Leadership in State Genesis: Creative Vicediction, Guardianship, and the Crystallization of Sovereign Authority

DISSERTATION

Presented in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree Doctor of Philosophy in the Graduate School of The Ohio State University

Tahseen Kazi

Graduate Program in Comparative Studies

The Ohio State University

2014

Dissertation Committee:

Eugene Holland, Advisor

Sonja Amadae

Philip Armstrong

Mathew Coleman

Luis Lobo-Guerrero

Copyrighted by

Tahseen Kazi

2014

Abstract

The complicity of leadership in the genesis of sovereign authority is neglected in contemporary political thought to the detriment of our understanding of both of these concepts. Dissatisfied with contemporary reliance on notions such as sovereign decision which ultimately imply primal repression as the sole source of all authority, my research takes the genesis of sovereignty as a problem to be solved rather than as an unalterable, natural occurrence to be presumed. Drawing on such diverse resources as Foucault’s concept of parrhesia,

Weber’s concept of charisma, anthropological and mythological accounts of authority, Simondon’s theory of the genesis of the individual as crystallization, and primarily on Deleuzian philosophy, I offer an account of the genesis of the sovereign state as the result of the conjugation of two modes of leadership: leadership by guardianship and leadership by creative vicediction.

Whereas leadership by guardianship in the Platonic tradition makes claim to judgment on the authority of customary founding myths, thereby severely limiting leadership’s transformative potential, leadership by creative vicediction, a

concept I develop, trespasses on such myths to critically engage with their representation of the present circumstance, and presubjectively and affectively guides others toward another way of being. I argue that the sovereign state is the outcome of the invention of a myth that conjugates these two leadership modes and thereby crystallizes a socially hierarchized community, such as the invention of the “divine right of kings” that conjugated Papal guardianship of the Christian

Scholastic doctrine with unsettling, pagan, charismatic kingship.

I present a genealogy of leadership in the seventeenth and eighteenth century to make the argument that this period witnessed the genesis of a new form of sovereignty, one that is managed by not one but ongoing inventions of new myths that conjugate guardianship of the body politic with any emergence of creative vicediction. I show that it took the biopolitical technique of population manipulation by political arithmetic, a precursor to political economics, to adequately invent new myths and realize the genesis of the modern liberal state.

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Dedication

Naseem, Kabir,

Shaheen, Simeen,

James, and Julian

Acknowledgments

I would like to thank those who have helped and guided me in my wanders through politics, philosophy, sociology, leadership discourses, and cognitive science, out of all of which this dissertation has come about. With my advisor

Gene Holland’s guidance, I have rediscovered the joy of research and writing. On hearing me say that I wanted to write a dissertation on leadership inspired by

Deleuze, Gene did not flinch. I was directed to Gene’s Nomad Citizenship in which

I found to my delight that leadership plays a key role. I immediately knew I was in a great place for my first book-length writing project.

I would like to give many thanks to Molly Cochran for helping me make the transition from the world of nuclear (non)proliferation policymaking to political philosophy. My travels since those early days have been long, winding, at times deeply unsettling, and yet very fulfilling. Philip Armstrong’s remarkable ability to say so much in few words is a continuing source of wonder to me, and I am keenly aware that I have much still to learn from his insights. Sonja Amadae and Mathew

Coleman have both inspired me by their teaching and by showing me new discourses to explore. My external faculty committee member Luis Lobo-Guerrero

graciously accepted my invitation to join the committee, and I sincerely thank Luis for his very valuable comments on the full draft. I would also like to thank Alex

Wendt for suggesting I delve into Weber’s charisma in my research, and Rick

Herrmann for encouraging my early forays into writing on political leadership.

Many thanks go to Vicki Birchfield for her encouragement and for giving me an intellectual community while I completed my dissertation at home in Atlanta. Last but by no means least, I am happy to acknowledge my fellow students at Ohio

State alongside whom I carried out my studies. In particular, my thanks go to

Emilie Bécault, Myriam Chandler, and Erin Graham with whom I shared my years in Columbus.

To James I can only say that I never thought our ride would go like this!

Julian entered our lives early in the writing of this dissertation with a frank, refreshing disinterest in my work. With his easy vigor and unabashed celebration of life, Julian takes us outdoors and brings laughter in. This dissertation is dedicated to James and Julian as much as it is to my parents Naseem and Kabir, and to my sisters Shaheen and Simeen, for their cultivation of an intuitive appreciation for nomadic life.

Vita

1987 ...... The New English School, Kuwait

2001 ...... B.S. Physics, Georgia Institute of

Technology

2004 ...... M.S. International Affairs, Georgia

Institute of Technology

2012-2014 ...... Ph.D. Candidate, Department of

Comparative Studies, The Ohio State

University

Fields of Study

Major Field: Comparative Studies

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Table of Contents

Dedication ...... iv Acknowledgments ...... v Vita ...... vii List of Figures ...... xi Chapter 1: Leadership and Sovereignty: A Quasi-Weberian Critique ...... 1 The Argument of the Dissertation ...... 1 The Structure of the Dissertation ...... 18 Chapter 2: Biopolitical Sovereignty by Management of the Body Politic ...... 31 Pastoralism in Post-Revolutionary Discourse on Machiavelli’s The Prince ...... 42 Pastoral Care of the Passions after the Council of Trent ...... 42 Pastoral Care of the Passions in the Republican Tradition of the English Interregnum ...... 46 Pastoralism and Biopolitics in Political Arithmetic ...... 52 William Petty and the Politics of Transmutation ...... 53 The Pastoral Ministry of Excise Taxation by Political Arithmetic and Its Judgment ...... 58 Biopolitics and the Individuation of Prime Ministerial Authority: Walpole’s Management of the South Sea Crisis ...... 65 Management, Desire, and the Spiritualized Urstaat ...... 65 The South Sea Crisis and Walpole’s Creation of the State Executive ...... 70 Biopolitics and Prime Ministerial Authority: Pitt’s Management of the East India Crisis ...... 85 The Perverse Intensity of Company Rule in India ...... 85 Pitt’s Response: The India Act and the Commutation Act ...... 91

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The Legacy of Pitt’s Management Virtuosity: A Britain Ready for Its Imperial Century...... 97 Chapter 3: Foucault and Weber on Leadership in the Genesis of Authority ...... 100 Weber’s Charisma and Foucault’s Parrhesia: A Comparison ...... 103 Charisma in Weber’s Economy and Society ...... 104 Parrhesia in Foucault’s Late Lectures ...... 108 Foucault and Weber on the Divine Right of Kings ...... 120 Comparing the Oeuvres of Foucault and Weber ...... 124 Different Lives: Leadership and the Human Condition in Foucault and Weber ...... 130 Foucault, Governmentalities, and the Parrhesiastic Modality ...... 132 Foucault and Weber: Two Distinct Projects Regarding Leadership ...... 136 Foucault, Parrhesia, and Sovereignty ...... 142 Chapter 4: The Platonic Guardian and His Deleuzian Double ...... 148 Platonic Leadership and Its Deleuzian Overturning ...... 151 Knowledge and Belief in Platonic Leadership, and the Deleuzian Critique ...... 151 Overturning Forms into Ideas, and Founding Myths into the Eternal Return...... 159 Categorization and Leadership as Representation in the Platonic Tradition: Aristotle ...... 162 Crowned Anarchy and Evaluation in Social Transformation ...... 166 Evaluation and Crowned Anarchy ...... 180 Packs as a Transformational Force: From Analogous to Anomalous Leadership ...... 190 Chapter 5: Creative Vicediction, Guardianship, and the Crystallization of the Sovereign State ...... 201 Mysticism and Myth in Social Anthropology ...... 206 Freud’s Fatherly Horde and Brotherly Clan ...... 212 Crowd Mobilization and the Coincidence of Creative Vicediction and Guardianship ...... 220

The Sovereign State as the Conjugation of Leadership by Creative Vicediction and Leadership as Guardianship ...... 228 Monarchic Sovereignty as Deleuzo-Guattarian Ideal-Type ...... 228 State Crystallization: A Deleuzo-Guattarian Analysis of State Genesis .... 232 The Leadership of Warding-Off State Crystallization ...... 241 Leadership and the Crystallization of Sovereignty ...... 248 Leadership and Monarchic Sovereignty in Europe ...... 252 Chapter 6: On the Genesis of the Biopolitical Sovereign State ...... 257 The Schmitt-Weber “Debate” about Modernity and Leadership...... 268 Connections between Leadership in the Genesis of Sovereignty and Contemporary Political Thought ...... 272 Biopolitical Sovereignty as History ...... 278 References ...... 286

List of Figures

Figure 1: The Random Walk of the Liberal State’s Individuation in Response to

Leadership Threats ...... 39

Chapter 1: Leadership and Sovereignty: A Quasi-Weberian Critique

The Argument of the Dissertation

This is a dissertation about leadership and sovereignty, two concepts that have spent time both in and out of favor in political discourse since the twentieth century. Sovereignty only underwent short-lived moments of disfavor, after the

First World War and after the Cold War. At the start of the twenty-first century, when it returned from obscuration under the dominance of a post-Cold War triumphal myth of the arrival of the “Last Man,” sovereignty did not just fade back into view. It shot back, bringing with it the supplement of exceptionalism and leaving us with a fear that the tricks sovereignty continues to play on our imagination undermine our capacity to make sense of the “new constellations” of authority visible today as global governance (Bartelson, 2006, p. 464).

However, leadership, as a transformational force of political genesis, has experienced a far less noble reception in twentieth and twenty-first century political thought. Political leadership had its twentieth century moment with

Weber’s conception of charismatic leadership as a transformative force. Since then, it has remained an active topic of inquiry in Comparative Politics studies of

1 state and institutional leaders,1 in the business management-dominated inter- discipline of Leadership Studies,2 in political democracy theorizations,3 in Political

Psychology studies,4 in Social Movement studies,5 in studies of international institutional identity change,6 in studies of foreign policy decision-making,7 and in

Weberian studies.8 However, as a subject for inquiry into the genesis of political subjectivity and authority – as Weber conceived charismatic leadership in his studies of legitimate domination – if sovereignty experienced a brief eclipse in the

1990s, then leadership has practically been in cryogenic stasis since the mid twentieth century.

My dissertation makes the untimely argument that a leadership force like charisma is complicit in the genesis of sovereignty. For Weber, charismatic leadership is a transformative force for inaugurating the new, a gift of grace shared among the initiated, and an intense psychic force of suggestion for direction

(1978a, pp. 241-245). Charisma is one of three ideal types of authority by which communities could be structured, the other two being rational and traditional domination. However, partly through mistranslations and misrepresentations of

Weber’s work (Cohen, Hazelrigg, & Pope, 1975; Pope, Cohen, & Hazelrigg, 1975;

Tribe, 2007b), this important concept has been almost entirely rendered an illegitimate, theoretically suspect subject in political discourse. Charisma has been denounced as unimportant for the study of modern society but not for those societies of the world perceived pre-modern (Friedrich, 1961), and leadership has

2 been conceived exclusively as a post-subjective leader-follower relation in comparative or single-case studies of the qualities of the leaders’ influence by virtue of personality traits or by actions that implicitly suggest personality traits

(Barber, 1972; Breslauer, 2002; Brown, 1997; Burns, 1978; Byman & Pollack, 2001;

George & George, 1964; Samuels, 2005; Skowronek, 1993). This form of leader- follower relation has alienated Weberian leadership studies from almost all political thought on sovereignty, with the three exceptions of Andreas Kalyvas’s

Democracy and the Politics of the Extraordinary (2009), Arash Abizadeh’s chapter- length “The Representation of Hobbesian Sovereignty: Leviathan as Mythology”

(Abizadeh, 2013), and Raia Prokhovnik’s chapter-length “Political Leadership and

Sovereignty” (2009). The structuralist and individualist logics that still dominate political thought either severely constrain the force of leadership to that of expertise (Haas, 1989), novel interpretation of symbols and meanings (Finnemore

& Sikkink, 1998; Keck & Sikkink, 1998; Risse-Kappen et al., 1999; Risse, 2000; Risse,

Ropp, & Sikkink, 2013; Wapner, 1996) or present the subject as already independent for being individuated precisely in such a way as to make them immune to charismatic influence (Young, 1991).

Such limitation of action to a play on situated norms and to the force of consequentiality has had its effect on contemporary thinking on sovereignty. In its contemporary conceptualizations, sovereignty is said to be the product of contract between rational-legal actors who opt for the most evolutionarily advanced mode

3 of government (Spruyt, 1996) or a hypocritically loose coupling of consequentialist actions to the historical norms of international sovereign recognition, sovereign independence, and domestic control for the sake of maintaining a certain peace and a balance of power (Krasner, 1999). On the latter account, rational decision- making elites can, at any time they feel the need, decouple actions from norms, and let loose the sheer violent force of rationality, leaving us to understand that the organized hypocrisy of sovereignty is something for which we should be grateful. Having disqualified charisma, political thought on sovereignty plays

Weber’s authority of traditionalism against legal-rationalism but ensures the latter gets the last word.

Through readings of Bodin, Hobbes, Locke, and Rousseau, Denis Baranger

(2010) notes sovereignty’s distinguishing appearance as an apparition that marks bodies, inscribing those affected with relational differences. This analytically useful notion of marks of sovereignty is famously found in Kantorowicz’s The King’s Two

Bodies (1997). It is the monarch’s body that Kantorowicz references in his study of sovereign doubling, but Baranger extends the notion to modern sovereignty, proposing that there is a phenomenal unity to sovereignty that is visible as an apparition in the differentially marked bodies that express it. While in the past the monarch’s “emanations” gave the state its unity, today state agencies, such as the executive office, and organs (including subjects as organs) are the regalia that fuse sovereign rights. Yet, what gives the modern state this unity is no longer self-

4 evident. Socially differentiated relations are marks of sovereignty, they are the appearances of sovereignty, but the source of sovereignty’s unity does not itself appear.

This question of sovereignty as the hidden unifying source of social differentiation pertains to a certain ambiguity in Jens Bartelson’s Genealogy of

Sovereignty (1995). In this book, Bartelson returns a capacity for historical difference to sovereignty that avoids linear progressivism. While this is a welcome move, Bartelson denies the crucial question posed by Baranger. Bartelson describes medieval sovereignty as a “mytho-sovereignty” legitimated by a divine monarch as its unifying source (p. 88), but modern sovereignty is presented as something that implicates knowledge itself. This move from describing a source of legitimacy (the monarch’s divine right) to that which is legitimated (knowledge) is justified by

Bartelson on the grounds that seeking the source of unity of modern sovereignty gives “essence” to a force that “makes different spheres of politics empirically representable and possible” in the first place. To do so, Bartelson adds, would necessitate recognizing a source that gives force to sovereignty, and that which gives force to that source, ad infinitum. I will demonstrate in this dissertation that

Bartelson’s fear that the source is always deferred is not always applicable, but want to stress here that in the absence of an adequate conceptualization of leadership that does not presuppose the leader as subject, even our more astute depictions of sovereignty are forced to find justifications for bypassing

5 sovereignty’s source, and to retain a silence on the question of sovereignty’s genesis. More important than this, by neglecting a problematization of sovereignty’s source, any possibility of problematizing sovereign genesis is erased.

To make it illegitimate to ask where sovereignty comes from is to make it illegitimate to ask about why it comes to be, and to disqualify imagining a world where it does not.

I think that Foucaultian (and more broadly, French philosophy-influenced) political thought on sovereignty is problematic for still accepting too easily the

(re)production of sovereignty. If sovereignty is continuously being produced by ongoing biopolitical and geopolitical practices, then why are these practices so reliably successful at reproducing the state?

To illustrate the problem with the neglect of the production of subjectivity in sovereignty studies, consider the now classic text by Cynthia Weber, Simulating

Sovereignty (1995). Weber’s theorization speaks to a preexisting distaste – likely informed by some late twentieth century French philosophy – for political thought that implies the slightest hint of vitalism. Of course, Weber’s book was written in

1995, well before Foucault’s lectures were made available in English. Therefore one should not perhaps hold Weber’s book accountable for neglecting Foucault’s

“techniques of the self.” Regardless, and with respect for Weber’s and others’ interrogations into the givens of academic discourses on politics, my concern is that Weber’s text continues to be uncritically viewed as an authoritative statement

6 on the production of sovereignty (Campbell, 1998 carries a similar authority).

Weber draws from both Foucault and Jean Baudrillard to make the case that the meaning of sovereignty is stabilized through theoretic discourse and diplomatic practice. Weber argues that legal, formal boundaries become politically contested in moments of diplomatic practices of intervention into other countries, bringing into doubt the existence of the referents of intervention, such as threatened political communities and an international civil society of judgment. In such situations, intervention cannot be justified before a supposed international community as an action made on the behalf of the sovereign authority of the political community, and the international community of judgment, the sovereign authority of the political community targeted for intervention, and the boundary between sovereign act and unlawful intervention cannot be drawn in a symbolic representation. In such cases, Weber argues, a (Baudrillardian) logic of simulation displaces a (“Foucaultian”) logic of representation as a productive power. In a logic of simulation, power is not productive, but seductive, of truth, and truth is made to appear but not as a referent or signified. In such moments truth is not produced but appears as a simulacrum, a “truth effect” (p. 125). Weber writes that such logic of simulation was at work in the Reagan-Bush Administrations’ intervention in

Grenada and Panama. Here, the regional communities of judgment, the target domestic communities, and the governments of the target states were not produced, but seduced into appearance. In an order of simulation, Weber adds,

“the distinction between what is real and what is artificial cannot be produced” because the real” and “unreal” collapse in an abundance of reality and the absence of a boundary between them (pp. 125-126). Thereby, we are to understand, the possibility to contest an order of simulation is annulled.

I do not contest that sovereignty is simulated and that when this happens the real and unreal collapse and become indistinguishable. Nor do I wish to contest that when sovereignty is simulated the sovereign effect is remarkably stable. What I want to argue is that, on Foucault’s account of veridiction, techniques of governmentality, and practices of the self, an order of simulation should still be contestable. Simulation should be contestable because parrhesiastic practices of the self are not about distinguishing the real from the unreal, they do not seek to reveal the absence of an underlying truth. Rather, in the Cynic sense studied by Foucault, parrhesiastic practices are about developing a “stylistics of existence” conducted by the declaration of other truths that do not seek to disprove by evidence but by guiding witnesses to another world, by taking life as the testimony of truth. In living life as a scandal, it is not truth or its simulation, but the currency of truth, the circulation of signifieds, that is falsified (2011a, p.

244). This is not to say that Weber has it wrong, that it must not be orders of simulation that are operant in intervention. It is to make the case that the fact that orders of simulation are not contested and confronted should be problematized.

How is it that parrhesiastic or some other techniques of the self do not create

8 audible communities of confrontation with a force strong enough to destabilize the stabilizing force of simulation? My point is that on a Foucaultian register, sovereignty, whether simulated or produced (accepting Weber’s distinction for a moment) is more problematic than is acknowledged in critical IR. Sovereignty is problematic not only in the sense of being associated with oppressive, repressive, and productive power but, more importantly for my purposes, in the sense of being allowed to be effectuated at all. That is, there is enough capacity for presubjective self-construction in Foucault’s account to make the accomplishment of sovereignty something of a puzzle.

My point is not, in liberal fashion, to say that citizens should be capable of not being fooled and so of seeing the truth of their oppression in the reproduction of sovereignty. It is, rather, that presently the application of French philosophy in political thought is geared away from seriously considering that sovereignty should be at least a little difficult to accomplish. If Foucault’s position that subjectivity can be constructed by techniques of the self by such techniques as parrhesia (frank, dangerous speech) is to be taken seriously, then the presence of sovereign command becomes liable to problematization. Foucault is explicit about the importance of self construction in his overall oeuvre, saying in his 1983-84 lectures at the Collège de France, “It seems to me that by examining the notion of parrhesia we can see how the analysis of modes of veridiction, the study of techniques of governmentality, and identification of forms of practices of self interweave” (2011a,

9 p. 8). That is, deployments of truth, power and the subject are active in the political milieu and therefore there are struggles at work not only with respect to defining sovereign spaces but also regarding sovereign inscription itself. Foucault continues on to say that “to reduce knowledge to power, and to make it the mask of power in structures, where there is no place for a subject, is purely and simply a caricature.” Foucault closes the issue by adding that “by carrying out this triple theoretical shift – from the theme of acquired knowledge to that of veridiction, from the theme of domination to that of governmentality, and from the theme of the individual to that of practices of the self – we can study the relations between truth, power, and subject without ever reducing each of them to the others” (9).

Foucault is clearly stating that domination – even domination by sovereign command – should not be unproblematically accepted to take primacy over modes of self-construction. In politics, not two (knowledge/power) but three themes interweave, and one of these, the last one to be included by Foucault, is the production of the subject which can be a self-production. Therefore, it is not only possible but imperative to critically ask whether and how the rules and inscriptions of sovereignty come about when practices of the self should be able, if not to halt and ward off, then at least confront and destabilize the genesis of sovereignty. It is also imperative that this critical inquiry be done without falling into individualist notions of subjectivity.

Yet, sovereign decision has not been critiqued from this Foucaultian perspective. Admittedly, Foucault’s lectures giving his most elaborated account of parrhesia have only recently been published in English in 2008. Still, it is worth noting that six years after their publication, political thought on sovereignty influenced by Foucault continues to limit self-practice to too-narrow conceptions of resistance occurring in a network of knowledge/power relations rather than in one of veridiction, governmentality, and practice of the self. As I demonstrate in

Chapter 3, affinities between Foucault’s conception of parrhesia and Weber’s charisma, specifically in their capacity to inaugurate the new, give the added impetus to inclusion of Foucault’s concept as another opportunity to rethink leadership in sovereignty and apply resources already existing in sociology and political philosophy in such an undertaking.

The problem of having no alternative to leadership than sovereign decision is compounded by a general neglect in sovereignty studies of Gilles Deleuze’s highly sophisticated philosophy which consistently seeks to foster and conceptualize social conditions of creative, political production. This is spite of the fact that several scholars have published excellent expository texts on Deleuze’s politics and applied Deleuzian thought to their own problematizations (Braidotti,

2006; Buchanan & Thoburn, 2008; Grosz, 2008; Holland, 1999, 2011; Lazzarato,

2012; Patton, 2000; Protevi, 2009; Read, 2003; Thoburn, 2003; Toscano, 2006).

Deleuze’s influence on Foucault is well-known, and Deleuze explicitly

11 problematizes the politics of the creation of the new in his singly authored work as well as his co-authored books with Félix Guattari (Deleuze & Guattari, 1983, 1987).

What is explicit in Deleuze is that the production of sovereignty is far from a mere matter of sovereign decision. For Deleuze, as will be explored in this dissertation, sovereignty is the effect of an invention that “takes” in a crystallization of dividing practices. Even today, as Deleuze’s work is taking on increasing importance in international political thought (Evans & Reid, 2013; Reid, 2010; M. Shapiro, 2008), with the exception of one article (Gammon, 2010), the tendency has been to focus on Deleuze and Guattari’s writing on political mobilization rather than on their trenchant critique of the state found in both volumes of Capitalism and

Schizophrenia. It is as a corrective to this neglect, but primarily because of the added value of bringing Deleuze and Guattari’s work on creative production into political thought on sovereignty, that this dissertation draws heavily from Deleuze and Guattari to offer a novel approach to understanding sovereignty and the relationship of leadership to sovereignty. My qualification, in this chapter title, of

“quasi-Weberian” is because my Deleuzian reading of Weberian charisma takes

Weber’s concept to the point of self-critique.

The notion that the production of sovereignty occurs at the intersection of threat-based geopolitics and security-based biopolitics has provoked fruitful critical discourse on decision. Although it is explicated using diverse terms, the idea behind this notion of “biopolitical sovereignty” is that the longstanding

12 juridical reading of sovereignty does not adequately describe present-day politics, or indeed previous modern political forms. Retaining the idea that biopolitics is complicit in the production of sovereignty, some theorists have critiqued biopolitical sovereignty’s dependence on Schmitt’s concept of decision. Andrew

Neal (2009), after related work by Roxanne Doty (2007), argues that sovereign decision can be subsumed into mundane, dispersed biopolitical performances of small innovations through which geopolitical security emerges. Alternatively, Nick

Vaughan-Williams (2010) presents decision as generalized sovereignty-simulating, biopolitical practices conducted in various agencies today. Vaughan-Williams tells us that these practices give the impression of total security although no sovereign exists with access to universal truth by which to be decisive. François Debrix and

Alexander Barber (2009) argue that the decentralized power in modernity encourages a likewise decentralized fear out of which a general mobilization occurs to neutralize a threat, insecurity, or danger. Debrix and Barder add in other writing that their interest is in taking up aspects of biopolitical and decisional thought without necessarily combining them to arrive at a model of sovereignty.

They offer “agonal sovereignty” as an emerging sovereign modality in which unlimited and destructive violence conducted for assuring the possibility of future combat rather than for victory. With agonal sovereignty, the sovereignty of the state gives way to “the sovereign majesty of the war machine” and a need to produce more and more heroic warring bodies against a combined enemy of the

13 state and of society itself (2012, p. 42). While accounts such as Debrix and Barder’s are illuminating and noteworthy for proposing that political thought on sovereignty seek to move beyond Schmitt’s notion of sovereign decision, they do not offer an alternative to Schmitt’s decision as the genesis of political authority, and in the absence of an alternative, the fallback remains Schmitt’s decision. In the case of Debrix and Barder, for example, while “glorious murders by heroic warring agents” may produce ever more warring bodies and a way if death, this leaves the production of the sovereign state replete with its social differentiations as the product of sovereign decision in the more conventional reading of Schmitt. As I have said above, the way of conceiving an alternative to decision is already available in Foucault’s late work, but the self-construction of subjectivity – seen perhaps as an indication of liberalist infiltration into Foucault’s critical stance or, worse, as an unfortunate turn to liberalism by Foucault himself in the last years of his life – remains unexplored in the context of sovereignty studies. In any case, if the self-construction of the subject is theoretically permissible, then sovereignty is not only the condition in which resistance occurs, it must in some way also be the product of such practices with knowledge and power.

In the more recent article “Correlating Sovereign and Biopower” (Dillon,

2004), Michael Dillon opens up some room for the problematization of sovereignty. Dillon writes that a project of “revivifying the promise of politics” must essentially involve “re-engaging the idea of sovereignty” (p. 42). Dillon poses

14 sovereignty as an idiom of power, a certain phrasing of power that changes from one age to another. The medieval idiom of sovereignty, for Dillon, is not the same as the modern idiom, and Dillon affirms the importance of asking the question of how the shift from the medieval to the modern idiom of sovereignty took place.

For Dillon, the exercise of sovereign power consists in a strategic maneuver conducted within the powerful condition of freedom. Of course, it is not the subject that is free, since the subject is the individuated product of sovereignty.

Nevertheless, it is possible to say on Dillon’s terms that freedom is the condition for the strategic move of sovereignty, and so freedom participates in the strategic move of sovereignty. Dillon gives further support to this notion by writing that

“power/knowledge” is a creative force that invents, and in the invention differentiates and divides (p. 55). We could take from this that in the midst of modes of veridiction, techniques of governmentality, and practices of the self, a strategic maneuver involving all three accomplishes a differentiation and division of things and in doing so establishes sovereignty, but Dillon does not allow this.

Working against Foucault, Dillon takes his cue from Agamben and precedes the biopolitical strategic maneuver with a sovereign decision of emergency. With the sovereign declaration of emergency, bare life is produced that becomes malleable to biopolitical strategization. For Dillon, geopolitics and biopolitics, sovereign power and biopower correlate. Sovereign power seen as the effect of creating bare life by an originary act of decision extinguishes the freedom that otherwise

15 conditions power relations. Once this initial sovereign act is accomplished, then the dividing strategization of biopower takes place. Sovereign power and biopower correlate but do not coincide. At least, Dillon would not agree that they coincide.

For Dillon there is a “spielraum,” a margin within the production and reproduction of biopower-sovereignty (p. 47). In this spielraum, two separate activities correlate, the sovereign decision and the deployment of a biopolitical assemblage. Also, one of the acts is primary here, and that is sovereign decision. In another text, Dillon and Lobo-Guerrero quote Agamben favorably in this regard, “there is no geopolitics without a correlate of biopolitics, and the production of the biopolitical body-politic is the original act of sovereignty” (2008, p. 276). The message is clearly that within the “spielraum” the sovereign founding decision comes first and the biopolitical deployment second. Although Dillon begins with the promising possibility that interrogating sovereignty may allow for its problematization, once again, we are forced to accept an authoritative leadership as commanding decision, and left bereft of a recourse for alternative modes of accomplishing political authority.

In this dissertation, my interest is to revivify leadership within the problem of the production of sovereignty-biopower. I want to make the case that sovereignty is not as simple to produce as commanding decision seems to suggest, and that there are certain conditions involving leadership that must be met for sovereignty to succeed. Making my case involves three moves. My first move, in

16 line with Deleuze and Guattari but also, I think, Foucault, is to deny the existence of a spielraum between sovereign decision and the biopolitical strategy. This allows me to make the argument that the transformation from medieval politics is a transformation from monarchic sovereignty to biopolitical sovereignty, and that in

England (unlike France) this happens without an intervening absolute sovereignty

(Chapter 2). My second move is to reconceptualize leadership as a means of attaining conditional, contingent political authority. Drawing first from affinities in Foucault’s parrhesia and Weber’s charisma (Chapter 3), but most heavily from

Deleuze’s overturning of Platonism, I argue that there are two modes of leadership operant in social relations (Chapter 4). While leadership by guardianship operates by judging the truth of subjects and objects according to founding myths, leadership by creative vicediction operates by presubjectively evaluated dramatizations that criticize and destabilize customary knowledge and guide others in the direction of another world. My third move is to argue that sovereignty is the product of the conjugation of leadership by creative vicediction and leadership by guardianship (Chapter 5). Thus, for example, European medieval monarchic sovereignty was the conjugation of Roman Scholastic guardianship by theologians and elites in the papacy with kingly charismatic vicediction. This conjugation took the form of the invention of a kingly divine right which altered the mystical force of charisma into a divine force thereby making charismatic kingship compossible with Scholastic doctrine. I conduct genealogical study of the

17 transformation in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries from monarchic sovereignty to biopolitical sovereignty (Chapter 2). With the disintegration of both poles of the conjugation of monarchic sovereignty – the disintegration of the kingly charismatic lineage and Scholastic doctrine – England experienced a crisis in which any leadership had the capacity to destabilize monarchy. From within this mode of crisis, a new conjugation was invented on the basis of a burgeoning knowledge of political arithmetic. Management, understood as the application of political arithmetic, became the means of guarding the English monarchic body politic from any leadership that appeared to unsettle and problematize those customs, by turning that leadership into a new founding myth. As I show, the application of political arithmetic was biopolitical. It is in this way that the idiom of sovereignty in England transformed from monarchic sovereignty to biopolitical sovereignty.

In a sentence, the argument of this dissertation is that leadership is constitutive of the genesis of sovereignty such that sovereignty is a product of the conjugation of leadership by guardianship and leadership by creative vicediction.

The Structure of the Dissertation

My thesis proceeds in five chapters following this introduction.

My study of leadership and sovereignty begins with a genealogical investigation, in

Chapter 2, of the transformation from monarchic sovereignty to liberal sovereignty

18 in seventeenth and eighteenth century England. The central argument I defend in this chapter is that whereas European monarchic sovereignty was the product of the conjugation of the guardianship of Christian Scholastic doctrine with the creative vicediction of kingly charisma, liberal sovereignty is produced by the conjugation of guardianship as the political arithmetic of the health of the body politic with any creative vicediction that comes to be seen as a threat to state sovereignty. The context of this change is the dual disintegration of faith in the

Papacy and in the charisma of the king’s lineage. With the disintegration of the conjugation of these two modes of leadership, the state came to be vulnerable to any form of creative vicediction, explaining a deep fear of counter effectuating leadership – and thus, in Machiavellian terms, the arrival of a new Prince – that is palpable in seventeenth century discourse on the state. This fear is hardly surprising given that Oliver Cromwell was nothing if not the individuation of an alternative sovereign out of an unsettling of the divine right of the Stuart monarchy. The fear was that with the fall of both poles of England’s founding myth

– Scholastic doctrine and kingly charisma – anyone could become tomorrow’s

Cromwell, revolutionizing the existing differential relations (between landowners, peasants, Catholics and Protestants, etc.) that had been cultivated over hundreds of years of monarchic rule.

I demonstrate that it is in this environment that political arithmetic is developed in seventeenth century England as a means of producing political order

19 by systematically gathering and interpreting data, commencing a biopolitical calculation that, distinctly in England, is never interrupted by absolute monarchy.

The monarchy in England, unlike France, is never strong enough to practice absolutism, and biopolitical management through political arithmetic deployment steadily gains influence in England until it has effectively taken over government from monarchic command by the end of the eighteenth century. Political arithmetic, a precursor to political economy, works by manipulating the data that constitutes the “body politic” (the relational differentiations, accomplished in monarchy) of the population by counting and categorizing people (according to age, religion, sex, etc.) and intervening into the lives of some types of people (for example, by putting a tax on beer consumption) while letting others live their life

“naturally” without direct intervention (and so by facilitation and creation of desires that seem natural). This intervention is made on a felt need to preserve the

“health” and “strength” of the body politic. While it is initially applied to establish suitable excise taxes that will fund monarchic wars without engendering instability in the population, I show that the customary activity of the body politic establishes itself as the ground of knowledge, the primary myth, for a new type leadership by guardianship in the form of management, where management is the application of political arithmetic to the specific problem of any appearance of leadership by creative vicediction that would threaten the health of the body politic. An alert of the presence of counter effectuating leadership is responded to by management as

20 the conjugation of that leadership with customary myths of the body politic by the biopolitical invention of a new myth, a new founding act that restores the body politic to health.

If the late seventeenth century marks the inauguration of political arithmetic, it also marks the moment in which liquid capital first appears with the establishment of the Bank of England. With the presence of liquid capital and, after the enclosure acts, also of “free” labor, capital-labor relations proliferate in

England’s cities. I show that it is in these relations that leadership by creative vicediction takes on its most potent form. A problem with the capital-labor encounter emerges, in that in the encounter capital loses its liquidity due to affective investment in a particular enterprise, and that profit now longer remains the overriding motive for investment. Through patronage relations, labor comes to guide capital, creating affective intensities of capital-investment that, through their perversion of customary divisions in the body politic – between landowner and laborer, Tory and Whig, Protestant and Catholic, English and alien – come to be seen as creative vicediction of the state itself. I show that creative vicediction through intense patronage relations directed by labor occurs in two cases – the

South Sea Company whose perverse leadership is incompossible with and thereby unsettles the position of landowners in England’s customary hierarchy and the superiority of the Hanoverian succession by being directed by individuals with

Jacobite affiliations, and the East India Company nabob who unsettles the myth of

21 the centrality and hierarchic superiority of England in its trade relations by forwarding a hybrid English-Indian image and the notion that India is as much a part of England as England itself. In both cases, I demonstrate that the leadership by creative vicediction which emerges is biopolitically conjugated with the leadership by guardianship, giving the state a new founding myth that is integrated into the population’s body politic. With these cases, I demonstrate that the refounding of the sovereign myth by the conjugation of the body politic by political arithmetical guardianship with creative vicediction comes to define

British policy and identity at the end of the eighteenth century.

The rest of this dissertation theoretically considers the relationship of leadership to sovereignty found in the genealogical investigations of Chapter 2.

Chapters 3 and 4 constitute a reconceptualization of leadership in the context of subject-individuation and as distinct from leadership in the commonsensical context of already individuated subjects. I do this by reading leadership in

Foucault’s conception of parrhesia (in Chapter 3) and into Deleuze’s overturning of

Platonism (in Chapter 4). While Foucault provides a promising direction for thinking about leadership, it is Deleuze, with the primacy he gives to life’s creativity in his philosophy, who provides the philosophical ground for my conceptualization of leadership. In Chapter 3, I propose that Foucault’s interest in parrhesia as a “technique of the self,” particularly in his reading of Cynic parrhesia, can be fruitfully taken as an exemplar for new political thought on leadership. I

22 make my case by comparing parrhesia with Weber’s charisma, the only force

Weber allows for inserting new valuations into traditional and rational-legal legitimate dominations. I propose that charisma and parrhesia share five key characteristics, or affinal points of connection. Both parrhesia and charisma are relations of guidance that – rather than teach according to doctrine or consequence – influence by the introduction of the extraordinary into life. For

Weber the extraordinary takes the form of heroism while for Foucault it takes the form of a dangerous truth that destabilizes customary knowledge. Secondly, both parrhesia and charisma feature a strong sense of calling, a driving force to alter practices according to the expressed truth. The third, fourth and fifth connections relate to the communities created by parrhesia and charisma. These social collectives exhibit anti-economism and a passion to do all they can to support their cause, avoid all internal hierarchies within their community, and create informal, substantive modes of justice. In addition, both find their relation of authority to be absent in the present age – for Foucault parrhesia is a mode of philosophical heroism that has been replaced by philosophy as a “teaching profession” and Weber’s source of pessimism regarding the modern man is his inability to introduce new value into his actions that are rational-legally derived.

Charisma and parrhesia, I argue, are not only similar but express an overabundance of identities. Although it is rarely acknowledged, I propose that this should hardly be surprising given Foucault’s longstanding interest in Weber’s

23 work. Foucault’s governmentality can be productively set next to Weber’s psycho- sociology of modern man, Menschentum, to reveal the parallel courses taken by these two thinkers on the modern predicament. Both share a critical curiosity – one that revolves around Kant’s presentation in “What is Enlightenment?” – about life, about seeing how we have come to be how we are as a philosophical problem.

Yet, even with all of their parallels, particularly on the subject of leadership, the staggering difference between Foucault and Weber is that while Weber sought to take the side of society against an unrelenting politics of interest played out in law, for Foucault the choice between supporting the state or society is a false one because society is itself (along with its individual subjects) the product of power relations. Weber approached charisma as a possible therapy to the problem that the Menschentum is unable to derive new valuations from his rational-legal calculations, while Foucault approached parrhesia looking for techniques for confronting others within society with dangerous truths. Whereas conventional wisdom may presume that it is precisely at points such as leadership that Weber and Foucault part ways, careful study shows that leadership is actually a fruitful point of connection between these two thinkers.

Chapter 4, in which I continue my reconceptualization of leadership, takes the newly garnered knowledge of parrhesia as a form of leadership to Deleuze’s philosophy in the hope of gaining a better understanding of how leadership can retain its political force once the subject has been understood to be a political

24 construct. While Deleuze does not offer a conception of leadership, what Deleuze does offer is a highly developed philosophy of creativity. Taking Deleuze’s

Difference and Repetition as my guide, I conduct a Deleuzian reading of parrhesiastic leadership. This undertaking is assisted by the key move of

“overturning Platonism” that underlies Deleuze’s presentation of his philosophy in that work, which allows me to interrogate Plato’s concept of the philosopher king with a Deleuzian project of conducting my own overturning, and in this way I create a Deleuzian double to Plato’s philosopher king.

While Plato’s philosopher king claims his truth according to a play on the customary and doctrinal myths of society, overturned Platonic leadership trespasses on such myths to reveal their falsity and guide others toward another way of being. This constitutes a mode I call, after Deleuze (1994, p. 46), leadership by creative vicediction, of which Foucaultian parrhesia is exemplary. Leadership by creative vicediction is conducted not by claims to reality but by ironic and humorous dramatizations that problematize norms. Creative vicediction involves the art of humor in that it re-presents in detail the consequences of excessive and extreme adherence to a norm, and it involves the philosophy of irony in that, through its presentation, it overturns the principle behind the norm. Leadership by creative vicediction is a form of guidance that covers its own inventive irony with a parody of customary knowledge. Like Foucault’s parrhesiastic Diogenes who, by the irony of his claim that he is the true king falsifies the currency of the

25 monarchic economy under Alexander, leadership by creative vicediction trespasses on customary myths to unveil a new, previously unknown sense of reality.

Leadership by creative vicediction is an act of doubling leadership in the Platonic mode of the philosopher king in a dramatization that is cruel for forcing others, through irony and humor, to participate in the counter-effectuation of actuality and the inauguration of the new.

Additionally, whereas Platonic leadership spreads by the judgment of its claims to truth according to authoritative founding myths in society, thereby limiting leadership to the guardianship of those myths, leadership by creative vicediction provokes an affective, aesthetics of participation and proliferates by such presubjective evaluation of its problematization of customary knowledge.

Selection here is affirmation of a creative vicediction. Whereas Platonic claims are judged true on the authority of the myth, leadership by creative vicediction is affirmed, or not, by every participant, spreading only as far as the counter effectuation provokes participation. The aesthetics of participation I describe bears affinities to both Weber’s “charismatic qualifications” and Foucault’s “ethical differentiation” where it is the listener who qualifies the nature of their relationship to the vicediction. This affective relation describes an encounter with something that is anomalous, and outside of customary knowledge. As such, it engenders a relation of alliance with something (some idea or notion) that is outside of the society’s logos, dispersing the central authority of the community

26 into different small groups or packs of those who affirm one or another anomalous truth. It is as such that creative vicediction engenders a critical attitude to customary myths and creates a passage for the entry of the new into society. I argue that both of these modes of leadership – leadership by creative vicediction and Platonic leadership which I term leadership by guardianship – operate in societies.

Chapter 5 brings the reconceptualization of leadership carried out in the previous two chapters – that is, as the two modes of leadership by creative vicediction and leadership by guardianship – to argue the central claim of this dissertation, which is that sovereignty is the product of the conjugation of these two modes of leadership. My argument draws from longstanding knowledge in social anthropology and mythology that political authority is produced by the coming together of two forms of influence, mystical alliance and supernatural incorporation. In anthropology, both of these forms of influence are said to arrive from the unknown, however their sources are qualitatively different in that mystical alliance occurs with the entry of knowledge that is external to the customs of a community and supernatural incorporation occurs in the actions of known supernatural, divine sources acting through a human agent. Whereas mystical influence creates alliances with what is outside of the community, supernatural attack in anthropology is said to reconstitute the blood and bone of the self and kin. I take this knowledge from anthropology to interrogate a central,

27 authoritative source of the late modern conception (a conception with a long history going back at least to Hobbes) of a direct relationship of leadership to political authority, a conception that encourages sovereignty scholars to accept sovereignty by decision too readily: Freud’s Group Psychology and the Analysis of the Ego. In particular, I propose that Freud’s notion that sovereign authority naturally evolves from the primal repression of the son’s relation with the father becomes suspect on the recognition that totemism is a relation of mystical influence and not of supernatural incorporation. This alternative understanding of totemism is not only present in social anthropology on mystical influence but also elaborated in the social psychology of Gabriel Tarde to which Freud tries to respond in his Group Psychology. Whereas the father can subjectify by command on the authority of the son’s love and repressive identification with the father, the totem’s influence is not based on a sense of guilt over a primal patricide, as Freud conjectures, but on an encounter with what is mystical and anomalous in that it creatively unsettles customs and their myths. Thus, leadership by guardianship, by the father’s judgment, cannot be sufficient to create political authority since leadership by creative vicediction remains available for taking on a critical attitude.

To understand how sovereign authority can be established, I turn once again to Deleuze, but this time to his co-authored work with Félix Guattari. I begin by noting that for these authors, and as further developed by the Deleuzian scholar

Eugene Holland, what is notable is that the non-establishment of sovereignty in so-called primitive societies is accomplished by a “warding off” of sovereign authority achieved by separating and limiting two leadership functions. From here,

I propose that it takes not only the coincidence of the two modes of leadership conceived in the previous chapters, but the conjugation of these two modes to individuate – in the sense given by Gilbert Simondon’s social ontogenesis as crystallization that individuates by giving form to a metastable milieu – both the state and sovereign. With the conjugation of creative vicediction and guardianship, the vicediction itself becomes the new myth to be guarded, and the humor and irony of the vicediction turn into a mobilized paranoia motivated at any cost to inscribe self and others according to the truth of the new myth. I argue that European monarchic sovereignty is the product of just such an individuation through the conjugation of leadership by guardianship in Papal and Scholastic doctrine and leadership by creative vicediction in the form of kingly charisma which undermined the authority of Christian divinity. It took the conjugation of the two, the conjugating kingly charisma with Scholastic thought by the invention of the divine right of kings, to establish monarchic sovereignty in medieval Europe.

The final and sixth chapter of the dissertation summarizes the argument made about the role of leadership in state genesis, and situates it within present day discourse on sovereignty.

1 Comparative and single case political leader studies include Burns (1978); Willner (Willner, 1984); Skowronek (1993); Greenstein (2001); Gergen (2001); Keohane (2005); Rhode (2003); Samuels (2005); English (2000); Brown (Brown, 1997, 2007); Blondel (Blondel, 1987, 2010); Elcock (2001); Hennessy (2001); Breslauer (2002). 2 From among the very large Leadership Studies literature, which for the most part focuses on business leadership, the following is a sampling of notable writing on charismatic and transformational leadership, both mainstream and critical in the discipline: Beyer (1999), Collinson (2006), Uhl-Bien, Marion, and McKelvey (2007); Osborn and Hunt (2007); House (1977); Bass and Avolio (1994); Bass (1998); Yukl (2002); Ciulla (2004); Goethals and Sorenson (2007); Lord and Brown (2004). 3 Texts that fall into this area include Ruscio (2008), Wren (2007); Tsebelis (2011), Walker (2006); Michels (1915). 4 See Barber (1972); Simonton (1987); Jervis (2006); Altemeyer (1996); Feldman and Valenty (2001); George and George (1964); Post (2004). 5 See Barker, Johnson, and Lavalette (2001); Stutje (2012); Fairclough (2001); Garrow (2004); Jones (1993); McAdam (2010); McAdam, Tarrow, and Tilly (2001); Mansbridge (1986); Morris (1986); Dell Porta and Diani (2009); Oberschall (1973); Piven and Cloward (2012); Tarrow (1998); Freeman (1971- 1972); McQuinn (2002); Jun and Wahl (2010). 6 See Keck and Sikkink (1998); Risse, Ropp, and Sikkink (1999); Finnemore and Sikkink (1998); Risse (2000). 7 See Neustadt and May (1988); Khong (1992); Nye (2008); Jervis (1976). 8 See Ake (1966); Bendix (1965, 1967a, 1967b, 1977); Lash and Whimster (1987); Mommsen (1990; 1992); Gane (2002); Hennis (Hennis, 1988a, 1988b, 1998); Swedberg (2000); Kalberg (1980); Tribe (2007a); Balke (2011); Horn (2011); Jaeger (2011); Werber (2011); Stäheli (2011); Schäfer (2011); Szakolczai (2003, 2007); Owen (1994).

Chapter 2: Biopolitical Sovereignty by Management of the Body Politic

My focus in this chapter is on a transformation that occurred in England from monarchic sovereignty to liberal sovereign state. While in seventeenth century Prussia and especially in France the decline of both the charismatic kingly legacy and Scholastic doctrine led to a renewed attempt to consolidate monarchic sovereignty under the authority of raison d’état, England distinctly turned away from monarchic sovereignty in the seventeenth century, pioneering a form of sovereign social organization – which I term biopolitical sovereignty – that would spread throughout Europe and eventually crystallize sovereign states throughout the world.

I demonstrate in this chapter that the political authority of Scholastic doctrine in monarchic sovereignty is succeeded in the liberal state by a doctrinal guardianship of the body politic – understood as the differential relations between subjects developed over centuries of monarchic rule – through the application of political arithmetic. Whereas Scholasticism combined with kingly charisma to produce European monarchic sovereignties, guardianship of the body politic after the fall of Scholasticism and kingly charisma involved deploying political

31 arithmetic to address the threat of creative vicediction in whatever guise it appeared. This markedly distinguishes the biopolitical sovereign state from its predecessor. It is also a direct outcome of the crisis of monarchic sovereignty in seventeenth century England when the vulnerability of the monarchy was so acutely felt that any other leadership was conceived as a potential threat to the monarchic state. The threat of new leadership forms is understandable given that overthrow by a new leadership is precisely what occurred with the rise of the

Cromwellian Protectorate, under whose rule the relational social differentiations

(the hierarchical, sectoral, and other divisions in society) between landowners and peasants were thrown into disarray by new cleavages between monarchist

Cavaliers and roundheads. However, lacking an alternative doctrine to guard,

Cromwell ultimately relied on the same divine right that had been disputed during

Charles I’s reign. Therefore, on his death, the Cromwellian lineage never took and

England was once again vulnerable to leaderships of all kinds – from Levelers, to different religious sects, to French influence, and of course to the return of the

Stuarts. Even after the “Glorious Revolution” monarchic sovereignty continued to be highly vulnerable to threats from other leaderships, and it is well-known among historians of Britain that even the period between late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries, the period from the Restoration up to and including the age of Walpole, was beset by a general air of anxiety (Black, 1984; Cruickshanks, 1979;

Plumb, 1967).

This chapter proceeds in four sections. In the first section, I show that leadership was problematized and responded to by recourse to pastoralism in the canonical post Interregnum texts of James Harrington’s Oceana, Robert Filmer’s

Patriarcha, and Algernon Sidney’s Discourses on Government. However, the problem with alternative government forms proposed in this discourse is that they did not provide a new basis of rule since the general notion of pastoral care was too vague to constitute a doctrine. The question that remained open in this discourse was about the basis upon which the head of government could be judged as minister of the body politic once divine right had been disqualified. The answer to this question is not found in that discourse but came in the form of management by political arithmetic, a peculiarly English mathematic evolution of medieval pastoralism, which is the subject of the second section. Here, I describe political arithmetic as a biopolitical deployment and present its application in

William Petty’s recommendations for addressing “the Irish problem,” and in

Charles Davenant’s 1699 and Robert Walpole’s 1733 excise tax proposals. The third section is a study of the accomplishment of the prime ministerial position with

Walpole’s ascension by virtue of his management of the South Sea Bubble crisis of

1720 which I argue was a crisis of leadership that was “vicedicting” for unsettled customary authority and the social differentiations it guarded. My concept of vicedicting leadership is elaborated in detail in Chapter 4. The focus in the fourth section is on Prime Minister William Pitt’s handling of the East India Company

33 crisis in 1784, another case of unsettling, vicedicting leadership. These four sections together show that management as the political arithmetic of the body politic became a form of guarding the body politic, guarding against afflictions of the body politic by leadership by vicediction. Management displaced divine right and became the defining role of the British prime ministerial position, and the means by which the state was sustained after the disintegration of monarchic sovereignty.

This chapter comprises a genealogy of leadership in seventeenth and eighteenth century England that results from archival and secondary source study of problematizations of leadership in seventeenth and eighteenth century discourse and practice.

Leadership Thinking: On the Scope of the Genealogy

Taken together, the four sections of the genealogy compose a story of the development of British liberal statehood as a transformation from monarchic sovereignty (a sovereignty characterized in the late seventeenth century by widespread paranoia about governmental dissolution in the hands of vicedicting leadership) into a British liberal state made sovereign by the a political authority

(re)created in the combination of customary doctrinal guardianship and creative vicediction by political arithmetic management. Management arises from the seventeenth century as the application of the biopolitical technology of political

34 arithmetic to effectively undermine leadership relations that problematize the myths of the body politic. Management of any threatening vicediction by political arithmetic is increasingly applied as an intentional strategy of government, a strategy that has the unintended effect of producing the state anew on every deployment. Political arithmetic is “the systematic gathering and interpretation of demographic and economic data” (T. McCormick, 2007, p. 259) with a view to undermining any leadership by vicediction that was deemed a threat to the well- being of the body politic. Through massive and detailed surveillance, and the manipulation of variously categorized subjects, management becomes the virtuosity of systematically redirecting subjects’ desires away from leaderships that pose a threat to the body politic. By altering leadership by creative vicediction into something compossible with the body politic, and by making subjects indifferent to vicedicting leadership relations, the intensity of leadership by vicediction is abated and management – the guardianship of the body politic by the application of political arithmetic – proves itself to possess the virtue of transmuting potentially hostile, vicedicting, subjects into governmental activists without directly confronting and thereby legitimating their initial stance. Political arithmetic is strategically deployed to undermine leadership by vicediction with the unintended effect of reproducing the state at every deployment, introducing dynamism to biopolitical sovereignty not found in monarchic sovereignty. Political arithmetical preoccupation with bodies comes to be seen as a useful means of

35 defusing vicedictions that threaten customary social differentiations, however the unintended effect of deployments of political arithmetic is that changes in socially differentiations become inevitable as the state is iteratively produced anew according to a new founding myth. Biopolitical strategies seeking to protect the relatively stable social differentiation of monarchic sovereignty have the unintended effect of putting those relations into question as new founding myths re-network or re-systematize relations of domination. It is in this way that biopolitical sovereignty describes a network of power relations that “are both intentional and nonsubjective” (Foucault, 1990b, p. 94).

At a time when the threat of leadership as creative vicediction rendered monarchic statecraft impotent, the cultivation of techniques for managing the emergence of vicedicting leadership transforms the state. This transformation required a conceptual change in the sense of leadership by guardianship itself.

With biopolitics, the figure of the leader as guardian shifts from being the possessor of an inviolable divine authority to being the possessor of an elusive trait of managerial authority expressed in virtuosity with respect to political arithmetic.

The long eighteenth century between William and Mary’s “Glorious Revolution” and imperial Britain is a period in England in which monarchic sovereignty expresses its authority for the final time in the increasingly less important

European battle theater while biopolitical sovereignty arrives and in time fully displaces its predecessor.

Another but certainly no less important finding in my genealogy is that a symbiotic relation emerges between biopolitical sovereignty and capitalism during this time, after capital’s liquefaction with the founding of the Bank of England in

1694. Grounded, as it is, on the customary knowledge of political arithmetic – a customary knowledge that should be distinguished from and predates the discipline of Economy’s canonical theories – the management of vicedicting leadership comes to capture, direct and sustain capital flows that are not themselves self-perpetuating. This is because the most potent form of leadership by creative vicediction that arises in eighteenth century England, and the source of the country’s greatest domestic crises (Hoppit, 1986), is enterprise patronage. I show in the studies below – most vividly in the case of Pitt’s management of the

East India Crisis –a tendency for the liquid capital-labor encounter to become relations of ardent patronage with capital strictly qualified to invest in a specific enterprise. Patronage, the funding of enterprise, creates authority relations that undermine the encounter between “free” labor and capital by perverting the domination of capital in that encounter on the grounds of a shared belief in some particular enterprise. Leadership, as the contagion of new ideas, turns patronage driven by profit into “perverse” patronage driven by an affect-laden commitment to particular production and to particular productive relations. With enterprise leadership, patronages emerge that are committed to a particular production sometimes even at any cost. Patronage relations take the form of pack leadership

37 by creative vicediction in that they turn liquid capital into highly qualified and discriminating investments on the basis of passionate belief in a particular enterprise, and thus stop flows of capital by seeking to reinvest back into the desired productive relation regardless of expectations of returns on the investment. I show that such leaderships are doubly vicedicting in that they stop the flows of capital upon which the relations of debt in England now depend, and in that they often create leadership authorities that undermine the differential relations of the body politic. Patronage relations can passionately support the ideas of those within the laboring class, the ideas of Jacobites, and of subjects whose leadership otherwise unsettles the myths of the body politic. Since capital flows can terminate in enterprise patronage, it takes work to keep capital flowing, and this work is unintentionally achieved by management. Through the management of vicedicting leadership, capital flows are released from intense patronage investments and redirected to investments that sustain the myths of the body politic. In this way, the maintenance of encounters between liquid capital and

“free” labor is assured, and capital gives the impression of flowing on the basis of profit-seeking. In its attempts to tame leadership, biopolitical management consolidates the sovereignty of a liberal state and becomes the motor of capitalism.

The pattern of behavior brought about by the management of enterprise patronages that exhibit vicedicting leadership, general at least to the cases studied here, is schematized in abstract form below.

Emergent Re-individuated Threat of State at time Creative t=b Vicediction

Perverse, qualified Patronage

Conjugation of guardianship Composite of and falsifying leadership by myths that political arithmetic individuate the management State at time t=a

Random walk of State individuation in time

Figure 1: The Random Walk of the Liberal State’s Individuation in Response to Leadership Threats

The diagram in Figure 1 is an abstract rendering of political arithmetic

guardianship’s undermining of enterprise patronage relations that emerge as

vicedicting leadership. At some time, t=a, the state effect is individuated by a

composite of myths of the body politic. New encounters of capital and free labor

inevitably lead to “perverse” patronage relations in which capital is not drive by a

desire for profit but by affective, sometimes contagious investment in an

enterprise. Perverse patronage, as I demonstrate below, is liable to unsettle the

differential relations of the body politic, by encouraging, for example, that 39 landowners be directed by the laboring class. That is, with ardent, “perverse” patronage, investment is directed by productive relations that can even be directed by labor rather than by the search for profit, and the emergent leadership can undermine English social hierarchies by creating relations where landowning owners of capital are guided by labor, Protestant by Jacobite or Catholic,

Englishman by alien, etc. The patronage relation emerges as a threat of vicedicting leadership, and guardians of the body politic biopolitically manage the threat by incorporating together, or conjugating, the perverse patronage with myths of the body politic to release the qualifications of capital flows and to make the enterprise leadership compossible with the body politic. In my empirical studies I find that the biopolitical management of the crisis involves a mix of both creating new laws to address the crisis and of political arithmetic deployments. The new laws and the political arithmetic deployments together create a new founding myth of the body politic out of the vicedicting leadership, which is integrated into the composite of fragmentary mythic encodings that individuate the state at time t=b.

As an example of the conjugation of guardianship of the body politic and vicedicting leadership in the form of perverse patronage, consider the imaginary

State X which at time t=a has a dominant rice industry. An encounter between liquid capital and “free” labor develops into a perverse qualified patronage relation in an enterprise of musical instrument production under the direction of those

40 within the laboring class. Seemingly all of a sudden, State X becomes populated by composers, clarinetists, music lovers, metal smiths, and reed makers. Threatened by the imminent arrival of a leadership that vicedicts the state’s rice production identity, state managers conduct biopolitical deployments to address the threatening leadership. Employing political arithmetical knowledge of the population’s demography and economy, they find that some industrial authorities have a need to pacify padi laborers. They create connections (through the subsidies, tax restructuring, etc.) between these authorities and the clarinet makers, and the former invest in the music business on the condition that their output is conducive to a traditional musical form said to be preferred by padi laborers. The state now, at time t=b, becomes identified for its rice industry and traditional peasant music. The capital-labor encounters now occur for profit, and in the interest of this state identity. This imaginary example illustrates the sovereignty producing conjugation of guardianship and creative vicediction I find below in my study of leadership in eighteenth century England.

Let us now move on to the genealogy of leadership in early modern

England.

Pastoralism in Post-Revolutionary Discourse on Machiavelli’s The Prince

Pastoral Care of the Passions after the Council of Trent

So as to show how political arithmetic involved pastoral care, I begin by describing the formal, regulated application of pastoral care by the Church in the sixteenth century Council of Trent, following the heresy of Martin Luther. As I show later in this section, the tradition of pastoral care informed much of the republican discourse on government after monarchy in seventeenth century

England. However, this discourse, though valuable, remained inapplicable in

England because, while the Church could apply pastoral care on the basis of

Scholastic Christian myth, no alternative knowledge basis for the application of pastoral care was available until the invention of political arithmetic.

If the sixteenth century Council of Trent introduced a new regime of discourse regarding sins of the flesh, as Foucault writes in History of Sexuality: An

Introduction, this is at least as true with regard to sins of heresy or false claims to knowledge. For Foucault, the Council’s Decree increased the scope of confession of the flesh through meticulous rules of self-examination of one’s sexuality. Yet, this self-examination pertained to both sins of the flesh and to sins of heresy. Indeed, it was Luther’s Protestant heresy that was the immediate concern at the Council’s meeting, twenty years after the publication of the 95 Theses in 1517 – itself arguably an act of leadership by creative vicediction. Pope Leo X had made imprudent

42 declarations against Luther that only served to directly pit that protester against

Leo and to raise Luther’s status with respect to the Church. The Council determined an alternative course of action to direct attack that was hoped to have the result of disarming rather than consolidating Luther’s authority.

The Council of Trent raised and standardized pastoral approaches already evident in Church practice throughout Europe to official status. Standardized, centrally regulated pastoralism served as an alternate, indirect means of addressing heresy to direct repression of heretics through corporal punishment.

With the Council, confession was converted from a haphazard and varied practice in Europe to a centrally regulated and managed means of attaining sanctity before

God. Both the lay public and the priesthood were made to confess, and to confess regularly. Throughout Europe, a new standardized regime of truth for both clergy and laity was put into effect. This regime worked through the techniques of ecclesiastic seminary for entry into diocesan clergy, conference of grace through the sacraments – particularly the sacrament of the penance – and the provision of a clear account of the process of justification.

Moral hygiene was ensured in the clergy and laity by justification, the voluntary acceptance of God’s supernatural grace by adult Christians that begins with a repentance of sins and desire for absolution through the sacrament of penance. Penance, like baptism, justifies the sinner to holiness. Conference of grace in penance occurs through a two-step process of confession and

43 sanctification through communion with the Eucharist. Through continuing processes of confession both in the clergy and laity, heretical acts and thoughts are searched out, individuated as personal sin, and redeemed through penance. Where the focus had before been on the corporal punishment of heretics or impersonal penance, it now turned to a disciplining and redirection of investments in the priestly class and the laity through continuing confessional practices.

The Church was acutely aware that Protestant claims occurred within a context in which the feudal impetus for glory remained in effect. Members of the aristocracy felt compelled to gain prestige in the battlefield, carried a ‘passion for military glory’ and a yearning for self-aggrandizement (Kahn & Saccamano, 2009, pp. 2-3). If these feudal forces were to enter the growing schism, if members of nobility were to seek glory in their Protestant conversion – as they had already done in the French Wars of Religion – then Luther’s authority could result in the entrenchment of Protestant political power within kingly hierarchies. Pastoral care was a technique by which the passions, which had been the fount of virtues among the nobility in the Middle Ages, became an aspect of all humans that had to be economically given the ‘right disposition’ so as to lead to a suitable end.

The Church’s investment in the private, pastoral care of its flock as a response to the problem of heresy has ramifications that could not have been envisioned by the authors of the Trent Decrees. What Catholic penitence and

Protestant self-examination accomplished was an effective redirection of passions

44 through the insertion of guided self-examination and an economy of merits and faults in passional practices. For every experience of countervailing passions,

Catholic pastoral care instructed piety and gifted sanctity; for every call to glory, pastoral care instructed self-examination. In the case of Protestant pastoral care passions were redirected towards acquisitiveness, a virtue not unrelated to

Catholic piety in that salvation was to be found in it. In either case, through self- examination the individual learns something else of herself and through doubt and distrust in her passions the individual accomplishes some other truth.

This is the new form of power that the Christian pastorate brings to society in the sixteenth century: a technique of “investigation, self-examination, and the examination of others, by which a certain inner truth of the hidden soul becomes the element through which the pastor’s power is exercised” (Foucault, 2009, pp.

183-184). No longer defined by the splendor of actions, individualization becomes

“a game of dissection” that circulates and balances merits and faults at every moment, becomes subjection to guidance that excludes the self, and the production of an ‘internal, secret, and hidden truth’ that must be excavated. What pastoral care accomplishes is a stealthy shift of the ground of truth claims – the great weapon of heresy – from direct sense to a hidden thing to be uncovered.

Leadership as guardianship undergoes a transformation with pastoral care.

Whereas it had been about the guardianship of scholastic doctrine in medieval

Europe, it now becomes a matter of managing the desires of others first by

45 knowing every aspect of others’ desires and then by justifying desires by encouraging some and suppressing others. With pastoral care medieval subjects learn to look upon pastors as managers of subjects’ own desires. People learn to become suspicious of their passions and to seek direction in others who can inform them of how their passions may be justified. This two-step process of making subjects confess and then justifying desires is key to management in biopolitical sovereignty and to the application of political arithmetic.

Pastoral Care of the Passions in the Republican Tradition of the English Interregnum

In the seventeenth century, one hundred years after Council of Trent, leadership by creative vicediction becomes an overarching anxiety in England as

Scholastic doctrine and kingly charisma, the two leadership elements that together form the conjugate of the king’s divine right, cease to carry authority. In this context Machiavelli’s The Prince appears to dramatically illustrate the English concern. This problem is that if princes no longer rule on the basis of established authority, then there is no authority by which to judge others’ claims to principality. Any leadership has the potential to become a leadership that vicedicts

English kingship. Furthermore, for Machiavelli, prince, principality and people can emerge in a fully formed circular relation that is not grounded in a universal truth but only in the specific context at hand. It is thus not only that English kingship is at risk, but that the differential relations constitutive of English society, its body

46 politic, are susceptible to being overhauled with every new vicedicting leadership which conjugates with some sectarian doctrine. The fear is that after the demise of

English monarchic sovereignty, not only will England’s body politic be successively revolutionized, it will also be decimated as the country disintegrates into fighting factions.

During the weak monarchic rule that follows the Interregnum, the problem found in The Prince sets off a discourse on the origin of state authority. The major texts in this discourse are Robert Filmer’s Patriarcha (1680), John Locke’s Two

Treatise on Government (1698/1989), James Tyrell’s Patriarcha Non Monarcha

(1681), and Algernon Sidney’s Discourses Concerning Government (1698/1680).

What I seek to show is that, in their implicit response to Machiavelli’s challenge about the arbitrary nature of state rule, this discourse seeks recourse in pastoralism. My finding of recourse in pastoralism in these texts extends Foucault’s finding of a shared anti-Machiavellian recourse to pastoralism in French texts.1

Filmer makes the argument that kingship need not be considered arbitrary because it rests on the natural and absolute paternal authority of the father, and so even in the absence of grounding in religious doctrine the subject’s obligation to the sovereign is identical to the unquestioning obedience a child owes to his father

(Schochet, 1975, pp. 136-158). Filmer turns directly to the scriptures to support his position, writing that at the very beginning of human incarnation on Earth, Adam had been a monarch of the world, having the very same divine right as the present-

47 day monarchy. Just as the clerical father may take the confessions and administer the justification of his flock, so may the king rule as father over his subjects.

Following Thomistic doctrine according to which Paradise is characterized by governance, Filmer conjoins divine right with government, and bases government on fatherhood’s “Supreme and Paternall Head.” With the Fall, Filmer finds that this paternal grant of government persists and turns to the scriptures to show that it is explicitly conferred by God. This power is perpetuated by primogenitive succession, and distributed throughout the world in different familial-lingual lineages. This is how kings have come to rule the world by a divine right that is from the start complicit with government as the care of the king’s subjects.

Therefore, one cannot deny divine right and from there argue that rule is simply a matter of Machiavellian virtu. What must be acknowledged is that divine right and government are complicit, and so by denying divine right one is also denying good government. Kingly power, for Filmer, is both magisterial and ministerial. Pastoral power, the power of a father of surveillance and justification of his child, extends to the king’s relation to his subjects.

Harrington’s Oceana (1771/1656) and his later The Prerogatives of Popular

Government (1771/1657) combines the authority of pastoral power with the concept of social contract entered into by reasonable men to justify a new hierarchy of governmental leadership (guardianship). In doing so, Harrington brings pastoral power into the heart of republican thought. In the latter text, Harrington considers

48 the source of authority, and places it in the ‘paterfamilias’ who is responsible for the management of his property (as his land, household and things) (1977, p. 410).

Here, two concepts, the father as pastor and property as the object of pastoral care, are brought together to create the amalgam of a father as the pastor of his property and the ground of political authority. As property-owners, fathers are the “sheep of their own pastures” (Harrington, 1771/1656, Ch. III), both the subjects of pastoral guidance and the guides of their households. Harrington adds that “fathers of families are of three sorts” (ibid.). These are the sole landowner as absolute monarch, the distribution of princes each having their property, and a commonwealth administered by a “king and priest” to whom tithes are paid. With these three families, Harrington models a linear ascension of the management of property – the paterfamilias manages the household, and is himself managed by an administrator.

For Harrington authority is pastoral. The principles of authority, for

Harrington, “are founded upon the goods of the Mind” (1771/1656, The

Preliminarys), and the foundation of government as the government of property by fathers acts on such principles. When combined with fortune, the goods of the mind can result in good government. What are the goods of the mind? They are reason and passion, ‘two potent rivals’ that are continuously in conflict. “For, as whatever was Passion in the contemplation of a man,” Harrington adds, “being brought forth by his will into action, is Vice and the bondage of Sin; So whatever

49 was Reason in the contemplation of a man, being brought forth by his will into action, is virtue and the freedom of the Soul” (ibid.). Only through self- examination of one’s passions can the virtue of reason be attained, and the soul of man freed. Harrington continues this thought by noting that when action is driven by passion alone and leads to sin, the man acquires repentance and shame, and affects others with scorn and pity, but when action is driven by reason and leads to virtue, the man acquires honor and authority upon others. Pastoral self- examination is the principle of authority, and this principle ascends up the scale of government from the paterfamilias to the government of men as fathers, and on to

God, “whose Government consists of Heaven and Earth.” This continuous relation is possible because, after all, the soul of man is the “Image of God” (1771/1656, Ch.

IV) So the art of government is pastoral care of property as the people and things one shepherds, and this art is the one art practiced regardless of the scale of one’s care.

The creative response found in both Filmer’s and Harrington’s texts – also found in Francois La Mothe Le Vayer’s L’Oeconomique du Prince (1669), as

Foucault points out – is to liken the running of the state to the father’s management of the household, itself modeled on the pastoral care of the priest.

Foucault adds that according to La Mothe Le Vayer there are “three types of government, each falling under a science or particular form of reflection: the government of oneself, which falls under morality; the art of properly governing a

50 family, which is part of economy; and finally, the ‘science of governing well’ the state, which belongs to politics” (2009, p. 93). For Foucault, the point is that there is in La Mothe Le Vayer’s account, as there is in Harrington’s, a continuity from one form of government to another. Foucault adds that whereas monarchic sovereign theory constantly tries ‘to make clear the discontinuity’ between sovereign and other power (as seen above in Bacon’s appeal to James I’s indisputable prerogatives), in the arts of government a continuity that is both upward (in the form of the education of the ruler) and downward (in the form of police as good government) is sought. The value of this continuity is that it establishes an isomorphism of relations in governmental conduct, allowing

Foucault to call the whole complex of relations that ensues ‘governmentality’ defined as the result of a process by which religious justice in the Middle Ages becomes the administrative state in modernity(p. 109).

My addition to Foucault’s finding is that a similar discourse is to be seen in classic English republican (Harrington) and “Tory” (Filmer) literature. I have shown that pastoral care is central to political discourse about the legitimate basis for political leadership after the Revolution. However, the basis of judgment for rulership remains in question in this discourse. Both Harrington and Filmer rely on a divine authority to administer pastoral care, making both of their solutions to the Machiavellian challenge susceptible to the same critique as that of the king’s diving right. Additionally, there is no worldly means by which to judge good rule

51 from bad on these accounts, no basis for reason. It is well known that in representative systems like Harrington’s almost anything can be gotten through flattery and what is needed is a basis of measuring good management of the body politic from bad. Therefore, while this literature directs intellectual focus to the virtues of pastoral authority, ultimately no form of guardianship has yet been forwarded that is adequate to succeed kingship’s divine authority. In the next section, I show that political arithmetic offers a basis of knowledge by which the virtuosity of management can be judged and, more importantly, with which vicedicting leadership can be made to conjugate with the myths of the body politic.

Pastoralism and Biopolitics in Political Arithmetic

In this section I introduce political arithmetic and show how it was biopolitical and pastoral in its design and deployment. I also show that political arithmetic was deployed at least up to the early 1700s with the specific intention not of conjugating with vicedicting leadership but primarily to keep the landowning class content and thereby stave off the arrival of the Catholic

Pretender James, the most proximate figure of vicedicting leadership.

William Petty and the Politics of Transmutation

The historian Pasquale Pasquino has described William Petty as the man who declared to the Royal Society that the population netted a loss of £69 for every

Englishman who died, and for every Irishman, negro and slave, £15. Pasquino also notes that after serving as a doctor in Cromwell’s army in Ireland during the massacre of 600,000 Irish, and after designing the Down Survey with which the massive redistribution of Irish lands was accomplished to the benefit of English

Protestant (and his personal) interests, Petty conducted a “Political Anatomy of

Ireland” for which he acquired the title of being a founder of economics (Pasquino,

1991, pp. 115-116).

It is to Petty’s ‘political anatomy” that I want to turn now, drawing especially on the work of the historian Ted McCormick who has written extensively on this topic. For Petty, political arithmetic was one part of a two-part discipline of political medicine, the other being political anatomy. With political anatomy the body politic could be articulated in number, weight, and measure

(Petty, 1899, p. lxv), and with political arithmetic actions could be taken on the body politic that would lead to its optimal salubrity.2 Political anatomy referred to a detailed demographic and economic recording of activities, including data on sex, age, religion, occupation, etc. of the population. Political arithmetic referred to the categorization and manipulation of these records for enacting policies.

Petty describes the context in Ireland in which he created his “Political

Anatomy of Ireland” as “unstable” and this is no exaggeration. By 1672, when the

Political Anatomy was published (now dedicated to Charles II), the Irish were experiencing the aftermath of the Irish Confederate Wars which had lasted from

1641 to 1653. The Wars began with an attempt at a coup against the English government in Ireland, led by Phelim O’Neill and a group of fellow Ulster landowners. What followed was a period of pacification in which thousands of

Irish were sent as slaves to the West Indies and the Irish aristocracy experienced a near eradication. Within sixteen years, the Irish were once again at war during a

Jacobite uprising against William III.

To address Irish instability, Petty applies the vast amounts of information that he had recorded to make up the political anatomy. Petty estimates the population of Ireland at 1.1 million, and counts the Catholic Irish at about 800,000 but his anatomy is much more finely calibrated than these population estimates.

According to McCormick, Petty also geographically locates and counts the diet, living conditions, and education of the population, and divisions between conformist and nonconformist Protestants, between Royalists and Cromwellians.

What such demographic knowledge allowed, Petty recognized, was the possibility of altering unfavorable flows in the anatomy for the purpose of engendering stability without having to confront the sources and protagonists in the instability.

In this regard, McCormick highlights a proposal made by Petty that would address Irish instability in such a fashion. Petty’s plan is unreasonably ambitious in its simplicity and no doubt one even Petty surely recognized would be unworkable.3 However, the biopolitical strategy behind the plan is strikingly novel for its time. The proposal was to transpose half of the unmarried women of marriageable age from among the poor Irish population, about 20,000, with equal amounts of poor English women.

One should not imagine that Petty’s proposal was to increase transcultural dialog or to create relations of mutual respect. Such cosmopolitan notions were clearly far from his interests. Petty’s aim was explicitly to accomplish a “Work of natural Transmutation,” by which the Irish would become English. As McCormick writes, “the idea here was to transform the Irish population itself through the structure of the household, the ‘oeconomy of the family” (2006, p. 269). In the household, women “influence the most powerful appetites,” and so if the mothers and mistresses of every poor young family was English, so would their manners, language and religion also be English. Within a matter of years, the transposition would lead to a transmutation of the poor Irish population.

What lay beneath Petty’s scheme, was “the natural appetites of the Irish – appetites common to all men” (T. McCormick, 2006, p. 298). Irish men, like

English men, are naturally susceptible to drives that must be allowed to take their course for Petty’s plan to work. McCormick puts it clearly that “Petty sought to

55 create conditions where natural processes – principally sex – would transform Irish culture. Men are driven to procreate with women, and women have a natural power in the household to produce a family’s culture, language and religion in their image. These natural processes must be allowed to take their course. As

McCormick points out and is readily verified in Petty’s writing, Petty’s favorite slogan is ‘Let Nature work’” (2006, p. 297).

McCormick spotlights Petty’s use of the term “transmutation,” and wonders about whether and how much Petty was influenced by alchemy with its obsession with turning base metal to gold. McCormick writes, ”Just as the alchemist transmuted substances by analyzing their composition and mixing or altering the ratios between different elements, so the political arithmetician transmuted populations by analyzing them into subgroups according to given political criteria, and altering the proportions between these groups, or mixing different kinds of people together” (p. 298). Whether or not Petty was actually influenced by alchemy, Petty’s use of the term transmutation is interesting for three reasons. The first is that Petty’s desire to accomplish a political strategy through the “natural” transmutation of one thing into another expresses a biopolitical rationality. Petty’s political arithmetic expresses a biopolitical rationality in that it is an apparatus deployed to organize a space and develop an integrated circuit for the circulation of knowledge/power (as English customs). Additionally, Petty’s scheme functions on the key point of letting nature take its course recalling Foucault’s point that the

56 biopolitical security apparatus relies on leaving details that have no intrinsic value be, “in order to obtain something that is considered to be pertinent in itself” (ibid.).

The valueless natural course of procreation and women’s domestic authority is left alone to obtain the desired result of transmuting Irish men into English men. A third favorable comparison of Petty’s scheme to biopolitical deployment is that it takes a distant gaze and acts at the fulcrum of the thing’s taking place, surgically transposing precisely those objects that must be transposed for the desired effect.

Foucault describes this as a matter of grasping things “at the level of their nature” or “at the level of their effective reality” (2009, pp. 46-47). Also, Petty’s deployment is biopolitical in that it works with reality, applying analyses to make components of reality work with one another. Petty’s deployment works with reality, but yet has the political force of sovereign judgment.

A second way in which Petty’s perception of his plan as one of transmutation is interesting is that alchemical transmutation was attacked for being either demonic or impossible in that it attempted to take God’s place by being the original cause of a creative activity (T. McCormick, 2006, p. 303). Kings had often employed alchemists in the hopes of attaining this same demonic status.

The “demonic” nature of Petty’s transmutation scheme is that it was conceivably successful if not practically possible. Petty’s scheme showed that political transmutation could be done. Surely, the political force of such power could not have gone unheeded. Here, in political arithmetic, was a means by which political

57 action could be taken that could be at once both demonic and impossible – both incredible and plausibly deniable on the basis of efficient causality.

The third reason is that transmutation has a particular force in that, as we will see below in the case of excise tax, it brought together money and political arithmetic’s capacity for transforming things, making possible the precise alchemical dream of producing wealth at little political cost.4

The final point to be made about Petty’s scheme is that it supplied the single feature that is missing in the discourse on the origin of political authority such as Filmer’s and Harrington’s studied above. Political arithmetic becomes the new leadership by guardianship. Petty’s scheme shows that the body politic is a legible entity. Not only can the body politic be measured with political anatomy, it can be restored to health with political arithmetic. The political anatomy becomes the new surface, the new thin film of legibility of the desiring flows of the political anatomy to be guarded after Scholastic doctrinal guardianship. Whereas Scholastic doctrine applied spiritual knowledge to guard worldly actions, political arithmetic reads the political anatomy to bring it back to health.

The Pastoral Ministry of Excise Taxation by Political Arithmetic and Its Judgment

Seemingly in answer to the concerns made by writers on political authority, political arithmetic turned out to be both a means of deploying pastoral power and a means of judging that power. It is to these two issues that I turn in the remainder

58 of this section. I first closely describe the deployment of a political arithmetic scheme to show its pastoral features, with a description of Davenant’s beer tax. I then turn to Walpole’s attempt at instituting a tobacco tax to show how the guardianship of pastoral ministry by political arithmetic was judged.

One of the main proximate causes of the Revolution was the imposition of taxes such as “ship money” by Charles I for the purpose of waging war. Yet, the

Glorious Revolution by no means ended monarchic calls to publicly fund expensive wars (Brewer, 2002). Under the feudal scheme, landowners were the main sources of the king’s wealth, even though they of course raised these funds by drawing tithes from their vassals. After the Restoration, such taxation of the political class was no longer tenable. Nevertheless, within a year of his coronation,

William was fighting the French and Jacobites in Ireland, and continued to seek funds for war with France over the next decade. What did change was the use of political arithmetic to find the fulcrum point at which taxation would achieve its end of funding monarchs while causing a minimum “destabilization” among the wealthy, politically relevant, voting, landowning population.

This fulcrum point turned out to be the careful selection and deployment of an excise tax on a particular consumer good. Charles Davenant is often credited as successor to William Petty and by all accounts the man who brought political arithmetic into government.5 In 1699, Davenant published an “Essay on the Means of Supplying the War” in which he argued that excise taxation – taxation of certain

“luxury” goods including tobacco, chocolate, salt, and beer – would both be acceptable to a parliament made up of landowners and merchants and still sufficiently fund the King’s wars (Davenant, 1701). Davenant’s essay was the result of years of political anatomical study while working in the state’s excise office.

Davenant explicitly applied political arithmetic to both design excise taxes and to implement them. These taxes’ ability to shift from one commodity to another meant that they afforded some agency to manipulate tax instruments to achieve political aims. Furthermore, they were inherently “centrifugal” in that they pulled into their workings manufacture, exchange relations, bureaucratic encounters, and standardized means of production, forcing that confessional accounts be made of the entire production process. Excise taxes were also precisely about finding the optimal point at which to turn existing practices so as to achieve the desired return.

In a close study of Davenant’s practices for deploying an excise tax on beer,

Miles Ogborn (1998) diagrams the multiscale political geography of excise taxation. By considering the practices and procedures by which excise taxation was effectuated, Ogborn locates the spaces, bureaucracies and productive modes that were made calculable in the process. Ogborn finds that Davenant conducted his analytics at various interlocking scales – from that of the beer barrel to tax districts to circuits of inspection to the English state. Each of these spaces was ordered, scrutinized, hierarchized and routinized.

Routinization of the spaces of regulation did not merely serve a disciplinary role, but primarily served to set norms of pastoral confession and justification in all of those contained in the space regulation. The main purpose of routinization was to create reliable anatomical records for future arithmetic manipulation, and to standardize confessional, pastoral dynamics between the inspector and his interlocutors. For example, Ogborn finds that in his travels along inspection circuits to ensure deployment of a beer tax, Davenant maintained a network of people (including supervisors, tax collectors and brewers), of things (including casks and seal measures), and of documents (such as stock books, brewers’ ledgers and his own diaries). In order for the inspection to proceed the blocks of relations produced by brewer, cask, seal measure, ledger and Davenant himself, for example, had to be carefully routinized into interactions of confession. Additionally, this routinization was not only conducted with the end purpose of disciplining the brewer, the cask, and Davenant himself, but to set norms of behavior and standards of justification of behavior. As long as behavior was standardized and justified to the deployment, the relations of taxation became manipulable. Altering a seal measure, changing log entries, or altering cask standards, even changing the tone of a verbal interaction had to have predictable effects for political arithmetic to be possible. Once political arithmetic was possible, one could look at

Davenant’s anatomical records, for example, and predict how changing a particular feature of the tax deployment would affect production. That the excise tax scheme

61 was biopolitical is demonstrated in the way in which it brought in new elements into its power, standardized pastoral confessional and justificatory practices, and rendered the production process manipulable.

Before closing this section I turn to an attempt by “Prime Minister”6 Robert

Walpole to institute an excise tax on tobacco and wine in 1733 to show how political arithmetic management was judged. Political arithmetic was widely in use by the time Walpole’s rule and Walpole himself regularly applied this technique.

By studying the country’s political anatomy, it had become known that customs taxes at borders were highly inefficient mechanisms. They were rife with corruption, and most of the commodities did not pass through customs at ports in the first place. Excise taxes, with collection spread throughout the country, were significantly more efficient. They were hated by the working class and peasantry, but the gamble for Walpole was that these classes did not matter, or at least not enough. Walpole’s primary aim during his premiership was establishing the

Hanoverian succession from King George I – on other words, to guard the kingship by ensuring the health of the body politic against vicedicting leadership – and for

Walpole this first and foremost meant that the landowning class (which included

Jacobites, Tories, republicans, and other discontents) must remain passive

(Langford, 1975).

Walpole’s tobacco excise tax scheme of 1733 was another example of biopolitical strategy. Walpole had been cutting land taxes since his rise to power,

62 and had accomplished a reduction of land taxes (at the cost of a salt tax which affected the poor) down to 1 shilling in the pound. According to the Walpole historian Paul Langford, the private reason for establishing a new excise tax in 1733 was to completely end the land tax and appease landowners (1975, pp. 34-35). The transmutative force of the excise tax – in its capacity to make of heterogeneous landowners a population loyal to the Hanoverian succession – rendered the tax a biopolitical deployment in that it served to create a supporting population without commanding obedience.

Due to Walpole’s misreading of the anatomy of the body politic, Walpole’s tobacco excise plan ended up in near disaster for the prime minister. Walpole had strategized his political arithmetic with the aim of sustaining the House of

Hanover against a Jacobite threat. What he did not factor into his calculations was that a different vicedicting leadership was looming in the growing and increasingly disaffected working class.7 Landowners, while appreciative of reduced land taxes, were too fearful of the arrival of a Leveler authority to support Walpole, and alarmed that Walpole was in charge of managing the body politic yet unaware of this threat. Not only was the tax defeated, Walpole himself was ridiculed in

Parliament and lampooned in the press even more viciously than usual, and his career as Britain’s first Prime Minister was irredeemably affected by his scheme. A judgment was made against Walpole’s guardianship of the body politic. Through such instruments as excise taxes, and (as I present in the next section) through his

63 management of the South Sea crisis, Walpole had made political arithmetic management the basis of executive authority in post-Revolution Britain. But political arithmetic management is about the manipulation of the desiring flows of production of the population made legible on the thin film of political anatomy, and Walpole had committed the cardinal sin of misreading desire in the body politic.

Walpole’s miscalculation in the case of the excise had been a miscalculation of desire. Desire, expressed in the recorded arithmetic logs of flows of production, population, commerce and customs is what management seeks to give free play, to let be natural, to run free. Management is the desire for flows of desire, only for flows of desire that sing their myths in harmony. Population, that “thick natural phenomenon” (Foucault, 2009, p. 71), proved for Davenant and Walpole irresistibly accessible and available for transmutation in the late seventeenth century, not for its own sake but primarily for the sake of staving off the specific leadership threat of the Pretender. In the next section, I demonstrate that the greatest threats to the body politic that emerge are not from the Pretender but from the commercial connections between labor and power proliferating in the eighteenth century. The conjugation, the integration of vicedicting, enterprising leaderships by political arithmetic management, involved the invention of a new myth of the body politic that crystallized new differential relations and individuated the state as the abstract carrier of the myths of the body politic. It also individuated the new figure

64 of prime minister not as sovereign but as virtuoso manager of the body politic, with Robert Walpole and William Pitt as prime examples.

Biopolitics and the Individuation of Prime Ministerial Authority: Walpole’s

Management of the South Sea Crisis

Management, Desire, and the Spiritualized Urstaat

By way of introducing the problematization of the South Sea crisis, I want to turn briefly to Foucault’s definition of biopolitics in Security, Territory,

Population. I do this to reconsider the relation of biopolitics to the liberal state.

Foucault describes the population as a “thick natural phenomenon” that is constantly accessible to agents and techniques of transformation. The population’s naturalness is the composition of a series of variables, many manipulable, including custom, intensity of commerce, circulation of wealth, and climate.

Foucault adds to this that, if one wants to “achieve the right relation between the population and the state’s resources and possibilities,” then one must act on these variables as factors “that seem far removed from the population itself and its immediate behavior, fecundity, and desire to reproduce” (2009, p. 72). Such action on variables was demonstrated crudely but starkly in Petty’s plan for the transmutation of the population of Ireland.

Foucault continues that the population is given in biopolitics as a collective interest. The population’s desire as a natural, manipulable phenomenon marks the population and makes it “accessible to governmental technique” by giving it a free play by the control of other variables (p. 73). In this biopolitical technology desire,

Foucault reminds us, “is the pursuit of the individual’s interest.” He adds, management of populations on the basis of the naturalness of their desire, and of the spontaneous production of their collective interest by desire, gives us

“something that is completely the opposite of the old ethical-juridical conception of government and the exercise of sovereignty” (ibid.).

I want to take issue with this last claim of “complete opposition” between juridical, monarchic sovereignty and the biopolitical security state, and in its place graft on a Deleuzo-Guattarian reading of the transition from the despotic state to capitalism, particularly as expressed by Jason Read (2008) and Eugene Holland

(2011).

I turn to Victoria Kahn’s critique of Foucault’s union of the two poles of pastoral power and state power in the modern state to get started on this graft. In

“’The Duty to Love’” (1999), Kahn contests Foucault’s claim that the ethical- juridical conception of sovereign government is “completely the opposite” of the biopolitical government. Working through texts by Milton, Gouge and Hobbes,

Kahn finds in their social contract theories a “new conception of natural rights that is inextricable from the motivating power of the passions” (1999, p. 98) In these

66 texts, Kahn finds a discourse on the social contract that constructs a male subject that passionately consents to bind himself. Therefore, Kahn suggests, what differentiates juridical contract theories from biopolitical government cannot be that one is coercive and the other consensual. The image of contract by command on the one hand and government of/by consenting subjects on the other is too stark, and neglects how consent is problematically constitutive of relations of obligation in Hobbes’, Milton’s and Gouge’s contract theory.

Kahn’s depiction of Milton’s The Doctrine and Discipline of Divorce is telling, and perhaps closer to the notion of biopolitical government than Foucault seems to admit. Kahn points out Milton’s distinction between “legitimate compulsion” (a man’s love for his wife) and “illegitimate compulsion” (a man’s compulsive forbidding of divorce). Kahn’s point is that either of these outcomes is possible with pastoral power. Passion, Kahn writes, is the locus of consent but also the locus of coercion, and not simply the beneficent coercion of self-love but also the coercion of self-hatred (p. 93). It is necessary to retain law and legalism even in the pastoral production of the state because both affective states, self-love and self- hatred, can be produced in pastoral power.

Pastoralism’s – more accurately, biopower’s – axiom of “leave alone” applies to productive, blameless nature and self-love, but coercion is complicit in self- hatred and self-cruelty. This is a problem for biopower. The production of subjects involves the outcome, the trap, of producing self-hatred. Kahn points out that

Milton sees this trap unequally, exclusively as a concern for the husband and not the wife. For Milton, the freedom of love is a specifically male freedom. Production by coercion and production by consent are each inequitable and inequitable together. For man, sex is a beneficent production and the compulsion to stay in a marriage without love is a problematic, illegitimate trap. Kahn finds that the tables turn on Milton’s account for women. According to Milton, extramarital sex expresses the existence of an illegitimate trap for men, but is a matter of disobedience to the legal contract of marriage for women. Kahn demonstrates that the inequity of biopolitical deployments is itself the outcome of moral codes. In the case of the marriage contract, the codes together with a pastoral desire to let the man live naturally “makes the wife into a dangerous supplement, at once necessary and superfluous, superfluous but still threatening to the status quo” (p.

94). Law and coercion are complicit in biopolitics, as are love and consent. This is another reason why I cannot accept Michael Dillon’s (2004) suggestion of a spielraum or margin between biopolitics and sovereignty – biopower is not a correlate of sovereignty but the manner in which the sovereign state is individuated (in Dillon’s terms, an idiom of sovereignty).

To understand how law and biopower work together in the production of the state, I want to briefly turn to the transition from monarchic sovereignty to capitalism’s Urstaat. Holland remarks that it is when “capital becomes the dominant apparatus of capture” that the transcendent monarchic state transforms

68 into the biopolitical state (2011, pp. 131-132). Read, using explicitly Marxist terminology, distinguishes a stage at which capital exists but has not yet attained dominance as one of formal subsumption, and the stage after capital’s dominance as that of real subsumption (2008, pp. 149-151). The transformation from the first to the second stage is a moment of “axiomatization,” a process of releasing old laws and making new ones, but doing so in the interest of making specific connections of capital flow that further or enhance the myths of the body politic rather than for the glory of the monarch. The result of axiomatization is, as Deleuze and Guattari write, “differential relations of such a nature as to be filled by surplus value; an absence of exterior limits [to the capitalist state] that is ‘filled’ by the widening of internal limits; and the effusion of anti-production within productions so as to be filled by the absorption of surplus value” (1983, p. 250). Foucault lectures that the call for new laws constitutes the “spontaneous” production of a collective interest.

Deleuze and Guattari describe the state of having a collective interest as a

“spiritualized Urstaat” (Deleuze & Guattari, 1983, p. 225), and further associate this state with a piety, as a state of enchantment in which all forces of labor seem to emanate from Capital as an abstract ur-sovereign.

As Foucault writes, collective interest – the Urstaat with Capital as ur- sovereign – is spontaneous. However, it is also the result of a management that coordinates laws with the biopolitical disposition of things. Furthermore, management itself is not motivated by a capitalist ideology but by an overarching

69 desire to guard the body politic from incompatible, vicedicting leadership. It is in this way that management’s act of conjugating vicedicting leadership with the myths of the body politic involves the invention of a new founding myth and thus the new crystallization of the body politic according to a new biopolitically effectuated Urstaat. Because it is designed to free perverse investments in passionate relations of patronage, the conjugation of management and perverse patronage becomes the motor of capitalism.

In this section and in the one that follows, I present two political arithmetic deployments by management that served to conjugate management of the body politic with perverse patronage, thereby producing biopolitical sovereignty. In both cases, the crystallization of sovereignty individuated a new sovereign myth thereby creating new differential relations in the body politic, and individuated the

Prime Minister as virtuoso manager of the body politic.

The South Sea Crisis and Walpole’s Creation of the State Executive

The South Sea Company was formed in 1711 as a joint-stock company, under the patronage of Robert Harley, the Tory Chancellor of the Exchequer.8 Harley had become Chancellor as a result of the scandal of Queen Anne’s transference of favoritism from Sarah Jennings, wife of the previous Chancellor the Duke of

Marlborough, to Abigail Masham, cousin of Harley. The outcome of the War of

Spanish Succession is said to have turned on this change in the Queen’s court and

70 council, with Harley’s more lenient Anglican outlook favoring a settlement over

Marlborough’s staunch support of the Habsburg claim to the succession. The capital-owning estate had strongly supported Marlborough.

The South Sea Company (SSC) was formed with an interest in ending the monopoly of the Whiggish Bank of England, by providing an alternative source of lending to the Crown. It was directed by John Blunt, the merchant who had first proposed the transformation of his company from sword manufacture to finance.

The Company’s fate was rigidly tied to the settlement of the War and its activities had political salience from the start. The SSC began with an unprecedented £10 million capital and no business other than the administration of a loan (Sperling,

1962). The stock nevertheless sold out quickly, with widespread rumors that it would establish a trade monopoly to four islands in the West Indies and be given management of at least one slave ship, the Asiento.9 As the Utrecht negotiations continued, the Company stock traded evenly at about £100 per share. In 1718, the

Company made a serious but unsuccessful attempt at taking over the East India

Company, the Bank of England, and thereby the whole national debt (Sperling,

1962, p. 5).

The next year, the British Parliament launched a scheme to convert lottery annuities to South Sea Stock. It proved highly profitable, and increased the

Company’s nominal capital by £1.7 million. There followed a contest in Parliament between the Company and the Bank of England for administering the conversion

71 of a staggering £30 million of national debt that was soon won by the Company.

The conversion involved transferring a mix of redeemable stock, as well as irredeemable short- and long-term annuities into Company stock. On the scheme’s public announcement in January 1720, the plan proved a raging success – part of an overall boom in the London stock market – and the Company’s stock price shot up to nearly £1000 in the summer, only to crash down to £150 in September. The directors and others associated with the Company were singled out for rampant corruption, and the speculating frenzy was blamed on stock-jobbers who were said to benefit from the trade. The South Sea Company Crisis was the country’s first full scale national debt crisis.

There has been a considerable amount of revision of the history of the

South Sea Crisis over the past two decades. The historian Julian Hoppit has argued that, contrary to common perceptions, the bursting of the South Sea Bubble was not the result of speculation frenzy, did not lead to a large-scale redistribution of wealth, and did not lead to profound economic dislocation (2002). There has also been considerable revision of Walpole’s role in Britain’s recovery. Whereas the conventional wisdom had been that Walpole’s economic understanding had been reputed to be limited, this view has been disproven by illustrations of Walpole’s astute knowledge and detailed implementation of political arithmetic (Deringer,

2012).

The myth, created in the aftermath of the SSC Crisis and still active today, is that there was an objective overvaluation of the Company stock that ultimately could not be sustained, like a soap bubble whose film is too weak to withstand its surface tension. This myth has remained in our psyche ever since, to the extent that it is hard to conceive a different reason for such “financial” crises. My presentation offers a very different reading of the SSC Crisis. I argue that leadership by creative vicediction in the SSC spurred intense and ardent investment in the form of a perverse patronage. This perverse patronage came to be seen as a threat to the body politic, and a mix of new laws and political arithmetic deployments was instituted to address the threat. In the management of the Crisis, the “bubble myth” was created and has since remained a myth in the composite of the state Urstaat.

The perversity of the SSC patronage relation was that its trade mandate, made by the Company Directorate (which included the Jacobite Henry St. John,

Viscount Bolingbroke), centered on grand plans, plans that were contrary to

Hanoverian and Whig doctrine, to drive trade in Spanish America, plans related to monarchic geopolitics during and following the War of Spanish Succession. The

Company was deeply committed to fighting other European powers in the New

World, and members such as Bolingbroke in its directorate had plans to gain enough power in the British government through victories in America to bring about a reinstatement of Stuart rule. The perversity of the South Sea directorate

73 was that it planned to use growing capital liquidity to bring about the end of

Hanoverian rule and bring back the Stuart monarchy as well as the latter’s predilection for personal, absolute, rule. In 1714, charged with treason after the accession of George I, Bolingbroke joined the Pretender James and from his exile encouraged the Jacobite rising of 1715. When the stock of the South Sea Company, under such Tory direction, soared in 1720, a mere five years after the Jacobite rising, the vicediction of Whig supremacy was too great a threat to the body politic to be allowed to proceed.

Robert Walpole was requested by Parliament to take over from the disgraced John Aislabie as Chancellor of the Exchequer in the faith that he would be able to manage the SSC Crisis. Walpole effectively elevated this position to

Prime Minister over the course of his tenure, but the authority of his position is largely due to his handling of the South Sea Crisis. It is to this that I now turn, focusing on two moments in the crisis, the creation of the perception of an imminent crash before the stock’s crash on the rumor that the South Sea Stock was overvalued and that the Company was corrupt, and Walpole’s dealing with the crisis, including his leniency toward the vilified conspirators and his restructuring of the national debt.

In his dissertation on the antimonies of eighteenth century political economic calculations, William Deringer conducts a detailed study of Archibald

Hutcheson’s role in the Company’s stock crash. A Whig Member of Parliament and

74 pamphleteer, Hutcheson was staunchly committed to checking the monarch’s power with an active parliament. Hutcheson championed institutions of public trust which would establish transparency in political workings and enterprises, thereby staving off secret conspiracies that could materialize into a threat to parliamentary power. What Hutscheson feared, according to Deringer, was “the consolidation of power by ‘designing ministers,’” a fear that could only be abated by frequent parliaments (Deringer, 2012, p. 289). Hutcheson supported parliamentary rule by a landed elite, who should be the beneficiaries of economic decisions (Helen Paul, 2011). Hutcheson was precisely the sort of Whig supporter of parliament who would have found the SSC’s success deeply troubling.

Deringer describes in detail Hutcheson’s application, “with a distinctly politicized eye,” of political arithmetic to determine the value of the South Sea

Company (2012, p. 306). These calculations were published in pamphlets from

March 1720, while the Company stock was still steeply rising. The pamphlets claim to apply political arithmetic to identify the “intrinsic value” of the South Sea

Company as something distinguishable from its share price. What Deringer finds is that Hutcheson builds various models of what the Company’s value could be, isolating certain factors and allowing them to remain uncertain. Deringer detects a political motivation in the factors for which Hutcheson chooses to provide a guess and those he chooses to leave uncertain, the latter including the stock price and

Company choices regarding annuities. Of course, it would have been scandalous if

75 the Company were to be found to control stock price. Hutcheson then showed that there was a discrepancy in the “intrinsic value” of the Company and the price at which it was trading. In his pamphlets, he demanded that people would want to locate the profits needed to justify the value. Deringer argues that Hutcheson’s goal was entirely political, adding that Hutcheson was acting on prior knowledge of the advocates’ corrupt attempts to encourage the stock’s climb. Hutcheson’s goal was to make the directors of the South Sea Company publicly confess their reasoning for justifying the high stock price, a goal that was achieved when buyers began to doubt the Company and parliamentary investigations proceeded.10 Like the political arithmetists Davenant and Petty before him, Hutcheson thought of society as a human body, a body politic whose health depended on the sound pastoral care of property-owning men (H. Paul, 2010; Helen Paul, 2011).

What is particularly interesting in Deringer’s account is the charge that

Hutcheson made a calculated move to discredit the Company while the stock was still soaring. This account inverts the common story of the Bubble in which the immorality of the agents precedes the stock’s fall. Derringer, on the other hand, wants to highlight that the intrinsic value of the Company outside of its stock price was metastable, unknowable at any moment and only fixed in the past.

During the Crisis, prompting an investigation into SSC dealings had the moral imperative for Hutcheson of staving off the imminent materialization of the cabal of secretive, designing ministers with a plan to bring about the return of

Stuart rule. Deringer quotes Hutcheson as having as his highest political priority

“to unite the minds of an unhappily divided people,” a concern that would have been immaterial in a country that was not already beset with the fear of arbitrary rule (2012, p. 287). Hutcheson’s quote uncovers an early instance of governmentality, the desire to defend a society from its own enterprising propensity to falsify itself.

Walpole entered office as Chancellor of the Exchequer on a mandate to respond to the South Sea Crisis. By this time a group of individuals, including

Company directors, had been singled out and made to confess themselves as leaders in the corruption. Another group, of professional stockjobbers who came from the City’s lettered, laboring class, had also been singled out and calls were made for making their work illegal. Both of these very public punitive measures were problematic. The singling of company advocates raised the specter of a Tory-

Jacobite uprising. The singling of the stockjobbers raised the possibility of an organized Leveler revolt. Battle lines were being drawn. Propensities such as

Hutcheson’s to uncover all secrets had set in place a confrontation between those who would support the Company – along with, perhaps, those who knew that the

Company had done nothing worse than the East India Company or the Bank of

England – and those who demanded that heads roll.

It well known that Walpole was complicit in advocating extreme leniency for the conspirators and in assuring the quiet emigration of the Company’s

77 bookkeeper (Carswell, 1960; Helen Paul, 2011). In addition to this, Walpole established an elaborate scheme by applying political arithmetic to the problem of restructuring the national debt. Deringer writes that “[t]hroughout his engagement with the South Sea Scheme and its aftermath, Walpole’s political reasoning was guided by financial models.” Deringer diagrams Walpole’s calculations from archived documents and suggests three “controlled variables”

(2012, p. 365) These include selecting who should benefit from amended stock prices and thereby receive a refund, who should be made to pay for stocks ordered but not purchased, and whether the government should forgive fees that the

Company still had outstanding to the government. Other variables that were less controllable included the amount collectable from the estates of Company’s directors and the amount recoverable from outstanding debts to the Company.

Walpole had access to detailed records of the relevant parties in the scheme, including the mostly landowning stockholders of older, pre-conversion stock, those who had purchased during the conversion scheme at a high price, and those who borrowed money to pay for the stock during the booming months of the scheme.

These categorizations were thoroughly imbricated with the biopolitical inequities Kahn found in Milton’s writing. Older stock and annuities belonged to landowning families whose natural desires should be allowed to play out. Stock paid for by debt and high price annuities would have been purchased by people

78 labeled as having a propensity to irrationally speculate. Much like Hutcheson’s counterfactual models for finding the “intrinsic value” of the Company, Deringer finds that Walpole’s calculations imply an interest in setting the initial conditions for a natural dynamic which would lead to the distribution of South Sea Stock and recompense that heavily favored the landowning estate. Hutcheson’s desires for societal unity and the health of the body politic would be met, but not by confronting the threat directly.

As it turns out, this interest is precisely what came to be. Company associates were collectively made to pay a modest £300,000. Those who had paid by borrowing were made to pay 10% of their purchase, and this “leniency” was only put into law in 1727. The Whiggish Bank of England was made to purchase four million of Company stock, guaranteeing a rise in the stock value and an increase of credit. By far the greatest beneficiaries were the landowning owners of old stock, and their benefit came at the price of a loss to annuitants who had been “reckless” enough to purchase under the scheme. Brisco explains that this transpired by the government first “forgiving” £2 million owed to the government in fees, but then restoring the full fee two years later. With this restoration, annuities were now once more in the hands of the Company and worth the market value of its stock.

However, with the reinstatement of the £2 million, the Company was given the right to issue stock at its initial-offering par or face value, which was much higher than its market value. The Company profited by reclaiming the debt to annuitants,

79 at a loss to those annuitants. The profit earned in this transaction was then shared among the original stockholders as a surplus (Brisco, 1907, pp. 55-56).

Through Walpole’s political arithmetic, the following outcomes were obtained. The scheme annuitants and those who borrowed to purchase stock were tainted as speculators. Those “speculators” did not profit from their participation in the scheme. The original owners did well on their investments. The original

Company directors were treated extremely leniently but also quietly removed from their place at the helm of the Company. The Company directorship was made to include more Whigs. The Company was positioned to secure a good but unremarkable profit over the next several years. Laws were passed to reduce

Company stock trading, and therefore “speculative” ownership. It is only when causations are inferred between these sentences that a moral story evolves.

However, each of these outcomes was the result of the “putting into place” of initial conditions such that the outcomes would be reached by “nature taking its course.”

The moralistic image that did develop from the South Sea crisis mattered. It had the effect of giving to the population a collective will, a “spiritualized Urstaat” that combined codes about reckless speculation amongst the laboring class, the patriarchal stabilizing force of the landowning class, and the unity of the landowning class at least in their shared interest for prudent acquisitiveness. The myth of the “polite and commercial” British had taken its first form. However, all

80 this had been done for the purpose of securing Walpole’s primary desire of guaranteeing the Hanoverian succession in the face of Tory conspiracies such as

Bolingbroke’s and Company directors’ to take over the national debt at the expense of unfavorable terms at Utrecht – conspiracies conducted with a private desire, for the vicediction of the Hanoverian succession.

Just as important, in the heyday of the Bubble another threat had emerged in the form of an acquisitive working class who had purchased stock in the

Company and widely in various investments, and those “stock-jobbers” who had traded shares. Daniel Defoe feared that this trading stock could “make gentlemen out of rakes.” Hutcheson feared that the political and moral leadership of the landed elites was put into jeopardy by being tricked by their inferiors (Helen Paul,

2011, p. 4). The 1734 Barnard Act banned the buying and selling of stock not already owned by the investor, its justification directed precisely to stock-jobbers whose illegitimate activities pulled them out of “their assigned place in society” and into terrains where they could be a “threat to the settled order” (Helen Paul, 2011, p. 7).

If the original investors are like Milton’s husband whose natural desires should be allowed to take their course, then stock-jobbers stand in the place of Milton’s wife, the dangerous but superfluous subject of law.

Walpole’s apotheosis was accomplished by political arithmetic management carefully calibrated to reproduce desirable myths of the body politic and to turn an emergent vicedicting leadership into a morality tale against speculation and a

81 myth of a prudent, conservative laboring class. Between the actions of Walpole and figures like Hutcheson, landowning elites discriminately experience the enchantment of high returns on their investments together with a story of their return being well-deserved. Tory conspirators with possible Jacobite leanings – key

Company directors – experience a different fate, but one that is given the appearance of an act of nature even in the face of extreme leniency by the government. The British West Indies from then on are associated with unfortunate and corrupt plans, and given a reduced stature relative to the North American and

Indian colonies. In this response, networks of biopolitical transmutations connect to create a milieu in which certain estates seem to naturally attain the dues they are worthy. This story provides a thin and partial image of a non-arbitrary sovereignty, temporarily allaying fears of political instability. Walpole’s political arithmetic management is a sort of distant ventriloquism, expressing the virtuosity of knowing how to dispose of things so as to set them on their rightful, “natural” course.

A pattern reveals itself in the management of the South Sea Crisis which is repeated in the East India Company Crisis presented in the next section and also found in the previous cases of the excise tax schemes. In this pattern, activities proceed as follows:

1. A political anatomy of productive relations and preponderances is

recorded and continuously updated, the result of ongoing, detailed,

multiscale surveillance and routinized relations of confession

2. Points of intensity develop in which capital-labor relations are perverted

and politicized as a threatening vicedicting leadership. These relations

become the real target of policy

 South Sea Company example: South Sea Company patronage

relations

3. Leaders undergo a ritual of being singled out and made to confess their

activities, and are vilified but ultimately never directly attacked or

coerced in state’s name

 The SSC directors and select others affiliated with the Company

4. Alternative aims are stated to rationalize manipulation

 Hutcheson claims a need to know the Company’s “intrinsic value”

and Walpole claims a need to restructure the national debt

5. The response strategy addressing the stated aims involves applying

knowledge of political anatomy to set up the initial conditions of

seemingly politically neutral new laws and manipulations of productive

relations. Once these initial conditions are set up, “nature” is left to take

its course

 The national debt restructuring scheme including the example of

the Company’s retaking of £2 million in government debt; laws

about stock-jobbing; laws about the Company

The outcomes of the biopolitical response are as follows:

. The threatening vicedicting leadership is made visible, personalized and

singled out, and vilified

. The threatening, perverse, qualified relations of patronage are released

to the healthy pursuit of profit and normatively redirected to facilitate

in the production of a correct disposition of things

. A normative story of causation (a new myth of the body politic) coupled

with “naturally” achieved outcomes creates a renewed enchantment of

the spiritualized Urstaat.

o All but those who are subjects only of laws become enchanted to

varying degrees

o The liberal state is re-individuated, produced anew, and is given a

fresh sense of stability

Biopolitics and Prime Ministerial Authority: Pitt’s Management of the East India

Crisis

The Perverse Intensity of Company Rule in India

In this section, I demonstrate that the pattern of events found in the South

Sea crisis is repeated and amplified in the East India crisis. The East India crisis centers on the East India Company’s problematic sovereign status in India, a status that was broadly acknowledged and discussed in the day.11 1757, the year of the

Battle of Plassey, is conventionally said to mark a sea change in the balance of power in India during a time of general upheaval, as Mughal deputies and administrators vied with one another for territory after the splintering of the

Mughal Empire. Elite officers in the East India Company (EIC) held shifting allegiances to local nawabs, who themselves held shifting allegiances to French traders. The EIC, which had begun as a militant trading mission, took off into all- out claims to territorial sovereignty directed by its officers. In India, these officers found themselves in a land that had not existed in Britain since its feudal age, one in which they could seek their glory. A strong and intense patronage relation developed by the time of Plassey. Once recruited and in India these officers became fully absorbed into Indian politics, taking the EIC in directions unintended by the metropole.

These EIC officers’ biographies speak to a life that is at odds with counterpart depictions of EIC’s capital interests in London.12 Robert Clive began his career as a bookkeeper in Madras. Within two years Clive was in the EIC army, fighting French militant trading interests. Three years on in 1749, Clive is a lieutenant, driving an expedition in the Second Carnatic War. In 1751, at the age of twenty-five, Clive led an army of two thousand in an entirely self-designed attack of the Nawab of Carnatic’s forces. In 1757, Clive’s famous victory in the Battle of

Plassey is the result not of fighting but of a secret alliance with Mir Jafar the court attendant who conducted a successful coup against the Nawab of Bengal. Jafar left a small fortune to Clive on his death, but Jafar’s son and successor turned against the EIC and refused to collect taxes on their behalf. The EIC responded to this defection with a military attack, resulting in thousands of deaths in the day-long

Battle of Buxar. The EIC won the battle, and as a result of negotiations between

Clive and the Mughal emperor the taxation rights to all land in Bengal were wrested by the EIC from the Mughals. With this accomplishment, land taxes immediately become the main revenue source of the EIC by far. Clive’s biography in India is certainly atypical for EIC officers. Even so, the opportunity for a life more Romantic than liberal-rational was possible in India but no longer in Britain.

In any case, it is in the context of Clive’s conquests that a crisis develops around the EIC.

The East India crisis does not readily submit to causal explanations. There was a general anxiety that was close to hysteria about the EIC conquests in India, and about the returning officers with their strange manners, dress, customs and ostentatious wealth. The returned EIC officers came to be seen as threatening figures in Britain, liable to take over parliament by buying seats. What is evident is that the hybrid, foreign, nature of the EIC enterprise became a national threat soon after the conquest of Bengal. Starting in the 1760s, as recently wealthy

“nabobs” began returning from India, fears began to be expressed of transformations to the “customs, manners, and principles” of the British constitution (Nechtman, 2007, p. 72). These concerns grew and took on greater urgency. Soon after his return to England, Robert Clive was called before parliament to answer questions about corruption, mistreatment of Indians in the

Company-held provinces, and about disorderly administration resulting in financial losses. Clive did not live to experience the worst of the attacks, committing suicide in 1774. In fact, the EIC, despite the loss of the American tea market with the Revolutionary War, had been trading with positive balance of payments (Cuenca-Esteban, 2007). Yet, the crisis grew and eventually took two dominant forms. The first is the trial of the Governor-General of Bengal, Warren

Hastings, and the second is the restructuring of the East India Company with the

East India Act of 1784 and the Commutation Act of the same year.

Understanding the crisis necessitates learning something of the nature of

Clive’s and other officers’ relations with Indians, and how these officers saw their role in India. Addressing the issue of transculturalism, William Dalrymple writes that “it was almost as common for Westerners to take on the customs, and even the religions, of India, as the reverse” and describes a multicultural fecundity in

Company life and a confusion of rival modes of living (2005). Having an Indian wife was not uncommon in the eighteenth century, with estimates as high as one in three among Company officials resident in India(Dalrymple, 2005, pp. 449-450).

Durba Ghosh has researched the role of gender, sex and race in the construction of society in the “Company State.” Ghosh finds that while officers often cohabitated with Indian women, these bibis could but did not always receive full social standing in Company India on the merit of their husbands. Such standing was sought to a greater extent by minor bureaucrats in the Company than the husbands of Company elites who were much more concerned about the status of their offspring (Ghosh, 2006).

On the important question of how British officers viewed their role in India,

Nirad Chaudhuri’s biography of Clive attributes the Company’s conquests as faits accompli motivated by Clive’s “irrepressible urge of self-assertion” (Chaudhuri,

1975). Similarly, Jonathan Nichol gives an account of the “sub-imperialism” of the

EC officers who protected their private fortunes by engaging in the politics of

Bengal (Nichol, 1976). More recently, David Veevers has argued that EIC officials

88 held a profit motivated, patriarchal authority over their provinces (2013). Robert

Travers juxtaposes a “necessary intimacy” alongside an early process of imperial

“othering” in the sense of Edward Said’s Orientalism (2005). Travers argues that, on the one hand, British tropes of Asiatic despotism intensified into a binary opposition through which the officers came to see their role as the defenders of liberty and property in the face of Mughal despotism, giving their sovereign mission in India the urgency of reform. On the other hand, according to Travers, in their day-to-day tasks the officers became intimately aware of the organic nativity of the Mughal rule and nuanced despotism into legitimate and illegitimate behavior. Lauren Benton (2002), Douglas Peers (2007), and Sudipta Sen (2002) propose that the Company State was hybrid, malleable and inextricable tied to

Mughal forms of rule, giving rise to a global sensibility and authority.

In all of these works, the view that EIC policies were driven by a British mercantilist ideology is discounted and the interest is in unearthing the EIC’s contingent forms of government in India driven by complex relations of production. The exact nature of those relations of production remains debated, but what is clear is that productivity in India under Company Rule was not dictated by capital interests in the metropole. A perverse capital-labor patronage relation, one in which Company funding was dictated by the intense desires of

Company officers who could demand funds for their desired pursuits, only intensified with Clive’s victories. What is also clear is that this resulted in such a

89 profound unease in Britain that it became the central concern of government. EIC leadership was vicedicting on multiple counts – it unsettled the British sense of state sovereignty, it displaced the centrality of England in its colonial trade relations, it problematized India’s geopolitical distance, and it sullied notions of colonial interests as disinterested investments.

Just as the directors of the South Sea Company had to be made to confess,

Governor Warren Hastings became the object of intense inquiry on his return to

Britain. The offensive in Hasting’s public sanction was led by Edmund Burke, who had been dissatisfied with the Regulating Act of 1773, an early attempt to limit EIC power in India. Burke had helped draft the Fox India Bill in 1783, which tried to directly impose a government supervisory board over the EIC. Following these parliamentary attempts to gain control of the Company, Burke’s offensive turned to Governor Hastings who was put on trial in 1788 for corruption and mismanagement. Two years earlier, in his opening speech of Hasting’s impeachment hearings, Burke had charged that the EIC was no longer a mere company but a “State in disguise of a Merchant, a great public office in disguise of a Countinghouse” (quoted in Murray, 2007, p. 56). The trial, a social spectacle to the end, eventually led to an acquittal of Hastings after lasting seven years. The trial has been the subject of considerable scholarly scrutiny, including a study by

Nicholas Dirks which sees Burke’s pursuit of Hastings as a means of whitewashing

Empire, and thereby transferring a scandal that had been perpetrated by a private entity, the EIC, into a public disgrace (Dirks, 2006).

Pitt’s Response: The India Act and the Commutation Act

As with Walpole, William Pitt the Younger gained the office of Prime

Minister in the midst of a crisis. In 1783, the Coalition government of Charles Fox and Frederick North had attempted to pass an India Bill that had met with King

George III’s extreme displeasure. The King, interested in regaining personal rule, saw the Bill as an attempt at parliamentary takeover of the Company’s finances.

The Fox-North Bill was defeated, the Fox-North ministry was dismissed, and

William Pitt rose to the Prime Minister. As for Walpole, Pitt’s first business was to address the national crisis he had inherited.

As in Hastings’ trial, the stated reason for the crisis – the reason given for the necessity of urgent response – was that the EIC had been corrupt, mismanaged and was running into fiscal difficulties. However, Pitt knew from observing what had occurred to the Fox-North Bill, that any attempt to take over the finances of the Company would be defeated. Pitt’s approach to the problem was two-pronged.

With his India Bill, Pitt would address the issue of the political and military government of India. With his Commutation Bill, he would address the fiscal problem. Once again, it has been established that no fiscal problem existed independently of the crisis.13

I show below that Pitt’s actions follow the pattern of Walpole’s restructuring of the national debt, and had the outcome of defusing the Company’s perverse capital-labor relations (its vicedicting leadership), and of giving the

British body politic a new myth that prepared it for the state’s imperial century.

With the India Act, passed in 1784, Pitt directly confronted the question of who rules India. Pitt’s first action was to work directly with the two Company interests, the India interest made up of “nabobs” (the term given to returning

Company officers) such as Hastings and their patrons, and the City interest made up of investors in the Company and in its shipping (Philips, 1940). Through connections in banking which importantly included John Baring, Pitt was able to influence the 1784 annual election of Company directors. Once the new

Directorate was in place, Pitt starkly laid down the government’s demands. Pitt clearly had the upper hand in these negotiations. The EIC had always been dependent on Britain’s naval power and as well aware it would not be able to maintain Company rule without Britain’s help. Now, with the effective rule of

Bengal, the Company was more reliant on Britain than ever before.

Pitt’s demands included that a government appointed board superintend all

EIC activities related to civil and military government and land revenue. The EIC directors would retain control of patronage and commercial administration, as well as the appointment of Governor General, governors, and commanders in

India. The directors attempted to negotiate, but Pitt privately made it clear that

92 this was not a matter for negotiation and no such concessions were made (Philips,

1940, p. 31). Pitt’s India Bill entered parliament on the terms previously shown to the directors. The charge was made that Pitt’s claim to leave the Company’s commerce and finances was “absurd” because of the interdependencies of government and trade in India, but Pitt was resolute in promoting his bill as the result of negotiation and as a means of only taking over the mismanaged governance of India – to which Britain as the EIC’s patron state could rightfully claim – while leaving the Company intact (Philips, 1940, pp. 33-34). The India Bill passed in 1784, on terms satisfactory to the King’s desire that EIC finances be left alone.

In the same year, parliament passed another, much less discussed act pertaining to the Company, this time in consultation with the merchant capitalist

Richard Twining. The Commutation Act has been the focus of extended research by Hoh-Cheung and Lorna Mui, and my account below relies on their outstanding studies.14 What I seek to show is that whereas the India Act effectively coerced the

EIC’s India and Company interests into giving up a claim to sovereignty in India, the Commutation Act was a biopolitical deployment of political arithmetic for the purpose of ending the threat of creative vicediction.

To understand how significant the threat remained even after government oversight of the EIC, the extent to which British society was distressed by the EIC’s conquests in India and the nabob culture it exported to Britain should not be

93 underestimated. The fortunes of the returning nabobs – who mostly went out as middle class professionals – were vast, often in the tens of thousands of pounds and sometimes much more. Due to widespread corruption in the parliamentary system, nabob wealth meant that they could and did enter parliament in sizable numbers, though not anywhere near enough to have a lasting effect on its constitution. Peter J. Marshall has written that the nabob fear extended beyond the social and political, and posed a threat to the moral underpinning of British society

(2003). Linda Colley has applied Benedict Anderson’s “imagined communities” terminology to argue that the making of the Briton occurred in opposition to a nabob threat (2005). The figure of the alien and threatening nabob entered culture in satire, in articles and cartoons, and in literature. The threat was strongly felt.

Pitt’s project was not simply to end EIC sovereignty in India, but to extinguish the threat it posed in Britain.

That the Commutation Act was more than a piece of legislation becomes evident once the relations that it put into effect, and the manner in which it applied political arithmetic are uncovered.15 The stated aim of the Act was to assist

EIC finances by ensuring its monopoly of tea trade from China.16 This was to be accomplished by reducing the import tax on tea from 119% to 12.5% ad valorem.

With such a drastic reduction in taxes, tea smugglers would face stiff competition from “legitimate” EIC imports, and Britain’s present dependence on imports from other European countries would end. The decreased tax was anticipated to highly

94 increase tea consumption, and it did. The Commutation Act had precisely the effect that Pitt publicly stated he did not want the India Act to have: It completely overhauled EIC sources of revenue. With land revenue now firmly in the hands of the British government, tea became a prime commodity in EIC trade, and by 1790s, the EIC conducted 77% of all tea trade from China, effectively giving the Company close to a world monopoly on the commodity.

Three aspects of the conduct of the tea trade presented in Mui and Mui’s studies show how the Commutation Act defused its intense labor-capital relations and transmuted the Company from an India-based officer directed enterprise to one directed by capital interests in London. Firstly, the Act stipulated that tea be sold at auction in London, and that the Company maintain a one year supply in

London warehouses. This stipulation gave the tea dealers in London control over profits. The dealers could and did act as a body, effectively setting the price of tea while avoiding the bulk of costs for its storage.

The second aspect is that the assortment and quality of the tea trade came to be determined in London. For example, on the dictate of the tea dealers, the EIC increased their importation of the “congou” variety of tea by 497% from 1.3 million pounds to 7.8 million pounds in the decade between 1783 and 1793. Furthermore, the quality of tea also came to be dictated in London. This included strict regulations in shipment, such as the standardization of specially designed boring holes to be used by inspectors. The dictate of “highest quality” meant that tea

95 brokers were trained in London on the assortment and refined distinctions in quality. These brokers were then sent to Canton to instruct EIC merchants on what product to purchase, and thus dictating production and setting quality standards at the point of manufacture according to tastes determined in London.

Since The EIC had a stronghold on worldwide tea purchase, manufacture customized to London standards effectively standardized tea production for all parts of the world.

Finally, the huge domestic market was also centralized in London, disallowing any possibility that the EIC could sell in multiple venues. Again, the

EIC could only sell at an auction room in London. There were only around one hundred “capital dealers” in Britain with stocks of over 1000 lbs, and most of these were located in London. Stockists outside of London had to pay a higher brokerage fee and excise tax than London dealers. By consolidating the domestic market in

London, the criteria of demand were determined by interests concentrated in a small network of elites.

If one was not aware of the detailed and multiscale political arithmetical calculations that were available to Pitt and his network of dealers and capital interests, it might seem fantastical to claim orchestration between the two bills that passed parliament in 1784, and between those bills and the capillaries of production relations that stretched out halfway across the world. Yet the consistency of deployment, of manipulating conditions and then letting “nature”

96 set off on its own course is virtually palpable in the stipulations of each of the two acts, the relations of productions that were in place, and the outcome that ensued.

As in the South Sea crisis, the East India case began with the sense of crisis itself rather than with some discernible cause. As with the South Sea crisis, in the East

India crisis leaders were pointed out, made to undergo a ritual of confession and vilified, but were not exclusively coerced by the government. Once again, the alternative aim, this time of correcting mismanagement and addressing a phantom fiscal shortfall, were stated as reasons for manipulation. Once again, initial conditions were set up using recorded knowledge and a network of capital interests so as to attain the hidden, unsaid outcome of conjugating the vicedicting leadership (the East India Company’s Indian governance) with myths of the body politic (myths of Britishness and the myth that British trade relations are directed by British commercial interests).

The Legacy of Pitt’s Management Virtuosity: A Britain Ready for Its Imperial

Century

It would be difficult to overstate how deeply and broadly Pitt’s virtuosity of management of the East India crisis influenced world politics in the nineteenth century. Still, there is one way by which to arrive at some measure of the impact of

Pitt’s management. Consider, one more time, how relations were redirected and made to radiate out from a center at London. Keeping Mui and Mui’s enlightening

97 research in mind, but now moving beyond capital-labor relations of production, one can inquire into whose desire was made into the natural, rightful course of things. Who came out of the episode fully enchanted by the naturalness by which their desires were attained, momentarily immune to the modern dread of theologically indifferent rule? Who came out as the dangerous, superfluous subject of laws and coercions? Certainly, those affected extended far beyond the British coastlines. No longer were the British made to feel the threat of the vicedicting, hybrid, nabob. A new spiritualized urstaat came into effect with Pitt’s management of the East India crisis. By coercion and consent, it transmuted the population of Britain and radiated East, putting a correct disposition onto conquered things.

1 Foucault focuses on Guillaume de La Perriere’s 1555 Le Miroir Politique and on Francois de La Mothe Le Vayer’s 1653 L’OEconomique du Prince. Foucault also mentions Thomas Elyot’s English The Boke Named the Governour, first published in 1531 (Foucault, 2009, lecture 4 of 1 Feb., 1978, especially pp. 90-100). Foucault’s ambiguity with respect to the English birth of biopolitics is further evidenced by his acknowledgement in Birth of Biopolitics that Locke’s is not a theory of state but one of government (2010, p. 91). 2 For more on Petty’s “scale of salubrity” see McCormick (2013). 3 Although it would seem that the evidence – related manuscripts of calculations – would suggest the contrary. See McCormick (2006). 4 Wennerlind makes the related argument that credit-money may be a successor to the alchemical tradition. See Wennerlind (2003). 5 Among others, see Hoppit (2006); Hoppit (1996); Desmedt (2005). 6 Prime Minister was a derogatory term at the time, used mostly by pamphleteers critical of Walpole’s administration. Still, by present standards, there is little doubt that Walpole deserved the title. 7 E.P. Thompson (1971) provides specific examples of how this threat to landowners materialized. 8 There are several historical accounts of the South Sea Company, including the three from which I draw, Carswell (1960); Dickson (1993/1967); Sperling (1962). 9 In fact, the Company accomplished short but intense periods of slave trade in the Asiento and reputedly more profitable non-slave trade at two West Indies ports. 10 Dickson (1993/1967) demonstrates that searching criticism outside parliament and investigations inside parliament began very early in the year. 11 For contemporary arguments of EIC sovereignty, see Poole (2013). Although the EIC claimed sovereignty beginning in the seventeenth century, this claim was initially based on James’ delegation of sovereignty to the Company in distant India. This delegated sovereignty shifted into a more independent one in the eighteenth century as it started pursuing its policies of large-scale territorial expansion. 12 Biographies of Robert Clive include Arbuthnot (1899); Chaudhuri, (1977); Harvey (1998). 13 Cuenca-Esteban (2007) finds that the EIC was not only current on its balance of payments at the time, but was also positively contributing to Britain’s balance of payments. 14 In particular, I draw from Mui and Mui (1963) and secondarily from Mui and Mui (1961). 15 Hoppit (1996) explicitly argues that Pitt’s calculations would have involved political arithmetic. 16 The tea would be exchanged for opium produced in India. This exchange would provide the source of the later Opium Wars.

Chapter 3: Foucault and Weber on Leadership in the Genesis of Authority

The previous chapter showed how after the fall of monarchic sovereignty guardianship of the body politic took on the form of political arithmetic deployments strategically deployed to undermine vicedicting leaderships that unsettled the customs and differential relations of the body politic. Although these strategies of undermining vicedicting leadership were intentional, the effect of reconfiguring the British state toward liberal and imperial functions of dynamic

(re)founding and remaking of its identity was unintended. In the process of guarding against leadership that was seen to unsettle the social differentiations of the body politic, not only did those social relations irrevocably change but the social relations of interest expanded across the globe and far beyond Britain’s territory, and a transformation took place from an English trading state whose political interests were dominated by European theologico-territorial disputes to an empire defined by its preoccupation with populations. The present chapter begins this dissertation’s central concern with reconceiving sovereignty with a sensitivity to the role of leadership, as exhibited in Britain’s transformation from monarchic to biopolitical sovereignty.

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This is the first of two chapters in which I locate leadership in the context of practices of subject formation, as a process distinct from leadership in the commonsense context of already individuated subjects. My focus in this chapter is on leadership in Foucault’s “practices of the self,” practices of self-creation of the subject in relation to truth, and particularly on Foucault’s notion of “parrhesia” or bold speech. I make my approach to the question of the Foucaultian concept of leadership by way of Max Weber’s concept of charisma, and propose several affinities between Foucault’s parrhesia and Weber’s charisma. I then turn to the social concerns with which each of these thinkers approached leadership. For

Weber, the problem with the state in capitalism is that it does not alone have an ability to instill value into modern life. To address this, Weber offers plebiscatory and party politics as means through which charisma could transform a society’s hearts and minds. I argue that in a move parallel to Weber’s, for Foucault parrhesia is a means by which the subject can act at the intersection of power and knowledge, and by which totalizing and individualizing power can be confronted.

For both Weber and Foucault, there seems to be a felt absence of leadership in the present age. However, the similarities between the two thinkers reveal their underlying difference at this point, and I argue that Foucault’s project of uncovering parrhesia runs counter to Weber’s hopes for charisma.

This chapter is presented in three sections. The first section looks for similarities between Weber’s and Foucault’s respective concepts of charisma and

101 parrhesia. My effort soon runs into the problem that the two concepts are not only similar but exhibit an overabundance of identities. The second section takes a different tack by moving from an assumption of similarity to inquire into the source of their difference. In brief, the difference between the two concepts rests on differences between Weber’s and Foucault’s concern with, borrowing Colin

Gordon’s term (1987), “the soul of the citizen.” In the third section I demonstrate that whereas Weber looks pessimistically yet hopefully to a professionalized society for a capacity to charismatically add value amidst regimented rationality, and thus create a citizenship adequate to the challenge of disenchantment in modernity, Foucault’s work is marked by an “unwillingness to take the side of society against the state” (Gordon, 1987, p. 263) since society itself is the product of disciplinary and biopolitical deployments within pastoral power. From a

Foucaultian perspective, the problem with Weber’s intellectual project does not subsist in the concept of charisma or the notion of introducing leadership into relations, but in its aim to use state institutions to carry out a disciplinary project.

Foucault looks to parrhesia as a mode of leadership that guides the self-creation of the subject within fields of power and knowledge as a force capable of confronting society.

I juxtapose several of the authors’ key terms throughout the chapter, including Weber’s Lebensführung (the conduct of life) with Foucault’s la conduite de la conduite (the conduct of conduct), Weber’s “rationalization” with Foucault’s

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“governmentality”, Weber’s “personality” with Foucault’s “aesthetics of the self”, and of course Weber’s charisma with Foucault’s parrhesia. A secondary proposition presented in this chapter is that Weber’s call for charismatic plebiscitarian leadership to free us from the iron cage of modern capitalist rationality, exemplifies, in the Foucaultian mode of genealogical analysis, a broader tendency to problematize leadership in our age that is ripe for interrogation. I argue that leadership has today been constituted as a problem, and genealogy can recover its analytics, its process of problematization.

Weber’s Charisma and Foucault’s Parrhesia: A Comparison

In this section, I directly compare the relevant concepts, charisma and parrhesia, that held such central place in the mature writings of Weber and

Foucault respectively. Charisma thoroughly contaminates Weber’s sociology with a transformation potential, and parrhesia is important in Foucault’s work for being the single “technique of the self” he considers in his search for the “roots” of the

Western critical tradition in philosophy (2001a, p. 170). My intention here is to locate differences and affinities in these two concepts. Whereas Foucault’s parrhesia is quite a new topic of study1 even among Foucaultians – although it has motivated a very recent proliferation of essays2 – Weber’s work on charisma may feel to the reader like overly familiar, well-trodden ground. It is in part for this

103 reason that I begin by reading charisma afresh, directly from Weber’s magnum opus Economy and Society, before considering the writings of any of the numerous investigators of his work.

Charisma in Weber’s Economy and Society

According to Weber, domination can be both legitimate and illegitimate in the eyes of the dominated. Weber conceives three ideal types – rational authority, traditional authority, and charismatic authority – upon which claims to legitimate domination are based. He describes charismatic authority as having five features.

Firstly, one makes claim to the legitimacy of charismatic domination by virtue of a characteristic “devotion to the exceptional sanctity, heroism or exemplary character” of a person and the order disclosed or created by the person (1922, p.

124; 1978a, p. 215). This entails two further characteristics, the first being that obedience in charismatic domination is personally owed to the leader, while it is owed to the person of the chief in traditional domination and owed to a legally established impersonal order in rational domination. Additionally, the scope of charismatic domination is limited according to those revelations and exemplary qualities in which the follower has faith. Contrast this with the scope of legal- rational authority which extends according to the authority of the office within the legal-rational order, and that of traditional authority which extends over the domain of accustomed obligations. Charismatic authority is distinctive in that its

104 domain is both infinitely divisible and infinitely variable according to the nature of the charismatic relation, while tradition and legal-rationalism are bounded by the nature of their domains. The particular nature of the charismatic relation, its

“charismatic qualification,” is infinitely divisible (the charismatic relation may pertain only to one aspect of a person’s life, and a charismatic relation may involve more than one charismatic leader) and infinitely variable (1978a, p. 243).

As an ideal type, charismatic authority is characterized by individual leadership on the basis of divine or exemplary qualities that are not, in their locale, considered accessible to the ordinary person (Max Weber, 1978a, p. 242). These qualities have, in so-called primitive societies, taken the form of magic, prophecy, therapy, legal wisdom, and leadership in the hunt and in war. Weber provides further examples of charisma as diverse as the manic passion of the berserk, the

Mormon followership of Joseph Smith, the demagogic reputation of the Socialist

Bavarian revolutionary Kurt Eisner, and Germanic kingship in late Antiquity, all deemed charismatic by virtue of judgment in the charismatic community.

Charismatic leadership cannot be representative because the latter’s basis for validity is the representative’s assumption of characteristics already possessed by delegates while in charisma devotion results from introducing something outside the followers’ nature.

A second feature of the charismatic relation is that devotion is exhibited in followers’ sense of calling, the effect of the leader’s investment of arousal in

105 followers felt as distress, excitement or hope. However, if this hope seems permanently suspended, if the marvel of ardent desire is never consummated, then the charismatic authority may wane (M. Weber, 1922, p. 140). For Weber, this essential vulnerability of the charismatic relation is the “genuine” pre-modern meaning of the divine right of kings. That is, divine right describes both a kingly prerogative to act decisively and an affliction in that charismatic authority enervates when a king appears deserted by his gods and his leadership fails to benefit his followers (1978a, p. 242). Weber’s reading of divine right explains the preponderance of the medieval figure of the king of fools in theater up until today

(Amoore & Hall, 2013; Bakhtin, 1984; Welsford, 1968; Williams, 1979). This king of derision also appears in Foucault’s comparison of the king of men and the Cynic philosopher philosopher-king, and we will return to this shortly (Foucault, 2011a, pp. 273-287).

Thirdly, unlike evental revolutionary relations which seem to happen all at once, Weber’s charismatic leadership can extend over time. When charismatic leadership is extended, a charismatic community develops that is comprised of disciples to a prophet, a trustis to a warlord, and generally of agents to a leader.3

Disciples, and this is the fourth characteristic, are not passive followers of charisma but those called on their “charismatic qualifications” – that particular basis of their sense of calling from among infinite possible bases, which need not be the same even among agents of one leader – who together constitute a

106 community “based on an emotional form of a communal relationship” (p. 243).

There are no appointments, benefices, dismissals, experts, careers or promotions in charismatic communities, no hierarchies, “but only a sense of calling aroused by the leaders, on the basis of the charismatic qualification of those who feel called”

(M. Weber, 1922, p. 141; my translation).4 Relations within the charismatic community are communistic and provided for by voluntary gifts. In the charismatic community’s sharp opposition to bureaucratic or traditional authority, there are no abstract legal principles or rational-legal systems of government, instead “formally concrete judgments are newly created from case to case and are originally regarded as divine judgments and revelations” (p. 243). Similarly, economic considerations are foreign to the charismatic community, where charismatic relation constitutes a spiritual duty. It is not so much that the community does not seek wealth, particularly as a display of authority, but more that the calculation of wealth and poverty is repugnant to leader and disciple.

“What is despised,” Weber writes, “is traditional or rational everyday economizing, the attainment of a regular income by continuous economic activity devoted to this end… charismatic want satisfaction is a typical anti-economic force” (pp. 244-

245).

A fifth characteristic is that Weber presents charisma as the “great” revolutionary force in traditionalist societies, a force that is eclipsed in the “iron cage” of capitalist modernity where the equally revolutionary force of legal-

107 rationality does not work internally, as a transformation from the inside that engenders a complete reorientation of engagements in all forms of life, but by the power of ratio through intellectualization or “by changing the conditions and problems of life and thus, indirectly our engagements with these” (M. Weber, 1922, p. 142).

In summary, as an ideal type charisma is a personal sense of the presence of extraordinary qualities in another person and in this leader’s revelations about the order of their world. This sense is accompanied by a feeling of being called by, and of devotion to, the leader. Devotion here is a passionate commitment, and is infinitely variable and divisible and even revocable on the part of those called. The substance and quality of devotion describes an individual’s charismatic qualification. When charisma is extended over time, a charismatic community of a trustis forms itself and is characterized by the following: its constitution by individuals with charismatic qualifications; emotional communality; an absence of hierarchy and office; anti-economy; and purely substantive and improvised justice.

Lastly, the charismatic relation was the great revolutionary force of traditional society that has been eclipsed in modernity.

Parrhesia in Foucault’s Late Lectures

In his last lectures, Foucault characterizes his critical work according to the three themes of analysis of forms of governmentality, the history of modes of

108 objectification of the subject in knowledge disciplines, and the history of the “care of oneself”, the last of which occurs “at the intersection” of the first two (Foucault,

1997b, p. 88). The study of care of the self occurs at a point of intersection in that, firstly, a history of the care of the self would be a history of subjectivity that includes relations with oneself and transformations in these relations with new practices and effects of technologies of the self. Secondly, it would also be a history of governmentality, but now of “the government of oneself by oneself in its articulations with relations with others” (p. 88). Care for the self describes the techniques by which subjects construct relationships to self and, in doing so, direct themselves, others and their worlds.

For Foucault, the ancient Greek practice of care for the self here was not a

“spontaneous attitude, a natural movement of subjectivity” but something that occurred in relation to a recognized other, a master, who calls upon and instructs the listener to correct care of self and so induces positive construction in the listener. By contrast, early Christianity also involved a transpersonal care for the self but here the Christian teacher in monastic and confessional traditions directs instruction toward sacrificial renunciation (Gros, 2008, p. 378). Care for the self in

Greek and Roman antiquity takes on a particular political sense (Foucault, 2011a, p.

8). It involves the free-spokenness, or parrhesia, of instructors who, through cultivation, learning and their own practices of care for the self, possess the courage of truth to call upon, to direct, others to correct their care for the self.

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Parrhesia, it becomes clear, occurs by the modes of being entailed by a concern for, and by participation in discourses on, truth.5 Foucault’s offers the following description in this regard:

[Parrhesia is] a rich, ambiguous, and difficult notion, particularly insofar as it designates a

virtue, a quality (some people have parrēsia and others do not); a duty (one must really be

able to demonstrate parrēsia, especially in certain cases and situations); and a technique, a

process (some people know how to use parrēsia and others do not). And this virtue, duty,

and technique must characterize, among other things and above all, the man who is

responsible for directing others, particularly for directing them in their effort, their attempt

to constitute an appropriate relationship to themselves. (Foucault, 2011b, p. 43)

Foucault tells us that parrhesia is a personal quality, a technique, and a duty of one who is responsible for directing others in their relationship to self.

In Foucault’s last lectures,6 one finds six currents of pre-Christian thought regarding parrhesia, each of which distinctively conceives the problem for the subject in relation to truth, and so provide distinct techniques by which parrhesia is practiced. These currents roughly correspond to (1) Greek democratic thought

(Euripides and Isocrates) about the right of the citizen to speak his mind regarding the affairs of his city, (2) Platonic parrhesia that validates truth-telling as the defining principle of guiding the Prince’s government of the politeia in which democracy must be carefully excluded and (3) “Socratic” conceptions in Plato’s work with emphasis on Socrates’ courage to approach Athenian citizens and

110 parrhesiastically offer advice, acting like a father or elder brother, (4) Cynic thought, mostly of Diogenes, in which Cynic courage is Socratic parrhesia made into a “stylistics of existence”, (5) Greek and Roman Stoicism (Epictetus, Seneca,

Marcus Aurelius, and Musonius Rufus), and (6) the Roman work of Plutarch and

Galen.

Foucault does not use a methodology of ideal types like Weber, but does delineate common elements in these quite diverse currents of parrhesia. These are that in all the currents parrhesia is characterized by frankness, truth, danger, criticism, and duty. Another common element is the condition of ethical differentiation, the differential placement of oneself in the position of teacher, as one that possesses something in one’s own existence that one feels must be cultivated in others. Ethical differentiation is the single central and new theme in the final course Foucault gave in Paris.

I briefly describe the first (democratic) and third (Socratic) conceptions

Foucault presents below. I follow this with a focused review of the fifth (Cynic) conception. My intention is to draw points of affinity between Cynic parrhesia and charisma.

In the Greek democratic current, one’s city – its government, its institutions

– is the object of parrhesia, and a person only has the privilege of parrhesia to the extent that he is a first citizen. Parrhesia is conceived here in a positive role, and is respectful of the city by seeking to improve its laws and understandings of truth.

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However, over time parrhesia takes on a second meaning in the Greek democratic city as a dangerous practice that must be exercised within limits and with caution

(Foucault, 2011a, pp. 36-52). The “crisis” seen with respect to parrhesia is not dissimilar to the “crisis” of leadership in contemporary political thought on democracy, for example, in the leadership studies of Thomas Wren (2007). The problem is that in democracy one cannot distinguish between discourse which speaks the truth and is useful to the city and discourse which “utters lies, flatters, and is harmful” (p. 40). This is because the only differentiation permitted in the democratic city is a “quantitative” one that distinguishes between the masses and the few, which coincides with the distinction between the worst and the best, and between what is bad and good for the city. No other differentiation is permitted in the democratic city. So parrhesia as truth-telling cannot have its place in the democratic game “inasmuch as democracy is unable to recognize and cannot make room for the ethical division on the basis of which, and only on the basis of which, truth-telling is possible” (Foucault, 2011a, p. 44).

Plato’s depiction of Socrates, particularly in his Laches, illustrates Foucault’s third current of parrhesia. Here the emphasis is on Socrates’ courage to approach

Athenian citizens and offer advice, acting like a father or elder brother. This is a face-to-face interpersonal form of parrhesia, expressed as the result of a mission to watch over and care for others’ souls, to ensure that they attend to themselves.

Here the focus of parrhesia is neither the city nor the prince’s soul, but the

112 relationship between the rational individual and “truth founded on the very being of his soul” (p. 86). This aesthetic, rather than political, form of parrhesia acts “on the very axis” of ethics by harmonizing life with reason. It presents both equality and ethical differentiation at once. On the one hand, Socrates approaches others as equals in that he too lives under the mastery of the autocratic logos. On the other hand, Socrates must, in taking care of himself, put “himself in the hands of the missing teacher (the logos),” while formally rejecting the teaching role. In this dual role, Socrates “is the one who guides others on the way of the logos” (p. 152).

Foucault presents Cynic courage as Socratic parrhesia made into a “stylistics of existence” (p. 165). Whereas Socrates’ courageously approaches the Athenian citizenry as an elder truth-teller, with Cynicism this approach is heightened, unmediated by the presumption of equality, and emboldened “to the point that it becomes an intolerable nuisance.” The Cynic takes the aesthetics of Socratic parrhesia to the point of scandal. Yet the scandal remains a scandal of truth that now strips existence bare, and finds its modern descendants in revolutionism

(Foucault mentions Russian nihilism, European and American anarchism, and contemporary terrorism) and also in art (Baudelaire, Bacon, Burroughs, Manet). In extending Socrates’ parrhesia, Cynic parrhesia takes life as testimony of truth, as that which produces truth (as nonconcealment, purity, conformity to nature and sovereignty) in the form of the Cynic’s own life (p. 218). If Socrates met Athenians as equals, with the mission of philosophically guiding others in the way of logos to

113 another world, the Cynic, with his Delphic mandate to “deface the currency,” met

Athenians as an embodiment of philosophy with the egalitarian task of showing by his own life how their lives are false and that the true life is “other than the life led by men in general and philosophers in particular” (p. 244). This, for Foucault, begins the two great themes of Western philosophy, both found in Kant. The first of these is the question of the other world, and the second that of an other life.

The Cynics, Foucault tells us, by their striving for true life, make possible the thought of another world.

Charisma and parrhesia are similar for both introducing the extra-ordinary into quotidian life. Both describe an unequal relation between at least two individuals in which one speaks or otherwise presents something extra-ordinary.

For Foucault, the qualifying criterion for being extraordinary is presentation of a dangerous truth, while for Weber it is an exceptionally heroic, exemplary or sacred act or form of life. On closer examination one important difference appears, without knowledge of which it would be difficult to continue an adequate comparison. While Foucault is presenting a story about the introduction of the extraordinary into the social fabric from the point of view of the introducer, a story about the parrhesiast’s sharing of Anschauung, Weber gives the reader the disciple’s point of view. This, together with the fact that Foucault is explicitly talking about truth-telling in Greek and Roman antiquity while Weber highlights a pre-modern reception of the extraordinary that existed in the Middle Ages, reveals

114 key differences between the two authors’ depictions, inciting questions about what would result if we were to bring these two concepts into relation with one another.

I return to this issue at the end of this chapter.

By the end of his final lectures at the Collège de France, it becomes clear that Foucault’s concern with parrhesia revolves around the fifth current of parrhesia found in Diogenes and the “Cynic Sect” (Foucault, 2001a, p. 115). A closer study of this Cynic current of parrhesia reveals other affinities between Foucault’s and Weber’s concepts. For Foucault, revelations attributed to Diogenes about truth in the world are central to the Cynic sect, and so, for example, when Foucault describes the basic principles of Cynic practice, every one of them is based on an aphorism, anecdote, saying, or experience in the life of Diogenes (pp. 238-239).

Although the sect flourished hundreds of years after Diogenes’ death, Foucault notes the personal relationship between Cynic practice and its founder. The most important of these is the Cynic motto to “falsify the currency” (where “currency” can also be taken as social standards and practices). This motto is attributed to one of a few legends about Diogenes’ life according to which Diogenes was a money changer who falsified the money, or that Diogenes, upon asking the oracle at

Delphi how he could become famous, was told to “alter the currency.” The practice of falsifying the currency and other Cynic practices are presented in a life experience of either Diogenes himself or of one or another of his early “disciples”

(Monimus, Crates) (p. 240).

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This gives a second point of affinity, in addition to the first point that both introduce the extra-ordinary. This second point of affinity, now specifically between Cynic parrhesia and charisma, is a strong sense of calling, a sense acutely felt in Foucault’s discussion of Cynic poverty and militancy. Foucault offers three features of Cynic poverty (pp. 257-259). For Foucault, describes Cynic poverty as

Weber would an active calling in that it is not just a matter of acceptance of poverty but conducted for the sake of achieving courage. Foucault adds that this drive to poverty is incapable of being satisfied. The calling for Cynics was to actively live a true life by taking their poverty to the point of dishonor so as to

“train the Cynic in resistance to everything to do with opinions, beliefs, and conventions” (p. 261). For Foucault the Cynic life of poverty as an unconcealed shamelessness, purity, sovereignty and animality is more than a mission, it is a missionary battle reminiscent of Weber’s berserk battle, comprised of a militant dedication to poverty, but also of interventionary care of others as an aggressive benefaction (pp. 278-279). “The Cynics,” Foucault says, “frequently apply these qualities to themselves, this description of their own mission as a battle ... comparing themselves to soldiers of an army who have to mount guard or confront enemies and engage in physical combat” (p. 279). However it is a missionary battle of a distinct kind, because the struggle is both internal, against the Cynic’s own desires, as well as against the “customs, conventions, institutions, laws, and a whole condition of humanity” (p. 280).

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A third point of affinity is found in similarities between Weber’s discussion of the charismatic trustis or community and Foucault’s depiction of the Cynic sect.

The sect is clearly anti-economic, but this is part of Cynic doctrine and so not necessarily supportive of my argument. However, two other features of Weber’s charismatic trustis are found in Foucault’s depiction of the Cynic sect. First, as with the trustis Foucault clearly states that the Cynic sect opposes social organization and hierarchy: “The Cynics are opposed to divine and human laws, and to all forms of tradition or social organization” (p. 198). Furthermore, the

Cynic cult, as with the charismatic communal form, follows a substantive and improvised justice that opposes traditional and rational authority. Foucault writes that the Cynic sect practiced a “traditionality of existence” which, rather than following doctrinal teaching, passed on anecdotes and in doing so made use “not so much of a theoretical, dogmatic teaching as above all models, stories, anecdotes, and examples.

These examples, anecdotes, and stories may be attributed to precise historical figures, or

founding fathers—like Crates and Diogenes … The traditionality of Cynic teaching, which

was conveyed through models of behavior, frameworks of attitudes, took the form of brief

anecdotes called khreiai, which reported in a few words a gesture, a retort, or an attitude of

a Cynic in a given situation; or of longer stories, apomnemoneumata (memories), in which

a whole episode of the Cynic life was recounted; and also jokes and anecdotes, which were

called paigna, and which provoked laughter (paizei) and were sorts of comical, ironical

khreiai. (p. 208)

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This passage by Foucault remarkably shows a fourth affinity in the substantive, informal nature of justice within the Cynic community, working by an improvisational bricolage of legends from Cynic lives. Here we see that the traditionality Foucault sees is entirely about the lives of cherished founders, and stands opposed to Weber’s traditional authority. Foucault is explicit about this.

Whereas doctrinal tradition “enables a meaning to be maintained or retained beyond forgetfulness” so as to be applied in present circumstances, Cynicism’s traditionality of existence “enables the strength of conduct to be restored beyond moral enfeeblement” (p. 209). That is, whereas the former seeks to maintain and retain meaning, the latter recalls elements and episodes of leaders’ lives so as to give life once again to those episodes. In giving anecdotes of cherished leaders a new life, the Cynic finds a new calling to strengthen conduct and restore morality in the present life.

As with the charismatic community, the Cynic sect exhibits a sense of the presence of the extraordinary qualities of personalities whose lives continue to guide, lead, the sect; a sense of calling and devotion to the lives of its leaders; a passionate commitment that imbues the sense of calling with a militancy; an absence of tradition and office; and a substantive and improvisational sense of justice. Although I am comparing Foucault’s parrhesiastic life of the Cynic with the

118 ideal type of charisma – which, according to Weber is a “utopia” that does not exist in history – still the affinities are striking and compelling.

But the identity does not stop here. The passage quoted above continues, and Foucault makes the claim that “through this [Cynicism’s] traditionality of existence we see emerging—and this is very clear in the Cynics, much more than in any other form of philosophy, much more even than in Epicureanism or

Stoicism—that figure, which is so important, of the philosophical hero” (p. 209, my italics). This figure, the philosophical hero, rests chronologically between the sage and the Christian holy man, between archaic tradition and the last centuries of

Antiquity, and is the “essence of philosophical heroism” in its “most general, rudimentary, and also demanding aspect” (p. 210). “Philosophical heroism,”

Foucault adds, “the philosophical life as heroic life, was something put in place and handed down by this Cynic tradition” (ibid.).

Foucault is plainly saying here that the Cynic sect is not only made up of followers of a hero who appears to be a charismatic hero, but, on top of this, that the Western tradition of philosophical heroism is itself born with the Cynic tradition. In setting out to study the possibility of similarity between charisma and parrhesia, what seems to have been obtained is identities, with the added condition that parrhesia is the charismatic form of the Western philosophical tradition. One could say that, in Cynic fashion, identity has been driven to identity’s dishonor, and lurched into a claim of priority and origination. To better

119 understand how this has come about, I compare Foucault’s and Weber’s oeuvres in the next section.

Before ending this comparison, a fifth, important point of affinity between charisma and parrhesia must be pointed out. In the quote below, As charisma, for

Weber, was eclipsed in modernity, Foucault declares parrhesia to have all but disappeared by the nineteenth century, except in the revolutionary life. Other than pointing out that Foucault makes reference in it to Weber’s hero, Goethe, the passage in which Foucault says this is below and needs no further explanation.

Obviously, this history of philosophy as ethics and heroism would come to a halt when, as

you know, philosophy became a teaching profession, that is to say, at the beginning of the

nineteenth century … [This is] also the moment when the legend of the philosophical life

receives its highest and last literary expression. This is, of course, Goethe’s Faust … When

philosophy becomes a teaching profession, the philosophical life disappears. Unless we

want to recommence this history of the philosophical life, of philosophical heroism, in

exactly the same period, but in a completely different, displaced form. Philosophical

heroism, philosophical ethics will no longer find a place in the practice of philosophy as a

teaching profession, but in that other, displaced and transformed form of philosophical life

in the political field: the revolutionary life. Exit Faust, and enter the revolutionary. (p. 211)

Foucault and Weber on the Divine Right of Kings

The theme of monarchy’s fragility is common to both Foucault’s and

Weber’s conception of monarchy. As I have shown above, for Weber this was expressed as the meaning of divine right in the concept of the “divine right of 120 kings.” Whereas this is generally understood to mean a right for kings to do anything, as if they are godly, because their rule is derived directly from God,

Weber offers a quite different meaning. Weber distinguishes divine right from other rights by giving it a dependence on the King’s ability to provide heil,

“health,” to his following (Myers & Wolfram, 1982, p. 4). If fortune has turned on the king and his people no longer feel they are in the presence of his charism, then his charismatic authority is liable to wither. When this occurs, the worst fate befalls the king who now becomes the king of derision.

This very figure of the king of derision is present in Foucault’s reading of

Cynic parrhesia, in a passage where he discusses a legendary meeting between

Diogenes and Alexander of Macedon. The meeting is depicted in the story as a meeting of kings. While for Stoics the philosopher ought to be king, the Cynics narrative of this meeting goes beyond the constraint of “ought” to directly declare that Diogenes is king. The Cynic philosopher is an anti-king who exposes the precarity of monarchy. The Cynic’s kingship is not vulnerable precisely because it is not divine. Foucault tells us that there are four ways in which the Cynic is an anti-king (pp. 276-277). First, whereas kings must depend on other things (guards, allies, armor, etc.), Cynic anti-kings need do nothing more than exercise their sovereignty. Second, while the king must be cultivated into a monarch, the sage’s soul is already fully endowed with greatness and virility. Third, the king’s fragility is eternal as long as he battles his enemies but does not wage the fundamental

121 battle with his own faults and vices in the way of the Cynic. Fourth, while the king of men is eternally exposed to a reversal of fortune, the Cynic king is king by nature and so king forever. More than this, the Cynic king is already the king of derision, and in fact becomes king through a scandalous dedication to poverty (pp.

278-279). The Cynic king’s gift, this king’s charism, is a harsh medication administered in the form of aggressive benefaction that cannot be taken away.

Whereas Alexander momentarily possesses the divine right of kings, the Cynic’s kingship is solid and eternal.

Here we see the major distinction between Weber’s charisma and

Foucault’s parrhesia. Whereas Weber’s charisma includes kings whose divine right makes them vulnerable to losing their charisma, the Cynic king has no such fear.

Weber writes that charisma exists as the only type of authority that carries the force to transform people from within, and Foucault appears to be in agreement that this is so. However, Foucault’s divergence from Weber’s conceptualization is in Foucault’s stress on parrhesiastic leadership as a vicedicting leadership. While the king’s charisma, which may come from glory in battle, is vulnerable to turning into derision with the king’s next defeat, the philosopher’s parrhesia, which may appear in harangues and unwanted admonishments, may be born of scandal and a fundamental battle with the self, is distinctly endowed with its own virility and invulnerable to misfortune. It is invulnerable to derision because it is already derisory. It is derisory in that the parrhesiast’s life is a militant life against false

122 customs. If the charismatic king battles for his own health and that of the community, the parrhesiast battles for self and others against conventions. The

Cynic practices poverty against the custom of exalting wealth, displays a bare body against the custom of clothing, and intervenes into the lives of passersby giving them unsolicited advice on caring for themselves against customs of politeness.

Most importantly of all, the Cynic falsifies the currency against the flows of circulation of wealth and debt that the Alexandrian currency entails. Vicediction of myth is the calling of the parrhesiast, a calling not to guard conventions but a call to arms against convention. Foucault lectures that the Cynic military battle is

a battle against customs, conventions, institutions, laws, and a whole condition of

humanity. It is a battle against vices, but these are not the individual’s vices. They are vices

which afflict humankind as a whole, the vices of men which take shape, rely upon, or are at

the root of their customs, ways of doing things, laws, political organizations, or social

conventions. The Cynic battle is therefore not simply that military or athletic battle by

which the individual ensures self-mastery and thereby benefits others. The Cynic battle is

an explicit, intentional, and constant aggression directed at humanity in general, at

humanity in its real life, and whose horizon or objective is to change its moral attitude (its

ethos) but, at the same time and thereby, its customs, conventions, and ways of living.

(Foucault, 2011a, p. 280)

Parrhesia is a battle to destroy myths that give rise to customs, whereas charisma allows for – and sometimes centers on – the production of myths. This is the decisive difference between charisma and parrhesia. 123

Comparing the Oeuvres of Foucault and Weber

This accord and discord between Weber and Foucault on the issue of charisma – supposedly the prime exemplar of the sort of personalized conception of human relations that Foucault devoted his career to efface – demands explanation. How could Foucault, after decades of demonstrating that the subject is the outcome of modes of veridiction in psychiatry, sexuality, and criminology, that are imbricated in power relations, posit subject formation as self-constitution?

And, how could Foucault do so in a manner that is in such close parallel to

Weber’s notion of charismatic leadership? I present their oeuvres below to show that congruencies between the two authors go beyond the concepts of charisma and parrhesia to shared concerns about modern forms of Menschentum and governmental subjectivity, although these concepts remain essential to each author’s overall focus of study and to their relation with one another. Let me be clear at the outset that my intention is not at all to make a case that some kind of break or turn can be found in Foucault’s later work. To the contrary, I believe that there are principles that pull together, if not unify, his body of work. What I demonstrate below can be thought of as taking in a different direction Mathew

Sharpe’s argument that Foucault’s reading of Kant demands that Kant’s Critique of

Pure Reason itself be reread (Sharpe, 2005). My argument is that Weber’s concept of charisma be reread in light of Foucault’s parrhesia, with an awareness of

124 precisely how their two bodies of work, Foucault’s and Weber’s, diverge from one another.

Although Weber is understood in highly sophisticated terms by Weberians, his general reputation in the United States remains linked to methodological individualism, a particular reading of value-free social science, and a tragic story of an evolutionary and universalist rationality. If asked what the central thematic of

Weber is, an American scholar – familiar with Weber’s Protestant Ethic and the

Spirit of Capitalism, his essays on politics and science as vocations, and perhaps some extracts from Economy and Society – might say that Weber’s main concern was with the evolution of rationalism and with sociological methodology. Indeed, if one reads these works, the concern with Weber’s central question is only likely to heighten. The diverse interests expressed in single essays, let alone the various themes of his many, often fragmented, writings, may well leave one to wonder what motivated Weber’s interests and, more than this, what, in fundamental ways,

Weber is trying to say. Part of the problem is with the various, partially successful, translations of his work but the question of central thematic is also pertinent to

Weber’s German-speaking audience.

Part of the reason for this discourse over Weber’s writing is that Weber’s work does pose some difficulties. It is characterized by a sparkling clarity that obscures irony and play in the positions he presents, features that combine to form subtly composed demands to rethink conventions and even his own arguments.7 It

125 also presents a seemingly drastic shift in focus – from the Protestant ethic to the sociology of religion in his last writing before his death – that is not unlike

Foucault’s “trip to Greece.”

In a spirited article responding to a claim that Weber’s central thematic is the universal, inexorable, rationalization of life, Wilhelm Hennis addresses the question of Weber’s oeuvre by directing readers to Weber’s use of the key word

Lebensführung in the following quote by Max Weber: “It is the spirit of a

'methodical' Lebensführung which should be 'derived' from 'asceticism' in its

Protestant transformation and which stands in a cultural-historical relation of

'adequacy-equivalence' (Adaquanz) which is in my opinion very important”

(Hennis, 1988a, p. 142). In other words, the explanation Weber himself provides for writing Protestant Ethic is to “derive” the spirit of a Lebensführung (the particular conduct or leadership of life specific to capitalism) from Protestant asceticism.

Weber’s interest is not to derive a general rationality, whatever that may be, but to give account for the rise of an “ethical Lebensstil,”8 a stylization of life, that is

“spiritually adequate to the economic stage of capitalism” and which “signifies its triumph in the ‘souls’ of men” (quoted in Hennis, 1988a, p. 143). The Lebensführung of Weber’s interest comes with a Habitus that cannot be generalized away, and displays a characteristic tension between vocation, life and ethics whose effect is this manhood, this particular kind of rationalized manhood, Menschentum.

Hennis’s point is that Weber’s central theme is not the process of rationalization in

126 toto, but the development of the specificity of Menschentum whose Lebensführung is the object of his investigation.9

Hennis’s depiction shows an affinity in the oeuvres of Weber and Foucault.

Compare the pair of terms Lebensführung (the conduct, literally leadership, of life) with Foucault’s la conduite de la conduite. Foucault introduces us to the phrase

“conduct” in discussions of medieval Christian pastoral power, which involves a

“highly specific form of conducting men” having to do with the “conduct of souls”

(Foucault, 2007, pp. 193-194). That is, pastoral power conducts the conduct10 of individuals by way of conducting their souls. This form of power is reawakened, according to Foucault, and central to the rise of governmentality. Like

Lebensführung, the conduct of conduct is about the government,11 the self- and other-leadership of life, and like Lebensführung, conduct of conduct in pastoral power has produced a specific governmentality which we understand and treat as natural and that is central to political economy (Foucault, 2010, p. 15). For both

Weber and Foucault, the Menschentum produced in capitalism – that is the subject of capitalist calculation – is precisely not a universal, general, rationalized subject.

In a thorough but ultimately flawed study of the Weber’s and Foucault’s oeuvres, David Owen successfully finds the heart of the matter, which is that

Weber and Foucault share two essential influences in Kant and Nietzsche. It would be fair to say that the “origin” of the question that drives both their studies is

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Kant’s presentation of life as a philosophical problem in his “What is

Enlightenment?” Owen’s contribution is his detailed study of how one can trace, from Kant to Nietzsche, Weber, and Foucault trajectories of the critique of modernity, but the problem with Owen’s depiction is that it is too linear with each successor solving prior problems. His is not the first time either Weber’s or

Foucault’s work has been linked to Nietzsche,12 but it is one of a few book-length studies devoted to applying their common influences to link Weber and Foucault to one another.13

For Owen, Nietzsche’s great contribution is his stance against Hegel’s position that maturity is “self-actualization,” the realization of one’s own authentic being, and Nietzsche’s own interpretation of maturity as “self-overcoming, as the ongoing process of becoming what one is” (Owen, 1994, p. 3). Nietzsche offers the method of genealogy for evaluating values in this ongoing process in history, and finds that modern culture is characterized by a fundamental ambivalence due to an absence of any grounds for evaluation that would enable the exercise of autonomy. Nietzsche offers, as an alternative ground, an aesthetics of time by posing the moment as the threshold at which all future and all past extends. The experience of time as such is the eternal recurrence of the experience of the self- generating value of existence. In Owen’s work we clearly see the importance

Nietzsche’s übermensch for Weber and Foucault. To the extent that eternal recurrence is culturally substantiated, individuals with autonomy for self-

128 legislation (Nietzsche’s übermensch) will rise up and reintroduce value to the modern world. Weber and Foucault share an interest in refining Nietzsche’s notion of eternal return, by investigating what culturally substantiating the eternal return would entail, and by historically seeking out modes of being that substantiate (or at least in their contexts, approximate) Nietzsche’s übermensch.

Both Weber and Foucault refine and reproduce Nietzsche’s immanent critique of Kant and reconsider the problem of grounds for value in modernity.

The paradox of Weber’s Menschentum, is that its distinctive capacity for achieving an inner distance for autonomy accompanies a disenchantment that leaves it bereft of the ground of values that would give meaning to human action. Weber’s hope out of this lay in the ethical cultivation of the self that results from individuals and communities endowed with charisma, the ability to substantiate the eternal return and reintroduce value to the modern world. It is here that one can find the shared concern of Foucault and Weber. Weber and Foucault respectively see Menschentum and governmentality as the product of pastoral power that has been displaced from its religious origins. This rise of

Menschentum/governmentality, as both clearly recognize, occurs with the rise of capitalism after the capital-labor encounter, in Marxist terms of real subsumption after formal subsumption, and in Deleuzian terms – as I present in Chapter 5 – of the Urstaat after capital.

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Different Lives: Leadership and the Human Condition in Foucault and Weber

One may be tempted to seek comfort in the thought that charisma is precisely what Foucault is not interested in, and that parrhesia should not be confused with charisma. I have already shown that parrhesia and charisma share too many features to characterize Foucault’s relation to Weber so easily. I further critique such a response below, by arguing that Weber’s plebiscitarianism is not a simple outgrowth from his concept of charisma. Following this, I close this chapter by presenting an alternative reading of the lively tension between Weber’s and

Foucault’s oeuvres.

My argument against any ready dismissal of charisma as an individualist insertion of authority is simply that, as we have seen, the charismatic relation is not constitutive in the sense of making up relations of hierarchy, and so plebiscitarian leadership cannot be a “natural’ outgrowth of charisma. Charisma is destined to be fleeting and at most create a charismatic community which is a strictly limited communistic community that itself knows no hierarchy. Although for Weber a charismatic community of trustis can form over time, this community constitutes nothing, no central demand, no meaningful identity, no offices, no hierarchy, no bureaucracy, no formal laws. Any notion of a statewide, legislating charisma cannot be about charisma itself. Certainly, the charismatic leader is a legitimate authority, but this authority in itself, in the absence of charismatic

130 qualifications or what Foucault calls ethical differentiation, is not constitutive.

What, then, does charismatic authority do? It instills charismatic qualifications in others, where charismatic qualification describes particular conditions of calling from among the infinitely divisible and variable ways by which disciples may feel called.

The problem with Weber’s charismatic plebiscitarian politician argument is that it slips in characteristics of the plebiscitarian politician as charismatic characteristics that do not correspond to Weber’s own depiction of charisma.14 In particular the plebiscitarian politician must have an ethic of responsibility to meet the demands of the day in one’s vocation, and a sense of distance to mediate between ultimate values and daily demands. Certainly, Weber affirms these qualities in his “Politics as a Vocation,” but the problem is that there is no reason to believe (and every reason not to believe) that Weber was describing charisma when he affirmed an ethic of responsibility. As we have seen the charismatic relation is entirely opposed to something like an ethic of responsibility which

“takes account of precisely the average deficiencies of people,” does not presuppose their “goodness and perfection” to do the right thing, and acts in terms of an economy of consequences (Max Weber, 1994). Arguments against charisma on the basis of a political stance against plebiscitarian authoritarianism recreate the plebiscitarian politician as a fully charismatic personality, and base their critique of the charismatic personality on a novel construction of the charismatic.

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The problem is that by Weber’s own descriptions a charismatic relation is to a great extent at odds with hierarchical, office-holding plebiscitarian leadership, and

Weber is forced to modify charisma to accommodate a plebiscitarian stance.

Charisma cannot be itself criticized for being authoritarian and plebiscitarian. The argument against Weber’s politics on the basis of charisma itself does not hold, but there is a much more interesting problem in Weber’s work, which is brought up below.

Foucault, Governmentalities, and the Parrhesiastic Modality

It was through, not in spite of, the study of sexuality that Foucault arrived at the concept of the care of the self. Through his researches on sexuality Foucault made the remarkable discovery that, more than being only an indicator of power, sex is also an indicator of the subject in relationship to truth (Gros, 2006, p. 512).

This relation of subjectivity to truth develops Foucault’s previous work by adding a third dimension to the previously known power and knowledge. No longer should we be confident that as Foucaultians we can see our sexual identities as formatted by a dominant power, and confine our agency strictly to a resistance to that power.

Through his studies of sexual practices in Antiquity, Foucault was able to locate “the form and effects” of the relation of the self to truth as particular elements in the constitution of experience and distinguish these effects with respect to the more familiar effects of knowledge and power. In undertaking this

132 turn, Frédéric Gros reminds us, “Foucault does not abandon politics to dedicate himself to ethics, but complicates the study of governmentalities through the exploration of the care of the self” (Gros, 2006, p. 512). Foucault had to distance himself from the “terrain” of modernity, in which he had so forcefully found the binding apparatuses of knowledge and power, to see the significance of practices of the self. From here on we must add, in addition to Foucault’s famous focus on the imbrications of power and knowledge, the subject who emerges in practices of the self (Foucault, 1990a, p. 4).

The significance of introducing the subject to power and knowledge is clearly illustrated in a short passage of an unpublished manuscript that Foucault had prepared for his first Collège de France course that centers on the techniques of the care of the self, a passage found in Gros’s “Course Context” at the end of

Hermeneutics of the Subject (Gros, 2006). Foucault notes that, since Descartes, philosophy has developed the figure of a subject who is capable of access to truth through knowledge, and capable of right action only by way of being enlightened by truth. In Antiquity, on the other hand, Foucault sees another access to truth, by way of a drastic ethical conversion. The question of interest to Foucault is whether the former has entirely displaced the latter. If the answer is affirmative then “the question of whether the subject’s being must be brought into play” in accessing truth can be set aside (Gros, 2006, p. 523). If ethical conversion cannot be displaced, then “virtues and experiences” from ethical conversions will have a

133 certain “form” and “force” that must be taken into account in the emergence of the subject. It is here, through the subject, that Foucault tries to get out of Marxist humanism to propose a response to the question of how the capital-labor encounter evolved into capitalism. Rejecting escape from humanism through a theory of objective knowledge or a new analysis of signifying systems, Foucault turns to putting “the subject back into the historical domain of practices and processes in which he has been constantly transformed,” where the subject is now a subject of knowledge, a subject of power, and a subject of practices of the self (p.

525).

In his second Collège de France course on the care for the self, published as

The Government of Self and Others, Foucault displaces the phrase “care for the self” with truth-telling, “parrhesia,” and begins the course by revisiting Kant’s “What is

Enlightenment?” Here, for the first time, the question of how to critically interpret agency is staged not in terms of “desubjectification” through resistance to knowledge/power deployments, but with regard to parrhesia. In Foucault’s last course, published as The Courage of Truth, parrhesia is presented with three characteristics. The first of these is that parrhesia is clearly placed in relation to governmentality. Foucault says, “It seems to me that by examining the notion of parrhesia we can see how the analysis of veridiction, the study of techniques of governmentality, and the identification of forms of practices of the self interweave”

(Foucault, 2011a, p. 8). Parrhesia is a practice of self-making through veridiction

134 rather than through the acquisition of knowledge. It is a technique of the government of the self and others that is distinct from domination. It is a formation of the practices of the self rather than a deduction of the subject. Since practices of self-making vary, and since they variably involve deployments of knowledge, power, and self-making, for the first time Foucault speaks of

“governmentalities” to describe the various rationalities of practices. These rationalities do not necessarily result from knowledge and power deployments alone, and can now also sometimes be seen to create effects that directly counter those deployments. Secondly, parrhesia occurs in a relationship that is not egalitarian in that it is a relationship of leadership, the government of self and others, and is a practice that one does for others. This is the lesson we learn from the danger of practicing parrhesia in democracy, in the first current of parrhesia described earlier. Parrhesia necessarily creates an inequality between speaker and listener. A third characteristic of parrhesia is that it involves ethical differentiation on the part of the listener – understood as a process of valuation that necessitates bringing truth into play in the construction of the self. Ethical differentiation can be positively compared to Weber’s “charismatic qualifications” in that both take truth into play in the construction of the self and both involve valuation – the latter not as some moral quality only available to a leader but in the part of all those involved in the relationship.

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My point here is that it is in Foucault’s studies of the practices of the self, and particularly of parrhesia, that Foucault presents a viable possibility for introducing techniques of creating the self with respect to truth in modernity. I should be clear that Foucault is not optimistic about this possibility: He says, “And what about the modern epoch, you may ask? I don’t really know. It would no doubt have to be analyzed. We could say perhaps—but these are hypotheses, not even hypotheses: … [T]he parrhesiastic modality has, I believe, precisely disappeared as such, and we no longer find it except where it is grafted on or underpinned” by truth-telling as prophecy, technical expertise, or philosophical discourse on being (Foucault, 2011a, p. 30).

Foucault and Weber: Two Distinct Projects Regarding Leadership

What does all this mean for the relation between Weber and Foucault’s work? I think that the resemblance of parrhesia in Foucault’s work to charisma in

Weber’s work is not coincidental. In both cases, what is of concern is the insertion of value into a life run by, on the one hand, a philosophy of government embodied in pastoral power and, on the other, by a politics of interests played out in the domain of law.

The importance of this affinity becomes clearer on reading about Foucault’s position with respect to Weber’s oeuvre. Foucault himself says that Weber’s works on modern enterprise “support the neo-liberal project” (p. 147). In line with this

136 view, Colin Gordon describes Weber’s somewhat ambivalent position in the

German liberal Nationalokonomie platform of his time. Within this group, Weber recommended the insertion of reason of state as the contingent value-criterion of political economy, that is, as a means by which to insert value into political economy. Careful use of the state as a criterion would enable retention of economic rationality while at the same time imbuing, from above, the society with value-rationality (Gordon, 1987, p. 304). This is done by the entry into politics of the “man of calling for politics” whose charisma is tempered in maturity by his ethic of responsibility (Max Weber, 1994). Weber’s most personalistic depiction of charisma comes in the form of the plebiscitarian leader, an individual Weber realizes is hard to come by. He must have great convictions that are unconventional to society, yet have an ethic of responsibility to uphold society’s conventions. He must guard society and yet bring in the new. The psychic tensions this creates seem unbearable. Which comes first, guardianship or transformation?

What if the two confront one another head on and the very thing the plebiscitarian leader is called to guard is what must change? Weber’s is a therapeutic stance regarding the insertion of reason of state into political economy by those who take on the heavy burden of politics as a vocation. The problem with this stance is that it asks too much of the plebiscitarian politician, who is expected to respect conventions – including the custom for acquisitiveness – and yet be devoted to change. Weber wills that charisma play a crucial role in modernity that

137 his own depiction of charisma seems to defy. In a Weberian mode, charismatic insertion of the new would have the effect of crumbling the imagined walls that economists like to think separate private from public interests while it went about its business of adding value-rationality to the rationally interested, acquisitive character of Menschentum. This is Weber’s project. The problem with this project is that forces a modality that is unsettling of custom into the vocation of upholding custom.

For Foucault, sovereign and pastoral power in modernity is a totalizing and individualizing power whose interest is in society as omnes et singulatum

(Foucault, 2001b, pp. 298-325). While Weber would recognize the potentially totalizing power of pastoralism, he would not recognize the individualizing power of discipline in the same sense as Foucault. For Weber, religion and politics can instill a certain government of self, as with Protestant inner-worldly asceticism, but Gordon reminds us that Weber would be deeply suspicious of governmentality as “rationality pertaining to the conduct of others’ conduct” (Gordon, 1987, p. 306).

For Weber, government as the conduct of other’s conduct could only have one rationality, and this would be of those fearful to act as a result of overwhelming coercive power, those “who have police in their very bones” (p. 306). Therefore,

Weber did not seek to comparatively investigate the governmentalities involved with the conduct of others’ conduct, since all such rationality would be labeled suspicious for being veiled coercion. For Weber, there is reason of state which is a

138 criterion by which charisma can be introduced into rational government, and there is governmentality among those with police in their bones, an undesirable attribute that would retard individual liberties and so one that cannot describe

Menschentum.

Where Foucault finds that the modern state is the effect of a combined pastoral and juridical power, for Weber the modern state is constantly in jeopardy of relinquishing reason of state to capitalism, where the latter is understood here as an ethos of acquisitiveness in the absence of grounds of value. For Weber the issue was to give value to this ethos through expert scientific valuation and importantly, through the entry of individuals carrying a charisma cultivated within an ethic of responsibility which would somehow – and Weber is not clear how – affect the population. Reason of state is, for Weber, nothing more than a useful channel by which to instill new values in people. What Weber did not see in his pre-Hitler world was that not only charisma, but also governmentality pertains to those processes that fall into the rubric of reason of state. Gordon writes, “If Weber is not a noted theoretician of this topic [of individual existence as a concern of the state], this may be because he is one of its most passionate and pragmatically committed exponents” (Gordon, 1987, p. 307). After all, for Weber the way out of the iron cage of capitalism is not to critique acquisitiveness but to try to instill, through state politics, Menschentum with a new Lebensführung.

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If this is Weber’s project, then what does it tell us of how Foucault’s is different? If Foucault sought out parrhesia in ancient Greek cultures as Weber sought out charisma in medieval kingship and religion, then how are their two projects different? The answer in my view lies in the appropriate domain in which they felt leadership could be enacted. Whereas Weber wants leadership to remain exclusively in the hands of those who use state institutions so that they act on collective identities such as the nation and civil society, for Foucault leadership is a means by which the ethical difference of truth can come into play in self construction. It is the means by which customs can be unsettled. As such, the domain of this play of truth cannot be at the level of society or people, at which point the issue of quantity and the problem of always being a minority becomes the determining factor in assessing truth, as seen in the Greek democratic example. Additionally, the Cynic experience speaks to the power of the play of truth that interweaves with life itself, in life lived as truth. If Weber is looking to enhance modern governmentality by having charismatic leaders of state institutions introject value into the Menschentum’s governmentality, Foucault is looking to leadership to disturb and destruct this governmentality’s effects at the capillaries of power. By acting at the capillaries of power, Foucaultian leadership enables the creation of collectivities in which practices of the self confront biopolitical and disciplinary deployments. Foucault’s focus on Cynic parrhesia specifically speaks to Foucault’s conception of leadership as a philosophical

140 activity of unsettling and vicediction. Philosophical heroism is the art of making life a philosophical problem, an art cultivated by legendary histories of philosophical lives, and through a “traditionality of existence” that displaces the traditionality of doctrine in that it takes lessons from histories of philosophical lives about modes of heroism. As such, leadership at the capillaries of power is neither passive nor quotidian. It is a life both of self-creation and of the self- creation of heroes as a stylistics of existence.

For Foucault, parrhesia as a technology of the self is active particularly in the last of three dimensions – truth-telling, governmentality, and subjectivation – of his researches, and in its Cynic form is key to the entry of the subject’s morality at the intersection of knowledge and power. For this reason, for the reason that leadership matters in political formations and in changing the societal effects of knowledge and power, leadership should be recognized and studied for its capacity to constitute subjects. Foucault found himself turning to Weber much more closely in his later years, by which time he must have been well aware of the affinities between charisma and parrhesia. This turn to Weber can be attributed, at least in part, to the work of Paul Veyne and Pasquale Pasquino who themselves have published works that speak to the vibrant tension between Weber and

Foucault.15 It is at this point in his life that Foucault is quoted as saying “if

Nietzsche interests me, this is only to the extent that Nietzsche for Weber was absolutely determining, even if in general it is not said.”16 Foucault and Weber

141 problematized leadership in similar, but in the senses discussed above, opposing, terms. This puts a vitalizing tension into the apposition of their work, and more pertinently lays the groundwork for a revitalized study of leadership as a technology of self creation. Furthermore, Weber’s work on economy and religion, including his copious studies of late medieval and early modernity, would be a rich source for Foucaultian investigation.

Foucault, Parrhesia, and Sovereignty

While a reconsideration of leadership for affirming self-composition and practices of freedom is certainly worth at least one book-length investigation, my interest in this dissertation is different. I want to reconsider the relationship of leadership to sovereignty, and develop the concept of parrhesia, as a leadership relation like charisma, for this undertaking. I realize that this may be considered by some as an unfaithful undertaking given Foucault’s insistence that the state is merely an effect of relations of power. However, both Foucault and Weber stress that leadership respectively as parrhesia and charisma is precisely not present in modern state society. While Weber characterizes this as disenchantment, for

Foucault the pastoral power conducted in networks of relations in biopolitical governmentality is individualizing in such a way as to somehow undo, neutralize, or suppress parrhesia. Foucault writes, “the individualization assured by the exercise of pastoral power” is an individualization that is no longer “defined by an

142 individual’s status, birth, or the splendor of his actions” (Foucault, 2009, p. 184). By the phrase “splendor of his actions” I think we can understand both the valorous charismatic actions of feudal warfare and the parrhesiastic actions in the Socratic and Cynic mode. This suppression, neutralization or otherwise disappearance of parrhesiastic technologies of the self in pastoralism describes “procedures of human individualization in the West” (ibid.). In a liberal reading of Foucault, the project may simply be that such technologies have to be reintroduced into modern society. My suspicion is that the problem is nowhere near as simple as this. Before we can call upon a reinvigoration of parrhesiastic technologies, we should ask ourselves precisely what happened to parrhesiastic technologies in modernity.

How is it that authorship, dictated by parrhesia in such exemplars as Socrates and especially Diogenes, is now dominantly something given and changeable by rituals of confession? For reasons explained in Chapter 5, I suspect that leadership is complicit in the genesis of sovereign social organization, but also completely remade in the process. The very relations that Foucault sees as parrhesiastic in

Greece contribute to sovereign authority. The state is an effect – I agree with

Foucault on this – but the relations formed in the accomplishment of the state- effect radically affect parrhesiastic practices.

I have shown in this chapter that Foucault’s interest in parrhesia in his research of Greek practices of the self can be read as an attempt to take the concept of charisma in a direction that Weber would not. For Weber charisma is a

143 problematic vehicle by which value might be instilled in rationalized citizens, and

Weber turned to religion late in his career with the interest of exploring how their charismatic dimensions may be imported as a therapy for the rationalized citizen.

For Foucault parrhesia is a form of government of the self and others, that gives subjects the autonomy of action by which to confront the imbrications of power and knowledge with techniques of self-formation in relation to truth. Foucault turns to Greek – particularly Cynic – parrhesia in search of techniques of the self that do not seem to exist in modernity, with an interest in learning something of what (and how) other, similar techniques could be reintroduced in modernity.

Importantly, while Weber is ambivalent about whether charisma shirks tradition and legal-rationality to inaugurate the new, sometimes writing of the charismatic’s vulnerability to derision, for Foucault the parrhesiast is the king of derision who falsifies customs and currencies and so has a kingship immune to derision. While their intended applications may seem the same – broadly speaking, they both intend to introduce leadership in modernity – taken at the wide scale of their overall work, they are clearly entirely different. While Weber turns to charisma to add value to the life of the capitalist subject, Foucault turns to parrhesia in search of a weapon with which to attack networks of pastoral power.

In the next chapter, I abstract the opposition found between Weber and

Foucault, and propose that they exemplify two abstract ideas of leadership. The first is Platonic leadership, of which Weber’s plebiscitarian politician is exemplary

144 but his charisma is not. The second is leadership in an “overturned Platonic” mode, exemplified here in Foucault’s conception of parrhesia.

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1 However, accounts of Foucault’s work regarding parrhesia, some excellent, did begin very shortly after the lectures were delivered (Gordon, 1987; Oneill, 1986; Owen, 1989; Taylor, 1984). 2 This proliferation largely stems from the publications over the last decade of Foucault’s late lectures in both French and English. Among them, articles in the new e-journal Parrhesia are prominent. Within and outside of the journal Parrhesia, they include (Davila, 2003; Flynn, 1991; Konstan, 2002; Lemke, 2010; Lycos, 2003; Paras, 2006; Sharpe, 2005). 3 Trustis is a term Weber uses to describe the charismatic community constituted by the Frankish kings’ military household (Max Weber, 1978b, p. 1122). The German word Weber uses to generally describe the charismatic trustis or community of “disciples” is Vertrauensmänner which is unfortunately translated to “agent” in the English edition (Max Weber, 1978a, p. 243). I use the Latin trustis to highlight the particular position of these followers beyond their being agents, and to stress a warrior culture in charismatic communities over the priestly culture suggested by the prophetic “disciple.” 4 “Sondern nur Berufung nach Eingebung des Führers auf Grund der charismatischen Qualifikation des Berufenen.” 5 Foucault’s 1984 interview with H. Becker, R. Fornet-Betancourt, and A. Gomez-Müller serves as a good introduction to the truth games in care for the self (Foucault, 1997a, pp. 295-296). 6 Covering three different term-length courses at the College de France in Paris (Foucault, 2006, 2011a, 2011b), and six lectures presented during Foucault’s time at the University of California in Berkeley (Foucault, 2001a). I rely most heavily on the later of these, that is, the lectures published as Fearless Speech and, primarily, The Courage of Truth. 7 Chapters 3 and 4 of Arpad Szakolczai’s Max Weber and Michel Foucault (1998) offers a very close and instructive, inventive, take on Weber’s writing style. 8 Here Lebensstil, lifestyle, can also be translated, using Foucaultian language, to the “stylistics of existence.” 9 See (Hennis, 1998) for a detailed reading of Weber’s oeuvre. 10 The first “conducts” can be read as “guides, directs, leads” and the repeated term read as “the way in which one conducts oneself.” 11 Government should be clearly distinguished from Foucault’s governmentality. By the latter he means the rationality immanent to certain microphysics of power relations. It is within these particular power relations that the types of conduct which characterize the institution commonly understood as “government” (state, local, etc.) are established. See (Gros, 2007, pp. 388-389). Unlike the common understanding, for Foucault government generally refers to the conduct of conduct. 12 Studies of relations between Weber’s and Nietzsche’s work include (Diggins, 1998; Eden, 1983; Kent, 1983; Treiber, 1995); and those between Foucault and Nietzsche include (Lash & Whimster, 1987; G. Shapiro, 2003; Warren, 1991). 13 Other such attempts include (Gane, 2002; Oneill, 1986; A. Szakolczai, 2003) . Szakolczai has also published a stimulating and provocative intellectual biographical comparison of Weber and Foucault (Á. Szakolczai, 1998). 14 Andreas Kalyvas makes an argument that bears some affinities with my own (2009). Kalyvas argues that there are two versions of charismatic politics to be found in Weber’s work. The first is a “collective, impersonal form of rebellious hegemonic processes” and the other is a forms that focuses on “personal attributes of charismatic leaders” (2002, pp. 20-21). Kalyvas argues that the former, chronologically earlier (pre-1913) version form charisma merits closer examination. 15 Among the work of interest are Doit (2007); Pasquino (1993, 2001, 2006, 2009); Senellart (1995); Veyne (1997, 2010). These are either work by Foucault’s contemporary “Weberians” or those influenced by them.

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16 I take this quote from Szakolczai (Á. Szakolczai, 1998, p. 2) who found it in the April 1983 interview at Berkeley, “A propos de Nietzsche, Habermas, Arendt, MacPherson,” document D 240 (8) in the Foucault Archives.

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Chapter 4: The Platonic Guardian and His Deleuzian Double

Two leadership figures populate the measured space of the state depicted in

Deleuze and Guattari’s Anti-Oedipus. The first is that of the philosopher-king as the one who knows the founding myth of the State better than all others and so is able to make judgments on the nature of all things encountered by the State. The second is the representative as the one who carries realized reason within himself as the characteristics of the people. Deleuze and Guattari describe state sovereignty as having two corresponding heads in the image of thought among the sovereign’s subjects (1987, pp. 374-375; Massumi, 2002). The first pole is the imperium of true thinking, which constitutes a mythical foundation (mythos) by virtue of operating by magical capture. Here, the capture of ideas, like the founding of a state, is the subject of myth, and those that create myths are akin to founding fathers. The second pole is thought’s ground, its logos, as the legislated justice administered by a republic of free spirits who proceed by pact. Those who make laws in the republic do so with a representative authority that assures adherence to the pact. These two heads of thought, mythos and logos, are in constant interference, leading to an image of thought among state subjects as “a

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‘republic of free spirits whose prince would be the idea of the Supreme Being’” (p.

375). The two figures of leadership present in the two poles of the state, the founder and the representative, both come from the Platonic tradition of leadership. The representative is nothing more than the Aristotelian evolution of the founder as Plato’s philosopher-king.

Neither of these two figures is equal to the Foucault’s parrhesiast who, as I showed in Chapter 3, neither leads by representation nor by a founding judgment but by unsettling myths and conventions. Yet, our common notions of leadership always bring us back to either the representative or the founding father. In this chapter, I abstract and develop Foucault’s concept of parrhesia by turning to

Deleuze’s philosophy of creativity. I do this so as to understand how the parrhesiastic modality is different from the two conventional forms of representation and founding. My approach is to develop parrhesia as an

“overturned” mode of Platonic leadership. If Deleuze’s philosophy is about overturning Platonism, as Deleuze repeatedly affirms it is (1994, pp. xx, 59, 66, 126,

244), my question is what happens to the Platonic tradition of leadership in this overturning? What figure of leadership should be created to conceptually displace those of the Platonic tradition? Or, are we to understand that by overturning

Platonism Deleuze “overturns” leadership into its very opposite – perhaps into the leaderless horizontalism emblematic of the 2011 Occupy Wall Street movements

(Sitrin, 2006)? In this chapter, I first propose that an alternative concept of

149 leadership emerges on overturning the philosopher-king in Plato according to the philosophy Deleuze presents in Difference and Repetition. I develop this overturned Platonic concept of leadership and show that Foucault’s parrhesiast, particularly in the falsifying, Cynic, current, is an exemplar of it. In overturning

Platonism, a double of leadership is revealed. Whereas leadership in the Platonic tradition has the role of guardianship and judgment, leadership in overturned

Platonism is about creative vicediction.

One of the most enduring of Plato’s concepts is that of the necessary leader of the city, the philosopher-king. Leadership is an emblematic feature of the

Platonic republic, and since Plato a tradition of thought on leadership has retained its central place in politics. The first section of this chapter reviews the Platonic conception of leadership and introduces Deleuze’s overturning of Platonism to make the case that an important place for leadership as a transformational force of guidance is implicitly retained in Deleuzian philosophy. The second section focuses on just how leadership seen through the Deleuzian lens works as a transformational force. I argue that “crowned anarchy” as the moment of creativity, and evaluation as ethical differentiation in Foucault’s terms, describe a leadership relation by which guided social transformation occurs through creative vicediction. The third section reads explicit mention of leadership with reference to “packs” in Deleuze and Guattari’s A Thousand Plateaus in light of the capacity of small-scale social transformation by creative vicediction. In the following chapter,

150 the two modes of leadership – leadership as guardianship in the Platonic tradition and leadership as creative vicediction which I develop from Deleuze’s philosophy – are both brought to bear on the production of sovereignty and large-scale social change.

Platonic Leadership and Its Deleuzian Overturning

This section reviews Platonic guardianship and Deleuze’s problematization of Platonic philosophy in Difference and Repetition. I present this study to make the case that in Deleuze’s overturning of Platonism, and so in Deleuzian philosophy, leadership implicitly retains its important function of ensuring the inevitability of social transformation. Deleuze displaces the event of social change by guardianship and judgment found in the Platonic tradition with creative vicediction as leadership by guidance. It is with creative vicediction, I argue in the next section, that the inventiveness of leadership as a “crowned anarchy” is realized.

Knowledge and Belief in Platonic Leadership, and the Deleuzian Critique

Leadership in Plato’s Republic has continued to be the object of keen theoretic debate in the course of the twentieth century. On the one hand, for

Hannah Arendt, Leo Strauss, and Julia Annas, rulership in Plato is a matter of

151 tekhnē, the craft of society and its laws by guardians (Annas, 1981; Arendt, 1998;

Bambrough, 1962; Strauss, 1978). On the other, for John Gould and much of the ancient analytic philosophy tradition (G. Fine, 2003; Irwin, 1994), rule by philosopher-king in the Republic cannot ultimately be about craft since for Plato tekhnē is sharply distinguished from philosophy in that the latter necessitates epistēmē, justified beliefs, or the ability to know what is in reality. Since Plato describes knowledge as the knowledge of forms and not of the sensible world, knowledge as justified beliefs open the possibility that in Plato rule is a matter of judgment made by those with an extraordinary, supernatural capacity for justified belief at the widest scale of the whole city (Cross & Woozley, 1964; Gould, 1955).

Knowledge of the city is a matter of transcending belief and gaining knowledge of the sensible. The former position (that rule in the Republic in presented by Plato as tekhnē) is untenable if one takes seriously Socrates’ own claim in the Republic that it is philosophers, who are by definition not craftsmen and producers, who must be guardians (Republic 503b). Therefore, to sustain their position, the guardianship-as-craft supporters either rework the flow of dialogue in the Republic at the cost of conceiving a clumsy end to the description of the city where the dialogue on the philosopher-king begins, or propose a paradox of the philosopher’s rule in the Republic, one famously resolved by Strauss and Allan Bloom through recourse to “Platonic irony” and the impossibility of actualizing the model city

(Brickhouse, 1981).

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For Deleuze, the problem with Platonic judgment is not that it presents the philosopher-king as a supernatural figure, but that Plato’s use of judgment constricts change in the good city into transformation driven by fear that a false change would be out of accord with some transcendent truth. On this reading, the problem with the concept of the philosopher-king lies in the “play of myth” by which Plato shifts from leadership by philosophical guidance to leadership by guardianship by a philosopher-king who is himself judged to be the true claimant to the knowledge of truth. Read in a Deleuzian vein, rule for Plato is a matter of judgment, and judgment is made by recourse to myths rather than by any extraordinary capacities of the philosopher-king to justified beliefs that transcend the belief-knowledge gap. Judgment, in Deleuze’s reading of Plato, is the product of skilful application of mythological foundations to current problems. The philosopher-king, like all philosophers, is a claimant to knowledge of truth, and true claimants are separated from false claimants according to how well their claims resemble myths about the city.

In the course of the Republic’s play of myth, the argument for the philosopher-king undergoes a distinct turn from leadership as guidance to leadership as judgment. The dialogue regarding leadership begins with the presentation of the myth of the ship, an allegory of the necessity for philosophers as lovers of truth to navigate and guide the city as ship as it undergoes inevitable change. The illustration of the ship leaves leadership open to wide-ranging

153 readings of what such guidance would entail. All that is required to guide the city, according to the myth of the ship, is a love of truth. This diversity of leadership is, however, strictly abbreviated in Plato’s subsequent allegory of the cave in which leadership of the good city is constricted from a matter of guidance to one of guardianship, and those who can lead it are further categorized from all lovers of truth to only those judged to be true lovers of truth. The myth of the cave establishes that only true lovers of truth, true philosophers, are guardians and so worthy of being philosopher-kings, while false lovers of truth are simulacra of true philosophers who are actually merely lovers of opinion and suitable for nothing more than guidance in the form of teaching true philosophers’ revelations to others. False philosophers are Sophists and mere guides, while true philosophers are guardians suitable for ruling the city.

The manner in which the separation between true and false philosophers occurs in Plato’s Republic is itself a play on myth – one which is for Deleuze, as I show below, Plato’s greatest error. This is the myth, given within the allegory of the cave, that perfect, divine Forms are to be found in the brilliant light of the gods’ truth. In Plato’s philosophy, claimants are selected by distinguishing between things and their simulacra, between those things that bear a good resemblance to

Forms (such as true philosophers as lovers of truth), and those that are mere simulacra, second degree copies of Forms and so impure and marred with difference (such as lovers of opinion). With this myth-within-the-myth, the

154 philosopher-king becomes one whose guidance must take the form of guardianship against the injustice of false claims to knowledge of Forms, and thus of the gods’ truth. In a Deleuzian reading, the myth of the Forms within the myth of the cave serves a purpose similar to the “myth of the metals” presented earlier in the Republic. While the myth of metals is presented as a noble lie, a founding myth made to separate producers from philosophers, the myth within the myth of the cave similarly serves to make divisions among philosophers.

The myth of Forms also serves to make the myth of metals a founding myth. No longer is the founding myth a noble lie only for the subjection of the producing class, it now becomes the founding truth of the city according to which all claims to guide the city can be judged. So as to lead the city, the guardian must show that his claim to truth bears a good resemblance to the city’s Form. The only image of the city’s form known to be true, or at least to be a noble lie, is that of the city’s founding – the myth of metals. The noble lie must now be elevated to the myth of the Form of the city, and the philosopher must now show that his leadership is true to the city’s founding myth of metals. These true names are already found in the myths of the city’s founding, All names the philosopher offers to give a description adequate to the situation at hand, must bear good resemblance to the myth of metals. The only manner by which the true philosopher can be contested is with the charge that their naming of the city is false with respect to the city’s founding myth. Guidance of the city’s multitude of

155 people now becomes guardianship of the city’s founding myth. With the shift from guidance to guardianship the philosopher’s agency is severely constricted to proving faithfulness to transcendent truth that can only be known by a founding noble lie, and politics becomes a play on founding myths between claimants to truth.

The founding myth serves to shape the dialectic of circular turning and returning of myth, by establishment of a model in the myth as a suitable ground on which to base the difference and measure claims (Deleuze, 1994, p. 62). The myth both constitutes the ground in which rivals take part and the principle for the selection of claimants. When a Platonic claimant claims to be something (to being the true philosopher in Sophist, the true lover in Phaedrus, the true statesman in The Statesman) he finds himself standing and laying claim to a plot of ground on the terrain of a myth. As such, in Platonic judgment testing claimants is a matter of testing the degree to which they trespass upon the ground that the claimants themselves call forth. The Idea of the myth both grounds and serves as the principle of the authentication process, infiltrating doubt into every aspect of it. Judgment is always doubted and claims are always doubted. Gregory Flaxman illustrates this in terms of a prospector or homesteader laying down stakes as a claim over land to show the peculiarity of Plato’s reasoning. Flaxman asks us to imagine that the mythic ground functions “as both the object of the claim and the test of the claimant, as if the prospector or homesteader had put his stakes down

156 only to hear the land itself respond, ‘No, you are not worthy.’” (2009, p. 17). The claimant’s response, surely, is to ask who the judge is to proclaim the claimant’s unworthiness. Myth changes the sense of the whole exercise of authentication, limiting the winding paths – at least determining their endpoints – and in this way renouncing in advance the realization of difference by opting instead for judgment, but doing so at the cost of allowing doubt to infiltrate the whole process. Any difference is now based on resemblance and a claimant is either a good copy of an Idea in the myth, or a mere copy of a copy whose similarity has been marred by difference. It is for this reason that claimants’ role as participants is particularly meaningful; claimants already come to the terrain of the myth as its participants and in doing so at best can essentially take second place in a drama of the myth that is not immanently their own (Deleuze, 1994, p. 61).

We find in Plato that guardianship is accomplished through a winding, tortuous, path of rationales that do not include an overarching, generalizable reason that authentication is accomplished. Flaxman notes that the process of

Platonic reasoning often seems absurd to the modern ear, an absurdity that only bears witness to the idiosyncrasy and peculiarity of each process of reasoning

(Flaxman, 2009, p. 16). This would seem to be a promising process for arriving at an authentication of any claimant because one can always find some rationale, some singular winding route for authenticating anything as a true copy of a Form.

But this relativism of essence is halted in Plato’s dialogues by Plato’s introduction

157 of a founding myth as deus ex machina to finally make an authentication and forestall relativism. Decision on myth is decision by play of myth and suffused with doubt.

In a Deleuzian reading, Plato’s story of leadership begins with leadership as guidance, but then strips away most the capacity to make change through guidance. Leadership for Plato can either be true claimants’ guardianship that must take recourse in myth or it can be false claimants’ passive teaching of the ideas of true claimants, the latter not permitted to be leadership at all. Guidance is made subservient to leadership as guardianship, which through the myth of Forms becomes the only way of rule.

Deleuze’s response to the debate about leadership as craft or judgment by justified belief is thus that leadership is about judgment, but judgment does not entail supernatural decision as Gould and others might have it. Rather, leadership as judgment subjects leadership itself to judgment in the play of myth, and the only transcendent power in the play are the founding myths themselves. Deleuze writes that it is as though guiding others through the act of naming “discloses its true goal” of making difference arrive, of making life transformational, but then turns and “renounces the realisation of this goal” by making division “the simple

‘play’ of myth” (ibid.). All this, at the cost of doubt.

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Overturning Forms into Ideas, and Founding Myths into the Eternal Return

Leadership in Deleuze’s philosophy cannot be a matter of play on myth, but

Deleuze is explicit that it is “not only inevitable but desirable” that overturning

Platonism conserves many Platonic characteristics (1994, p. 59). More than anything, it is desirable for Deleuze to retain the broad Platonic notion that every act of division of things in the world, every instance of stating what is and so dividing what is from all else, is unmediated by a general reason. “Making the difference,” deciding what claim is true, is a matter for Deleuze of “operating in the depths of the immediate” and so is dangerous in that it is every time a trial, an experiment. Leaving every instance of naming unmediated by general reason retains the sense that something like Platonic Forms inspire a capricious, aleatory division in every instance (1994, p. 59). I think that for Deleuze the political project is to retain the sense of leadership as guidance and to ward off the confining establishment through myth of leadership as guardianship. The philosopher,

Deleuze writes, “refuses to be drawn out of the cave” where he would be forced to accept and interpret a brilliant, sovereign intelligence of Forms known by myth, and finds instead “another cave beyond, always another in which to hide” and think difference without being subject to a founding myth (ibid.).

In Deleuze’s philosophy, the Platonic circle of myth, this return to founding myth at the moment of making difference arrive is displaced by the Nietzschean concept of the eternal return. This substitution gets to the heart of Deleuze’s

159 concept of overturning Platonism. With the substitution, it is not to about returning to a founding myth, as if in search of good resemblance to the Forms of sovereign gods who bestow truth from above, but to the eternal return of difference as an abstract power of formless Being which has no constituted identity, no myth, but only affirms life’s capacity to make divisions through skilful awareness of immediate conditions. In the eternal return, the only guidance in making divisions comes from the simulacrum itself, the thing confronted which serves as the symbol from which to attain direction for change. Now all images have equal standing; they are all simulacra and so there is no need to defer to something else at the moment of making divisions. There is no issue of separating good images from simulacra, true from false claimants to the proper division of things. The eternal return, for Deleuze, “swallows up and destroys every ground

[every grounding myth] which would function as an instance responsible for the difference between the original and the derived, between things and simulacra. It makes us party to a “universal ungrounding” (p. 67) where guidance is no longer subservient to the sovereignty of Forms but is a matter of unsettling and destabilizing the myths of Forms.

With the eternal return, Plato’s Forms are turned into Deleuzian Ideas.

Deleuzian Ideas are like Platonic Forms in that they are abstract conditions that guide action, but while Platonic Forms are the criteria for judging good, first order images and distinguishing all else as corrupted simulacra (greatly constricting

160 their transformative possibility), Deleuzian Ideas are themselves resistant to identification and so to being made into criteria for judgment. Here, the model of the myth is replaced with the Idea as an abstract notion that returns with difference. Consider the example of the Idea of Freedom. Whereas in Platonic divisions certain moments can be judged with respect to the Form of freedom as depicted in some myth, in Deleuzian philosophy the Idea of freedom may be thought of as “flight” with the relation between flight as the Idea of freedom and any instance of freedom giving its own specific features to both Idea and instance.

Adequate Ideas are such that if all identifiable instances of an Idea were to be concentrated together, the abstract image of that concentration would be their

Idea (p. 28).

Deleuze further defines the aleatory point of difference in the eternal return as the Idea of Ideas, or that which animates Ideas (p. 283). As such, the only identity of the eternal return is the difference that carries out the return of Ideas themselves (p. 41). Unlike Platonic thought, it is not the identity of the myth that returns, and unlike Descartes’ or Kantian thought, it is not the subject as the constant thinker of Ideas that returns. Only the aleatory element of the return itself is capable of conceiving repetition on the basis of difference. What this strange thing is – both the same and different – that returns, Deleuze tells us, is transformation, the excessive of what was that passes into something else (ibid.). It is thought.

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Thought for Deleuze is not the thought of a subject or of a myth, but the thought that exceeds aleatory combination of relevant subjects’ and objects’ elements in the particular situation. For Deleuze, thought occurs when the subject and unified objects are “smashed to pieces” in a metamorphosis in which the self takes on a new form (Hughes, 2009, p. 137). In the eternal return’s formlessness, in the precursor to thought, the “ungrounded fragments” of the self and others are dispersed. It is out of this formlessness that a new Idea gives reciprocal relation to the dispersed fragments, naming each of these and the metamorphosed “I” which may now contemplate its dispersed self.

If the Platonic circle of myth creates hierarchies according to resemblance to the myth, the eternal return overturns such hierarchies for the “crowned anarchies” of the extreme of passing into something else. I return to the concept of crowned anarchy and the presubjective sense it gives to leadership in the next section of this chapter.

Categorization and Leadership as Representation in the Platonic Tradition: Aristotle

While the chaotic and ever-changing world “still growls in Platonism” – after all, it may be difficult but remains possible to change a founding myth in

Plato’s philosophy – in the work of Aristotle, Plato’s successor in the Platonic tradition, the Platonic Form is tamed by being submitted to the requirements of representation (1994, p. 59). Aristotle ties up the loose ends found in Plato’s return

162 to myth by relating difference to the identity of the concept in general. In

Aristotelian selection, the limited freedom of movement offered by the play of myth is lost and anticipation of even the most drastic difference is allowed to be nothing more than anticipation of something that is analogous to the familiar.

Aristotle tries to rid the play of selecting a new myth or interpreting myths differently that gives Plato’s play of myth its limited transformative potential, but this attempt is only partly successful and, as I explain below, comes at a high cost.

Aristotle develops a philosophy of categories according to a logic of justice that eradicates the limited play permitted in Plato’s play of myth. Categorical reason works on the presumption that agreement underlies difference, making difference subservient to an overarching similarity at least at the generic level.

Whether the difference is deemed generic or specific, judgment now occurs by recourse to not to myth but to analogy. The analogy of proportion measures difference with respect to the overarching category of substance (the quality and quantity of substance in vegetable compared to animal) and the analogy of proportionality measures difference according to a comparison of two relations (a point is to a line as a spring of water is to a river). Categorical reason is hierarchical and distributive such that forming the hierarchy of difference takes good sense (it takes good sense to know the categories by which a thinking man descends from substance), and forming the distribution of difference takes common sense (it takes common sense to discern the contrarieties by which

163 poodles differ from terriers). Together, common sense and good sense make up the faculty of judgment for the naming of things.

Aristotelian judgment is always mediated by representation, since all things are subsumed by hierarchical and distributive analogical characterization by common or good sense. Applied to the matters of the polis, its inhabitants are likewise categorized and subjectified to have representative features. To the extent that they encourage flourishing, these representative features are the virtues of the polis. Any individual with ambitions to lead the polis must come to possess through learning the city’s virtues, and thereby earn representative authority. So for Aristotle leadership is a matter of a virtuosity that mixes both hierarchical and distributive analogical reasoning. So as to apply good judgment and just measure to a city, the Aristotelian leader should represent in his person the particular distribution of virtues in the city and should possess a purer representation of each virtue in comparison to others.

Aristotelian judgment cannot fully take the place of leadership as guardianship since it can only go so far, and when “breaks of continuity in the series of resemblances or impassable fissures between the analogical structures” are encountered, when judgment through analogy breaks down and difference reveals its primacy (Deleuze, 1994, p. 35), then representative leadership ceases to be authoritative. In such moments representative judgment gives rise to the catastrophic exception, opening up a space and providing a rationale for a return

164 to myths and to leadership as guardianship. When doubt returns to Aristotelian judgment, it comes in a tsunami, breaking down the most valued general categorizations, leaving confusions of species in its wake. This is the cost of

Aristotelian judgment: Assurance of normalcy during moments of small scale comparison at the cost of opening the social world to the catastrophic breakdown, the suspension and overhaul of myths, and revolutionary change when general representations break down. Doubt, which suffused all judgment in the Platonic vein, is now forestalled until it becomes an emergency that must be repressed by the most commanding, “archaic” decision.

The basis of Deleuze’s vehement rejection of Aristotelian philosophy is that it standardizes and regularizes Plato’s mythical Forms. By contrast, for Deleuze the division of things according to difference is unmediated, and division according to difference “acts in the immediate and is inspired by the Ideas rather than by the requirements of a concept in general” (p. 59). For Deleuze, the irreducible difference present in the Idea and in the singularity reveals the failure of subordinating difference to identity in Aristotelian categorization. I show later in this chapter that for Deleuze overturning Plato entails the displacement of the analogous for the anomalous with direct implications for leadership – leadership by virtue of analogy becomes leadership by anomaly.

Two claims can now be made from my overturning of the philosopher-king in the Platonic tradition about the prospects for a Deleuzian understanding of

165 leadership. The first is that if a role for leadership as guidance is retained in

Deleuze’s idea of transformation, then it is a transformational role with the capacity to make radical changes in social collectivities. In contrast to leadership as guardianship, leadership as guidance must not serve any conservative or systematizing function and must be mediated only by the eternal return. Secondly, if there is a place for leadership in social transformation it should become evident in showing how presubjective thought spreads beyond the immediate locale. I turn to address this question in the next section.

Crowned Anarchy and Evaluation in Social Transformation

How is thought, produced in the eternal return, a socially transformational force? In both his singly authored work and in work co-authored with Guattari,

Deleuze rarely mentions leadership but it looms in the background of two important concepts with which the process of transformation is described. While leadership is implicit in the concept of crowned anarchy, it is explicit in the pack.

The role of leadership in both of these concepts is presented below, beginning with crowned anarchy.

Crowned anarchy is itself a term that for Deleuze describes the creative moment of the eternal return in which Ideas develop such that Aristotelian logic is reversed and the identical is once again subordinated to the different. I propose

166 below that crowned anarchy describes a capacity to problematize customary knowledge, such as the knowledge of kingship, and in the process of this problematization, offer new ideas for making sense of reality. Crowned anarchy describes a moment of creativity that is different from Platonic leadership in which creativity is always limited to mythological or analogical reasoning. Additionally, I show that in being a process of dramatization, crowned anarchy as the creative moment that instigates leadership as guidance is in itself already directed to others. Leadership as guidance begins within the creative moment of crowned anarchy.

Deleuze borrows the term from Antonin Artaud’s Heliogabalus, Or the

Crowned Anarchist (2006), in which crowned anarchy describes the reign of the

Roman emperor Heliogabalus whose violence and sexual excess Artaud portrayed as a work of ritualistic art, an art of sovereign kingship lived to cross its limit into absurdity. Heliogabalus is portrayed to have lived not as a Platonic good copy of a shepherd-god or some other Form of kingship, but simultaneously as both simulacrum and the very person of sovereign kingship, both anti-king and king, thereby seizing upon a constituent disparity in the notion of sovereign kingship itself and stripping it from the rank of model (p. 67). For Artaud, crowned anarchy conveys a kingship doubled in a manner that alters what it means to be king.

Heliogabalus’s rule is one of crowned anarchy because through his excesses his rule makes a farce out of sovereign kingship. The anarchy that Heliogabalus

167 introduces is “crowned” both in that Heliogabalus plays the role of king amidst the dissolution of a sovereign order and in that Heliogabalus is a leadership figure in a manner that unsettles and renders impure and false any Platonic or representational, state-sovereign, monarchical forms. With the seemingly paradoxical phrase crowned anarchy, Artaud appears to be playing with the term

“an-archy” understood both as “without-command” and as “without-leadership” and in so doing presenting a double of leadership – one that involves “crowning” in its original Greek sense of being distinguished by existing at the extremity of a turn or bend – which is opposed to leadership in its state-sovereign form.1

This Artaudian doubling of both thing-in-itself and the simulacrum found in crowned anarchy, and its implied problematization of norms and Forms, is also found in Deleuze’s reading of Platonic sophists. Sophists are presented in Plato as simulacra and charlatans who nevertheless claim standing as philosophers. As shown earlier with respect to Plato’s Republic, it is precisely with the differentiation of philosophers from mere copies (sophists) that the myth of the cave contracts leadership to guardianship. Despite such attempts to return to myth, as doubles, sophists present a problem for the Platonic ontology of things in terms of resemblances to Forms, and of difference subordinated to similarity, because it is difficult to falsify sophists’ claims to being philosophers. “Insinuated throughout the Platonic cosmos, difference” Deleuze writes, “resists its yoke.

Heraclitus and the Sophists make an infernal racket. It is as though they were a

168 strange double which dogs Socrates’ footsteps and haunts even Plato’s style, inserting itself into the repetitions and variations of that style” (1994, p. 127).

Whereas Plato’s prevailing interest is in the division of things from copies, especially philosophers from sophists, Deleuze advocates trespassing upon all grounds of all myths, and laying claim to models as trespasser rather than participant. In his use of the term double here and elsewhere, in Difference and

Repetition and beyond, Deleuze evokes Artaud’s Theatre and Its Double in which

Artaud advocates a doubling of models as the falsification and intensification of the notion of ideal forms through dramatization. I show below that in evoking

Artaud Deleuze means to remind the reader that crowned anarchy is a site of playing out problems in Ideas through the dramatization of reality. By doubling models, by dramatizing them, the trespasser lays claim to the model as something else, something different. It is in doubling that Platonic participation is reduced to a flimsy mask for trespass.

Whereas for Plato transformation is directed through selection based on resemblance to Forms, for Deleuze transformation begins with crowned anarchy as a dramatization. For Plato, transformation occurs in the rearranging of things and individuals through selection as the play of myth. For Deleuze, transformation occurs through dramatization of Ideas. Dramatization is an Artaudian “theatre of cruelty” like Heliogabalus’s crowned anarchy in that every dramatization is itself a selection that forces a forgetting of the Platonic myth that was by custom

169 considered to ground a concept (p. 29). Deleuze calls this violent effect of dramatization chiaroscuro in that, on the one hand something familiar is returned, but on the other, the familiar is seen to disguise the different and distinctive, forcing recognition to appear as something that merely drapes a singularity.

Indeed for Deleuze, because it involves selection, crowned anarchy is also a space of apprenticeship, a place for learning to learn. Dramatization here is a form of presentation of a selected problem and as such is about making a problem space available for others. Learning and creativity and sensitivity to a problem go hand in hand in the drama of crowned anarchy. As is shown below, it is a Deleuzian selection within dramatization that brings learning into the space of crowned anarchy. If dramatization in Deleuze replaces Platonic selection it is not to simply discard all evaluative criteria.

What is most important for understanding crowned anarchy is that for

Deleuze it is about both the ironic philosophy and humorous art of overturning laws, where laws may be understood broadly as Platonic adherence to founding myths, as Aristotelian classification by genera and species, or as the Kantian categorical imperative. Crowned anarchy involves the art of humor in that it re- presents in detail the consequences of excessive and extreme adherence to a norm

(norms attributed to the glory of kings are confronted in the figure of Heliogabalus the emperor who takes his sovereign rights to such extreme and excess that he descends from grace), and it involves the philosophy of irony in that, through its

170 presentation, crowned anarchy overturns the principle behind the norm (kingship itself is delegitimized as a stable and identifiable idea by exposing that it can be constituted in many ways). Deleuze adds that in crowned anarchy such repetition with a difference, such repetition of the identical that disguises difference, “is by nature transgression or exception, always revealing a singularity opposed to the particulars subsumed under laws, a universal opposed to the generalities which give rise to laws” (1994, p. 5). While humor casts absurdity onto the iconic figures of principles, irony poses such figures as parodic responses to problems in Ideas themselves. That is, irony poses a now disfigured and comedic iconic figure as a simulacrum and problem for its principle, and so finds the identity of the principle itself questionable. The very capacity of any Idea to model the singularity encountered comes to be problematized. Guidance is no longer simply a matter of offering direction to what already is, it is now about showing that what seems to be must be put into question. Irony raises the problem to principle, and humor offers a new partial solution in the present case. This problematizing of principle and offering of a novel response is what is meant by vicediction.

Guidance in the Deleuzian, overturned Platonic mode, is thus about the vicediction of the models of myth, and about turning the negation that comes with doubt into an affirmation of problematization that comes with humor and irony.

For Deleuze, vicediction – or counter effectuation, as Deleuze puts it in his book

Logique du Sens (1969) – is different from Hegelian contradiction which is about

171 denial and the assertion of a contrary position. Vicediction, a technique Deleuze attributes to Leibniz, “consists in constructing the essence from the inessential, and conquering the finite by means of an infinite analytical identity” (1994, p. 263).

While contradiction negates similarity to a Form (and affirms similarity to a different Form), vicediction is the counter effectuation of an Idea that affirms divergence, singularity, and distinctiveness. Vicediction is falsifying, but only in the sense of rendering the Form fake and impure by showing that the Idea itself is constituted by difference. Vicediction is a creative technique of including in the case what is excluded in essence. Specifically, vicediction dramatizes a view of what is important in an event that includes the inessential and thus problematizes the given importance of the event’s essence. It gives importance to the inessential.

This is why vicediction is counter effectuation – it involves exploring the virtual network of connections that come together in a moment that elude commonsense, and thus involves critiquing commonsensical representations of the world. In

Ronal Bogue’s words, vicediction’s response to a situation involves “undoing conventional representations of our situation” and delineating and proliferating the differences that are interconnected and enveloped in a particular moment, thus revealing the singularity of the moment (2007, p. 9). However, Bogue is quick to point out that vicediction involves a second move since “the object of vicediction is not simply to comprehend the virtual differences at work in our world but also to transform them” by experimenting with virtual differences and

172 condensing the singular event to create new and unpredictable condensations of virtual differences (ibid.). Bogue adds, “Vice-diction thus entails both a process of exploring and hence constructing connections among differences, and a process of undoing connections in an effort to form new ones” (2007, p. 10). The first move is ironic, and dialectic in Plato’s sense of “proceeding by ‘problems’” (Deleuze, 1994, p. 63). It is ironic for making a problem and unsettling commonsensical principles and representations. Irony is, for Deleuze, precisely not negation but rather indicative of the “non” in “non-being” as something other than the negative. It is

“the being of the problematic, the being of problem and question” (p. 64). The second move is humorous for bringing the present as a novel response to the problem, of showing the moment as something different.

In all crowned anarchies together, in the sum of all such humorous and ironic encounters with figures, of every retrieval from an icon of a singularity as simulacrum, of every doctrine and the parody of every belief, lies the highest irony and the highest humor of eternal return. As such, crowned anarchy for Deleuze is a dramatic repetition in the play of eternal return and a condition for transformation in the eternal return. “Eternal return” Deleuze adds, drawing from the French writer Pierre Klossowski, “is not a faith, but the truth of faith: it has isolated the double or the simulacrum, it has liberated the comic in order to make this an element of the superhuman. This is why – again as Klossowski says – it is not a doctrine but the simulacrum of every doctrine (the highest irony); it is not a

173 belief but the parody of every belief (the highest humor): a belief and a doctrine eternally yet to come” (pp. 95-96). As a simulacrum of doctrines, irony is a matter of making new principles out of the multiplicities of differential relations that make up Ideas, an act of “grasping the Ideas and the problems they incarnate in things,” of grasping things as incarnations themselves, and of grasping things as cases of solution for problems expressed in the manner that the ordinary is distributed and divided (Deleuze, 1994, p. 182). Humor and irony are characteristic of crowned anarchy and in fact are those criteria of crowned anarchy that relate it to difference in the eternal return and the disruption of stabilized divisions according to models.

Sophists are both parodic and ironic figures that disrupt Platonic ideas of government and the organization of the city in that the very Platonic order of the good City headed by an iconic philosopher-king is undermined by their presence.

Deleuze describes the Platonic desire to hunt down the sophist and separate the sophist from true philosopher as a goal of catching and exposing every simulacrum, every fallen icon, “that devil, that insinuator or simulator, that always disguised and displaced false pretender” (p. 127). It is this desire to separate icons from simulacra – to distinguish philosophers from sophists once and for all – that, according to Deleuze, gives Platonic philosophy its moral structure in which action is about eradicating sophists and all such parodic, vitiating forces. Deleuze writes that in Plato’s work “a moral motivation in all its purity is avowed: the will to

174 eliminate simulacra or phantasms has no motivation apart from the moral. What is condemned in the figure of simulacra is the state of free, oceanic differences, of nomadic distributions and crowned anarchy, along with all that malice which challenges both the notion of the model and that of the copy” (p. 265). Not only does the Platonic good City depend upon the clear distinction of the philosopher from sophist, the Platonic tradition of the leader as icon, a tradition which persists even to this day, also depends on this distinction. After all, if a philosopher cannot be distinguished from a sophist, then the philosopher-king, to whom all turn for the ultimate identification of things in their essence, cannot be selected to lead the

City.

For Deleuze, in Plato’s Sophist, the effect of sophist irony is to push

Platonism to the point of self-parody. What the sophist is doing is vice-diction through humor and irony, to use Deleuze’s phrase, rather than contradiction. This is vicediction in the sense of vitiating, corrupting diction which falsifies, in the sense of rendering fake, any claim of being the image of a perfect Form and affirming some other being. Whereas Plato attempted to discipline the eternal return by making it an effect of Forms - in other words, making it the return of a model in the infinite movement of the sophist as degraded likeness from one copy to another we reach a point at which everything changes nature, at which first order copies themselves flip over into simulacra and at which, finally, resemblance or spiritual imitation gives way to pure repetition. All philosophers are shown to

175 practice in this repetition, and the foolishness of trying to universally separate philosopher from sophist is exposed.

Although they use different Greek figures to make their point, there are strong affinities between Deleuze’s depiction of the Platonic sophist as crowned anarchist and Foucault’s depiction of the Cynic parrhesiast as king of derision. As discussed in the previous chapter, in calling the Cynic Diogenes of Sinope ‘king of derision’ Foucault talks about the durability of Diogenes’ kingship in contrast with the precarity of kingship in its normal use, in the case studied by Foucault, specifically the kingship of Alexander of Macedon. Whereas Alexander depends on other things to claim kingship, Diogenes directly declares his kingship in the same sense that the sophists directly claim to be philosophers. And whereas Alexander is constantly exposed to a reversal of fortune, to the ignominy of being a clownish and derided king, Diogenes is always already a king of derision in that he has already made a scandal of himself, and by calling himself king he has already made a scandal of kingship as with Deleuze’s crowned anarchist. Alexander’s kingship is by divine right as Weber understands this term: the king’s right is of a particular kind, divine, in that he has to continuously prove his status as king to his following.2 It is this continuous reliance on proof that gives kingship divinity, and so here divinity marks a prevalent and never-ending vulnerability in kingship. The

Cynic kingship of Diogenes, and sophist crowned anarchy, are precisely distinct from Alexander’s kingship by being something other than divine in this Weberian

176 sense. The Cynic’s and Deleuzian sophist’s status as king/philosopher is eternal and robust because it depends on no judgment and is indeed capable of upturning the orders that support judgment, and because it is already born in the scandal and vice-diction of being something other.

Irony and parody drive action for both of these figures, the Foucaultian

Cynic king of derision and the Deleuzian sophist as crowned anarchist, making them dangerous to order. For the Cynics, as described in the previous chapter, this drive is evident in their motto parakharattein to nomisma which Foucault translates as “alter the value of the currency” (2011a, p. 227). For Foucault, defacing the currency is not about devaluing it but about changing the face on the coin, changing the coin’s effigy to a more adequate one so that the coin can circulate with its true value. This motto was used with reference to living the true life, and involved “taking up the coin” of the Platonic understanding of the true life

(Foucault describes Platonic alēthēs bios as unconcealed, independent, straight and principled, and incorruptible life) and modifying its effigy by taking the

Platonic understanding of the true life to the extreme in a similar sense to which

Heliogabalus takes kingship to the extreme. “By pushing these themes [of the

Platonic true life] to their extreme consequence,” Foucault writes that the Cynics

“reveal a life which is the very opposite of what was traditionally recognized as the true life” (2011a, p. 227). Through copy of the Platonic true life to the nth degree the Cynics make a parody of it, in Foucault’s words they make “the theme of the

177 true life grimace” by taking its principles “to their extreme consequence in a “sort of a carnivalesque continuity of the theme” (pp. 227-228). The irony of the Cynic taking up the coin of the true life is, of course, that in doing so they lay claim to

Platonic image of adherence to true life and change the face, the model, of true life through extreme and correct observance to the point of parody. Through meticulous parody taken to the extreme, the Cynic ironically shows the true life as something different, something other than the life that was said to be led by philosophers, and claims the Cynic’s own life as “stamped with the effigy of philosophy” (p. 245). This is not about showing contradictions in the principle of true life, nor about showing a contrary true life. It is about introducing true life as something different, as an other life. In a Deleuzian reading of Graham Burchell’s translation of Foucault’s lecture, Cynic derisory kingship, like sophist crowned anarchy, is about introducing une vie autre as an other mode of existence, l’autre monde as an other virtual multiplicity, and un monde autre as this world but radically transformed. It is a matter of creative vicediction, of guiding toward another world by the creative act of falsifying.

Foucault’s reading of the Cynic motto of falsifying the currency is about introducing difference in life through repetition as parody and irony. This is, I argue, precisely Deleuze’s reason for referencing crowned anarchy, specifically in

Deleuze’s reading of the Platonic sophist as an Artaudian crowned anarchist. It is hardly news that Foucault is influenced by Deleuze, so to simply say that

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Foucault’s king of derision is influenced by Deleuze’s crowned anarchy may be unsurprising to some. What is novel is my second claim, derived from the evidence presented above, that a different, alternative vision of leadership exists in

Foucault’s king of derision and Deleuze’s crowned anarchy, one that is asymmetric to the leader as philosopher-king. Where the iconic philosopher-king rekindles and relives a myth as the originary point of a circle within which all things must be tested to resemble a Form (or be selected out for not essentially resembling it), the simulacral crowned anarchist (and Cynic king of derision) returns difference within the highest irony of the eternal return, leading others away from the grounding myth and its very notion, and allowing for alternative conceptions of goodness and an alternative actuality.

Crowned anarchy is the act of doubling kingship. Rather than staking a claim to truth on the ground of a founding myth, crowned anarchy dramatizes the novel within the familiar with humor by extreme adherence to norms and through the irony of overturning the principle of the norm to which the dramatization adheres. Deleuze’s sophists, like Artaud’s Heliogabalus and Foucault’s Cynics, liberate the comic to make it an element of a superhuman problematization of existing principles, and combine the comic with the principle’s elements to create new norms that can serve as a guide. Crowned anarchy describes the act of creativity, one that can spread like a contagion when selected by others. In overturning Platonism, guidance still remains crucial to the introduction of the

179 new, but guidance is no longer about giving direction in this world – in the world depicted as it is – but in giving direction by a creative vicediction of certain myths and analogies that describe this world. In overturning Platonism, leadership as guidance becomes leadership as creative vicediction.

Evaluation and Crowned Anarchy

It has been shown that Platonic judgment is about the selection and purging from among claimants of those elements that do not essentially and intrinsically carry an Idea. This selection is conducted in Plato by recourse to myth. Selection through myth serves the purpose of producing and reproducing order within society, and privileges society-conserving transformative directions.

The philosopher-king in the good City is the one who is the last resort for judgment, who ultimately defines, selects and divides things for the city according to founding myths. If, as for Deleuze, social transformation can no longer involve recourse to founding myth but must involve the affirmation of difference and problematization of Ideas through humor and irony, then how is selection conducted in transformation? How do immanent social transformations go one way rather than some other? How do social formations achieve direction for movement and become guides for others? And how are disruptions of norms as events of vice-diction in crowned anarchy evaluated so that they may spread across

180 societies, or not? If faith in the Platonic Form as portrayed in the myth does not drive selection, then how are evaluations made?

The quote below from Difference and Repetition suggests that eternal return takes the place of myth in selecting differences in transformation as the production of movement:

With Nietzsche, it [the production of movement] is a theatre of unbelief, of movement as

Physis, already a theatre of cruelty. Here, humour and irony are indispensable and

fundamental operations of nature. And what would eternal return be, if we forgot that it is

a vertiginous movement endowed with a force: not one which causes the return of the Same

in general, but one which selects, one which expels as well as creates, destroys as well as

produces? Nietzsche’s leading idea is to ground the repetition in the eternal return on both

the death of God and the dissolution of the self” (1994, p. 11, my italics).

The reader is given to understand here that the eternal return selects difference in a theatre of cruelty. We can begin to understand Deleuze’s point by first noting that in calling the eternal return a theatre of cruelty Deleuze is once again evoking

Artaud who wrote manifestos for a theatre of cruelty characterized by claims about the world made for the purpose of unsettling reality “to restore to the theatre a passionate and convulsive conception of life” through “violent rigour and extreme condensation of scenic elements” (Artaud, 1997, p. 66). Cruelty, for Artaud, could be bloody but is not “systematically so” and is violent specifically in the sense of having a “severe moral purity which is not afraid to pay life the price it must be

181 paid” (ibid.). Violence in the theatre of cruelty in this Artaudian sense bears affinities to the haranguing and severe morality of the Cynic sect portrayed by

Foucault, as described in the previous chapter. As a theatre of cruelty, the eternal return is for Deleuze the theatre of violence so defined, and cruel in the sense of forcing others, through irony and humour, to participate in the vicediction of reality.

The eternal return is thus a theatre of cruelty in that some things must be forgotten and others taken up in its drama. What remains is to understand how the eternal return is said to participate in selecting the production of movement, in selecting transformations. How does selection work in this drama, in this theatre of cruelty? My response to these questions draws from Deleuze’s Difference and Repetition, Spinoza: Practical Philosophy and Expressionism in Philosophy:

Spinoza, and Daniel Smith’s “The Place of Ethics in Deleuze’s Philosophy.” In brief,

I propose that whereas selection is a matter of judging the play of myth conducted by claimants to being true philosophers, and so true leaders in the Platonic mode of leadership, it is a matter of affective presubjective evaluation in my Deleuze- inspired reading of leadership as creative vicediction.

For Nietzsche, the eternal return is the principle behind the transvaluation of values – the transformation of valuations from those based on a negation of life for some higher values to valuations based on an affirmation of life and the will to make active forces affirm themselves (the will to power). That is, for Nietzsche the

182 principle of the eternal return is an imperative: Whatever you will, will it in such a manner that you also will its eternal return. The eternal return is thus a practical rule for selective thought that frees the will from given moral codes. The eternal return thus offers an alternative criteria for selection to the Platonic Idea, but what is not clear yet is how the eternal return could become a working principle in actuality – how does one (an individual, a crowd, a collectivity) make evaluations based on the principle of the eternal return? For Deleuze, as for Foucault, this is a question of ethical maturity, not in the sense of taking on a responsibility to uphold existing customs but as a becoming-active in life. The transition to such maturity is related to the death of God (and realization that there can be no transcendental principles to follow) and the death of man (a willed destruction of man to deny the purely reactive life of “anything goes”). To understand the becoming-active of maturity further, the influence of Spinoza in Deleuze’s writing must be considered, as well as the manner in which Deleuze combines Nietzsche’s notion of the eternal return with Spinoza’s ethics.

Smith portrays the transition to becoming-active in Spinoza’s ethics in terms of the study of what a body can do (the body, here, as any relation of forces, but specifically as the thinking body). Bodies can be classified according to their mode of existence understood as how a body’s affects together with other bodies’ affects enter into composition. Affect here is presented in a fully material sense – it is the manner in which the results of encounters with other bodies augment or

183 diminish a body’s power, where power here is the body’s capacity to affect and to be affected. For individuals, the augmenting of one’s power through compositions

– as when one’s body enters into an encounter with food – is accompanied by joyful passions. On the other hand, the diminishing of one’s power through decomposition – as when a body enters into an encounter with a poison – is accompanied by sad passions. How two or more bodies’ affects enter into composition determines their specific mode of existence, and comparison of various modes of existence forms a basis for ethical differentiation.

How does one compare modes of existence as better or worse, and see any particular mode of existence as good or bad? For Spinoza, it is through understanding the nature of the power augmented from compositions of bodies that one can evaluate modes of existence. Power can be augmented in an individual as passive affections which originate outside an individual. Power can also be augmented as active affections, as affections that are partly explained by the nature of the affected individual. Every mode of existence fills its capacity to be affected, but modes vary in terms of whether this capacity is filled by active or passive affections. Only active affections provide a real and affirmative power of acting – passive affections only provide a power of being acted upon. As Smith states, “Our power of being acted upon is simply a limitation on our power of acting and merely expresses the degree to which we are separated from what we

‘can do’” (Smith, 1998, p. 262). This is the basis for Spinozist ethical differentiation,

184 and, I think, for the notion of ethical differentiation found in Foucault’s lectures, seen in the last chapter. Here, it is not the amount but the quality of power that matters for ethical differentiation, and the “best” mode of existence is that which deploys all its power of action and goes to the limit of what it can do. “Modes,”

Smith adds, “are no longer ‘judged’ in terms of their degree of proximity to or distance from an eternal principle but are ‘evaluated’ in terms of the manner in which they ‘occupy’ their existence: the intensity of their power, their ‘tenor’ of life” (p. 263).

For Spinoza, what is bad is to be cut off from one’s power of acting, to act based only on your power to be acted upon, and to exercise no agency over the other bodies with which you enter into composition. What is good, on the other hand, is to organize one’s encounters in such a way that your power of acting increases. How can we come to produce active affections based on our power of acting? This is done, first, by organizing our encounters such that they increase our joyful passive affections to a maximum and minimize sad passive affections.

That is, evaluation of compositions is a first step to producing active affections.

Second, active affections are achieved through forming and affirming adequate concepts through a process of reasoning that occurs in the domain of passions.

Spinoza presents three stages of maturity in the individual. The first, most immature stage, is when only chance determines one’s encounters and one exercises no control over one’s passive affections. The second stage occurs when

185 one works to maximize joyful passions, even if they are still only passive passions, by evaluating one’s encounters and organizing them. Lastly, the third stage is reached when one’s joyful passions induce a notion of what is common to one’s body and the body encountered, engendering a state where one can create adequate concepts and experience the joy of active affections.

Maturity, here, is about the capacity to evaluate the production of affirmations of adequate concepts in others and, once this first capacity is realized, about the production of such affirmations in oneself. What is presented here is a hierarchical, unequal conception of modes of existence, where some individuals may have attained greater maturity than others, but also where some individuals will affirm adequate concepts on certain subjects which even mature others cannot produce. The notion that the equality expressed in Deleuzian univocity translates to a categorical equality among bodies in action is, I want to add, a hasty presumption.

Evaluation in the Deleuzian sense occurs through maturation – from the capacity to distinguish joyful passions from sad ones to the action of affirming

Ideas through their intensive incarnation. None of these processes are purely philosophical or cognitive. Passion and reason are implicated in one another to such a degree that it would be a futile project to tease out the purely affective from the purely philosophical. What’s more, the actualization of Ideas in affirmation is an intensive process of dramatization that works in the domain of the sensible.

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Evaluation in crowned anarchy, in other words, involves the aesthetics of participating (even if only as audience) in drama. Sensibility or receptivity to the affirmation dramatized in crowned anarchy depends on passive affections in the encounter with the dramatization. It is not personal, representative, identities which evaluate affirmations, but sub-representative affects which depend upon maturity and the aesthetics of the encounter. It is for this reason that the eternal return can select and discard, but not in any predictable manner. The process of affirmation and evaluation laid out above is for Deleuze the theatre of cruelty whose effect is selection of affirmation on the basis of the highest humor of parody in every belief and the highest irony of the simulacrum of every doctrine. That is, as the whole production, the theatre of affirmation and evaluation in crowned anarchy, the eternal return selects on the basis of a belief in a doctrine eternally yet to come.

Returning momentarily to (an overturned) Platonic language: If crowned anarchy describes a distribution of trespassing claimants, a distribution of affirmative performances for the inauguration of something new through humor and irony, then selection from among these claimants is no longer the function of a philosopher-king who acts in accordance with a founding myth. The leader is no longer one who has achieved the position of ultimate decider of things by virtue of being himself selected into a leadership position. Claimants themselves are those who are in a process of becoming leaders by the evaluation of others. Evaluation

187 here resembles Weber’s “charismatic qualifications” and Foucault’s “ethical differentiation” (discussed in the previous chapter) where it is the listener who qualifies the nature of their relationship to the claimant. Leadership occurs to the extent that the relations between claimant and listeners intensifies into a composite of movement – to the extent that the listener, in organizing their encounters, enters into relations with the body producing affirmations that increase the listener’s power of action. I show in the next section that this composition of claimant and listener is described by Deleuze and Guattari as a pack.

While my argument in this section has been that the process of affirmation and evaluation for movement is leadership because it guides actions, it should be made clear here that one cannot speak of leaders and followers as personalized individuals in this context because movement within the nomadic distribution is pre-individual and affective. The allocation of identities of leader and follower only occur after the fact of leadership. However, in crowned anarchy, leadership is restored to its sense as the process of guiding others and of giving others direction for movement by vicedicting models, rather than of making final decisions about the nature of things for the purpose of guarding the city and thereby attempting to contain the inevitability of change, or making analogical judgments based on a representative authority.

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As an aside, I want to suggest that there is a tradition of political thought on leadership that, at least to some extent, conceives leadership in the mode of creative vicediction even if it is confused with leadership as guardianship. That is, while there is a dominant Platonic tradition of leadership as guardianship, there is also something of an overturned Platonic tradition of leadership as creative vicediction. I have already made the case that Foucault’s parrhesia belongs in this tradition, that Weber’s charismatic community involves charismatic qualification that has affinities with evaluation processes in leadership as creative vicediction, and that Artaud’s Theatre of Cruelty seeks to enact leadership as creative vicediction. In addition to Foucault and Weber, Machiavelli’s notion of Fortuna, distinguished from virtu as a form of leadership based on belief by which one can gain authority but not maintain rule, is consistent with the passionate investment of leadership as creative vicediction. Gabriel Tarde’s axiom that social imitation occurs from “inner to outer man,” from a psychic devotion to external behavior, also bears allegiance to leadership as creative vicediction (1903). Antonio Gramsci’s apposition of organic intellectuals with traditional intellectuals, where the former seeks to alter the hegemony created in part by the latter, speaks to both modes of leadership by guardianship and by creative vicediction.

In this section I presented crowned anarchy as the act of creativity that can occur in the eternal return, and evaluation as an intense, passionate process of affirming creativity as a guide for oneself and for others. In presenting crowned

189 anarchy and evaluation, I have shown that leadership as creative vicediction can occur in Deleuze’s philosophy, in a manner that agrees with how Deleuze conceives change is made in the world. What is left to consider in this chapter is how change spreads at the scale of small social collectivities. It is with this concern that I turn in the next section to the concept of packs in Deleuze and Guattari’s A

Thousand Plateaus.

Packs as a Transformational Force: From Analogous to Anomalous Leadership

Packs are small-scale social compositions that are brought together by the creativity of crowned anarchy. Packs are composed by those who are both actively and passively but intensely involved in the creativity of crowned anarchy. There are two well-known passages on the “pack” in Deleuze and Guattari’s A Thousand

Plateaus, both of which explicitly address the issue of leadership. I introduce both passages here, before further developing the role of packs in large-scale social change in the next chapter. In addition to introducing the notion of the pack, I seek to show in this section that packs share key features with Weber’s charismatic community as described in the previous chapter.

The first of these passages is in the section titled Memories of a Sorcerer, II in the tenth plateau on “becoming-intense” (Deleuze & Guattari, 1987, pp. 243-

248). In this passage, Deleuze and Guattari write that becoming-intense is a

190 process of social transformation through the inauguration of the new as something sensible within a social formation. As seen above, social transformation occurs through dramatizations in which Ideas are incarnated. This process of forming compositions of bodies for Deleuze is intensive in that it involves the affect composed in the creative act and its witness. As discussed earlier in this chapter both creating new norms and witnessing them is a presubjective, intensive state of being affected by dramatization. Dramatizations incarnate simulacra as fallen icons or impure essences, of fantastic hybrids or monsters that parody the purity of icons. Becomings, likewise, defy classification by normative structures, by genus and species in the Aristotelian sense. They are about becoming some other animal that disrupts the order of such classifications (1987, p. 238).

It is in this nonclassificatory, creative sense that Deleuze and Guattari write of becomings in terms of becoming-animal.3 For Deleuze and Guattari, “A becoming-animal always involves a pack, a band, a population, a peopling, in short, a multiplicity” (1987, p. 239). They write that the pack is the one form of social constitution that does not occur on the basis of filial relations. While hereditary transformations occur through reproduction, creative transformations occur through the contagion of passionate alliance-making, through a contagion of the composition of bodies’ affects. Deleuze and Guattari offer the form of pack contagion is an alternative means of social reproduction, different both from

191 participation in claims that are adjudicated by centralized authorities who act as contemporary descendants of philosopher-kings, and from familial reproduction.

Deleuze and Guattari begin the section of interest here by positing two principles regarding packs. The first is that social transformation in the form of becoming-animal occurs through contagion. The second is that packs always have a leader. They write, “wherever there is multiplicity, you will also find an exceptional individual, and it is with that individual that an alliance must be made in order to become-animal. There may be no such thing as a lone wolf, but there is a leader of the pack” (p. 243). Deleuze and Guattari give a proper name to this figure of leadership: Anomalous. Here, the sense of a leader that dramatizes something out of the norm remains, but other senses also present themselves. The anomalous can be taken literally to have no name, reminding the reader of the sub-representational dynamics of pack leadership. Alberto Toscano describes the anomalous as difference by difference, something unequal in itself and to itself, whereas Plato describes the Form as itself by itself, the thing in virtue of itself

(auto kath hauto) (Plato & Gallop, 1975, 64c-66a; Toscano, 2006, p. 158). This gives something more than a sub-representational character to the drama of becoming intense. It provides a standpoint for the interrogation of individuality and representational, identitarian assumptions. Another sense of anomalous, one that

Deleuze and Guattari are quick to present, is that anomalous as a word that comes from the Greek for being harshly uneven, for speaking from the cutting edge with

192 a harshness of tone, a sense that is reminiscent of “crowned” in crowned anarchy as something that has a leading edge that curves, turns and forces a changes of direction. This third sense is consistent with the Deleuze and Guattari’s statement that anomalous can be used as an adjective “to situate the positions of the exceptional individual in the pack” (p. 244). A fourth sense of anomalous would be that it is the fragmentary, depersonalized figure of ethical differentiation that arises in the social composition of parrhesia. In any case, the anomalous is the closest one can come to the figure of the leader in the overturned Platonic mode of leadership by creative vicediction.

In writing that every pack has its leader Deleuze and Guattari present an alternative form of leadership to centralized, State leadership (as descended from

Platonic leadership). This alternative form of leadership, in which the leader is anomalous, is a necessary feature of spreading transformation as contagion through society. This explains why the authors, once they claim that every pack has its leader, immediately proceed to concern themselves with explaining how a pack can at once incarnate the seeming paradox of both being a multiplicity and involving an exceptional individual. Deleuze and Guattari write, “It does seem as though there is a contradiction: between the pack and the loner; between mass contagion and preferential alliance; between pure multiplicity and the exceptional individual” (ibid.). The answer they offer to this seeming paradox is that in order to enter into a becoming, each pack member must make an anomalous selection,

193 an evaluation of ethical differentiation, and that this affective, anomalous choice necessitates an encounter with the Anomalous. The Anomalous is not, Deleuze and Guattari are emphatic here, a “psychoanalytic individual” – it is precisely this father-like image of the leader that they seek to efface in their description of leadership in the pack. The anomalous is neither the Aristotelian leader as representative as “the bearer of a species presenting specific or generic characteristics in their purest state,” nor the Platonic selected claimant as “the perfection of a type incarnate” nor a divine kingship on Earth as analogous to

God’s rule in heaven, “the basis of an absolutely harmonious correspondence”

(ibid.). Indeed, one cannot speak of the leader as Anomalous in terms of subjective attributes.

What anomalous leadership is, Deleuze and Guattari tell us, is “a phenomenon of bordering” as a social branching out, a folding of the outside into the pack (pp. 244-245). “Folding in of the outside” does not simply mean the inclusion or acceptance of that which is geopolitically or normatively deemed to be outside of a society, as some sort of cosmopolitan welcome, but the introduction of ideas that put into question the opposition of interiority/exteriority, man/animal, and specifically the folding in of the immanent and revolutionary potential of being. 4 The phenomenon of the Anomalous is, in other words, the enfolding of what is outside the nature of societal and pack customs through pack leadership in crowned anarchy.

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Packs may be long-lasting or fleeting phenomena, made up of all those bodies whose affects enter into composition in an encounter with the anomalous.

Deleuze and Guattari tell us that it is possible to classify packs by their encounters with the anomalous (p. 245). In moments of crowned anarchy during which creative norms are being formed, the point within the pack of greatest intensity characterizes the pack. Intensity may take place in a swarm of points, and each individual goes in its own direction even while remaining ready to reenter the pack, or the greatest intensity may occur at one individual, giving the pack the appearance of a defined, subjective leader. These characteristics matter in that subjectified leader-follower relations are affected by pack characteristics.

Packs multiply, combine, and compose themselves within other collective formations including subjectified, leader-follower masses that have the capacity to move whole societies. However small-group packs can have a strong effect on large-scale social mobilizations and societal structures. Societies should be measured not according to the individuals they encompass, nor by their distinguishing cultural characteristics. They should be evaluated in terms of their capacity to bear packs that fold in the outside and give direction to a society’s branching out beyond established horizons.

In the second passage of A Thousand Plateaus to address leadership,

Deleuze and Guattari distinguish the pack from the mass (or crowd). Influenced by

Elias Canetti’s Crowds and Power, Deleuze and Guattari write of masses and packs

195 as two types of multiplicity each with its own distinguishing features (Deleuze &

Guattari, 1987, p. 33). Whereas masses involve large quantity, packs have small numbers and restricted participation. Whereas masses concentrate themselves in a site, packs disperse themselves in distances. Whereas masses are characterized by a one-way hierarchy, it is impossible to fix a hierarchy in packs. “Doubtless,”

Deleuze and Guattari add, “there is no more equality or any less hierarchy in packs than in masses, but they are of a different kind. The leader of the pack or band plays move by move, must wager everything every hand, whereas the group or mass leader consolidates or capitalizes on past gains” (ibid.). Any one pack leader is only so to the extent that the last movement, that last outcome of affirmation and evaluation conducted by the pack was first affirmed by that leader. Pack leadership is not stable, nor is it central in the sense of being the basis for adhesion in the pack, but it is central in the sense of guiding, of giving direction to the pack’s movement. As we have seen, the leader of the pack works at the borderlines, at the “crown” (korone) or cutting edge, to give the pack its direction. But the leader of the mass exists explicitly and exclusively at the mass’s center, imposing upon the participants in the mass a certain subjectivity: “the mass subject, with all the identification of the individual with the group, the group with the leader, and the leader with the group” (p. 34). This is what gives masses their centripetal character. In the mass the idea is to be as securely embedded as possible, to identify with the leader and to “get close to the center, never be at the edge except

196 in the line of duty” (ibid.). In the pack, the idea is to look to one another for leadership, for direction of collective, compositional movement that persists amidst yet against the gravitational force of foundations. I return to the relation between packs and masses in the next chapter, to show how they participate in large-scale social contagions.

Packs are the smallest scale, intensive social formations of the creativity of crowned anarchy that have strikingly similar features to Weber’s charismatic community with the one qualification that Weber’s tendency to personalize the charismatic relation is patently absent in Deleuze and Guattari’s depiction of packs. Packs, like the charismatic community, can be made up of one or perhaps even one hundred individuals, but they are always limited in scale. Packs are characterized by a phenomenon of bordering – the most intense point of bordering in a pack at which new ideas give the pack its direction. The figure of the anomalous – the closest thing possible to the figure of the leader in the presubjective process of leadership as creative vicediction – inhabits the point of bordering. The anomalous, like the charismatic leader, is a point of intense investment in an extraordinary, creative production. A third shared feature is that both the pack and the charismatic community may be fleeting – lasting only for the duration of a single generation of an idea – or they may be long-lasting in a relation marked by the intensive, passionate evaluation or charismatic qualification. Lastly, whereas masses involve passive attention to a central leader,

197 in both packs and charismatic communities the leadership can occur at one point or be spread across the group. Packs and charismatic communities are ultimately different in that Deleuze and Guattari’s concept is created to demonstrate the possibility of self-creation outside of state modes of subjection, Weber’s conception is formed in the interest of introducing charisma to give value to modern capitalist societies. Nevertheless, it is important to recall that for Weber the charismatic community is the great revolutionary force of the pre-modern age, one that Weber feels must be resuscitated in modernity.

In this chapter, I have shown that there are two modes of leadership, one active in the Platonic tradition, and the other found in overturning that tradition.

Crowned anarchy, together with affective evaluation and pack contagion, comprises the alternative mode of leadership as the guidance of self- transformation by creative vicediction to the Platonic mode of leadership as guardianship of a prior subjection. While guardianship works by judgment according to myth or analogical reasoning, leadership as creative vicediction parodies myths and customary categories, fosters their problematization, and offers new Ideas about reality. While guardianship selects claimants as leaders and implicates all in a “noble” lie of founding, crowned anarchy dismantles all foundings. Whereas the follower is the passive witness of guardianship, with guidance by creative vicediction others can actively participate (or not) in alliances that spread a contagion of new conceptualizations. Finally, whereas guardianship

198 is a centralizing process of making cohesive collective subjects, creative vicediction is an unstable growth that happens at the borders of collective action, bringing in new ideas and thereby introducing difference into small-scale packs or social collectives. In the following chapter, I make the argument that sovereign authority comes from the conjugation of the two modes of leadership, Platonic guardianship and overturned Platonic creative vicediction.

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1 Korone, κορώνη, in addition to denoting a wreath, is the tip of a curve (as in the stern of a ship, the tip of a plough-pole, or other convex structure); the extremity of anything curved. Κορώνη is derived from the Greek κορωνός meaning curved or crooked (Liddell, Scott, & Whiton, 1887, p. 389). 2 “If proof and success elude the leader for long, if he appears deserted by his god or his magical or heroic powers, above all, if his leadership fails to benefit his followers, it is likely that his charismatic authority will disappear. This is the genuine meaning of the divine right of kings (Gottesgnadentum)” (Max Weber, 1978a, p. 242) 3 Much has been written regarding the ecology of this concept of becoming animal. See, for example, Haraway (2008); Urpeth (2004); Parikka (2010). My focus here is on the mode of contagion in any social collective and makes no claim with respect to species, although my broader interest is admittedly in human politics. 4 See Deleuze’s Foucault for more on folding, especially the Appendix (2006).

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Chapter 5: Creative Vicediction, Guardianship, and the Crystallization of the Sovereign State

In the previous chapter, I developed leadership by creative vicediction as an

“overturned” mode of leadership from that of the philosopher-king and representative found in the Platonic tradition of leadership as guardianship. I also showed that Foucault’s parrhesia and, with qualifications, Weber’s charismatic community, both studied in Chapter 2, are conducted in the overturned Platonic mode of leadership as creative vicediction. In the present chapter, I argue that state sovereignty is the product of the conjugation of these two modes of leadership.

My argument partly draws from a longstanding view in social anthropology, associated particularly with Edmund Leach, that within social relations there is a

“fundamental ideological opposition” between relations of incorporation, out of which group belonging as “we-feeling” emerges, and relations of alliance, out of which links develop with other groups (Leach, 1966, p. 21). There is ample anthropological evidence that both relatives and affines are attributed magic powers, and Leach argues that magic powers coming from these two sources should be distinguished (1966, pp. 22-23). Magic that affects we-feeling is

201 considered supernatural to the blood and bone that constitute kinship. This controlled, conscious magic is attributed to the deities and becomes marked on the body. Magic that affects affinal relations, changing perceptions of relations between groups, is attributed to fate and mystical influence and is both unconscious and uncontrollable. According to Leach, when the source of these two forms of magic, uncontrolled mystical influence and controlled supernatural bodily “attack,” coincide in the same personalities, two powerful forces of incorporation and alliance come together and establish political authority(p. 23).

In a recent article, Giovanni Da Col and David Graeber succinctly convey the importance of the coincidence marked by Leach, writing that the “pseudo-affinal relationship between king and the people evokes Leach’s argument likening the authority and influence exercised by relatives and affines to magical powers …

Whereas lineages (kinship) would be internalized bonds of substance, fate, grace

(and kingship) would be externalized ones: life from the outside. Here lies the metaphysical point of conjuncture of “kin(g)ship.” (2011, p. xx). When fate and the deity, king and kin, affine and relation, alliance and incorporation, mystical influence and myth coincide, sovereignty as political authority establishes.

In this chapter, I conduct a Deleuzo-Guattarian reading of Leach’s theory to make a case parallel to Leach’s. I argue that the sovereign state is the result of the conjugation of leadership by creative vicediction (whose “magic” is mystical for coming in from outside of customary knowledge) and leadership by guardianship

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(whose “magic” is mythical for playing with the founding myths of customary knowledge). To be clear, my argument is not simply that leadership is involved in the making of the state – that would hardly be a novel statement. Social contract theorists invariably involve some form of leadership, whether it takes the

Hobbesian form of manipulating fear to make reliable, responsible beings

(Connolly, 2002, p. 18) or the Kantian form of separating representatives who make law from an executive who enforces it.

My argument is not only that leadership matters in the making of the sovereign state, but that leadership must take a certain form for the state to result.

The challenge is to show that leadership is far from the result of a latent tendency toward subservience that easily slides into political authority. Leadership is not the unproblematic background out of which “Hobbesian” social contracts readily derive, and whose absence marks republican contracts. Leadership is something that always exists as both guardianship and creative vicediction, and I must show that leadership amounts to political sovereign authority only under specific circumstances regarding these two modes of leadership. A corollary to my argument is that denying leadership is neither necessarily desirable nor as simple as choosing representatives.

The chapter proceeds in four sections. In the first section, I elaborate

Leach’s theory, introduced above, of the inauguration of political authority. In the second section, I critically interrogate Sigmund Freud’s Group Psychology and the

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Analysis of the Ego, perhaps the single most important formulation of leadership out of which contemporary political common sense operates. I posit that Freud’s argument that imitation evolved from identification with the repressing primal father does not resolve but only covers up an ambiguity found in the principle object of Freud’s critique, Gabriel Tarde’s Laws of Imitation. What Freud covers up is an entirely different view of totemism implicit in Tarde’s writing, a view in which totemism is not about kinship but about creative vicediction. While Freud writes that civilized society in the modern, liberal state marks progress from monarchic sovereignty in that it constitutes another degree of removal from the father’s repression, an alternative view emerges from the presence of alliances through creative vicediction in totemism in which both the monarchic and modern liberal state are not the product of by primal psychic repression alone since primal psychic repression can be countered by creative vicediction, undoing its tendency to coalesce hierarchies.

Relations of affinity seen in totemism render creative vicediction as primal as relations of repression, and the critical question becomes one of how relations of affinity, relations by creative vicediction, are involved in the making of the state.

The task I take on in this chapter is to theoretically respond to this question and offer a general idea of how creative vicediction and guardianship conjugate to make the monarchic state. I apply this formal analysis in a brief description of how sovereign monarchy was established in Europe as the events preceding the more

204 thorough empirical, genealogical analysis conducted in Chapter 2 of how relations of creative vicediction were affected in the move from European monarchic state sovereignty to modern liberal state sovereignty.

In the third section, the thought that a primal psychic repression cannot alone account for social repression is investigated from a Deleuzo-Guattarian point of view. With this in mind, I return to a question left unanswered in Chapter 4, of how large-scale mobilizations occur, particularly in crowds. This is done by further developing the concept of the pack in Deleuze and Guattari from the previous chapter, with respect to Tarde’s totemism and Elias Canetti’s critique of Freud. The manner in which packs multiply and grow beyond small-scale groups is presented.

I demonstrate that such mobilizations occur when leadership by creative vicediction and leadership by guardianship combine, suggesting that the coincidence of the two modes of leadership is not by itself sufficient to produce the sovereign state; something more is required.

If the coincidence of leadership by creative vicediction and leadership by guardianship only produces the large-scale imitation of crowd mobilization, then an alternative account to Freud’s would need to show how the repressive state can ensue from the coexistence of both forms of leadership. The fourth and last section provides a Deleuzo-Guattarian theory of how creative vicediction and guardianship conjugate to individuate political authority. This involves distinguishing my own reading of the making of the monarchic state from that

205 depicted by Deleuze and Guattari. Whereas Deleuze and Guattari implicitly depict conquest as something that precedes the individuation of the monarchic state, I argue that conquest occurs after the state has been individuated. That is, I argue that if state conquest is the accomplishment of desire, then the monarchic state must already exist even if only in the form of a dream – a virtual, unaccomplished desire – and self-conquest as the creation of sovereign social hierarchy among the conquerors must precede the conquest of others. The monarchic state is first individuated among the conquerors. The chapter closes with a brief description of the conjugation that resulted in monarchic sovereignty in late medieval Europe.

This particular conjugation, I argue, was one between the Roman Christian Papacy and charismatic Germanic kingships.

Mysticism and Myth in Social Anthropology

Leach’s groundbreaking thesis is that affinity as mystical influence is “only a special instance of something more general, the logical opposition between unity through incorporation and unity through alliance” (1966, p. 19).1 Furthermore,

Leach argues that political authority emerges from the combination of leadership by incorporation and alliance. This thesis is resonant with another groundbreaking thesis, made by Ilya Prigogene and co-authors, that self-organization in complex systems is the result of both deterministic and stochastic processes (Nicolis &

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Prigogine, 1977, pp. 473-474). The general view here is that in social and nonsocial systems, it takes mechanisms of instability between stochastic and deterministic processes, between the controlled and uncontrolled change, guarding and guiding, to produce self-perpetuating systems.

For Leach, in any social context, there are two kinds of “magic”, one that is capable of creating change on the authority of the deities and another that makes change from an outside, mystical, previously unknown source of knowledge. When alliances are formed outside of and unsanctioned by systems of judgment, the unfamiliar relation that is produced by affinity destabilizes society by bringing in something that is outside it. If all that exists familiarly in a society is deemed natural, then this “monstrous” alliance must arrive from a mystical force outside both nature and godly super-nature, outside quotidian and religious existence.

What is central to Leach’s argument is that these two types of influence, controlled and uncontrolled, have different social effects. One refers to the dictates of an all-powerful God and suggests a non-consanguinal heredity, and the other refers to fate. One involves child-father imitative relations even in non-filial activity and the other is properly about alliance relations outside of blood ties. In

Leach’s own words, “uncontrolled mystical influence denotes a relation of alliance; controlled supernatural attack denotes a relation of potential authority” (Leach,

1966, p. 25). In the case of controlled magic, the implacable dictates of the deity can change the very substance of the group and the individuals within it.

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Controlled magic creates “we” feeling in groups, and also dictates relations within groups. The unreliability of fate, on the other hand, gives directions to those within the group that are incompatible with the dictates of controlled influence, constantly destabilizing the effects of controlled magic. The sense of fate that arises with uncontrolled mystical influence results in an outward orientation toward otherwise different others who by contingency share a fateful commonality, and toward another world of relations. As with leadership by creative vicediction, uncontrolled sorcery undermines the authority of controlled magic.

For Leach, societies differ in the extent to which sources of uncontrolled mystical influence overlap with the sources of controlled metaphysical influence.

Leach hypothesizes that when this overlap is presumed the source of the overlapping influence realizes its potential for political authority (p. 25). Leach finds that in the societies he studies (Kachin societies in northern Burma and

Trobriand societies off the eastern coast of New Guinea) the overlap is not often constant, and political authority may only be realized in certain functional domains, limiting the political authority of such figures as chiefs.

Leach, like his teacher Bronislaw Malinowski, is explicitly interested in countering the influence of Freudian oedipal relations in anthropology. He argues that political authority is not the civilizing result of a primitive totemism and primal parricide, as Freud would have it, but the effect of an aleatory combination

208 of controlled magic (as reliable, predictable super-nature), which speaks of the rules of an all-powerful god, and uncontrolled sorcery (as inescapable consequences), which speaks of the contingent moment of grace. This anthropological finding is highly relevant to political thought. Where controlled supernatural force through incorporation conjugates with uncontrolled mystical influence through alliance, political domination of the state form results.

Leach’s argument draws from J.G. Frazer’s The Golden Bough (2009), in which Frazer distinguishes sorcery from magic2 arguing that sorcery (as mystical influence) is expected to be uncontrolled and so when it does not work, when nothing remarkable happens, it is merely due to a lack of skill on the part of the sorcerer, or a neglect of practical rules on that occasion. If, on the other hand, magic as controlled mystical influence works reliably, then it is because of the preferential status of the magician in the eyes of the deity. If the magic does not work, then both the godly myths and the magician who applies them become suspect. Once again, we see that while leadership as creative vicediction is robust and invulnerable to doubt, leadership as guardianship, the play of myth, is vulnerable to derision and to undermining the whole system of judgment it is seeks to guard. As with Foucault’s Diogenes who can claim kingship without fear of being proved wrong, the sorcerer’s uncontrolled mystical influence, the leadership by creative vicediction, is robust. As with Weber’s interpretation of the divine right of kingship as being vulnerable to disbelief, the magician’s

209 supernatural attack as leadership by guardianship, is eternally vulnerable to belief turning into derision, to piety turning into cynicism.

Leach’s concept of uncontrolled and controlled mystical influence resonates with Georges Dumézil’s bipolar conception of sovereignty, based on studies of

Indo-European myth, as the conjugation of the magician-king and jurist priest. In his Mitra-Varuna, Dumézil writes that these two figures preside over the balance of a sacred chaos and order, of celeritas and gravitas. Celeritas creates while gravitas maintains. Mitra is controlled and acts under contract while Varuna is uncontrolled and binds in emergencies when the contract no longer applies. It would seem that Dumézil is not far from Leach’s “uncontrolled” and “controlled” sorcery. Leach’s contribution to Dumézil’s anthropology is, I think, his finding that the two forms of magic are kept apart in societies that have not fallen into the state model.

Dumézil’s contribution to Leach’s thesis, I want to add, is that Dumézil’s

Mitra-Varuna suggests a conjugation of uncontrolled sorcery and controlled magic. That is, it takes more than coincidence of these two in the same personalities for sovereign authority to supervene. Uncontrolled and controlled magic not only coincide but mix together to create sovereignty. In particular, there is a yoking that occurs in the mix such that the uncontrolled sorcery is given meaning in the domain of the society’s customary myths. The uncontrolled sorcery, what I term creative vicediction, is made to no longer trespass on myth,

210 but becomes another claim to truth in the play of myth. With this conjugation as yoking of the mystical into the supernatural, a stable conjugate is formed. Placing

Leach beside Dumézil, one can say that Leach’s sorcerer takes on the character of

Dumézil’s magician-king, and the magician becomes the priest-jurist. In the self- organizing system of the state that is the product of this conjugation, magician- king and priest-jurist make up the two poles of mythos, magical capture in a mythical foundation, and logos, administrated justice (1988, p. 64). Sorcerer and magician – I want to add, leadership by creative vicediction and leadership by guardianship – are now no longer objects in a society but combined and crystallized into a socially visible individual set apart from society.3

While Ernst Kantorowicz (1997) finds a duality in the sovereign body of the monarch, one natural and the other a divine body-politic, the combination of

Leach’s and Dumézil’s social analysis demonstrates that sovereign duality emerges from the overlap of two forms of influence. What is left out of scholarship on arcana empirii and sovereign duality4 is that the conjugation of two forms of leadership, Leach’s magic by alliance and by incorporation, describe the transformation from non-sovereignty to sovereignty, and also suggest directions for paths out of sovereignty.

Social anthropology demonstrates that there are societies which resist sovereignty by maintaining a separation between two forms of influence, and that the constitution of the state is aleatory, rather than a progression from more

211 primitive social organizations. It also offers examples of societies in flight from the state, and shows that even once sovereignty “takes” there is no necessity that it remain. Evidence for the last of these comes from Dumézil, who stipulates that even within states, the mythological figure of Indra, the warrior god, remains external and opposed to the conjugated sovereignty of magician-king and jurist- priest. That Indra remains distinct from sovereign duality is as one would expect on my account – the war god is the remnant of creative vicediction after the conjugation of the two forms of leadership, after the formation of Mitra-Varuna.

While all elements of guardianship are absorbed into the dual sovereign in a centralized monarchic authority, absorption of creative vicediction is always partial. In Dumézil’s terms, a persistent Indra stands opposed to the sovereign, and becomes visible outside of bipolar sovereignty as the god that wages war on sovereignty itself.

Freud’s Fatherly Horde and Brotherly Clan

I want to show that my conception of leadership by creative vicediction and leadership by guardianship is more than analogous to Leach’s sorcery and magic, and that my two terms generalize Leach’s insight to give political relevance to the presence of two modes of leadership. To demonstrate this, I turn to the target of

Leach’s criticism, Freud’s notion that a primal repression alone is enough to

212 account for political authority, and that political authority is an inevitable progression of social organization. I argue that an alternative to Freud’s account of totemism, found in Tarde’s Laws of Imitation, tells us that primal repression cannot alone account for imitation and followership. Rather than derived from primal repression, totemism is the effect of outward-looking, creatively vicedicting pack alliance, as described in Chapter 4.

Freud’s Group Psychology and the Analysis of the Ego takes as its target

Tarde’s term “imitation” to describe the process of crowd contagion. Freud argues that Tarde’s term is “imprecise” and that all imitation is the product of libidinal investments. “Love relationships” Freud writes, “constitute the essence of the group mind” (1922, p. 40). This, in itself, is in fact not inconsistent with Tarde, for whom imitation can begin with love (1903, p. 203). Furthermore, as for Freud, love for Tarde is the primordial, unrequited familial love of the father. Freud’s need to correct Tarde’s “imprecision” is curious given that Tarde would be largely in agreement with the point from which Freud embarks on his critique.

I think Freud’s finding of imprecision in Tarde is intended not only to provide a complex psychological theory behind crowd behavior but, more importantly, also conducted to seal-off the alternative mechanism to fatherly investment proposed by Tarde. The problem for Freud is in Tarde’s Laws of

Imitation, in its depiction of totemism. For Tarde, and consistent with my argument, there are two modes of imitation, custom imitation and fashion

213 imitation. In custom imitation a distinct, paternal magnetism characterizes the relation with the father, delimiting the intimate to the known life of the family.

Custom imitation creates a gerontocratic society, one directed by an epic past in which the great ancestors lived, and by a future beyond life in which a reciprocal coexistence with deities may be realized (Tarde, 1903, pp. 268-269). Fashion imitation, on the other hand, is driven by fascination for the outsider and results in a spatial, rather than temporal, curiosity. During these times no heed is paid to the past, but all around “sorcerers” proliferate and inventors become the center of epics. Under fascination for the outside, one looks neither back to the past nor forward to an eternal future, but outside to see a universe “whose boundaries are ever receding” (p. 281).

Although he problematically attributes inventiveness ultimately to the

“individual logic” of inventive personality traits (p. 382), Tarde’s distinction of fashion and custom imitation supports my proposition that there are two forms of leadership, particularly since Tarde explicitly writes that the imitation so vividly found in the inventive, threatening crowds of Tarde’s day (notably during the Paris

Commune), is a leadership process of invention (2010, p. 282).5 Additionally, Tarde recounts a different origin for fashion-imitation from the primordial father-son relation. Tarde posits the origins of fashion-imitation in the savage’s totemic relation with animals as “strange charmers” (1903, p. 271). Myths involving animal devotion strike Tarde as marking relations that are “independent” of the relations

214 with the father. Curiosity about the animal opened up a “new world” to the

“savage,” “a world outside his family,” one that could never have been ignored for

“the never-ending growling of savage creatures” (p. 275). Tarde adds, “This animal, then, this stranger, whose prestige he feels and yields to, tears him away from the exclusive prestige of his divine ancestors and despotic masters. And if the deified animal comes to take higher rank than that of the latter, it is none the less true that, far from this new cult being derived from the family cult, it must have been in opposition to it.” Additionally, whereas the subject views the father as all-knowing and the steady model of all desired behavior, the personified animal is “caprice incarnate” to the subject and resulting in a relation that is more changeable and dynamic in which the animal totem is beloved and yet can be fought (p. 272).

Tarde concludes that there must be two sources of influence in the world, which

“witness from the most remote periods to the action of external and contemporaneous prestige, the source of fashion, as contrasted with paternal prestige, the source of custom” (p. 276).

Tarde’s argument that there are two sources of imitation in the world, I suggest, is the real target of Freud’s critical reevaluation of crowd influence in

Group Psychology and the Analysis of the Ego. Freud offers an alternative explanation of crowd psychology that explicitly places all group relations under patriarchy, sealing-off the possibility for influence from outside the patriarchy.

Now, all subjects relate to “the father of the primal horde” who was not himself

215 subject to group ties, but was essentially “free,” necessitating two psychologies, one of the leader as the model man and one for everyone else (Freud, p. 94).

“Individual psychology must,” Freud writes, “be just as old as group psychology, for from the first there were two kinds of psychologies, that of the individual members of the group and that of the father, chief, or leader” (p. 92).

For Freud, in group relations libidinal investments are redirected in groups from one’s superego to the ego ideal, the “impression left behind by the personalities” of mythic, heroic leaders of groups (2005, pp. 148-149). This common libidinal investment among its members and creates we-feeling, a sense of identity among group members. For Freud, the leader as hero – particularly as Orphic, tragic hero in the mode of Christ – is a decisive factor in the formation of the modern group by serving as a substitute ego-ideal to the individual’s superego.

“[A]ll the features with which we furnish great men are traits of the father, that in this similarity lies the essence” writes Freud in Moses and Monotheism, “of the great man” (p. 173). Great men are known after the fact. If we prove not to be great men, according to Freud, we simply do not within us possess the traits of conviction, self-reliance, decisiveness of thought, strength of will, and forcefulness of deeds that are innate in the father (Freud, 1939, p. 174). Our story is different from that of great men; while the latter can have no history of individuation since his individuation is sui generis, the rest of us can.

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The commoner’s story of individuation, according to Freud, is one of a flight out of group psychology into a new system of judgment. Freud’s contribution to a socio-history of individuation is in his social analysis, in Totem and Taboo, of the rise of Christian individuality, where Christian individuality is the triumph of those subjected to group psychology by the father-despot – a line of flight out of the paternal system of judgment that then created a new system of judgment. In this familiar story, the patricide of the repressing father is the result of ambivalent libidinal ties of identification with the father and among sons who share the common emotional quality of identification with the father. Totemism is not about an outside influence, about animal guidance, but an expression of triumph over the father, remorse for his killing, religion in the form of remorse, and an attempt at reconciliation with the father. It also, in the form of the Orphic Christ, expresses the attainment of the place of the father by each son’s sacrifices for one another.

Through the blood bond developed within totemism, Freud writes, the “brother clan” takes the place of the “father horde” (1918, p. 241). If Tarde’s imitation tells us of the apotheosis of the father but retains an ambiguity with respect to fashion imitation, Freud’s development of totemism and Christianity tells us of the apotheosis of the brother. This is Freud’s depiction of the road to liberalism, when we have all sacrificed and become individuated gods with the prestige of reason.

With the apotheosis of the brother and totemic abstraction, the father is exalted into God and the demand for equality is no longer made of the despot – who, after

217 all, has been killed – but of an increasingly abstract, spiritual figure of universal wisdom.

Freud’s depiction of the psychosocial evolution of fraternal individuality out of group psychology is at once both socially critical and subjugating. It is socially critical in that it exposes individuality as the result of subjection to a father figure and the internalization of this figure into the psyche. For Freud, if we are modern then we are necessarily internally led. The process of internalization progresses from an entirely external primal father, through the totem, to an entirely internal abstract god. God enters the psyche as the superego, the ego ideal that observes the ego, contrasts its behavior with the ideal, and judges and punishes accordingly.

Freud’s psychology is subjugating in that any other mode of influence to the repressing father is disallowed. The figure of the father then becomes not only the prehistory in relation to which the individual comes into being, but also the figure at the future horizon, delimiting what the individual can be. Unlike Leach’s account of mystical influence from the outside, the father, on Freud’s account, is always and forever the only model for transformation.

Freud not only disallows anything but leadership by guardianship in civilized society, but also makes this mode of leadership central to civility in that civility necessitates libidinal investment in the father/leader as ego ideal (Freud,

2005Chs. 7 and 8). This is evident in the primal myth Freud offers about the formation of the superego through the coupling of Eros with the Death instinct for

218 aggressiveness. It is the Death instinct, according to Freud’s late work, that motivates the brothers’ primal patricide. If it was not for the superego produced in this act that observes, records and punishes noncompliance with the father-as- myth, according to Freud, man’s instinctive aggressiveness would disallow the formation of societies. “Civilization, therefore,” Freud writes, “obtains mastery over the individual’s dangerous desire for aggression by weakening and disarming it and by setting up an agency within him to watch over it, like a garrison in a conquered city” (2005, p. 121). As each individual has a superego in which the figure of the father continues to hold power as ego ideal, so every age of civilization has its own collective superego in which the power of the civilization’s leader, its father, lives on. This commonality among individual superegos is based on the “impression left behind by the personalities of great leaders” (pp. 148-149).

Myths of leaders direct all further truth claims for social transformation, and leadership becomes a Platonic play of myth, as the guardianship of founding myths. By denying an alternative mode of influence in totemism, Freud assures the dominance of Platonic leadership.

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Crowd Mobilization and the Coincidence of Creative Vicediction and

Guardianship

Elias Canetti, in his celebrated Crowds and Power, refuses to accept the concept of the father as primary individual in Freud’s group psychology. The importance of Canetti’s critique is twofold. Firstly, Canetti’s conceptualization of the father as himself an individuation out of group psychology discounts the

Freudian position that the father can carry an innate trait of inventiveness, leaving the inventiveness of the crowd an open question. For Tarde and for Freud the inventiveness of the crowd can be reduced to the inventiveness of the leader who always comes to the crowd as a predefined individual carrying leadership traits. If the inventiveness of the crowd cannot be located in the leader, then the question of the creative capacity of the crowd once again takes on a central importance.

To make his point that all individuals emerge out of group psychology, even the father, Canetti analyzes a case of the emergence of the despotic personality itself. This is the case of Daniel Schreber, the German jurist whose Memoirs of My

Nervous Illness was psychoanalytically interpreted by Freud. Through an alternative psychoanalysis of Schreber, Canetti argues that Schreber’s despotic delusions did not descend from a primordial and already individual Father, but were the result of paranoia. For Canetti, Schreber was a despot, the only difference being that his despotic rule was over a population in his psyche rather than over a

220 population within a spatial territory. Canetti removes Freud’s connection of the paternal master to a “primary narcissism” and in its place connects the despot to the paranoiac. According to Canetti, Schreber neither wanted to kill God (as do

Freud’s brothers in their aggressiveness), nor to be the one who sacrificed himself to God for the sake of all others (as does the Orphic Christ figure). What Schreber wanted, according to Canetti, was to kill everyone else, to be the only remaining claimant to truth by killing all rivals so that he is all that is left for God to behold.

Schreber writes in his Memoirs, “Everything that happens is in relation to me. I became for God the human being” (quoted in Canetti, 1962, p. 462). Canetti introduces an alternative view of the father figure, as a paranoiac who is himself emergent from group psychology.

As does Tarde, Canetti makes the case that crowd politics involves an activity outside of the Freudian leader-follower relation. To understand crowd politics, Canetti argues, one must recognize the presence of small and highly motivated packs. It is from Canetti that Deleuze and Guattari develop their conception of packs. My depiction of packs in the previous chapter is also influenced by Canetti’s work.

If, as Canetti argues, the leader as father-figure is nothing other than a paranoiac, then the question remains as to the source of inventiveness in crowds.

For Tarde and for his contemporary, Gustave Le Bon, it is the inventiveness of crowds that is most fascinating, and troubling. From 1848 to the Paris Commune of

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1871 and into the early years of the twentieth century, waves of crowds erupted in

Paris’s streets, sometimes transforming the state but much more often being dissipated or dispersed by force. Increasingly after 1848, the things that crowds invented were complex spaces of anarchism and communism, an invention Le Bon feared would destroy civilization and bring it “back to primitive communism” (Le

Bon, 1897, p. 9). Group members in public crowds appear to Le Bon as incapable of preserving the psycho-social heterogeneity, the differentiated forms, they possess in the civilized society outside the crowd. The group therefore appears to Le Bon as a “provisional being,” both destructive and inventive, formed out of otherwise discrete and “heterogeneous elements” (Le Bon, 1897, p. 29). Similarly, for Tarde, the crowd exhibits the capacity for spontaneous generation and organization when it is “electrified” by the “spark of passion.” In the mob, for Tarde, cohesion is made out of an initial incoherence, “this noise becomes a voice, and these thousands of men gathered together soon form but a single animal, a wild beast without a name, which marches to its own goal with an irresistible finality” (quoted in Borch,

2005, p. 90).

According to Canetti, the crowd does not take on the form of the mass characterized by bodies directed toward one figure, the leader, who possesses the capacity of suggestion by which to mobilize the mass into action. Canetti finds that crowds also exhibit pack behavior in terms that bear close affinity to those I describe in Chapter 4. Unlike masses, packs, Canetti writes, are characterized by a

222 strictly limited number, a chronic and stable state of excitement, and a drive to have more numbers regardless of what it is the pack is fighting for because the number in each pack is so few that any addition to the group “would really count in the economy of the group, in a way that scarcely any of us count today” (1962, p.

93). Although the pack strongly expresses the feeling of group unity, Canetti tells us that the pack member never loses individuality as completely as the crowd member.

Canetti’s depiction of the pack together with Tarde’s depiction of totemism speak to an alternative history to Freud’s in which totemism is the result of creative vicediction by pack alliance. For Tarde, a spirit of fashion compels an imitation unrelated to blood lineages and the rituals of heredity, such that that the soul itself comes to have a source different from the materiality of blood lineage.

For Tarde, the deity not only refers to an ancestor, but also to the animals the savage encounters who by their presence unsettle inherited customs and norms.

Thus, “when he found himself in the presence of any great phenomenon, a tempest, the phases of the moon, the rise or setting of the sun, etc., and when he animated the phenomenon in order to understand it, his spontaneous personification of it was more animal-like than human. For him to personify was to animalise, rather than to humanize” (Tarde, 1903, p. 272). Tarde immediately asks whether these animal divinities were not conceived in the savage’s own image but that of “those superhuman monsters,” and concludes that this must be the

223 case. There are two prominent kinds of deification in “old mythologies,” Tarde contends, “animal-gods” defined after fashion-imitation and “divine or heroic civilisers” as the individuated leaders of custom imitation (p. 276).

From his focus on the pack, it would seem that the inventiveness of the crowd is not found in the leader, for Canetti, but distributed in the pack. However, such a reading of Canetti’s crowd theory cannot hold. Outside of crowds, Canetti describes packs as being entirely incapable of growth. Things change when packs exist within crowds, when they precipitate crowd mobilization and become “crowd crystals” (1962, p. 18). However, Canetti does not explain how crowd crystals mobilize crowds. While Canetti’s critique of the concept of the innately inventive leader disrupts the Freudian notion of leadership in group psychology, it does not provide an alternative view of how ideas spread.

For Canetti, there are several kinds of packs, and not all involve encounters with animals. There are child-rearing packs, hunting packs, food-gathering packs, fishing packs, food preparation packs, sheltering packs, healing packs. In each of these collective relations one finds the guiding influence described in Tarde’s rendering of totemism. Tarde describes myths of animal gods and of paternal civilizers, but not myths of the warrior in the hunting pack. The hunt was a collective endeavor, characterized by careful coordination between members of a pack and moments of great passion in events of last-minute rescues, close calls, unexpected successes, fruitful new ideas, and feats of bravery, and surely also a

224 venue for leadership as creative vicediction, something like Tarde’s “fashion imitation,” an alternative to Freud’s imitation of the father.

Imagine, as an illustration of leadership by creative vicediction in packs that draws from both Tarde and Canetti, a heterogeneous group on a hunt. A pack within this group utilizes certain technique of spear-throwing which launches the spear high so as to drop point down in a manner resembling a diving gannet, but the norm in the group’s system of judgment is to thrust the spear forward. A herd of prey passes behind bushes and in an instant one of the pack launches her spear and others in the group watch as it swoops behind the bushes. This pre-subjective act has rendered palpable to the group the previously known but unappreciated behavior of the pack. Together with the spear-thrower and other pack members, the witnesses comprise a new pack of affective evaluation of the crowned anarchy of spear-throwing – an inventive act of “becoming-gannet” that is both humorous and ironic for involving a customary tool used in a manner entirely different from the techniques disciplined over years of tutoring. Fascinated by its gannet- anomality, non-pack witnesses to the spear-throwing affectively evaluate what they see, forget the rigidity of disciplined customs, and share in the joyful passion of their enhanced power. This sense of enhanced power is not caused by the success or failure of the crowned anarchy (the spear may miss its target). The joyful passion is an expression of an affective evaluation that is not dictated by custom. A pre-individual ethical differentiation occurs in this moment, in which

225 the spear thrower at that moment is not a woman, daughter, mother, or tribe elder, but an arm, an upward thrust, a contracted shoulder and a spear that launches into the sky, which together constitute a part of a pre-individual crowned anarchy, a sorcery, positioned at the border between the old pack and appreciating witnesses. In the spear-throwing, the pack’s momentary intensive shape, its gannet animality, becomes palpable to those outside the pack. The spear-thrower’s-arm- and-spear stands at the border, as the pack’s gannet anomalous, and the original pack, in Deleuze and Guattari’s words, experiences a moment of “becoming communicative and contagious” (1987, p. 238).

Deleuze and Guattari develop Canetti’s concepts of masses and packs to describe the functioning of the social transformation within the state. For Deleuze and Guattari, crowd mobilization is the product of masses and packs acting together. I want to add that mobilized crowds occur when leadership as guardianship and leadership as creative vicediction coincide but do not conjugate.

Masses work intersubjectively. Packs, as we have seen in the previous chapter, act pre-subjectively. Unlike masses, which are characterized by Deleuze and Guattari as relations between leaders and followers similar to those described by Freud in his Group Psychology and the Analysis of the Ego, pack formations are the result of presubjective processes of crowned anarchy and passionate evaluation. It is not

Freud’s group analysis, but Canetti’s depiction of pack behavior that holds in

Deleuze and Guattari’s portrayal of pack politics.

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While crowned anarchy, creative vicediction, describes the anomalous inventiveness of leadership in the presence of the pack, truth claims that are made within leadership as guardianship occur before a massive crowd. The individualized leader exists for the mass while the dramatization of crowned anarchy exists for the pack, and it is possible for both to occur at the same moment. In the process of crowd mobilization two movements occur that result in a change in the composition of the crowd. One is alliance between the anomalous and the pack as depicted in the previous chapter, and the other is the contagion in a crowd of the ideas or actions of an individual leader. This coexistence of pack alliance and crowd contagion is not necessarily a conjugation of leadership by creative vicediction and leadership by guardianship. It can be merely their coincidence. For Deleuze and Guattari, masses and packs should not be put into

“dualist opposition” and to obtain social force there will be “packs in masses, and masses in packs” (1987, p. 4). In the example offered above of the pack alliance of

“becoming gannet,” pack and mass coincidence might appear as an unstable mix of pack alliance as described above, and suggestion in the Freudian sense of following the subjectfied leader (perhaps the individual who threw the spear in the example or some other person deemed to possess the extraordinary spear-throwing trait) with self judgment from the perspective of this personified leader. Crowd mobilizations are often comprised of this unstable mix.

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The Sovereign State as the Conjugation of Leadership by Creative Vicediction and

Leadership as Guardianship

Leadership as creative vicediction and leadership as guardianship coincide to engender large-scale crowd mobilization, but – and I argue this second clause in this section – conjugate to create sovereign political authority. I make my argument by first describing the ideal-type of the Deleuzo-Guattarian monarchic sovereign state. This is followed by a critique of Deleuze and Guattari’s neglect of the problem of how the state is formed. I then present two Deleuzian studies of societies that are said to “ward-off” state formation and use this point of warding- off to embark on my argument. I describe the process of conjugation of the two forms of leadership below, including an account of the formation of monarchic sovereignty in late medieval Europe.

Monarchic Sovereignty as Deleuzo-Guattarian Ideal-Type

If primal repression is not, as Freud tells us, a primary social relation between father and son, then the establishment of monarchic sovereignty – a sophisticated form of Freud’s primal horde – becomes something of a puzzle. How do individuals come to be subjected by the commands of the monarch? For

Deleuze and Guattari, while primal repression is not originally social, it is a primal

228 feature of the manner in which the psyche’s flows of desire operate. Here, the psyche is made up of flows of desire (Freudian drives) which connect objects, halt, and circulate. Flows can be connective and thereby productive, inscriptive in that they record halted affective experiences, and consummative for having the effect of an agentive self. While the psychic function of recording does repress productive desire from “locking into habitual patterns of connection,” its role is to desexualize, halt productive desire, inscribe a record of its flow, and also record the diverse possibilities of how that flow might connect with others. The anti- productive properties of inscription – that is, the neutralization of the desire to retain a pattern of connection – give a freeing capacity to unlock connections. The image of psychic drives Deleuze and Guattari offer is thus qualitatively different from Freud’s Eros and Thanatos. Holland offers the comparison that unlike Freud, for whom psychic recording emerges “because infantile desire hampered by lack of motor control is unable to obtain the real object of gratification and therefore invests (“hallucinatory”) images of satisfaction instead,” in the Deleuzo-Guattarian image of the psyche, recording “first emerging as a transformation of connective energy itself, at the point when an identity between the process of desiring- production and a finished product has been achieved” (Holland, 1999, p. 32). While primary repression is retained from Freud, for Deleuze and Guattari it is neither primarily a social relation, nor is it necessarily geared toward an aggressive instinct to repeat prior gratifications. Indeed, repression can free desire from locking into

229 one connection. From a Deleuzo-Guattarian perspective, the existence of a primary psychic repression cannot in itself explain political authority.

For Deleuze and Guattari, the desiring flows that constitute monarchic sovereignty are specifically inscribed in such a way that they superimpose “the relations of conquerors to conquered over the existing social dynamics” (Holland,

1999, p. 74). While non-sovereign tribes certainly exhibit rituals of cruelty, what is striking about monarchic sovereignty is that it superimposes, over one or several already existing social collectivities, the extraction of tribute “for the sake of glorious expenditure on the part of the despot” (ibid.). The monarchic figure becomes the creditor who absorbs, distributes, or consumes the products of subjects’ labor (Holland, 1999, pp. 63-64). Through the centering orientation of surplus production, mobile and finite debts within the community come to be transferred to the despot. For the first time with despotism, debts become eternal for never being paid and always owed to the despot. Furthermore, these debts are not payable in the patchwork of exchange currencies developed through consanguinal and alliance-based relations, but must be made in gold which becomes an imposed standard of value, according to which all exchange must be made in preparation for payment to the despot (p. 65). Local valuations are thus

“overcoded” and imposed upon by the exchange value given by the despot’s standard. The despot’s face becomes the composite signature of all debts, and its impression on the despotic coin comes to represent the society’s infinite debt.

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Monarchic sovereignty works through the direct insertion of the figure of the monarch into an ancestral or sacred lineage, thereby subordinating tribal alliance systems to that figure. By claiming direct filiation with deities, only God or the ancient ancestor may now speak above the monarch, and even when this happens it is only through the monarch. Distinctively, in monarchic sovereignty a social organization forms in which only the monarch has a voice. For Deleuze and

Guattari, the repressive encounter between the subjugated and the subjugating in monarchic sovereignty takes the particular form of a speaking monarch and an observant subject. With the growth of the monarchy, the monarch becomes further detached and the relation becomes one of the written words of the monarch to be heeded.

For Deleuze and Guattari, following conquest, the conquering force takes on an affective posture of paranoia that becomes inscribed in the figure of the monarch (1983, pp. 9, 193). Like Canetti, Deleuze and Guattari repeatedly turn to the psychoanalytic case of Schreber to illustrate the microprolitics of paranoia, writing of Schreber’s extreme repulsive response to any real or imaginary aspect of life penetrating his body (Deleuze & Guattari, 1983, p. 8). In paranoia, every real and imagined threatening force is repulsed through counter-investments, and paranoid government takes place in a manner that is “ultimately apersonal, indifferently human and/or nonhuman.”

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Paranoid inscription involves intensely investing in all the forces of life, but doing so not for desiring production but to control that which threatens.

Commands are made regarding all aspects of life, but they are made from a detached and elevated position. Paranoid inscription involves investments by the monarch that are not oriented in accordance with conjugal and familial customs of the preexisting social system, and pay no heed to old norms. This allows for the creation of new social, artistic, technological, and scientific connections where none used to be, but the products of these connections are always oriented back toward the indifferent figure of the despot which desires that nothing be productively connected to it. Furthermore, at the same time that productive connections of desire are directed toward the central figure of the monarch, surveillance and persecutory mechanisms are projected outward from the monarch to subjects. This has the effect of instilling envy and resentment in subjects. Here, primal repression, for the first time becomes a defining characteristic of the social organization.

State Crystallization: A Deleuzo-Guattarian Analysis of State Genesis

Deleuze and Guattari’s depiction of monarchic sovereignty6 and other modes of social organization (barbarism and capitalism) is similar to Weber’s use of ideal types, with the additional specificity that they describe the modes of operation of the social flows of desire within despotism.7 This has the advantage of

232 providing a dateless abstract depiction in advance of concrete cases that avoids a notion of linear progressive evolution from primitive to complex social organizations. It has the further advantage of describing social organizations in terms of their relations of debt, the manner in which production is countered by an “anti-productive,” inscriptive force that transforms subjects’ collective surplus productivity into their debt obligations.

However, Deleuze and Guattari’s focus on the operative modes of anti- productive flows obscures the productive flows by which monarchic sovereign social organization comes to exist in the first place. For all of their depictions of how subjects might take flight from the monarchic state and capitalism, Deleuze and Guattari’s readers are left largely in the dark regarding how we came to be subjectified within social organizations in the first place. Two other characteristics of Deleuze and Guattari’s depictions of monarchic sovereignty compound the obscurity of a Deleuzo-Guattarian rendering of state formation. The first is that

Deleuze and Guattari repeatedly connote sovereign state agency in their descriptions. “The State” or the “State apparatus,” we are told, has no war machine of its own (1987, p. 355) but the state can appropriate one (p. 425), and the state

“comes into the world fully formed” (p. 427), creating modes of production including “agriculture, animal raising, and metallurgy” yet does not presuppose a mode of production but “makes production a ‘mode’” (p. 429). While, as I elaborate below, it is appreciated that the preexistence of the state is always a

233 presence, the agency the authors attribute to the state renders shedding even a pale light on state formation from Deleuze and Guattari a rather vexing project.

Deleuze and Guattari offer two reasons for not elaborating state genesis.

The first is, as mentioned above, that the state is always a presence. It even preexists monarchic social organizations and remains present in capitalism. The state is always a virtual possibility. If the unity of the state’s social organization is the outcome of capture, Deleuze and Guattari write, then it is “magic capture … because it always appears as preaccomplished and self-presupposing … That is why theses on the origin of the state are always tautological” (Deleuze & Guattari, 1987, p. 427). For Deleuze and Guattari, savage social organization is not state-sovereign because it is in the process of warding off state-sovereignty, and warding off the state necessitates a capacity to anticipate the state. The state in its abstract, universal form, as Urstaat, as idea, is always present. My response to this reason is that while the presence of the state in so-called savage societies is real in that the state is already presupposed (and anticipated if it is not warded off successfully), the state is still not (yet) actualized. It may be virtually possible for the state to exist, and bounded crystallizations of leadership as guardianship do actually exist, but the sovereign monarchic state is not actually present in such societies. If the state does actually exist in such societies, then perhaps it takes the form of a paranoid pack crystal, ardently trying but as yet incapable of growing. In any case,

234 given that savage societies do ward off the state, it seems fair to ask: How is the state warded off? I will return to this question shortly.

The second, related reason Deleuze and Guattari give for not accounting for state genesis is that the sovereign state does not progressively evolve into being, and the process of state formation is not such that one could think of stages of state development. The state is either here or not here yet. By the time the state is noticed, the moment of its genesis is already behind us, “a prodigious success in a single stroke” (p. 428). The sovereign state form, Deleuze and Guattari tell us, happens by “crystallizing” as a process that does not happen in stages (p. 433).

I agree that state formation happens by crystallization, but contend that if the state is the outcome of crystallization then this an opportunity for the study of state genesis rather than a reason for avoiding such study. To explain what I mean,

I must first introduce the term “crystallization” and its relation to individuation.

The idea of individuation as crystallization was developed by Gilbert Simondon, largely in response to the gestaltism of Kurt Lewin. Lewin, who non-coincidently conducted studies that founded leadership theory8 while living in exile from Nazi

Germany in the United States, developed “hodological space” as an analytic topography for studying the social field as an empirical milieu (Lewin, 1938). With hodological space, Lewin argued, it becomes possible to understand how behavior affects the characteristics of a social milieu. Lewin famously applied this analytic to the study of leadership styles, and argued that “democratic” leadership creates

235 social spaces of lower aggression than “authoritarian” leadership because the latter creates a tension of oppositional forces within the social space without allowing for exit. Simondon’s criticism of Lewin’s hodological space is that it presents the individual as entirely passive in his own making. For Simondon, the problem here is that Lewin’s analysis relies on and presumes a pragmatic theory of evolutionary adaptation. Presuming adaptation to be true, Lewin designs hodological space with no capacity for empirically analyzing adaptation even if only for the sake of verification. Thereby, a whole topology of individuation that precedes the behavior visible in hodological space escapes empirical analysis. Individual subjects and objects enter and leave fields but their creation is always left out of the picture.

Since Lewin only measures dynamics that occur post-individuation, not only do the figures in Lewin’s experiments have little say in what they are and what they become, there is also no possibility for understanding how technologies of power and knowledge are complicit in the process of individuation.

Simondon’s insight is that perception is inventive and the labels given to subjects and objects change as relations extending through the social milieu change (Simondon, 1989, 1995).9 If the incompatibility of opposing forces creates a tension as Lewin finds, this tension, Simondon would argue, is indicative of a possibility for inventive perception through problematization of the incompatibility, rather than being a predetermined cause for aggression. On

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Simondon’s reading, before perception as the invention of a form occurs, the subject-object complex and their relations exist in a metastable state in which “no determinism of ‘good form’ is sufficient” to tell what will happen with perception

(translated in Adkins, 2007). Within a milieu, the individual living being’s genesis

– as well as the milieu’s and objects’ individuated genesis – occurs as an invention of individuation out of metastable subject-object complexes. Simondon likens individual genesis to the dynamics of crystallization that occur with the introduction of a seed into a metastable milieu. Crystallization is sparked in the critical moment of metastability within a milieu, when the milieu is characterized by “disparation” as the “existence of at least two different dimensions, two disparate levels of reality, between which there is not yet any interactive communication” (Deleuze, 2004, p. 87). Once in the metastable state of disparation, the milieu is ripe for individuation and material (the crystal seed) introduced into the milieu may initiate crystallization.10 It is only when the sovereign state is crystallized that objects are individuated, including monarchic sovereignty itself, but also the monarch as leader. While there is some vague relation, there is no causal relation between the presubjective leadership process and the individualized leader. Certainly, one should not make the mistake of presuming that the individualized, personalized leader is the one who caused the individuation by performing the crowned anarchy of creative vicediction or the judgment of guardianship.

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For Deleuze and Guattari, it is pointless – and possibly worse, dangerously approaching progressivism– to analyze state formation, which after all occurs “all at once” with crystallization as theorized by Simondon. My response to this is that the very idea of individuation as crystallization was developed by Simondon so as to analyze individuation, and so the sovereign state’s individuation in crystallization cannot be given as reason not to study its genesis. It would, conversely, encourage such study. This need not, as I show below, imply progressivism.

I mentioned earlier that Deleuze and Guattari’s rendering of state crystallization is obscured by their references to state agency. A second – in my view more problematic – manner in which Deleuze and Guattari compound the obscurity of state formation lies in ambiguities in their description of how the act of conquest relates to monarchic sovereign inscription. Their depiction seems to imply that monarchic sovereign conquest is independent of sovereign inscription and so also independent of the paranoia which characterizes sovereign inscription, and even possibly precedes sovereign inscription. Deleuze and Guattari write that

“in reality one can perceive” the inclination for state formation, “the movement” of state crystallization when “one empire breaks from a preceding empire” or even when “there arises the dream of a spiritual empire” (1983, p. 193). Deleuze and

Guattari then add that state formation “may be motivated” by “conquest” or by a religious “internal ascetism” (ibid.). That state crystallization can be perceived

238 before the actually present state would suggest that the affective attitude, the paranoia, of monarchic sovereign inscription precedes the actual conquest and inscription. However, in the following pages Deleuze and Guattari describe the monarchic state entirely from the perspective of the conquered, so the state is always depicted as already there, giving the impression that paranoid inscription, and the paranoia itself, is subsequent to conquest. It is from the point of view of the conquered that Deleuze and Guattari write, “an irreducible exteriority of conquest asserts itself” (1983, pp. 207-208). The suggestion that conquest is independent of paranoid inscription and monarchic overcoding persists in classic English expository texts of Deleuze and Guattari’s political thought. Holland, for example, writes that despotism “results from the conquest and the formation of empires, and its mode of anti-production involves superimposing the relations of conquerors” (1999, p. 74). Paul Patton, likewise, characterizes despotism entirely in terms of the relations of filiation and alliance it creates after conquest (2000, p.

90). My response to the tendency to study monarchic sovereignty exclusively after conquest is that conquest is not – it cannot be – independent to the movement, the dream, the inclination toward state formation, and the study of the state would be much richer for seeing that state crystallization begins before conquest. After all, while it is true that the moment of its accomplishment happens all at once, the project of conquest takes time – it could take months and decades to conduct a military offensive or to convert others to a state religion. To be clear, this is not to

239 say that all warfare is about state conquest. The project of conquest may occur at any time, even in the midst of warfare that is not about sovereign conquest such as

Germanic tribe migratory wars in a disintegrating Roman Empiric space.

Seeing sovereign conquest as subsequent to state crystallization is important in that it resituates the study of state genesis to the conquerors’ subject- position. With this move, a different temporal division between the existence and non-existence (in reality if not in actuality) of the state is revealed. While the monarchic state always arrives all-at-once for everyone, conquerors and conquered, the perspective of the conquerors is distinct for situating state crystallization at the moment of the realization of an paranoid social relations among the conquerors prior to conquest, rather than at the moment of the paranoid inscription others following conquest – one can call this a moment of

“self-conquest.” Before the affect of paranoia, there is no project to actualize the state form. Once the conqueror’s social milieu is itself characterized by paranoia, the project of state formation exists, even if only as a dream. Certainly, one does not have to share in the paranoia to see its arrival – as Deleuze and Guattari write, the moment of arousal of a dream of empire can be perceived even by a witness who does not share the paranoia – but even then what is witnessed is a transformation of affective valence to paranoia. This is important for two reasons both of which are neglected by Deleuze and Guattari. The first is that a willingness to see state crystallization from the perspective of the conquerors provokes the

240 question of how the milieu’s paranoid valence comes to be. The second is that this perspective substantiates the social relations that exist within the conquering force. For one, it allows us to inquire into the direction of conquest. It allows us to ask: Why do conquerors seek to conquer certain others? Monarchic state crystallization is certainly driven by paranoia, but paranoia is not an abstract emotion and persecutory beliefs are always directed toward some source. Seeing state genesis from the perspective of the conqueror gives substance to both paranoid conquest and paranoid inscription.

The Leadership of Warding-Off State Crystallization

On the understanding that it is possible to conceive of a time when the state form does not actually exist, even if it exists as a virtual possibility as a

“condition of the [intrinsic] genesis of real experience” (Smith & Protevi, Spring

2013), and on the understanding that conquest is endogenous to the process, I proceed below with an enquiry into the crystallization of sovereign authority. I do so in two steps. I first consider how warding off the state is conceived by Deleuze and Guattari and by Holland in his recent book, Nomad Citizenship. Finding that warding off is a process of separating two forms of leadership, I insert my

Deleuzian conception of two modes of leadership into this narrative. I then offer an ideal typical conception, in Simondonian terms of individuation-invention, of state crystallization by the conjugation of the two modes of leadership, that is, by

241 giving meaning to the act of creative vicediction in the domain of society’s customary myths by making it a new founding myth.

Referring to Pierre Clastres’ ethnographic accounts of acephalous societies in their “Treatise on Nomadology,” Deleuze and Guattari write that mechanisms of warding off and keeping the state from crystallizing are integral to chieftainship in primitive societies (1987, p. 357). They describe the primitive chief as having to rely entirely on a sense of the group’s desires to maintain prestige, since the chief has no weapons and no other means of persuasion. As with Weber’s divine right of kings, and as in leadership as guardianship, the chief in Clastres’ primitive society, like “a leader or star,” is “always in danger of being disavowed” (ibid.). If the chief is complicit in warding off state genesis, this is even more so, according to Deleuze and Guattari’s reading of Clastres, of war. The warrior is fated to a “prestigious but powerless death” as he accumulates exploits and war itself segments society too much and too often makes shifting alliances to accommodate state formation.

Deleuze and Guattari find similar mechanisms of persuasion without the power to coerce or subjectify, and of multiple shifting alliances, in Bogotá street gangs and in high-society relations. Deleuze and Guattari find that such mechanisms are widespread, and I would argue refer to leadership as creative vicediction in writing that “[e]ven in bands of animals, leadership is a complex mechanism that does not act to promote the strongest but rather inhibits the installation of stable powers, in favor of a fabric of immanent relations” (p. 358).

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The two modes of leadership implicit in Deleuze and Guattari’s account are made explicit by Holland in a passage in Nomad Citizenship that radically redirected my own investigations of leadership. Holland writes that primitive societies “oscillate between two modes of organization and leadership, depending on the circumstances” (2011, p. 33). Holland’s depiction of the chief is similar to

Deleuze and Guattari’s with the addition that he specifies the chief’s role of provision as well as persuasion – by persuasion but also generous compensation, the chief “mollifies injured parties, redistributes wealth, and thereby restores a measure of harmony to the group” (p. 34). Holland specifies the warrior as one who assumes the role of chieftain in times of external conflict, and “organizes a band of other warriors under his command to protect the group at large from an external threat” (ibid.). For Holland the warrior chieftain, like the chief as civil provider, is also vulnerable to disavowal by others, and his call to arms can simply be ignored. Together with the chief and warrior chieftain, the acephalous society constitutes, in Holland’s complex dynamical terms, “a kind of basin of more or less egalitarian, horizontal relations, punctuated by two less than egalitarian, vertical attractors” (ibid.). The society functions more toward one or the other attractor,

“depending on whether the threat arises from the inside or the outside” (ibid.), but only when “a critical threshold of tension has been reached” (p. 35). At other times, the society’s egalitarianism dominates.

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There is a certain sensitivity in both Deleuze and Guattari’s and Holland’s treatment of the transition from “acephalous” to state society. Deleuze and

Guattari express this as a concern that this society not be hypostasized into a preexisting basis out of which state society evolves, even if abruptly and all at once

(1987, p. 359). For Deleuze and Guattari, conceiving primitive society in this way would still be evolutionist, and worse, would refashion the state of nature into a fully social reality in an abrupt evolution from bands, or “acephalous” societies, to kingdoms (ibid.). Deleuze and Guattari insist that, firstly, the so-called primitive society is a pure concept and, secondly, that no society has ever existed that is properly exterior and irreducible to the state (p. 360). Importantly, their point is that exteriority only exists during moments of metamorphosis within (or rather, by definition, at the boundary of) a society (ibid.).

The sensitivity plays out differently in Holland’s account, which to my knowledge is the first Deleuzo-Guattarian development of the role of leadership in warding off the state. From the concern that his account might be read as evolutionist, Holland turns to Derrida’s essay on the “Force of Law” in which state founding “necessarily entails an illegitimate use of force or act of violence” (2011, p.

35). In turning to Derrida’s essay, Holland places “the violent conquest of one people by another” as an act that occurs in between the state’s warding off in

“acephalous” societies and the state’s arrival as “the imposition of permanent rule by one group over another” (ibid.). Holland argues that this violence is covered up,

244 screened, by contract theory. Once again, we see the depiction of a project of conquest or some other sort of violence as occurring outside of and prior to the paranoid affective valence of the imposition of rule.

While Holland’s insight that the limited authority of two leadership modes plays a key role in warding off the state is an influence central to my own development of the political importance of leadership, I have a problem with

Holland’s insertion of Derrida’s “Force of Law” in the midst of state formation. I will pose my problem with Derrida’s essay in two ways. The first is a Foucaultian criticism drawn from Foucault’s essay responding to Derrida’s Cogito and the

History of Madness (Foucault, 1998). This is that, by making a critique of violence as the idea of justice illegitimate, “madness” for “operating on the basis of an infinite ‘idea of justice’” (Derrida, 1990, p. 965), Derrida disallows vicediction that refuses to affirm some (other) aspect of present-day justice. On Derrida’s account, it is madness to make wholesale critique of all justice, of all present-day instantiations of justice, yet critique must be made, one must participate in a

“positioning” which involves both critique and guarding (“conservation”) of existing law (p. 997). To position is to dream and to dream of a justice to come is good. To falsify is to participate in the madness of decision, and decision of injustice is bad. Therefore we must, on Derrida’s account, act between the limits of guarding and dreaming but never go beyond dreaming into madness. The problem with Derrida’s teaching is that his implication of a spectrum from conservation to

245 madness with dreaming at some point in between, as Foucault has shown, is false.

Foucault writes, “the establishment of nonmadness (and the rejection of the test

[for madness]) is not continuous with the test of sleep (and the observation that one is perhaps asleep)” (1998, p. 401). Dream-positioning is not a stopping point on a line between conservation and madness. In claiming that it is, Derrida introjects fear into dreams, installs doubt in the sanity of dreams, and teaches an attitude of guardianship for the judgment of dreams according to sovereign myths.

The second way I pose my problem with Derrida’s essay is my own. My problem is that Derrida makes a play of vantage points in his analysis. At one point, Derrida accomplishes a divine straddle of both sides of state formation to look at once at the messianic promise of the idea of justice and at the moment that follows state formation. Derrida correctly claims that in neither of these cases is there is a “moment at which a decision can be called presently and fully just” (p.

963), but then remains at his divine vantage point to proclaim that a performative statement that does not found itself on anterior performatives, whether a messianic promise or the first legislation made upon founding “always maintains within itself some irruptive violence” in that it “no longer responds to the demands of theoretical rationality” (p. 969). Yet, Derrida claims to be “keeping such a distance” from the horizon of “the Kantian regulative idea” and the “messianic advent” (p. 967), in other words, from the horizon at the conqueror’s first inclination to state formation and from the horizon at the moment of a first

246 performative statement after state founding. That Derrida is keeping a distance from these horizons is not credible to me because Derrida assumes that they are horizons of the same type, and that what is to be found at such a horizon is a violence of one or another version. Derrida also takes the vantage point of the witness to the “irreducible singularity” of messianism that promises another world, and of the witness to the “law of irreducible competition” of claimants to truth in that other world who look back to its founding myth (ibid.). Looking toward the horizon of state formation, what Derrida glimpses from both of these vantage points is, once again, violence. If the foundation of authority is mystical, in

Montaigne’s words, then Derrida only screens its mysticism with the myth of violence. Derrida’s play with vantage points is nothing but a play on the old myth of founding violence. My problem is not necessarily that Derrida finds violence at the horizons, but that the violence Derrida finds is inscrutable, as much a screen as

Holland finds in the myth of the social contract. Nothing more need be said about the violence of founding, we are to be taught, but that it is violent. 11 It is an overdetermined violence; violent for beginning with a messianic performative statement that is undecidable, and violent again for ending with an original regulative act that has state foundation as its horizon of expectation. On Derrida’s account, regardless of differences between these forms of violence they are both violence of the “same type” and that is all we need to know.

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Leadership and the Crystallization of Sovereignty

I think that the violence of state founding can be further substantiated by closer inspection of its horizons than Derrida would seem to tolerate. Assuming that state conquest of others is described as crystallization (not so far from

Derrida’s own “precipitation”), then my interest is to inquire as to the nucleation

(initial crystallization) of the conquerors’ own inclination toward state formation, an inclination that precedes state formation as the conquest of others. While

Deleuze and Guattari, and Holland, rely on Clastres’ two leadership figures of the warrior chieftain and primitive society chief in their depictions of how the state is warded off, I begin my inquiry by inserting the two leadership modes I developed in the previous chapters in the place of Clastres’. I support this insertion with two related arguments.

The first defense for inserting leadership as creative vicediction and leadership as guardianship is that I find Clastres’ division of leadership by separating peacetime and wartime functions arbitrary, particularly if both leadership forms are about guardianship against a threat to the society’s stability, one internal and the other external. Dividing leadership between peace and war is entirely functional, and no more meaningful than dividing between, say, leadership in agriculture and leadership in architecture. My second argument is that the two modes of creative vicediction and guardianship respectively generalize and develop Leach’s distinction between leadership as mystical

248 influence and leadership as metaphysical attack (with mystical leadership directing behavior that is incompatible with those myths for making alliances with others and metaphysical leadership grounded in customary myths for the incorporation of subjects). The division here is between the mythical and the mystical, the ground of customary knowledge and that which is outside, between incorporation and alliance, and the guardianship of myths and the vicediction of myths. For the present purpose, the most important addition in my development of leadership as compared to Leach’s depiction is that leadership by creative vicediction is characterized by an affective valence of humor and irony, while leadership by guardianship is characterized by doubt about the claimant’s worthiness to lead and vulnerability to judgment by others.

I contend that sovereign political authority nucleates when the act of creative vicediction conjugates with guardianship’s play of myth to make a new founding myth. When the act of vicediction is judged to be a true claim to truth, and the claimant is judged to be a true lover of truth, a true philosopher, then the vicediction is resolved by making it a new founding myth, and sovereign political authority commences its crystallization. At this moment, the affective valence of humor and irony in leadership by creative vicediction conjugates with the affective valence of doubt in leadership by guardianship, and the conjugate of these affective valences, paranoia, seeds the metastable milieu to nucleate (initially crystallize) the state. The moment of state genesis is inscrutable because it

249 involves a crystallization out of which individuals, particularly the sovereign person and the sovereign state, are produced. This is, as Derrida contends, a violence. However, what is most unspeakable of this violence is that it is the product, in Foucault’s terms, of techniques of the self. This, I believe, gives punch to Foucault’s unwillingness to take the side of society against the state, as discussed in Chapter 3. In a collective way, we ourselves produce our own oppression. This suggests that it is through confronting ourselves in society that we can confront our own oppression. My reading of Deleuze and Guattari places the political moment – the moment of creative vicediction – before the reproduction of the state, as a moment in which the ways of society are made into a problem. This is not at all to say that politics is not possible when the state is already deemed to exist. On the contrary, my point is that politics against the state is the pre-state politics of confronting society directly even in the midst of sovereign reproduction.

To illustrate the genesis of political authority, consider for the last time the hunting group and its coincidence of leadership by creative vicediction (pack alliance) and guardianship (mass contagion). Following from the previous example, imagine now that gannet-style spear throwing gains a reputation of sorcery in the tribe and those proficient in its use come to be regarded as sorcerers for adeptly applying a knowledge outside of custom. Perhaps the traditional thrusting movement had been attributed to an ancient ancestor-god, and the

250 spear-swooping movement destabilizes the authority of this god, related tribal customs, and of the chiefs who teach this method. Those who ally with the spear- swooping spread not only the technique itself, but also the irony and humor with which it is practiced – irony for problematizing tribal customary myths and humor for the novel, unauthorized use of a familiar object deemed a sacred gift by the grace of great ancestors. Attempts are made to reinterpret customary narratives as suitable to judge spear-swooping. Perhaps an attempt is made to authorize this method only on certain occasions or by certain members or sectors of society.

Perhaps the ancient god will try to be reinterpreted as having used this technique.

In any case, the point is that the technique is practiced in this society in an unstable coincidence of vicediction and guardianship, or “fashion” and “custom” in

Tardean terms. However, this coincidence can change into conjugation if, for example, individuals arise who lay claim to ancestral greatness by virtue of their inspired spear-swooping. Then, rather than vicedicting and unsettling customary myths, the spear-swooping motion might be presented as proof that those myths must be reimagined to incorporate the miracle of spear-swooping. Perhaps some previously deemed to possess spear-swooping sorcery lay claim to (or are made to lay claim to by followers) the ancestral lineage by presenting themselves as inheritors of ancestral greatness. In doing so, they conjugate the prior coincidence of guardianship and vicediction. Now, the vicediction itself comes to be a claim with the leader as claimant, and the humor and irony associated with the

251 vicediction turns into paranoia as the technique becomes proof of a newly actualized authority. Conjugation is always a capture, as in a capture of ancient myths by those proclaiming a new way, a capture and incorporation of the new and different by custom, and as in a mutual attraction in which the agent of capture remains indiscernible. With conjugation, vicediction and guardianship are made into one new myth, mystical influence is incorporated with metaphysical attack, and that which is outside of custom becomes the mainspring and original source to ancestral supernature. This occurs all at once in a nucleation and its mark is the onset of paranoia.

Leadership and Monarchic Sovereignty in Europe

There is good evidence that the conjugation of leadership as creative vicediction and guardianship occurred in the commencement of European monarchic sovereignty.12 The key move here was in the conjugation of Romanized

Christian Scholasticism with charismatic Germanic kingship by the insertion of kingly divine into the Scholastic tradition. Until this conjugation, Germanic charismatic kingship with its essential basis in charismatic authority was a persistent presence that unsettled Roman Christian doctrine, a presence even in the political center of the Roman Empire.

Medieval historians recognize that a transformation occurred in late antiquity of barbarians from “nuisances and threats” in the Empire to “people with

252 a past and perhaps even a future” in the Roman space (Goffart, 1980, p. 31). The disintegrating empire, on this view, served as a central venue in which a newly powerful church deeply steeped in Roman tradition made initial contact with the seemingly incompatible barbarian. The yoking of the Goths, who at first adopted heretical Arianism even when they did convert, and other tribes into Roman

Christian tradition was a slow and halting process. While Gothic Arian rule in the sixth century officially excluded a diversity of religious beliefs, the majority of pagans saw the barbarian as “companion in arms” against Christianity (Wolfram,

1990, p. 16). For Amali, Burgundians and other Germanic tribes, charisma in warfare (variably taikneis, fauratani, quasi fortuna, hendinos, even pagan hailig as luck) was essential for kingly stature, and the importance of charisma was evident to Christian Romans for whom the Visigoth king Alaric I seemed “possessed by a demon who forced him to destroy Rome” (Wolfram, 1990, p. 108). Charisma gave the king the legitimacy to be “foremost” in the Ding (Thing or governing assembly)

(Chaney, 1970, p. 21).

As bishoprics spread throughout the space of the Empire and beyond, a

Romanized clergy increasingly involved itself with the production of specula principum, “mirrors for princes,” which sought to guide kings in their rule.

However, the most important aspect of incorporating Germanic kingship came in the Scholastic tradition contemporary to these mirrors, from Augustine to

Aquinas, in which kingly charisma became a divine right. Key in this respect, is

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Gelasius I’s “doctrine of two swords,” in 494 CE, according to which kings were lent temporal power, one sword, by the pope, while the pope retained the other sword of spiritual power which evolved, for example in the Gregorian reformation, into sophisticated hierarchies of kings with respect to lesser nobles and popes to clergy. A concerted effort was made in medieval Europe to convert kings to

Christianity and to officialize a place for kings in Christian doctrine.

My account of the crystallization of the state is supported by this empirical evidence. Monarchic sovereignty is the result of the conjugation of Roman

Christian doctrinal guardianship and a vicedicting Germanic charismatic kingship.

Over centuries of leadership as guardianship, kingly charisma was conjugated with

Roman Christian theological doctrine in iterations of leadership as guardianship by theologians and Papal leaders. A key aspect of Germanic kingship is that while it loosely followed hereditary succession once familial charisma was established, kingship fell to all sons and territories were often divided accordingly. This led to a distinct, outward alliance-and-rivalry relation among the Germanic gens that survived the conjugation into sovereign monarchy. In the words of the historian

Nora Berend, “two developments coincided in time: as Christianity was introduced, local rulers also consolidated their power over these areas [areas under the leadership of their own elite]” (Berend, 2010, p. 1). However, the Christian kingships that developed were not uniform, having variations depending, among other things, on the tribal customs specific to the area (Berend, 2010, p. 2).

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Christianity spread in Europe through a nobility that came to see its authority not on the basis of charisma but of divine right. Wherever it appeared, from Clovis I to

Charlemagne, early Christian kingship is marked by a transformation to monarchic sovereign authority.

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1 Joshua Delpech-Ramy (2010) elaborates on Deleuze’s own interest in the universality of sorcery as the position taken by those “in the cutting edge of the unknown.” 2 Fraser uses the term magic for Leach’s sorcery and religion for magic but the meanings still carry. 3 Agamben (2011)offers yet another analysis of the conjugation of logos and mythos, which he terms somewhat confusingly as the “kingdom” and the “glory.” Agamben’s focus is on the formation of the doctrine of the trinity in early Christianity for the governing of the spiritual and earthly world, but he argues that the implications of this mixing of logos and mythos for political authority has a much broader scope. 4 For a recent argument that sustains arcana empirii in the modern state, in the flesh of the society that constitutes the modern sovereign, see Eric Santner The Royal Remains (2012). 5 See Christian Borch (2007) for an approbative analysis of Tarde’s theory. 6 The term they use is despotism. 7 Patrick Thoburn (2003)refers to Deleuze and Guattari’s depiction of despotism as a description by operation, by machinic processes of desire, rather than by temporality. Thoburn 2003, p. 91. 8 See Achouri (2012); By and Burnes (2013); Gill R. Hickman (2007). For Kurt Lewin’s influence on social psychology more broadly, see Hewstone, Stroebe and Jonas (2012). 9 Simondon’s view of perception bears intriguing affinities with recent notions of embodiment in cognitive science and philosophy of mind. See Noë (2004, 2012) and Robbins and Aydede (2009). See Protevi (2009) for an application of a hybrid Deleuzian-embodied cognition to the politics of such charged events as the aftermath of Hurrican Katrina and Terry Schiavo’s prolonged life. 10 Simondon offers a prime example of invention-individuation in binocular vision. In two eyed mammals the two two-dimensional images made by our retinas create a disparity in our vision due to each eye’s different line of sight. Each retina projects a different two dimensional reality that cannot be resolved through, for example, their superposition in the brain. It takes the nonconscious inventiveness as disparation of the mammal-vision milieu to invent a third dimension, depth, that in-forms what would otherwise be a noncummunicating difference of two two-dimensional visual fields. The inventiveness of the encounter gives rise to the invention of depth along with discrete individuated objects in a depth field, and the sense of self as a depth-perceiver. Humans, among others, bring the incompatible realities of two points of view into communication through the invention of depth perception and the in-formation of those realities. 11 Foucault famously questions whether politics is violence by other means, thus blurring the distinction between politics and violence, and criticizing the convention that violence is not a subject for political study. Likewise, Frazer and Hutchings (2011) pose the argument that for Weber, Machiavelli, and Clausewitz violence is a politically creative act and that “the detachment of politics from violence is as difficult in principle as it is in practice” (p. 70). 12 The literature on kingship and the Church is quite large, and marked by a functional separation between the Germanization of Christianity and the making of Christian kingship in Europe. I draw from several sources from among these. See Russell (1996); Yorke (2002); Lee (2013); Wood (1994); Canning (2014); Lynch (2013); Oakley (2008, 2010); Bagge (2002); Berend (2010);(1990, 1997); Goffart (1980).

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Chapter 6: On the Genesis of the Biopolitical Sovereign State

In the one hundred and fifty years between the restoration of the monarchy and William Pitt’s East India Act, Britain experienced its transformation from monarchy under the sovereign authority of the king’s divine right to a liberal state under a sovereign authority brought about by management of the state’s political anatomy. These two types of sovereignty are fundamentally distinct. Whereas the king’s divine right was the invention that crystallized the inscription of social differentiation and productive relations by centering them on the body of the monarch who possessed a monopoly on glorious, entirely unproductive expenditure, the state’s productive relations are not centered on the manager who is nothing more than the head husband, shepherd or “prime minister” of the population, the object of political anatomy. In biopolitical sovereignty, social differentiations are crystallized through ongoing new inventions that conjugate creative vicedictions with the guardianship of political arithmetic doctrine, and center debt relations on the liquid capital through which social relations are made to pass. By conjugating with any creative vicediction deemed threatening, management forces the alliances that promote those vicedictions to pass through

257 the standard of money, thereby releasing capital that coalesces in relations of perverse patronage. Whereas monarchic sovereignty required the activity of asserting, reasserting and being vulnerable to challenges of the king’s divine right, biopolitical sovereignty requires the active management of the political anatomy, or at least that plane of the political anatomy that is accessible to manipulation by political arithmetic.

Over the course of the eighteenth century, the well-being of the state of

Britain is assessed less on account of the state of the king’s divine right and more on the health of the political anatomy (or later, political economy). As the British monarch expresses his divine prerogative for the last time with his declaration of war against American independence, Britain experiences other crises during the eighteenth century that are produced and responded to in terms of biopolitical rather than monarchic sovereignty. Other than the monarchs’ wars in Europe and

America, the major crises experienced by Britain – the South Sea Crisis, the East

India Crisis, and, although not a subject of study here, crises related to the colonial administration of Ireland – are all identified and addressed as crises of the political anatomy.

Through a genealogical analytics of the technologies of guardianship, creative vicediction, and subjectivity, the two cases studied reveal a pattern of crisis emergence and management. The context for the emergence of crisis and its management is a constant state of vigilance in government but also among

258 interested members of an establishing civil society like Archibald Hutcheson and

Edmund Burke. The object of this vigilance is evidence of creative vicediction that would undermine the present differential relations in the body politic, and carries the capacity to inaugurate a newly differentiated state with differently distributed privileges and obligations. The political anatomy is a living record of the social relations of a population that can be scanned for evidence of deviation from existing social functions and hierarchies. What political anatomy is sensitive to, through its records of production flows, are patronage relations that undermine the differential social relations inscribed in a population. As actual instances that share features with the ideal type of leadership as creative vicediction, perverse patronage relations are dangerous in that their presence unsettles the myths of the body politic that authorizes the maintenance of pre-existing differential social relations.

Whether intended or not, vicedictions express a humorous and ironic stance with respect to the myths of the body politic, and imply another way of being. This humor and irony are evident in theatrical performances, newspaper caricatures, and other art inspired by the South Sea Bubble and East India

Company. In the case of the South Sea Crisis, the Company’s dedicated patronage undermined the Hanoverian succession and threatened the rekindling of a properly Catholic divine right. In the case of the East India Crisis, the perversion of the patronage was expressed in the figure of the Nabob whose hybrid, alien, semi-

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Indian, triumphant presence intruded into the highest echelons of British society and gestured passionately by customs and fashion toward a British-Indian future in which conquered Indian subjects would stand alongside British subjects in a geographically and culturally decentered country. In both cases individuals were singled out and reviled but, as with Martin Luther’s treatment by the Council of

Trent, no official punishment was meted out. Instead, under the guise of a necessity for redress biopolitical deployments comprising of both legal innovation and political arithmetic calculation were set in motion with the intention of dis- effectuating the creative vicediction, where direct confrontation would only have exacerbated it. In particular, political arithmetic sets the initial conditions for outcomes that prove the invented myth that conjugates the creative vicediction with existing myths of the body politic. In the case of the South Sea Crisis, the invented myth was that of a landowning class with moderate and steady investment tendencies and immunity to speculation – as proved by their continuing prosperity as South Sea Company investors – and a speculative, gullible, manic underclass that suffered deeply in the hands of corrupt Company direction. In the case of the East India Crisis, the invented myth was of a corrupt, mercantilist Company benefitting unfairly by state protection, and thereby undermining Britain’s capacity for greatness by the country’s natural competitive advantages in trade. Given the opportunity to trade freely, the myth tells us (and the biopolitical deployment ensures proof of the myth), Britain would naturally

260 establish its superiority with respect to its colonies, centralizing and directing trade from its metropole for the progress of all, as evidenced by the outcome of the tea trade.

England under the divine right of monarchic sovereignty was displaced in the eighteenth century by a more dynamic and continuously reinvented system of maintaining and renewing its compilation of myths about the British body politic.

Two key new figurations became perceptible through the reinvention of myths and fed back into and informed readings of the British political anatomy. The first of these is the subject of interest, the homo œconomicus, whose dispassionate interests were interpellated, cultivated, invested and used to detach production from passionate, perverse investment that threatened to sully the myths that perpetuated the differential relations of the body politic. To be clear, not all passionate relations were deemed perverse and a threat – some relations did not appear to threaten society enough to merit complex biopolitical deployments, many relations of production perpetuated existing social differentiations, and some relations were not accessible to political arithmetic manipulation. The eighteenth century is correctly famous for being a time of many new inventions, and new expressions of capital-labor relations. In any case, biopolitical governmentality is singly invested in knowing interests, and the individual of known interests, homo œconomicus, becomes a key player in the reproduction of biopolitical sovereignty. From the early days of William Petty’s political arithmetic,

261 certain subjects are recognized to have interests that they should not be expected to relinquish – whether this was the Irish subjects’ interest in having sex with women (Petty’s transmutation plan), the landowning Tory subjects’ interest in avoiding antagonizing a restive peasantry (the Walpole excise tax scheme), the original stockholders’ interest in profiting from their investment (the South Sea

Crisis), or London dealers’ interest in directing the terms of the tea trade (the East

India Crisis). While political arithmetic disposes things such that some subjects are destined to attain their interests, and destined to experience the enchantment of their good fortune, others are made the subjects of right that may be rescinded by law (the SSC directorate, Warren Hastings) or made to experience the misfortune of manipulation in the interest of others’ interests (Chinese tea producers who are made to produce whatever’s needed to serve the interests of London merchants).

In any case, knowing subjects’ interests makes them biopolitically governable, either as enchanted citizens who enthusiastically take the body politics’ myths in their person and are the first to be alert to creative vicediction, or subjects inclined to self-hatred. The latter are governable, but they are also dangerous for their inclinations to participate in creative vicedictions. As Foucault contends, the subject of interest and the subject of right are not the same, and they are not governed by the same logic. While the subject of interest is governable by political arithmetic, the subject of rights is governed by laws (Foucault, 2010, p. 275).

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It takes civil society, the second key figuration as the juridico-biopolitical

“assemblage” that envelopes both homo oeconomicus as subject of interests and homo juridicus as bearer of rights, to invent the new myths of the British body politic. Foucault describes civil society as a concept of governmental technology by which the measurement of a population’s juridical structure is pegged to its economic structure (2010, p. 296). Foucault lectures, “civil society is the concrete ensemble within which these ideal points, economic men, must be placed so that they can be appropriately managed” (ibid.). However, Foucault adds, that it is not just economic men that comprise civil society but also the non-egoist,

“disinterested interests” of sympathy and repugnance felt by men toward each other. Referencing Foucault, Maurizio Lazzarato summarizes civil society as an assemblage that envelopes both the subject of rights and the economic subject making visible their links and combinations that extend beyond economic interests to the non-egoist interests pointed out by Foucault (2009, p. 116). Civil society is an interface at which the population is legible to government in its combination of rights, interests and non-egoist interests.

Civil society is also the interface at which the population is audible to government in a spontaneous synthesis around – and I want to argue that this is what should be understood from Foucault’s description of civil society as a

“permanent matrix of political power” (2010, p. 303) – leadership as guardianship.

Foucault notes that civil society is distinctive for assuring the spontaneous

263 synthesis of individuals with no need for a social contract. There is no need for a social contract since the spontaneous synthesis is brought about “by a de facto bond which links different concrete individuals to each other” (pp. 303-304).

Foucault adds that these differences between individuals come in their differential inscriptions, “in the different roles they play in society and in the tasks they perform” (p. 304). Individuals who perform authority functions in a society make decisions for the civil society as a group; others who have a subordinate role in society listen and obey. This authority of some is not a sovereign authority since it does not inscribe subjects in differential relations of power. Rather, it expresses the myths behind already given differential relations and thereby lays claim to the right to speak for civil society as a group, and acts, as Didier Bigo puts it, as

“professional managers of unease” (2002, p. 65). Foucault adds, “in a civil society the group’s decision appears to be the decision of the whole group” but on closer inspection, they are made by “more select parties” (2010, p. 304). It is certain, non- sovereign, individuals who make decisions for society. Once more in Foucault’s words, “As individuals, some have assumed authority and others have allowed those to acquire authority over them. Consequently, the fact of power precedes the right that establishes, justifies, limits, or intensifies it; power already exists before it is regulated, delegated, or legally established” (p. 304, my emphasis). Leadership as guardianship is the de facto power of those who are already functionally differentiated to speak for the group, and it is as guardianship that power relations

264 precede legal or other inscription. The juridical structure of power comes after the fact of power since the power of guardianship is already present.

The two cases I have presented – the South Sea Crisis and the East India

Crisis – support Foucault’s observation about civil society. In both cases, members of civil society – in particular, Archibald Hutcheson and Edmund Burke – stepped forward to declare the presence of threats. These individuals both had de facto positions in society that gave them some measure of authority to speak for the society – each was a member of parliament around the time the leadership as guardianship was exercised. In both cases, social anxiety was raised with their identification of the threat.

However, I should repeat that guardianship is not in itself sovereign authority. Guardianship is taken seriously in all communities – the so-called primitive societies studied by Edmund Leach pay heed to the chief who is attributed supernatural powers – but it is not in itself a sovereign authority. What crystallizes sovereign authority is the biopolitical deployment which transforms the guardian’s declaration of a threat into an early caution of an actually preexisting but ultimately averted risk. This, I suggest, illuminates a paradox, noted by

William Connolly (2002), between the act (which is always made by a non- sovereign member of society even if that member is the prime minister or equivalent) and the consent it enables . Biopolitical deployments turn threats into averted risks, and averted risks are added to the compilation of myths that

265 constitute the Urstaat. Where members of civil society point to personified threats and demand that sovereign punishment is meted out, biopolitical deployments conduct regulatory controls to “specify” and “invest” life (Foucault, 1990b, p. 139) such that the vicedicting threat loses its intensity. Depending on the intensity of the threat declared by the guardians of civil society, the biopolitical deployment can act on specified portions within Britain’s population (the life involved in the production and consumption of beer in the case of Davenant’s excise tax) or on functionally specified portions of a geographically vastly extended and culturally differentiated population (the life involved in the production and consumption of tea in the case of Pitt’s Commutation Act). In any case, the biopolitical deployment functions to defend the claim of the guardians of civil society. Whereas the monarchic sovereign right to take life or let live defended the body of the monarch, the biopolitical sovereign right to “invest life through and through”

(Foucault, 1990b, p. 139) defends the enunciating portion of the body politic that is civil society. Biopolitical sovereignty’s imperative is to defend society.

Including the figures of homo oeconomicus and civil society, I can now further develop the pattern of biopolitical sovereign reproduction in the eighteenth century. The context of its reproduction remains a growing and increasingly complex political arithmetic (differentiated, as Foucault has famously studied, into disciplines including hygiene, insurance, economics, medical arts, urban planning, psychiatry, etc.). Within society, and in the eighteenth century

266 especially visibly in capital-labor relations, condensations of intensity are detected in the political anatomy in which relations are perverted into leadership enterprises that creatively unsettle the myths of the body politic. Fearing that existing differential relations in the body politics will be disrupted by the creatively vicedicting leadership, eminent, governmentalized members of civil society act as guardians of the society and declare the presence of a danger. Biopolitical security using the mechanisms of political arithmetic is then expertly deployed and the threat declared is yoked into the myths of the body politic as a risk averted thanks to those features celebrated in the myths of the body politic. This biopolitical defense of society is made possible by the manipulation of known interests among the homines œconomoci of society, some of which are allowed to take their course.

Members of this species, homo oeconomicus, are able to declare their interests to government in the hopes that their interests will be served by its interventions.

With the declaration of a threat, and the biopolitical deployment that converts the threat into an averted risk, new myths enter the compilation and social differentiations are adjusted accordingly in a new crystallization of sovereign social organization. The genesis and re-formation of society is accomplished every time that social relations are re-in-formed by myths of the body politic.

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The Schmitt-Weber “Debate” about Modernity and Leadership

Returning to the comparison between Foucault’s and Max Weber’s work presented in Chapter 3, it bears repeating now that whereas Weber wanted to defend the society of Menschentum from a state incapacity to invest that society with value, for Foucault it is society itself that is targeted for criticism. The force of this distinction is quite lost when leadership is displaced for sovereign decision in then inserted in the midst of Foucault’s depiction of biopolitics.1 Placing decision next to biopolitics effectively erases Foucault’s trenchant critique of society and returns us to a Weber-like paradigm of defending society against the state.

Returning to and critically transforming Weber’s tripartite modes of legitimate domination with the anthropologically informed doubling of leadership as guardianship and leadership as creative vicediction, Foucault’s critique of society itself is once again brought to the fore. Society is subject to critique in that it is society that invents and subjects itself to sovereignty, and does so anew with every new myth with which it depicts the state.

This dissertation is motivated by a desire to return the force of transformational leadership to political thought in which politics is about the production of the subject. My sense is that this necessitates intervening into a discourse, dominant in IR, in which Carl Schmitt’s conception of decision effectively stands in the place of Weber’s problematic charismatic transformative

268 force. There is a mostly silent and unacknowledged reaction against Weberian social theory taking place particularly in Critical IR which places Schmittian decision at the center of sovereignty.2 It is worth spending a little time on this silent Schmitt-Weber “debate” to study its contours so as to interrogate whether it is a debate in which Schmitt deserves to be declared the winner. In her piece “Carl

Schmitt versus Max Weber” (1999), Catherine Colliot-Thélène admirably draws out

Schmitt’s self-perception with respect to Weber from Schmitt’s dispersed references to Weber. Whereas for Weber the formation of the Menschentum was a process of a particularly Protestant ascetism that had the effect of creating a conduct of life specific to capitalism, a life for which the entry of new valuation into the political becomes a problem, for Schmitt the problem is not one of a missing capacity for the new.

Colliot-Thélène describes Schmitt as clearly informed by Weber in his development of his political theology. For Schmitt, what occurred in the move to the modern state is not the development of a Menschentum as such but secularization – the transfer of power to judge what is proper from a theological to a political power, from the Catholic Church to the state (Colliot-Thélène, 1999, p.

148). Public space is itself, for Schmitt, the product of this judgment of what is proper to the political. In making this claim, Schmitt is criticizing a perceived scientificity in Weber – the defender of “sociality without norms” in the form expressed by the Menschentum (Colliot-Thélène, 1999, p. 151) – and replacing

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Weber’s notion of disenchantment with an idiosyncratic, critically Catholic stance that sees the modern political space as already injected with and generated by judgment. For Schmitt there are two structured organizations in Western rationalism: the Church and the state of the Jus Publicum Europaeum, with the latter succeeding the former in political power. In the state, theological judgment becomes political judgment and, in this process of secularization, the plebiscatory charismatic leader is the “most striking example” of the transference (Colliot-

Thélène, 1999, p. 144). The charismatic legitimacy of Paul the Apostle becomes the sovereign’s decisionistic force. And this force is sustained in the Papal office as something between irrational devotion to the concrete personality and recognition of the purely formal function of office and not, as Weber maintains, lost in a depersonalization of charisma (J. P. McCormick, 1997, p. 163). If Weber recommends the therapy of charismatic plebiscitarian democracy for the absence of valuation in the Menschentum, Schmitt counters that the theological judgment has always existed in the modern state, and is only recently being undermined in the liberal state. William Scheuerman elaborates this point:

Weber hoped to overcome the deficiencies of modern parliamentarism by supplementing

parliamentary government with mass-based plebiscitarianism, arguing that charismatic

leaders provide a healthy corrective to highly bureaucratized modern representative bodies

and political parties. In contrast, Schmitt opts to supplant parliamentarism with

plebiscitary authoritarianism. For Schmitt, modernity’s insidious egalitarianist tendencies

can be counteracted successfully if we achieve an authoritarian dictatorship dominated by 270

leaders (allegedly) possessing a [proven] ability to engage in decisive political action” (1999,

p. 185).

What I want to spotlight here is the axis upon which the Weber-Schmitt debate lies, and the limitations of this axis. Sure enough, Schmitt’s contention that the inauguration of the new can occur in office is right. Weber’s notion that charisma is lost in rational-legal legitimate domination undermines any possible critique of modernist enchantment. However, to give Schmitt the legitimacy of a final response to Weber and conclude that the debate is resolved is to deny

Weber’s and others’ empirical findings of charisma in nontheological social settings – in the berserk warrior, in the sorcerer, for example. Schmitt responds to

Weber’s perceived absence of a capacity to inaugurate new value in capitalism with the claim that this capacity is to be found exclusively, and already in “sovereign” decisionistic form, in the Church and later in the State. Schmitt glosses over the fact that the Church was not itself a sovereign power, always expressing its force vis-à-vis some form of pre-Christian rule (the Roman Empire, Germanic kingship,

Celtic Kingship, etc.). Schmitt, idiosyncratically, makes a theological concept out of Weber’s own idiosyncratic socio-mystical concept. To theorize decision in a

Schmittian mode in contemporary politics is to remain on this axis of debate, at the Schmittian end, and it is to this limitation in contemporary political discourse that I offer a response in the form of an alternative Deleuzian conception of

271 leadership and its relationship to sovereignty, drawing from Foucault’s own critique of the Weberian charismatic – Schmittian decisionistic axis that is implicit in his writing and lecturing on parrhesia. European monarchic sovereignty was properly a Christian theological invention, but the leadership by which the liberal state’s biopolitical sovereignty is given its myths is by no means necessarily theological. The liberal state is an “economic” invention that is just as much grounded in myth as would be a political theological state.

Connections between Leadership in the Genesis of Sovereignty and Contemporary

Political Thought

My interest, in closing, is to bring my conception of sovereignty as the conjugation of leadership as creative vicediction and leadership as guardianship to bear on contemporary discourse on sovereignty while remaining vigilant to the serious limitations brought about by transposing my conceptualization of eighteenth century sovereignty to the present context. In his recent critiques of

Schmittian decision, Andrew Neal (2004, 2010) has turned to Judith Butler’s findings with respect to the George W. Bush Administration’s declaration of a war on terror. Stressing Butler’s depiction of the decision for war as one made by dispersed, “petty sovereigns,” Neal reads power itself as dispersed. Since it is a dispersed power that constitutes petty sovereigns as authorized to decide threats,

272 such petty sovereigns are not real sovereigns giving the lie to sovereignty itself.

Neal cites work by Fleur Johns (2005), Roxanne Doty (2007), and Louise Amoore

(2008) that support the view that decisional power is dispersed over “officialdom.”

My depiction of sovereignty would support dispersion, but suggest caution at too swift a dispersal of sovereignty into nothingness. While officials of all sorts, and even “respectable,” “private” members of society, may claim the presence of a threat, this does not necessarily mean that no sovereign power is at work.

Biopolitics, echoing Connolly but also drawing from Foucault, works after the declaration. While it is true that the decision to declare a threat is no longer in itself a sovereign decision, it is the first blow in the reproduction of sovereignty if followed by a biopolitical deployment. Thus, to say that decision is dispersed throughout society is not to deny sovereignty but to support the importance of the

Foucaultian critique of society itself. Thus, I question Schmittian decision, but see no reason that from this critical stance I must also take a critical stance to the reality of sovereignty.

While my conceptualization of leadership’s place in sovereignty is made, in large part, as a response to the almost ubiquitous yet reluctant reliance on

Schmittian decision in critical IR, the Deleuzian depiction of sovereignty I adapt is deeply informed by this same literature, and I want to take some space to affirm these salutary connections. In particular, I follow Jens Bartelson in his own affirmation that the question of sovereignty is a question about social organization

273 rather than “a matter of constitutional checks and balances (2001, p. 94), and R.B.J.

Walker’s call to interrogate the too readily accepted dualism of inside/outside in orthodox thought on sovereignty (1993). Bartelson makes the important addition to Walker’s concern that this dualism is itself an overlooked target of interrogation

(2001, p. 161), with the assumption being that it is a hangover of the territorially defined state. Foucault’s work would put the question to this assumption and propose that there may be other reasons for this relating to the different arts of government that arise in the nineteenth century (Foucault, 2010, p. 313).

Furthermore, my concern about sovereignty is informed by Jenny Edkins and

Veronique Pin-Fat’s criticism that sovereignty in mainstream International

Relations discourse serves as a “master discourse” with sovereignty as a “master signifier” around which all other discourses circulate and which stabilizes the semantic field of International relations discourse (1999, p. 6). In this vein,

Walker’s recent call for “messing with sovereignty” as a site for engaging with moments of authorization “rather than the necessary ground for all authority” is one that I take most seriously of all (but with both humor and irony) (Walker,

2004, p. 244). Sovereignty is indeed something to be messed with, but a disinterested play as with “disused objects,” to borrow Agamben’s evocative term

(2005, p. 64), is not an option presently open to us. Rather, as Edkins and Pin-Fat warn, messing with sovereignty involves messing with the relation of sovereignty with subjectivity, making it a dangerous proposition that carries the promise of

274 imagining a different politics (1999). Messing with sovereignty would certainly involve play, but it would not be disinterested play.

My conceptualization of sovereignty bears certain affinities to, and is influenced by, William Connolly’s critique of sovereignty in the work of Giorgio

Agamben (2007). In Deleuzian fashion, Connolly considers and then dismisses the possibility of Rousseau’s reinvention of the philosopher king who alone knows that the founding myth is a fiction, and then takes a likewise critical eye to Agamben’s conceptualization of sovereignty. Firstly, Connolly recommends a reinvestment of intellectual energies on the issue of the sacred in sovereignty, while acknowledging that the divine right of monarchic sovereignty may have been a theological right, but it was one enabled and confined by another ethos (2007, pp. 32-33). Connolly adds that ethos – and I interject that ethos here should not only be the spiritual traditions but also a society’s aptitude to mystical influence from outside its traditions – “which forms a critical component in the complexity of sovereignty, alters the course of sovereignty” (p. 35). The notion of sovereignty as something changeable and changing in time is of particular interest to us today, and once again I am in agreement with Connolly here. Therefore, I should add that my depiction of sovereignty in Britain should not be taken as a description of contemporary sovereignty. At least, sovereignty today is different due to the development of “post-Fordist” production in the late twentieth century stressed by post-autonomia political thinkers3 in which labor takes on affective forms of

275 producing subjectivity as “human capital” such that the encounter today is no longer with capital and labor but with capital and life whose self creation is endogenized into the production process. The important difference here is that capital is not invested to return profit but rent through the monopolistic management of spaces in which subjects participate in self-creation, drawing their resources from the common, “public good” of a shared general intellect.

My conceptualization of sovereignty is very much informed by Michael

Dillon’s single- and co-authored interventions in international and global political discourse. Dillon stresses that biopolitics is race politics because the racial sorting of life “is what the operational logic of biopolitics obliged it to do” (2008, p. 167).

Dillon adds, referencing William Petty’s Political Anatomy of Ireland, that the earliest population surveys of the seventeenth century did precisely this – create specified categorizations within the population in the interest of political interventions into that population. Biopolitics is fundamentally interested in the speciation of the population, and the manipulation of specific categorization. As

Achille Mbembe writes and Dillon affirms, biopolitics is as much about letting die as it is about making live (Dillon, 2008, p. 169; Mbembe, 2001). Thus, biopoliticized race arises with the birth of political modernity, with the applications of new mechanisms of government such as political arithmetic that displace the mechanisms of the conjugation of Christian kingship (Dillon, 2008, p. 170). Unlike

Christian kinship which relies on a transcendent Christian order, biopolitical

276 sovereignty relies on “some internal, or immanent, political rationality” (p. 171) such as the arithmetic rationality regarding the body politic. Although my dissertation’s genealogy ends with the dawning of this age, the differential biopolitical inscription that occurs with the case of Pitt’s management of the East

India Crisis – a biopolitical inscription that expands well beyond Britain’s territorial sovereignty – speaks to Dillon’s argument that the biopolitical discourses call forth both a “logos of peace” and a “logos of war” (p. 171). With Pitt’s management Britain is reinvented anew with an Eastward gaze that racially inscribes bodies and actualize globally circumnavigating relations of production centralized in London. As Dillon writes, imperial racism is not caused by political rationalities which “proclaim the ‘realism’ of racial supremacy” but rather is the outcome of “socio-technical systems which comprise the governing technologies of biopolitics” (ibid.). Race is a “pivotal mechanism” of biopolitical deployments, but it is not the fundamental problematic of biopolitical sovereignty.

Another affinity I find with Dillon’s work – perhaps more accurately, another connection with which I selectively ally with Dillon’s work is his characterization of modernity as marked by an evental temporality (2008, pp. 175-

181) measured in calculated challenges of contingencies that threaten and are biopolitically commodified as risks. Life is a complex, non-linear trajectory from some projects of managing evental risks to other such projects. With each new myth of a risk averted, the social fabric is rendered and reconstituted accordingly,

277 injecting dynamism into life that is distinctly modern. At any time, the compilation of myths that makes up the state is subject to dramatic change by the declaration of threat. With declarations of threat, a biopolitical deployment is inaugurated such that freedoms and possible contagions of creative vicediction are dis-effectuated and converted into a market right, creating a “rigorously capitalized economy” (p. 181). The capacity of creative vicediction to disrupt social differentiations and release society from its crystalline sovereign phase is dis- effectuated in the biopolitical conversion that transmutes creative vicediction into entrepreneurial, market innovation. In the case of the East India Crisis, a falsifying, ironic, humorous force of cultural hybridization is itself somehow conjugated into a paranoid drive for conquest and eventually tamed into a corrupt, “mercantilist,” yet ultimately profitable venture.

Biopolitical Sovereignty as History

I see my dissertation as a contribution to discourses on the history of sovereignty. One of my interests is to present sovereignty as the effect of individuation, as a crystalline social differentiation that is articulated all at once in the passionate conjugation of the myths of doctrine and their vicediction. My approach is therefore distinct from Realist and Constructivist depictions which, by asking what sovereignty is rather than how it is formed, tend to “unbundle”

278 sovereignty into various parts for analysis. Stephen Krasner, for example, differentiates the “Westphalian” sovereignty of submission to authority structures from the “international legal” sovereignty of international juridical and organizational recognition and the domestic sovereignty of territorial state control

(Krasner, 1999). Daniel Philpott (2001), on the other hand, seeks to unbundle the international rules for recognition as a sovereign equal (such as the establishment of diplomatic procedures and presences, a capacity to make treaties, etc.), from what it takes to be a legitimate policy (having control over a territory) and from what it takes to act legitimately in international society (non-intervention, respecting treaties, etc.). By contrast to such approaches, the central question that motivates my research is how sovereignty is realized. In other words, my interest is in the genesis of sovereignty, and the transformation of what Dillon refers to as the

“idioms” of sovereignty or the mythographic means by which social differentiation is accomplished.

As such, my dissertation may be described as part of a tradition that inquires into the specificity of modern sovereignty. Exemplars here would be

Hendrick Spruyt’s The Sovereign State and its Competitors (1996) and Benno

Teschke’s The Myth of 1648 (2003).4 Spruyt distinguishes the sovereign state from

“competitors” in an evolutionary competition for survival, such as feudal, Church, and Empiric authority, and argues that the “sovereign state” won by virtue of the strengths of the “Westphalian” system. This system, characterized by territorial

279 boundedness, mutual recognition, and a clear demarcation of domestic and international politics which function according to distinct logics, was simply the evolutionary superior, according to Spruyt, and therefore survived its competitors.

Teschke’s argument is partly conducted in response to Spruyt’s. Teschke finds that in Europe feudalism’s personalized and decentralized political authority was succeeded by a centralized but still personalized absolutist rule, and finally by a depersonalized and centralized capitalist authority (2003, p. 217). While the

Peace of Westphalia may arguably mark a transition to absolute authority in

Europe, on Teschke’s account, it does not mark the transition in Europe to modern, capitalist society, which occurs unevenly in Europe’s different countries, over a longer period, ending in the nineteenth century. The periodization I establish through my genealogy is largely in accord with Teschke’s history, who also sees Britain as an exception to the general rule in that, because of tight allegiances between the nobility and monarchy, Britain does not have a monarch who passes over the nobility to directly govern the territory. Rather, the transition is directly from feudalism to capitalism, or from monarchic to biopolitical sovereignty as I put it. My argument roughly supports Robert Brenner’s position in the “intra-Marxist debate” of the late 1970s (Brenner, 1976, 1977; B. Fine, 1978; Le

Roy Ladurie, 1978; Postan & Hatcher, 1978; Sweezy, 1978; Thompson, 1971; see E. M.

Wood, 2002 for an overview) according to which the agrarian class structure in

England, unlike France, prepared the way for England’s distinct, early capital-labor

280 encounter. However, where my position differs from Teschke’s is that it problematizes Britain’s formation into a “capitalist” state while Teschke assumes a state taken over by a landed capital-owning class that established a parliamentary

“monopoly in the means of violence” (2003, p. 253). Swiftly bypassing the problem of how the transformation from monarchic to “capitalist” state occurred, Teschke poses the British state as an instrument of a pre-made land-owning class for the

“joint management of their affairs” (p. 255). This collapsing of the multi-faceted, complex and fundamental problem, readily available in seventeenth century political discourse, into a class conflict between a peasantry, monarchy and landed aristocracy discourages politicizing economic theory itself. It collapses and shuts down the possibility of applying seventeenth century discourses on sovereignty to the critique of our present condition. For Teschke, Britain’s superior capitalist state logic puts other European states at a competitive disadvantage in terms of economics and coercion (p. 265), a statement that already expresses Teschke’s capitulation to orthodox views of a strict economic/political separation. By the end of Teschke’s book we are left with a world that is eminently familiar to any student of IR – a world of economic competitive integration and political, coercive insecurity. Whereas Teschke’s bypassing of the problem of how a transformation in sovereignty was effectuated starting in seventeenth century England returns the reader back to mainstream IR, my interest in this dissertation has been to stay

281 with and interrogate this problem before rushing into the dazzling brilliance of dominant narratives.

I believe that my conceptualization of sovereignty as the conjugation of leadership by creative vicediction and leadership by guardianship, and in particular, of biopolitical sovereignty as the conjugation of guardianship and creative vicediction by political arithmetic management, pertains to historical constructions of European interstate relations, colonial imperialism, the twentieth century international, and the present context of global governance. While the

Schmittian narrative has retained a geopolitical/biopolitical divide that has effectively left geopolitics in the terrain of the dominant discourse, my argument for biopolitical sovereign authority does not allow for such neglect. My conception of sovereignty presses on the nerve that traverses the joint, insists upon interrogating the divide between geopolitics and biopolitics. To be clear, I believe the following are crucial questions. If eighteenth century British sovereignty was biopolitical in that it was the outcome of a yoking of creative vicediction by political arithmetic, and if by the end of the eighteenth century in Britain biopolitical deployments are being exercised on populations far beyond the territory of Britain and inscribing those distant populations with a biopolitical sovereign authority, and if as Foucault says by the nineteenth century biopolitical deployments of various kinds inscribe populations all over Western Europe, then how can we make sense of nineteenth century warfare? Was nineteenth century

282 warfare biopolitical, or was this warfare something we must relinquish to the old story of power balancing between atomistic states acting under anarchy, or something else? Asking this question is a matter of taking up the point Didier Bigo has rightly made, that the problem of how security relates to war has yet to be richly conceived by “Foucaultians” (Bigo, 2008, p. 106; though see François Debrix

& Barder, 2012).

Foucault himself clearly links the question of killing in the presence of biopower to that of race.5 He lectures, “How can the power of death, the function of death, be exercised in a political system centered upon biopower? It is, I think, at this time that racism intervenes … It is indeed the emergence of this biopower that inscribes it [racism] in the mechanisms of the State” (Foucault, 2003, p. 254).

For Foucault, race serves several differentiating functions. Race introduces a break in the domain of life that is in the control of power. Racism creates a relation that is not one of warlike confrontation but, as Ann Laura Stoler (1995) made clear in her reading of Foucault’s lectures, a positive relation between the right to kill and the assurance of life. Foucault calls this a “biological-type relationship” in that killing others does not just guarantee one’s safety, it also makes life in general healthier (Foucault, 2003, p. 255). Furthermore, Foucault clearly links racism as bound up with biopolitical techniques, stating that racism is a “mechanism that allows biopower to work” by functioning through “the old sovereign power of life and death” (p. 258).

283

I want to end the dissertation by repeating that biopower is a sovereign power – and again by sovereign power I mean that it is a power by which life is inscribed, marked with social differentiations – requiring no prior decisional authority other than the guardianship of society itself to decide on the presence of a vicedicting threat. This would suggest that the international space that emerges in the nineteenth century, in all its colonial and power-balancing complexity, must be rethought. It can no longer be separated into a racist colonial preoccupation outside of Europe and interest-based mutual recognition within Europe, as is the emerging consensus in Constructivist International Relations today.6 I mean that the territorial and other spaces of coloniality may need to be redefined,7 and the assumption that those spaces have by now been recast should be interrogated. If sovereignty is, as I argue it is, the outcome of leadership dynamics within society whose inscriptions can extend beyond mutually circumscribed territories, then the very concept of postcoloniality must be put back into question.

284

1 See Huysmans (2008) for the converse argument that with decision “the political leadership absorbs political agency. The dialectic relation between a people that are a quasi autonomous political force and the leadership that acts in their name, which is central to democratic governance, gives way to unity through a process of radical identification with the leadership, consequently shifting democratic politics into dictatorship” (p. 170). Here Huysmans seems to be gesturing a delegative capacity to society. Nevertheless, Huysmans correctly dissociates Foucault’s from Agamben’s conception of biopolitics in the same article. For other critiques of Schmitt’s exception broadly in the IR discourse see Neal (2010); Johns (2005); Doty (2007); Coleman and Grove (2009); Neocleous (2006). 2 As a noteworthy exception to this rule, see Andreas Kalyvas (2009) for a sophisticated, though ultimately uncritical, comparison of Weber’s and Schmitt’s, and Hannah Arendt’s, “politics of the extraordinary.” 3 I attribute the phrase post-autonomia to Paolo Virno, Maurizio Lazzarato, Christian Matrazzi, and Carlo Vercellone, among others. 4 Other exemplary texts include Ruggie (1993); Barkin and Cronin (1994); Reus-Smit (2001); and Jackson (1990). 5 Dillon and Reid (2009)also take up this question, but their focus bypasses the nineteenth century, and retains a geopolitics/biopolitics distinction. 6 I am referring to Keene (2002) according to whom spatially differentiated orders emerged in the nineteenth century, an order in Europe and across the North Atlantic that functioned on the principle of tolerance and an order outside of this space that functioned on the principle of civilization. This view bears considerably resemblance to Schmitt’s The Nomos of the Earth (2006). See also Buzan and Lawson (2013). 7 See Elden (2009) for an argument that that the spatialities of the “war on terror” challenges assumptions that sovereignty is coincident with geopolitical territory. My proposal is whether this non-coincidence is a colonial inheritance.

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