I read Agamben’s short text “Pilate and Jesus” around Holy Week four years ago. It’s remarkable how fast time slithers through the ether. I actually did not realize until now how relevant Agamben’s “Homo Sacer” was to Holy Week and Easter also. Last year during the rapid spread of prison abolition activism, I had asked a friend (a PhD student, in Sweden at the time, studying non-incarceral medieval judicial systems in Scandinavia) if he had any recommendations for me regarding incarceration after I had finished reading Angela Davis’ “Are Prisons Obsolete?” and Agamben’s “Homo Sacer” was one of his recommendations. I only had a slight inkling of how connected this text was with Easter beforehand, but having now gone through it, it’s helped me observe this liturgical season in a rather new light.
My main takeaway from this text was the interesting observation that Agamben makes regarding “the king and the beggar” (as Terry Eagleton phrases it). Agamben’s point is that exceptions (e.g. those that are excluded from a particular group) are foundational for constituting the norm (e.g. the central identity of that group). This functions both for monarchs with extremely concentrated power who are considered above and separate from the political body they govern, as well as ‘homo sacer’ the killable non-person stripped of any rights and separate from the political body who have basic protections afforded to them. One is excluded at the top of the body politic, the other from the bottom.
The first time I encountered an example of this, which drew stark parallels to the political framing of Jesus (as sovereign and as homo sacer), was in Philip Deloria’s book “Playing Indian”. Deloria talks about the Lenape leader Tammany (Tamanend) who became a hero within the revolutionary zeitgeist of America. Deloria writes:
“After the passage of the Stamp Act in 1765, increasingly resistant colonists gleefully promoted Tammany from king to “tutular [sic] saint of America” and turned their May Day songs and revels into overtly politicized demonstrations of patriotic Americanness. The Indian saint’s supposed motto, Kwanio Che Keeteru… became… a patriotic slogan of the Tammany societies: “This is my right; I will defend it.” The societies created a body of myth to celebrate the recently canonized Tammany and the American continent for which he stood… Growing aged, Tammany refused to burden his family but instead put his lodge to the torch and reclined peacefully inside, perhaps destined to rise again someday. As they imaged and then appropriated this phoenixlike figure, the white members of the society sought to stake their claim on an essential Indian Americanness.”
These settlers engaged in a disturbing ritual of burning an effigy of ‘king’ Tammany:
“On May Day, for example, European revellers danced around the maypole—an ancient symbol of the united of the old sacrificial king and his successor—to celebrate not only the end of one cycle and the beginning of another, but also the oneness of the old year and the new. They frequently burnt the old king and used fire and ash symbolism to evoke the phoenix like connection between death and new life…”
“Tammany societies also celebrated the death of the Indian saint as an overthrow of an aged fertility figure. In Charleston, South Carolina, Tammany followers reenacted his mythic end by literally setting him on fire…”
I find it curious because this insurrectionary act of burning the effigy of a king and its connotation of sacrifice, and then its later adaptation to an Indigenous leader largely reconstructed within Anglo-American imagination — this all recalls for me the crucifixion at the core of the Christian tradition and the Roman appropriation of its revolutionary significance. This is another comment by Deloria that helps make sense of how American identity was wrapped up in the suppression of the old by the new:
“Tammany’s death was a metaphor for the “disappearance” of Indian people from the land, the destruction of the old cycle, the dawning of another era in which successor Americans would enjoy their new world. His implied rebirth, on the other hand, suggested that Americans were not successors so much as aboriginal Tammanys themselves. And if the new ruler was literally the same as the old, it was only fitting that the Tammany members shared his identity by clothing themselves in Indian garb.”
Indigenous genocide in this sense shares commonality with the Jewish genocide of the Shoah/Holocaust. Agamben frames the concentration camp as the biopolitical paradigm of the modern. If murder is prohibited, every enactment of the death penalty is a suspension of that prohibition – a state of exception. Such a suspension of the law for the sovereign (the one in power) is justified on the grounds that it is necessary to maintain order in society and prevent grievous crimes such as murder. Therefore murder is used to prevent murder. Agamben explains it this way:
“One of the paradoxes of the state of exception lies in the fact that in the state of exception, it is impossible to distinguish transgression of the law from execution of the law, such that what violates a rule and what conforms to it coincide without any remainder (a person who goes for a walk during the curfew is not transgressing the law any more than the soldier who kills him is executing it). This is precisely the situation that, in the Jewish tradition (and, actually, in every genuine messianic tradition), comes to pass when the Messiah arrives. The first consequence of this arrival is that the Law (according to the Kabbalists, this is the law of the Torah of Beriah, that is, the law in force from the creation of man until the messianic days) is fulfilled and consummated. But this fulfillment does not signify that the old law is simply replaced by a new law that is homologous to the old but has different prescriptions and dif- ferent prohibitions (the Torah of Aziluth, the originary law that the Messiah, according to the Kabbalists, would restore, contains neither prescriptions nor prohibitions and is only a jumble of unordered letters). What is implied instead is that the fulfillment of the Torah now coincides with its transgression. This much is clearly affirmed by the most radical messianic movements, like that of Sabbatai Zevi (whose motto was “the fulfillment of the Torah is its transgression”).
From the juridico-political perspective, messianism is therefore a theory of the state of exception – except for the fact that in messianism there is no authority in force to proclaim the state of exception; instead, there is the Messiah to subvert its power.”
Much of Agamben’s text here focuses on his elaboration on ‘bios’ and ‘zoe’, largely from Aristotle channelled through the writings of Arendt. While Arendt’s totalitarian thesis conflating Nazism and Soviet Communism surface a number of times in Agamben’s text, a view that I do not share with Agamben, I think he does make important points about how modern States (including those under the banner of ‘communism’ have been examples of his political theses concerning sovereignty and the state of exception). He uses the phrase ‘zone of indistinction’ to mark out moments where there is a collapse between Left and Right (what is more often referred to as red-brown alliances in contemporary discourse) but also between liberalism and totalitarianism (which is something I certainly agree with). Agamben gives an example of the Serbian ‘ethnic cleansing’ committed by ex-communist ‘ruling classes’. I don’t know enough about this stuff, so I will have to read up on that some time.
The main way Agamben uses his phrase ‘zone of indistinction’ is in reference to bios and zoe, where bare life falls under the domain of political life. ‘Zoe’ (bare life) becomes the principle mode of existence, which has come under political power (biopolitics) while ‘bios’ (the ‘good life’ or political life) has lost its distinction from basic survival. Agamben writes:
“…if classical politics is born through the separation of these two spheres, life that may be killed but not sacrificed is the hinge on which each sphere is articulated and the threshold at which the two spheres are joined in becoming indeterminate. Neither political bios nor natural zoē, sacred life is the zone of indistinction in which zoē and bios constitute each other in including and excluding each other.
It has been rightly observed that the state is founded not as the expression of a social tie but as an untying (déliaison) that prohibits (Badiou, L’être, p. 125).”
Agamben connects this biopolitical focus on 'bare life' (zoe) with the modern body politic in a fascinating way through Hobbes, who basically says the fact that everyone can be killed makes them equal. And so political equality becomes intertwined with biopolitics here. Agamben writes: "The great metaphor of the Leviathan, whose body is formed out of all the bodies of individuals, must be read in this light. The absolute capacity of the subjects’ bodies to be killed forms the new political body of the West." This is also a fascinating way to conceive of the church which in Christianity is thought of as the body of Christ which Agamben comments on citing remarks by Kantorowicz from his text "The King's Two Bodies." Christian testament texts often speak of Christ's followers ruling with Christ in the eschaton, whether by participating in the body of Christ or as individuals crowned together with Christ. I always thought this sounded like the Marxist notion of the 'dictatorship of the proletariat'. Agamben actually comments on this and how he sees ‘dictatorship of the proletariat’ as an example of this state of exception:
“Today, now that the great State structures have entered into a process of dissolution and the emergency has, as Walter Benjamin foresaw, become the rule, the time is ripe to place the problem of the originary structure and limits of the form of the State in a new perspective. The weakness of anarchist and Marxian critiques of the State was precisely to have not caught sight of this structure and thus to have quickly left the arcanum imperii aside, as if it had no substance outside of the simulacra and the ideologies invoked to justify it. But one ends up identifying with an enemy whose structure one does not understand, and the theory of the State (and in particular of the state of exception, which is to say, of the dictatorship of the proletariat as the transitional phase leading to the stateless society) is the reef on which the revolutions of our century have been shipwrecked.”
This is a fascinating aspect of power that I had not properly thought of before. Agamben works through notions of ‘constituting power’ both by way of the Nazi jurist Schmitt as well as the libertarian communist Negri. This segment is quite useful for trying to understand China today, but that is a tangent for another time. I wanted to include a comment Agamben makes regarding Trotskyist and Maoist notions of revolution:
“Here the basic problem is not so much how to conceive a constituting power that does not exhaust itself in a constituted power (which is not easy, but still theoretically resolvable), as how clearly to differentiate constituting from constituted power, which is surely a more difficult problem. Attempts to think the preservation of constituting power are certainly not lacking in our age, and they have become familiar to us through the Trotskyite notion of a “permanent revolution” and the Maoist concept of “uninterrupted révolution.” Even the power of councils (which there is no reason not to think of as stable, even if de facto constituted revolutionary powers have done everything in their power to eliminate them) can, from this perspective, be considered as a survival of constituting power within constituted power.”
I think Christianity sits at this very strange moment of history where a revolutionary group of Jewish peasants led by Jesus became the ideological backbone of empire and conquest. If communism is to take seriously the lessons of history, it cannot ignore the monstrosities committed under the banner of Christianity, a faith tradition named after a Jewish worker and agitator killed at the hands of Roman empire. Agamben again on Marxist notions of class war:
“At times the bloody flag of reaction and the uncertain insignia of revolutions and popular fronts, the people always contains a division more originary than that of friend- enemy, an incessant civil war that divides it more radically than every conflict and, at the same time, keeps it united and constitutes it more securely than any identity. When one looks closely, even what Marx called “class conflict,” which occupies such a central place in his thought – though it remains substantially undefined – is nothing other than the civil war that divides every people and that will come to an end only when, in the classless society or the messianic kingdom, People and people will coincide and there will no longer be, strictly speaking, any people.
If this is true, if the people necessarily contains the fundamental biopolitical fracture within itself, then it will be possible to read certain decisive pages of the history of our century in a new way. For if the struggle between the two “peoples” was certainly always under way, in our time it has experienced a final, paroxysmal acceleration.”
And Agamben again shows that this violence occurs even internally among leftist factions, and leftist infighting shares great similarities with Christian persecution internal to itself between various denominations and sects:
“It is important not to forget that the first concentration camps in Germany were the work not of the Nazi regime but of the Social-Democratic governments, which interned thousands of communist militants in 1923 on the basis of Schutzhaft and also created the Konzentrationslager für Ausländer at Cottbus-Sielow, which housed mainly Eastern European refugees and which may, therefore, be considered the first camp for Jews in this century (even if it was, obviously, not an extermination camp).
The juridical foundation for Schutzhaft was the proclamation of the state of siege or of exception and the corresponding suspension of the articles of the German constitution that guaranteed personal liberties.”
These states of exception, justifications of performing things contrary to the ends one wants to achieve but for the sake of those ends is a great paradox, one in which I will have to think through more carefully. I think Agamben provides a lot to ponder here. Granted a lot of this book was over my head. It was very dense, and certainly not easy reading for me. But it’s a fascinating thing to ponder, especially on this Good Friday.