In Caliban and the Witch, Silvia Federici offers a fascinating and horrible analysis of the Middle Ages through Feminist, Marxist, and Foucauldian lenses, attempting to recenter the social and sexual subjugation of women as a project essential to the development of Capitalism in a hitherto feudal Europe.
While impressive and generally highly-rated, certain aspects of Federici's methodology don't do well in the light, thus necessitating one approaches it with a degree of distance. This long review is mostly a reminder to myself as to why.
The Bewitching Thesis
In Capital, Marx explains that structural conditions for the existence of capitalism were created by 'primitive accumulation,' a process of violent dispossession and the enclosure of land that led to the formation of the proletariat and provided the impetus for developing capitalist industry. In Federici's view, Marx ignores that the subjugation of women was as just as crucial to this process, and was—she says—instrumental too in the racial brutalisation and enslavement of the native population of the New World.
Federici is theoretically motivated to prove that "women's history" is not separate from the history of the working-class male but is integral to "class history." First, Federici looks at the social reproduction of labour: how the control and manipulation of the ability to replenish the workforce (through reproduction, childcare, nourishment, domestic maintenance, etc.) required the sexual division of labour in order to produce surplus value. Further, according to her, Capitalism required not only the redefinition of bodies and their coercion into self-disciplining workers, but also the division of the proletariat along identitarian lines in order to weaken the resistance peasant rebellions posed to the status quo, especially after the Plague.
This, she goes on to argue, was achieved through the (massively understudied) Witch Hunts, used to both discipline and punish subversive and heretic women and sow suspicion amongst proletarian society to turn them against each other, men against women. Similarly, she says, followed the demonisation of non-Europeans, who were colonised and divided to be employed as an expendable labour force crucial to the Capitalist ecosystem. Thus the Shakespearean figures of Caliban and the witch Sycorax take their place within Federeci's theoretical framework, where the Witch, a hitherto marginalised figure, is acknowledged as a central one alongside the affects of her being Caliban's mother.
Federici thus posits her arguments with regards to this period opposite the supposed enrichment brought about by the Enlightenment, arguing that for women and people of colour it ushered in the beginnings of veritable darkness. She also goes on to argue that unlike Marx's supposition, Capitalism must always operate by force of repression, and that the process of 'primitive accumulation' and scapegoating of others cannot cease: under the current phase of Globalisation, it has only intensified, as seen in the resurgence of violence (and, as she points out, witch hunts) in 'Global South' countries like Nigeria after their adoption of the IMF's Structural Adjustment Program in the 1980s.
Interesting, isn't it?
The Glaring (?) Issues
On the face of it, Caliban and the Witch presents a compelling argument, boosted, no doubt, by the stellar research and historiography its fat list of references and endnotes suggest. I was quite impressed by many of its assertions—and it does assert some excellent points—but the neatness with which all of Federici's arguments fit together, along with her polemical style of writing, made my ears prick up a little.
While Caliban and the Witch does rightly point at how certain suppositions Marx made in Capital do not seem to hold up, none of these observations are particularly original: true, violence remains essential to Capitalism 500 years on (although it may be argued that we are not as far into the late stages with their pure exploitation as we suppose, even as we are fast approaching it). Similarly, whereas her criticism of Foucault's ignorance of male domination and female sexuality in his History of Sexuality are well taken, his decision not to focus on repressive tactics used in bringing about a regime of sexual control is just that—a decision.
The above is harmless critique, but Federici is at times given to manipulation-by-omission too. For instance, she makes Marx say that capitalism represents an emancipation, while to the best of my knowledge he argued that the advent of capitalism, for the first time in history, set conditions for future emancipation. She also tries to assert that medieval feudalism could have directly given way to a socialist society, which is an argument that many theorists from the Global South has given voice to, except that in Federici's case there is no attempt at following through with or creating a real case for it when so much of her analysis hinges on such a claim. Moreover, even as she echoes these anti-imperial critiques, her writing in this book (perhaps unconsciously) generalises and presents the feudal structures of Europe as the 'global' condition, and the women here as representative of women everywhere—yikes! Certain sections of Caliban and the Witch also misconstrue correlations between two historically observed phenomenon into causation, which feels sloppy, and Federici often devolves into single-axis analysis of oppression and ahistorical claim-making, which leads to some strange assertions including one about Catholic church's appropriation of womenswear.
Some consider her 'exaggeration' of the extent of the witch hunt in Europe most discrediting to an otherwise commendable work: most professional historians estimate the number of witch-hunt victims to be between 40,000 and 60,000, whereas Federici takes the highest estimated figure of 100,000, and proceeds with an idea of "hundreds of thousands" of women being persecuted. I understand where this tension comes from, but is recorded history not known to under-report figures such as these? I find Federici's figures here an acknowledgement of and corrective against the same, and not entirely unwelcome in that.
What I do consider discrediting is her flattening of 'heretical' movements into one, grand, consolidated movement, which is historically inaccurate, and her cherrypicking of sources that support her thesis while ignoring those that speak otherwise (the neatness with which the narrative of her argument fits together thus starts making sense). Though this is a political choice, it comes with its costs and labels her book as significantly unreliable. This is an academic gymnastic that I personally find hard to reconcile myself with in a lot of feminist scholarship and especially feminist history, since hostile critics often latch onto it to discredit feminisms and feminist philosophy on the whole.
I wouldn't discourage those interested from reading this, but I would recommend bringing your own critical lens and a pinch of salt.