Autumn” threatens to hide from view the persistence of radical struggle in the Arab world. We must keep in mind that the “Arab Spring” and the “American Autumn” are now synchronous events. Despite this and other problems, the figure of an “American Autumn” conveys more than we might think. By recovering the meanings implicit in this figure, we can get a read on both the limits to and potentials for radical change in our political present.


The domination of a state by financial capitalism—the motivating complaint of the Occupy movement—is an autumnal phenomenon. Such is the conclusion that Fernand Braudel reaches in the third volume of his magisterial Civilization and Capitalism. Describing the process by which London overtook Amsterdam as the premier trade entrepot of Europe in the late-eighteenth century, Braudel suggests that Dutch capitalists’ reorientation toward finance capitalism contributed to their own demise. They “dropped the bird in hand to go chasing shadows,” abandoning the trade of material goods in favor of “a life of speculation and rentierdom.” They left “all the best cards to London” and “even financ[ed] her rival’s rise.” Far from being particular to the history of Amsterdam capitalism, Braudel suggests that the turn to finance signals the beginning of the end of any globally dominant power’s hegemonic reign: “Every capitalist development of this order seems, by reaching the stage of financial capitalism, to have in some sense announced its maturity: it [is] a sign of autumn.”


The U.S. has long since fallen into the autumn of finance capital, Giovanni Arrighi argues in The Long Twentieth Century. Arrighi charts the rise and fall of four hegemonic powers (Genoa, Holland, Britain, and the U.S.), substantiating Braudel’s claim that financial capital signals the autumn of one hegemonic power and the emergence of a new one. According to Arrighi, American autumn began decades ago: “Underneath the accelerating inflation and growing monetary disorder of the 1970s we can detect in new and more complex forms the dynamic typical of the signal crises of all previous systemic cycles of accumulation.” The loose monetary policy of the 1970s—designed to forestall inflation in the domestic U.S. economy—did not spur the “material expansion of the U.S.-centered capitalist world-economy.” Rather, the “liquidity created by U.S. monetary authorities…turned into petrodollars and Eurodollars,” which “re-emerged in the world economy as the competitors of the dollars issued by the U.S. government.” The Reagan administration attempted to repatriate this mobile money through pecuniary incentives (high nominal interest rates) and a drive toward financial deregulation. We know the result: “US and non-US corporations and financial institutions [gained] virtually unrestricted freedom of action in the United States.” What followed seems like a period of economic health—a new belle époque. But the flowers of finance capital are more like dying leaves—a multi-hued but ephemeral beauty that soon turns brown and ugly.


Arrighi’s analysis outlines some of the structural limitations of the Occupy movement. The Occupy movement began with a simple plea. It asked that the state occupy a position of responsibility, that it guarantee the availability of jobs, health care, education, and so on to all citizens. This is now a structural impossibility. If the turn to finance marks the transfer of power from one hegemon to another, the state to which U.S. protesters direct their pleas for financial overhaul, jobs, and economic redistribution is less empowered to act than we might hope. There is no political power capable of resolving today’s economic crisis. The neoliberal reforms through which the U.S. attempted to retain global hegemony effectively disembedded economic processes from territorial state control. Financial deregulation and free trade policies have produced a situation in which states cannot generate revenue by siphoning from the flows of capital traversing their boundaries. To attempt to build revenue from capital flows is to invite capital flight. The loss of revenue sources means that states are largely dependent on financial markets to provide basic services. And so the House’s primary constituent is Moody’s. Critiquing the House for this reality is a useless strategy. Their hands are tied; or, as Marge said long ago, there is no alternative. We have to give up our nostalgia for the Keynesian state. It won’t come back.


If the global economic crisis exceeds the scope of any single sovereign state, we might be tempted to look to supranational organizations to promote economic restructuring. Yet, the supranational organizations that do exist are feeble, lacking mechanisms to respond to mass demands and even the procedures to entertain them. For instance, many aspects of neoliberal reforms (and, indeed, capitalism itself) are in direct contradiction to the UN’s Universal Declaration of Human Rights (see, for instance, articles 22-26 of the UDHR), but obviously the UN has no mechanisms to enforce these rights, nor do we have the ability to present petitions or demands to the UN. As Adam Smith pointed out in that revolutionary year of 1776, capitalists always organize better than workers, and the truly functioning supranational organizations and mechanisms are those that have produced and reproduced the current crisis: the IMF, WTO, NAFTA, GATT… Both nation-states and supranational states are weak indeed compared to the power possessed by these globe-making organizations and mechanisms. Given the global scope of the crisis, it is unsurprising that we’ve seen the Occupy movement spread over the past few days. It’s autumn everywhere, and has been for some time.


Indeed, many involved in the youthful Occupy movements—I include myself—were born into this autumn, we’ve lived with its effects throughout our lives, and we’ve never known anything else. The destruction of the Keynesian state, the subsequent racialized war against the poor, the less metaphorical debt-fueled wars through which the U.S. has injects liquidity into the economy and attempts securing resources for itself, the financialization of daily life in the form of home mortgages, credit card debt, student debt, and the pegging of retirement funds to the whims of financial markets…these are the facts of the world into which we autumnal children were born. The rhetoric of the Occupy movement is saturated with a nostalgia for something—let’s call it a springtime—most of us have never experienced first-hand: that is, a political community that has not abandoned its citizens to the mystical workings of a self-regulating markets in goods, labor, and capital.


While this nostalgia makes Occupy rhetoric banal at best or naïve at worst, it has generated practical effects on the ground that prefigure new modalities of democratic community. Occupy camps have rearticulated subsistence needs (water, food, shelter, basic sanitation, even medical attention) with political participation. No one at a General Assembly need be hungry. In its commitment to feeding those who gather, Occupy demonstrates the viability of non-market modes of material distribution. (That the movement relies on donations—and thus the corporations that they protest—is a problem requiring resolution.) No doubt the situation is rather austere, but Occupiers seem more interested in the vibrant democratic sociality in which they participate than in pursuing an endless accumulation of wealth. The definition and experience of work subsequently shifts. Working at Occupy is not a burden nor a means to something more than work itself; it is the mode by which Occupiers make themselves responsible to and for one another. In short, Occupiers are doing far more than their slogans say: they are surrogating for the very state that has abandoned its obligations to them, and doing so in a radically democratic fashion.


The figure of “American Autumn” is split. On one hand, it names the melancholic fact that the state’s facilitation of finance capitalism has left it unable to meet the demands we make upon it. This situation produced the rage and anger that drove many to camp out in public spaces across the U.S. These protesters refuse the fact that the state has made itself structurally irresponsible to our pleas—time will tell whether these pleas will have practical effects or remain a utopian cry for a just state. On the other hand, “American Autumn” names a potentiality irreducible to explicit critiques of the articulation of the state and finance. It names the production of new communities, new forms of responsibility, new articulations of material subsistence and political belonging. This is the real value of the Occupy movement; this is where the work is happening. If autumn is a season of decay, it is also the time of harvest.

Friday, February 13, 2009

With the Sharecroppers

I’ve been spending some time recently attempting to come to terms with the ways in which we periodize James. To begin: I think most of these periodizing operations are useless and stupid, reducing James’ thought and theory to biography. (The sheer number of biographical and biochronological introductions to James never fails to anger me. I think two were published in 2008 alone. Ya basta.) In the interests of, frankly, messing with the ways in which we emplot James’ intellectual life, I have been looking for soft spots in the narrative vis-à-vis James’ texts. What follows is an essay that I am preparing for (hopefully) publication.

The trotskyist/post-trotskyist distinction seem to me to be most unstable. Not so much because James didn’t break with Trotsky – he decidedly did – but because we take this break as an obviously good thing. The break with Trotsky is conflated with his break with vanguardism; his break with vanguardism (at least in the special, special environment of the northeastern American academy) is conflated with his understanding of the autonomy of black politics. (Never mind that Trotsky, initially, was far more an autonomist.) In short, the break is read as an escape from the confining, conservative-Left politics of Marxism.

Never mind that James’ theoretical justifications are rarely read closely; never mind that James is frequently reduced to an oracle who made pronouncements with which we might or might not agree. The point of this post is to deny the equation of break = anti-vanguardism = good politics. James’ anti-vanguardist break leads him to an organicism (which I too gleefully have already written about) that we need to question. The fact is this: James’ anti-vanguardism is justified through a cultural analysis that tends to exclude non-purposive socialities from political consideration. Indeed, tracing the vanishing position of the Party/intellectual – a position that indicates gaps and ruptures in the field of the social – we can see an entirely immanentist, monodetermined society taking shape in James’ hands. Indeed, the disappearance of the intellectual in James’ post-trotskyist theories do not represent a gain but a problematic loss of heterogeneity in his understanding of the social. (This loss of heterogeneity occurs even as James supposedly sets free black politics from Marxism.) The vanishing space of exteriority serves to consolidate an immanentist, organicist vision of society that renders alternative socialities illegible and illegitimate.

James theorized his historical conjuncture by activating two key strands in Marx. Firstly, James argued (in texts like State Capital and World Revolution [1951] and Facing Reality [1958]) that society has been totally incorporated into capitalism; real subsumption has occurred. Henceforth, there is no outside to capitalism; everyone – and he states this categorically – has their being, in America, through capitalism. The result is a general recoding of subjectivity (cf. James 1999, 148). Secondly, James claimed that capitalism – and particularly American industrial capitalism – had activated the full potential of humans as laborers. The American worker appears as a fully developed, “universal” subject: he knows that he wants and he is able to produce it. James’ critique of Trotsky’s Revolution Betrayed occurs through the recently translated Economic and Philosophic Manuscripts, which James reads as examining alienation directly in the process of production (and not in the spheres of consumption or distribution, as Trotsky argued). To repeat, James deploys an analysis of real subsumption of society by capitalism and a narrative in which American capitalism fully developed the potentialities of the laborer.

In this analysis of American society, the vanguard party has been left without a place to stand. With the real subsumption of society under capitalism, the former transcendent position of the vanguard (who bore the consciousness of progress) is erased from the political map. Society is now immanent to capitalism, and produces knowledge of itself immanently (cf. James 2005, 108). Furthermore, the vanguard always lags behind the worker, whom James wrote of as being the self-conscious dynamic force of history. The worker’s potential has been unlocked through his own labor, and the party is not required to tell the worker his own potentiality (James 2006, 96). The worker became theorized as self-standing and self-activating (cf. James 1986, 117; and see my last post on into the problematic of Selbstbetätigung). The shift in actors (party to worker) entails a shift in spacing. The location of the political moves from the fragmented space that that the vanguard sought to integrate through its synthesizing position, to the factory, which “is the single stable, unifying, and integrating element in […] society” (James 2006, 42).

This theory is bold and brilliant and under-discussed. It is also fundamentally problematic. James’ analysis of the real subsumption of society and of the worker’s production of his own potential trucks in a set of organicist theories and metaphors. The organicism of society (which is “an enormously complex organism”) works with the integrating and totalizing figure of the factory to produce an entirely immanent ontology centered on purposive production. The proletariat moves itself of itself for itself. The contradiction of James’ conjuncture was over who would determine the needs and the purposes of society, a contradiction James writes of as “this antagonistic relation between an administrative elite calculating and administering the needs of others, and people in a social community determining their own needs” (James 2006, 72). The political question was: will the proletariat be auto-purposive or have its needs determined by an exterior apparatus of control?

The elaboration of an immanent purpose through production thus becomes the goal of James’ socialism. Everything exterior to the organism of the proletariat presents itself as a risk to the being of the proletariat. This is particularly marked in the case of intellectuals, where the Party morphs into the repressive State. But it is visible throughout the social text, where only productively purposive or creative desires are given political and social legibility and legitimacy. Indeed, James even takes the alternative society formed by his mariners, renegades, and castaways and transmutes it into a floating mini-factory (James 2008, 8). Recall that special hate is reserved for Ishmael, the intellectual who exists alongside and beside the laboring community. Alternative socialities, non-purposive modes of being in the world, are coded as dangerous or useless. The vanguard party was theorized out of existence and use because the proletariat became the knower and producer of its own potential and purpose; this rejection of the vanguard served to consolidate an ontology of the world that is entirely immanent and purposive, in which society is a total organism working toward an end that it gives itself. The intellectual vanishes as society becomes more homogenous. As I read James, the disappearance of the intellectual marks the disappearance of non-purposive socialities. As a result of the homogenization of being, James ignores and renders non-political non-purposive modes of being in the world.

Marx codes – and this I can only assert for the moment – non-purposive socialities through the term “community.” (We saw above that James locates the “social community” within capitalism as determining its own purpose.) Part of the work of capitalism, at least as it is described in the Grundrisse, is the invagination of community by capitalism. Indeed, where capitalist exchange once began on the edges and fringes of community, it eventually comes to constitute community’s inorganic being: “Where money is not itself the community, it must dissolve the community” (Grundrisse 224). Marx’s term for community here is not Gemeinschaft but Gemeinwesen, which more directly inscribes the problematic of being, and which might be rendered “being-in-common.” The violence that money effects on the community is to dispose what was “being-in-common” to being-for-wealth: “When labor is wage labor, and its direct aim is money, then general wealth is posited as its aim and object” (224). Money recodes non-purposive socialities and forces them into purposive dispositions. James’ post-trotskyist work would agree.

Indeed, it would be foolish to give into the “romance of the community”. However, I would like to work a critique of James through this barely formulated notion of Gemeinwesen. We can set something like “community” loose through James (and Marx) without giving into a nostalgia for something that is always already lost. If part of the historical violence of capitalism is to recode “community” such that it must dispose itself purposively, one risks restating the effects of capitalism by assuming this newly purposive “common being” as the location where politics occurs, as the political subject position. If capitalism operates by encoding all relationships as purposive (even if this purpose as desire is not derived from lack), does this necessitate that we only look for politics within money relations (and the network of relations that money signifies, including production)? Did Gemeinwesen, and whatever it signifies, disappear one day forever from the ontological constitution of subjects? I would like to argue that one can look for the “outside” of capitalism – or that which capitalism has dissolved – even inside of capitalism.

The purpose of what follows is to determine the extent to which this vanishing Gemeinwesen can reappear to interrupt politics of purposivity. This interruption, as I hope to show, is productive. Gemeinwesen is never defined by Marx: it is a nearly blank sign whose presence can serve as a resource for generating new readings. Below I will substitute Gemeinwesen with Heidegger’s Mitsein in a reading of C.L.R. James’ pre-break work. Alternative socialities lost in the expulsion of the intellectual might be recoverable without recourse to vanguardism. If James’ reaction to capitalism’s coding of Gemeinwesen involves, in part, the eventual erasure of the vanguard party, how does Heidegger’s Mitsein allow us to determine a new position for the intellectual? Does the sentence “Where money is not itself Mitsein, it must dissolve Mitsein” seem too radical an alteration of Marx’s meaning? And if this substitution is allowable, can we not ask after the political future of being-with another in a relation not reducible to purposive activity?

Classing Sharecroppers
James’ essay “With the Sharecroppers” (1941) documents the struggle of a sharecropping community in south east Missouri. Importantly, James wrote the article some years after the struggle he documents. He was attempting to learn ways in which political organizations could effectively assist the sharecroppers. (One result is the pamphlet that he wrote for the strike of 1942, which I discuss below.) The content of this struggle – what it is for – is by no means certain, and one of the purposes of James’ text is to explore the constitution of the sharecroppers’ revolutionary position. By the essay’s end, James appears to have reached a conclusion: the sharecroppers are not necessarily for anything so much as they are against the “general conditions” in which they “live and work” (James 1941, 30, 32).

The essay divides along lines whose relations need to be more fully established, along the lines of “work” and “life”. On one hand are economic considerations and a politics located in the relations of production as they articulate with Roosevelt’s Agriculture Adjustment Act. Here, the sharecroppers are shown to be subject to manipulations on the part of landowners in order that the latter can receive a greater share of the subsidies that the AAA promised to cotton growers. One political strand in the text operates to expose these machinations and manipulations, to show how the sharecroppers responded, and to establish protocols for studying the situation in accordance with economic demands. The other strand concerns itself with the affective and existential dimensions of (mostly black) sharecropper life in the South. The experience of being a sharecropper does not map in any transparent way onto the structural conditions that produce the environment of the sharecropper. James marks this experience through terms like “terror”; the sharecropper is exposed and vulnerable to violence without any hope or chance for redress (22). The politics emerging from “life” are less clear and obvious than those emerging from “work”; however, “hate” and negation constitute the affective dimensions of this political impulse (28).

Marxian politics have frequently located politics solely in the sphere of work or in networks of distribution. Classes, which name economically politicized identities, are formed or are located within either production relations (the boss and the worker) or within a wider social web that determines access to consumption and to political power. In the traditional Marxist determination, classes are structural categories existent regardless of a given class’s self-knowledge of itself as a class. In such a situation, the class exists in-itself; it is not aware of itself or of its interests; it is pre-political. The movement from pre-political to political existence entails a given class shifting from being in-itself to for-itself; it becomes aware of its being (or it calls itself into being, or is called into being) as a class with a unified interest. Prior to politicization, class elements exist beside one another, but lack organization or shape. A class in-itself “is formed by the simple addition of isomorphous magnitudes, much as potatoes in a sack form a sack of potatoes” (Marx 1973, 239).

The movement to class for-itself – giving shape to the sack of potatoes, as it were – turns what was unconsciously held in common, like work or lived conditions, and establishes this commonality as the basis for a collective interest or desire. This movement, however, is not necessarily derivable from the class’s existence in itself; the movement from passivity to activity, from unconsciousness to self-consciousness, might require a push from the outside. One such technic for the establishment of a class for-itself is the party, as theorized through a Leninist tradition. The Leninist/vanguardist party supplies the revolutionary consciousness that a class-in-itself lacks. If the pre-political class is “incapable of asserting [its] class interest in [its] own name,” the party applies a name to a class in an attempt to establish that class as for itself (Marx 1973, 239).

Naming marks a direction of purpose, a tendency. Ideally, the vanguardist party’s application of the name is a constitutive speech act that calls what was in-itself to a position of purposivity. If we recognize that class in-itself is nothing but a set of structural conditions for the possibility of that class becoming for-itself, the act of naming constitutes an historical event insofar as it introduces a new, conscious actor into history (even if that actor’s full entrance into history is only temporally imaginable through recourse to a projected future). These classes, now historical actors, derive their status from the economic/political structuring conditions that produced them. Whether or not the name actually “fits” (if the proletariat has ever existed, etc.), naming establishes the lines of historical and political legibility. Furthermore, the act of naming gives a false unity to the entity constituted through naming. That is, the catachresis of class typically involves the hierarchization of one element of identity over another, and an abstraction that maintains one possible subject determination at the cost of all others.

This is all to say, then, that Marxism obscures other socialities that could be constitutive of a politics. Class-in-itself erases other socialities by indicating lack. The in-itself-ness of a given class marks it as pre-political and constituted through an almost dimwitted sociality (being beside one another as potatoes in a sack); as for-itself, it marks a self-conscious, purposive incorporated subject. Class is a catachresis that functions to abstract one determination (the purposive economic subject) as politically actionable. At each moment, something constitutive to all of these categories is being occluded as having political potential, something that James above marked as “life.”

Apposition / Opposition
James’ essay begins by establishing sharecroppers as the subjects of his care. As I will spend a lot of time with this paragraph, I will reproduce a large part of it:
Among the one-third of the nation that lives in direst poverty and greatest misery are thousands upon thousands of sharecroppers, Negro and white, in Arkansas, Missouri, and other states. Ill housed, ill-clad, ill-fed, they daily feel the severest lash of landlord and government. But despite the most vicious exploitation, despite terror – yes, actual, real terror – and despite starkest oppression, these are men whose spirits have not been broken, who stand ready to fight with every worker against class tyranny. They hunger for bread and they hunger for freedom… (22)
What is a sharecropper? Following what we read above from Marx, the sharecropper class seems fated to remain in-itself due to structural conditions: limited access to consumption, geographic spread, its racially mixed composition. In fact, these sharecroppers do not appear much different than the “small-holding peasant” whom Marx considers in that famous passage from the Eighteenth Brumaire. One mode of organizing – which James names Stalinist – would involve establishing a union as the representative of the sharecroppers, who would then negotiate for wages and such with the landowners (32). This union would engage in the economistic abstraction and catachresis that I discussed above.

Rhetorically, however, the sharecropper is constituted quite differently. Here, the sharecropper is coded as part of an extreme case (“Among the one-third of the nation that lives in direst poverty…”). The naming of the sharecropper splits it from the other two-thirds of poor, miserable people. The name of “sharecropper” is both a separation and a unification: it marks likeness (a shared situation of poverty) and some form of difference (through – at least – occupation). The economic name here functions as a separation; “work” interrupts the posited existential unity of the impoverished and miserable.

This analytic separation of the sharecropper from the remainder of the country’s impoverished does not serve to form the “sharecropper” as internally coherent and unified, however. “Work” is in turn interrupted, this time by two lived categories placed in apposition to one another and to sharecropper itself: “sharecroppers, Negro and white.” The “sharecropper” is constituted (in part) as the apposition of two potentially antagonistic predicates. The appositive relation of black and white to the “sharecropper” establishes the sharecropper on an unsteady terrain of relation of substantive to substantive. Reading for apposition rather than reading for modification entails very real political decisions. If one reads “sharecroppers, Negro and white” as a displacement of adjectival modifiers (i.e., “white and Negro sharecroppers”), then the “sharecropper” is situated as a unifying element, an abstraction that reduces potential differences to the position of modifier. Reading for apposition, however, retains the complexity of relationship, insofar as it renders “white” and “Negro” as substantive, self-standing identities that cannot in any easy way simply modify a more important abstraction.

Apposition is a strategy that allows differences to function while retaining a relation to an apparently abstracted/abstracting identity. The OED defines apposition in a few helpful ways: “3. The placing of things in close superficial contact; the putting of distinct things side by side in close proximity. 4. The fact or condition of being in close contact” (OED). Apposition is thus a spatial function (whether we understand this as cartographic space, social space, existential space, etc.); it brings things “side by side in close proximity.” Apposition relates, through proximity, two distinct things to one another. It is not a relation of predication (“the sharecropper is black”) or modification (“the white sharecropper”), but a setting beside of one another in the space opened up by the label “sharecropper.”

The class-name sharecropper can establish two opposed procedures. On one hand, the class-name can establish a politics taken to be emerging from an essential (thought abstractly produced) subject. The class-name would thus make legible a certain interest, assisting in the transformation of the sharecroppers into a purposive political body. The catachrestic operation of naming would be disavowed, and the political program would proceed as if a unified “sharecropper” class existed (or should exist, as vanguardist thought tends to operate in the imperative). On the other hand, the class-name can function as “perfectly neutral name, the blank part of the text,” deployed as a “theoretical fiction to entitle the project of reading” (Derrida 74; Spivak 280). The class-name can generate a heuristic through which we read appositive relations as they occur in a world.

James shuttles between these two options. His text is unstable insofar as he desires to allow apposed differences to interrupt and to feed one another, even as he is simultaneously a party operative invested in a notion of class politics. Indeed, we see this shuttling in a single sentence:
But despite the most vicious exploitation, despite terror – yes, actual, real terror – and despite starkest oppression, these are men whose spirits have not been broken, who stand ready to fight with every worker against class tyranny. (22)
Here, a series of conditions are set in relation to one another: “exploitation,” “terror,” “oppression.” The anaphoric setting-beside of exploitation, terror, and oppression can be read as apposition, in which case none of these structuring conditions retains analytic or political priority. However, this chain of conditions could also be translated into an hierarchical grammar: “exploitation” moves to class, “terror” to race, “oppression” to an odd space between race and class, where the Second International would locate the “national minorities”. The organization of these terms effectively reduces the apposing forces to a sociological chain: class - race - nation.* A second or third internationalist Marxism always effectively established class as the “general equivalent” to these other “values”; the positing of class as the basis of politics incorporates these differences in the interest of establishing a stable subject. James’s sentence ends by performing this reduction/incorporation, in that “men” (a blank name for those living in the appositional space constituted by exploitation, terror, and oppression) are replaced by “workers” who have the purpose of defeating “class tyranny.” The subjects-in-apposition (those men – and there must be more than one – constituted through terror, exploitation, oppression) yield to the incorporated class subject-in-opposition.

The class-name of worker in this paragraph functions to restrain the appositive reality in which these “men” are caught. The class-name functions as an abstracting/catachrestic mechanism that establishes a purposive politics stemming from an incorporated subject. This rhetorical movement is not specific to Marxist organization: the simulation of an nonconflictual identity is common to most formal political movements. Indeed, one could say that the very formality of the formal political requires a proper subject whose name is necessarily catachrestic. In short, my point is not to abject “Marxist” or class politics in order to substitute for it equally problematic (but possibly dematerialized) political identities. Nor should an attention to appositional subjectivities lead to a civil social organizational model of coalition building. Rather, I am following James as he describes the political location of subjects-in-apposition before they are (or even as they are or while they are) directed by the purposive abstraction/catachresis of opposition.

It should be noted, finally, that James of the early 40’s (and even through Notes on Dialectics, though there things begin to tilt into an organicist language) was self-conscious regarding the artificiality and exteriority of “purpose” to the entity that was being organized as purposive. That is, James did not imagine that a political purposivity naturally or essentially emerged from “the worker” once the worker had received his name. In a 1943 article on Sidney Hook, James takes issue with Hook’s characterization of Marxist historical philosophy. Hook, James writes, sees Marxism as endorsing a nearly theological teleology that is scientifically untenable; for Hook’s Marx, the proletarian’s purpose is inscribed in the fabric of time. James responds:
[An entity like a river] acts that way because that is its nature, and my business as a scientist is to examine that, and not look for the hand of God or any outside agency. On this use of “purpose”, both Hegel and Engels, as we see, had common ground. But both Marx and Hegel understood quite clearly that you could never finally prove this purpose or any necessity purely by empirical observation. […] As Engel’s says: “The empiricism of observation alone can never adequately prove necessity…. But the proof of necessity lies in human activity, in experiment, in work.” Could anything be simpler? (James 1943, 55)
“Purpose” is not verifiable as a fact within the world. The proof of the philosophical attribution of purposivity rests in changing the world itself. (Here James interprets the eleventh thesis.) The attribution of “purpose” establishes the agency of the actor (not “the hand of God or any outside agency”) and the necessity of the actor’s work within the world to make true the attribution of purpose. Establishing purpose is thus a program.

The techne of purposivity operates at cross-purposes with the assumed agency of the purposive subject: even the internally coherent agent requires a naming from outside to have its purpose rendered legible. James gets around this in his Johnson-Forrest texts by extending the function of naming to the working class itself: the proletariat, in production, produces knowingly its own purpose (cf. James 2005, 78, 88, 109). This position is coterminous with James’ increasing organicism. We do not, however, need to follow James down this path. Indeed, James’ sharecroppers (white and Negro, exploited, terrified, and oppressed) raise another set of questions: what politics belong to the non-purposive? Where do these politics occur?

Apposition; or, Mitsein
The politics of purposivity demand the catachrestic/abstracting production of the subject-in-opposition. Naming, as we saw above with Marx, marks the moment of a class’s becoming for-itself. Beside the name I placed the apposed conditions and identities of non-class subject – those elements that must be sublated in the production of the class. The gamble that I am taking is that appositional subjectivities productively lack the purposivity of the oppositional incorporated subject. This being said, apposition is not opposed to opposition. Indeed, one might say that a politics of apposition is apposed to a politics of opposition. The possibilities presented by this apposition will occupy the remainder of this paper.

As I discussed above, James’ concerns in his essay are bifurcated along the lines of “work” (and its formal political apparatuses and economic structures) and “life” (which I described as the experience of living in the world of the sharecropper). We now see, however, that this apparent analytical division actually establishes a different lens as well as a new politics. “Work” and “life” appose one another. One might say that work and life partake in different ontological coding. If the ontological (and political) function of work in Marx and James is clear, the function of living or life is more obscure. Indeed, James eventually seems to subsume life into work through an organicist analytic of the real subsumption of society by capitalism; it is, of course, this problem that propelled this paper. James does, however, provide us with an alternative way of discussing life. Usefully, this different mode comes through Heidegger. In a lecture on Wilson Harris’ sui generis and difficult The Palace of the Peacock, James deploys Being and Time to make sense of the novel. From this lecture, and in particular James’ discussion of Heidegger, we can take a number of things.

Firstly, James establishes the “world” not simply as a product of man’s past labor but as what Heidegger would call a “referential totality”: “May I say that everybody has a philosophical view of the world and of politics and of literature and everything else. He may not know it […] but he has one” (Heidegger 160; James 1980, 157). Secondly, this “philosophical view of the world” or “referential totality” establishes itself as prior to activity that accomplishes aims or goals; an interpretation of the world, even if it is unconscious, is prior to work within the world, insofar as any changing of the world requires the constitution of the world, which is always already a philosophical movement. James highlights this through reading the reiterative narrative of the novel, in which the death of characters reveals their disposition toward and interpretation of the world as determining their activity within it (James 1980, 158). Thirdly, James describes Heidegger’s concern for “everyday life,” “the life that is lived by you and me and Heidegger himself” (James 1980, 160). The everyday, for James, becomes a space of the inauthentic, in which one is given over to “idle talk” and where the world appears to one as an “average” or as a fact” (James 1980, 160). The everyday is recuperated by James through an experience of Being-there. For James, recognizing one’s Dasein begins an “authentic existence.”

This language of authenticity might strike us as problematic. However, James deploys Dasein not in order to produce an existential ethics but instead to attend to a world-forming activity that is not reducible to “work.” James thus fixates on the existential operation of Lichtung and its relationship to the “truth” of Dasein:
Heidegger says that although Plato and Aristotle knew better, they set us on a path which has made us completely lose sight of what truth is. He says truth is in nobody’s mind. You have to find out truth by being there […] Truth is covered over and the find out of truth means you uncover what is there, but it can be uncovered not by philosophy, not by knowledge of any kind, by the fact of dasein. […] And the dasein, the “being there”, is an uncovering of the truth of Being that exists. (James 1980, 161)
Being-there is for James an activity that clears and uncovers the world of Being. This “uncovering’ of the world – or this clearing of the world so that Being can appear – is not an operation that occurs in thought; it is not an epistemological problem. Nor is it merely a problem of work or activity, for reasons I discussed above. The uncovering of the world is an ontological problem specific to “life”.

A question remains, however: what is the technology by which “truth” is uncovered, by which a space for Being is cleared, by which a world emerges as a world? James is categorical here: “The means he uses to find what he is finding out, to live an authentic existence, is language […] Language” (James 1980, 161). Language uncovers the truth of Dasein’s being in the world. Yet, “language is not a tool”; language is not equipment or a thing, in Heidegger’s terms (James 1980, 161). James inscribes language as the element that makes man’s existence possible: “In Heidegger’s view man lives a human life because of language. Without that he would be, I do not know what he would be, but he would not be a human being” (James 1980, 161). This ontological centrality of language could only sit uneasily with Marx’s positing of the ontological primacy of labor.*

Language, for James, is the way in which one orients oneself in the world; it is the way by which a world is formed. Language is not instrumental but fundamentally poetic. James cites Heidegger:
Language is not a mere tool, one of the many which man possesses; on the contrary, it is only language that affords the very possibility of standing in the openness of the existent. Only where there is language, is there world. […] Language is not a tool at his disposal, rather it is that event which disposes of the supreme possibility of human existence. (cited in James 1980, 169)
James cites a reading of Holderlin that Heidegger gives, in which Heidegger stresses the sociality of language in its formation of the referential totality of a world: “We – mankind – are a conversation. The being of man is founded in language” (cited in James 1980, 169). Man’s constitution through language establishes him as always already with someone else.

But what is it to be with someone? Heidegger undertakes this analysis in Being and Time. Dasein’s Being-in-the-world is always already to be with others: “The world of Dasein is a with-world. Being-in[-the-world] is Being-with Others” (Heidegger 155). Others are not encountered as tools, equipment, or things; Others are encountered in a specific mode, which Heidegger writes of as a sharing of or similitude of condition: “[Others] are like the very Dasein which frees them, in that they are there too [in the world], and there with it (Heidegger 154). Being-there-with is a fact of being in the world. In a world, one is always beside, among, alongside, or with the Dasein of Others. What is curious in the passage just cited, however, is that Dasein being-with the Dasein of an Other can free the Dasein of the Other. Heidegger’s analysis continues by attending to the modes of being-with the Dasein of Others that free (or do not free) the Dasein of Others.

In everyday being, Heidegger argues, one appears with Others almost “unconsciously.” One appears alongside “the They” [das Man]. This being-alongside does not free the Dasein of the Other; one appears alongside the Other indifferently, uncaringly. However, Dasein can also relate to the Dasein of Others positively. Heidegger identifies two positive modes of being-with, which he places under the term “solicitude”. In the first case, solicitude operates negatively; it can “take away ‘care’ from the Other and put itself in his position in concern: it can leap in for him” (Heidegger 158). In Heidegger’s terms, “concern” is the existential disposition of Dasein to things in the world; “care” is the existential disposition of Dasein to the Dasein of Others. Here, Heidegger indicates that “caring” for the other might be to substitute oneself for the other. “Leaping in” is to take the concerns of the other as one’s own, to attend to the matter concernfully, and to return the matter to the Other as “something finished and at his disposal” (Heidegger 158). This leads to a situation of dependency: “In such solicitude the Other can become one who is dominated and dependent” (Heidegger 158).

The other mode of solicitude, claims Heidegger, is to free the Other: “[it] does not so much leap in for the Other as leap ahead [vorausspringen] of him […], not in order to take away his ‘care’ but rather to give it back to him authentically” (Heidegger 158-9).* This mode of solicitude is freeing because it “pertains essentially […] to the existence of the Other, not to a ‘what’ with which he is concerned.” “Leaping ahead” thus “helps the Other to become transparent to himself in his care and to become free for it” (Heidegger 159). The point here is that Dasein in leaping ahead does not claim the concern of the Other as Dasein’s concern; rather, this care for the Other respects the Other as a Dasein who is oriented to the world concernfully and singularly.

In the first mode, Heidegger essentially detailed the master/slave dialectic of Hegel. Here – and this is perhaps a perverse reading – the bondsman “leaps in” for the lord to work on the lord’s concern, to return the matter to the lord as attended to. The bondsman, as the narrative goes, “becomes” lordly in his unmediated relationship to the world; the cared-for Other (here, the lord) becomes, in Heidegger’s words, “dominated and dependent.” In the second mode, Heidegger expands Hegel’s sense of the social to include a beside-ness that does not seek to control the concern of the Other. Recognizing and caring for the Dasein of the Other, Dasein “leaps ahead” of the Other. This should not be read – as one might be tempted– temporally, as if Dasein, in leaping, is one step ahead of the cared-for Other. This is not a teleology, in which the Other will assume the position that Dasein assumed when it leapt ahead. Nor is this leaping ahead anti-social, as one scholar maintains.* Nor is the concept of “leaping” particularly agential: if Heidegger is thinking of the master/slave dialectic, we see that “leaping in” might occur under conditions of domination. Similarly, “leaping ahead” is not necessarily a heroic activity, “requir[ing] great exertion”; after all, it occurs in the everyday (Dostal 407). Instead, this “leaping ahead” should be read as a clearing of space, an opening, a creative “leap[ing] forth and liberat[ing]” of “potentiality-for-Being” (Heidegger 159).* “Leaping ahead” lets the Other be even as it maintains a relationship with this Other; this relationship occurs within a shared world, as a Being-with-in-the-world.

“Leaping ahead” in the world places Dasein beside the Dasein of the Other in such a way that one does not incorporate or substitute itself for the Other; instead, Dasein recognizes the Other as Being-there in the world. “Often exclusively,” Heidegger writes, “Being with one another is based […] upon what is a matter of common concern in such Being” (Heidegger 159). This commonality is not similitude: “A Being-with-one-another which arises [entspringt] from one’s doing the same thing as someone else” produces distance and reserve (Heidegger 159). Leaping ahead, the being-with of Daseins, does not establish these Daseins as similar or identical. It establishes a commons: “when they devote themselves to the same affair in common, their doing so is determined by the manner in which their Dasein, each in its own way, has been taken hold of” (italics added; Heidegger 159). Being-in-common or being-concerned-with is not in conflict with the own-ness of the way of each Dasein. Commonality is not identity; it is the being-with and beside of different identities for a common concern. The “leaping ahead” that establishes being-with as the commonality of mutually recognizing Daseins is the setting in apposition of Dasein through a common.

“Leaping ahead” establishes the common through which Dasein is with the Dasein of Others. Leaping ahead is not, as such, an agential act; being in an “affair in common” is not a purposive work. Rather, the affair in common “takes hold of” one. One is simply there, thrown into the world, apposed to and alongside Others. Dasein is set in apposition to Others through the common as much as Dasein sets the Dasein of Others in apposition. Being-with-in-common is more a fact than the product of a work. And it is this being-in-common, or “common being,” or “community,” or “Gemeinwesen” that, for Marx, was to be dissolved by capitalism.

We are thus back to my initial question: has being-with as being-in-common really been eradicated by the effects of capitalism (which codes all subjects as beings-for)? Turning back to the sharecroppers, we will see James explore not only the presence but the political efficacy of a reactivated notion of being-with/in-common. Three questions remain for us to put to James: what – if one can ask after the what-ness of that which is between beings – is the common, and how is it politically actionable? And, finally, what is the position of the intellectual in all of this?

Standing with
Returning to the first paragraph of James’ “With the Sharecroppers” (and I hope now, at this point, we are sensitive to the loaded nature of this seemingly innocuous “with”), one sees that the worker is not simply opposed to the capitalist and that workers are not simply apposed to one another. The relationship is more dynamic: they are apposed-in-opposition: “But, despite the most vicious exploitation, despite terror – yes, actual, real terror – and despite starkest oppression, these are men […] who stand ready to fight with every worker against class tyranny” (22). “Standing” – as both with (each other) and against (oppression) – mediates relations of apposition and opposition to form the political subject that we recognize as the “sharecropper.” “Standing” negates both the passivity of submission to heteronomy and the activity of heroic autonomy. Neither claiming a law or motivation for himself, nor allowing exploitative capital to subject his body to external logics of power, the sharecropper standing against oppression stands-there outside the economy of revolution/submission.

It is this standing-there that I would like to track, as a politicization of the being-there of Heidegger. Heidegger gives short attention to the existential meaning of “standing.” Either standing registers in the domain of autonomy (as in to be self-standing), or it marks a mode of being that is indifferent and unconcerned with the world (cf. Heidegger 153, 156). Yet, Heidegger acknowledges “standing around” as “an existential mode of Being [… which entails] tarrying alongside everything and nothing” (Heidegger 156). James’ examination of the sharecroppers gives a fuller meaning to “standing-there.” While the standing-with/against of the initial paragraph that I have not stopped reading might be seen as “just rhetorical,” James elaborates standing-there and staying-there as having political effects.

In 1938, the landowners determined that if they had no tenants they would receive a larger share of the federal AAA subsidy on cotton. Sharecroppers’ contracts expired in January; in 1939, they were told to leave by January 10. “Twenty thousand workers were told to leave the shacks in which they lived. They had nowhere to go” (23). This abandoned multitude, about 5,000 people, Negroes for the most part, with a few whites, camped on the St. Louis highway. They took their scanty possessions with them and announced their intention of staying there” (emphasis added; 23). The abandoned sharecroppers quite literally camped on the highway.

A host of apparatuses were unleashed to do something with this undisciplined, squatting mass of vogelfrei (ex-)laborers. “Police, armed to the teeth, came to intimidate these Negroes and make them leave the highway. The Negroes, who had their guns with them, refused” (emphasis added; 24). Force failing, another disciplinary apparatus was called: “The Health Department and the Humane Society came out and investigated. The sit-down strike was called a menace to public health” (24). Still, “the result was nil. There they were and they were going to stay” (emphasis added; 24).

Standing-there and staying-there emerged as the last ontological resources of a multitude whose only protest to capitalism was the there-ness of their being. However, as James claims, this staying-there was not spontaneous (“though it would have been nonetheless significant”); union organization had preceded this activity (24). Yet, James details how this activity occurred without and beyond the desires of the STFU and the CIO: “Butler, the leader of the STFU replied to Whitfield [a local preacher and organizer]: ‘You did it without consulting us. Go back’” (24). Indeed, the strikers are eventually folded into UCAPAWA (a CIO organization), and Whitfield was incorporated into the labor aristocracy.

And yet, despite this abandonment by the union, and outside of the organization of class politics, the sharecroppers continued to “revolt” through the simplicity of their staying-there-together: “they found a piece of land, infertile and rocky, and at the top of a hill. It was situated in the county of New Madrid, Miss. Three hundred and five families made the trek to it, and they began life over on July 3, 1939” (25). Their initial living conditions were appalling: “About a thousand people lived on bread and gravy for two months, bread made of flour, water, and salt” (25). They were met with no organizational help from unions. Nor did local aid societies lend a hand: “The local relief committee gave them as little as possible, hoping to throw them out” (25). Finally, even the law entered: “The sheriff threatened them. ‘You must not stay here. Tonight I will protect you, but after that I can’t.’ However, they stayed at the camp, Poplar Bluff, and they built a village which they will inhabit” (emphasis added; 25).

Doubly abandoned, the sharecroppers stand-there and stay-there with one another. In each case, the spectacle of the masses presents their simple being-there-together as unacceptable to the order of capitalism. Their “lives” (and not necessarily their position in work) disrupt capitalist, state, and civil social discipline. A common ontological resistance is being deployed here, a simple massing of being-with that is scandalous to the purpose-obsessed consciousnesses of capitalism and organized labor. Quite simply, their staying-there with one another is ontologically resistant to capitalism, and this resistance becomes politically actionable: “Late in 1939 the Negroes began to threaten to hold another roadside demonstration.” Here, however, there is already some manipulation of this force by unions, who end the demonstration by bargaining with the governor (25-26).

James’ plan, in 1942, is to discover a means of setting this ontological resource of the sharecroppers (white and Negro) to work beside the oppositional politics of the party. How can the standing-there of sharecroppers operate with the party, in such a way that the party does not simply manipulate, instrumentalize, or purposively recode the sociality of the sharecroppers? We will turn now, finally, to a pamphlet that was written at the time, in which I hope to bring together numerous terms that I’ve used in this paper: Gemeinwesen, apposition, being-with, and language.

The Pamphlet

One of the more significant things to emerge from James’ time in Missouri is a small pamphlet entitled “Down with Starvation Wages in South-East Missouri”. This document addresses itself to all sharecroppers (though it takes the time to address white workers specifically), and puts forward basic demands for increased wages and time-and-a-half pay for overtime. All in all, it seems like a generic piece of revolutionary literature, with bland calls for solidarity and the injunction for black and white to unite and fight.

It is not the pamphlet itself but its composition that is noteworthy. Indeed, as James’ career progressed increasing stress was put upon the content of the composition of revolutionary literature. James’ composition incorporates the revolutionary nature of being-with that he documented in “With the Sharecroppers.” James describes the process as follows:
When the time came for us to have a strike, I called some of the leaders together and said: ‘We have to publish something, for everybody to read about it.’ They said yes. So I sat down with my notebook and said, ‘Well, what shall we say?’ So (I used to call myself Williams) they said, ‘Brother Williams, you know.’ I said, ‘I know nothing. This is your strike. You are all doing it, you have to go through it. I have helped you, but this pamphlet has to state what you have to say. Now, have you got something to say about what you think?’ And I went through each of them, five or six of them; each said his piece, and I joined them together. Everybody said what he thought was important. I didn’t write anything, none of them wrote it… They said what they thought and I put it together. (emphasis added; James 1977, 89)
The meaning of the composition seems simple. James essentially convenes a group writing session. Nicole King claims that the presence of the “I” in this passage, and James’ agency in calling together the strike leaders, smuggles a vanguardism into a scene of supposed democracy (cf. King 95). This argument is unconvincing. The vanguard party assembles and organizes a mass into a class through the production of being-for; James is doing something much different here, regardless of charges of egoism or self-promotion.

James posited a divide between himself and the sharecroppers. The latter are simultaneously the agents, the knowers, and those who must experience the consequences of their action. James, on the other hand, is not a participant in the strike as a striker; his mobility and class identity preclude him from experiencing as a sharecropper the struggle of the sharecroppers; and James disavows possessing any knowledge. The division effected by class, distribution of activity, and experience of effects was inscribed into the production of the document.

This division between the intellectual and the sharecropper, however, is generalized when one recognizes the differences subtending sharecropper identities. That is to say, the sharecropper is not constructed as homogenous; indeed, the “sharecropper” has five or six leaders meeting with James alone. Furthermore, the document inscribes a difference between “unskilled” workers and tractor drivers (the latter demand fifteen cents an hour more than the unskilled), black and white workers, and these impoverished workers versus the rest of the nation’s working population. The work does not restrain the plurality of identities, either through positing a monological authoritative representative, or through suppressing the intra-sharecropper class difference of unskilled/skilled. The differences constructing the composite figure of the sharecropper are not deadened or homogenized through the process of recording their words, but are rather set loose. How is this possible?

The figure of “joining” is crucial here. Indeed, the determination of how to read the activity of joining in this text determines the position of the intellectual. If the intellectual-as-joiner or the party-as-joiner in its act of joining substitutes an abstracted figure to stand in for the chain of identities being joined, then one has something like a vanguardist situation. Vanguardist “joining” can operate through reducing difference and “yoking” social identities to a single purpose. Indeed, something like this happens with the slogan, “Black and White, Unite and Fight,” where class desire is supposed to yoke the abstract worker, regardless of racial antagonisms, to a class goal.

James, on the other hand, means something different. To re-quote: “And I went through each of them, five or six of them; each said his piece, and I joined them together. […] They said what they thought and I put it together.” As stated, one could read this “putting together” as a vanguardist activity that “puts together” and “joins” through positing an abstract identity. In which case, joining would produce an authoritative political identity whose authority would be conferred by the joiner. The conjoined political identity would be given to the sharecroppers as an artifact for their use. Heidegger would describe this modality of being-with (which is here a being-with-for) as einspringen, “leaping in.” Vanguardism is the activity wherein one leaps in for a political subject to produce consciousness for a class, which is then given to the class as “something finished” (Heidegger 158). In such a case, authority is maintained by the one who leaps in – the party, the intellectual. In an obscure sentence, however, James denies authority to anyone: “I didn’t write anything, none of them wrote it.” The pamphlet is here constructed as authorless, even as we have seen five, six, or seven possible “authors” of the text. No author is “leaping in” to produce a homogenous political subject. James denies that a proper, homogenous subject is producing the text. Differences proliferate without substitution or catachrestic naming.

James, I want to suggest, is “leaping ahead.” Leaping ahead, as we described above, clears a space (the operation of Lichtung) in which beings can operate in common while retaining substantial differences: “when they devote themselves to the same affair in common, their doing so is determined by the manner in which their Dasein, each in its own way, has been taken hold of” (italics added; Heidegger 159). Being-in-common, or attending to the same affair in common, clears for itself a common space in which to operate. As we saw in James’ discussion of Wilson Harris, the means by which Dasein clears a space for its being (which is necessarily a being-with Others) is through language. Language is the space in which apposed identities can be placed beside and with one another; text provides the common space for being-in-common.
The point here is that text itself – here, the most generic of pamphlets – provides the possibility of apposing beings, of setting Mitsein loose through the world of politics. Text, as the clearing of space so that Mitsein can appear in the world, is the very possibility of apposed identities; the pamphlet “joins together” (without erasing) differences. Text is the Gemeinwesen of being; being-with or beside the Other is always already a textual situation. The intellectual here, far from homogenizing or organizing masses into classes, provides the very textual common through which differences can be apposed to one another. If catachrestic naming functions to endow the class with purposivity, it does so because it affixes a “proper” name to an entity that will always be improper to its label. What James is encouraging us to think, however, is the possibility of “common naming,” of using the commons of the name/text to appose identities: “Sharecroppers, Negro and white.” For this C.L.R. James, the being-with of the sharecroppers is not analogous to the apolitical and asocial mode of Marx’s class in-itself. “Sharecroppers” does not designate a structural given without identification (“much as potatoes in a sack form a sack of potatoes”); instead, sharecroppers is a name that produces a political commons through which differences can relate without reduction or abstraction.

A Brief Conclusion
This paper has been sprawling, almost unmanageable; this is a symptom of the difficulty of thinking beyond the binary of the worker doesn’t know / the worker knows. As I have argued, vanguardist and anti-vanguardist logics alike assume the “worker” as the proper name of a purposive, agential subject. Whereas vanguardist thought presumes that it must Prometheus-like bring consciousness of the purposive construction of the political subject to the class in-itself, anti-vanguardist thought (like James’ work from the mid-forties through the sixties) argues that the proletariat produces knowingly its own purpose. Each argument consolidates the political subject as a purposive being ontologically programmed by capitalism. Vanguardist claims argue that Gemeinwesen, or being-in-common, is a sociality ontologically and politically inferior to the “being-for” sociality that capitalism generalizes. Anti-vanguardist thought argues much the same, the difference being that the generation of the purposive sociality is located immanently within proletarian self-formation.

Reading C.L.R. James through Heidegger, I have argued that we can displace the crippling couplet of the-worker-doesn’t-know / the-worker-knows) by attending to the fictive, catachrestic nature of the proper name of the worker itself. The oppositional identity of the “sharecropper” emerged through the abstracting of elements from appositional identities. Seeking a politics of apposition, I identified the grammar of apposition with Heidegger’s analytic of Mitsein. I argue that the rhetoric of apposition as an embodiment of Mitsein provides a space wherein different identities and socialities can enter into non-purposive, but still political, contact. One such space is that of everyday life: even without the apparatus of a party or union, the sharecroppers mobilized their community in a resistant activity that I would call being-there-with. Another such space is that of text: text provides a commons through which apposed identities can relate to a common concern. The intellectual or the party finds a new position: he or she does not bring a purposivity from without, but provides the text through which differences can be apposed to one another in a common concern. In text, I argue, James finds the possibility of politics by a common name.


Bibliography
Buhle, Paul. C.L.R. James: The Artist as Revolutionary. London: Verso, 1988

Callinicos, Alex. Trotskyism. Buckingham: Open University Press, 1990

Dostal, Robert. “Friendship and Politics: Heidegger's Failing.” Political Theory Vol. 20, No. 3. pp. 399-423.

Giardina, Michael and Cameron McCarthy. “The Popular Racial Order of Urban America: Sport, Identity, and the Politics of Culture,” Cultural Studies <-> Critical Methodologies, Vol. 5, No. 2, 2005, pp. 145 - 173

Hardt, Michael and Antonio Negri, Empire. Cambridge: Harvard UP, 2000

Heidegger, Martin. Being and Time. Trans. John Macquarrie & Edward Robinson. New York: Harper and Row, 1962

James, C.L.R. The Future in the Present. London: Allison & Busby, 1977.

James, C.L.R. State Capitalism and World Revolution. Written in collaboration with Raya Dunayevskaya and Grace Lee. Chicago: Charles H. Kerr, 1986

James, C.L.R. C.L.R. James on the ‘Negro Question’. Ed. Scott McLemee. Jackson: University Press of Mississippi, 1996.

James, C.L.R. Marxism for Our Times: C.L.R. James on Revolutionary Organization. Ed. Martin Glaberman. Jackson, MI: University Press of Mississippi, 1999

James, C.L.R. Mariners, Renegades, and Castaways. Ed. Donald Pease. Hanover, NH: University Press of New England, 2001.

James, C.L.R. and Grace Lee James. Facing Reality: The New Society: Where to look for it & How to bring it closer. Chicago: Charles H. Kerr, 2006

King, Nicole. C.L.R. James and Creolization: Circles of Influence. Jackson, MI: Univ. Press of Mississippi, 2001.

Laclau, Ernesto and Chantal Mouffe. Hegemony and Socialist Strategy. Towards a Radical Democratic Politics. London: Version, 1985

Lenin, V. I. What is to be Done? Trans. Joe Fineberg and George Hana. London: Penguin, 1988

Marazzi, Christian. Capital and Language: From the New Economy to the War Economy. Trans. Gregory Conti. New York: Semiotext(e), 2008.

Marx, Karl. Surveys From Exile: Political Writings Volume II. Ed. David Fernbach. New York: Vintage, 1974.

Marx, Karl. Early Writings. Trans. Rodney Livingstone. New York: Penguin, 1992.

Marx, Karl. Grundrisse: Foundations of the Critique of Political Economy. Trans. Martin Nicolaus. New York: Penguin, 1993

Nancy, Jean-Luc. The Creation of the World; or, Globalization. Trans. David Pettigrew. Albany: SUNY Press, 2007.

Negri, Antonio. The Porcelain Workshop: For a New Grammar of Politics. New York: Semiotext(e), 2008.

Nielsen, Aldon Lynn. C.L.R. James: A Critical Introduction. Jackson: University Press of Mississippi, 1997

Pease, Donald. “C.L.R. James’s Mariners, Renegades, and Castaways and the World We Live In,” in Mariners, Renegades, and Castaways by C.L.R. James. Ed. Donald Pease. Hanover, NH: University Press of New England, 2001.

Trotsky, Leon. Leon Trotsky on Black Nationalism & Self-Determination. London: Pathfinder, 1978

Virno, Paolo. A Grammar of the Multitude. New York: Semiotext(e), 2004

Worcester, Kent. C.L.R. James: A Political Biography. Albany: SUNY Press, 1996.

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Disconnected notes (I don't understand blogger at all):

*See Lenin’s “Draft Theses on National and Colonial Questions” for a justification of these “translations.” http://www.marxists.org/archive/lenin/works/1920/jun/05.htm

*The opposition between these competing ontologies has been resolved in recent years through an incorporation of linguistic being into productive technologies. James himself, in his later texts, performs this incorporation. One would also look to Virno (2004), Hardt and Negri (2000), Negri (2008), and Christian Marazzi (2008), to list only those coming from the autonomist school of Italian Marxism. My aim here is to establish a path that resists both opposition (Heidegger versus Marx) and incorporation (which historicizes Heidegger’s ontology). The way out, I hope, is apposition, a (as I will show below) “joining” of language and labor, life and work.

*It is important that “leaps ahead” could also be translated as “leaps forward.” Heidegger goes on to describe this activity as “that which leaps forth and liberates” (Heidegger 159).

*“‘Leaping’ (Springen) mitigates against togetherness and mutual reciprocity. The verb suggests that one leaps ahead, or in place of, or even behind. Leaping is a decisive action that requires great exertion; "being together" is contrary to it.” (Dostal 407)

*This is akin to Heidegger’s analytic of Lichtung, in which being discloses itself in its there-ness. Leaping-forth clears space for the Dasein of Others. Heidegger writes of Lichtung: “To say that [man] is ‘illuminated’ [‘erleuchtet’] means that as Being-in-the-world it is cleared [gelichtet] in itself, not through any other entity, but in such a way that it is itself the clearing [Lichtung]. Only for an entity which is existentially cleared in this way does that which is present-at-hand become accessible in the light or hidden in the dark. […] Dasein is its disclosedness” (Heidegger 171). Leaping-forth is the operation of Lichtung applied to the Dasein of Others.

Sunday, December 21, 2008

James and Purposivity

Before doing anything with James and transnational readings of Facing Reality, I'd like to take a quick look at James on the concept of purposivity.

Now, it is clear to me that marxism (as a body of texts affiliated with the corpus of Marx, not as an official movement or organized set of interpretations) has difficulty with non-purpose driven modes of sociality. One thing I am interested in is a Heideggarian Marxism that would open up the ontological constitution of the subject to non-intending modes of being-in-the-world. Can labor coexist, say, with language as ontological determinants of a marxist subject? Perhaps not. The point, however, is that Marx, for me, took liberalism and liberal philosophy at its word in terms of its constitution of its subject. Corporate subjects (like classes) are either inert and mute, like potatoes in a sack, and therefore existent only in-themselves; or, they have been activated as purposive subjects and become for-themselves. Similarly, non-corporate sociality - like simple exchange - is also, for Marx, always already premised on relations of desire and purposeful interaction. One is never just with someone. Because of this subject constitution, vanguardism seems to me to be the inherent and ever-present risk in marxism itself.

But what if subjects were not merely constituted through purposivity; or, if purposivity were held to be a fiction? James of the early 40’s (and even through Notes on Dialectics, though there things begin to tilt into an organicist language) was self-conscious regarding the artificiality and exteriority of “purpose” to the entity that was being organized as purposive. That is, James did not imagine that a political purposivity naturally or essentially emerged from “the worker” once the worker had received his name (if we read naming as a moment of purpose/identity endowing). In a 1943 article on Sidney Hook, James takes issue with Hook’s characterization of Marxist historical philosophy. Hook, James writes, sees Marxism as endorsing a nearly theological teleology that is scientifically untenable; for Hook’s Marx, the proletarian’s purpose is inscribed in the fabric of time. James responds:
[An entity like a river] acts that way because that is its nature, and my business as a scientist is to examine that, and not look for the hand of God or any outside agency. On this use of “purpose”, both Hegel and Engels, as we see, had common ground. But both Marx and Hegel understood quite clearly that you could never finally prove this purpose or any necessity purely by empirical observation. […] As Engel’s says: “The empiricism of observation alone can never adequately prove necessity…. But the proof of necessity lies in human activity, in experiment, in work.” Could anything be simpler? (James 1943, 55)
“Purpose” is not verifiable as a fact within the world. The proof of the philosophical attribution of purposivity rests in changing the world itself. (Here James interprets the eleventh thesis.) The attribution of “purpose” establishes the agency of the actor (not “the hand of God or any outside agency”) and the necessity of the actor’s work within the world to make true the attribution of purpose. Establishing purpose is thus a program. It is, properly speaking, a fiction.

The question that I have, that I will address later, is this: does this fiction overcode the real of alternative socialities, and can these different modes of being-in-the-world gain recognition by a marxist politics? If the attribution of purposivity makes a class that was in-itself legible as for-itself, what do we make of the "pre-"purposive socialities catechrestically named as class "in-itself"? I ask this only because, as I think I showed below, James' post-trotskyist work extends the function of purpose-giving to the proletiat itself; the proletariat, in production, produces knowingly its own purpose (cf. Facing Reality, 78, 88, 109) This position is coterminous with James' increasing organicism. But can we think of politically actionable "inorganic" socialities violated by the fiction of purpose? James on race or anti-colonialism might be a way out here, but I'm not sure.

Sunday, December 14, 2008

James and Selbstbetätigung

To get a read of Jamesian Bildung, I'd like to pick out the Marxian resonances of a term dear to James' heart - that of "self-activity." Turning to a passage in Marx's EPM, we read:

Only through developed industry, i.e. through the mediation of private property, does the ontological essence of human passion come into being, both in its totality and in its humanity; the science of man is therefore itself a product of the practical self-activation of man [ein Produkt der praktischen Selbstbetätigung des Menschen]. (Early Marx, 377)

I have modified the translation somewhat. Selbstbetätigung was translated as “self-formation,” which is misleading, and led Livingstone to add an entirely superfluous phrase. He did not translate “praktischen Selbstbetätigung” as “practical self-activation” but rather split its meanings through “self-formation” and “practical activity." The translation is useful, insofar as it invokes both ordinary practice and something like Bildung (self-formation).

But what is Selbstbetätigung? I would argue that, for Marx, self-activation partakes in an odd intentionality that translates into a circular causality. The "science of man" that he is after appears as an effect of the emergence of man as the product of his own activity; however, man only emerges as man through working on himself. What does it mean to activate (or, in less loaded terms, act on) oneself when the status of that self is only confirmed and made possible through the act/ivation?

What we assume as teleological in Marx is frequently a theoretical fiction that Marx writes in order to make the past legible. Posited but erased in the term Selbstbetätigung is a project stated in the future anterior tense whose present we now inhabit. The “self” of the “self-activation” is on loan from the present as if it had always been a reality; or, rather, as if it had always been projected as becoming a reality. The human in history appears as both the cause and the effect of his own activity. Where, from one point of view, human labor in the past could have been mere activity possessing no reflexive value, from the Marxian perspective of the present previous labor appears as a purposive project of self-elaboration – a self-activation. This fiction of the purposive, self-activating subject, which operates through a pseudo-telos, becomes dominant within Marx’s text; it comes, as we see above, to constitute the principle of scientificity for Marxism.

This fiction of self-activation nullifies the possibility of heteronomy in the ontological constitution of the human subject. For this Marx, the human makes its own ontology; it is autological and autonomic. It is a self-producing organism, whose life is its purpose and product. Of course, this fiction is also utopic: the self-production of man always occurs within a regime of exploitation. The fiction of self-activation that Marx writes, however, allows us to read exploitation as inorganic and exterior to the self-constitution of the worker-human. The political and ethical stance of Marxism follows almost necessarily from this ontology: if humanity produces its own being, but external or inorganic control over production and distribution leads to an unequal proportioning of these products in which the producers lack that which they made, the very producers of being experience ontic lack. The task, for a certain form of Marxism, is then not to focus on redistribution of goods (which, read dialectically, is nothing more than a redistribution of lack), but is rather to expel heteronomy from the self-elaboration of the proletarian subjects. The Marxian program thus becomes not so much an economic as a great philosophical drama, in which the worker attempts to reestablish himself as the producer/product of Selbstbetätigung, and in which the value-form, the State, or simply capital attempts to taint this self-activation with an external trace of power. The worker attempts to rest control (or the ability to endow activity with purpose) from the capitalist; the worker wishes to work not for the enrichment of another, but for the humanity that he actively produces.


Capitalist purposivity, then, versus proletarian purposivity: heteronomy versus autonomy. We are on the track of Bildung.

James developed a shorthand for the theoretical expression of the purposivity of capitalism, naming it “rationalism.” Texts like State Capitalism and World Revolution (1958 [1986]) and Facing Reality (1951 [2006]) provide an elaboration of the history of this rationalism, its development in and through capitalism, and a strategy for overcoming the force of capitalist rationalism. Importantly, a proletarian philosophy is never named, save rather vaguely as a “philosophy of life” (James 2006). The vitalism implicit in this to-be-elaborated philosophy is important to the discussion that follows.

James wrote in State Capitalism that “the war over productivity is fought in terms of philosophy, a way of life” (James 1986, 114). Productivity is thus linked in a real way to philosophy, which is glossed as a mode or disposition of living. James’ philosophy of history, as it emerges in this period of texts (roughly 1947 to 1961), is an attempt to identify the motive force of history. Initially, the bourgeoisie provided an economic rationality to production that furthered historical progress:

In the springtime of capitalism this rationalistic division of labor was the basis of a common attempt of individual men associated in a natural environment to achieve control over nature. (James 1986, 115)

Rationalism (frequently embodied for James through Descartes) enabled a tremendous explosion of creative energies. Capitalist rationality “all over the world […] united the population as never before” (James 1999, 62). Enlightenment and rationalism were liberating inasmuch as they freed the intellect from traditional determinations and freed the laboring body for the superadequation of capitalist commodity production. (James had a somewhat rosy view of primitive accumulation and, as we see in this narrative, colonization. Postcolonial approaches to James cannot afford to overlook these problematic passages.)

While rationalism first brought together and “associated” “individual men” in a “common attempt” at organizing and metabolizing nature, it eventually tended toward something more sinister. In the scene that James elaborates as the “springtime of capitalism,” we see the positive aspect of capitalist rationality: it establishes a common (even when it enclosed the commons), it produces association (even as these associations became increasingly less voluntary), and it controls nature (even as this led to total de-naturing). But the point of this mythical story of “springtime” is that while rationality/capitalism initially produced healthy results, this same technique or technic quickly became poisonous. Rationalism, as James tells us, is pharmakontic; it is both poison and antidote. While rationalism brings men together in labor, it simultaneously submits them to external controls, determinations, demands, and forces. An antagonism develops between the associated workers and the rationality that appears increasingly exterior and inorganic to the productive process of labor:

This antagonistic relation between an administrative elite calculating and administering the needs of others, and people in a social community determining their own needs, this new world, our world, is a world which Descartes never knew or guessed at. As an actual liberating philosophy of life, rationalism is dead. (James 2006, 72)

By this point, a switch has occurred. Where rationality initially extended a collective purposivity to masses of men in associated labor, it eventually becomes vestigial to the process of labor itself. Rationality only retains its position through state force: “Nothing but the most unlicensed, unrestrained, carefully cultivated brutality can keep [the great masses] down” (James 2006, 79). For James, the proletariat of 1950 knows exactly what it wants. The proletariat has incorporated rationality for itself.

What has happened here? Rationality – which is alternately figured as Descartes, capitalism, and the State – functions to produce a new organization of life and labor. This new organization of labor develops into a type of systematicity that eventually attempts to erase the fact of its exterior causality. Rationalism, while now dead, was once, if not alive, then at least life-bestowing and purpose-endowing. Capital/reason is a techne that begins and enables the production of a certain mode of life. For James, this mode of life develops its own mode of being that becomes antagonistic to the very techne that originally gave it life. That which attempts to efface the radical and exterior gift of life through positing a vital force as an always already interiorized motor is called (in a philosopheme going from Aristotle to Blumenbach to Kant to Hegel to James) an organism. It is no accident, then, that James will refer to “the organism we have been following, the proletariat” in his Notes on Dialectics (1948). This organicism is not a disfiguration or mystification of Marx; this logic follows the fiction of Selbstbetätigung that I discussed above.

The organism of the proletariat does not, by James’ admission, emerge as the result of a Selbstbetätigung. It does not turn itself on or give itself life. Frankenstein-like, the proletarian organism has been given life only to turn against the intentions of its creator. The turn against the creator, the incorporation of the giver of life such that life appears to be self-given (or self-activated), is what James explores through dialectics. In what he calls a “Hegelian critique of rationalism,” James establishes a number of rules for the movement of his organic multitude (James 1986, 116). He deploys vitalist and organicist metaphors, metaphors that construct the proletarian multitude as a living body, self-moving, extending itself imaginatively and materially through space. One assertion of the “Hegel” whom James pirates is that “[a]ll development takes place as a result of self-movement, not organization or direction by external forces” (James’ emphasis; James 1986, 117). Thus, a given body contains within itself its own principles of movement and causation and its own purposivity; it is auto-causal.

However, this theory of organic auto-endowment of purposivity does not account for why a body would move in the first place. If an organism gives itself purpose, there would still be an initial irruptive break at which this organism would make a gift to itself, in which the organism would activate itself. What makes the organism move itself? To answer that the organism would move itself of itself is tautological. James wants to inscribe a technic of movement that is at once exterior to but incorporated by the organism. He wants to inscribe what should be before the organism as the organism. James continues: “Self-movement springs from and is the overcoming of antagonisms within an organism, not the struggle against external forces” (James’ emphasis; James 1986, 117). An organism thus produces its own contradictions, its own antagonisms; an organism is a set of self-contained, self-produced antagonisms.

This is obviously a sleight of hand. This dialectical rule of self-movement effectively erases the initial gift of life and purpose that capital/rationalism extended to the “individual men” associated in labor. James attempts to incorporate the dubious gift of capitalist rationality. The exterior technical organization of men in associated labor becomes, over time, an organic self-technique for the purposive production of the organism itself. The proletarian organism of 1950 is thus able to incorporate (as if it were proper to it) an entire capitalist history of technical production. Proletarian rationality becomes, in fact, the true motor of history. The point here is that the proletariat produces itself; or, rather, from a certain historical perspective, can be seen to have produced itself, and can be seen to be producing itself purposively. Having lost their position as the bearers of rationality, the state and capitalism only remain through and as violence. The state contradicts the auto-purposivity of the organism by submitting it to an enforced Plan. Capitalist value only reproduces itself as command.

James’ revolutionary argument is that the state is no longer required to plan and to distribute; the real subsumption of society by the organism of the proletariat means that the proletariat can look after society for itself (for itself in a double sense). In fact, the social becomes as organic as the proletariat: “Modern society in particular is an enormously complex organism” (James 2006, 47). In fact, James figures society as an organism at the precise moment that he is attempting to evade charges of economism and workerism:

Social relations in production do not constitute society and no one has ever claimed that they did. Modern society in particular is an enormously complex organism, comprising relations of production, commercial relations, scientific investigation, the highly scientific organizations of certain aspects of industry itself (such as for instance the production and use of atomic energy). The means of communication of information and ideas play an enormous role in the routine of today’s society. There is the organization of political life, the creation of literature and art at various levels. But despite all the complexity, there are clear, unmistakable, irrefutable patterns and laws which allow us to understand the general movement. (James 2006, 47)

How do we read this “organism of society in light of James’ previous philosophy of organisms? Here, the organicism of the proletariat producing itself in the factory emerges as an organizing (if not organicizing) figure for the organism of society:

If we have based our concept of the future of society upon the working class in the social relations of production, it is because it is the single stable, unifying, and integrating element in […] society. (James 2006, 47)


This is Bildung from below. The worker does not merely provide the material base for the civil social world of bourgeois exchange and sociality; in James' view, the worker is actively constructing a new type of Bildung that is centered on the production of the social itself. This social is responsive to the auto-causality of labor; the social is not a set of reified positions or a network of exchange relations, but the constantly deterritorialized expression of the productive capacities of workers themselves.

If only, right?


***

On preview: moving from the factory to the plantation, I will track the differential meanings that arise when Facing Reality was read in America, and when it was read (after James sent copies to piss off Eric Williams) in Trinidad.