Afro-Pessimism – Neg lab DD Notes (notes would be inserted here) ===NEG=== ***1NC’s*** 1NC: Afro-Pessimism (remembrance) The 1AC’s use of the state as an ethical actor re-enforces the antagonism of blackness in white civil society - this whitewashes anti-black violence and reenforces the racist power-structures that render the USFG coherent Wilderson, 03 (Frank, “Gramsci's Black Marx: Whither the Slave in Civil Society” an American writer, dramatist, filmmaker and critic. He is a full professor of Drama and African American studies at the University of California, Irvine. Pp. 6-8, AF) The value of reintroducing the unthought category of the slave, by way of noting the absence of the Black subject, lies in the Black subject’s potential for extending the demand placed on state/capital formations because its reintroduction into the discourse expands the intensity of the antagonism. In other words, the slave makes a demand, which is in excess of the demand made by the worker. The worker demands that productivity be fair and democratic (Gramsci's new hegemony, Lenin's dictatorship of the proletariat), the slave, on the other hand, demands that production stop; stop without recourse to its ultimate democratization. Work is not an organic principle for the slave. The absence of Black subjectivity from the crux of marxist discourse is symptomatic of the discourse's inability to cope with the possibility that the generative subject of capitalism, the Black body of the 15th and 16th centuries, and the generative subject that resolves late-capital's over-accumulation crisis, the Black (incarcerated) body of the 20th and 21st centuries, do not reify the basic categories which structure marxist conflict: the categories of work, production, exploitation, historical self-awareness and, above all, hegemony. If, by way of the Black subject, we consider the underlying grammar of the question What does it mean to be free? that grammar being the question What does it mean to suffer? then we come up against a grammar of suffering not only in excess of any semiotics of exploitation, but a grammar of suffering beyond signification itself, a suffering that cannot be spoken because the gratuitous terror of White supremacy is as much contingent upon the irrationality of White fantasies and shared pleasures as it is upon a logic—the logic of capital. It extends beyond texualization. When talking about this terror, Cornel West uses the term “black invisibility and namelessness” to designate, at the level of ontology, what we are calling a scandal at the level of discourse. He writes: [America's] unrelenting assault on black humanity produced the fundamental condition of black culture -- that of black invisibility and namelessness. On the crucial existential level relating to black invisibility and namelessness, the first difficult challenge and demanding discipline is to ward off madness and discredit suicide as a desirable option. A central preoccupation of black culture is that of confronting candidly the ontological wounds, psychic scars, and existential bruises of black people while fending off insanity and selfannihilation. This is why the "ur-text" of black culture is neither a word nor a book, not and architectural monument or a legal brief. Instead, it is a guttural cry and a wrenching moan -- a cry not so much for help as for home, a moan less out of complaint than for recognition. (8081) Thus, the Black subject position in America is an antagonism, a demand that can not be satisfied through a transfer of ownership/organization of existing rubrics; whereas the Gramscian subject, the worker, represents a demand that can indeed be satisfied by way of a successful War of Position, which brings about the end of exploitation. The worker calls into question the legitimacy of productive practices, the slave calls into question the legitimacy of productivity itself. From the positionality of the worker the question, What does it mean to be free? is raised. But the question hides the process by which the discourse assumes a hidden grammar which has already posed and answered the question, What does it mean to suffer? And that grammar is organized around the categories of exploitation (unfair labor relations or wage slavery). Thus, exploitation (wage slavery) is the only category of oppression which concerns Gramsci: society, Western society, thrives on the exploitation of the Gramscian subject. Full stop. Again, this is inadequate, because it would call White supremacy "racism" and articulate it as a derivative phenomenon of the capitalist matrix, rather than incorporating White supremacy as a matrix constituent to the base, if not the base itself. What I am saying is that the insatiability of the slave demand upon existing structures means that it cannot find its articulation within the modality of hegemony (influence, leadership, consent)—the Black body can not give its consent because “generalized trust,” the precondition for the solicitation of consent, “equals racialized whiteness ” (Lindon Barrett). Furthermore, as Orland Patterson points out, slavery is natal alienation by way of social death , which is to say that a slave has no symbolic currency or material labor power to exchange: a slave does not enter into a transaction of value (however asymmetrical) but is subsumed by direct relations of force, which is to say that a slave is an articulation of a despotic irrationality whereas the worker is an articulation of a symbolic rationality. White supremacy’s despotic irrationality is as foundational to American institutionality as capitalism’s symbolic rationality because, as Cornel West writes, it… …dictates the limits of the operation of American democracy -- with black folk the indispensable sacrificial lamb vital to its sustenance. Hence black subordination constitutes the necessary condition for the flourishing of American democracy, the tragic prerequisite for America itself. This is, in part, what Richard Wright meant when he noted, "The Negro is America's metaphor." (72) And it is well known that a metaphor comes into being through a violence which kills, rather than merely exploits, the object, that the concept might live. West's interventions help us see how marxism can only come to grips with America's structuring rationality -- what it calls capitalism, or political economy; but cannot come to grips with America's structuring irrationality: the libidinal economy of White supremacy, and its hyper-discursive violence which kills the Black subject that the concept, civil society, may live. In other words, from the incoherence of Black death, America generates the coherence of White life. This is important when thinking the Gramscian paradigm (and its progenitors in the world of U.S. social movements today) which is so dependent on the empirical status of hegemony and civil society: struggles over hegemony are seldom, if ever, asignifying—at some point they require coherence, they require categories for the record—which means they contain the seeds of anti-Blackness. Let us illustrate this by way of a hypothetical scenario. In the early part of the 20th century, civil society in Chicago grew up, if you will, around emerging industries such as meat packing. In his notes on “Americanism and Fordism” (280-314), Gramsci explores the “scientific management” of Taylorism, the prohibition on alcohol, and Fordist interventions into the working class family, which formed the ideological, value-laden grid of civil society in places like turn of the century Chicago: The objectification of blackness means that we are ontologically murdered over and over again with no contingency, Black flesh becomes the enslaved profit for white society Spillers, 87 (Hortense, professor at the University of Vanderbilt, 1987, The John Hopkins University Press, “Mama's Baby, Papa's Maybe: An American Grammar Book”, http://web.calstatela.edu/faculty/jgarret/texts/spillers.pdf, 7/6/14, KM) Among the myriad uses to which the enslaved community was put, Goodell identifies its value for medical research: “Assortments of diseased, damaged, and disabled Negroes, deemed incurable and otherwise worthless are bought up, it seems … by medical institutions, to be experimented and operated upon, for purposes of ‘medical education’ and the interest of medical science” [86-87; Goodell’s emphasis ]. From the Charleston Mercury for October 12, 1838, Goodell notes this advertisement: ¶ ‘To planters and others. – Wanted, fifty Negroes, any person, having sick Negroes, considered incurable by their respective physicians, and wishing to dispose of them, Dr. S. will pay cash for Negroes affected with scrofula, or king’s evil, confirmed hypochrondriasm, apoplexy, diseases of the liver, kidneys, spleen, stomach and intestines, bladder and its appendages, diarrhea, dystentery, etc. The highest cash price will be paid, on application as above.’ At No. 110 Church Street, Charleston. [87; Goodell’s emphasis] ¶ This profitable “atomizing” of the captive body provides another angle on the divided flesh: we lose any hint or suggestion of a dimension of ethics, of relatedness between human personality and cultural institutions. To that extent, the procedures adopted for the captive flesh demarcate a total objectification, as the entire captive community becomes a living laboratory. ¶ The captive body, then, brings into focus a gathering of social realities as well as a metaphor for value so thoroughly interwoven in their literal and figurative emphases that distinctions between them are virtually useless. Even though the captive flesh/body has been “liberated,” and no one need pretend that even the quotation marks do not matter, dominant symbolic activity, the ruling episteme that releases the dynamics of naming and valuation remains grounded in the originating metaphors of captivity and mutilation so that it is as if neither time nor history, nor historiography and its topics, shows movement, as the human subject is “murdered” over and over again by the passions of a bloodless and anonymous archaism, showing itself in endless disguise. Faulkner’s young Chick Mallison in The Mansion calls “it” by other names – “the ancient subterrene atavistic fear…” . And I would call it the Great Long National Shame. But people do not talk like that anymore – it is “embarrassing,” just as the retrieval of mutilated female bodies will likely be “backward” for some people. Neither the shameface of the embarrassed, nor the not-looking-back of the self-assured is of much interest to us, and will not help at all if rigor is our dream. We might concede, at the very least, that sticks and bricks might break our bones, but words will most certainly kill us. The alternative is to wallow in the permutation of present and past to return and depart from the violence created by slavery – this opens up new avenues to challenge the normalized violence in modernity Hartman 02, (Columbia University African American literature and history professor, 02(Saidiya V., Fall 2002, “The time of Slavery”, The South Atlantic Quarterly, Volume 101, Number 4, pp.757-777, CLF) The point here is not to condemn tourism, but to rigorously examine the politics of memory and question whether ‘‘working through’’ is even an appropriate model for our relationship with history. In Representing the Holocaust, Dominick LaCapra opts for working through as kind of middle road between redemptive totalization and the impossibility of representation and suggests that a degree of recovery is possible in the context of a responsible working through of the past . He asserts that in coming to terms with trauma, there is the possibility of retrieving desirable aspects of the past that might be used in rebuilding a new life. 23 While LaCapra’s arguments are persuasive, I wonder to what degree the backward glance can provide us with the vision to build a new life? To what extent need we rely on the past in transforming the present or, as Marx warned, can we only draw our poetry from the future and not the past? 24 Here I am not advancing the impossibility of representation or declaring the end of history, but wondering aloud whether the image of enslaved ancestors can transform the present. I ask this question in order to discover again the political and ethical relevance of the past. If the goal is something more than assimilating the terror of the past into our storehouse of memory, the pressing question is,Why need we remember? Does the emphasis on remembering and working through the past expose our insatiable desires for curatives, healing, and anything else that proffers the restoration of some prelapsarian intactness? Or is recollection an avenue for undoing history? Can remembering potentially enable an escape from the regularity of terror and the routine of violence constitutive of black life in the United States? Or is it that remembering has become the only conceivable or viable form of political agency? Usually the injunction to remember insists that memory can prevent atrocity, redeem the dead, and cultivate an understanding of ourselves as both individuals and collective subjects. Yet, too often, the injunction to remember assumes the ease of grappling with terror, representing slavery’s crime, and ably standing in the other’s shoes . I am not proscribing representations of the Middle Passage, particularly since it is the absence of a public history of slavery rather than the saturation of representation that engenders these compulsive performances, but instead pointing to the danger of facile invocations of captivity, sound bites about themillions lost, and simulations of the past that substitute for critical engagement. These encounters with slavery are conditioned by the repression and erasure of the violent history of deportation and social death in the national imagination, and the plantation pastorals and epics of ethnicity that stand in their stead. In this respect, the journey back is as much motivated by the desire to return to the site of origin and the scene of the fall, as with the invisible landscape of slavery, the unmarked ports of entry in the United States, and the national imperative to forget slavery, render it as romance, or relegate it to some prehistory that has little to do with the present. The restored plantations of the South reek with the false grandeur of the good old days, and the cabins don’t appear horrible enough. Too easily, onemight conclude,Well, things weren’t all that bad. The starkness of the dungeons seems to permit a certain dignity; their cavernous emptiness resonates with the unspeakable. These blank spaces hint at the enormity of loss, the millions disappeared, and what Amiri Baraka describes as ‘‘the X-ed space, the empty space where we live, the space that is left of our history now a mystery.’’ 1NC: Burn it down The power to name is the power to maim – skin color is the sight of the most foundational antagonism, the aff’s attempt to remove history from modernity is not only impossible but also excessively violent Spillers, 87 (Hortense, 1987, Professor at the university of Vanderbilt The John Hopkins University Press, “Mama's Baby, Papa's Maybe: An American Grammar Book”, http://web.calstatela.edu/faculty/jgarret/texts/spillers.pdf, 7/6/14, KM) The captivating party does not only "earn" the right to dispose of the captive body as it sees fit, but gains, consequently, the right to name and "name" it: Equiano, for instance, identifies at least three different names that he is given in numerous passages between his Benin homeland and the Virginia colony, the latter and England -"Michael," "Jacob," "Gustavus Vassa" [35; 36]. The nicknames by which African-American women have been called, or regarded or imagined on the New World scene- the opening lines of this essay provide examples -demonstrate the powers of distortion that the dominant community seizes as its unlawful prerogative. Moynihan's "Negro Family," then, borrows its narrative energies from the grid of associations, from the semantic and iconic folds buried deep in the collective past, that come to surround and signify the captive person. Though there is no absolute point of chronological initiation, we might repeat certain familiar impression points that lend shape to the business of dehumanized naming. Expecting to find direct and amplified reference to African women during the opening years of the Trade, the observer is disappointed time and again that this cultural subject is concealed beneath the mighty debris of the itemized ac¬count, between the lines of the massive logs of commercial enterprise that overrun the sense of clarity we believed we had gained concerning this collective humiliation. Elizabeth Don¬nan's enormous, four-volume documentation becomes a case in point. Turning directly to this source, we discover what we had not expected to find - that this aspect of the search is rendered problematic and that observations of a field of manners and its related sociometric are an outgrowth of the industry of the "exterior other" [Todorov 3], called "anthropology" later on. The European males who laded and captained these galleys and who policed and corralled these human beings, in hundreds of vessels from Liverpool to Elmina, to Jamaica; from the Cayenne Islands, to the ports at Charleston and Salem, and for diacritics / summer 1987 69 three centuries of human life, were not curious about this "cargo" that bled, packed like so many live sardines among the immovable objects. Such inveterate obscene blindness might be denied, point blank, as a possibility for anyone, except that we Know it happened. Donnan's first volume covers three centuries of European "discovery" and "conquest," beginning 50 yearsbefore piousCristobal, Christum Ferens, the bearer of Christ, laid claim to what he thought was the " Indies." From Comes Eannes de Azurara's "Chronicle of the Discovery and Conquest of Guinea, 1441-1448" Donn an 1:18-41], we learn that the Portuguese probably gain the dubious distinction of having introduced black Africans to the European market of servitude We are also reminded that "Geography" is not a divine gift. Quite to the contrary, its boundaries were shifted during the European "Age of Conquest" in giddy desperation, according to the dictates of conquering armies, the edicts of prelates, the peculiar myopia of the medieval Christian mind. Looking for the " Nile River," for example, according to the fifteenth-century Portuguese notion, is someone's joke. For all that the pre¬Columbian "explorers" Knew about the sciences of navigation and geography, we are surprised that more parties of them did not end up "discovering" Europe. Perhaps, from a certain angle, that is precisely all that they found - an alternative reading of ego. The Por¬tuguese, having little idea where the Nile ran, at least understood right away that there were men and women darker-skinned than themselves, but they were not specifically knowledgeable, or ingenious, about the various families and groupings represented by them. De Azurara records encounters with "Moors," "Mooresses," "Mulattoes," and people "black as Ethiops" [1:28], but it seems that the " Land of Guinea," or of "Black Men," or of " The Negroes" [1:35] was located anywhere southeast of Cape Verde, the Canaries, and the River Senegal, looking at an eighteenth-century European version of the subsaharan Continent along the West African coast [1:frontispiece]. Three genetic distinctions are available to the Portuguese eye, all along the riffs of melanin in the skin: in a field of captives, some of the observed are "white enough, fair to look upon, and weII-proportioned." Others are less "white like mulattoes," and still others "black as Ethiops, and so ugly, both in features and in body, as almost to appear (to those who saw them) the images of a lower hemisphere" [1:28]. By implication, this "third man," standing for the most aberrant phenotype to the observing eye, embodies the linguistic com-munity most unknown to the European. Arabic translators among the Europeans could at least "talk" to the "Moors" and instruct them to ransom themselves, or else. . Typically, there is in this grammar of description the perspectiveof "declension" not of simultaneity, and its point of initiation is solipsistic - it begins with a narrative self, in an ap-parent unity of feeling, and unlike Equiano, who also saw "ugly" when he looked out, this collection self uncovers the means by which to subjugate the " foreign code of conscience," whose most easily remarkable and irremediable difference is perceived in skin color. By the time of De Azurara's mid-fifteenth century narrative and a century and a half before Shakespeare's "old black ram" of an Othello "tops" that "white ewe" of a Desdemona, the magic of skin color is already installed as a decisive factor in human dealings. In De Azurara's narrative, we observe males looking at other males, as " female" is sub-sumed here under the general category of estrangement. Few places in these excerpts carve out a distinct female space, though there are moments of portrayal that perceive female cap¬tives in the implications of socio-cultural function. When the field of captives (referred to above) is divided among the spoilers, no heed is paid to relations, as fathers are separated from sons, husbands from wives, brothers from sisters and brothers, mothers from children- male and female. It seems dear that the political program of EuropeanChristianity promotes this hierarchical view amongma/es, although it remains puzzling to us exactly how this version of Christianity transforms the "pagan" also into the "ugly." It appears that human beings came up with degrees of " fair" and then the "hideous, " in its overtones of bestiality, as the opposite of " fair," all by themselves, without stage direction, even though there is the curious and blazing exception of Nietzsche's Socrates, who was Athens's ugliest and wisest and best citizen. The intimate choreography that the Portuguese narrator sets going between the " faithless" and the " ugly" transforms a partnership of dancers into a single figure. Once the " faithless," indiscriminate of the three stops of Portuguese skin color, are transported to Europe, they become an altered human factor: The altered human factor Fenders an alterity of European ego, an invention, or "discovery" as decisive in the full range of its social implications as the birth of a newborn. According to the semantic alignments of the excerpted passage, personhood, for this European observer, locates an immediately outward and superficial determination, gauged by quite arbitrarily opposed and specular categories: that these "pagans" did not have "bread" and "wine" did not mean that they were feast less,as Equiano observes about the Benin diet, c. 1745, in the province of Essaka: just as fufu serves the Ghanaian diet today as a starch-and-bread-substitute, palm wine (an item by the same name in the eighteenth-century palate of the Benin community) need not be Heitz Cellars Martha's Vineyard and vice-versa in order for a guest, say, to imagine that she has enjoyed. That African housing arrangements of the fifteenth century did not resem¬ble those familiar to De Azurara's narrator need not have meant that the African com¬munities he encountered were without dwellings. Again, Equiano's narrative suggests that by the middle of the eighteenth century, at least, African living patterns were not only quite distinct in their socio metrical implications, but that also their architectonics accurately reflected the climate and availability of resources in the local circumstance: " These houses never exceed one story in height; they are always built of wood, or stakes driven into the ground, crossed with wattles, and neatly plastered within and without" . Hierarchical im¬pulse in both De Azurara's and Equiano's narratives translates all perceived difference as a fundamental degradation or transcendence, but at least in Equiano's case, cultural practices are not observed in any intimate connection with skin color. For all intents and purposes, the politics of melanin, not isolated in its strange powers from the imperatives of a mercantile and competitive economics of European nation-states, will make of "transcendence" and "degradation" the basis of a historic violence that will rewrite the histories of modern Europe and black Africa. These mutually exclusive nominative elements come to rest on the same governing semantics- the ahistorical, or symptoms of the "sacred." By August 1518, the Spanish King, Francisco de Los Covos, under the aegis of a power¬ful negation, could order "4000 negro slaves both male and female, provided they be Chris¬tians" to be taken to the Caribbean, " the islands and the mainland of the ocean sea already discovered or to be discovered" Donn an 1:42]. Though the notorious "Middle Passage" appears to the investigator as a vast background without boundaries in time and space, we see it related in Donnan's accounts to the opening up of the entire Western hemisphere for the specific purposes of enslavement and colonization. De Azurara's narrative belongs, then, to a discourse of appropriation whose strategies will prove fatal to communities along the coast¬line of West Africa, stretching according to Olaudah Equiano, "3400 miles, from Senegal to Angola, and [will include} a variety of Kingdoms" [Equiano 5]. Anti-Black terror sustains Human community and fragments the Black psyche – only the incomprehensible end of the world solves Wilderson 11 (Frank, PhD, Associate Professor, African American Studies Dept., UC Irvine, “The Vengeance of Vertigo: Aphasia and Abjection in the Political Trials of Black Insurgents”, InTensions, Vol 5, 2011) Ritual murders which purge White aggressivity subtend Bukhari’s impeded mourning and my dissembling scholarship, despite the fact that the filial cleansing and affilial stability proffered by the Black imago’s intrusion as a phobic object does not cut both ways. The Black psyche emerges within a context of force, or structural violence, which is not analogous to the emergence of White or non-Black psyches. The upshot of this emergence is that the Black psyche is in a perpetual war with itself because it is usurped by a White gaze that hates the Black imago and wants to destroy it. The Black self is a divided self or, better, it is a juxtaposition of hatred projected toward a Black imago and love for a White ideal: hence the state of war (Marriott, “Fanon’s War”). This state of being at war forecloses upon the possession of elements constitutive of psychic integration: bearing witness (to suffering), atonement, naming and recognition, representation. As such, one cannot represent oneself, even to oneself as a bona fide political subject, as a subject of redress. Black political ontology is foreclosed in the unconscious just as it is foreclosed in the court. “[I]t may not be too fanciful to suggest,” Marriott writes, “that the black ego, far from being too immature or weak to integrate, is an absence haunted by its and others’ negativity. In this respect the memory of loss is its only possible communication” (425). It is important to note that loss is an effect of temporality; it implies a syntagmatic chain that absence cannot apprehend. Marriott’s psychoanalytic inquiries work through the word “loss” in order to demonstrate the paucity of its explanatory power. Again, loss indicates a prior plenitude, absence does not.  Marriott explains how we all work together, how we all bond over the Black imago as phobic object, that we might form a psychic community even though we cannot form political community. He does so by recalling that exemplary moment in Black Skin, White Masks, when Fanon sees himself through the eyes of a White boy who cries in terror, “Look a Negro!” Symbolically, Fanon knows that any black man could have triggered the child’s fantasy of being devoured that attaches itself to a fear of blackness, for this fear signifies the “racial epidermal schema” of Western culture—the unconscious fear of being literally consumed by the black other. Neither the boy nor Fanon seems able to avoid this schema, moreover, for culture determines and maintains the imago associated with blackness; cultural fantasy allows Fanon and the boy to form a bond through racial antagonism (“Bonding over Phobia” 420).  This phobia is comprised of affective responses, sensory reactions or presubjective constellations of intensities, as well as representational responses, such as the threatening imago of a fecal body which portends contamination. And this affective/representational performance is underwritten by paradigmatic violence; which is to say the fantasy secures what Marriott calls “its objective value” because it lives within violence too pervasive to describe.xvi “The picture of the black psyche that emerges from” this intrusion “is one that is always late, never on time, violently presented and fractured by these moments of specular intrusion” (“Bonding over Phobia” 420). The overwhelming psychic alienation that emerges from the literal fear and trembling of the White boy when Fanon appears, accompanied by “the foul language that despoils…is traumatic for” the Black psyche. One comes to learn that when one appears, one brings with one the threat of cannibalism. “What a thing,” writes Fanon, “to have eaten one’s father!” (Black Skin, White Masks)And the Black psyche retains the memory of that eternal White “fear of being eaten … [and] turned into shit by an organic communion with the black body … [This] is one of the most depressing and melancholic fantasies ensuing from the psychodynamics of intrusion” (“Bonding over Phobia” 421).  Again, though this is a bond between Blacks and Whites, it is produced by a violent intrusion that does not cut both ways. Whereas the phobic bond is an injunction against Black psychic integration and Black filial and affilial relations, it is the life blood of White psychic integration and filial (which is to say domestic) and affilial (or institutional) relations.  To add to this horror, when we scale up from the cartography of the mind to the terrain of armed struggle and the political trials, we may be faced with a situation in which the eradication of the generative mechanism of Black suffering is something that is not in anyone’s interest. Eradication of the generative mechanisms of Black suffering explored in this article, is not in the interest of the court, as Justice Taney demonstrates as his ruling mobilizes the fantasy of immigration to situate the Native American within political community and to insure the African’s standing as a genealogical isolate. Taney’s majority decision suggests that juridical and political standing, like subjectivity itself, are not constituted by positive attributes but by their capacity to sidestep niggerization. Nor is the eradication of the generative mechanisms of Black suffering in the interests of the White political prisoners such a David Gilbert and Judith Clark, Kuwasi Balagoon’s codefendants—their ideological opposition to the court, capitalism, and imperialism notwithstanding, because such ideological oppositions mark conflicts within the world rather than an antagonism to the world. Eradication of the generative mechanisms of Black suffering would mean the end of the world and they would find themselves peering into an abyss (or incomprehensible transition) between epistemes; between, that is, the body of ideas that determine that knowledge that is intellectually certain at any particular time. In other words, they would find themselves suspended between worlds. This trajectory is too iconoclastic for working class, postcolonial, and/or radical feminist conceptual frameworks. The Human need to be liberated in the world is not the same as the Black need to be liberated from the world; which is why even their most radical cognitive maps draw borders between the living and the dead. Finally, if we push Marriott’s findings to the wall, it becomes clear that eradication of the generative mechanisms of Black suffering is also not in the interests of Black revolutionaries. For how can we disimbricate Black juridical and political desire from the Black psyche’s desire to destroy the Black imago, a desire which constitutes the psyche? In short, bonding with Whites and non-Blacks over phobic reactions to the Black imago provides the Black psyche with the only semblance of psychic integration it is likely to have: the need to destroy a Black imago and love a White ideal. “In these circumstances, having a ‘white’ unconscious may be the only way to connect with—or even contain—the overwhelming and irreparable sense of loss. The intruding fantasy offers the medium to connect with the lost internal object, the ego, but there is also no ‘outside’ to this ‘real fantasy’ and the effects of intrusion are irreparable” (“Bonding over Phobia” 426). This raises the question, who is the speaking subject of Black insurgent testimony? Who bears witness when the Black insurgent takes the stand? Black political horizons are singularly constrained, because the process through which the Black unconscious emerges and through which Black people form psychic community with Humans is the very process which bars Black people from political community. The alternative is to burn it down – why stop at the aff – civil society is inseparable from its foundation Farley 4 (Anthony Paul, Associate Profess @ Albany Law School, “Perfecting Slavery”, http://www.luc.edu/law/activities/publications/lljdocs/vol36_no1/farley.pdf, Accessed: 11/9/11, ) What is to be done? Two hundred years ago, when the slaves in Haiti rose up, they, of necessity, burned everything: They burned San Domingo flat so that at the end of the war it was a charred desert. Why do you burn everything? asked a French officer of a prisoner. We have a right to burn what we cultivate because a man has a right to dispose of his own labour, was the reply of this unknown anarchist.48 The slaves burned everything because everything was against them. Everything was against the slaves, the entire order that it was their lot to follow, the entire order in which they were positioned as worse than senseless things, every plantation, everything.49 “Leave nothing white behind you,” said Toussaint to those dedicated to the end of white-overblack. 50 “God gave Noah the rainbow sign. No more water, the fire next time.”51 The slaves burned everything, yes, but, unfortunately, they only burned everything in Haiti.52 Theirs was the greatest and most successful revolution in the history of the world but the failure of their fire to cross the waters was the great tragedy of the Nineteenth century.53 At the dawn of the Twentieth century, W.E.B. Du Bois wrote, “The colorline belts the world.”54 Du Bois said that the problem of the Twentieth century was the problem of the colorline.55 The problem, now, at the dawn of the Twenty-first century is the problem of the colorline. The colorline continues to belt the world. Indeed, the slave power that is the United States now threatens an entire world with the death that it has become and so the slaves of yesterday, today, and tomorrow, those with nothing but their chains to lose, must, if they would be free, if they would escape slavery, win the entire world. win the entire world. VIII. TRAINING We begin as children. We are called and we become our response to the call. Slaves are not called. What becomes of them? What becomes of the broken-hearted? The slaves are divided souls, they are brokenhearted, the slaves are split asunder by what they are called upon to become. The slaves are called upon to become objects but objecthood is not a calling. The slave, then, during its loneliest loneliness, is divided from itself. This is schizophrenia. The slaves are not called, or, rather, the slaves are called to not be. The slaves are called unfree and thus the living can never be and so the slaves burst apart and die. The slaves begin as death, not as children, and death is not a beginning but an end. There is no progress and no exit from the undiscovered country of the slave, or so it seems. We are trained to think through a progress narrative, a grand narrative, the grandest narrative, that takes us up from slavery. There is no up from slavery. The progress from white-over-black to white-over-black to white-overblack. The progress of slavery runs in the opposite direction of the past-present- future timeline. The slave only becomes the perfect slave at the end of the timeline, only under conditions of total juridical freedom. It is only under conditions of freedom, of bourgeois legality, that the slave can perfect itself as a slave by freely choosing to bow down before its master. The slave perfects itself as a slave by offering a prayer for equal rights. The system of marks is a plantation. The system of property is a plantation. The system of law is a plantation. These plantations, all part of the same system, hierarchy, produce white-overblack, white-over-black only, and that continually. The slave perfects itself as a slave through its prayers for equal rights. The plantation system will not commit suicide and the slave, as stated above, has knowing non-knowledge of this fact. The slave finds its way back from the undiscovered country only by burning down every plantation. When the slave prays for equal rights it makes the free choice to be dead, and it makes the free choice to not be. ***2NC *** V.1 Overview a. Remember to explain the thesis of the argument – it is very important to stress that the entire state and civil society are rendered coherent by anti-blackness – this is an important uniqueness question for debate on the permutation as well as the state good/reformism arguments b. impact calculus should -indict the idea of utilitarian calculation – IE whiteness renders white bodies as subject meaning that they are worthy of being calculated in policies while the black body is rendered non-human – this not only is a link but is also a reason why the impact calculus of the aff is rooted in a racist paradigm of colonial calculation etc. -doesn’t have to have a nuclear war explosion global warming econ collapse impact – this is an argument about the way society functions – racial injustice is a prior question to other alarmist issues created by the USA agenda to ignore gratuitous violence c. link framing should be aff specific but also focus on just the advocacy/use of the state as something that is capable of being redeemed And, The objection that we cannot theorize because action must be taken now trades off with a paradigmatic analysis of the past that is a pre-requsite for any solvency for the kritik Hartman 02, Professor of African American Literature and History Columbia University , 02(Saidiya V., Fall 2002, “The time of Slavery”, The South Atlantic Quarterly, Volume 101, Number 4, pp.757-777, CLF) What is at stake here is more than exposing the artifice of historical barricades or the tenuousness of temporal markers like the past and the present. By seizing hold of the past, one illuminates the broken promises and violated contracts of the present. The disjuncture between what David Scott has described as ‘‘that event’’ and ‘‘this memory,’’ beyond comprising an essential dimension of belatedness, raises a host of questions about the use and relevance of the past, the political and ethical valence of collective memory, and the relation between historical responsibility and the contemporary crisis, whether understood in terms of amasochistic attachment to the past, the intransigence of racism, or the intractable and enduring legacy of slavery.8 In other words, Africa as an atavistic land as well as the character and consequences of an identification with Africa are mediated by way of the experience of enslavement, and perhaps, even more important, by way of a backward glance at U.S. history as well. That is, the identification with Africa is always already after the break. Added to this is the question of whether Africa serves merely as a mirror that refracts the image of the United States, thereby enabling the ‘‘returnee’’ to explore issues of home and identity with a measure of contemplative distance. Certainly, this is not surprising when we take into account the way I which slavery and Africa function as ‘‘the generative and constitutive points of reference’’ in continuist narratives of African-American history and cultural survival.9 For this reason, it is important to disaggregate Africa and slavery in order to apprehend the ways in which they come together. The journey to Elmina Castle, Ouidah, or Goree Island is first and foremost a way of commemorating slavery at its purported site of origin, although one could just as easily travel to Portugal or visit the Vatican. The paradox here is that the title to home and kin emerges only in the aftermath of the dislocation and death of the Middle Passage and the social death of enslavement; in short, it is a response to the breach of separation. Kinship is precious by virtue of its dissolution, and ‘‘wounded kinship’’ defines the diaspora.10 The pristine and idealized vision of home and kin is even more esteemed as a consequence of its defilement. It is, in this way, not unlike virginity, which Faulkner observed ‘‘must depend upon its loss, its absence to have existed at all.’’ V.2 Overview Blackness = enslavement The perceived axiom of “black = slave” destabilizes the black community permanently Sexton 10 (Jared, Assoc Prof of African American Studies @ UC Irvine, “People of Color Blindness” p. 33-34) Not all free persons are white (nor are they equal or equally free), but slaves are paradigmatically black. And because blackness serves as the basis of enslavement in the logic of a transnational political and legal culture, it permanently destabilizes the position of any nominally free black population. Stuart Hall might call this the articulation of elements of a discourse, the production of a “non-necessary correspondence” between the signifiers of racial blackness and slavery.27 But it is the historical materialization of the logic of a transnational political and legal culture such that the contingency of its articulation is generally lost to the infrastructure of the Atlantic world that provides Frank Wilderson a basis for the concept of a “political ontology of race.”28 The United States provides the point of focus here, but the dynamics under examination are not restricted to its bounds. Political ontology is not a metaphysical notion, because it is the Social Text 103 • Summer 2010 37 explicit outcome of a politics and thereby available to historic challenge through collective struggle. But it is not simply a description of a political status either, even an oppressed political status, because it functions as if it were a metaphysical property across the longue durée of the premodern, modern, and now postmodern eras. That is to say, the application of the law of racial slavery is pervasive, regardless of variance or permutation in its operation across the better part of a millennium.29 In Wilderson’s terms, the libidinal economy of antiblackness is pervasive, regardless of variance or permutation in its political economy. In fact, the application of slave law among the free (that is, the disposition that “with respect to the African shows no internal recognition of the libidinal costs of turning human bodies into sentient flesh”) has outlived in the postemancipation world a certain form of its prior operation — the property relations specific to the institution of chattel and the plantationbased agrarian economy in which it was sustained. Hartman describes this in her 2007 memoir, Lose Your Mother, as the afterlife of slavery: “a measure of man and a ranking of life and worth that has yet to be undone . . . a racial calculus and a political arithmetic that were entrenched centuries ago.”30 On that note, it is not inappropriate to say that the continuing application of slave law facilitated the reconfiguration of its operation with the passage of the Thirteenth Amendment to the U.S. Constitution, rather than its abolition (in the conventional reading) or even its circumscription “as punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted” (on the progressive reading of contemporary critics of the prisonindustrial complex). It is the paramount value of Loïc Wacquant’s historical sociology, especially in Wilderson’s hands, that it provides a schema for tracking such reconfigurations of antiblackness “from slavery to mass imprisonment” without losing track of its structural dimensions, its political ontology.31 U/X of Civil Society Civil society is founded on the antagonism of whiteness and blackness – the coherence of the state rests on racialized gratuitous violence Wilderson 10 [Frank B., Associate Professor at UC Irvine, Red, White & Black: Cinema and the Structure of U.S. Antagonisms, pages 29-31 ] The three structuring positions of the United States (Whites, Indians, Blacks) are elaborated by a rubric of three demands: the (White) demand for expansion, the (Indian) demand for return of the land, and the (Black) demand for "flesh" reparation (Spillers). The relation between these positions demarcates antagonisms and not conflicts because, as I have argued, they are the embodiments of opposing and irreconcilable principles or forces that hold out no hope for dialectical synthesis, and because they are relations that form the foundation on which all subsequent conflicts in the Western Hemisphere are possible. In other words, the originary, or ontological, violence that elaborates the Settler/Master, the "Savage," and the Slave positions is foundational to the violence of class warfare, ethnic conflicts, immigrant battles, and the women's liberation struggles of Settler/Masters. These antagonisms—whether acknowledged through the conscious and empirical machinations of political economy or painstakingly disavowed through what Jared Sexton terms the "imaginative labor" of libidinal economy—render all other disputes as conflicts, or what Haunani-Kay Trask calls "intra-settler discussions."40 As I stated above, in the 1960s and 1970s, as White radicalism's discourse and political common sense found authorization in the ethical dilemmas of embodied incapacity (the ontological status of Blacks as accumulated and fungible objects), White cinema's proclivity to embrace dispossession through the vectors of capacity (the ontological status of the Human as an exploited and alienated subject) became profoundly disturbed. While many socially and politically engaged film scripts and cinematic strategies did not surrender completely to incapacity (i.e., to the authority of the Slave's grammar of suffering), many failed to assert the legitimacy of White ethical dilemmas (the supremacy of exploitation and alienation as a grammar of suffering) with which cinema had been historically preoccupied.41 The period during which COINTELPRO crushed the Black Panthers and the Black Liberation Army also witnessed the flowering of Blackness's political power—not so much as institutional capacity but as a Zeitgeist, a demand that authorized White radicalism. But by 1980 White radicalism had comfortably re-embraced capacity without the threat of disturbance—it returned to the discontents of civil society with the same formal tenacity as it had from 153242 to 1967, only now that formal tenacity was emboldened by a wider range of alibis than simply free speech or the antiwar movement; it had, for example, the women's, gay, antinuclear, environmental, and immigrants' rights movements as lines of flight from the absolute ethics of Redness and Blackness. It was able to reform (reorganize) an unethical world and still sleep at night. Today, such intrasettler discussions are the foundation of the "radical" agenda. At the beginning of the twenty-first century, the irreconcilable demands embodied in the "Savage" and the Slave are being smashed by the two stone-crushers of sheer force and liberal Humanist discourses such as "access to institutionality," "meritocracy," "multiculturalism," and "diversity"—discourses that proliferate exponentially across the political, academic, and cinematic landscapes. Given the violent state repression of Red, White, and Black political movements in the 1960s and 1970s, and the forces of multiculturalism and neoliberalism in the 1980s and 1990s, my project asks whether it is or ever was possible for the feature film, as institution and as text, to articulate a political ethics that acknowledges the structure of U.S. antagonisms. Unlike radically unsettled settler societies, such as Israel and pre-1994 South Africa, the structure of antagonisms is too submerged in the United States to become a full-fledged discourse readily bandied about in civil society—the way a grammar is submerged in speech. Film studies and socially engaged popular films constitute important terrains which, like other institutions in the United States, work to disavow the structure of antagonisms; but they also provide interesting sites for what is known in psychoanalysis as repetition compulsion and the return of the repressed. ***Links*** Civil Society The belief stemming from anti-blackness of the present existence of a society where racism must not exist due to the demise of slavery, perpetuates the inequalities that stems from the very system that we partake in, a system built upon anti-blackness Sexton, 2011 (Jared, Associate professor at UC Irvine ‘The Curtain of the Sky’: An introduction, p.14-16, KS) That is to say, in the debate about the colonial policy of assimilation and its discontents, a debate in which Mannoni and Fanon intervene respectively, it is slavery and the particular freedom struggle it engenders that mark the critical difference. Slavery: that which reduces ‘colonial peoples to a molten state’ uniquely enabling the metropolitan power ‘to pour them into a new mould’, a process in which ‘the personality of the native is first destroyed through uprooting, enslavement, and the collapse of the social structure’ (Mannoni 1990: 27). For Mannoni, ‘assimilation is only practicable where an individual has been isolated from his group, wrenched from his environment and transplanted else- where’ (Mannoni 1990: 27, emphasis added). Fanon’s historical materialist redaction of Mannoni’s psychology of the colonial relation is to refuse the latter’s projection of the ‘affective disorders’ produced by colonization into a pre-colonial cultural eternity. Not so much, perhaps, because such projection would have the Malagasy desire her own colonizer (like the Inca who Mannoni suggests desires her own conquistador in an earlier historical period), but because the contradictions of colonization might provide an even more problematic recommendation for ‘the introduction of slavery’ (Mannoni 1990: 27). To suffer the loss of political sovereignty, the exploitation of labor, the dispossession of land and resources is deplorable; yet, we might say in this light that to suffer colonization is unenviable unless one is enslaved. One may not be free, but one is at least not enslaved. More simply, we might say of the colonized: you may lose your motherland, but you will not ‘lose your mother’ (Hartman 2007). The latter condition, the ‘social death’ under which kinship is denied entirely by the force of law, is reserved for the ‘natal alienation’ and ‘genealogical isolation’ characterizing slavery. Here is Orlando Patterson, from his encyclopedic 1982 Slavery and Social Death: I prefer the term ‘natal alienation’ because it goes directly to the heart of what is critical in the slave’s forced alienation, the loss of ties of birth in both ascending and descending generations. It also has the important nuance of a loss of native status, of deracination. It was this alienation of the slave from all formal, legally enforceable ties of ‘blood,’ and from any attachment to groups or localities other than those chosen for him [sic] by the master, that gave the relation of slavery its peculiar value to the master. The slave was the ultimate human tool, as imprintable and as disposable as the master wished. And this was true, at least in theory, of all slaves, no matter how elevated. (Patterson 1982: 7–8) True even if elevated by the income and formal education of the mythic American middle class, the celebrity of a Hollywood icon, or the political position of the so-called Leader of the Free World.4The alienation and isolation of the slave is not only vertical, canceling ties to past and future generations and rendering thereby the notion of ‘descen- dants of slaves’ as a strict oxymoron. It is also a horizontal prohibition, canceling ties to the slave’s contemporaries as well. Reduced to a tool, the deracination of the slave, as Mannoni and Fanon each note in their turn, is total, more fundamental even than the displacement of the colonized, whose status obtains in a network of persecuted human relations rather than in a collection or dispersal of a class of things. Crucially, this total deracination is strictly correlative to the ‘absolute submission mandated by [slave] law’ discussed rigorously in Saidiya Hartman’s 1997 Scenes of Subjection: the slave estate is the most perfect example of the space of purely formal obedience defining the jurisdictional field of sovereignty (Agamben 2000). Because the forced submission of the slave is absolute, any signs whatsoever of ‘reasoning … intent and rationality’ are recognized ‘solely in the context of criminal liability’. That is, ‘the slave’s will [is] acknowledged only as it [is] prohibited or punished’ (Hartman 1997: 82, emphasis added). A criminal will, a criminal reasoning, a criminal intent, a criminal rationality: with these erstwhile human capacities construed as indices of culpability before the law, even the potentiality of slave resistance is rendered illegitimate and illegible a priori. The disqualification of black resistance by the logic of racial slavery is not unrelated to the longstanding cross-racial phenomenon in which the white bourgeois and proletarian revolutions on both sides of the Atlantic can allegorize themselves as revolts against slavery, while the hemispheric black struggle against actually existing slavery cannot authorize itself literally in those same terms. The latter must code itself as the apotheosis of the French and American revolutions (with their themes of Judeo-Christian deliverance) or, later, the Russian and Chinese revolutions (with their themes of secular messianic trans- formation) or, later still, the broad anti-colonial movements in Africa, Asia, and Latin America of the mid-20th century (with their themes of indigenous reclamation and renaissance).5One of the defining features of contemporary political and intellectual culture remains this metaphoric transfer that appropriates black suffering as the template for non-black grievances, while it misrecognizes the singularity of black struggles against racial slavery and what Loïc Wacquant calls its ‘functional surrogates’ or what Hartman terms its ‘afterlife’. Put differently, ‘the occult presence of racial slavery’ continues to haunt our political imagination: ‘nowhere, but nevertheless everywhere, a dead time which never arrives and does not stop arriving’ (Marriott 2007: xxi). Hartman’s notion of slavery’s afterlife and Wacquant’s theorization of slavery’s functional surrogates are two productive recent attempts to name the interminable terror of slavery, but we are still very much within the crisis of language – of thinking and feeling, seeing and hearing – that slavery provokes. Both scholars challenge the optimistic idea of a residual ‘legacy’ of slavery, precisely because it requires the untenable demarcation of an historic end in Emancipation. The relations of slavery live on, Hartman might say, after the death knell of formal abolition, mutating into ‘the burdened individuality of freedom’. The functions of the chattel system are largely maintained, Wacquant might say, despite the efforts of Reconstruction, preserved in surrogate institutional form under Jim Crow, the ghetto, and the prison. Slavery lives on, it survives, despite the grand attempts on its institutional life forged by the international movements against slavery, segregation and mass imprisonment (Davis 2003). But what if slavery does not die, as it were, because it is immortal, but rather because it is non-mortal, because it has neverlived, at least not in the psychic life of power? What if the source of slavery’s longevity is not its resilience in the face of opposition, but the obscurity of its existence? Not the accumulation of its political capital, but the illegibility of its grammar? On this account, for those that bear the mark of slavery – the trace of blackness – to speak is to sound off without foundation, to appear as a ghost on the threshold of the visible world, a spook retaining (only) the negative capacity to absent the presence, or negate the will to presence, of every claim to human being, even perhaps the fugi- tive movement of stolen life explored masterfully by Fred Moten (2008). We might rethink as well the very fruitful notion of ‘fugitive justice’ that shapes the prize-winning 2005 special issue of Representations on ‘Redress’. Coeditors Saidiya Hartman and Stephen Best are posing the right question: ‘How does one compensate for centuries of violence that have as their consequence the impossibility of restoring a prior existence, of giving back what was taken, of repairing what was broken?’ (Hartman and Best 2005: 2) That is to say, they are thinking about ‘the question of slavery in terms of the incomplete nature of abolition’, ‘the contemporary predicament of freedom’ (2005: 5, emphasis added). Yet, the notion subsequently developed of a fugitive life ‘lived in loss’ – spanning the split difference between grievance and grief, remedy and redress, law and justice, hope and resignation – relies nonetheless on an outside, however improbable or impossible, as the space of possibility, of movement, of life. Returning to our schematization of Fanon, we can say that the outside is a concept embedded in the problématique of colonization and its imaginary topography, indeed, the fact that it can imagine topographically at all. But, even if the freedom dreams of the black radical imagination do conjure images of place (and to do here does not imply that onecan in either sense of the latter word: able or permitted); what both the fact of blackness and the lived experience of the black name for us, in their discrepant registers, is an anti-black world for which there is no outside. ‘The language of race developed in the modern period and in the context of the slave trade’ (Hartman 2007: 5). And if that context is our context and that context is the world, then this is the principal insight revealed by the contemporary predicament of freedom: there is no such thing as a fugitive slave. Anti-blackness has built a society where blackness is synonymous with slaveness, implicity enslaving blacks within everyday society, this oppression ontologically murders blacks in a way that outweighs other forms of oppression Sexton, 2011 (Jared, Associate professor at UC Irvine ‘The Curtain of the Sky’: An introduction, p.14-16, KS) ‘The political ontology of race’ is a phrase borrowed from work of political theorist Frank B. Wilderson, III, where it has been elaborated from his 2003 Social Identities article, ‘Gramsci’s Black Marx’, to his 2008 American Book Award-winning memoir,Incognegro: A Memoir of Exile and Apartheid, and his forthcoming Red, White, and Black: Cinema and the Structure of US Antagonisms. Drawing heavily upon Gordon and Fanon, alongside the early Patterson, the ongoing research of Wacquant on the four ‘peculiar institutions’ that have ‘operated to define, confine, and control African Americans in the history of the United States’ (Wacquant 2002: 41), and an array of noted literary critics and historians (e.g. David Eltis, Lindon Barrett, Saidiya Hartman, Ronald A.T. Judy, David Marriott, Hortense Spillers); Wilderson supplants the paradigm of comparative ethnic and racial studies in two principle ways. First, by moving conceptually from the empirical to the structural, especially insofar as the question of differential racialization – or the compli- cations of racial hierarchy – makes recourse to a comparative sociology, measuring relative rates of infant mortality, poverty, illiteracy, high school graduation, hate crimes, impris- onment, electoral participation, and so on. Second, by reframing racism (pace Fanon) as a social relationship that is grounded in anti-blackness rather than white supremacy. What Wilderson demonstrates at length is that ‘the racialization of the globe’ (Dikötter 2008) or the formation of the ‘world racial system’ (Winant 2002) does not adhere strictly to Du Bois’s thesis on the color line – ‘the relation of the darker to the lighter races of men [sic] in Asia and Africa, in America and the islands of the sea’ – in which ‘Negro slavery’ is referred to as but one ‘phase’ of a general problem. Rather, slavery establishes the vestibule of the category of the Human. To be sure, Humans do not live under con- ditions of equality in the modern world. In fact, modernity is, to a large degree, marked by societies structured in dominance: patriarchy and white supremacy, settler colonialism and extra-territorial conquest, imperialist warfare and genocide, class struggle and the international division of labor. Yet, for Wilderson, there is a qualitative difference, an ontological one, between the inferiorization or dehumanization of the masses of people ‘in Asia … in America and the islands of the sea’, including the colonization of their land and resources, the exploitation of their labor and even their extermination in whole or in part, and the singular com- modification of human being pursued under racial slavery, that structure of gratuitous violence in which bodies are rendered as flesh to be accumulated and exchanged.7On this score, we should note that ‘the absolute submission mandated by law was not simply that of slave to his or her owner, but the submission of the enslaved before all whites’ (Hartman 1997: 83). The latter group is perhaps better termed all non-blacks (or the unequally arrayed category of non-blackness), because it is racial blackness as a necessary condition for enslavement that matters most, rather than whiteness as a sufficient condition for freedom. The structural position of the Indian slaveholder – or, for that matter, the smattering of free black slaveholders in the USA or the slaveholding mulatto elite in the Caribbean – is a case in point (Blackburn 1997; Koger 2006; Miles and Holland 2006). Freedom from the rule of slave law requires only that one be considered non-black, whether that non-black racial designation be ‘white’ or ‘Indian’ or, in the rare case, ‘Oriental’ – this despite the fact that each of these groups have at one point or another labored in conditions similar to or contiguous with enslaved African-derived groups. In other words, it is not labor relations, but propertyrelations that are constitutive of slavery. To repeat: not all free persons are white (nor are they equal or equally free), but slaves are paradigmatically black. Because blackness serves as the basis of enslavement in the logic of a transnational political and legal culture, it permanently destabilizes the position of any nominally free black population. Stuart Hall might call this the articulation of elements of a discourse, the production of a ‘non-necessary correspondence’ between the signifiers of blackness and slavery (Hall 1996). But it is the historical materialization of the logic of a transnational political and legal culture such that the contingency of its articulation is generally lost to the infrastructure of the Atlantic world that provides Wilderson a basis for the concept of a political ontology of race that locates the color line vis-a-vis slavery: black/non-black rather than white/non-white. The USA provides the point of focus here, but the dynamics under examination are not restricted to its bounds. Political ontology is not a metaphysical notion, because it is the explicit outcome of a politics and thereby available to historic challenge through collective struggle. But it is not simply a description of a political status either, even an oppressed or subjugated political status, because it functions as if it were a metaphysical property across the longue durée of the pre-modern, modern and now postmodern eras. That is to say, borrowing a distinction from Jürgen Habermas, the application of the law of racial slavery is pervasive, regardless of variance or permutation in its operation across the better part of a millennium (Habermas 1985).8 In Wilderson’s terms, the libidinal economy of anti-blackness is pervasive, regardless of variance or permutation in its political economy.9 In fact, the application of slave law among the free (i.e. the disposition that ‘with respect to the African shows no internal recognition of the libidinal costs of turning human bodies into sentient flesh’) has out- lived in the post-emancipation world a certain form of its prior operation – the property relations specific to the institution of chattel and the plantation-based agrarian economy in which it was sustained. As noted, Hartman describes this in her memoir as the afterlife of slavery: ‘a measure of man and a ranking of life and worth that has yet to be undone … a racial calculus and a political arithmetic that were entrenched centuries ago’ (Hartman 2007: 6). On that score, it is not inappropriate to say that the continuing application of slave law facilitated thereconfiguration of its operation with the passage of the Thirteenth Amendment to the US Constitution, rather than its abolition (on the conventional reading) or even its circumscription ‘as punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted’ (on the progressive reading of contemporary critics of the prison- industrial complex). It is one of the great values of Wacquant’s work, especially in Wilderson’s hands, that it provides an historical schema for tracking such reconfigurations ‘from slavery to mass incarceration’ without losing track of the structural dimension.10 The challenge for all subsequent scholarship in the overlapping fields of the sociology of race and ethnic and racial studies is to orient itself within this theoretical horizon if it is to attain what is most essential. Color Blindness White people attempt to hide whiteness see themselves as non-raced Dyer ’97 (Richard, , Professor of Film Studies at Kings College, Matter of Whiteness, P. 2, ESB) There is no more powerful position than that of being ‘just’ human. The claim to power is the claim to speak for the commonality of humanity. Raced people can’t do that - they can only speak for their race.2 But non-raced people can, for they do not represent the interests of a race. The point of seeing the racing of whites is to dislodge them/us from the position of power, with all the inequities, oppression, privileges and sufferings in its train, dislodging them/us by undercutting the authority with which they/ we speak and act in and on the world.The sense of whites as non-raced is most evident in the absence of reference to whiteness in the habitual speech and writing of white people in the West. We (whites) will speak of, say, the blackness or Chineseness of friends, neighbours, colleagues, customers or clients, and it may be in the most genuinely friendly and accepting manner, but we don’t mention the whiteness of the white people we know. An old-style white comedian will often start a joke: ‘There’s this bloke walking down the street and he meets this black geezer’, never thinking to race the bloke as well as the geezer. Synopses in listings of films on TV, where wordage is tight, none the less squander words with things like: ‘Comedy in which a cop and his black sidekick investigate a robbery’, ‘Skinhead Johnny and his Asian lover Omar set up a laundrette’, ‘Feature film from a promising Native American director’ and so on. Since all white people in the West do this all the time, it would be invidious to quote actual examples, and so I shall confine myself to one from my own writing. In an article on lesbian and gay stereotypes (Dyer 1993b), I discuss the fact that there can be variations on a type such as the queen or dyke. In the illustrations which accompany this point, I compare a ‘fashion queen’ from the film Irtne with a ‘black queen’ from Car Wash - the former, white image is not raced, whereas all the variation of the latter is reduced to his race. Moreover, this is the only non-white image referred to in the article, which does not however point out that all the other images discussed are white. In this, as in the other white examples in this paragraph, the fashion queen is, racially speaking, taken as being just human. This assumption that white people are just people, which is not far off saying that whites are people whereas other colours are something else, is endemic to white culture. Some of the sharpest criticism of it has been aimed at those who would think themselves the least racist or white supremacist, bell hooks, for instance, has noted how amazed and angry white liberals become when attention is drawn to their whiteness, when they are seen by non-white people as white. The invisibility of whiteness leads to a false sense of individual achievement: we need to see whiteness as privilege Dyer ’97 (Richard, Professor of Film Studies at Kings College, Matter of Whiteness, P. 9, ESB) It is this privilege and dominance that is at stake in analysing white racial imagery.¶ McIntosh starts from the recognition that white people don’t see their white privilege, which acts like ‘an invisible weightless knapsack of special provisions, assurances, tools, maps, guides, codebooks, passports, visas, clothes, compass, emergency gear and blank cheques’ (ibid.: 1-2). The invisibility of these assets is part and parcel of the sense that whiteness is nothing in particular, that white culture and identity have, as it were, no content. This is one of the feelings most commonly expressed by the white women interviewed by Ruth Frankenberg in her study of white identity'. She notes that ‘many of the women said that they “did not have a culture”’ (Frankenberg 1993: 192): culture, distinctive identity', one might say colour, tended to be felt as add-ons to an identity that is not itself dis¬tinctive or coloured, that lacks ‘flavour’ (ibid.: 197). As one woman (Cathy Thomas) vividly and wittily put it, ‘To be a Heinz 57 American, a white, class-confused American, land of the Kleenex type American, is so formless in and of itself (ibid.: 191),¶ Having no content, we can’t see that we have anything that accounts for our position of privilege and power. This is itself crucial to the security with which wc occupy that position. As Peggy' McIntosh argues, a white person is taught to believe that all that she or he does, good and ill, all that we achieve, is to be accounted for in terms of our individuality. It is intolerable to realise that we may get a job or a nice house, or a helpful response at school or in hospitals, because of our skin colour, not because of the unique, achieving individual we must believe ourselves to be.¶ But this then is why it is important to come to see whiteness. For those in power in the West, as long as whiteness is felt to be the human condi¬tion, then it alone both defines normality and fully inhabits it. As I suggested in my opening paragraphs, the equation of being white with being human secures a position of power. White people have power and believe that they think, feel and act like and for all people; white people, unable to see their particularity, cannot take account of other people’s; white people create the dominant images of the world and don’t quite see that they thus construct the world in their own image; white people set standards of humanity by which they are bound to succeed and others bound to fail. Most of this is not done deliberately and maliciously; there are enormous variations of power amongst white people, to do with class, gender and other factors; goodwill is not unheard of in white people’s engagement with others. White power none the less reproduces itself regardless of intention, power differences and goodwill, and overwhelm¬ingly because it is not seen as whiteness, but as normal. White people need to learn to see themselves as white, to see their particularity. In other words, whiteness needs to be made strange.¶ There is a political need to do this, but there are also problematic political feelings attendant on it, which need to be briefly signalled in order to be guarded against. The first of these is the green light problem. Writing about whiteness gives white people the go-ahead to write and talk about what in any case we have always talked about: ourselves. In, at any rate, intellectual and educational life in the West in recent years there have been challenges to the dominance of white concerns and a concomitant move towards inclusion of non-white cultures and issues. Putting whiteness on the agenda now might permit a sigh of relief that we white people don’t after all any longer have to take on all this non-white stuff. Color Line The colorline originates from and is justified by the spectacle created by whites— blacks are born into a system in which whites prevent them from crossing the colorline—the whites demand spectacles to create black inferiority. Farley 99 (Anthony Paul, Boston College Law School professor, 7/1/99, “Black Men on Race, Gender, and Sexuality”, New York University Press, 7/6/14, AX) Let the black body choose to attack itself through crime and watch as infinite resources are made available to educate its self-hatred. A prosectutor and a defense lawyer, a judge and a court recorder, a psychiatrist and a probation officer, a U.S. marshall and a city detective, a jury of near-peers and a galley of friends and strangers, and oak-lined courtroom in a beautiful courthouse, and, finally, a room of one’s own in prison will all be made available, for free, to the black body that heeds its mater’s voice and turns against itself through crime. This process educates the black body that it is criminal—the criminal justice system produces recidivism and nothing else. Thus, the system produces the very spectacle—black criminality— upon which it relies to justify its existence. ¶ These twins—“Sambo” (the Minstrel) and “Bigger Thomas” (the Criminal)—are both fictions made flesh only by the process of spectacularization. The spectacle is both the origin and the justification of the colorline. Things could not be otherwise, for it is only by means of the spectacle that whites become and remain white. And it is only by means of the spectacle that blacks become and remain black. Each of these colors is a script that we are forced to perform. ¶ The race-pleasure experienced by whites is a sadistic pleasure in that it can be produced only by the pain experienced by those whom the system marks as black. Under classic segregation, signs such as “Whites Only” accomplished the marking. Under modern neosegregation, the segregated are made to mark themselves. I am speaking today of millions of bodies made to perform the work of spectacle production by a nation addicted to whiteness. How does the ordeal work? Urban areas are first stript-mined of opportunities of any kind of left, quite literally, toxic with lead paint, carbon dioxide, rat and roach fecal matter, and a host of other organic and inorganic pathogens. These urban areas, defoliated as if to reveal some secret Ho Chi Minh trail, are then marked as bantustans for black. I call these areas, collectively, the Neocolony or Golgotha. Black bodies are then banished, like lepers, to the Neocolony. Not every black body resides in the Neocolony; however, those that exist in other sites are, like plague victims in the Middle Ages, quarantined. Let a black body move through a whiteidentified space and watch the enforces of the quarantine, police and private citizens alike, move into action and use their prophylactic suspicious to prevent the black plague from crossing the colorline. Thus the stage is set for peculiar passion play required of blacks by whites, the performance of spectacle. ¶ The colorline is the boundary of a site of production: the Neocolony is not simply a wasteland. The Neocolony, which simultaneously exists in the nonspaces of banishment and quarantine is a factory. The black body is made to produce the spectacle of its own degradation. The bodies within the Neocolony are turned, each against the other, by the very desperation of the situation. In a mass surrender to their torturers they often become that which their masters require them to be: inferior. Black criminality and black incompetence are not accidents; rather they are demands. We should think of them as production orders, or stage directions, from white America to the Neocolony. ¶ Democracy The Black Subject's Absence from all State or Capital Formations Functions as the Basis of the American Democracy but Kills and Exploits Itself. Moreover, it Calls Into Question Productivity Wilderson, 03 (Frank, “Gramsci's Black Marx: Whither the Slave in Civil Society” an American writer, dramatist, filmmaker and critic. He is a full professor of Drama and African American studies at the University of California, Irvine. Pp. 6-8, AF) The value of reintroducing the unthought category of the slave, by way of noting the absence of the Black subject, lies in the Black subject’s potential for extending the demand placed on state/capital formations because its reintroduction into the discourse expands the intensity of the antagonism. In other words, the slave makes a demand, which is in excess of the demand made by the worker. The worker demands that productivity be fair and democratic (Gramsci's new hegemony, Lenin's dictatorship of the proletariat), the slave, on the other hand, demands that production stop; stop without recourse to its ultimate democratization. Work is not an organic principle for the slave. The absence of Black subjectivity from the crux of marxist discourse is symptomatic of the discourse's inability to cope with the possibility that the generative subject of capitalism, the Black body of the 15th and 16th centuries, and the generative subject that resolves late-capital's over-accumulation crisis, the Black (incarcerated) body of the 20th and 21st centuries, do not reify the basic categories which structure marxist conflict: the categories of work, production, exploitation, historical self-awareness and, above all, hegemony. If, by way of the Black subject, we consider the underlying grammar of the question What does it mean to be free? that grammar being the question What does it mean to suffer? then we come up against a grammar of suffering not only in excess of any semiotics of exploitation, but a grammar of suffering beyond signification itself, a suffering that cannot be spoken because the gratuitous terror of White supremacy is as much contingent upon the irrationality of White fantasies and shared pleasures as it is upon a logic—the logic of capital. It extends beyond texualization. When talking about this terror, Cornel West uses the term “black invisibility and namelessness” to designate, at the level of ontology, what we are calling a scandal at the level of discourse. He writes: [America's] unrelenting assault on black humanity produced the fundamental condition of black culture -- that of black invisibility and namelessness. On the crucial existential level relating to black invisibility and namelessness, the first difficult challenge and demanding discipline is to ward off madness and discredit suicide as a desirable option. A central preoccupation of black culture is that of confronting candidly the ontological wounds, psychic scars, and existential bruises of black people while fending off insanity and selfannihilation. This is why the "ur-text" of black culture is neither a word nor a book, not and architectural monument or a legal brief. Instead, it is a guttural cry and a wrenching moan -- a cry not so much for help as for home, a moan less out of complaint than for recognition. (8081) Thus, the Black subject position in America is an antagonism, a demand that can not be satisfied through a transfer of ownership/organization of existing rubrics; whereas the Gramscian subject, the worker, represents a demand that can indeed be satisfied by way of a successful War of Position, which brings about the end of exploitation. The worker calls into question the legitimacy of productive practices, the slave calls into question the legitimacy of productivity itself. From the positionality of the worker the question, What does it mean to be free? is raised. But the question hides the process by which the discourse assumes a hidden grammar which has already posed and answered the question, What does it mean to suffer? And that grammar is organized around the categories of exploitation (unfair labor relations or wage slavery). Thus, exploitation (wage slavery) is the only category of oppression which concerns Gramsci: society, Western society, thrives on the exploitation of the Gramscian subject. Full stop. Again, this is inadequate, because it would call White supremacy "racism" and articulate it as a derivative phenomenon of the capitalist matrix, rather than incorporating White supremacy as a matrix constituent to the base, if not the base itself. What I am saying is that the insatiability of the slave demand upon existing structures means that it cannot find its articulation within the modality of hegemony (influence, leadership, consent)—the Black body can not give its consent because “generalized trust,” the precondition for the solicitation of consent, “equals racialized whiteness ” (Lindon Barrett). Furthermore, as Orland Patterson points out, slavery is natal alienation by way of social death , which is to say that a slave has no symbolic currency or material labor power to exchange: a slave does not enter into a transaction of value (however asymmetrical) but is subsumed by direct relations of force, which is to say that a slave is an articulation of a despotic irrationality whereas the worker is an articulation of a symbolic rationality. White supremacy’s despotic irrationality is as foundational to American institutionality as capitalism’s symbolic rationality because, as Cornel West writes, it… …dictates the limits of the operation of American democracy -- with black folk the indispensable sacrificial lamb vital to its sustenance. Hence black subordination constitutes the necessary condition for the flourishing of American democracy, the tragic prerequisite for America itself. This is, in part, what Richard Wright meant when he noted, "The Negro is America's metaphor." (72) And it is well known that a metaphor comes into being through a violence which kills, rather than merely exploits, the object, that the concept might live. West's interventions help us see how marxism can only come to grips with America's structuring rationality -- what it calls capitalism, or political economy; but cannot come to grips with America's structuring irrationality: the libidinal economy of White supremacy, and its hyper-discursive violence which kills the Black subject that the concept, civil society, may live. In other words, from the incoherence of Black death, America generates the coherence of White life. This is important when thinking the Gramscian paradigm (and its progenitors in the world of U.S. social movements today) which is so dependent on the empirical status of hegemony and civil society: struggles over hegemony are seldom, if ever, asignifying—at some point they require coherence, they require categories for the record—which means they contain the seeds of anti-Blackness. Let us illustrate this by way of a hypothetical scenario. In the early part of the 20th century, civil society in Chicago grew up, if you will, around emerging industries such as meat packing. In his notes on “Americanism and Fordism” (280-314), Gramsci explores the “scientific management” of Taylorism, the prohibition on alcohol, and Fordist interventions into the working class family, which formed the ideological, value-laden grid of civil society in places like turn of the century Chicago: Education The Modern Educational System Reentrenches the White-Over-Black System and Continues to Shield the Persistence of Institutionalized Racism Farley 5, Anthony. Prof. Farley specializes in Constitutional Law, Criminal Procedure and Legal Theory. Taught at Boston College Before Teaching at Albany “Perfecting Slavery” Page 230-231 Slavery, our slavery, begins and ends with white-over-black. It sometimes seems that we have moved away from the tyranny, from the terror, from slavery’s death to some New England town meeting that includes, or will quite soon include, the souls of all those hitherto enslaved black folk. 27 It sometimes seems to some of us that we are on the verge of some great gettin’ up mornin’ in which the dead will awaken, the many thousands gone will return, and all will be right as rain, right as rain and without the thunder. We are said to have moved from slavery to segregation to neosegregation. Free at last! Free at last! Free at last! Or so our masters tell us. But the fire bell is still ringing in the night, somewhere behind the wall of sleep, and all is not as it seems in the Promised Land of the Civil Rights Movement dream. Before the morning is night and memory and forgetting will not let us simply declare things to be alright. Slavery is white-over-black. Segregation is white-over-black. Neosegregation is white-over-black. The movement, then, from slavery to segregation to neosegregation, from the so-called past to the so-called present, from then to now, is movement from white-over-black to whiteover-black to white-over-black, and that is not movement. That is the motionlessness of death. The so-called Civil Rights Movement has taken us from white-over-black to white-over- black to white-overblack. White-over-black, whatever its juridical designation, is slavery. Slavery is death. The end, death, requires a beginning. White-overblack begins where it ends. White-over-black begins with death. Education is where we begin. We begin after we are called. We are called and that is when and how we all begin. There is a calling. We are called upon to be. We can only be by becoming. What we become depends upon the calling that we choose to follow. We become the calling that we make our own. Jonathan Kozol writes of education in the neosegregated, postBrown v. Board of Education era as “death at an early age.” 29 White-over-black is death at an early age. Slaves are not called. Slavery is death. Education is where this death begins. 28 Embodiment By trying to put yourself in the body of a black person you are putting yourself in control of the body which leads to the exploitation and forcible whiteness of the slave. Hartman, 3. (professor at Columbia University specializing in African American literature and history, and Wilderson III, professor of African American Studies @ UC Irvine, Saidiya and Frank B, published Spring/Summer 2003, The Position of the Unthought, pg 185-186) Right. You know, as I was writing Scenes of Subjection, ¶ S. VH. - ¶ there was a whole spate of books on nineteenth-century culture ¶ and on minstrelsy in particular. And there was a certain sense in ¶ which the ability to occupy blackness was considered transgressive ¶ or as a way of refashioning whiteness, and there were all these rad ¶ ical claims that were being made for it.14 And I thought, "Oh, no, ¶ this is just an extension of the master's prerogative." It doesn't mat ¶ ter whether you do good or you do bad, the crux is that you can ¶ choose to do what you wish with the black body. That's why think ¶ ing about the dynamics of enjoyment in terms of the material rela ¶ tions of slavery was so key for me.¶ F.W -Yes, that's clarifying. A body that you can do what you want¶ with. In your discussion of the body as the property of enjoyment, ¶ what I really like is when you talk about Rankin. Here's a guy¶ like the prototypical twentieth-century white progressive¶ anti-slavery and uses his powers of observation to write for its abo¶ lition, even to his slave-owning brother. He's in the South, he's¶ looking at a slave coffle, and he imagines that these slaves being¶ beaten could be himself and his family. Through this process it¶ makes sense to him, it becomes meaningful. His body and his fam¶ ily members' white bodies become proxies for real enslaved black ¶ bodies and, as you point out, the actual object of identification, the ¶ slave, disappears.¶ S.V.H. - I think that gets at one of the fundamental ethical ques ¶ tions/problems/crises for the West: the status of difference and the ¶ status of the other. It's as though in order to come to any recogni ¶ tion of common humanity, the other must be assimilated, meaning ¶ in this case, utterly displaced and effaced: "Only if I can see myself ¶ in that position can I understand the crisis of that position." That is ¶ the logic of the moral and political discourses we see everyday ¶ the need for the innocent black subject to be victimized by a racist ¶ state in order to see the racism of the racist state. You have to be ¶ exemplary in your goodness, as opposed to .. . ¶ F.W. - ¶ [laughter] A nigga on the warpath! ¶ S. V.H. - ¶ Exactly! For me it was those moments that were the most¶ - the moments of the sympathetic ally, who in some ways¶ telling ¶ is actually no more able to see the slave than the person who is ¶ exploiting him or her as their property. That is the work Rankin ¶ does and I think it suggests just how ubiquitous that kind of vio ¶ lence, in fact, is. Exploration The desire to explore the unknown is intimately tied to the desire to execute violence against the unknown – the 1ac’s act of exploration carries with it a history soaked in the blood of the middle passage Spillers, 87 (Hortense, 1987, Gertrude Conaway Vanderbilt Professor @ Vanderbilt University The John Hopkins University Press, “Mama's Baby, Papa's Maybe: An American Grammar Book”, http://web.calstatela.edu/faculty/jgarret/texts/spillers.pdf, 7/8/14, KM) Turning directly to this source, we discover what we had not expected to find – that this aspect of the search is rendered problematic and that observations of a field of manners and its related sociometries are an outgrowth of the industry of the “exterior other” [Todorv 3], called “anthropology” later on. The European males who laded and captained these galleys and who policed and corralled these human beings, in hundreds of vessels from Liverpool to Elmina, to Jamaica; from the Cayenne Islands, to the ports at Charleston and Salem, and for three centuries of human life, were not curious about this “cargo” that bled, packed like so many live sardines among the immovable objects. Such inveterate obscene blindness might be denied, point blank, as a possibility for anyone, except that we know it happened. ¶ Donna’s first volume covers three centuries of European discovery and conquest, beginning 50 years before pious Cristobal, Christum Ferens, the bearer of Christ, laid claim to what he thought was the “indies.” From Gomes Eannes de Azurara’s Chronicle of the Discovery and Conquest of Guinea, 1441-1448” [Donnan 1:18-41], we learn that the Portuguese probably gain the dubious distinction of having introduced black Africans to the European market of servitude. We are also reminded that “Geography” is not a divine gift. Quite to the contrary, its boundaries were shifted during the European “Age of Conquest” in giddy desperation, according to the dictates of conquering armies, the edicts of prelates, the peculiar myopia of the medieval Christian mind. Looking for the “Nile River,” for example, according to the fifteenthcentury Portuguese notion, is someone’s joke. For all that the pre-Columbian “explorers” knew about the sciences of navigation and geography, we are surprised that more parties of them did not end up “discovering” Europe. Perhaps, from a certain angle, that is precisely all that they found – an alternative reading of ego. The Portuguese, having little idea where the Nile ran, at least understood right away that there were men and women darker-skinned than themselves, but they were not specifically knowledgeable, or ingenious, about the various families and groupings represented by them. De Azurara records encounters with “Moors,” “Mooresses,” “Mulattoes,” and people “black as Ethiops” [1:28], but it seems that the “Land of Guinea,” or of “Black Men,” or of “The Negros” [1:35] was located anywhere southeast of Cape Verde, the Canaries, and the River Senegal, looking at an eighteenth-century European version of the subsarharan Continent along the West African coast [1:frontispiece]. ¶ Three genetic distinctions are available to the Portuguese eye, all along the riffs of melanin in the skin: in a field of captives, some of the observed are “white enough, fair to look upon, and wellproportioned.” Others are less “white like mulattoes,” and still others “black as Ethiops, and so ugly, both in features and in body, as almost to appear (to those who saw them) the images of a lower hemisphere” [1:28]. By implication, this “third man,” standing for the most aberrant phenotype to the observing eye, embodies the linguistic community most unknown to the European. Arabic translators among the Europeans could at least “talk” to the “Moors” and instruct them to ransom themselves, or else… ¶ Typically, there is in this grammar of description the perspective of “declension,” not of simultaneity, and its point of initiation is solipsistic – it begins with a narrative self, in an apparent unity of feeling, and unlike Equiano, who also saw “ugly” when he looked out, this collective self uncovers the means by which to subjugate the “foreign code of conscience,” whose most easily remarkable and irremediable difference is perceived in skin color. By the time of De Azurara’s mid-fifteenth century narrative and a century and a half before Shakespeare’s “old black ram” of an Othello “tups” that “white ewe” of a Desdemona, the magic of skin color is already installed as a decisive factor in human dealings. ¶ In De Azurara’s narrative, we observe males looking at other males, as “female” is subsumed here under the general category of estrangement. Few places in these excerpts carve out a distinct female space, though there are moments of portrayal that perceive female captives in the implications of socio-cultural function. When the field of captives (referred to above) is divided among the spoilers, no heed is paid to relations, as fathers are separated from sons, husbands from wives, brothers from sisters and brothers, mothers from children – male and female. It seems clear that the political program of European Christianity promotes this hierarchical view among males, although it remains puzzling to us exactly how this version of Christianity transforms the “pagan” also into the “ugly.” It appears that human beings came up with degrees of “fair” and then the “hideous,” in its overtones of bestiality, as the opposite of “fair,” all by themselves, without stage direction, even though there is the curious and blazing exception of Nietzsche’s Socrates, who was Athen’s ugliest and wisest and best citizen. The intimate choreography that the Portuguese narrator sets going between the “faithless” and the “ugly” transforms a partnership of dancers into a single figure. Once the “faithless,” indiscriminate of the three stops of Portuguese skin color, are transported to Europe, they become an altered human factor: ¶ And so their lot was now quite contrary to what it had been, since before they had lived in perdition of soul and body; of their souls, in that they were yet pagans, without the clearness and the light of the Holy Faith; and of their bodies, in that they lived like beasts, without any custom of reasonable beings – for they had no knowledge of bread and wine, and they were without covering of clothes, or the lodgment of houses; and worse than all, through the great ignorance that was in them, in that they had no understanding of good, but only knew how to live in bestial sloth. [1:30] ¶ Globalization Globalization ushers in a new form of Apartheid that makes war and antiblackness inevitable Sexton, 8 [Jared, associate professor of African American studies and film and media studies @ UC Irvine, “Amalgamation Schemes: Antiblackness and the Critique of Multiracialism,” page 239-244] The immanence of global capital in no way prevents the drawing of internal lines of exclusion. As Giovanni Arrighi (1995) states, “Entire communities, countries, even continents, as in the case of sub-Saharan Africa, have been declared ‘redundant,’ superfluous to the changing economy of capitalist accumulation on a world scale.” In the wake of the cold war, “the unplugging of these ‘redundant’ communities and locales from the world supply system has triggered innumerable, mostly violent feuds . . . over the appropriation of resources that were made absolutely scarce by the unplugging” (330). Managing such feuds—fueling them and containing them in order to profit from them—has become a principal strategic concern of the new global hegemony and the indispensable underside of its political economic globalization (Bhattacharyya 2005). It is carried forward by means of a brutal geopolitics, at the heart of which lie black populations: north, south, east, and west. Achille Mbembe (1999) notes, for instance, that “the African experience shows that in the age of globalization bringing the world climate under control involves of necessity the forcible breaking-down of existing territorial frameworks . . . and the simultaneous erection of shifting areas and areas in which populations judged to be superfluous can be corralled and their mobility limited .” For those consigned to decomposition “on the outskirts of the great technological changes going on today,” deterritorialization “goes hand-in-hand with the setting up of a constraint economy, designed quite simply to get rid of their unwanted populations and exploit their resources in the raw state.” “In these circumstances,” after the breakdown of the “three worlds” heuristic, “war seen as a general economic system no longer necessarily pits those who have the weapons against each other. Preferably, it sets those who have weapons against those who have none” (Mbembe 1999). Weapons include not only structural adjustment policies (SAP) and increased militarization, recently known in the United States as “the prison-welfare-industrial complex” (Davis 2003; Wacquant 2005) but also, returning to our earlier point, the new forms of apartheid intended for the spatial containment of AIDS (Dean 2000).3 Immobilization and exclusion: counterparts to the accelerated mobility and intercourse of people, goods, and information that typically register in descriptions of the new global context (Bauman 2000). From this vantage, it is imperative to recall that “the ‘Grab for Africa’ . . . was the high-water mark of European imperialism, and the frenzy for possessions was certainly underlain by the sense of the closing of the world.” It was, in other words, “the great time of the ‘tracing of lines’ in the chancelleries of Europe” (Parker 1998, 2425n4). We reencounter this rehabilitated geopolitical inscription today—still Eurocentric—but underlain now by the sense of the closing of the world of a qualitatively different order. The effects of the consummate geography of capital on subjectivity are titanic. The catastrophic consequences described by Gilroy have now become generalized as the conditions of possibility for human being. “Capitalist power actualizes itself in a basically uninhabitable space of fear. That much is universal. The particulars of the uninhabitable landscape of fear in which a given body nevertheless dwells vary according to the socially valorized distinctions applied to it by selective mechanisms of power im-planted throughout the social field” (Massumi 1993, 24). For Brian Mas- sumi, the paradigmatic subject of this universal fear is white, bourgeois, metropolitan, and female; the paradigmatic source is public, unmediated, anonymous, and sexualized. “An urbanized North American woman dwells in the space of potential rape and battering. Her movements and emotions are controlled (filtered, channeled) by the immanence of sexual violence to every coordinate of her socio-geographical space-time.” This image is deliberately evoked as a cliche. It is Massumi’s point to demonstrate its iconic status, its readymade legibility, its status as an omnipresent screen of projection, circulating as ubiquitous collective fantasy in print media, television, and film culture. However, there is a twist to the trope of the imperiled white woman vulnerable to sexual violence. “Capitalist power determines being a woman as the future-past of male violence. . . . [Yet] the ‘flow of stupidity’ in contemporary society [‘perception and intellection restricted to a recognition reflex’] consists in the translation of the ‘she’ to the ‘we' of everywoman to everyone: a loss of the specificity of the landscape of fear” (24; emphasis added). Massumi writes at some length about the “fear-blur” produced in this situation, especially by the machinations of mass media. “It is vague by nature,” he claims. “It is low-level fear. A kind of background radiation saturating existence. . . . It may be expressed as ‘panic’ or ‘hysteria’ or ‘phobia’ or ‘anxiety.’ But,” he continues, “these are to low-level fear what ‘HIV’ is to AIDS: signs of subjectivity in capitalist crisis. The self, like AIDS, is a syndrome” (24-25): “a complex of effects coming from no single, isolat- able place, without a linear history, and exhibiting no invariant character-istics” (11). The introduction of the concept of the syndrome marks out a requisite shift in analytical frameworks to the extent that syndromes, unlike symptoms, “mark the limit of causal analysis. They cannot be exhaustively understood—only pragmatically altered by experimental interventions operating in several spheres of activity at once” (31). To take up this challenge is to pursue a “syndromatic” analysis.4 Bearing in mind the difficulties for analysis engendered by the syndrome of capitalist subjectivity, the generalization of the white woman’s fear of “potential rape and battering,” we can still suppose that this ambient, low-level fear is overdetermined by what Fanon calls “the racial distribution of guilt” in the antiblack world (1967, 103). “Here the Negro is the master,” he remarks sardonically. “He is the specialist of this matter: whoever says rape says Negro” (166). That AIDS, in its symbolic soldering to the black body, is widely considered to be “the privileged locus of biofear production” (Massumi 1993, vii) only compounds this atmospheric dread. If, as Baxandall (1995) suggests, “the fear of AIDS has made sexual contact increasingly stigmatized” (243), then this fear is amplified by the legacies of negrophobia in which, as noted previously, “the Negro symbolizes the biological danger” (Fanon 1967, 165). The contemporary fear of AIDS reinvigorates a longstanding premise of antimiscegenation: the fear that sexual contact with black bodies will turn over into violence, that such contact in and of itself constitutes violence, a site of brutality or morbid contamination or both. To speak of the “fear” of AIDS is, of course, to understate the case, just as it is an understatement to speak “simply” of negrophobia. The loathing relative to AIDS is far more radical than the affective condition of fear suggests. We are facing, rather, what Dean (2000) describes as “wholesale repudiation by a society that refuses to admit a signifier for AIDS” (99). By persistently representing itself as having a “general population” that remains largely immune to incidence of AIDS, the United States [and global civil society] pushes AIDS—and the social groups seen as representing AIDS—to the outside of its psychic and social economies, treating them exactly like shit. (99) The fate of AIDS and the fate of the black are fundamentally intertwined: rendered in the symbolic order as abject, fecal objects. Symbolizing the danger faced by the body in the throes of globalization, the confusion of boundaries marking inside from out, and a crisis in the scale of cognitive mapping (Jameson 1998b); shuttled between disciplined mobility and the lethal economy of constraint; AIDS, like blackness, should be understood “as a condition of the body, an index of the body’s vulnerability” (Dean 2000, 98). The constitutive outside of society’s political and libidinal economies is, of course, located differently across the globe. In the deindustrialized urban areas of the North, particularly in the United States, it is operated most prominently by the practices of policing and crystallized in the overt use of the racial profile. It is put into effect much more powerfully by the virtual expulsion of sub-Saharan Africa from the global political economy, a structural exile beneath what we might call “the arc of the global South.” This continental prohibition, a demarcation internal to the underdeveloped regions, may require reconfiguration of the global imaginary—and the nomenclature of theory, culture, and politics—away from the present NorthSouth axis, useful as it may be in some respects, toward an uneven East-West partnership as the definitive vector in the movement of globalization. In the United States, a fractal reflection of the “global racial formation” (Winant 2001) is observable. Pierre Bourdieu notes, for instance, The “Charitable State,” founded on the moralizing conception of poverty, tends to bifurcate into a Social State which assures minimal guarantees of security for the middle classes, and an increasingly repressive state counteracting the effects of violence which results from the increasingly precarious condition of the large mass of the population, notably the black (quoted in Bauman 2000, 103). I will only mention the litany of social indicators for this “increasingly precarious condition”: unparalleled rates of residential and educational segregation (Massey and Denton 1998), unemployment (Wilson 1996), premature death by preventable disease and toxic environments (Bullard 1994; Semmes 1996), homicide (Hutchinson 2002), imprisonment and surveillance (Mauer 1999), and so forth. Within the politics of multiracialism, the isolation and criminalization of blackness is transmuted into a concern for the unwillingness of the black population to participate in “the browning of America” (Root 1995).5 Conservative critics cite the clannishness of black community, its atavistic investment in notions of black pride and the reproduction of the one-drop rule, that is, the internalization of racist rules of identification that make blacks, at worst, “more separatist inspired than . . . the long-standing white power structure” (Byrd 1996). Liberal critics, in turn, bemoan the tenacity of attitudinal barriers to intimate relations between blacks and nonblacks, but only to advance their forced assimilation in the name of national unity (Lind 1998). This mainstream apprehension finds its alter ego in the unwavering theater of panic staged in explicit white supremacist discourse. If, as Ferber (1998) says, “it is an understate-ment to claim that white supremacy is obsessed with interracial sexuality,” then that compulsion to repeat finds its firmest moorings in the idea of the sex/violence of blacks. It is here that we find ourselves undergoing a globalization without Africa, a multiracialism without blacks, a world community in which the color line becomes etched more deeply even as it is, in some quarters, dissolved. Globalization and multiracialism shift the color line so that Blackness is no longer biological Sexton 8, [Jared, associate professor of African American studies and film and media studies, “Amalgamation Schemes: Antiblackness and the Critique of Multiracialism,” page 231-234] At the turn of the twenty-first century, Fredric Jameson (1998b) announced that “the state of things the word globalization attempts to designate will be with us for a long time to come; and . . . its theorization . . . will constitute the horizon of all theory in the years ahead” (xvi). It would thus seem that any intellectual project accompanying the historical movement of black liberation—whose intervention sustains the current position of enunciation—must take as central the series of questions posed by the term. We might posit the reverse as well: anyone thinking seriously about globalization, particularly those hoping to organize political resistance to it, cannot afford to elide the question of black liberation without missing something essential to its unfolding. It is my suspicion that this vital consideration, made only more pointed by the ambivalent rendering of race mixture, forces an uncanny encounter with the black body—its capacities, its energies, its appearance as well as its structured installation in the nexus of sexuality and violence. In each case noted previously (the white supremacist movement, the global sex industries, the discourse of multiracialism), it is the image of the black body that throws the apparatus of representation into unmitigated crisis. “The history of racism is a narrative in which the congruency of micro- and macrocosm has been disrupted at the point of their analogical intersection: the human body” (Gilroy 1997, 192). This prescient point, offered by Paul Gilroy in his essay “Scales and Eyes,” bears significantly on the present effort. The body presents a problem, a point of disruption, for the historical narrative of racism. It has failed to lend itself, once and for all, to a stable designation. As Gilroy asks, “Has anyone ever been able to say exactly how many ‘races’ there are, let alone how skin shade should correspond to them” (195)? Of course, the answer is no, but we have seen that the indeterminacy of race in “the order of active differentiation” (192) has not proved insurmountable, even if it is inescapable. Quite the contrary, this perennial difficulty has given rise to a frenetic succession of methods designed for specifying human difference that characterize the protean nature of modernity’s “most pernicious signature” (192). In the current moment, we confront a novel question: “What does that trope ‘race’ mean in the age of molecular biology” (192)? For Gilroy, we now inhabit “a space beyond comparative anatomy” where “the body and its obvious, functional components no longer delimit the scale upon which assessments of the unity and variation of the species are to be made” (194). Our collective estrangement from anatomical scale has rendered the eye inadequate, if it ever was, “to the tasks of evaluation and description demanded” by racial segregation. Thus, the ascendancy of what he terms “nanopolitics” “departs from the scalar assumptions asso-ciated with anatomical difference [and] accelerates [a] vertiginous, inward movement towards the explanatory power of ever-smaller scopic regimes” (193). Indeed, this one-way movement, “downwards and inwards,” locks the racializing project into a perpetual search for the zero degree of difference. However, if racial difference “cannot be readily correlated with genetic variation” (194), the most basic level of differentiation known to date, at what level can it be asserted, maintained, legitimated? Or is it destined simply to remain anxious and uncertain, forever suspicious? Gilroy is less than sanguine about these developments. Although skepticism about “the status of visible differences” is welcomed for the trouble it causes to the paradigm of comparative anatomy, there is no indication that the calibration of “human sameness” and “human diversity” will diminish in political importance. The frustration of this procedure at one scale does not prevent its seeking refuge by burrowing deeper into the flesh, the viscera, the blood, the DNA. Gilroy asks, “Can a different sense of scale and scaling form a counterweight to the appeal of absolute particularity celebrated under the sign of ‘race’?” “Can it answer the seductions of self and kind projected onto the surface of the body?” Scarcely: the repudiation of surface-level sameness by “the proliferation of invisible differences” remains an object of aggravated fascination insofar as such differences are understood to “produce catastrophic consequences where people are not what they seem to be” (192). We are familiar with the vast literature regarding the thematic of racial passing in and beyond the United States, which often sensationally features the scandal of seeming to be white when one is, “in truth,” something else (Ginsberg 1996; Sanchez and Schlossberg 2001). Today, the fear of invisible blackness commingles with the global traffic in hypervisible blackness, the premier consumer product. Across the globe, one can play at blackness, selectively appropriating “everything but the burden,” to borrow Greg Tate’s (2003) apt phrase. Yet, Gilroy’s remarks on the crisis of visible difference invoke another catastrophic consequence not unrelated to an unsuspected or invisible blackness. Visible differences, he notes, not only prove unreliable in determinations of race, they also “do not . . . tell us everything we need to know about the health- status of the people we want to have sex with” (192). They really never did, of course, but Gilroy’s comment here makes reference to another “catastrophic consequence” associated with the age of molecular biology: AIDS. He concludes his essay as follows: With the body figured an epiphenomenon of coded information, this aesthetics [of racial difference] is now residual. The skin may no longer be privileged as the threshold of identity. There are good reasons to suppose that the line between inside and outside now falls elsewhere. (196) This other threshold of identity, this newly privileged “elsewhere” that now houses the persistent dividing line, is located within the body, tracking an invisible presence that demotes and denotes the significance of the bodily surface. It is, in effect, a displacement of the skin as the preeminent sign of race. Here we note a convergence with the project of multiracialism discussed at the outset: for different reasons, both developments portend the obstruction or unraveling of racialization in the field of vision— one betting on the increasing difficulty of making clear discriminations on the surface, the other devaluing the surface altogether. However, nothing in Gilroy’s account alludes to the wholesale replacement of the surface by the interior, wherein the latter simply supplants the former. More likely, we have an augmentation of racial difference, an alloy of the inner and outer, by way of the discourses of biotechnology and genetic science. Similarly, the blurring of the color line prophesied by multiracialism provides the occasion, within the imagination of white supremacy and antiblackness, for a redoubled effort to police it. In this respect, the surface becomes a more intense object of observation precisely because it has become more unreliable as a sign of race. Hegemony (cultural) Hegemonic Cultures begin to think that they are superior – this leads to wars based on culture under the guises of virtue and nation – this is exactly what occurred in Europe Snead 81 (James, James Arthur Snead was a professor, fiction writer, and film critic whose academic work analyzed literary modernism"On Repetition in Black Culture"; Black American Literature Forum, Vol. 15, No. 4; published in 1981; p. 147-148) In certain cases, culture, in projecting an image for others, claims a radical difference from others, often further defined qualitatively as superiority. Already, in this insistence on uniqueness and "higher" development, we sense a linear, anthropomorphic drive. For centuries (and especially within the last three), Europe has found itself in hot contest internally over this very issue. Culture has been territorialized and, with it, groups of its diverse adherents. Cultural wars have become territorial wars have become cultural wars again, and indeed into this maelstrom have been sucked concepts of "race," "virtue," and "nation," never to re-emerge.6 Not so much the content of these cross-cultural feuds startles as the vehemence and aggression with which groups of people wrangle over where one coverage ends and another begins. The incipient desire to define "race" and "culture" in the same breath as "identity" and "nationality" finally coincides with great upheavals of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries in Europe among them, the overturning of the feudal monarchies of Central Europe and the discovery and subjugation of black and brown masses across the seas. Herein the word culture gains two fateful senses: "that with which one whole group aggressively defines its superiority vis-?-vis another" and, a finer one, "that held at a level above the group or mass, for the benefit of the culture as a whole, by the conscious few (i.e., the distinction between haute and basse culture)."7 At the same time as Europeans were defining themselves over against other European nations, and some of them even against members of their own nations, they were also busy defining "European culture" as separate from "African culture," the ultimate otherness, the final mass. Only having now reached this stage can we make any sense whatever of the notion of "black culture" and what it might oppose.8 "Black culture" is a concept first created by Europeans and defined in opposition to "European culture." Hegel, for example, saw "black culture" as the lowest stage of that laudable self-reflection and development shown by European culture whose natural outcome must be the state or nationhood. In his by no means atypical nineteenthcentury view, Hegel said that black culture simply did not exist in the same sense as European culture did. Black culture (as one of several non-Western cultures) had no self-expression (i.e., no writing); there was no black Volksgeist, as in Europe, and not even particular tribes or groupings of Africans seemed in the least concerned to define themselves on the basis of any particular Volksgeist. Hegel (like most of Europe) was confused by the African: Where did blacks fit into "the course of world history"?9: “In this main portion of Africa there can really be no history. There is a succession of accidents and surprises. There is no goal, no state there that one can follow, no subjectivity, but only a series of subjects, who destroy each other. There has as yet been little comment upon how strange a form of self-consciousness this represents.” Hegemony brings increases forceful submission to the government, especially in the context of blackness – hegemonic celebration of the oppressed also results in the loss of the ideal of consent Hartman, 3. (professor at Columbia University specializing in African American literature and history, and Wilderson III, professor of African American Studies @ UC Irvine, Saidiya and Frank B, published Spring/Summer 2003, The Position of the Unthought, pg 185-186) S.VH. - But I think there's a certain integrationist rights agenda ¶ that subjects who are variously positioned on the color line can ¶ take up. And that project is something I consider obscene: the ¶ attempt to make the narrative of defeat into an opportunity for cel ¶ ebration, the desire to look at the ravages and the brutality of the ¶ last few centuries, but to still find a way to feel good about our ¶ selves. That's not my project at all, though I think it's actually the ¶ project of a number of people. Unfortunately, the kind of social¶ revisionist history undertaken by many leftists in the 1 970s, who¶ were trying to locate the agency of dominated groups, resulted in ¶ celebratory narratives of the oppressed.4 Ultimately, it bled into this celebration, as if there was a space you could carve out of the ter¶ rorizing state apparatus in order to exist outside its clutches and ¶ forge some autonomy. My project is a different one. And in partic ¶ ular, one of my hidden polemics in the book was an argument ¶ against the notion of hegemony, and how that notion has been¶ taken up in the context of looking at the status of the slave.¶ F W - That's very interesting, because it's something I've been¶ thinking about also in respect to Gramsci. Because Anne Showstack ¶ Sassoon suggests that Gramsci breaks down hegemony into three ¶ categories: influence, leadership, and consent.5 Maybe we could ¶ bring the discussion back to your text then, using the examples of ¶ Harriet Jacobs,6 a slave, and John Rankin,7 a white anti-slavery ¶ Northerner, as ways in which to talk about this. Now, what's really ¶ interesting is that in your chapter "Seduction and the Ruses of ¶ Power," you not only explain how the positional ity of black women¶ and white women differs, but you also suggest how blackness dis¶ articulates the notion of consent, if we are to think of that notion as ¶ universal. You write: "[B]eing forced to submit to the will of the ¶ master in all things defines the predicament of slavery" (S, 110). In ¶ other words, the female slave is a possessed, accumulated, and fun ¶ gible object, which is to say that she is ontologically different than ¶ a white woman who may, as a house servant or indentured labor ¶ er, be a subordinated subject. You go on to say, "The opportunity for ¶ nonconsent [as regards, in this case, sex] is required to establish ¶ consent, for consent is meaningless if refusal is not an option.... ¶ Consent is unseemly in a context in which the very notion of sub¶ jectivity is predicated upon the negation of will" (S, 111). Humanism The aff’s universal account of persons is the taciturn violence of social stability, the slave kick starts modernity and the condition of possibility for action. Wilderson 2010 [Frank B., Professor of African American Studies at UC Irvine, Red, White & Black: Cinema and the Structure of U.S. Antagonisms, pages 43-45] Due to the presence of prior existing relations in a world of contemporaries, no “fear of the fear of the world” is at stake when White theorists meditate ontologically (whether through a cultural object such as film or on a set of intellectual protocols) and find—as do their Black colleagues—capacity everywhere. It would be more accurate to say not that they find capacity everywhere, since they do not look everywhere, but that they find it where they there is nothing homeostatic about the White (or other Humans). If the Black is death personified, the White is the personification of diversity, or life itself. As Richard Dyer reminds us, “The invisibility of whiteness as a racial position in white… discourse is of a piece with its ubiquity. When I said above that this book wasn’t merely seeking to fill a gap in the analysis of racial imagery, I reproduced the idea that there is no discussion of white people. In fact for most of the time white people speak about nothing but white people, it’s just that we couch it in terms of ‘people’ in general…Yet precisely because of this and their placing as norm [Whites] seem not to be represented to themselves as whites but as people who are variously gendered, classed, sexualized and abled.” Thus the threat of discovering oneself in one’s own scholarly or artistic endeavors as “comparison” is not a fate that awaits White academics. White academics’ disavowal of Black death as modernity’s condition of possibility (their inability to imagine their productive subjectivity as an effect of the Negro) stems not from the unbearable terror of that (non)self-discovery always already awaiting the Black, but from the fact that, save brief and infrequent conjunctures of large-scale Black violence (eighteenth- and nineteenth-century slave revolts and twentieth-century “urban unrest”), the socius provides no catalyst for White avowal. In short, thought—essential, are, among their “contemporaries,” and assume its ubiquity. Unlike the Negro, ontological thought—is all but impossible in White cultural and political theory—but it is not (as we will see in Monster’s Ball in part 4) impossible in This state of affairs, the unbearable hydraulics of Black disavowal and the sweetness and light of disavowal, is best encapsulated in the shorthand expression “social stability,” for it guarantees the civility of civil society. Put anecdotally, but nonetheless to the point, when pulled individually by the button, both the unconscious of the White film itself. White inmate and guard might be in favor of “criminal rehabilitation,” both might even believe that the warden is a “swell guy,” and in their enthusiasm they might even take for granted that by “criminal” they are speaking of the inmates and not the guards, or for that matter the warden. However, while the shared experiences in the political economy of the prison—a common policy agenda, that is, rehabilitation—or the shared identifications in the libidinal economy of the prison—the unconscious captation of both inmate and guard by the image of the warden—may certainly be important to any meditation on either prison economy, they are certainly not essential to such reflection. This means that they cannot break in on the mutually exclusive constituent elements that make the positions of inmate and guard irreconcilable, at least, not with such a force as to rupture the positional exclusivity and bring about an end to the (prison) world. This holds true regardless of the fact that the mobility of symbolic material, that is, the idea of “criminal rehabilitation” and the agreement on who constitutes a criminal, and the mobility of imaginary captation, that is, the image of the warden, are both The libidinal economy of modernity and its attendant cartography (the Western Hemisphere, the United States, or civil society as a construct) achieves its structure of unconscious exchange by way of a “thanatology” in which Blackness overdetermines the embodiment of impossibility, incoherence, and incapacity. Furthermore, political economy achieves its symbolic (political or economic) capacity and structure of preconscious exchange by way of a similar thanatology. Judy goes so far as to say that at the crux of modernity’s crisis is the dilemma “how to represent the Negro as being demonstrably human within the terms of the law .” Here, of course, he does without limit in their capacity for transgression. not mean “law” in a juridical sense but rather “law” as a portal of intelligibility through which one can be said to have the capacity to access “Reason” Through Judy’s analysis of the Negro (the slave) as modernity’s necessity (the Other that Humanity is not: “Simple enough one has only not to be a nigger”), that which kick-starts and sustains the production of the Western Hemisphere, we can begin to make the transition from the parasitic necessity of Whiteness in libidinal economy to its parasitic necessity in political economy. Whiteness is parasitic because it monumentalizes its subjective capacity, its lush cartography, in direct proportion to the wasteland of Black incapacity. By “capacity” I have meant something more comprehensive than “the event” and its causal elements and something more indeterminate than “agency”. We should think of it as a kind of facility or matrix through which possibility itself—whether tragic or triumphant—can be elaborated: the ebb and flow between, on the one hand, “empty speech,” racist actions, repressive laws, and and thus be recognized and incorporated as a bona fide subject. institutional coherence and on the other hand, “full speech,” armed insurrection, and the institutional ennui. This is what I mean by capacity. It is a far cry from Spillers’s state of “being for the captor” and Judy’s “muted African body,” a far cry from pure abject- or objectness: without thought, without agency, “with no capacity to move.” In short, White (Human) capacity, in advance of the event of discrimination or oppression, is parasitic on Black incapacity: Without the Negro, capacity itself is incoherent, uncertain at best. Legalism The Modern System of Anti-Blackness is Perfected through Legal Action—The Cycle of Domination is Completed When The Slaves Bows Down to the System Farley 5, Anthony. Prof. Farley specializes in Constitutional Law, Criminal Procedure and Legal Theory. Taught at Boston College Before Teaching at Albany “Perfecting Slavery” Page 221-222 Slavery is with us still. We are haunted by slavery. We are animated by slavery. White-over-black is slavery and segregation and neosegregation and every situation in which the distribution of material or spiritual goods follows the colorline. The movement from slavery to segregation to neosegregation to whatever form of white-over-black it is that may come with post-modernity or after is not toward freedom. The movement from slavery to segregation to neosegregation is the movement of slavery perfecting itself. White-over-black is neosegregation. White-over-black is segregation. White-over-black is slavery. All of it is white-over-black, only white-over-black, and that continually. The story of progress up from slavery is a lie, the longest lie. The story of progress up from slavery is told juridically in the form of the rule of law. Slavery is the rule of law. And slavery is death. The slave perfects itself as a slave when it bows down before its master of its own free will. That is the moment in which the slave accomplishes the impossible reconciliation of its freedom with its unfreedom by willing itself unfree. 3 When exactly does this perfection of slavery take place? The slave bows down before its master when it prays for legal relief, when it prays for equal rights, and while it cultivates the field of law hoping for an answer. The law contains the pleasure of whiteness, and through it we see ourselves as masters and slaves. Oppressors fall into the pattern of enjoying the white-overblack dynamic. We need to remember that it will be easy to fall back into the past. Farley 02, Prof @ Albany Law School, 2002 (Anthony P., 2002, “The Poetics of Colorlined Space,” p. 99) Race is a form of bodily pleasure, akin to sexuality. “Look, A Nigger!” is a sensation that both the tormentors and the tormented feel within their bodies. Frantz Fanon writes: “Look at the Nigger!” … My body was given back to me sprawled out, distorted, recolored, clad in mourning in that white winter day. The Negro is an animal, the Negro is bad, the Negro is mean, the Negro is ugly. The legal expressions of the colorline are, similarly, sensations that people have both in and about their bodies. The master and his slave may both come to see and feel themselves through the law that defines, commands, and is the expression of their situation. Jean-Paul Sartre wrote: Oppression based on slavery was not at first recognized by the law, but it soon becomes institutional. Thus a son of a slaveholder, born amidst a regime based on oppression, not only considers the fact of possessing slaves as natural but also as legitimate since this fact is one part of the institutions of his homeland. And the more he is raised to respect the authority of the State and recognize his duties toward it, the more the right of possessing slaves appears sacred to him and the more it will remain beyond discussion. There is an underlying tie between the way of accepting and assuming different legal prescriptions (matrimonial, civic, military duties, etc.) and the way of accepting the right to possess slaves. It is the ensemble that is respected and recognized. Whether race finds its expression as slavery, segregation, or neosegregation, the legal song remains the same. The pleasure of whiteness is spread throughout the entire ensemble. The law is an organ of perception—a great ephemeral skin—and through it we come to feel ourselves as masters and slaves, segregators and segregated, neo-segregators and neo-segregated, white and black, subject and object, and S/M. Language is a skin: I rub my language against the other. It is as if I had words instead of fingers, or fingers at the tip of my words. My language trembles with desire. The emotion derives from a double contact: on the one hand, a whole activity of discourse discreetly, indirectly focuses upon a single signified, which is “I desire you,” and releases, nourishes, ramifies it to the point of explosion (language experiences orgasm upon touching itself); on the other hand, I enwrap the other in my words, I caress, brush against, talk up this contact, I extend myself to make the commentary to which I submit the relation endure. The relationship of white-over-black endures because people have learned to take pleasure in it. We ignore the sensual aspects of colorlined space at our peril. We would do well to recall the warning and the prophecy of the Great American Novel: “So we beat on; boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.” Forgetting History The attempt to rid slavery from the past is impossible Sexton 10 (Jared, Assoc Prof. of African American @ UC Irvine, “People of Color Blindness; p. 48-49) This is why every attempt to defend the rights and liberties of the latest victims of state repression will fail to make substantial gains insofar as it forfeits or sidelines the fate of blacks, the prototypical targets of the panoply of police practices and the juridical infrastructure built up around them. Without blacks on board, the only viable political option and the only effective defense against the intensifying cross fire will involve greater alliance with an antiblack civil society and further capitulation to the magnification of state power. At the apex of the midcentury social movements, Kwame Ture and Charles Hamilton wrote in their 1968 classic, Black Power: The Politics of Liberation, that black freedom entails “the necessarily total revamping of the society.”77 For Hartman, thinking of the entanglements of the African diaspora in this context, the necessarily total Social Text 103 • Summer 2010 49 revamping of the society is more appropriately envisioned as the creation of an entirely new world: I knew that no matter how far from home I traveled, I would never be able to leave my past behind. I would never be able to imagine being the kind of person who had not been made and marked by slavery. I was black and a history of terror had produced that identity. Terror was “captivity without the possibility of flight,” inescapable violence, precarious life. There was no going back to a time or place before slavery, and going beyond it no doubt would entail nothing less momentous than yet another revolution.78 Multiculturalism The politics of multiracialism subverts discourse surrounding race studies and paints the Black Body as the dominant oppressor Sexton 8 [Jared, associate professor of African American studies and film and media studies, “Amalgamation Schemes: Antiblackness and the Critique of Multiracialism,” page 50-55] To that end, I am interested in “the field of representations, coextensive with politics ” (Burgin 1996, 22) within which multiracialism fashions its theoretical object—race mixture—after the post-Loving inauguration of decriminalized interracial sexuality and the dawn of an ostensible “biracial baby boom” (Root 1992a). We should understand this politics of “representation” in at least two ways: first, “representation as ‘speaking for,’ as in politics,” and second, “representation as ‘re-presentation,’ as in art or philosophy.” Gayatri Spivak (1988) has demonstrated that “ these two senses of representation—within state formation and the law, on the one hand, and in subjectpredication, on the other—are related but irreducibly discontinuous . . . [marking] differences between the ‘same’ words” (275). Within the ambit of multiracialism, this critical discontinuity is lost to conflation, covered over as the processes of representation are effaced in favor of a supposedly self-evident product. The multiracial movement (as a project of political representation) and the Weld of multiracial studies (as a project of scholarly and literary re-presentation) recapitulate similar procedures with respect to an anticipated multiracial populace—as, respectively, a subject of representation and an object of knowledge. That is to say, each instance organizes itself around the interpretation of the multiracial as a sign, or trace, of interracial sexuality insofar as the latter is thought to be a positive threat to the racial status quo. The liberal critique engendered by these twin phenomena aims at the amendment of individualized sexual morality and the reform of privatized racial etiquette. A dichotomous alignment is thus drawn: on the one hand, racism with antimiscegenation; on the other, antiracism with the affirmation of an unsullied interracial sexuality, epitomized by the romantic ideal of “love across the color line” (Peiss and Horowitz 1996). Cast in these terms, political struggle, including struggle about sexual politics, is personalized and reduced to opinion. Welcome as may be the attenuation of the legal regime of antimiscegenation in the United States, to assume that “global white supremacy” (Mills 1998) or what Gordon (1997) more fittingly calls “the antiblack world” is undermined by the proliferation of now permissible race mixture and the correlated growth in multiracial self-identification requires, at the very least, gross historical amnesia and acute political naivete. Radicalizing the politics of multiracialism, if it be possible, entails going beyond the celebration of multiracial people as “the best of both worlds . . . the solution to centuries of racial discord” (Spencer 2004, 106) or the living extension of a tedious antiessentialism (Dalmage 2004, 6). Even the latter point is too generous, since multiracialism, in point of fact, wards against antiessentialism and represents instead a reification of biological notions of race (Goldberg 1997). It is our task to demonstrate how this reification of race—insofar as the concept of mixture relies logically and rhetorically upon a purity concept—is linked as well to a naturalization of sexuality, including questions of interracial desire. But what most pointedly solicit the critique developed here are the specific consequences that multiracialism presents for the half-life of antiblack racism. If multiracialism reinforces the idea of biological race in general, it does so by negatively “purifying”— which is to say quarantining— racial blackness in particular as the centerpiece of a vaster re-racialization of U.S. society in the post-civil rights era (Martinot 2002). After resurrecting the tenets of a long-debunked scientific racism, multiracialism then renders black resistance to its dubious goals as an intransigent, unthinking force of political repression. The historic demand for an affirmative revaluation of blackness in the face of its manifest negation becomes, on this count, the paramount source of objectionable “un-American activities” like the policing of identity and the restriction of sexual freedom.10 Blacks are thus depicted in the multiracial imagination as a conglomerate anachronism, perpetuating disreputable traits of antebellum slave society and presenting a foremost obstacle to the progress of liberal society today: white supremacy in blackface, antiblackness turned upside down. The assertion of a pernicious black racism relies for its rhetorical purchase upon an impossible merging of racial blackness with the power of the racial state.11 All arguments about the supposedly overbearing presence and persuasion of blacks in the United States —from the popular culture industries to the mass media to the court of public opinion—hinge upon this social fantasy. In other words, it is not simply asserted in this milieu that blacks—much like their white or nonblack counterparts—can exhibit morally reprehensible attitudes or even discriminatory behavior in the private sphere toward those deemed racially other. It is also claimed that blacks have, as an outcome of the modern civil rights movement, commandeered the repressive and regulatory agencies of the federal government (hence the renewed hue and cry of “state’s rights!”) and, through such means, have transformed the whole of the economy and society to their collective advantage. That is to say, blacks have inverted racial hierarchy— or reversed racism, to cite the common phrase—to the categorical disadvantage of, primarily, whites, but also Asian Americans and Latinos. Multiracial people, so runs the story, are caught in the midst of this great transformation: Multiracial people experience a “squeeze” of oppression as people of color and by people of color. People of color who have internalized the vehicle of oppression in turn apply rigid rules of belonging or establishing “legitimate” membership. The internalization of either/or systems of thinking operates even between communities of color, such as Asian American and African American. (Root 1992 b, 5) Although it would seem from this passage that communities of color, much like the unnamed white community that is historically instantiated through “the vehicle of oppression,” are all equally culpable of oppressing multiracial people with “rigid rules of belonging or . . . ‘legitimate’ membership,” it is clearly black communities that present the gravest perceived danger on this score.12 In fact, the latter, darker term of this oppressive “squeeze” not only defines the multiracial experience as different from a “monoracial”13 black experience but also—in direct contrast to Root’s guiding metaphor— explains why multiracial people are, rather, located beneath “monoracial” blacks (not in “the land of ‘in between’” [Root 1992b, 7]) in “the hierarchical interpretation of differences,” the most oppressed, “the final ‘other’ in a complex of power moves” (Sandoval quoted in Root 1992b, 5). We might flesh out Root’s central claim in this way: “multiracial people experience a ‘squeeze’ of oppression as people of color [historically oppressed by white supremacy] and [as multiracial people, in particular, who are also oppressed] by [monoracial] people of color [which is to say, black people who have commandeered (internalized and applied) ‘the vehicle of oppression’].”14 Hence, the populating of this discursive landscape with worrying, hallucinatory images of black depravity: corrupt black public officials—hucksters, blowhards, imposters, liars, and petty lords; undeserving black beneficia-ries—affirmative action babies, coddled criminals, and This swarm of figures in black has as its upshot an imaginary world of black oppression, or what I would call “oppressive black power,” of global proportions—not the oppression of blacks by others (“primarily, whites, but also Asian Americans and Latinos”) but the oppression of others by blacks. If the range of this alleged epochal shift in the racial distribution of power remains hazy in the common sense, it finds consistency in dogmatic pronouncements about the dominance of a “black-white binary paradigm” over all discussions of race and racism, justice and equality, rights and privileges, politics and public policy in the United States. Whatever else may preoccupy partisans of multiracialism, all can agree, without benefit of even the most rudimentary definition, that the issue at hand “is not just about black and white.” This perfunctory popular appeal, despite its professed commitments to decenter whiteness and build progressive coalition with blacks, serves only to dislodge sustained discussions of the conditions of black existence and the political possibilities of radically transforming the structures of antiblackness. Again, not because black welfare queens; and, perhaps most paradoxically, vicious black police, a “racial border patrol” (Douglas 2003). politics has proven to be detrimental to any multiracial constituency whatsoever— recall that, when granted a coveted congressional audience, the multiracial movement refrained from substantive arguments regarding either a history of discrimination or a violation of the civil rights of multiracial people per se—but rather because it is simply asserted that black politics must be detrimental to any multiracial constituency whatsoever. The politics of multiracialism is, then, properly understood only as a purely formal negation of blackness. Substantive arguments grounded in structural analyses are jettisoned by reference to an archive of anecdotes in which fielding hostility—or even questions—from blacks is elevated to the status of political oppression, regardless of the actual relations of power involved.15 Contrary to the received wisdom of its liberal-progressive opponents, multiracialism is not founded by the desire to exacerbate divisions within black communities along lines of color and class. It is driven neither by attempts to introduce a wedge issue that might facilitate a statistical reduction of the national black population nor by attempts to interrupt civil rights compliance monitoring. These are likely byproducts of its political intervention, and they are often noted as objectives among the right wing of the multiracial movement, but I suggest that they do not represent the motive forces of the wider social phenomenon. Rather, multiracialism augments the neoconservative discourse of “reverse racism” that has taken root since the late 1960s by promoting , in novel ways, the image of blacks as an authoritarian political bloc that illegitimately determines the direction of federal policymaking and the substance of the national culture. Far from a strategic offensive deploying classic divide-and-conquer tactics, it is more appropriately understood as a rationalizing discourse for an ongoing “American Apartheid” (Massey and Denton 1998) or an inchoate preemptive strike for a nascent resegregation (Frankenberg and Lee 2002; Logan 2002),16 which is to say the continued and increasing isolation of blacks without state and civil society. Seen in this light, multiracialism arbitrates neoconservative race politics as an accompaniment to an advancing neoliberalism that is itself oscillating between official (liberal) multicultur- alism and the (conservative) posture of colorblindness, twin aspects of what David Theo Goldberg (2002) calls “the fagade of racial dispersal” (5). Racist states have undertaken to deflect resistance by indirection. Contemporary states have sought thus to dissipate the normative power of critique in two related ways. On one hand, they have rerouted rightful anger at the homogenizing exclusions of racist states into circuitous ambiguities and ambivalences of “mere” racially characterized, if not outrightly colorblind, conditions; and on the other hand, they have pursued superficial appropriation through uncritical celebration of the multicultural. (5-6; emphasis added) This explains, to some extent, why the political dissension, organizational weakness, and theoretical confusion of the multiracial movement or the dearth of intellectual rigor in multiracial studies do not in any way diminish the historical significance of multiracialism. Its appeal to the “circuitous ambiguities and ambivalences of ‘mere’ racially characterized . . . conditions” is predominantly affective, which is to say it is “prelogical” or “paralogical” (Fanon 1967, 154-59), and its official rhetoric does not so much articulate the interests or illuminate the position of any particular nonblack group (i.e., the New Immigrants, the white middle and working classes, or even multiracial people themselves) as much as it rehearses the phobic annulment of the “rightful anger” of blacks and the “normative power of [black] critique.” It is, in other words, a political theater for the acting out of a repetition compulsion, the staging of ritual loathing, an ardent refusal to be addressed by, and therefore implicated in, the historical force of black rage, the insatiable demand for black reparation, or the inconsolable melancholy of black suffering. As the color line of the twentieth century is swiftly transformed into “the new black/nonblack divide” (Yancey 2003) of the twenty-first, it is this collective antipathy toward the lived experience of the black that tenders the possibility of any nominally post-racial rapprochement. Whether characterized as an expanded and refashioned whiteness (Warren and Twine 1997) or a selective multiracialism (Lind 1998), this portentous shift, so vital to the “browning of America,” discloses the uneven and uneasy camaraderie obtaining in the culture of antiblackness. State The supposition of the state as ethical actor is foundational to blackness as slave – the 1ac renders civil society coherent Sexton 10 (Jared, Associate Professor at UC Irvine in African American Studies People of Color Blindness; published in 1998; p. 40-41) Agamben is incorrect to date the onset of this crisis and the advent of the paradigm of the camp with the “new laws on citizenship and on the denationalization of citizens” in Europe of the interwar years, that is, the rise of martial law in the first half of the twentieth century.48 The general failure of the inscription of nativity in the order of the nation-state and the state’s management of the biological life of the nation is predated and prepared by the strict prohibition of nativity under the regime of racial slavery and the state’s management of the biological life of the enslaved throughout the Atlantic world, most pointedly through the sexual regulation of race in the British North American colonies and the United States.49 And the racial circumscription of political life (bios) under slavery predates and prepares the rise of the modern democratic state, providing Social Text 103 • Summer 2010 41 the central counterpoint and condition of possibility for the symbolic and material articulation of its form and function.50 If in Agamben’s analysis the inscription of nativity in Euro-America is disquieted in the twentieth century by postcolonial immigration, the native-born black population in the United States — known in the historic instance as “the descendants of slaves” — suffers the status of being neither the native nor the foreigner, neither the colonizer nor the colonized.51 The nativity of the slave is not inscribed elsewhere in some other (even subordinated) jurisdiction, but rather nowhere at all. The nativity of the slave is foreclosed, undermining from within the potential for citizenship, but also opening the possibility of a truly nonoriginal origin, a political existence that signifies “the presence of an absence that discloses the absence inherent in all presence and every present.”52 Agamben overestimates the extent to which the question of nativity is displaced by the figure of the refugee. It is perhaps better to say that it is disturbed by the presence of strangers in a strange land. More simply, we might say to the refugee that you may lose your motherland, but you will not “lose your mother.”53 The latter condition, the “social death” in which one is denied kinship entirely by the force of law, is reserved for the “natal alienation” and “genealogical isolation” characterizing slavery. Here is Orlando Patterson, from his encyclopedic 1982 study: “I prefer the term “natal alienation” because it goes directly to the heart of what is critical in the slave’s forced alienation, the loss of ties of birth in both ascending and descending generations. It also has the important nuance of a loss of native status, of deracination. It was this alienation of the slave from all formal, legally enforceable ties of “blood,” and from any attachment to groups or localities other than those chosen for him by the master, that gave the relation of slavery its peculiar value to the master. The slave was the ultimate human tool, as imprintable and as disposable as the master wished. And this was true, at least in theory, of all slaves, no matter how elevated.54” True, even if one attains the income and educational levels of the mythic American middle class, the celebrity of a Hollywood icon, or the political position of the so-called leader of the free world. The alienation and isolation of the slave is not just vertical, canceling out ties to past and future generations (“the descendants of slaves” now understood as a strict oxymoron). It is also horizontal, canceling out ties to the slave’s contemporaries as well. The deracination of the slave, reduced to a tool, is total, more fundamental than the displacement of the refugee, whose status obtains in a network of persecuted human relations in exile rather than in a collection or dispersal of a class of things. Crucially, deracination is strictly correlative to the “absolute submission mandated by law” discussed by Hartman above, the most perfect example of the space of purely formal obedience defining the jurisdictional field of sovereignty. Because the forced submission of the slave is absolute, any signs whatsoever of “reasoning . . . intent and rationality” are recognized “solely in the context of criminal liability.” That is, “the slave’s will [is] acknowledged only as it [is] prohibited or punished.”55 A criminal will, a criminal reasoning, a criminal intent, a criminal rationality: with these erstwhile human capacities construed as indices of culpability before the law, even the potentiality of slave resistance is rendered illegitimate and illegible a priori. Again, this is true not only for the slave’s resistance to submission to this or that slaveholder but to the whole of the free population, what I called earlier the unequally arrayed category of nonblackness. The state fabricates the memory of slavery Hartman 02, , (Saidiya V., Columbia University African American literature and history professor Fall 2002, “The time of Slavery”, The South Atlantic Quarterly, Volume 101, Number 4, pp.757-777, CLF) By looking at a range of practices—the bartering of letters of welcome and return, the state’s role in the fabrication of a common memory of slavery, tourist performances and the peregrinations of middle-class African-American tourists—I set out to explore the time of slavery, that is, the relation between the past and the present, the horizon of loss, the extant legacy of slavery, the antinomies of redemption (a salvational principle that will help us overcome the injury of slavery and the long history of defeat) and irreparability. In considering the time of slavery, I intend to trouble the redemptive narratives crafted by the state in its orchestration of mourning, the promises of filiation proffered by petty traders, and the fantasies of origin enacted at these slave sites. As well, the ‘‘time of slavery’’ negates the common-sense intuition of time as continuity or progression, then and now coexist; we are coeval with the dead. Slavery’s enduring legacy has yet to be address by the state— Mourning and discussion of history in the context of slavery is key to bring light to the issue and solve Hartman 02, (Saidiya V., Columbia University African American literature and history professor, Fall 2002, “The time of Slavery”, The South Atlantic Quarterly, Volume 101, Number 4, pp.757777, CLF) Notwithstanding the limits of slave route tourism, at these sites the chronicle of dispossession and domination, which is often contained, localized, and dismissed in the United States by the rubric ‘‘black history,’’ receives official recognition, at least by UNESCO and the African states participating in the Slave Route Project, as one of ‘‘the greatest human tragedies.’’ The opportunities for witnessing and remembrance encouraged here center the marginalized presence of the transatlantic slave trade. At best, these sites of memory provide a public space to mourn, a space in which black grief isn’t made the stuff of national entertainment and prurient interest, it is important to consider the possibility of mourning as a counternarrative to the exclusions of U.S. national history and a personal seizure and appropriation of the narrative resources made available by tourism. Since neither the millions of lives lost in the transatlantic trade nor the enduring legacy of slavery have yet to be acknowledged in the U.S. national context, where the aggrieved voice is dismissed as so much ‘‘bitching and moaning.’’19 The dismissal or refutation of slavery’s enduring legacy, not surprisingly, employs the language of progress, and, by doing so, establishes the remoteness and irrelevance of the past. As a consequence of this posture, claims for redress based on this history and its enduring legacy are disqualified and belittled as ridiculous or unintelligible, with some conservative critics going so far as to denigrate these claims as racists acts themselves. Mourning, as a public expression of one’s grief, insists that the past is not yet over; this compulsion to grieve also indicates that liberal remedy has yet to be a solution to racist domination and inequality. The seizing hold of the past is a way of lamenting current circumstance and countering the regular disqualification of claims for redress as complaint, envy, and a barrier to social advancement, so giving voice to the grief of the diaspora is especially important in light of the ‘‘extreme discretion of the scholarly community’’ regarding the slave trade and the glib dismissal or condescending embrace that can only understand these lamentations, or any effort to reckon with the breach and rupture induced by the slave trade as yet another example of Negro mimicry or ‘‘the holocaust in blackface.’’20 In that it enables the aggrieved to recount the history that engendered the degradation of slavery and the injurious constitution of blackness, mourning can be considered a practice of countermemory that attends to that which has been negated and repressed. Yet, the work of mourning is not without its perils, chief among these are the slippage between responsibility and assimilation and witnessing and Incorporation. Can we mourn for those lost without assuming and usurping the place of the dead, and yet recognize that the injuries of racism tether us to this past? Does mourning necessarily entail the obliteration of the other through identification ? Can we mourn the dead without becoming them? The ceremonies of slave route tourism and the fantasy of return suggest the opposite—to remember the dead is to assume their place. Yet mourning need not entail stepping into the ancestors’ shoes or negating the difference between us and them with the bludgeon of identification. In other words, can we fashion an emancipatory vision not premised on recovery or disentangle mourning from overcoming the past? While the grief of the diaspora and the longings for return threaten to replace the experience of those captured and enslaved with our own simulated captivity, deny the finality of deportation with our belated presence, and obscure the difference between that event and its enduring legacy, nonetheless there is still a need to mourn, a need augmented by the ubiquity of racist assault, the disallowance of this space of mourning within the United States, and the unwillingness to declare slavery a crime against humanity. The state is the cause of the historicist cycles that subjugates civilizations under others – the impact is the perceived subjugation of black culture under European culture Snead 81 (James, James Arthur Snead was a professor, fiction writer, and film critic whose academic work analyzed literary modernism"On Repetition in Black Culture"; Black American Literature Forum, Vol. 15, No. 4; published in 1981; p. 148-149) The word state (Staat) is not to be defined as a strict political entity, but any coherent group whose culture progresses from the level of immediacy to self-awareness. How then do European culture and black culture differ in their treatment of the inevitability of repetition, either in annual cycles, or in artistic forms? The truly selfconscious culture resists all non-progressive views; it develops. Hegel admits the category of change, and even the fact of cyclical repetition in nature, but prefers not to look at it, or if at all, then not from a negative "oriental," but from a positive "occidental" standpoint. In such a view, Hegel states: "Whatever development [Bildung] takes place becomes material upon which the Spirit elevates itself to a new level of development, proclaiming its powers in all the directions 148 of its plenitude."'3 Hence emerges the yet prevailing "third option" mentioned above as a response to repetition: the notion of progress within cycle, "differentiation" within repetition. So the first category in which European culture separates itself from "Oriental" and "African" cultures is in its treatment of physical and natural cycles. This separation into "occidental" and "oriental" must seem amusing to anyone familiar with, among other Western texts, Book XV of Ovid's Metamorphoses, in which the "pessimistic" and 'oriental" viewpoint appears in the lips of an "occidental" predecessor of Hegel's, Pythagoras: Nothing is constant in the whole world. Everything is in a state of flux, and comes into being as a transient appearance.... don't you see the year passing through a succession of four seasons? ... In the same way our own bodies are always ceaselessly changing . . . . Time, the devourer, and the jealous years that pass, destroy all things, and, nibbling them away, consume them gradually in a lingering death.... Nor does anything retain its appearance permanently. Ever-inventive nature continually produces one shape from another. . . . Though this thing may pass into that, and that into this, yet the sum of things remains unchanged .. . . 14 The truth is that cyclical views of history are not "oriental," but were widespread in Europe well before the inception of historicism, which began not with Hegel, but long prior to the nineteenth century (and here one might mention as Hegel's percursors Bacon or Descartes in the Enlightenment, the progressive consummatio in the eschatology of Joachim of Floris, the Thomistic orientation towards teleology, or even go back to the "final" triumph of the Heavenly City of St. Augustine of Hippo). The debate in Western culture over the question of the shape of history, for most of its course, has been pretty evenly waged, with the advantage perhaps initially even somewhat on the side of the cyclical view. Only with the coming of scientific progressivism (as predicted and formulated by Bacon in The Advancement of Learning in 1605) was the linear model able to attain pre-eminence, and then not for some two hundred years. '5 The now suppressed (but still to be found) regarding of cycles in European culture has always resembled the beliefs that underlie the religious conceptions of black culture, observing periodic regeneration of biological and agricultural systems.'6 The government is trying to control blackness by appearing to ‘set it free’. Hartman, 3. (, professor at Columbia University specializing in African American literature and history, and Wilderson III, professor of African American Studies @ UC IrvineSaidiya and Frank B, published Spring/Summer 2003, The Position of the Unthought FW. - That structures institutions. And your work on empathy ¶ shows that; it helps us to understand how important blackness is to ¶ the libidinal economy of white institutionality. Now, I think I'm fair ¶ in generally characterizing the reparations debate and those ¶ who've renewed it - Randall Robinson and company ¶ that they got a tiger by the tail, and then didn't want the tiger to do ¶ its thing.29 The reparations people present the issue to blacks as ¶ though slavery is an essentially historical phenomenon that ended, ¶ but the effects of which put blacks at what they call, you know, "an ¶ unfair disadvantage" to those in other positions who are also chas ¶ ing the American dream. Through such a move the reparations folks ¶ literally waste a political weapon, they dull the knife, they keep the ¶ tiger in the cage, because here is a weapon which could spew forth ¶ in untold directions: I'm thinking here of Nat Turner's greatest¶ night. Instead, that weapon is a denuded or, maybe a policed¶ method of conveyance. They're trying to simultaneously mobilize ¶ and manage black rage. If reparations were thought of not as some ¶ - ¶ by saying ¶ thing to be achieved, but as a weapon that could precipitate a cri ¶ sis in American institutionality, then it could be worked out a lot ¶ differently from the way it's presented. One could present a repa ¶ rations agenda in the way in which you present your book, dealing ¶ with the despotism of black positionality as it moves from genera ¶ tion to generation, from historical moment to historical moment - ¶ with despotism beirig the almost ahistorical constant. Unleash the ¶ tiger and let it do its thing. ***Framework*** Framework Solvency Ev. Music as Method Music is a metaphor of the repetition of these cycles – rhythm is often sacrificed to avoid repetition of some fact, the same way some cultures may be considered an already-extinct stage in Hegel’s philosophy Snead 81 (James, James Arthur Snead was a professor, fiction writer, and film critic whose academic work analyzed literary modernism"On Repetition in Black Culture"; Black American Literature Forum, Vol. 15, No. 4; published in 1981; p. 152) In almost conscious opposition to Hegel's idea of "progressive" culture, European music and literature, perhaps realizing the limitations of innovation, have recently learned to "foreground" their already present repetitions, "cuts," and cyclical insights. As European music uses rhythm mainly as an aid in the construction of a sense of progression to a harmonic cadence, repetition has been suppressed in favor of the fulfillment of the goal of harmonic resolution.39 Despite the clear presence of consistent beat or rhythm in the common Classical forms of the ostinato or the figured bass or any other continuo instrument, rhythm was scarcely a goal in itself and repetition seldom pleasurable or beautiful by itself. Although the key role of "recapitulation" in the ABA or AABBAA sonata form (often within a movement itself, as in the so frequently ignored "second repeats" in Beethoven's major works) is undisputed in theory, in live performance, these repetitions often are left out to avoid the undesirability of having "to be told the same thing twice." Repeating the exposition, as important as it no doubt is for the "classical style," is subsumed within and fulfilled by the general category called "development." By the time the music does return to the home tonic, in the final recapitulation, the sense is clearly one of repetition with a difference. The momentum has elevated the initial material to a new level rather than merely re-presenting it unchanged.40 Even though the works of Wagner and his followers represent a break from this traditional formal model of development derived from the sonata form, the Wagnerian leitmotif, for instance, is anything but a celebration of repetition in music. In the Ring, Wagner's consummate vehicle for the leitmotivic style of composition, the recurrent musical phrases are in fact a Hegelian progression or extended accumulation and accretion to an ultimate goal or expression that begins somewhere during the early part of the Gotterdammerung, or even starting late in Siegfried; the leitmotifs are invested in installments throughout Das Rheingold and Die Walku/re and are then repaid with interest by the end of the Gatterdammerung. Remembrance Standing in the shoes of ancestors provides a vessel of remembrance—reminding those peoples of today’s oppressions—the broken promises of the civil rights movement, unrealized aspirations and devalued lives Hartman 02, Columbia University African American literature and history professor, (Saidiya V., Fall 2002, “The time of Slavery”, The South Atlantic Quarterly, Volume 101, Number 4, pp.757777, CLF) Clearly, the primal scene that explains the origin of the subject is the event of captivity and enslavement, thus the sites returned to are the dungeons, barracoons, and slave houses of the west coast of Africa. The journey through the dungeons is a kind of time travel that transports the tourist to the past. Not only do these fantasies have complicated and mixed origins, but their enactment is no less vexed; for the identification of origins, the drama of return and the staging of recovery are shot through with an awareness of both the impossibility and the necessity of redressing the irreparable. At the portal that symbolized the finality of departure and the impossibility of reversion, the tensions that reside in mourning the dead are most intensely experienced. Mourning is both an expression of loss that tethers us to the dead and severs that connection or overcomes loss by assuming the place of the dead. The excesses of empathy lead us to mistake our return with the captives’. To the degree that the bereaved attempt to understand this space of death by placing themselves in the position of the captive, loss is Attenuated rather than addressed, and the phantom presence of the departed and the dead eclipsed by our simulated captivity. ‘‘You are back!’’ We are encouraged to see ourselves as the vessels for the captive’s return; we stand in the ancestor’s shoes.We imaginatively witness the crimes of the past and cry for those victimized—the enslaved, the ravaged, and the slaughtered. And the obliterative assimilation of empathy enables us to cry for ourselves, too. As we remember those ancestors held in the dungeons, we can’t but think of our own dishonored and devalued lives and the unrealized aspirations and the broken promises of abolition, reconstruction, and the civil rights movement. The intransigence of our seemingly eternal second-class status propels us to make recourse to stories of origin, unshakable explanatory narratives, and sites of injury—the land where our blood has been spilt—as if some essential ingredient of ourselves can be recovered at the castles and forts that dot the western coast of Africa, as if the location of the wound was itself the cure, or as if the weight of dead generations could alone ensure our progress. Remembrance frames the crimes in such a way as to give a vantage point to contemporary progress, as limited as that is, and turns history into a museum. Hartman 02, Columbia University African American literature and history professor, 02 (Saidiya V., Fall 2002, “The time of Slavery”, The South Atlantic Quarterly, Volume 101, Number 4, pp.757-777, CLF) Given the irreparable nature of this event, which Jamaica Kincaid describes as a wrong that can be assuaged only by the impossible, that is, by undoing the past, is acting out the past the best approximation of working through available to us? By suffering the past are we better able to grasp hold of an elusive freedomand make it substantial? Is pain the guarantee of compensation? Beyond contemplating injury or apportioning blame, how can this encounter with the past fuel emancipatory efforts ? Is it enough that these acts of commemoration rescue the unnamed and unaccounted for from obscurity and oblivion, counter the disavowals constitutive of the U.S. national community, and unveil the complicitous discretion of the scholarship of the trade? Bluntly put, is there a necessary relation between remembrance and Redress? Can the creation of a collective memory of past crimes insure the end of injustice?22 Can monumentalizing the past suffice in preventing atrocity? Or does it only succeed in framing these crimes against humanity from the vantage point of contemporary progress and reason, turning history into one great museum in which we revel in antiquarian excess? Can we get the merest hint of ‘‘that event’’ by spending half an hour in the dungeons? I am not trying to make light of these engagements with the past, but only to shake our confidence in commemoration and the accompanying conceits about world peace and universal history entailed in the designation of thesemonuments asWorld Heritage sites and, as well, consider whether the imagined and simulated captivity doesn’t in fact operate to contrary purposes— if it doesn’tminimize the very terror it sets out to represent through these mundane reenactments. Remembrance grants us a backwards lenses—too see into the past to help us create new life and a new future Hartman 02, Columbia University African American literature and history professor, 02(Saidiya V., Fall 2002, “The time of Slavery”, The South Atlantic Quarterly, Volume 101, Number 4, pp.757-777, CLF) The point here is not to condemn tourism, but to rigorously examine the politics of memory and question whether ‘‘working through’’ is even an appropriate model for our relationship with history. In Representing the Holocaust, Dominick LaCapra opts for working through as kind of middle road between redemptive totalization and the impossibility of representation and suggests that a degree of recovery is possible in the context of a responsible working through of the past. He asserts that in coming to terms with trauma, there is the possibility of retrieving desirable aspects of the past that might be used in rebuilding a new life. 23 While LaCapra’s arguments are persuasive, I wonder to what degree the backward glance can provide us with the vision to build a new life? To what extent need we rely on the past in transforming the present or, as Marx warned, can we only draw our poetry from the future and not the past? 24 Here I am not advancing the impossibility of representation or declaring the end of history, but wondering aloud whether the image of enslaved ancestors can transform the present. I ask this question in order to discover again the political and ethical relevance of the past. If the goal is something more than assimilating the terror of the past into our storehouse of memory, the pressing question is,Why need we remember? Does the emphasis on remembering and working through the past expose our insatiable desires for curatives, healing, and anything else that proffers the restoration of some prelapsarian intactness? Or is recollection an avenue for undoing history? Can remembering potentially enable an escape from the regularity of terror and the routine of violence constitutive of black life in the United States? Or is it that remembering has become the only conceivable or viable form of political agency? Usually the injunction to remember insists that memory can prevent atrocity, redeem the dead, and cultivate an understanding of ourselves as both individuals and collective subjects. Yet, too often, the injunction to remember assumes the ease of grappling with terror, representing slavery’s crime, and ably standing in the other’s shoes . I am not proscribing representations of the Middle Passage, particularly since it is the absence of a public history of slavery rather than the saturation of representation that engenders these compulsive performances, but instead pointing to the danger of facile invocations of captivity, sound bites about themillions lost, and simulations of the past that substitute for critical engagement. These encounters with slavery are conditioned by the repression and erasure of the violent history of deportation and social death in the national imagination, and the plantation pastorals and epics of ethnicity that stand in their stead. In this respect, the journey back is as much motivated by the desire to return to the site of origin and the scene of the fall, as with the invisible landscape of slavery, the unmarked ports of entry in the United States, and the national imperative to forget slavery, render it as romance, or relegate it to some prehistory that has little to do with the present. The restored plantations of the South reek with the false grandeur of the good old days, and the cabins don’t appear horrible enough. Too easily, onemight conclude,Well, things weren’t all that bad. The starkness of the dungeons seems to permit a certain dignity; their cavernous emptiness resonates with the unspeakable. These blank spaces hint at the enormity of loss, the millions disappeared, and what Amiri Baraka describes as ‘‘the X-ed space, the empty space where we live, the space that is left of our history now a mystery.’’ Education Turn Education Lies at the Route of Liberation for Those Being Persecuted By the System—Only Through Knowledge of Injustice Can the Slave Other Throw the System Farley 5,[ Anthony. Prof. Farley specializes in Constitutional Law, Criminal Procedure and Legal Theory. Taught at Boston College Before Teaching at Albany “Perfecting Slavery” Page 248-249] We are called and our childhood begins. We begin as children. We begin to make choices and those choices are what we become. Our calling must be preceded by our education in that calling. We are educated or trained and that training regimen, our specific education, 103 may become our calling, depending upon what we choose to make of ourselves and our situations. Freedom, then, is the only calling. The slave has no choices. The will of the slave is not its own. The slave is owned and so cannot own its choices. The slave, being property, cannot own. Property cannot own property. We are called out of objecthood. Education is a calling into freedom, a calling out of objecthood. The slave is not called. The slave is not free. The slave is an object. The slave, however, may come to understand itself as an object and that makes it the most peculiar object in the world or out of it. The slave is the most peculiar object in that it senses its own abjection, it understands the abjection it senses as its own abjection, and, furthermore, it senses that abjection as the only thing that it may rightly be said to own. The slave owns only its abjection. Can freedom be made from such a call? Anything is possible. And abjection is a calling. Abjection calls the slave into objecthood. The slave perfects itself as a slave when it follows the call to objecthood. The call to objecthood, abjection, implies, for the cunning slave, another direction. 104 The slave has no maps for these other territories. Slavery is death. For the master, education in the slave is a horror. 105 For the master, the educated slave is uncanny. 106 Education brings the slave, who is death, back from death, back from the undiscovered country, back to life. This is uncanny for the master because the master has knowing non-knowledge that to return from death, the slave must end slavery. 107 The master experiences this knowing non-knowledge as uncanny. We fear death and the slave is the body of the death that we fear: The fear of the dead, who return to take away with them the living, has found an explanation from the point of view of individual and social psychology in the unconscious death wishes which the survivor harbored against the dead person while he lived, because of which he now fears that person’s vengeance. 108 The master should be afraid. The slaves that return from the undiscovered country do indeed plan to “take away with them the living” 109 and so the fear of death, and of the return of the dead, has a foundation. White-overblack—death—is the foundation. Education undermines the foundation of white-over-black and so education of the slave is the foundation of the fear of the dead. Education is the way that the slave begins its return from the undiscovered country. Revolution is the way that the returned slaves complete their return and, through that completion, manage to “take away with them the living.” 110 Impacts Foundation of all violence Objective anti-Black violence is the structural base for all conflicts Wilderson 11 (Frank, Associate Professor, African American Studies Dept., UC Irvine, “The Vengeance of Vertigo: Aphasia and Abjection in the Political Trials of Black Insurgents”, InTensions, Vol 5, http://www.yorku.ca/intent/issue5/articles/frankbwildersoniii.php#footxvii, )  With only small arms and crude explosives at their disposal, with little of nothing in the way of logistical support,iii with no liberated zone to claim or reclaim, and with no more than a vague knowledge that there were a few hundred other insurgents scattered throughout the U.S. operating in largely uncoordinated and decentralized units,iv the BLA launched 66 operationsv against the largest police state in the world. Vertigo must have seized them each time they clashed with agents of a nuclear-weapons regime with three million troops in uniform, a regime that could put 150,000 new police on the streets in any given year, and whose ordinary White citizens frequently deputize themselves in the name of law and order. Subjective vertigo, no doubt: a dizzying sense that one is moving or spinning in an otherwise stationary world, a vertigo brought on by a clash of grossly asymmetrical forces. There are suitable analogies, for this kind of vertigo must have also seized Native Americans who launched the AIM’s occupation of Wounded Knee, and FALN insurgents who battled the FBI.  Subjective vertigo is vertigo of the event. But the sensation that one is not simply spinning in an otherwise stable environment, that one’s environment is perpetually unhinged stems from a relationship to violence that cannot be analogized. This is called objective vertigo, a life constituted by disorientation rather than a life interrupted by disorientation. This is structural as opposed to performative violence. Black subjectivity is a crossroads where vertigoes meet, the intersection of performative and structural violence.  Elsewhere I have argued that the Black is a sentient being though not a Human being. The Black’s and the Human’s disparate relationship to violence is at the heart of this failure of incorporation and analogy. The Human suffers contingent violence, violence that kicks in when s/he resists (or is perceived to resist) the disciplinary discourse of capital and/or Oedipus. But Black peoples’ subsumption by violence is a paradigmatic necessity, not just a performative contingency. To be constituted by and disciplined by violence, to be gripped simultaneously by subjective and objective vertigo, is indicative of a political ontology which is radically different from the political ontology of a sentient being who is constituted by discourse and disciplined by violence when s/he breaks with the ruling discursive codes.vi When we begin to assess revolutionary armed struggle in this comparative context, we find that Human revolutionaries (workers, women, gays and lesbians, post-colonial subjects) suffer subjective vertigo when they meet the state’s disciplinary violence with the revolutionary violence of the subaltern; but they are spared objective vertigo. This is because the most disorienting aspects of their lives are induced by the struggles that arise from intra-Human conflicts over competing conceptual frameworks and disputed cognitive maps, such as the American Indian Movement’s demand for the return of Turtle Island vs. the U.S.’s desire to maintain territorial integrity, or the Fuerzas Armadas de Liberación Nacional’s (FALN) demand for Puerto Rican independence vs. the U.S.’s desire to maintain Puerto Rico as a territory. But for the Black, as for the slave, there are no cognitive maps, no conceptual frameworks of suffering and dispossession which are analogic with the myriad maps and frameworks which explain the dispossession of Human subalterns.  The structural, or paradigmatic, violence that subsumes Black insurgents’ cognitive maps and conceptual frameworks, subsumes my scholarly efforts as well. As a Black scholar, I am tasked with making sense of this violence without being overwhelmed and disoriented by it. In other words, the writing must somehow be indexical of that which exceeds narration, while being ever mindful of the incomprehension the writing would foster, the failure, that is, of interpretation were the indices to actually escape the narrative. The stakes of this dilemma are almost as high for the Black scholar facing his/her reader as they are for the Black insurgent facing the police and the courts. For the scholarly act of embracing members of the Black Liberation Army as beings worthy of empathic critique is terrifying. One’s writing proceeds with fits and starts which have little to do with the problems of building the thesis or finding the methodology to make the case. As I write, I am more aware of the rage and anger of my readerideal (an angry mob as readers) than I am of my own interventions and strategies for assembling my argument. Vertigo seizes me with a rash of condemnations that emanate from within me and swirl around me. I am speaking to me but not through me, yet there seems to be no other way to speak. I am speaking through the voice and gaze of a mob of, let’s just say it, White Americans; and my efforts to marshal a mob of Black people, to conjure the Black Liberation Army smack of compensatory gestures. It is not that the BLA doesn’t come to my aid, that they don’t push back, but neither I nor my insurgent allies can make the case that we are worthy of our suffering and justified in our actions and not terrorists and apologists for terror who should be locked away forever. How can we be worthy of our suffering without being worthy of ourselves? I press on, even though the vertigo that seizes me is so overwhelming that its precise nature—subjective, stemming from within me, or objective, catalyzed by my context, the raging throng—cannot be determined. I have no reference points apart from the mob that gives no quarter. If I write “freedom fighter,” from within my ear they scream “terrorist”! If I say “prisoner of war,” they chant “cop killer”! Their denunciations are sustained only by assertion, but they ring truer than my painstaking exegesis. No firewall protects me from them; no liberated psychic zone offers me sanctuary. I want to stop and turn myself in. Capitalist Exploitation Blackness is the Basis of Capital Wilderson, 03 (Frank, “Gramsci's Black Marx: Whither the Slave in Civil Society” an American writer, dramatist, filmmaker and critic. He is a full professor of Drama and African American studies at the University of California, Irvine. Pp. 6, AF) Capital was kick-started by the rape of the African continent. This phenomenon is central to neither Gramsci nor Marx. The theoretical importance of emphasizing this in the early 21st century is two-fold: First, “the socio-political order of the New World” (Spillers 1987: 67) was kick-started by approaching a particular body (a Black body) with direct relations of force, not by approaching a White body with variable capital. Thus, one could say that slavery—the “accumulation” of Black bodies regardless of their utility as laborers (Hartman; Johnson) through an idiom of despotic power (Patterson)—is closer to capital's primal desire than is waged oppression—the “exploitation” of unraced bodies (Marx, Lenin, Gramsci) that labor through an idiom of rational/symbolic (the wage) power: A relation of terror as opposed to a relation of hegemony. The use of cycles as a result of cultures leads to an economic collapse under the guise of capitalist growth Snead 81 (James, James Arthur Snead was a professor, fiction writer, and film critic whose academic work analyzed literary modernism "On Repetition in Black Culture"; Black American Literature Forum, Vol. 15, No. 4; published in 1981; p. 149) Black culture highlights the observance of such repetition, often in homage to an original generative instance or act. Cosmogony, the origins and stability of things, hence prevails because it recurs, not because the world continues to develop from the archetypal moment. Periodic ceremonies are ways that black culture comes to terms with its perception of repetition, precisely by highlighting that perception. Dance often accompanies those ritualistic occasions when a seasonal return is celebrated and the "rounds" of the dance (as of the "Ring Shout" or "Circle Dance") recapitulate the "roundings" of natural time: Christmas, New Year's, funerals, harvest-time.'7 Weddings especially are a re-enactment of the initial act of coupling that created mankind and are therefore particularly well-suited as recognitions of recurrence. Conscious cultural observance of natural repetition no longer characterizes European culture. The German wedding festival, for example, the Hochzeit, is today fully divested of its original ties to the repeating New Year's festival Hochgezit, and the sense of an individual marriage as a small-scale image of a larger renewal and repetition is now gone. 8 Outside of the seasonal markings of farmers' almanacs, the sort of precise celebration of time's passage and return that we see in Spenser's Shepheards Calender or in the cyclical mystery plays has been out of general favor in recent times (or simply consigned to the realm of the demonic as in the Mephistophelean "I've already buried heaps of them!/And aways new blood, fresh blood, circulates again/So it goes on . . ."19). Yet the year does still go around: How does European culture deal with perceived cycles? Recurrent national and sacred holidays are still marked, but with every sense of a progression having taken place between them. The "New Year's Resolution" and its frequent unfulfillment precisely recall the attempt and failure to impose a character of progression and improvement onto an often non-progressing temporal movement. Successive public Christmas celebrations and ornamental displays vie to show increase in size, splendor, or brightness from previous ones (although, significantly, the realm of sacred ritual, while immediately co-existing with the commercial culture, still works to bar any inexact repetition of religious liturgy, such as in the Nativity service). Other contemporary cycles, such as the four-year intervals of the Olympic Games and Presidential Elections, fervently need to justify their obvious recurrence by some standard of material improvement or progress: a new or larger Olympic site or new Olympic records, a new or better political party or personality. In European culture, financial and production cycles have largely supplanted the conscious sort of natural return in black culture. The financial year is the perfect example of this Hegelian subsumption of development within stasis. For repetition must be exact in all financial accounting, given that, globally, capital ultimately circulates within closed tautological systems (i.e., decrease in an asset is either an increase in another asset or a decrease in a liability, both within a corporate firm and in its relations with other firms). The "annual report" of a business concern, appearing cyclically in yearly or interim rhythm (always on the same "balance-sheet date"), contains ever the same kinds of symbols about the concern's health or decrepitude. It is only the properties of difference between year2 and yeari (as quantified by numerical changes in the symbols-say, in the cash flow matrix) which suggest the means by which the essentially exact repetitions are to be evaluated and translated into a vocabulary of growth and development. Capital, hence, will not only necessarily circulate but must consequently also accumulate or diminish, depending on the state of the firm. Economics and business, in their term "cyclicality," admit the existence and even the necessity of repetition of decline, but continually overlay this rupture in the illusion of continuous growth with a rhetoric of "incremental" or "staged" development, which asserts that the repetition of decline in a cycle may occur, but occurs only within an overall upward or spiral tendency.2 Capitalism causes slavery to transition into other forms of forced servitude – there is the societal belief that since the slaves were freed they are in debt to the government and should pay for their freedom by doing the same work and acting the same as they would if they were still slaves. Hartman, 3. (professor at Columbia University specializing in African American literature and history, and Wilderson III, professor of African American Studies @ UC Irvine, Saidiya and Frank B, published Spring/Summer 2003, The Position of the Unthought, pg 185-186) S.V.H. - ¶ Right. And this is where the larger narrative of capitalism comes into play. Because, basically, in most places in the world, ¶ you have a transition from slavery to other modes of involuntary ¶ servitude. In my work, I critique the received narrative about the ¶ transition from slavery to freedom in the American context, but we ¶ could also look at that same kind of transformation in relation to ¶ the antislavery rhetoric that comes to legitimize the colonial pro¶ ject in Africa. By the nineteenth century, slavery was the dominant ¶ mode of production in West Africa. Eventually, the European ¶ nations decided "This is an awful institution and we need to stop ¶ it," so we get King Leopold masking his atrocities in the Congo in ¶ the discourse of anti-slavery, or British colonial figures in Ghana ¶ effectively saying, "Well, we saved you from the slave raider so you ¶ should be grateful."19 In both cases, it's the same notion: "We've ¶ given you your freedom, so now you're in our debt ." ¶ F.W - And that brings us to Reconstruction in your book where ¶ you're talking about post-jubilee: ¶ The good conduct encouraged by such counsels eased ¶ the transition from slavery to freedom by imploring the ¶ freed to continue in old forms of subservience, which ¶ primarily entailed remaining on the plantation as faith ¶ ful, hardworking, and obedient laborers, but also ¶ included manners, styles of comportment in work rela ¶ tions, objects of consumption, leisure, and domestic ¶ relations. In their emphasis on proper conduct, these ¶ schoolbooks resuscitated the social roles of slavery, not ¶ unlike the regulation of behavior in labor contracts or¶ the criminalization of impudence in the Black Codes. ¶ The pedagogical injunctions to obedience and servility ¶ cast the freed in a world starkly similar to the one in ¶ which they had suffered under slavery. On the one ¶ hand, these texts heralded the natural rights of all men; ¶ and on the other, they advised blacks to refrain from ¶ enjoying this newly conferred equality. Despite procla ¶ mations about the whip's demise, emergent forms of ¶ involuntary servitude, the coercive control of black ¶ labor, the repressive instrumentality of the law, and the ¶ social intercourse of everyday life revealed the entan¶ glements of slavery and freedom. (S, 151) ¶ So. There's this whole army of white people - missionaries, educators, and the like - who go down South to help rehabilitate the ¶ Negro after slavery. And in reading that, a wave of cynicism swept ¶ over me, because all of a sudden I thought of Freedom Summer,¶ and the white students in SNCC, which is a blasphemous thought ¶ to have. ¶ S.V.H. - It's too immediate, but yes. I mean, it's incredible: these¶ people have been working ¶ suddenly there's this question of whether or not they can actually ¶ be productive. And here as everywhere else in the world, you need ¶ violence to make a working class. So what you see are the various ¶ means utilized to do that: forms of state violence, extra-state vio ¶ lence, and the values propagated by moralizing and religious dis ¶ courses. And what's interesting is that the black elites become the ¶ purveyors of those very values. Kevin Gaines has shown in Uplifting ¶ the Race how in many ways the agenda of the black elite is reac¶ tionary and they are, in effect, the handmaidens of the state. This position of ownership fosters an economy of control that ensures slavery and social ineptitude Farley 8(Anthony , Distinguished Professor of Jurisprudence, Paul Farley, B.A., University of Virginia, J.D., Harvard Law School, 2008, “The Colorline as Capitalist Accumulation”, p. 953963, Accessed: 7/5/14) //AMM An owner purchases fixed capital and variable capital and sets in motion the alchemy the result of which is the production of commodities. The owner, "the capitalist," is said to have "produced" these commodities. The owner has produced these commodities not for their use value but rather for their exchange value, a peculiar value that can be realized only if there is a market for their exchange or sale. If all goes as planned by the owner, then the required fixed and variable capital will be available on the market and the commodities produced will be sold on the market and the value received for the commodities produced will be in excess of the value expended in their production. Failure is possible for the individual capitalist because there are competitors in the market. Failure, repeated often enough, results in the precipitation of the failed, and therefore former, capitalist down to the black planet of the dispossessed. Individual capitalists fail and fall and then cease to be capitalists. Inaividual capitalist failures and successes are the expected result of market freedom and competition. The individual capitalist is merely an avatar of capitalism, not capitalism itself. Capitalism itself is kept aloft by the capitalists as a class, and not by any particular capitalist or set of capitalists. Only the failure of the owners as a class can bring about the classless society. Failure of the owners as a class would mean that the dispossession occasioned by the mark—the original accumulation—has been undone. Failure or success of the individual capitahst is the way that capital is said to move from less to more productive (of capital) enterprises. An invisible hand—Is it the hand of God?—is said to make certain that capital moves in ways that make the market the best of all possible worlds. The market must become the entire world or capitalism falls apart. If there is an escape from the market, that is to say, if there is a remainder of the commons, then those with only their skins to alienate will remove themselves from the market to the commons. If escape is possible, then the offer made by the capitalists to the dispossessed will be refused and the dispossession that is the soulless soul of the system of capital will be undone. The offer made by the capitalist is the offer of employment or death. The commons were divided into properties of the owners in the initial dispossession. The dispossessed own only the skins they are in and all else belongs to the inheritors of the initial dispossession. The owners make an offer, "Work for us." Or, rather, "Work for me." In "exchange" for a certain amount of labor in accordance with certain directions and at certain level of intensity and under certain conditions, the owner promises to give the laborer a certain sum of money. The sum given to the laborer must represent a value that is smaller than that realized by the owner as a result of the laborer's labor in order for the system of capital to work. Individual owners may fail, but capitalism remains unless the owners fail as a class. The owners, as a class, succeed so long as they collectively manage to obtain free labor (surplus value), and this they cannot obtain from free laborers. What is surplus value? Surplus value is the free work that the dispossessed perform for their masters. The dispossessed work for free because they are not free. The dispossessed are not free to do anything other than work for free or die. Slavery-or-death is not a choice, each is the other but the dispossessed repress that fact. In non- revolutionary situations, that is, in law-governed situations, this repression is such that the dispossessed experience their dispossession as freedom and their social death as life. In psychoanalytic terms, the dispossessed repress and then screen their repressed experience of dispossession with a feeling of freedom. The dispossessed experience themselves as free to choose to accept the offers of this-that-or-the-other representative of the owners of the means of production. They seem free to choose but they are not free to choose because they are not free to refuse. Capital's legion of representatives produce, by their numbers, an illusion of choice, and this illusory choice seems like freedom to those who know of nothing to which it might be compared. One seems free to work for owner-X or owner-Y or owner-Z. The contract between the owners and their slaves is always the same. The slaves must work for free for their masters. Wages, hours and conditions may vary between X or Y or Z but the fact of surplus value's extraction is not and cannot be forgotten by any individual capitalist who cares to remain a capitalist for long. The master's mastery is only the master's ability to dispossess his slaves of the hours and days of their lives. The slave works for the master and some part of the value of the slave's labor beyond that needed to pay for the materials of production and labor is retained by the master. Without that retention of surplus value, the master eventually falls out of the capitalist class. Without the extraction of unpaid labor, there are no owners. None of the dispossessed would agree to such an exchange without first believing escape to be impossible. Escape seems a physical impossibility if the market is the entire world. Escape seems a logical impossibility if there is no alternative. Escape seems unethical and antisocial if this is the best of all possible worlds. Thus, the entirely of the law and the prophets for the owners is reducible to one sentence; "Resistance is futile." Slaves educated by the masters* gospel look for happiness in slavery. Where there is oppression, there is resistance. The resistance of the slave is of the futile sort, as will be demonstrated. Blackness forces everything about that person – even their enjoyment – to belong to white people. Hartman 03. (Saidiya and Frank B, professor at Columbia University specializing in African American literature and history, and Wilderson III, professor of African American Studies @ UC Irvine published Spring/Summer 2003, The Position of the Unthought , pg 188) F.W. - And he's suggesting that what it means to be a slave is to¶ be subject to a kind of complete appropriation, what you call ¶ "property of enjoyment." Your book illustrates the "myriad and ¶ nefarious uses of slave property" and then demonstrates how "there ¶ was no relation to blackness outside the terms of this use of, entitlement to, and occupation of the captive body, for even the status ¶ of free blacks was shaped and compromised by the existence of ¶ slavery" (S, 24). So. Not only are formally enslaved blacks proper ¶ ty, but so are formally free blacks. One could say that the possibil ¶ ity of becoming property is one of the essential elements that draws ¶ the line between blackness and whiteness. But what's most intrigu ¶ ing about your argument is the way in which you demonstrate how ¶ not only is the slave's performance (dance, music, etc.) the proper ¶ ty of white enjoyment, but so is and this is really key - the¶ slave's own enjoyment of his/her performance: that too belongs to ¶ white people.13 Gratuitous violence The objectification of blackness means that we are ontologically murdered over and over again. Black flesh becomes the enslaved profit—the whites make us disposable and distanced from humanity. Spillers, 87 (Hortense, 1987,Professor at Vanderbilt University The John Hopkins University Press, “Mama's Baby, Papa's Maybe: An American Grammar Book”, http://web.calstatela.edu/faculty/jgarret/texts/spillers.pdf, 7/6/14, KM) Among the myriad uses to which the enslaved community was put, Goodell identifies its value for medical research: “Assortments of diseased, damaged, and disabled Negroes, deemed incurable and otherwise worthless are bought up, it seems … by medical institutions, to be experimented and operated upon, for purposes of ‘medical education’ and the interest of medical science” [86-87; Goodell’s emphasis ]. From the Charleston Mercury for October 12, 1838, Goodell notes this advertisement: ¶ ‘To planters and others. – Wanted, fifty Negroes, any person, having sick Negroes, considered incurable by their respective physicians, and wishing to dispose of them, Dr. S. will pay cash for Negroes affected with scrofula, or king’s evil, confirmed hypochrondriasm, apoplexy, diseases of the liver, kidneys, spleen, stomach and intestines, bladder and its appendages, diarrhea, dystentery, etc. The highest cash price will be paid, on application as above.’ At No. 110 Church Street, Charleston. [87; Goodell’s emphasis] ¶ This profitable “atomizing” of the captive body provides another angle on the divided flesh: we lose any hint or suggestion of a dimension of ethics, of relatedness between human personality and cultural institutions. To that extent, the procedures adopted for the captive flesh demarcate a total objectification, as the entire captive community becomes a living laboratory. ¶ The captive body, then, brings into focus a gathering of social realities as well as a metaphor for value so thoroughly interwoven in their literal and figurative emphases that distinctions between them are virtually useless. Even though the captive flesh/body has been “liberated,” and no one need pretend that even the quotation marks do not matter, dominant symbolic activity, the ruling episteme that releases the dynamics of naming and valuation remains grounded in the originating metaphors of captivity and mutilation so that it is as if neither time nor history, nor historiography and its topics, shows movement, as the human subject is “murdered” over and over again by the passions of a bloodless and anonymous archaism, showing itself in endless disguise. Faulkner’s young Chick Mallison in The Mansion calls “it” by other names – “the ancient subterrene atavistic fear…” . And I would call it the Great Long National Shame. But people do not talk like that anymore – it is “embarrassing,” just as the retrieval of mutilated female bodies will likely be “backward” for some people. Neither the shameface of the embarrassed, nor the not-looking-back of the self-assured is of much interest to us, and will not help at all if rigor is our dream. We might concede, at the very least, that sticks and bricks might break our bones, but words will most certainly kill us. The state of motherhood is reproduced through ideological and legal acts of naming that dehumanize black women and transform their bodies into flesh and offspring into slaves. Spillers, 87 (Hortense, 1987, Professor at Vanderbilt University The John Hopkins University Press, “Mama's Baby, Papa's Maybe: An American Grammar Book”, http://web.calstatela.edu/faculty/jgarret/texts/spillers.pdf, 7/6/14, KM) “Ethnicity” perceived as mythical time enables a writer to perform a variety of conceptual moves all at once. Under [ethnicity’s] its hegemony, the human body becomes a defenseless target for rape and veneration, and the body, in its material and abstract phase, a resource for metaphor. For example, Moynihan’s “tangle for pathology” provides the descriptive strategy for the work’s fourth chapter, which suggests that “underachievement” in black males of the lower classes is primarily the fault of black females, who achieve out of all proportion, both to their numbers in the community and to the paradigmatic example before the notion: “Ours is a society which presumes male leadership in private and public affairs…A sub-culture, such as that of the Negro American, in which this is not the pattern, is placed at a distinct disadvantage” . Between charts and diagrams, we are asked to consider the impact of qualitative measure on the black male’s performance on standardized examinations, pact of qualitative measure on the black male’s performance on standardized examinations, matriculation in schools of higher and professional training, etc. Even though Moynihan sounds a critique on his own argument here, he quickly withdraws from its possibilities, suggesting that black males should reign because that is the way the majority culture carries things out: “It is clearly a disadvantage for a minority group to be operating under one principle, while the great majority of the population…is operating on another” . Those persons living according to the perceived “matriarchal” pattern are, therefore, caught in a state of social “pathology.” ¶ Even though Daughters have their own agenda with reference to this order of Fathers (imagining for the moment that Moynihan’s fiction – and others like it – does not represent an adequate one and that there is, once we dis-cover him, a Father here), my contention that these social and cultural subjects make doubles, unstable in their respective identities, in effect transports us to a common historical ground, the socio-political order of the New World. That order, with its human sequence written in blood, represents for its African and indigenous peoples a scene of actual mutilation, dismemberment, and exile. First of all, their New-World, diasporic plight marked a theft of the body – a willful and violent (and unimaginable from this distance) severing of the captive body from its motive will, its active desire. Under these conditions, we lose at least gender difference in the outcome, and the female body and the male body become a territory of cultural and political maneuver, not at all gender-related, gender-specific. But this body, at least from the point of view of the captive community, focuses a private and particular space, at which point of convergence biological, sexual, social, cultural, linguistic, ritualistic, and psychological fortunes join. This profound intimacy of interlocking detail is disrupted, however, by externally imposed meanings and uses: 1) the captive body becomes the source of an irresistible, destructive sensuality; 2) at the same time – in stunning contradiction – the captive body reduces to a thing, becoming being for the captor; 3) in this absence from a subject position, the captured sexualities provide a physical and biological expression of “otherness”; 4) as a category of physical powerlessness that slides in to a more general “powerlessness,” resonating through various centers of human and social meaning. ¶ But I would make a distinction in this case between “body” and “flesh” and impose that distinction as the central one between captive and liberated subject-positions. In that sense, before the “body” there is the “flesh,” that zero degree of social conceptualization that does not escape concealment under the brush of discourse, or the reflexes of iconography. Even though the European hegemonies stole bodes – some of them female – out of West African communities in concert with the African “middleman,” we regard this human and social irreparability as high crimes against the flesh, as the person of African females and African males registered the wounding. If we think of the “flesh” as a primary narrative, then we mean its seared, divided, ripped-apartness, riveted to the ship’s hole, fallen, or “escaped” overboard. ¶ One of the most poignant aspects of William Goodell’s contemporaneous study of the North American slave codes gives precise expression to the tortures and instruments of captivity. Reporting an instance of Jonathan Edwards’s observations on the tortures of enslavement, Goodell narrates; “The smack of the whip is all day long in the ears of those who are on the plantation, or in the vicinity; and it is used with such dexterity and severity as not only to lacerate the skin, but to tear out small portions of the flesh at almost every stake” . The anatomical specifications of rupture, of altered human tissue, take on the objective description of laboratory prose – eyes beaten out, arms backs, skulls branded, a left jaw, a right ankle, punctured; teeth missing, as the calculated work of iron, whips, chains, knives, the canine patrol, the bullet. ¶ These undecipherable markings on the captive body render a kind of hieroglyphics of the flesh whose severe disjunctures come to be hidden to the cultural seeing by skin color. We might well ask if this phenomenon of marking and branding actually “transfers” from one generation to another , finding its various symbolic substitutions in an efficacy of meanings that repeat the initiating moments? As Elaine Scarry describes the mechanisms of torture [Scarry 27-59], these lacerations, woundings, fissures, tears, scars, openings, ruptures, lesions, rendings, punctures of the flesh create the distance between what I would designate a cultural vestibularity and the culture, whose state apparatus, including judges, attorneys, “owners,” “soul drivers,” “overseers,” and “men of God,” apparently colludes with a protocol of “search and destroy.” This body whose flesh carries the female and the male to the frontiers of survival bears in person the marks of a cultural text whose inside has been turned outside. ¶ The flesh is the concentration of “ethnicity” that contemporary critical discourses neither acknowledge nor discourse away. It is this “flesh and blood” entity, in the vestibule (or “pre-view”) of a colonized North America, that is essentially ejected from “The Female Body in Western Culture” [see Suleiman, ed.], but it makes good theory, or commemorative “herstory” to want to “forget,” or to have failed to realize, that the African female subject, under these historic conditions, is not only the target of rape – in one sense, an interiorized violation of body and mind – but also the topic of specifically externalized acts of torture and prostration that we imagine as the peculiar province of male brutality and torture inflicted by other males. A female body strung from a tree limb, or bleeding from the breast on any given day of field work because the “overseer,” standing the length of a whip, has popped her flesh open, adds a lexical and living dimension to the narratives of women in culture and society [Davis 9]. This materialized scene of unprotected female flesh – of female flesh “ungendered” – offers a praxis and a theory, a text for living and for dying, and a method for reading both through their diverse mediations. Since blacks are view as non-persons, it creates a view that any crime against a black person is allowed because they are seen as never having any opposition to the crimes committed against them. Hartman, 3. (professor at Columbia University specializing in African American literature and history, and Wilderson III, professor of African American Studies @ UC Irvine, Saidiya and Frank B, published Spring/Summer 2003, The Position of the Unthought, pg 185-186) FW. -And in those terms we might think about how Rodney King ¶ was accused of inviting his own beating; you know, he shook his ¶ ass in an aggressive manner at a white woman. So maybe you ¶ could sketch out the way in which the black woman functions sim ¶ ilarly in slavery, as somehow outside the statutory, or inside it: she ¶ cannot be raped because she's a non-person yet she is presumed to ¶ invite the rapist.¶ S. VH. - Yes. No crime can occur because the slave statutes rec ¶ ognize no such crime. Often when I'm looking through the crimi ¶ nal record of the nineteenth century, I'm seeing the text of black ¶ agency. The people who are resisting their masters and overseers ¶ appear in the records as they're prosecuted for their crime, creating ¶ this displacement of culpability that enables white innocence. In ¶ the case of State of Missouri v. Celia (1855), Celia is raped repeat ¶ edly by her owner from the moment she's purchased. She begs him ¶ to stop; he doesn't, so she kills him. Her crime is the crime on ¶ record: she is the culpable agent.18 So in this formulation of law ¶ and its punishment, blackness is on the side of culpability, which ¶ makes the crimes of property transparent and affirms the rights to ¶ property in captives. ¶ And you're right, that displacement functions more generally. ¶ Who is the responsible and culpable agent? For the most part, it's ¶ always the slave, the native, the black. Blackness constitutes an ontological marking that sets the basis for mastery and exploitation Farley, 8 (Anthony Distinguished Professor of Jurisprudence, Paul Farley, B.A., University of Virginia, J.D., Harvard Law School, 2008, “The Colorline as Capitalist Accumulation”, p. 953963, Accessed: 7/5/14) //AMM We are all flesh and all flesh is common until it is marked. The marking of flesh is accomplished by violence. Some are to have and others are to have not. Those who want to possess must mark the others for dispossession. The haves must come together as one, as Leviathan, because no one can rule another alone. The one must sleep sometime, and the sleep of the master is the emancipation of the slave. Leviathan, the state, with its many eyes and rules, murders sleep. Law begins as the masters come together as one, as Leviathan. The masters come together as one through the mark. Before the mark of dispossession, all we have is the skin that holds us. Before the mark, the skin we are in holds all of us in common and all is common. The mark must therefore be made or found ready-made on the skin. The mark, written or found already-written on the skin, separates those who are to have from those who are to have not. The mark splits the first commons. The first commons is the skin that we are all in. Before the mark, we are. After the mark, we are white-over-black. Ownership of things is first and last and always ownership of people. The would-be owners must mark those whom they would own for dispossession. The mark, white- over-black, is made on the flesh. The mark is made with violence. The mark is a fatal wound. White-over-black is slavery and slavery is death, death only, and that continually. The monopolization of things needed to live—fields, factories, forests and so on—is instituted by the violence of the mark. The mark shows who is to own and who is to be owned. The mark is the first and last and enduring moment in the history of ownership because ownership of things is first and last and always ownership of people. The flesh is marked and the would-be owners direct the violence of dispossession against those marked for violent dispossession (Middle Passage, Manifest Destiny, Infinite Justice and so on). What was common to all flesh—fields, factories, forests and so on—is violently enclosed within the horizon of the mark. The owner's ownership of a field or a factory or a forest is treated as a right over non-owners. Ownership means ownership by some and not by all. And ownership means that the entire world must come to be owned , otherwise there would an exodus of the dispossessed from the spaces of their dispossession. Those who own are owners. Those who do not own are themselves owned. The non-owners are owned, like things, by the owners. The owners' will governs the owner's objects—fields, factories, forests and so on—and the owned must surrender themselves to the class or collective will of the owners or die. This surrender or abdication of will is impossible for the living, for living is nothing other than the choices by presented with a choice that is not a life choice: Surrender to the will of the owner and die or surrender to the elements and die. The dispossessed, marked as not-owning the fields, factories, forests or any of the other things needed to keep the furies and fates, like hunger and exposure, at bay, are destroyed. The destruction, however, is not all at once, it is endless. And the endlessness of this destruction requires that they, the dispossessed, are first made mad. Libidinal economy Anti-Black terror sustains Human community and fragments the Black psyche – only the incomprehensible end of the world solves Wilderson 11 (Frank, PhD, Associate Professor, African American Studies Dept., UC Irvine, “The Vengeance of Vertigo: Aphasia and Abjection in the Political Trials of Black Insurgents”, InTensions, Vol 5, Acc: 02/03/12, ) Ritual murders which purge White aggressivity subtend Bukhari’s impeded mourning and my dissembling scholarship, despite the fact that the filial cleansing and affilial stability proffered by the Black imago’s intrusion as a phobic object does not cut both ways. The Black psyche emerges within a context of force, or structural violence, which is not analogous to the emergence of White or non-Black psyches. The upshot of this emergence is that the Black psyche is in a perpetual war with itself because it is usurped by a White gaze that hates the Black imago and wants to destroy it. The Black self is a divided self or, better, it is a juxtaposition of hatred projected toward a Black imago and love for a White ideal: hence the state of war (Marriott, “Fanon’s War”). This state of being at war forecloses upon the possession of elements constitutive of psychic integration: bearing witness (to suffering), atonement, naming and recognition, representation. As such, one cannot represent oneself, even to oneself as a bona fide political subject, as a subject of redress. Black political ontology is foreclosed in the unconscious just as it is foreclosed in the court. “[I]t may not be too fanciful to suggest,” Marriott writes, “that the black ego, far from being too immature or weak to integrate, is an absence haunted by its and others’ negativity. In this respect the memory of loss is its only possible communication” (425). It is important to note that loss is an effect of temporality; it implies a syntagmatic chain that absence cannot apprehend. Marriott’s psychoanalytic inquiries work through the word “loss” in order to demonstrate the paucity of its explanatory power. Again, loss indicates a prior plenitude, absence does not.  Marriott explains how we all work together, how we all bond over the Black imago as phobic object, that we might form a psychic community even though we cannot form political community. He does so by recalling that exemplary moment in Black Skin, White Masks, when Fanon sees himself through the eyes of a White boy who cries in terror, “Look a Negro!” Symbolically, Fanon knows that any black man could have triggered the child’s fantasy of being devoured that attaches itself to a fear of blackness, for this fear signifies the “racial epidermal schema” of Western culture—the unconscious fear of being literally consumed by the black other. Neither the boy nor Fanon seems able to avoid this schema, moreover, for culture determines and maintains the imago associated with blackness; cultural fantasy allows Fanon and the boy to form a bond through racial antagonism (“Bonding over Phobia” 420).  This phobia is comprised of affective responses, sensory reactions or presubjective constellations of intensities, as well as representational responses, such as the threatening imago of a fecal body which portends contamination. And this affective/representational performance is underwritten by paradigmatic violence; which is to say the fantasy secures what Marriott calls “its objective value” because it lives within violence too pervasive to describe.xvi “The picture of the black psyche that emerges from” this intrusion “is one that is always late, never on time, violently presented and fractured by these moments of specular intrusion” (“Bonding over Phobia” 420). The overwhelming psychic alienation that emerges from literal fear and trembling of the White boy when Fanon appears, accompanied by “the foul language that despoils…is traumatic for” the Black psyche. One comes to learn that when one appears, one brings with one the threat of cannibalism. “What a thing,” writes Fanon, “to have eaten one’s the father!” (Black Skin, White Masks)And the Black psyche retains the memory of that eternal White “fear of being eaten … [and] turned into shit by an organic communion with the black body … [This] is one of the most depressing and melancholic fantasies ensuing from the psychodynamics of intrusion” (“Bonding over Phobia” 421).  Again, though this is a bond between Blacks and Whites, it is produced by a violent intrusion that does not cut both ways. Whereas the phobic bond is an injunction against Black psychic integration and Black filial and affilial relations, it is the life blood of White psychic integration and filial (which is to say domestic) and affilial (or institutional) relations.  To add to this horror, when we scale up from the cartography of the mind to the terrain of armed struggle and the political trials, we may be faced with a situation in which the eradication of the generative mechanism of Black suffering is something that is not in anyone’s interest. Eradication of the generative mechanisms of Black suffering explored in this article, is not in the interest of the court, as Justice Taney demonstrates as his ruling mobilizes the fantasy of immigration to situate the Native American within political community and to insure the African’s standing as a genealogical isolate. Taney’s majority decision suggests that juridical and political standing, like subjectivity itself, are not constituted by positive attributes but by their capacity to sidestep niggerization. Nor is the eradication of the generative mechanisms of Black suffering in the interests of the White political prisoners such a David Gilbert and Judith Clark, Kuwasi Balagoon’s codefendants—their ideological opposition to the court, capitalism, and imperialism notwithstanding, because such ideological oppositions mark conflicts within the world rather than an antagonism to the world. Eradication of the generative mechanisms of Black suffering would mean the end of the world and they would find themselves peering into an abyss (or incomprehensible transition) between epistemes; between, that is, the body of ideas that determine that knowledge that is intellectually certain at any particular time. In other words, they would find themselves suspended between worlds. This trajectory is too iconoclastic for working class, postcolonial, and/or radical feminist conceptual frameworks. The Human need to be liberated in the world is not the same as the Black need to be liberated from the world; which is why even their most radical cognitive maps draw borders between the living and the dead. Finally, if we push Marriott’s findings to the wall, it becomes clear that eradication of the generative mechanisms of Black suffering is also not in the interests of Black revolutionaries. For how can we disimbricate Black juridical and political desire from the Black psyche’s desire to destroy the Black imago, a desire which constitutes the psyche? In short, bonding with Whites and non-Blacks over phobic reactions to the Black imago provides the Black psyche with the only semblance of psychic integration it is likely to have: the need to destroy a Black imago and love a White ideal. “In these circumstances, having a ‘white’ unconscious may be the only way to connect with—or even contain—the overwhelming and irreparable sense of loss. The intruding fantasy offers the medium to connect with the lost internal object, the ego, but there is also no ‘outside’ to this ‘real fantasy’ and the effects of intrusion are irreparable” (“Bonding over Phobia” 426). This raises the question, who is the speaking subject of Black insurgent testimony? Who bears witness when the Black insurgent takes the stand? Black political horizons are singularly constrained, because the process through which the Black unconscious emerges and through which Black people form psychic community with Humans is the very process which bars Black people from political community. Racism The history of blacks and whites are inherently intertwined. The Other and the Oppressor are equally intertwined, the link created by movements of the Other to be equal to the Oppressor. We need to look at the colorlined space in the sense of the body to find a way to break free. Farley 2002, Prof @ Albany Law School, (Anthony P., 2002, “The Poetics of Colorlined Space,” p.98) We have not Overcome. We have been Overcome. We have been Overcome by our own belief in the “green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter—tomorrow we will run faster.” Gatsby believed in the American Dream, “the orgastic future” represented by his belief. Gatsby had to be excluded for the green light to keep shining. The marchets believed in the orgastic future and the green light. The word “orgastic” captures perfectly the erotic tangle of dreams and desires that causes masters and their slaves, owning classes and their working classes, and whites and their blacks to cleave to one another. This union of oppressor and oppressed begets the non-revolutionary situation. Power is seductive. Put another way: Seduction is a strategy of power.The green light is a way of organizing, of understanding, the space between “East Egg” and “West Egg.” It is the space of longing and the space of refusal. It is the space that begets the elite and, necessarily, those Others whose exclusion renders elitism possible. It is a way of seducing us into the space of white-over-black. That space, the colorline, is a space of longing and refusal. In it the excluded long for inclusion, the included enjoy their exclusivity, and each party pretends that it does not find in the other the necessary condition of its own possibility. Put another way, each is the other’s bastard child. Domination and submission—each finds itself, its history and its genealogy, in the other. There are no whites without blacks, men without women, straights without lesbians and gays, rich without poor, or high caste without low. There is no hierarchy without pretense. We pretend that the space marked by the line is not filled with poetic significance. Strangely, even as we pretend, we become adept at navigating the emotional, the sensual, terrain of colorlined space. We become masters of submission— white and black. We pretend because it is easier to dream of the green light and the orgastic future than to face the cruel inevitability of the current situation. Again, Fitzgerald is instructive: “There are only the pursued, the pursuing, the busy and the tired.” The green light, the orgastic future, is the form of pleasure that links the pursued with their pursuers and the busy with the tired. Both parties to the pseudo-conflict are linked by an erotic of mastery and slavery. Race is a form of pleasure. For whites, it is a sadistic pleasure in decorating black bodies with disdain. For blacks—in today’s non-revolutionary situation—it has become a masochistic pleasure in being so decorated. Oppressors require an Other in order to imagine themselves as elite. The system acquires its stability from the desires it cultivates in its perpetually excluded Others. The green light over the bay, like the Civil Rights Movement longing for equal rights and inclusion (“diversity”) within this oppressive order of things, is a form of longing that links oppressed to oppressor at levels too deep for the mind to touch. This chapter is a postmodern reply to Critical Race Theory and critical legal studies. Both movements have traced, with breathtaking creativity, the myriad ways in which segregation has adapted itself to its post-civil-rights institutional environment. Both movements have relied on maps of the political economy of colorlined space to reach their powerful conclusions. I am following a new map, a map of the senses. The sensual contours of colorlined space must be heeded if we are to understand how the colorline operates and, more important, break free of its confines . CRT presents racism as permanent, but it does not explain why. CLS presents law as politics that finds itself expressed as law is inevitably the politics of the colorline. CRT and CLS have failed to map an important aspect of colorlined space because they have both privileged the mind over the body. This article may be used as a map of colorlined space from the perspective of the body. It is a map of colorlined space—the pleasurescape—that reveals the S/M nature of the current order of things. Slavery Slavery can never be forgiven—racial subjection, incarceration, impoverishment and second class citizen ship are all echoes of the legacy of slavery Hartman 02, Columbia University African American literature and history professor, (Saidiya V., Fall 2002, “The time of Slavery”, The South Atlantic Quarterly, Volume 101, Number 4, pp.757777, CLF) What becomes apparent, despite the proclaimed unanimity of the ancestors and their descendants in the commonplace pronouncement ‘‘You are back’’ is the ambivalence of the identification with Africa forged in these encounters. After all, the origin identified is the site of rupture and, ironically, the forts and castles built by Europeans come to approximate home. Loss predominates at this imagined site of origin, since the genesis of the diaspora is located in this commercial deportation. This unhomely home hints that this state of exile and estrangement might well be inescapable.14 Nor is an African identity easily reclaimed, since one is as likely to be called obroni, which means ‘‘foreigner’’ or ‘‘white,’’ as ‘‘sister’’ and these salutations actually achieve a strange equality as designations of exchange relations, markers of foreignness, and inducements to buy.While remembering the ‘‘anguish of the ancestors’’ is a central aspect of the pilgrimage to these monuments of the transatlantic trade, recursion is also informed by the imperatives and longings of the present.That is, dispossession is itself an inheritance that tethers us to ‘‘that event.’’ Racial subjection, incarceration, impoverishment and second-class citizenship: this is the legacy of slavery that still haunts us.15 The duration of injury and the seemingly intractable character of our defeat account for the living presence of slavery, and as well for the redress proffered by tourism. Black people are doing the work of society only to die – the state can do nothing to solve for these harms because racial inequality is continuous throughout the government and society as a whole. Hartman, 3. (Saidiya and Frank B, , professor at Columbia University specializing in African American literature and history, and Wilderson III, professor of African American Studies @ UC Irvine published Spring/Summer 2003, The Position of the Unthought pg 197-198) F.W - And living in this order, black people are still doing the ¶ work in those innocent scenes. They're doing the work of dying; ¶ black women are doing the work of recognizing white women in ¶ their quests as in Mildred Pierce;28 and black men are performing ¶ the work of recognizing the sexual virility of white men. That's real ¶ ly important work that we're called upon to do and still live under ¶ the specter of despotism. ¶ So maybe we're still - and this is very tragic ¶ B. Wells club was. We're trying to make ourselves over so that they ¶ don't kill us. ¶ S. VH. - And I think the underlying question is, "Where do we go ¶ from here?"¶ F. W - Is that leading us to reparations?¶ S.VH. - Yes. I've been thinking about the notion of focusing one's¶ appeal to the very state that has inflicted the injury. The reparations¶ movement puts itself in this contradictory or impossible position, ¶ because reparations are not going to solve the systemic ongoing ¶ production of racial inequality, in material or any other terms. And ¶ like inequality, racial domination and racial abjection are pro ¶ duced across generations. In that sense, reparations seem like a ¶ very limited reform: a liberal scheme based upon certain notions of ¶ commensurability that reinscribe the power of the law and of the¶ state to make right a certain situation, when, clearly, it cannot. ¶ I think too that such thinking reveals an idealist trap; it's as if ¶ once Americans know how the wealth of the country was ¶ acquired, they'll decide that black people are owed something. My ¶ God! Why would you assume that? Like housing segregation is an ¶ accident! I think that logic of "if they only knew otherwise" is ¶ about the disavowal of political will. Why is the welfare state dis ¶ mantled, even though it's actually going to affect more white ¶ women and children than black people? Because it has to do with¶ that political will and an antipathy to blackness that structures .. . State of Exception The state of exception is premised on blackness as object – this legitimizes colonialized violence that is in-seperable from the institutions founded on the juridical structure of slavery Sexton 10 (Jared, Director, African American Studies School of Humanities. Associate Professor, African American Studies School of Humanities People of Color Blindness; published in 1998; p. 32-33-BRW) In Means without End, the theoretical précis of his Homo Sacer tetralogy,1 Giorgio Agamben suggests that under present conditions “we will have to abandon decidedly, without reservation, the fundamental concepts through which we have so far represented the subjects of the political (Man, the Citizen and its rights, but also the sovereign people, the worker, and so forth) and build our political philosophy anew starting from the one and only figure of the refugee.”2 The proposal derives from a paramount concern to counteract the increasing institutionalization of the state of exception throughout the political-juridical order of the modern nation-states, and it is premised on an understanding of the refugee as a limit-concept, a figure that “at once brings a radical crisis to the principles of the nation-state and clears the way for a renewal of categories that can no longer be delayed.”3 This urgent renewal of categories is made possible by the conceptual crisis of the nation-state represented by the refugee insofar as she disarticulates “the trinity of state-nation-territory” and “the very principle of the inscription of nativity” upon which it is based.4 The refugee is the contemporary political subject par excellence because she exposes to view “the originary fiction of sovereignty” and thereby renders it available to thought.What is this fiction? It is not only the presumed identity between the human (zoe¯ ) and the citizen (bios) — the conceptual fissure that makes possible the modern production of bare life — and that between nativity and nationality — the conceptual distinction that makes possible the reciprocal naturalization of propagation and property in the name of race. It is also the conflation of the ruler (or ruling class) with sovereignty itself, the tautological claim that the law (logos) is ontologically prior to the establishment of its jurisdictional field, a space defined by relations of purely formal obedience. The state of exception would seem to betray the mystical foundation of authority because the sovereign power operates in suspension of positive law, enforcing the law paradoxically insofar as it is inapplicable at the time and place of its enforcement. However, the dynamic stability of that foundation — the space of obedience — is demonstrated by the terrible fact that the state of exception has been materialized repeatedly within a whole array of political formations across the preceding century and in the particular form of the camp. With the birth of the camp, the exception becomes the rule, consolidating a field of obedience in extremis — in place of rule by law, a paradigm of governance by the administration of the absence of order.5 However, if for Agamben the camp is “the new biopolitical nomos of the planet,” its novelty does not escape a certain conceptual belatedness with respect to those “repressed topographies of cruelty” that Achille Mbembe has identified in the formulation of “necropolitics.”6 On my reading, the formulation of necropolitics is enabled by attending to the political and economic conditions of the African diaspora in the historic instance — both acknowledging the form and function of racial slavery for “any historical account of the rise of modern terror” and addressing the ways that “the political economy of statehood [particularly in Africa] has dramatically changed over the last quarter of the twentieth century” in connection with “the wars of the globalization era.”7 Necropolitics is important for the historicist project of provincializing Agamben’s paradigmatic analysis, especially as it articulates the logic of race as something far more global than a conflict internal to Europe (or even Eurasia). Indeed, Mbembe initially describes racial slavery in the Atlantic world as “one of the first instances of biopolitical experimentation” and goes on to discuss it, following the work of Saidiya Hartman, as an exemplary manifestation of the state of exception in “the very structure of the plantation system and its aftermath.”8 Mbembe abandons too quickly this meditation on the peculiar institution in pursuit of the proper focus of his theoretical project: the formation of colonial sovereignty. In the process, he loses track of the fact, set forth in the opening pages of Hartman’s study, that the crucial aspects of “the peculiar terror formation” that Mbembe attributes to the emergence colonial rule are already institutionalized, perhaps more fundamentally, in and as the political-juridical structure of slavery.9 More specifically, it is the legal and political status of the captive female that is paradigmatic for the “(re)production of enslavement,” in which “the normativity of sexual violence [i.e., the virtual absence of prohibitions or limitations in the determination of socially tolerable and necessary violence] establishes an inextricable link between racial formation and sexual subjection.”10 This is why for Hartman resistance is figured through the black female’s sexual self-defense, as exemplified by the 1855 circuit court case State of Missouri v. Celia, a Slave, in which the defendant was sentenced to death by hanging on the charge of murder for responding with deadly force to the sexual assault and attempted rape by a white male slaveholder. Having engaged Hartman, Mbembe must write the following under the terms of a certain disavowal: “The most original feature of this terror formation [the colony] is its concatenation of biopower, the state of exception, and the state of siege. . . . the colony represents the site where sovereignty consists fundamentally in the exercise of power outside the law (ab legibus solutus) and where ‘peace’ is more likely to take on the face of a ‘war without end.’ ”11 In the earlier text, Hartman describes “the particular mechanisms of tyrannical power that converge on the black body,” highlighting both “the absoluteness of power” under slavery in general and the particular ways that its gendered dimensions reveal that generality at its extreme: In this instance, tyranny is not a rhetorical inflation, but a designation of the absoluteness of power. Gender, if at all appropriate in this scenario, must be understood as indissociable from violence, the vicious refiguration of rape as mutual and shared desire, the wanton exploitation of the captive body tacitly sanctioned as a legitimate use of property, the disavowal of injury, and the absolute possession of the body and its “issue.” In short, black and female difference is registered by virtue of the extremity of power operating on captive bodies and licensed within the scope of the humane and the tolerable.12 Mbembe’s formulation can suggest the originality of colonial sovereignty only insofar as it bypasses Hartman’s evidence and argument.13 In fact, it does so by artfully recuperating the very sources that Hartman brings in for critique. In note 30 of “Necropolitics,” Mbembe cites affirmatively Hartman’s Scenes of Subjection (alongside Manuel Moreno Fraginal’s 1964 Marxist history of Cuban slavery, The Sugar Mill, and Susan Buck-Morss’s 2000 Critical Inquiry article, “Hegel and Haiti”) in support of his claim that “the very structure of the plantation system and its aftermath manifests the emblematic and paradoxical figure of the state of exception.”14 In notes 34 and 36 of the same article, however, Mbembe cites affirmatively two sources in contradiction of Hartman’s position: the well-known passage from the 1845 Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, an American Slave in which the narrator describes the “terrible spectacle” of the torture of his Aunt Hester by the overseer, Mr. Plumber; and the work of folklorist Roger Abrahams on the form and function of “corn shucking” as slave performance in the antebellum United States. Society’s structure prevents whites from assisting blacks – the idea of giving up “white skin privilege” does not allow whites to become objects like blacks are when the relationship between the two races will always be one of domination and submission. Hartman 03. (Saidiya and Frank B, , professor at Columbia University specializing in African American literature and history, and Wilderson III, professor of African American Studies @ UC Irvine, published Spring/Summer 2003, The Position of the Unthought pg 189-190) F.W - You've just thrown something into crisis, which is very¶ much on the table today: the notion of allies. What you've said ¶ (and I'm so happy that someone has come along to say it!) is that¶ the ally is not a stable category. There's a structural prohibition ¶ (rather than merely a willful refusal) against whites being the allies of blacks, due to this - to borrow from Fanon's The Wretched of ¶ the Earth again - "species" division between what it means to be ¶ a subject and what it means to be an object: a structural antago ¶ nism. But everything in the academy on race works off of the ques ¶ tion, "How do we help white allies?" Black academics assume that ¶ there is enough of a structural commonality between the black and ¶ the white (working class) position - their mantra being: "We are ¶ regardless of its historical or geographic specificity.¶ both exploited subjects" - for one to embark upon a political ped ¶ agogy that will somehow help whites become aware of this "com ¶ monality." White writers posit the presence of something they call ¶ "white skin privilege," and the possibility of "giving that up," as ¶ their gesture of being in solidarity with blacks. But what both ges ¶ tures disavow is that subjects just can't make common cause with ¶ objects. They can only become objects, say in the case of John ¶ Brown or Marilyn Buck, or further instantiate their subjectivity ¶ through modalities of violence (lynching and the prison industrial ¶ complex), or through modalities of empathy. In other words, the ¶ essential essence of the white/black relation is that of the ¶ master/slave - ¶ And masters and slaves, even today, are never allies ***Alts*** Analysis of the Past An analysis of the past is a pre-requisite to creating the future – before we ask the question of what to do, we must realize what society did to bring itself to the question Hartman 02, Columbia University African American literature and history professor, 02(Saidiya V., Fall 2002, “The time of Slavery”, The South Atlantic Quarterly, Volume 101, Number 4, pp.757-777, CLF) What is at stake here ismore than exposing the artifice of historical barricades or the tenuousness of temporal markers like the past and the present. By seizing hold of the past, one illuminates the broken promises and violated contracts of the present. The disjuncture between what David Scott has described as ‘‘that event’’ and ‘‘this memory,’’ beyond comprising an essential dimension of belatedness, raises a host of questions about the use and relevance of the past, the political and ethical valence of collective memory, and the relation between historical responsibility and the contemporary crisis, whether understood in terms of amasochistic attachment to the past, the intransigence of racism, or the intractable and enduring legacy of slavery.8 In other words, Africa as an atavistic land as well as the character and consequences of an identification with Africa are mediated by way of the experience of enslavement, and perhaps, even more important, by way of a backward glance at U.S. history as well. That is, the identification with Africa is always already after the break. Added to this is the question of whether Africa serves merely as a mirror that refracts the image of the United States, thereby enabling the ‘‘returnee’’ to explore issues of home and identity with a measure of contemplative distance. Certainly, this is not surprising when we take into account the way I which slavery and Africa function as ‘‘the generative and constitutive points of reference’’ in continuist narratives of African-American history and cultural survival.9 For this reason, it is important to disaggregate Africa and slavery in order to apprehend the ways in which they come together. The journey to Elmina Castle, Ouidah, or Goree Island is first and foremost a way of commemorating slavery at its purported site of origin, although one could just as easily travel to Portugal or visit the Vatican. The paradox here is that the title to home and kin emerges only in the aftermath of the dislocation and death of the Middle Passage and the social death of enslavement; in short, it is a response to the breach of separation. Kinship is precious by virtue of its dissolution, and ‘‘wounded kinship’’ defines the diaspora.10 The pristine and idealized vision of home and kin is even more esteemed as a consequence of its defilement. It is, in this way, not unlike virginity, which Faulkner observed ‘‘must depend upon its loss, its absence to have existed at all.’’ The way we talk about and represent the past affects the way we perceive the present Hartman 02 Columbia University African American literature and history professor(Saidiya V., Fall 2002, “The time of Slavery”, The South Atlantic Quarterly, Volume 101, Number 4, pp.757777, CLF) The dissolution of the self or estrangement from ancestral land necessarily precedes ‘‘the achievement of a full, restored, and authentic identity’’ held out by return. That is, enslavement fundamentally mediates this diasporic identification with Africa and accentuates what Kobena Mercer has described as the essential constituent of diasporic identity—‘‘the rupture between me and my origins.’’ Yet if this rupture engenders diasporic identity, then the search for roots can only exacerbate one’s sense of being Estranged, intensify the exilic consciousness, and confirm the impossibility of reversion.11 The want of an authentic identity and long-awaited reunion with Africa exacerbates the crisis of homelessness. The complex and ambivalent forms of identification and disidentification with Africa and the United States facilitated in these excursions hint at an anxiety about home, that is, a fear that being a stranger in a strange land might be an inveterate condition on native soil and ancestral land. In the end, these peregrinations might be less about the search or reclamation of The Time of Slavery 765 home, than expressions of the contrarieties of home. Let me make clear that my intention here is not to reinscribe a racialist account of diaspora, position Africa as primordial land, suggest that diasporic identity is best explained along the singular axis of reclamation, or fall prey to what Gerald Early describes as the ‘‘confused wonder’’ of black Americans in the face of things African, but rather to interrogate the dominant framing of this encounter with the past and elucidate its vexed character.12 As David Scott suggests, the kinds of questions that need to be asked about the place of Africa in the cultural and political discourse of the diaspora need not make any claims regarding ‘‘the ultimate ontological status of Africa and slavery in the present of the cultures of the NewWorld.’’ Thus the important task here is not asserting the genuineness or falsity of these assertions, establishing the verifiable presence of Africa in the diaspora, or refuting this connection by insisting that no essential relation exists, either because Africa is an empty signifier or race is a spurious ground for identity. Instead Scott encourages us to consider ‘‘the ways in which Africa and slavery are employed . . . in the narrative construction of relations among pasts, presents, and futures [and] the rhetorical or ideological work that they are made to perform.’’ The bridge between Africa and the Americas is articulated negatively in terms of separation, the unremembered dead, and the second-class status of African Americans in the United States. Or, as Toni Morrison remarks, ‘‘it is bridged for us by our assuming responsibility for people no one ever assumed responsibility for.’’ The place Africa holds in the political and historical imagination is complicated since origin is figured as loss and the tale of one’s becoming is a death foretold.More important, fabulating narratives of continuity is entangled with a critique of the present, since these encounters reframe the history of the trade from the vantage point of the North American diaspora and critically reflect on the meaning of U.S. national identity. That is, the ideological construction of the past is guided by the current political interests of the diaspora; in fact, the unavoidable disfigurements of the present articulate the meaning of a diasporic and U.S. national identity. The past called Africa in these narratives is very much a history of the present. The past interrupts the present not by virtue of cultural affinity or the status of Africa as ‘‘authentic cultural origin of the diaspora’’ but because of the extant legacy of this captivity and displacement.13 Anti-State The alt is that we must tactically translate the anti-state sentiments of the black community and use them to reunite said community Sexton 10 (Jared, Associate professor at UC Irvine People of Color Blindness; published in 1998; p. 46-47) Though it is not difficult to itemize the atrocities Dorothy suffers, both directly and indirectly, and to theorize their relations and sources, I suggest that her position — and Luann’s as well — is not comprehensible by way of the analogical gestures of anticolonialism that animate the freedom dreams of the prison letters between Dorothy and her imprisoned lover, Ben (Ben Collins), that close the film. Reading from this angle (a reading that should not necessarily be avoided) may yield a compelling narrative of oppression, but what the film indexes, even when the diegesis cannot sustain it, is an ontological condition of gratuitous violence exterior to the interlarded rationales of the colonial enterprise (including its systems of patriarchy and class warfare). It is the exteriority of this violence subtending the various systems of oppression that signals the sine qua non of racial slavery. As such, the superimposed images of Dorothy, the titular “bush mama,” and that distant “bush mama” of the Movimento Popular de Libertacao de Angola (MPLA), whose prominently displayed agitprop portrait raises the specter of national liberation within the internal colonies of the United States, are held together by dint of an occlusion: “The vulnerability of the postcolonial is open, but not absolute [as is the slave’s]: materially speaking s/he carves out zones of respite by pushing the Settler, whether back to the European zone or into the sea. This also means that the postcolonial’s psychic vulnerability is not absolute — one can dream of land lost and land restored. In this respect, Haile Gerima’s Dorothy is not exactly the Bush Mama in the MPLA poster.”67 That is to say, what qualifies the condition of the slave is a suffering that not only wrecks the coordinates of any humanism but also, for the same reason, precludes the generation of a proper political demand directed at a definable object or Social Text 103 • Summer 2010 47 objective. What is produced instead is an abstract political insistence — a politics of the (death) drive.68 One can perhaps forgive Gerima for not enlarging upon this complication while subscribing to more likely frames of political intelligibility. Indeed, this gesture of strained political identification replicates the conceptual trouble endemic to his contemporaries in their formulation of Black Power and eventually Black Liberation, insofar as they were envisioned and articulated as a politics of third-world solidarity.69 As Wilderson persuasively claims, as an instance of the “shift in the politics of cinematic thought and the cinematic unrest which it catalyzed,” Bush Mama is made possible not so much by the good judgment and artistic genius of Gerima and his counterparts in the movement of black independent filmmakers (though these are undeniable factors) as by the activity of radical black political formations and the urban rebellion of significant segments of black communities across the country: “Black folks on the move.”70 The problem is not so much the principled or strategic interest in a global solidarity but rather the tactical translation of such sentiments into arrangements of alliance and the guiding assumptions on which the alliance is based. Wacquant would call this solidarity in “the form of an emotive amalgamation rather than of a reasoned comparison.”71 How, then, to think about “the position of the unthought” in a world for which (the afterlife of) slavery continues to provide the grounding metaphor of social misery? Burn it Down The alternative is to revolt against the whites—only revolution can destroy the spectacle. Farley, 99 (Anthony Paul, Boston College Law School professor, 7/1/99, “Black Men on Race, Gender, and Sexuality”, New York University Press, 7/6/14, AX) Resistance is futile. It is futile so long as it takes place in a context that renders it intelligible to the system. That which makes sense, that which is not a Zen slap in the face, is already defeated by the terrible anticipatory logic of hierarchy. Hierarchy begets the very struggles that are raised up against it. Are you oppressed because you are low caste? Gather together your brethren in caste and demand caste rights. Demand equal rights. Negotiate for a new era of understanding. Fine, and when you have changed the hearts and minds of your masters, look up at the banner of caste under which you have fought. Are you still a creature of caste? Frankenstein’s monster, enslaved to the apostrophe long after the death of the physician who stitched him together. Who made you this creature of caste? The system against which one fights is within and without. Revolution must involve a destruction of one’s self and one’s context. Revolution is total. Revolution is a break with reality: ¶ When you started in January, did you ever think this movement would become so great and would capture all of Mexico? ¶ What would you have thought if I had said to you on December 31, “Tomorrow morning we’re going to launch an attack on eight municipalities. We’re going to start a war with the objective of overthrowing the Mexican government and installing a transition government that ___. ¶ The outcome of a revolution cannot be predicted or charted because revolution requires the destruction of the very basis of predictions and charts: revolution requires the destruction of the very basis of predictions and charts: revolution requires the destruction of the spectacle. And it is only within the spectacle that the weary drama of the status quo becomes real. Any strike against a spectacle, armed or otherwise, is a strike against reality as it is experienced by our masters. We cannot work within the confines of civil society – this binary is too engrained, only an escape can give us any hope Farley, 8(Anthony Distinguished Professor of Jurisprudence, Paul Farley, B.A., University of Virginia, J.D., Harvard Law School, 2008, “The Colorline as Capitalist Accumulation”, p. 953963, Accessed: 7/5/14) //AMM The colorline marks the space of white-over-black. It has seemed to us that there is no physical escape, no land of Canaan, because the colorline belts the world and because the market has become the world and because the market is always and only a slave market and because that means that this entire flat earth is an auction block. Indeed, in the case of white-over-black, the map has indeed become the territory. But the map is wrinkled in time, and that is what we have failed to understand. In fact, the map is endlessly wrinkled in time. The map is a portrait of the original accumulation. Every movement across its territories is a movement toward the original accumulation. The original accumulation is the primal scene of white-over-black. There is no time outside of the original accumulation. We live within the horizon of the original accumulation and that is why our time is always already their time. When the slave prays for legal relief, it authorizes its master to rule over its future. The slave gives the portrait it has painted of tomorrow's equality to its master today. The slave is consciously aware of its desire for equality as it paints. The future appears to us, if it appears at all, as through a glass, darkly. What the slave has painted is the past, the past into which it flees, the past that contains slavery, slavery only, and that continually. The slave gives the portrait to its master. The master is colorblind and sees in the slave's artistic production white-over-black, white- over-black only, and that continually. That is why the master's interpretation of the rule for equality is white- over-black, white-over-black only, and that continually. The slave paints with knowing non-knowledge of what it is doing and every ruling, every legislative, administrative, judicial victory brings the slave back to the past that it has in fact painted all the while dreaming that it was in fact painting the future. The gift is accepted only during moments of crisis. There are many crises. The owners, desperate in their need for surplus value, capture and consume the entirety of space. The owners include each other in their accumulations. Groups of owners, groups of groups, combine and throw the dispossessed at each other as they wage their endless wars of accumulation. The dispossessed have no country, but they are trained to feel as if they do and thus trained they often willingly go to fight each other in order to increase their master's mastery. Few recall the Wobblies' peace plan. Our bullets are reserved for our own generals, and so there are always wars and rumors of war. Owners must accumulate surplus value or they perish as owners. The owners, then, are always desperate and happy to leave the human condition behind in their quest for die eternity of capitalist accumulation. Crises are the fruit of this desperate push beyond the limits of reproduction. Beyond the limit, things fall apart. Limits can be exceeded in many ways and the desperate owners always find new ways of breaking their own system. One type of crisis occurs when the owners go beyond that which they have trained their slaves to think of as 'fair' in terms of wages, hours and conditions. Another type occurs when the owners go beyond that which they have trained their slaves to think of as 'fair' in terms of housing, education and welfare. Sometimes, as with the flooding of New Orleans, the totality of oppression is unveiled. Masters, having successfully confined their slaves' ambition for bread and roses within the horizon of the juridical sometimes, in capitalist desperation, get out ahead of their slaves. In such moments the system of white-over-black experiences a crisis because the slaves see the owners for what the owners are and they also see themselves and what it is they have been doing to themselves. The slave is then welcomed into the master's house for negotiations. Negotiation requires the slave to pretend that it has something in common with its master. Slaves and masters have nothing in common and there is therefore nothing to negotiate. Negotiation is always already at its beginning the almost-escaped slave's surrender to its almost-former master. There are many mansions in the master's house, each filled with the beauty of yesteryear's dreams of legal emancipation. These legal dreams of equality are the endless prayers offered up by the slaves during the endless crises of capital. These surrenders are the secret of capital time. The slaves have knowing non-knowledge of their own breaking point, the point at which their refusal becomes a Great Refusal and their strike becomes a General Strike and the time becomes a new time, their time, our time, the Commune. The slave knows what will keep it unconscious of its situation and its inalienable freedom. The slave knows and yet does not know. Law is its way of not knowing. The Commune is goodbye to all that. We live inside the accumulations. We are lived by the accumulations. We are lived by the accumulations until and unless we seize the time. The General Strike of the slave power defeated the Union and the Confederacy. The slaves streamed away from their plantations and seized the time. Time and tide wait for no one. The stream became a flood and the entire Confederacy might have drowned but for the capture of all that wide water within the Thirteenth and Fourteenth and Fifteenth Amendments to the Constitution of the United States. Reconstruction swiftly became Redemption, the Confederacy joined the Union, and the self-emancipated proletariat became, once again, slaves, this time for wages, to the whites. Mourning Mourning reveals that the memory of slavery persists and makes the lost objects of African culture to light Hartman 02, Columbia University African American literature and history professor, 02(Saidiya V., Fall 2002, “The time of Slavery”, The South Atlantic Quarterly, Volume 101, Number 4, pp.757-777, CLF) Tears reveal that the time of slavery persists in this interminable awaiting— that is, awaiting freedom and longing for a way of undoing the past. The abrasive and incommensurate temporalities of the ‘‘no longer’’ and the ‘‘not yet’’ can be glimpsed in these tears. Mourning makes visible the lost object, variously defined as the homeland, authentic identity, and/or the possibility of belonging. It also addresses itself to the dismissal of grief as whining and the repression of slavery from nationalmemory. Certainly, the use of the word loss strains at the complexity of the event and its aftermath and risks imposing a too-neat narrative of continuity between that event and this condition. Yet the work of mourning, if it is not dedicated to establishing such connections, at the very least, succeeds in making them. At theDoor of No Return, the litany of captives taken to the United States, Haiti, Brazil, Surinam, Jamaica, and so forth, maps the lines of affiliation between various parts of the Americas. In recounting the saga of captivity and enslavement a particular axis of identification emerges—the chronicle of slavery yields to the everyday terror of racism, the civil rights movements, and praises issue forth to a pantheon of African Americans including W. E. B. Du Bois, the Nicholas Brothers, Martin Luther King, Muhammad Ali, and Angela Davis. In this regard, the history of the slave trade and the narrative of the diaspora recounted at these sites privilege the social location and historical experience of blacks in the United States. Captivity, deportment, slavery, Jim Crow, and a long-awaited integration and equality—this narrative is reinforced by the development strategies of African states, the incentives of the Ministry of Tourism, the directives of USAID, and the acuity of petty traders. Ironically, as a result of these combined efforts, slavery once again becomes a distinctly American story, with brief mention of African ‘‘traitors,’’ butwith little reference to the impact of slavery onAfrica or the regions now known as Ghana and Senegal. Self Destruction The suicide bomber is a metaphor for the slave, whose body is made into a weapon by two irreconcilable logics of survival and of martyrdom Sexton 10 (Jared, Associate professor at UC Irvine People of Color Blindness; published in 1998; p. 38-39) The final object of contemplation in Mbembe’s rewriting of Agamben’s rewriting of Foucault’s biopolitics is the fin de siècle figure of resistance to the colonial occupation of Palestine: the (presumptively male) suicide bomber. The slave, “able to demonstrate the protean capabilities of the human bond through music and the very body that was supposedly possessed by another,” is thus contrasted subtly with the colonized native, whose “body is transformed into a weapon, not in a metaphorical sense but in a truly ballistic sense” — a cultural politics in lieu of an armed struggle in which “to large extent, resistance and self-destruction are synonymous.”35 Resistance to slavery in this account is self-preservative and forged by way of a demonstration of the capabilities of the human bond, whereas resistance to colonial occupation is self-destructive and consists in a demonstration of the failure of the human bond, the limits of its protean capabilities. One could object, in an empiricist vein, that the slave too resists in ways that are quite nearly as self-destructive as an improvised explosive device and that the colonial subject too resists through the creation and performance of music and the stylization of the body, but that would be to miss the symptomatic value of Mbembe’s theorization. Mbembe describes suicide bombing as being organized by “two apparently irreconcilable logics,” “the logic of martyrdom and the logic of* survival,” and it is the express purpose of the rubric of necropolitics to meditate upon this unlikely logical convergence.36 However, there is a discrepancy at the heart of the enterprise. Rightly so, the theorization of necropolitics as a friendly critique of Agamben’s notion of bare life involves an excursus on certain “repressed topographies of cruelty,” including, first of all, slavery, in which “the lines between resistance and suicide, sacrifice and redemption, martyrdom and freedom become blurred.”37 Yet, as noted, the logic of resistance-as-suicide-as-sacrifice-as-martyrdom is for Mbembe epitomized by the presumptively male suicide bomber at war with colonial occupation, “the most accomplished form of necropower” in the contemporary world, rather than Hartman’s resistant female slave, Celia, engaged in closequarters combat with the sexual economy of slave society, Social Text 103 • Summer 2010 3 9 “the emblematic and paradoxical figure of the state of exception.”38 Why the unannounced transposition? Because the restricted notion of homo sacer — alongside the related notions of bare life and the state of exception— is being used in confusion to account for the effects of the biopolitics of race too generally. The homo sacer, “divested of political status and reduced to bare life,” is distinguished not by her vulnerability to a specific form or degree of state-sanctioned violence but by her social proscription from the honor of sacrifice.39 The homo sacer is banned from the witness-bearing function of martyrdom (from the ancient Greek martys, “witness”). Her suffering is therefore imperceptible or illegible as a rule. It is against the law to recognize her sovereignty or self-possession. This sort of conceptual conflation is pronounced in recent discussions of racial inequality within the United States as well, where postcolonial immigration has become the political watchword. Two figures are held up as exemplary: the immigrant worker from Mexico or Central America profiled and harassed by the Bureau of Immigration and Customs Enforcement and terrorized by a militarized U.S. Border Patrol (and various vigilante efforts) as her unskilled and semiskilled labor is exploited for the productive and service sectors of the national economy; and the immigrant worker from the Middle East or South Asia profiled and harassed by the Special Registration Program of the National Security Entry-Exit Registry System (now US-VISIT) and terrorized by a militarized Transportation Security Administration (and various vigilante efforts) as her unskilled and semiskilled labor is exploited for the productive and service sectors of the national economy. The various state agencies of this systematic discrimination are consolidated within the Department of Homeland Security, and that institution serves as the grand target of much immigrant rights activism.40 Indeed, Agamben himself is not far from this position, given that the ethical elevation of the figure of the refugee is motivated by his analysis of the dynamics of xenophobia in contemporary Europe (given too that the Eurocentric political exile of the refugee remains a species of immigration that “persists in the hope of justice under capitalism”).41 ***Neg Answers*** AT: Perm do both Perm answers Any political strategy that does not center blackness is doomed to increase the alliance with an antiblack civil society and increasing state power. Sexton 2010 [Jared, Associate Professor of African American Studies and Associate Professor of Film and Media Studies and one third of The Trifecta of Tough, “People-of-Color-Blindness: Notes on the Afterlife of Slavery,” Social Text, Vol. 28, No. 2] The upshot of this predicament is that obscuring the structural position of the category of blackness will inevitably undermine multiracial coalition building as a politics of radical opposition and, to that extent, force the question of black liberation back to the center of discussion. Every analysis that attempts to understand the complexities of racial rule and the machinations of the racial state without accounting for black existence within its framework — which does not mean simply listing it among a chain of equivalents or returning to it as an afterthought — is doomed to miss what is essential about the situation. Black existence does not represent the total reality of the racial formation — it is not the beginning and the end of the story — but it does relate to the totality; it indicates the (repressed) truth of the political and economic system . That is to say, the whole range of positions within the racial formation is most fully understood from this vantage point, not unlike the way in which the range of gender and sexual variance under patriarchal and heteronormative regimes is most fully understood through lenses that are feminist and queer.75 What is lost for the study of black existence in the proposal for a decentered, “postblack” paradigm is a proper analysis of the true scale and nature of black suffering and of the struggles — political, aesthetic, intellectual, and so on — that have sought to transform and undo it. What is lost for the study of nonblack nonwhite existence is a proper analysis of the true scale and nature of its material and symbolic power relative to the category of blackness.76 This is why every attempt to defend the rights and liberties of the latest victims of state repression will fail to make substantial gains insofar as it forfeits or sidelines the fate of blacks, the prototypical targets of the panoply of police practices and the juridical infrastructure built up around them. Without blacks on board, the only viable political option and the only effective defense against the intensifying cross fire will involve greater alliance with an antiblack civil society and further capitulation to the magnification of state power. At the apex of the midcentury social movements, Kwame Ture and Charles Hamilton wrote in their 1968 classic, Black Power: The Politics of Liberation, that black freedom entails “the necessarily total revamping of the society.”77 For Hartman, thinking of the entanglements of the African diaspora in this context, the necessarily total revamping of the society is more appropriately envisioned as the creation of an entirely new world: Black Subject key to Antagonistic Identity Wilderson, 03 (Frank, “Gramsci's Black Marx: Whither the Slave in Civil Society” an American writer, dramatist, filmmaker and critic. He is a full professor of Drama and African American studies at the University of California, Irvine. Pp. 1, AF) Any serious consideration of the question of antagonistic identity formation—a formation, the mass mobilization of which can precipitate a crisis in the institutions and assumptive logic which undergird the United States of America—must come to grips with the limitations of marxist discourse in the face of the Black subject. This is because the United States is constructed at the intersection of both a capitalist and white supremacist matrix. And the privileged subject of marxist discourse is a subaltern who is approached by variable capital—a wage. In other words, marxism assumes a subaltern structured by capital, not by white supremacy. In this scenario, racism is read off the base, as it were, as being derivative of political economy. This is not an adequate subalternity from which to think the elaboration of antagonistic identity formation; not if we are truly committed to elaborating a theory of crisis—crisis at the crux of America's institutional and discursive strategies. The perm doesn’t solve, because any presence of the aff won’t allow the alt’s action to take effect – this is important to solve social death of the black community Sexton 10 (Jared, Associate professor at UC Irvine People of Color Blindness; published in 1998; p. 43-44) In this light, we might augment the post-9/11 critique of the racial state regarding the Bush administration’s initiation of the ongoing war on terror, the passage of the PATRIOT Acts, the formation of the Department of Homeland Security, the “anti-terrorist” roundups of 2001, the torture of “enemy combatants” at U.S. military prisons, and so on.58 This redacted commentary might productively shift the prevailing conceptualization of American empire and especially the use of imprisonment and police profiling as tropes of the racialized political oppression it engenders, both nationally and internationally. We are in a position now to see how the deployment of this rhetorical device (for example, “Flying While Brown” is like “Driving While Black”; the Immigrant Workers Freedom Ride “builds on the history of the noble US civil rights movement”; the prisoner abuse at Abu Ghraib is reminiscent of the lynching of blacks)59 is made possible by a misrecognition of the lived experience of the black. This point is developed by Wilderson with reference to the distinction between political conflict (involving a demand that can be satisfied by the end of exploitation or the restoration of sovereignty) and political antagonism (involving a demand that cannot be satisfied through a transfer of ownership or organization of land and labor) or, in related fashion, between contingent forms of suffering (state violence incurred by breaching the modality of hegemony) and structural forms of suffering (state violence experienced as gratuitous, a direct relation of force).60 The former designation in each case encompasses a wide range of exploitation and exclusion, including colonization, occupation, and even extermination, while the latter indicates the singularity of racial slavery and its afterlife, the lasting paradox of a sentient and sapient being “sealed into crushing objecthood.”61 The normative character of terror insures its invisibility— the permutations attempt to make whiteness fluid is the link Hartman 02, Columbia University African American literature and history professor, 02(Saidiya V., Fall 2002, “The time of Slavery”, The South Atlantic Quarterly, Volume 101, Number 4, pp.757-777, CLF) History that hurts. The dungeon provides no redemption. Reckoning with our responsibility to the dead cannot save them. The victor has already won. It is not possible to undo the past. So, to what end do we conjure up the ghost? Of what use is an itinerary of terror? Does it provide little more than evidence of what we cannot change, or quell the uncertainty and doubt regardingmillions lost and unknown? The debate still rages as to howmany were transported to the Americas, killed in the raids and wars that supplied the trade, perished on the long journey to the coast, committed suicide, died of dehydration during the Middle Passage, or were beaten or worked to death— Isn’t it enough to know that for each captive who survived the ordeal of captivity and seasoning, at least one did not? At best, the backdrop of this defeat makes visible the diffuse violence and the everyday routines of domination, which continue to characterize black life but are obscured by their everydayness. The normative character of terror insures its invisibility; it defies detection behind rational categories like crime, poverty, and pathology. In other words, the necessity to underscore the centrality of the event, defined here in terms of captivity, deportation, and social death, is a symptom of the difficulty of representing ‘‘terror as usual.’’ The oscillation between then and now distills the past four hundred years into one definitive moment. And, at the same time, the still-unfolding narrative of captivity and dispossession exceeds the discrete parameters of the event. In itemizing the long list of violations, are we any closer to freedom, or do such litanies only confirm what is feared—history is an injury that has yet to cease happening? AT: Reformism The affirmative’s reformist project will never succeed – it will be twisted in ways that benefit the state and feed back into the system Sexton, 8[Jared, associate professor of African American studies and film and media studies “Amalgamation Schemes: Antiblackness and the Critique of Multiracialism,” page 45-47] However, the dispute was never as straightforward as both the multiracial contingent and a largely sympathetic mass media reported it to be. That is to say, the five-year federal review of official racial classification did not symbolize an enlightened turning point in the short and beleaguered history of postwar civil rights legislation but rather was enabled by and contributed to a rightward shift in the discourse of racial equality that had been underway throughout the preceding two decades. This political faux pas relied on a fundamental misunderstanding of—or a refusal to understand— the nature of civil rights compliance monitoring, the purpose and function of federal racial classification (as redacted per the 1964 Civil Rights Act), and the various methods available for the collection and tabulation of data on race (and ethnicity). To that end, it is telling that the multiracial movement refrained from putting forth any substantive arguments regarding either a history of discrimination or a violation of the civil rights of multiracial people per se. Instead, the demand to alter the existing classification scheme was grounded in a nebulous “right to recognition,” a pseudolegal claim buttressed by the specious contention that the physical, mental, and emotional health of the multiracial community, and the self-esteem of multiracial children most especially, hinged on this form of official acknowledgment.3 Rainier Spencer (1999), in a definitive treatment of the census debates of the 1990s, makes clear the distortion of historical mission sought by the multiracial lobby.4 Although various segments of the national population have sought social validation by way of the decennial survey, there is no such thing as a right to representation under its auspices, and the census clearly has never responded in any direct way to the self-perceptions of the demographic units it constructs. In other words, the census is an unfaithful mirror. Its historical origins lie in the dual interests of the state to apportion congressional representation and to levy taxes, and its recent transformation, an institutional legacy of the modern civil rights movement, has added to these tasks assistance in the enforcement of civil rights legislation dating back to the federal interventions of the Reconstruction era (Skerry 2000). The current racial classification scheme was developed in the decade following the apex of the civil rights era (from the mid- 1960s to the mid-1970s) in accordance with the latter objective—statistically tracking “progress toward racial equality” or the lack thereof—and any changes to its configuration must be based in such criteria. The multiracial intervention was thus fatally flawed on at least two counts. First, it failed not only to meet the criteria of relevance to civil rights enforcement but also even to present arguments to that end. Second, it demanded a change to the standards of federal racial classification when its overriding concern to create some statistical indices of race mixture was easily addressed by minor augmentation of the questions asked on the census schedule. Whatever data is gathered by the census must be filtered through the existing federal classification scheme in order for compliance to be measured. However, once this mandatory reporting is completed, the data can be retabulated in myriad ways, including approaches that would directly address the concerns of the multiracial movement to generate a revised racial profile of the national population. Given, then, that the error of the multiracial challenge to federal racial classification was glaring upon the most cursory review, the question remains as to why this coalition of advocacy groups would persist in a fundamentally misguided campaign over the better part of a decade. The answer is found partly in the learning curve of its different players, none of whom could be considered politically savvy, much less expert, on the often arcane policies of the federal bureaucracy. Another portion is accounted for by the sheer zeal of the campaign’s more vociferous personalities. The fervor that drove a small group of mostly white and middleclass professionals from a loosely affiliated band of support groups and fledgling student organizations into a highly visible media presence and, at least momentarily, an influential voice in the halls of Congress was characterized by considerable blindness to the broader implications of not only the various policy proposals under consideration but also the public commentary surrounding the controversy (Njeri 1997). This blindness was a major catalyst to the hostilities that arose immediately between multiracial groups and traditional civil rights organizations, such as the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People and the National Urban League, seeking to defend the existing system of civil rights compliance monitoring. It provided, as well, the basis of a schism between the liberal and conservative tendencies within the multiracial movement that eventually fractured the strategic alliance that had garnered attention in the first place. As those with greater sympathies for the wide-ranging goals of the civil rights establishment like the Association for Multiethnic Americans (AMEA) and the Hapa Issues Forum (HIF)5 gained clarity about the potential obstruction involved in the desired modification of federal racial classification, they rescinded their support for the original joint proposal of the multiracial lobby—the formation of a separate “multiracial” category in place of or in addition to the “other” designation— and revised their position toward the multiple-check option that eventually prevailed, leaving the extant classification scheme intact. By attempting to talk about the slave it causes the death of the slave – forces desire for inclusion in society which leads to the exploitation and eventual obliteration. Hartman, , 3. (Saidiya and Frank B, professor at Columbia University specializing in African American literature and history, and Wilderson III, professor of African American Studies @ UC Irvine published Spring/Summer 2003, The Position of the Unthought page 184) Saidiya V Hartman - Well! That's a lot, and a number of things ¶ come to mind. I think for me the book is about the problem of crafting a narrative for the slave as subject, and in terms of positionality, asking, "Who does that narrative enable?" That's where the whole issue of empathic identification is central for me. Because it ¶ just seems that every attempt to employ the slave in a narrative ultimately resulted in his or her obliteration, regardless of whether it ¶ was a leftist narrative of political agency someone else's shoes and then becoming a political agent whether it was about being able to unveil the slave's humanity by ¶ actually finding oneself in that position. ¶ In many ways, what I was trying to do as a cultural historian was to narrate a certain impossibility, to illuminate those practices¶ that speak to the limits of most available narratives to explain the ¶ position of the enslaved. On one hand, the slave is the foundation of the national order, and, on the other, the slave occupies the position of the unthought. So what does it mean to try to bring that ¶ position into view without making it a locus of positive value, or ¶ without trying to fill in the void? So much of our political vocabulary/imaginary/desires have been implicitly integrationist even ¶ when we imagine our claims are more radical. This goes to the sec ¶ ond part of the book - that ultimately the metanarrative thrust is ¶ always towards an integration into the national project, and particularly when that project is in crisis, black people are called upon to affirm it. ¶ So certainly it's about more than the desire for inclusion with in the limited set of possibilities that the national project provides. ¶ What then does this language - the given language of freedom -¶ enable? And once you realize its limits and begin to see its inex ¶ orable investment in certain notions of the subject and subjection,¶ then that language of freedom no longer becomes that which res¶ cues the slave from his or her former condition, but the site of the ¶ re-elaboration of that condition, rather than its transformation. AT: No alt solvency Black Subject Creates a Void of Revolution Wilderson, 03 (Frank, “Gramsci's Black Marx: Whither the Slave in Civil Society” an American writer, dramatist, filmmaker and critic. He is a full professor of Drama and African American studies at the University of California, Irvine. Pp. 1, AF) First, the Black American subject imposes a radical incoherence upon the assumptive logic of Gramscian discourse. In other words, s/he implies a scandal. Secondly, the Black subject reveals marxism's inability to think White supremacy as the base and, in so doing, calls into question marxism's claim to elaborate a comprehensive, or in the words of Antonio Gramsci, “decisive” antagonism. Stated another way: Gramscian marxism is able to imagine the subject which transforms her/himself into a mass of antagonistic identity formations, formations which can precipitate a crisis in wage slavery, exploitation, and/or hegemony, but it is asleep at the wheel when asked to provide enabling antagonisms toward unwaged slavery, despotism, and/or terror. Finally, we begin to see how marxism suffers from a kind of conceptual anxiety: a desire for socialism on the other side of crisis -- a society which does away not with the category of worker, but with the imposition workers suffer under the approach of variable capital: in other words, the mark of its conceptual anxiety is in its desire to democratize work and thus help keep in place, insure the coherence of, Reformation and Enlightenment “foundational” values of productivity and progress. This is a crowding-out scenario for other post revolutionary possibilities, i.e. idleness. AT: State good/reformism the struggle of the black community against the state essentially separates and demonizes the black community – the aff’s attempt to reform institutions that predicate their rule on slavery is impossible Sexton 10 (Jared, Associate professor at UC Irvine People of Color Blindness; published in 1998; p. 43-44) By way of illustration, let us consider briefly Haile Gerima’s powerful 1976 film, Bush Mama, one of the signal contributions to the black independent film movement of the early post–civil rights era.62 The most striking aspect of Bush Mama is not, as might be expected, the motif of disorientation: its ceaseless, frenetic action and escalating turmoil. Surely, the crowded and unforgiving urban ghetto is the referent and context of Gerima’s work and, in a sense, serves to constitute the projection of a besieged black interiority, the production of a lived space without reprieve and a juridical existence without recourse.63 One gets the sense that to be black in an antiblack world, a world captured brilliantly by Charles Burnett’s tense and jagged cinematography, is to be inundated and under assault at every turn, pushed into an endlessly kinetic movement; which is to say subjected to an open and absolute vulnerability — not so much controlled by the transnational channels of “disciplined mobility” as pressed by the forces of a merciless routing.64 Nor is it the explicit and nearly overwhelming thematic of conversion: from quotidian urgency and the pressurized hustle of everyday ghetto life to political insurgency and the principled rupture of historic change. There is a seductive, perhaps anodyne political reading of the film as a threat of riot or, more generously, a call to arms or, at least, an intuition of political opposition, even if it has not yet attained the language or the power to articulate platform and program. Yet it cannot escape our attention that this deservedly well-known production takes shape in the twilight of the black movement of the late 1960s and early 1970s; in the wake of an unparalleled, though not unprecedented, domestic state repression; amid the dimming cinders of the hundreds of scenes of urban uprising unfolding across the United States in the preceding decade; in the denouement of the great anticolonial revolts throughout Africa and the third world that would supply profound inspiration as points of identification and solidarity. Bush Mama is produced in the aftermath of rebellion, its containment and incorporation by adjustments of public policy and military strategy, the return or mutation of a mood that exercises even the conceptual limits of melancholia. The most stunning aspect of the film is, then, its recurrent torpor and heaviness, its palpably depressive atmosphere, its leitmotif of exhaustion. One thinks, for instance, of the many scenes of indefinite waiting, of vacant gazes drifting about unspecified points in the distance, of stolid faces peering through the steel bars of the prison-house cage, of being simply stuck here or there, of killing (and being killed by) time, of meandering reminiscence and pronouncement and exhortation, of hopelessly needing to be two or three places at once. The patent anxiety generated by this layering of impasses does not culminate in the film’s accelerating surface tempo or its taxing stretch across narrative tenterhooks. The more profound effect is, on the contrary, to slow the pace of this confrontation to a veritable standstill and to produce an affective condition beyond or beneath the tremors of panic. However, this is not to say that the film exhibits fatalism, defeatism, or despair. Exhaustion in no way precludes the labor of critical reflection, the hope of organized political action, or, for that matter, the enjoyment of a vibrant and sustaining cultural life. Nor does it disable engagement with what might be a complex and quite expected range of emotional stances as warranted by the situation: fear, outrage, doubt, sadness, evasion, desperation, even guarded buoyancy. Indeed, there are traces of all such energies in Bush Mama (so too for Gerima’s 1993 Sankofa), even where they are laced with the pathos of suffering that circulates along the blocked and barren carceral pathways of the ghetto. Exhaustion is operative at another cinematic level, produced through an amplification of the structuring breach in the conjunction of state and civil society, the point at which the black comes into radical acquaintance with herself: living scandal to the dead logic of capital, condition of possibility and impossibility for the operations of the commodity form, internal foreign object to the institutions of liberal democracy and mockery to its conceptions of citizen and subject, the conceits of its rule of law, the full repertoire of its criteria for human being. Ultimately, Bush Mama is a film about a fight that unfurls without the political vanity of struggle or the moral nobility of resilience, without the existential comforts of spirit and soul, without the historic promise of transformation, reconstruction, or even a form of alternate sociality — a fight without guarantees. As such, Bush Mama may have an audience or, like Celia, a jury, but it has no community.65 AT: Hegal/humans Hegel’s methodology is flawed – he views “black culture” as a culture without direction Snead 81 (James, James Arthur Snead was a professor, fiction writer, and film critic whose academic work analyzed literary modernism"On Repetition in Black Culture"; Black American Literature Forum, Vol. 15, No. 4; published in 1981; p. 148) Hegel's definition of black culture is simply negative: Ever-developing European culture is the prototype for the fulfillment of culture in the future; black culture is the antitype, ever on the threshold. Black culture, caught in "historylessness"( Geschichtslosigkeit),i s nonetheless shielded from attack or assimilation precisely by its aboriginal intangibility (though particular blacks themselves may not be so protected). According to Hegel, the African, radical in his effect upon the European, is a "strange form of selfconsciousness": unfixed in orientation towards transcendent goals and terrifyingly close to the cycles and rhythms of nature. The African, first, overturns all European categories of logic. Secondly, he has no idea of history or progress, but instead allows "accidents and surprises" to take hold of his fate. He is also not aware of being at a lower stage of development and perhaps even has no idea of what development is. Finally, he is "immediate" and intimately tied to nature with all its cyclical, non-progressive data. Having no self-consciousness, he is "immediate" i.e., always there in any given moment. Here we can see that, being there, the African is also always already there, or perhaps always there before, whereas the European is headed there or, better, not yet there. Hegel was almost entirely correct in his reading of black culture, but what he could not have guessed was that in his very criticism of it he had almost perfectly described the "there" to which European culture was "headed." Like all models that insist on discrete otherness, Hegel's definition implicitly constituted elements of black culture that have only in this century become manifest. Only after Freud, Nietzsche, comparative and structural anthropology, and the study of comparative religion could the frantic but ultimately futile coverings of repetition by European culture be seen as dispensible, albeit in limited instances of "uncovering." Moreover, the very aspects of black culture which had seemed to define its nonexistence for the phenomologist Hegel may now be valued as positive terms, given a revised metaphysics of rupture and opening." AT: Gender Arguments Blackness ungenders those who were victims of the middle passage – calculability was expanded to both genders in favor of rendering blackness object Spillers, 87 (Hortense, 1987, Gertrude Conaway Vanderbilt Professor @ Vanderbilt University The John Hopkins University Press, “Mama's Baby, Papa's Maybe: An American Grammar Book”, http://web.calstatela.edu/faculty/jgarret/texts/spillers.pdf, 7/8/14, KM) The conditions of “Middle Passage” are among the most incredible narratives available to the student, as it remains not easily imaginable. Late in the chronicles of the Atlantic Slave Trade, Britain’s Parliament entertained discussions concerning possible “regulations” for slave vessels. A Captain Perry visited the Liverpool port, and among the ships that he inspected was “The Brookes,” probably the most well-known image of the slave galley with its representative personae etched into the drawing like so many cartoon figures. Elizabeth Donnan’s second volume carries the “Brookes Plan,” along with an elaborate delineation of its dimensions from the investigative reporting of Perry himself: “Let it now be supposed … further, that every man slave is to be allowed six feet by one foot four inches for room, every woman five feet ten by one foot four, every boy five feet by one foot two, and every girl four feet six by one foot…” [2:592, n]. The owner of “The Brookes,” James Jones, had recommended that “five females be reckoned as four males, and three boys or girls as equal to two grown persons” [2:592]. ¶ These scaled inequalities complement the commanding terms of the dehumanizing, ungendering, and defacing project of African persons that De Azurara’s narrator might have recognized. It has been pointed out to me that these measurements do reveal the application of the gender rule to the material conditions of passage, but I would suggest that “gendering” takes place within the confines of the domestic, an essential metaphor that then spreads its tentacles for male and female subject over a wider ground of human and social purposes. Domesticity appears to gain its power by way of a common origin of cultural fictions that are grounded in the specificity of proper names, more exactly, a patronymic, which, in turn, situates those persons it “covers” in a particular place. Contrarily, the cargo of a ship might not be regarded as elements of the domestic, even though the vessel that carries it is sometimes romantically (ironically?) personified as “she.” The human cargo of a slave vessel – in the fundamental effacement and remission of African family and proper names – offers a counter-narrative to nations of the domestic. Those African persons in “Middle Passage” were literally suspended in the “oceanic,” if we think of the latter in its Freudian orientation as an analogy for undifferentiated identity: removed from the indigenous land and culture, and not-yet “American” either, these captive persons, without names that their captors would recognize, were in movement across the Atlantic, but they were also nowhere at all. Inasmuch as, on any given day, we might imagine, the captive personality did not know where s/he was, we could say that they were the culturally “unmade,” thrown in the midst of a figurative darkness that “exposed” their destinies to an unknown course. Often enough for the captains of these galleys, navigational science of the day was not sufficient to guarantee the intended destination. We might say that the slave ship, its crew, and its human-as-cargo stand for a wild and unclaimed richness of possibility that is not interrupted, not “counted”/”accounted,” or differentiated, until its movement gains the land thousands of miles away from the point of departure. Under these conditions, one is neither female, nor male, as both subjects are taken into “account” as quantities. The female in “Middle Passage,” as the apparently smaller physical mass, occupies “less room” in a directly translatable money economy. But she is, nevertheless, quantifiable by the same rules of accounting as her male counterpart. It is not only difficult for the student to find “female” in “Middle Passage,” but also, as Herbert S. Klein observes, “African women did not enter the Atlantic slave trade in anything like the numbers of African men. At all ages, men outnumbered women on the slave ships bound for America from Africa” [Klein 29]. Though this observation does not change the reality of African women’s captivity and servitude in New World communities, it does provide a perspective from which to contemplate the internal African slave trade, which, according to Africanists, remained a predominantly female market. Klein nevertheless affirms that those females forced into the trade were segregated “from men for policing purposes” [“African Women” 35]. He claims that both “were allotted the same space between decks…and both were fed the same food” . It is certainly known from evidence presented in Donnan’s third volume (“New England and the Middle Colonies”) that insurrection was both frequent and feared in passage, and we have not yet found a great deal of evidence to support a thesis that female captives participated in insurrectionary activity [see White 63-64]. Because it was the rule, however – not the exception – that the African female, in both indigenous African cultures and in what becomes her “home,” performed tasks of hard physical labor – so much so that the quintessential “slave” is not a male, but a female – we wonder at the seeming docility of the subject, granting her a “feminization” that enslavement kept at bay. Indeed, across the spate of discourse that I examined for this writing, the acts of enslavement and responses to it comprise a more or less agonistic engagement of confrontation hostilities among males. The visual and historical evidence betrays the dominant discourse on the matter as incomplete, but counter-evidence is inadequate as well: the sexual violation of captive females and their own express rage against their oppressors did not constitute events that captains and their crews rushed to record in letters to their sponsoring companies, or sons on board in letters home to their New England mamas. Race is a prior question to gender—ethnicity ungenders people by trapping them into a timeless mode of thought in which individuals are objectified by ethnic background irrespective of gender. Spillers, 87 (Hortense, 1987, Gertrude Conaway Vanderbilt Professor @ Vanderbilt University The John Hopkins University Press, “Mama's Baby, Papa's Maybe: An American Grammar Book”, http://web.calstatela.edu/faculty/jgarret/texts/spillers.pdf, 7/8/14, KM) In other words, in the historic outline of dominance, the respective subject-positions of “female” and “male” adhere to no symbolic integrity. At a time when current critical discourses appear to compel us more and more decidedly toward gender “undecidability,” it would appear reactionary, if not dumb, to insist on the integrity of female/male gender. But undressing these conflations of meaning, as they appear under the rule of dominance, would restore, as figurative possibility, not only Power to the Female (for Maternity), but also Power to the Male (for Paternity). We would gain, in short, the potential for gender differentiation as it might express itself along a range of stress points, including human biology in its intersection with the project of culture. ¶ Though among the most readily available “whipping boys” of fairly recent public discourse concerning African-Americans and national policy, “The Moynihan Report” is by no means unprecedented in its conclusions; it belongs, rather, to a class of symbolic paradigms that 1) inscribe “ethnicity” as a scene of negation and 2) confirm the human body as a metonymic figure for an entire repertoire of human and social arrangements. In that regard, the “Report” pursues a behavioral rule of public documentary. Under the Moynihan rule, “ethnicity” itself identifies a total objectification of human and cultural motives – the “white” family, by implication, and the “Negro family,” by outright assertion, in a constant opposition of binary meanings. Apparently spontaneous, these “actants” are wholly generated, with neither past nor future, as tribal currents moving out of time. Moynihan’s “Families” are pure present and always tense. “Ethnicity” in this case freezes in meaning, takes on constancy, assumes the look and the affects of the Eternal. We could say, then, that in its powerful stillness, “ethnicity,” from the point of view of the “Report,” embodies nothing more than a mode of memorial time, as Roland Barthes outlines the dynamics of myth [see “myth Today” 109-59; esp. 122-23]. As a signifier that has no movement in the field of signification, the use of “ethnicity” for the living becomes purely appreciative, although one would be unwise not to concede its dangerous and fatal effects. ===Aff Answers=== Perm ev. The perm ignores the ontological position of blacks, precludes the libidinal economy of Blackness, and is an attempt to subvert the movement – only an unflinching paradigmatic analysis can solve Wilderson 8[Frank, Professor of African American Studies and Drama @ UC Irvine, “Biko Lives!,” Editors: Manning Marable and Peniel Joseph, 95-102, BS] [The world cannot accommodate a black(ened) relation at the level of bodies—subjectivity. Thus, Black “presence is a form of absence” for to see a Black is to see the Black, an ontological frieze that waits for a gaze, rather than a living ontology moving with agency in the field of vision. The Black’s moment of recognition by the Other is always already “Blackness,” upon which supplements are lavished—American, Caribbean, Xhosa, Zulu, etc. But the supplements are superfluous rather than substantive, they don’t unblacken. As Gordon points out, “there is ‘something’ absent whenever blacks are present. The more present a black is, the more absent is this ‘something.’ And the more absent a black is, the more present is this something.” Blackness, then, is the destruction of presence, for Blacks “seem to suck presence into themselves as a black hole, pretty much like the astrophysical phenomenon that bears that name.”7 The inverse is even more devastating to contemplate vis-à-vis the dim prospects for Blacks in the world. For not only are Whites “prosthetic Gods,” the embodiment of “full presence,” that is, “when a white is absent something is absent,” there is “a lacuna in being,” as one would assume given the status of Blackness but Whiteness is also “the standpoint from which others are seen”; which is to say Whiteness is both full Presence and absolute perspectivity.8 [T]o look at a black body is to look at a mere being-among-beings . . . [But] the white body, being human (Presence), doesn’t live as a mere-beingamong- beings. It lives with the potential to be a being that stands out from mere beings. Its being-in-itself ironically enables it to be a being-for-itself.9 Human value is an effect of recognition that is inextricably bound with vision. Human value is an effect of perspectivity. What does it mean, then, if perspectivity, as the strategy for value extraction and expression, is most visionary when it is White and most blind when it is Black? It means that “to be valued [is to] receive value outside of blackness .”10 Blacks, then, void of Presence, cannot embody value, and void of perspectivity, cannot bestow value. Blacks cannot be. Their mode of being becomes the being of the NO. In a passage richly suggestive of maps, Gordon writes, “The worlds of the black and the white become worlds separated by Absence leading to ‘fate’ on the one hand and Presence leading to ‘freedom’ on the other. Put differently, the former lives in a world of WHEN and the latter lives in a world of WHETHER.”11 Here the Absence of cartographic Presence resonates in the libidinal economy in the way Black “homeland” (in this case, the Ciskei) replicates the constituent deficiencies of Black “body” or “subject.” The Black “homeland” is a fated place where fated Black bodies are domiciled. It is the nowhere of no one. But it is more—or less—for “homeland” cartography suffers from a double inscription. The “homeland” is an Absence of national Presence drawn on the Absence of continental Presence; a Black “nation” on a Black “continent”; nowhere to the power of two. Lamenting Africa’s status as terra nullius in the Human psyche, Sartre wrote, “A great many countries have been present in their time at the heart of our concerns, but Africa . . . is only an absence, and this great hole in the map of the world lets us keep our conscience clean.”12 Just as the Black body is a corpus (or corpse) of fated WHEN (when will I be arrested, when will I be shunned, when will I be a threat), the Black “homeland,” and the Black “continent” on which it sits, is a map of fated WHEN “battered down by tom-toms, cannibalism, intellectual deficiency, fetishism, racial defects, slave ships, and above all else, above all ‘Sho good eatin.’”13 From the terrestrial scale of cartography to the corporeal scale of the body, Blackness suffers through homologies of Absence.] Embracing mere existence allows for a politics predicated on love and friendship which affirms the humanity of other apart from politicized identity categories Enns 7 (Diane, Ph.D., Associate Professor of Philosophy and Peace Studies, McMaster University, “Political Life Before Identity”, Theory & Event 10:1, Project Muse) While this mere existence does not constitute an enviable condition for Arendt, she betrays some ambivalence towards it. She protests that inalienable human rights and the dignity that they confer, must be independent of human plurality and remain valid even for those expelled from the human community (OT 298). Whether it is possible, Arendt states, to articulate a sphere of human rights that is above the nation, guaranteed by humanity itself, is open to question. She argues that some kind of organized political community is necessary for all human individuals, yet nevertheless commits herself to thinking about the possibility of rights guaranteed by this naked condition of life beyond law, rights and polities -- for human rights must remain valid for mere existence, she states, the right to have rights must be guaranteed by humanity itself (OT 298). Thus while she considers naked life to pose a great danger to the common, political world -- it perhaps threatens our political life in an even more terrifying way than the wildness of nature once threatened man-made cities -- and even asserts that the production of such mere existence forces people into conditions of savagery and barbarism (OT 302), she alludes to the potentially affirmative mere existence, that is, all that which is mysteriously given us by birth and which includes the shape of our bodies and the talents of our minds, can be adequately dealt with only by the unpredictable hazards of friendship and sympathy, or by the great and incalculable grace of love, which says with Augustine, "Volo ut sis (I want you to be)," without being able to give any particular reason for such supreme and unsurpassable affirmation. (OT 301) In Agamben's notion of bare life, we again conditions of this status when she relates it to love and friendship: This find a certain ambivalence; one that I will argue can only be understood in the context of a revised understanding of the meaning of politics. Like Arendt in the above passage, Agamben opens his series of texts on love is never directed toward this or that property of the loved one (being blond, being small, being tender, being lame), but neither does it neglect the properties in favor of an insipid generality (universal love): The lover wants the loved one with all of its predicates, its being such as it is."28 It is this "being-such" that is always hidden when we consider relations of belonging to this or that property or class. In other words, when we think of an individual as defined by this particular identity or that, as black or white, male or female, Muslim or Christian, what is denied or hidden is this being-such with all of its predicates. What happens in friendship and love that alters the tendency (and sometimes the imperative) to simplify and essentialize the identity categories to which we belong? In friendship we cease to see the other as white or as black, as gay or straight, able or disabled, female or male. At least, we are aware of these particular identifying categories of a companion, but exist in relation with him or her in a state of "forgetfulness" of, or "indifference" to, this reduction to one singular category. It is when pushing a political life, community and sovereign power, by referring to a singular relationship between mere existence and love. He writes that " wheelchair-bound friend into an airport and noting with annoyance the infantilizing treatment to which one's intelligent and dignified friend is subjected by well-intentioned airport employees, that she becomes disabled. This is not to deny the unique obstacles her disability places before her on a daily basis, but to acknowledge how devastating this lack of the state of forgetfulness can be, as the loved one with all of her predicates becomes reduced to one identifiable category. In using such terms as forgetfulness or indifference, I am attempting to find a language to describe this effect of loving or seeing the other with all of her It isn't blindness to disability, color, or gender, but recognition of and appreciation for the bare existence or life of the other, against which the skin color, genitalia or degree of muscle coordination responsible for designating us as this or that identity become relatively insignificant. Insignificant for the love we bear him or her, which is not the same as saying insignificant in the sense that another's struggle to live with dignity in the face of discrimination is ignored. predicates, her being such as it is -- an "I want you to be" without reason. Radical humanism takes up the burden and the ambiguity of humanity. Identification with common humanity across lines of oppression opens up possibilities for everyday political virtue. GILROY 9 [Paul, Anthony Giddens Prf. of Social Theory @ London School of Economics Race and the Right to be Human p. 20-23] Arendt and Agamben are linked by their apparent distaste for analyzing racism and by their complex and critical relations to the idea of the human. This combination of positions can facilitate hostility to the project of human rights which is then dismissed for its inability to face the political and strategic processes from which all rights derive and a related refusal to address the analytical shortcomings that arise from the dependence of human rights on an expansion of the rule of law—which can incidentally be shown to be fully compatible with colonial crimes23. Histories of colonial power and genealogies of racial statecraft can help to explain both of these problems and to break the impasse into which the analysis of human rights has fallen. This is another reason why anti-racism remains important. It does not argue naively for a world without hierarchy but practically for a world free of that particular hierarchy which has accomplished untold wrongs. The possibility that abstract nakedness was not so much a cipher of insubstantial humanity but a sign of racial hierarchy in operation arises from the work of concentration camp survivors. Jean Améry recognized his own experience through a reading of Fanon. Primo Levi, his fellow Auschwitz inmate and interlocutor, who interpreted the lager’s brutal exercises in racial formation as conducted for the benefit of their perpetrators, suggested that racism’s capacity to reconcile rationality and irrationality was expressed in the dominance of outrage over economic profit. Both men saw infrahuman victims made to perform the subordination that race theory required and anticipated but which their bodies did not spontaneously disclose. Inspired by Levi, by the philosophical writings of Jean Améry, and various other observers of and commentators on the pathologies of European civilisation, we should aim to answer the corrosive allure of absolute sameness and purity just as they did, with a historical and moral commitment to the political, ethical and educational potential of human shame. Though being ashamed may sometimes appear to overlap with sentimentality or even to be its result, they are different. Excessive sentimentality blocks shame’s productivity, its slow, humble path towards ordinary virtue. Shame arises where identification is complicated by a sense of responsibility. Sentimentalism offers the pleasures of identification in the absence of a feeling of responsible attachment. Améry was an eloquent proponent of what he called a radical humanism. Through discovering his Jewishness under the impact of somebody’s fist but more especially as a result of having been tortured by the Nazis, he acquired a great interest in a politics of dignity which could answer the governmental actions that brought racial hierarchy to dismal life. Perhaps for that very reason, he found through his post-war reading of Fanon, that “the lived experience of the black man . . . corresponded in many respects to my own formative and indelible experience as a Jewish inmate of a concentration camp. . .”. He continued: “I too suffered repressive violence without buffering or mitigating mediation. The world of the concentration camp too was a Manichaean one: virtue was housed in the SS blocks, profligacy, stupidity, malignance and laziness in the inmates’ barracks. Our gaze onto the SS-city was one of ‘envy’ and ‘lust’ as well. As with the colonized Fanon, each of us fantasized at least once a day of taking the place of the oppressor. In the concentration camp too, just as in the native city, envy ahistorically transformed itself into aggression against fellow inmates with whom fought over a bowl of soup while the whip of the oppressor lashed at us with no need to conceal its force and power.”24 With Levi and Fanon, Améry shared a commitment to extracting humanistic perspectives from the extremity he had survived in the lager. In a famous  essay exploring his experiences at the hands of the Gestapo, he insisted that torture was “the essence”25 of the Third Reich and in making that case, shows how these issues should become important again in comprehending and criticising the brutal, permissive conduct of “the war on terror”. Alt Offense Their epistemological framework is essentialist and totalizing – effaces the possibility for African communal politics BÂ 11 (SAËR MATY, teaches film at Portsmouth University, “The US Decentred From Black Social Death to Cultural Transformation”, hthttp://epress.lib.uts.edu.au/journals/index.php/csrj/article/view/2304/2474, Acc: 8/3/12,) —WILDERSON’S WHITE WATCH SEES RED ON BLACK: SOME WEAKNESSES¶ A few pages into Red, White and Black, I feared that it would just be a matter of time¶ before Wilderson’s black‐as‐social‐death idea and multiple attacks on issues and¶ scholars he disagrees with run (him) into (theoretical) trouble. This happens in¶ chapter two, ‘The Narcissistic Slave’, where he critiques black film theorists and¶ books. For example, Wilderson declares that Gladstone Yearwood’s Black Film as¶ Signifying Practice (2000) ‘betrays a kind of conceptual anxiety with respect to the¶ historical object of study— ... it clings, anxiously, to the film‐as‐text‐as‐legitimateobject¶ of Black cinema.’ (62) He then quotes from Yearwood’s book to highlight ‘just¶ how vague the aesthetic foundation of Yearwood’s attempt to construct a canon can¶ be’. (63)¶ And yet Wilderson’s highlighting is problematic because it overlooks the¶ ‘Diaspora’ or ‘African Diaspora’, a key component in Yearwood’s thesis that,¶ crucially, neither navel‐gazes (that is, at the US or black America) nor pretends to¶ properly engage with black film. Furthermore, Wilderson separates the different¶ waves of black film theory and approaches them, only, in terms of how a most recent¶ one might challenge its precedent. Again, his approach is problematic because it¶ does not mention or emphasise the inter‐connectivity of/in black film theory. As a¶ case in point, Wilderson does not link Tommy Lott’s mobilisation of Third Cinema¶ for black film theory to Yearwood’s idea of African Diaspora. (64) Additionally, of¶ course, Wilderson seems unaware that Third Cinema itself has been fundamentally¶ questioned since Lott’s 1990s’ theory of black film was formulated. Yet another¶ consequence of ignoring the African Diaspora is that it exposes Wilderson’s corpus¶ of films as unable to carry the weight of the transnational argument he attempts to¶ advance. Here, beyond the US‐centricity or ‘social and political specificity of [his]¶ filmography’, (95) I am talking about Wilderson’s choice of films. For example,¶ Antwone Fisher (dir. Denzel Washington, 2002) is attacked unfairly for failing to¶ acknowledge ‘a grid of captivity across spatial dimensions of the Black “body”, the¶ Black “home”, and the Black “community”’ (111) while films like Alan and Albert¶ Hughes’s Menace II Society (1993), overlooked, do acknowledge the same grid and,¶ additionally, problematise Street Terrorism Enforcement and Prevention Act (STEP)¶ policing. The above examples expose the fact of Wilderson’s dubious and¶ questionable conclusions on black film.¶ Red, White and Black is particularly undermined by Wilderson’s propensity for¶ exaggeration and blinkeredness. In chapter nine, ‘“Savage” Negrophobia’, he writes:¶ The philosophical anxiety of Skins is all too aware that through the Middle¶ Passage, African culture became Black ‘style’ ... Blackness can be placed¶ and displaced with limitless frequency and across untold territories, by¶ whoever so chooses. Most important, there is nothing real Black people¶ can do to either check or direct this process ... Anyone can say ‘nigger’¶ because anyone can be a ‘nigger’. (235)7¶ Similarly, in chapter ten, ‘A Crisis in the Commons’, Wilderson addresses the issue of¶ ‘Black time’. Black is irredeemable, he argues, because, at no time in history had it¶ been deemed, or deemed through the right historical moment and place. In other¶ words, the black moment and place are not right because they are ‘the ship hold of¶ the Middle Passage’: ‘the most coherent temporality ever deemed as Black time’ but¶ also ‘the “moment” of no time at all on the map of no place at all’. (279)¶ Not only does Pinho’s more mature analysis expose this point as preposterous¶ (see below), I also wonder what Wilderson makes of the countless historians’ and¶ sociologists’ works on slave ships, shipboard insurrections and/during the Middle¶ Passage,8 or of groundbreaking jazz‐studies books on cross‐cultural dialogue like¶ The Other Side of Nowhere (2004). Nowhere has another side, but once Wilderson¶ theorises blacks as socially and ontologically dead while dismissing jazz as¶ ‘belonging nowhere and to no one, simply there for the taking’, (225) there seems to¶ be no way back. It is therefore hardly surprising that Wilderson ducks the need to¶ provide a solution or alternative to both his sustained bashing of blacks and anti‐¶ Blackness.9 Last but not least, Red, White and Black ends like a badly plugged¶ announcement of a bad Hollywood film’s badly planned sequel: ‘How does one¶ deconstruct life? Who would benefit from such an undertaking? The coffle¶ approaches with its answers in tow.’ (340) Affirming racial identity – victim or perpetrator - causes genocide and prevents progress Enns 7 (Diane, Ph.D., Associate Professor of Philosophy and Peace Studies, McMaster University, “Political Life Before Identity”, Theory & Event 10:1, Project Muse) In his formidable analysis of the Rwandan genocide, Mahmood Mamdani concludes that political identities are artifacts. This does not mean there are not real victims or real perpetrators, but that continuing to act in the name of an identity once an economy of violence has sprung out of the binary logic of victim and perpetrator, or friend and enemy, does not enable political transformation, but prevents it. The great crime of colonialism, from this perspective, went beyond the expropriation of the native; "the greater crime was to politicize indigeneity in the first place."6 Mamdani includes in this politicization both the negative libeling of the native by the settler, as well as the positive self-assertion of the native response to this libel, a perspective remarkably similar, as we shall see, to Fanon's position in Black Skin White Masks. The 1994 genocide in Rwanda -- unprecedented for its massive civilian participation in the massacre of the Tutsi population -occurred in the context of a political world set in motion by Belgian colonialism: a world divided into natives and settlers. The genocide was a natives' genocide, Mamdani argues, a struggle by the majority, the Hutu, to cleanse the country of a threatening "alien" presence, the minority Tutsi, a group with a privileged relation to power before colonialism. This was a violence not of neighbors a violence therefore that sought to eliminate a foreign presence from home soil. Rather than focusing on the origin of a racial or ethnic difference, against neighbors then, as it is generally portrayed, he contends, but against a population viewed as a foreigner; the crucial task, according to Mamdani, is to ask when and how Hutu was made into a native identity and Tutsi into a settler identity, and to understand how violence is the key to sustaining the relationship between them.7 It is not merely the settler's or perpetrator's worldview we need to break out of, but that of the victim as well, for they stand or fall together. Alt Defense Wilderson’s theory is problematic – he cherrypicks films, his claims have been disproven, and he doesn’t provide an alternative Bâ, 11[Saër Maty, professor of film studies, September 2011, “The US Decentred From Black Social Death to Cultural Transformation,” Publication, Volume: 17 Number 2, page 383-385, BS] A few pages into Red, White and Black, I feared that it would just be a matter of time before Wilderson’s black-associal-death idea and multiple attacks on issues and scholars he disagrees with run (him) into (theoretical) trouble. This happens in chapter two, 'The Narcissistic Slave’, where he critiques black film theorists and books. For example, Wilderson declares that Gladstone Yearwood’s Black Film as Signifying Practice (2000) ‘betrays a kind of conceptual anxiety with respect to the historical object of study— ... it clings, anxiously, to the film-astext-as-legitimate- object of Black cinema.' (62) He then quotes from Yearwood’s book to highlight ‘just how vague the aesthetic foundation of Yearwood’s attempt to construct a canon can be’. (63) And yet Wilderson’s highlighting is problematic because it overlooks the ‘Diaspora’ or ‘African Diaspora', a key component in Yearwood’s thesis that, crucially, neither navel-gazes (that is, at the US or black America) nor pretends to properly engage with black film. Furthermore, Wilderson separates the different waves of black film theory and approaches them, only, in terms of how a most recent one might challenge its precedent. Again, his approach is problematic because it does not mention or emphasise the interconnectivity of/in black film theory. As a case in point, Wilderson does not link Tommy Lott's mobilisation of Third Cinema for black film theory to Yearwood’s idea of African Diaspora. (64) Additionally, of course, Wilderson seems unaware that Third Cinema itself has been fundamentally questioned since Lott's 1990s' theory of black film was formulated. Yet another consequence of ignoring the African Diaspora is that it exposes Wilderson’s corpus of films as unable to carry the weight of the transnational argument he attempts to advance. Here, beyond the US-centricity or ‘social and political specificity of [his] filmography’, (95) I am talking about Wilderson’s choice of films. For example, Antwone Fisher (dir. Denzel Washington, 2002) is attacked unfairly for failing to acknowledge ‘a grid of captivity across spatial dimensions of the Black “body", the Black “home", and the Black “community"' (111) while films like Alan and Albert Hughes's Menace II Society (1993), overlooked, do acknowledge the same grid and, additionally, problematise Street Terrorism Enforcement and Prevention Act (STEP) policing. The above examples expose the fact of Wilderson’s dubious and questionable conclusions on black film. Red, White and Black is particularly undermined by Wilderson’s propensity for exaggeration and blinkeredness. In chapter nine, ‘“Savage" Negrophobia', he writes: The philosophical anxiety of Skins is all too aware that through the Middle Passage, African culture became Black 'style' ... Blackness can be placed and displaced with limitless frequency and across untold territories, by whoever so chooses. Most important, there is nothing real Black people can do to either check or direct this process ... Anyone can say ‘nigger’ because anyone can be a ‘nigger’. (235)7 Similarly, in chapter ten, ‘A Crisis in the Commons’, Wilderson addresses the issue of ‘Black time’. Black is irredeemable, he argues, because, at no time in history had it been deemed, or deemed through the right historical moment and place. In other words, the black moment and place are not right because they are ‘the ship hold of the Middle Passage’: ‘the most coherent temporality ever deemed as Black time’ but also ‘the “moment” of no time at all on the map of no place at all’. (279) Not only does Pinho’s more mature analysis expose this point as preposterous (see below), I also wonder what Wilderson makes of the countless historians’ and sociologists’ works on slave ships, shipboard insurrections and/during the Middle Passage,8 or of groundbreaking jazz-studies books on cross-cultural dialogue like The Other Side of Nowhere (2004). Nowhere has another side, but once Wilderson theorises blacks as socially and ontologically dead while dismissing jazz as ‘belonging nowhere and to no one, simply there for the taking’, (225) there seems to be no way back. It is therefore hardly surprising that Wilderson ducks the need to provide a solution or alternative to both his sustained bashing of blacks and anti- Blackness.9 Last but not least, Red, White and Black ends like a badly plugged announcement of a bad Hollywood film’s badly planned sequel: ‘How does one deconstruct life? Who would benefit from such an undertaking? The coffle approaches with its answers in tow.’ (340) We should affirm mere existence – identity affirmation produces violence Enns 7 (Diane, Ph.D., Associate Professor of Philosophy and Peace Studies, McMaster University, “Political Life Before Identity”, Theory & Event 10:1, Project Muse) Giorgio Agamben's work is increasingly invoked in the task of articulating a politics and ethics of "whatever singularity" or bare life, concepts that have sparked a flurry of attention, especially on the part of those concerned with what these terms imply for political resistance. Drawing out the practical implications of what are often highly abstract formulations is proving to be a challenge.3 I will attempt to meet this challenge by bringing Arendt and Agamben into a discussion concerning race, racism, and victimhood; a particularly salient site for investigating questions of identity and its relation to politics, as well as a timely one, given the new global forms of racism we are currently proliferation of violent conflicts around the world, whatever their origins -- perpetuated by the has rendered even the most strategic of strategic essentialisms problematic. I will argue that a focus on what is variously described by Arendt and Agamben as bare life, the pure fact of being human, biological life, or the human-as-such, holds promise for a political thought and practice attempting to extricate itself from the determinations of politicized identities. This is not the promotion of a universal category or community of the human -- not therefore, an abstract universal subject -- but an appeal to the significance of the singularity of life; the bare life or "mere existence" that is included in the realm of politics, power, and rights, only by way of its exclusion. witnessing.4 It is my contention that the fear and hatred of an enemy whose identity is never in question -- They rely on a juridical concept of power. They hold whites responsible, call for a win & a loss… McWhorter 5 [Ladelle, Prof. of Philosophy and Women's Studies, University of Richmond, Philosophy & Social Criticism, vol 31 nos 5–6, 2005, p. 533–556] In the growing body of literature that makes up what has in recent years come to be called ‘Whiteness Studies’, observations like the following are commonplace: ‘Whiteness has, at least within the modern era and within Western societies, tended to be constructed as a norm, an unchanging and unproblematic location, a position from which all other identities come to be marked by their difference’ (Bonnett, 1996: 146).1 According to Whiteness Studies theorists, the white race functions not so much as a race, one among many, as, at times at least, the race – the real human race – and, at other times, no race, simply the healthy, mature norm of human existence as opposed to all those other groups of people who are somehow off-white, off-track, more or less deviant. Whiteness, the racial norm in Western industrial societies, is at one and the same time the exemplar of human being and the unmarked selfsame over against the racially marked other(s).2¶ This understanding of whiteness emerged in the late 1980s and 1990s as race scholars in the USA and the UK began to treat white identity as an epistemic object, in contrast to many earlier race theorists who studied non-whites primarily.3 By taking whiteness as an object of study, these scholars problematized the status of the white race as an unmarked norm and exposed the racism implicit in its having that status. Thus, it seemed, these new race theorists had discovered a potentially very powerful tool for dismantling racism. Revealing the ways in which whiteness functions as a racial norm, they began to denaturalize it and thereby rob it of some of its power to order thought and practice. Their scholarship was and is, deliberately and unapologetically, deeply engaged political activism. Feminist sociologist Ruth Frankenberg articulates this confluence of theory and practice well when she writes: ‘Naming whiteness and white people helps dislodge the claims of both to rightful dominance’ (Frankenberg, 1993: 234).¶ While readers of the work of Michel Foucault may well be struck by the deep affinities between Foucaultian genealogy, counter-memory, and counterattack on the one hand and Whiteness Studies’ denaturalization of heretofore largely unquestioned racial categories on the other, surprisingly most writers in the Whiteness Studies movement seem all but unaware of Foucault’s analytics of biopower and his descriptions of normalization.4 Their repeated observation that whiteness functions as a norm and their close analyses of its unmarked status come not out of an awareness of Foucaultian genealogy but rather out of sociological studies of institutional racism like Omi and Winant’s Racial Formation in the United States: From the 1960s to the 1990s (1994). Their work sounds like Foucault’s at times, but if they are moving toward an analysis that is like his in some ways, it is from a starting point that is radically different. In this paper I will argue that, in part because of the limitations imposed by that different starting point, Whiteness Studies theorists typically miss their mark both naalytically and politically. Their major problem lies in the fact that they still work within what Foucault calls a juridical conception of power, a conception that simply does not capture the ways in which power operates in modern industrialized societies, especially in relation to the so obviously biopolitical phenomenon of racial oppression. Cede the Political Their understanding of whiteness leaves whites with one option – insurgency and repudiation. This is bound to fail—liberal actions creates a representation of “whiteness” that faciliates rearticulating a positive, and anti-racist white racial formation. Winant ’97 Sociology Howard @ UCSB Behind Blue Eyes: Contemporary White Racial Politics http://www.soc.ucsb.edu/faculty/winant/whitness.html Nevertheless, the neoliberal project does undertake a crucial task: the construction of a transracial political agenda, and the articulation of white and minority interests in a viable strategic perspective. This is something which has been missing from the US political scene since the enactment of civil rights legislation thirty years ago. THE ABOLITIONIST PROJECT Drawing their inspiration from W.E.B. Du Bois and James Baldwin, the social historians who have provided the core insights of the abolitionist project stress the "invention of whiteness" as a pivotal development in the rise of US capitalism. They have begun a process of historical reinterpretation which aims to set race -- or more properly, the gestation and evolution of white supremacy -- at the center of US politics and culture. Thus far, they have focused attention on a series of formative events and processes: the precedent of British colonial treatment of the Irish (Allen 1994, Ignatiev 1995); the early, multiracial resistance to indentured servitude and quasi-slavery, which culminated in the defeat of Bacon's Rebellion in late 17th century Virginia; the self-identification of "free" workers as white in the antebellum North (Roediger 1991); and the construction of a "white republic" in the late 19th century (Saxton 1990). These studies, in some cases quite prodigious intellectual efforts, have had a significant impact on how we understand not only racial formation, but also class formation and the developing forms of popular culture in US history. What they reveal above all is how crucial the construction of whiteness was, and remains, for the development and maintenance of capitalist class rule in the US. Furthermore, these studies also show how the meaning of whiteness, like that of race in general, has time and again proved flexible enough to adapt to shifts in the capitalist division of labor, to reform initiatives which extended democratic rights, and to changes in ideology and cultural representation. The core message of the abolitionist project is the imperative of repudiation of white identity and white privilege, the requirement that "the lie of whiteness" be exposed. This rejection of whiteness on the part of those who benefit from it, this "new abolitionism," it is argued, is a precondition for the establishment of substantive racial equality and social justice -- or more properly, socialism -- in the US. Whites must become "race traitors," as the new journal of the abolitionist project calls itself. Its motto: "Treason to whiteness is loyalty to humanity." How is this rejection of whiteness to be accomplished? Both analytical and practical measures are envisioned. On the intellectual level, the abolitionist project invites us to contemplate the emptiness, indeed vacuity, of the white category: It is not merely that whiteness is oppressive and false; it is that whiteness is nothing but oppressive and false.... It is the empty and terrifying attempt to build an identity based on what one isn't and on whom one can hold back (Roediger 1994, 13; emphasis original). In short, there is no white culture, no white politics, no whiteness, except in the sense of distancing and rejection of racially-defined "otherness." On the practical level, the argument goes, whites can become "race traitors" by rejecting their privilege, by refusing to collude with white supremacy. When you hear that racist joke, confront its teller. When you see the police harassing a nonwhite youth, try to intervene or at least bear witness. In short, recognize that white supremacy depends on the thousands of minute acts that reproduce it from moment to moment; it must "deliver" to whites a sense of their own security and superiority; it must make them feel that "I am different from those "others." Single gestures of this sort, Race Traitor's editors say, ...would [not] in all likelihood be of much consequence. But if enough of those who looked white broke the rules of the club to make the cops doubt their ability to recognize a white person merely by looking at him or her, how would it affect the cops' behavior (Editorial 1993, 4-5)? Thus the point is not that all whites recognize the lie of their privilege, but that enough whites do so, and act out their rejection of that lie, to disrupt the "white club's" ability to enforce its supremacy. It is easy to sympathize with this analysis, at least up to a point. The postwar black movement, which in the US context at least served as the point of origin for all the "new social movements" and the much-reviled "politics of identity," taught the valuable lesson that politics went "all the way down." That is, meaningful efforts to achieve greater social justice could not tolerate a public/private, or a collective/individual distinction. Trying to change society meant trying to change one's own life. The formula "the personal is political," commonly associated with feminism, had its early origins among the militants of the civil rights movement (Evans 1980). The problems come when deeper theoretical and practical problems are raised. Despite their explicit adherence to a "social construction" model of race (one which bears a significant resemblance to my own work), theorists of the abolitionist project do not take that insight as seriously as they should. They employ it chiefly to argue against biologistic conceptions of race, which is fine; but they fail to consider the complexities and rootedness of social construction, or as we would term it, racial formation. Is the social construction of whiteness so flimsy that it can be repudiated by a mere act of political will, or even by widespread and repeated acts aimed at rejecting white privilege? I think not; whiteness may not be a legitimate cultural identity in the sense of having a discrete, "positive" content, but it is certainly an overdetermined political and cultural category, having to do with socioeconomic status, religious affiliation, ideologies of individualism, opportunity, and citizenship, nationalism, etc. Like any other complex of beliefs and practices, "whiteness" is imbedded in a highly articulated social structure and system of significations; rather than trying to repudiate it, we shall have to rearticulate it. That sounds like a daunting task, and of course it is, but it is not nearly as impossible as erasing whiteness altogether, as the abolitionist project seeks to do. Furthermore, because whiteness is a relational concept, unintelligible without reference to nonwhiteness -- note how this is true even of Roediger's formulation about "build[ing] an identity based on what one isn't" -- that rearticulation (or reinterpretation, or deconstruction) of whiteness can begin relatively easily, in the messy present, with the recognition that whiteness already contains substantial nonwhite elements. Of course, that recognition is only the beginning of a large and arduous process of political labor, which I shall address in the concluding section of this paper. Notwithstanding these criticisms of the abolitionist project, we consider many of its insights to be vital components in the process of reformulating, or synthesizing, a progressive approach to whiteness. Its attention is directed toward prescisely the place where the neo-liberal racial project is weak: the point at which white identity constitutes a crucial support to white supremacy, and a central obstacle to the achievement of substantive social equality and racial justice. CONCLUDING NOTES: WHITENESS AND CONTEMPORARY POLITICS In a situation of racial dualism, as Du Bois observed more than 90 years ago, race operates both to assign us and to deny us our identity. It both makes the social world intelligible, and simultaneously renders it opaque and mysterious. Not only does it allocate resources, power, and privilege; it also provides means for challenging that allocation. The contradictory character of race provides the context in which racial dualism -or the "color-line," as Du Bois designated it, has developed as "the problem of the 20th century." So what's new? Only that, as a result of incalculable human effort, suffering, and sacrifice, we now realize that these truths apply across the board. Whites and whiteness can no longer be exempted from the comprehensive racialization process that is the hallmark of US history and social structure. This is the present-day context for racial conflict and thus for US politics in general, since race continues to play its designated role of crystallizing all the fundamental issues in US society. As always, we articulate our anxieties in racial terms: wealth and poverty, crime and punishment, gender and sexuality, nationality and citizenship, culture and power, are all articulated in the US primarily through race. So what's new? It's the problematic of whiteness that has emerged as the principal source of anxiety and conflict in the postwar US. Although this situation was anticipated or prefigured at earlier moments in the nation's past -- for example, in the "hour of eugenics" (Stepan 1991, Kevles 1985, Gould 1981) -it is far more complicated now than ever before, largely due to the present unavailability of biologistic forms of racism as a convenient rationale for white supremacy. Whiteness -- visible whiteness, resurgent whiteness, whiteness as a color, whiteness as difference -- this is what's new, and newly problematic, in contemporary US politics. The reasons for this have already emerged in my discussion of the spectrum of racial projects and the particular representations these projects assign to whiteness. Most centrally, the problem of the meaning of whiteness appears as a direct consequence of the movement challenge posed in the 1960s to white supremacy. The battles of that period have not been resolved; they have not been won or lost; however battered and bruised, the demand for substantive racial equality and general social justice still lives. And while it lives, the strength of white supremacy is in doubt. The racial projects of the right are clear efforts to resist the challenge to white supremacy posed by the movements of the 1960s and their contemporary inheritors. Each of these projects has a particular relationship to the white supremacist legacy, ranging from the far right's efforts to justify and solidify white entitlements, through the new right's attempts to utilize the white supremacist tradition for more immediate and expedient political ends, to the neoconservative project's quixotic quest to surgically separate the liberal democratic tradition from the racism that traditionally underwrote it. The biologistic racism of the far right, the expedient and subtextual racism of the new right, and the bad-faith anti-racism of the neoconservatives have many differences from each other, but they have at least one thing in common. They all seek to maintain the long-standing association between whiteness and US political traditions, between whiteness and US nationalism, between whiteness and universalism. They all seek in different ways to preserve white identity from the particularity, the difference, which the 1960s movement challenge assigned to it. The racial projects of the left are the movements' successors (as is neoconservatism, in a somewhat perverse sense). Both the neoliberal racial project and the abolitionist project seek to fulfill the movement's thwarted dreams of a genuinely (i.e., substantively) egalitarian society, one in which significant redistribution of wealth and power has taken place, and race no longer serves as the most significant marker between winners and losers, haves and have nots, powerful and powerless. Although they diverge significantly -- since the neoliberals seek to accomplish their ends through a conscious diminution of the significance of race, and the abolitionists hope to achieve similar ends through a conscious reemphasizing of the importance of race -- they also have one very important thing in common. They both seek to rupture the barrier between whites and racially-defined minorities, the obstacle which prevents joint political action. They both seek to associate whites and nonwhites, to reinterpret the meaning of whiteness in such a way that it no longer has the power to impede class alliances. Although the differences and indeed the hostility -- between the neoliberal and abolitionist projects, between the reform-oriented and radical conceptions of whiteness -- are quite severe, we consider it vital that adherents of each project recognize that they hold part of the key to challenging white supremacy in the contemporary US, and that their counterpart project holds the other part of the key. Neoliberals rightfully argue that a pragmatic approach to transracial politics is vital if the momentum of racial reaction is to be halted or reversed . Abolitionists properly emphasize challenging the ongoing commitment to white supremacy on the part of many whites. Both of these positions need to draw on each other, not only in strategic terms, but in theoretical ones as well. The recognition that racial identities -- all racial identities, including whiteness -- have become implacably dualistic, could be far more liberating on the left than it has thus far been. For neoliberals, it could permit and indeed justify an acceptance of race-consciousness and even nationalism among racially-defined minorities as a necessary but partial response to disenfranchisement, disempowerment, and superexploitation. There is no inherent reason why such a political position could not coexist with a strategic awareness of the need for strong, classconscious, transracial coalitions. We have seen many such examples in the past: in the anti-slavery movement, the communist movement of the 1930s (Kelley 1994), and in the 1988 presidential bid of Jesse Jackson, to name but a few. This is not to say that all would be peace and harmony if such alliances could come more permanently into being. But there is no excuse for not attempting to find the pragmatic "common ground" necessary to create them. Abolitionists could also benefit from a recognition that on a pragmatic basis, whites can ally with racially-defined minorities without renouncing their whiteness. If they truly agree that race is a socially constructed concept, as they claim, abolitionists should also be able to recognize that racial identities are not either-or matters, not closed concepts that must be upheld in a reactionary fashion or disavowed in a comprehensive act of renunciation. To use a postmodern language I dislike: racial identities are deeply "hybridized"; they are not "sutured," but remain open to rearticulation. "To be white in America is to be very black. If you don't know how black you are, you don't know how American you are" (Thompson 1995, 429). Social Death Bad The logic of social death replicates the violence of the middle passage – rejection is necessary to honor the dead Brown 2009 – professor of history and of African and African American Studies specializing in Atlantic Slavery (Vincent, “Social Death and Political Life in the Study of Slavery,” http://history.fas.harvard.edu/people/faculty/documents/brown-socialdeath.pdf) But this was not the emphasis of Patterson’s argument. As a result, those he has inspired have often conflated his exposition of slaveholding ideology with a description of the actual condition of the enslaved. Seen as a state of being, the concept social death is ultimately out of place in the political history of slavery. If studies of slavery would account for the outlooks and maneuvers of the enslaved as an important part of that history, scholars would do better to keep in view the struggle against alienation rather than alienation itself. To see social death as a productive peril entails a subtle but significant shift in perspective, from seeing slavery as a condition to viewing enslavement as a predicament, in which enslaved Africans and their descendants never ceased to pursue a politics of belonging, mourning, accounting, and regeneration. In part, the of usefulness of social death as a concept depends on what scholars of slavery seek to explain—black pathology or black politics, resistance or attempts to remake social life? For too long, debates about whether there were black families took precedence over discussions of how such families were formed; disputes about whether African culture had “survived” in the Americas overwhelmed discussions of how particular practices mediated slaves’ attempts to survive; and scholars felt compelled to prioritize the documentation of resistance over the examination of political strife in its myriad forms. But of course, because slaves’ social and political life grew directly out of the violence and dislocation of Atlantic slavery, these are false choices. And we may not even have to choose between tragic and romantic modes of storytelling, for history tinged with romance may offer the truest acknowledgment of the tragedy confronted by the enslaved: it took heroic effort for them to make social lives. There is romance, too, in the tragic fact that although scholars may never be able to give a satisfactory account of the human experience in slavery, they nevertheless continue to try. If scholars were to emphasize the efforts of the enslaved more than the condition of slavery, we might at least tell richer stories about how the endeavors of the weakest and most abject have at times reshaped the world. The history of their social and political lives lies between resistance and oblivion, not in the nature of their condition but in their continuous struggles to remake it. Those struggles are slavery’s bequest to us. This is an apriori question Brown 2009 – professor of history and of African and African American Studies specializing in Atlantic Slavery (Vincent, “Social Death and Political Life in the Study of Slavery,” http://history.fas.harvard.edu/people/faculty/documents/brown-socialdeath.pdf) African American history has grown from the kinds of people’s histories that emphasize a progressive struggle toward an ultimate victory over the tyranny of the powerful. Consequently, studies that privilege the perspectives of the enslaved depend in some measure on the chronicling of heroic achievement, and historians of slave culture and resistance have recently been accused of romanticizing their subject of study.42 Because these scholars have done so much to enhance our understanding of slave life beyond what was imaginable a scant few generations ago, the allegation may seem unfair. Nevertheless, some of the criticisms are helpful. As the historian Walter Johnson has argued, studies of slavery conducted within the terms of social history have often taken “agency,” or the self-willed activity of choice-making subjects, to be their starting point.43 Perhaps it was inevitable, then, that many historians would find themselves charged with depicting slave communities and cultures that were so resistant and so vibrant that the social relations of slavery must not have done much damage at all. Even if this particular accusation is a form of caricature, it contains an important insight, that the agency of the weak and the power of the strong have too often been viewed as simple opposites. The anthropologist David Scott is probably correct to suggest that for most scholars, the power of slaveholders and the damage wrought by slavery have been “pictured principally as a negative or limiting force” that “restricted, blocked, paralyzed, or deformed the transformative agency of the slave.”44 In this sense, scholars who have emphasized slavery’s corrosive power and those who stress resistance and resilience share the same assumption. However, the violent domination of slavery generated political action; it was not antithetical to it. If one sees power as productive and the fear of social death not as incapacity but as a generative force—a peril that motivated enslaved activity— a different image of slavery slides into view, one in which the object of slave politics is not simply the power of slaveholders, but the very terms and conditions of social existence. Black/White Binary Bad Utilizing politicized identities and categories such as Black or White results in endless violence – we should instead embrace a community-based politics of mere existence Enns 7 (Diane, Ph.D., Associate Professor of Philosophy and Peace Studies, McMaster University, “Political Life Before Identity”, Theory & Event 10:1, Project Muse) That we need to extricate ourselves not only from the worldview of the perpetrator, but also that of the victim, is the claim I turn to in the remainder of the paper. I will argue, as Mahmood Mamdani does, that once an economy of violence has evolved out of a binary logic of victim and perpetrator, political transformation cannot occur on the basis of identity .5 It is crucial then, that we engage with those thinkers who attempt to refuse the politicization of identities to begin with -- who articulate a sense of political life before it becomes named or names itself by identifying with this or that category. Arendt, Agamben and Fanon give us some clues as to how to reconceive politics and community in radical ways that disrupt the association between politics and identity, community and the common, sovereign power and mere existence. Several noteworthy points of resonance can be found especially between Agamben and Fanon; both of whom express an affirmation of life lived in an altered relation to politics and to other living beings. Suffering Narritives bad Narratives of suffering permanently relate subjectivity to victimhood and exclude anyone who does not fit the model of subordination Brown 96 (Wendy Brown is Professor of Women's Studies and Legal Studies, and is Co-Director of the Center for Cultural Studies at the University of California, Santa Cruz. The University of Chicago Law School Roundtable 1996,) If, taken together, the two passages from Foucault we have been consider- ing call feminists to account in our compulsion to put everything about women into discourse, they do not yet exhaust the phenomenon of being ensnared 'in the folds of our own discourses.' For if the problem I have been discussing is easy enough to see--indeed, largely familiar to those who track techniques of co-optation--at the level of legal and bureaucratic discourse, it is altogether more disquieting when it takes the form of regulatory discourse in our own sub- and counter-cultures of resistance . . . when confessing injury becomes that which attaches us to the injury, paralyzes us within it, and prevents us from seeking or even desiring a status other than injured. In an age of social identification through attributes marked as culturally significant--gender, race, sexuality, and so forth--confessional discourse, with its truth-bearing status in a post-epistemological universe, not only regulates the confessor in the name of freeing her as Foucault described that logic, but extends beyond the confess- ing individual to constitute a regulatory truth about the identity group. Confessed truths are assembled and deployed as "knowledge" about the group. This phenomenon would seem to undergird a range of recurring troubles in feminism, from the "real woman" rejoinder to post-structuralist deconstructions of her, to totalizing descriptions of women's experience that are the inadvertent effects of various kinds of survivor stories. Thus, for example, the porn star who feels miserably exploited, violated and humiliated in her work invariably monopolizes the truth about sex work; as the girl with math anxieties constitutes the truth about women and math; as eating disor- ders have become the truth about women and food; as sexual abuse and viola- tion occupy the knowledge terrain of women and sexuality. In other words, even as feminism aims to affirm diversity among women and women's ex- periences, confession as the site of production of truth and its convergence with feminist suspicion and deauthorization of truth from other sources tends to reinstate a unified discourse in which the story of greatest suffering becomes the true story of woman. (I think this constitutes part of the rhetorical power of MacKinnon's work; analytically, the epistemological superiority of confes- sion substitutes for the older, largely discredited charge of false consciousness). Thus, the adult who does not suffer from her or his childhood sexual experi- ence, the lesbian who does not feel shame, the woman of color who does not primarily or "correctly" identify with her marking as such--these figures are excluded as bonafide members of the categories which also claim them. Their status within these discourses is that of being "in denial," "passing" or being a "race traitor." This is the norm-making process in feminist traditions of "breaking silence" which, ironically, silence and exclude the very women these traditions mean to empower. (Is it surprising, when we think in this vein, that there is so little feminist writing on heterosexual pleasure?) But if these practices tacitly silence those whose experiences do not parallel those whose suffering is most marked (or whom the discourse produces as suffering markedly), they also condemn those whose sufferings they record to a permanent identification with that suffering. Here, we experience a temporal ensnaring in 'the folds of our own discourses' insofar as we identify ourselves in speech in a manner that condemns us to live in a present dominated by the past. But what if speech and silence aren't really opposites? Indeed, what if to speak incessantly of one's suffering is to silence the possibilities of overcoming it, of living beyond it, of identifying as something other than it? What if this incessant speech not only overwhelms the experiences of others, but alternative (unutterable? traumatized? fragmentary? inassimilable?) zones of one's own experience? Conversely, what if a certain modality of silence about one's suffering--and I am suggesting that we must consider modalities of silence as varied as modalities of speech and discourse--is to articulate a variety of possibilities not otherwise available to the sufferer? Sexton Indict Sexton epistemology is erroneous and prevents inter-sectional progress Spickard 9 (Paul, professor of history and Asian American studies at the University of California, Santa Barbara. “Amalgamation Schemes: Antiblackness and the Critique of Multiracialism (review)”, American Studies, Volume 50, Number 1/2, Spring/Summer 2009, pp. 125-127 – Project Muse) With Amalgamation Schemes, Jared Sexton is trying to stir up some controversy. He presents a facile, sophisticated, and theoretically informed intelligence, and he picks a fight from the start. His title suggests that the study of multiraciality is some kind of plot, or at the very least an illegitimate enterprise. His tone is angry and accusatory on every page. It is difficult to get to the grounds of his argument, because the cloud of invective is so thick, and because his writing is abstract, referential, and at key points vague. For Sexton (as for the Spencers and Gordon) race is about Blackness, in the United States and around the world. That is silly, for there are other racialized relationships. In the U.S., native peoples were racialized by European intruders in all the ways that Africans were, and more: they were nearly extinguished. To take just one example from many around the world, Han Chinese have racialized Tibetans historically in all the ways (including slavery) that Whites have racialized Blacks and Indians in the United States. So there is a problem with Sexton’s concept of race as Blackness. There is also a problem with his insistence on monoraciality. For Sexton and the others, one cannot be mixed or multiple; one must choose ever and only to be Black. I don’t have a problem with that as a political choice, but to insist that it is the only possibility flies in the face of a great deal of human experience, and it ignores the history of how modern racial ideas emerged. Wilderson Indict Wilderson is reductionist, and essentialist Ellison 11 (Mary, PhD, Fellow, African American and Indian American history and culture, Keele University, “Review of: Red, White and Black: cinema and the structure of US antagonisms” http://rac.sagepub.com/content/53/2/100.full.pdf+html?rss=1, Acc: 8/5/12) These are two illuminating, but frustratingly flawed books. Their approaches are different, although both frequently quote Frantz Fanon and Jacques Lacan. Frank Wilderson utilises the iconic theoreticians within the context of a study that concentrates on a conceptual ideology that, he claims, is based on a fusion of Marxism, feminism, postcolonialism and psychology. He uses a small number of independent films to illustrate his theories. Charlene Regester has a more practical framework. She divides her book into nine chapters devoted to individual female actors and then weaves her ideological concepts into these specific chapters. Both have a problem with clarity. Regester uses less complex language than Wilderson, but still manages to be obtuse at times. Wilderson starts from a position of using ontology and grammar as his main tools, but manages to consistently misuse or misappropriate terms like fungible or fungibility. Wilderson writes as an intelligent and challenging author, but is often frustrating. Although his language is complicated, his concepts are often oversimplified. He envisions every black person in film as a slave who is suffering from irreparable alienation from any meaningful sense of cultural identity. He believes that filmmakers, including black filmmakers, are victims of a deprivation of meaning that has been condensed by Jacques Lacan as a ‘wall of language’ as well as an inability to create a clear voice in the face of gratuitous violence. He cites Frantz Fanon, Orlando Patterson and Hortense Spiller as being among those theorists who effectively investigate the issues of black structural non-communicability. His own attempts to define ‘what is black?’, ‘a subject?’, ‘an object?’, ‘a slave?’, seem bound up with limiting preconceptions, and he evaluates neither blackness nor the ‘red’ that is part of his title in any truly meaningful way.