Εμφάνιση αναρτήσεων με ετικέτα Badiou. Εμφάνιση όλων των αναρτήσεων
Εμφάνιση αναρτήσεων με ετικέτα Badiou. Εμφάνιση όλων των αναρτήσεων

Παρασκευή 21 Φεβρουαρίου 2014

Διάλογος και αντιρρήσεις προς τον A.Badiou για το ζήτημα του κράτους του Israel

 
 
To ζήτημα της Εβραικής ταυτότητας , η ηθική νομιμοποίηση του κράτους του Ισραήλ συμπυκνώνουν μια σειρά από θεμελιακά ζητήματα της εποχής.Οποιαδήποτε διαπραγματεύση αναγκαστικά ενσωματώνει τις τρέχουσες ιδεολογικές, φιλοσοφικές, γεωπολιτικές, στρατηγικές συγκρούσεις.
 
Ακολουθούν δυο σχετικά κείμενα:
 
Το πρώτο είναι η αντίληψη του A.Badiou το οποίο θεμελιώνει μια "αριστερή" κριτική για το κράτος του Ισραήλ , η οποία βασίζεται στην συνολική κριτική του AB για τις "ταυτότητες".
 
Το δεύτερο είναι μια κριτική στον ΑΒ η οποία διακρίνει ασυνέπεια σε σχέση με το ίδιο το κριτήριο του.Προέρχεται από τον ιστότοπο Preserve Egalitarianism.
 
 
 
For the last couple of decades, the intellectual situation in France has been marked by countless discussions about the status to be accorded to the word "Jew" within the divisions of thought.

Undoubtedly, this has to do with the suspicion, based on some indubitable facts and some contrived ones, that anti-Semitism has made a "return". But had it ever disappeared? Or is it not rather crucial to see that a considerable change has taken place in the nature of anti-Semitism's forms, criteria and inscription in discourse over the last thirty years? Recall that in 1980, after the attack on the synagogue in rue Copernic, the prime minister in person, and in all calmness, distinguished between those victims who had gone to worship and the "innocent French" {sic} who were only passing by. Besides distinguishing between Jews and French with a kind of false concern, the good Raymond Barre appeared to mean that a Jew blindly targeted by an attack must be guilty in some way or other. People said it was a slip of the tongue. Instead, this amazing way of looking at the situation disclosed the subsistence of a racialist subconscious directly from the 1930s. Today, as regards the uses of the word Jew', such discriminatory confidence would be inconceivable at the level of the state, and one can only be unreservedly glad of it. Calculated anti-Semitic provocations and false discriminatory naivety, such as denials of the existence of gas chambers or the Nazi destruction of the European Jews, have today been taken in by, or confined to the extreme right. So, although it is quite incorrect to say that anti-Semitism has disappeared, it is fair to maintain that its conditions of possibility have altered, to the extent that it is no longer inscribed in any sort of natural discourse, as was the case during Raymond Barre's time. In this sense, Le Pen, in France, is the somewhat jaded custodian of a historical anti-Semitism that public opinion of the 1930s accepted as entirely commonplace. All in all, it may well be that this new sensitivity to anti-Semitic acts and inscriptions is a basic component of the diagnosis that anti- Semitism has made a 'return'. Thus this return might for a large part be simply an effect of a significant and favorable lowering of the threshold at which public opinion no longer tolerates this sort of racialist provocation.

Below, I shall return to the issue of the birth of a new type of anti-Semitism, one articulated on conflicts in the Middle East and the presence, in France, of large minorities of workers of African extraction and of Muslim persuasion. For now, suffice it to say that the existence of this type of anti-Semitism is not in doubt, and that the zeal with which some deny its existence - generally in the name of supporting the Palestinians or the working-class minorities in France - is extremely harmful. That being the case, it doesn't seem to me that the data, which are freely available, are such that they justify raising a full alert, although it should be clear that, on such questions, the imperative of vigilance admits of no interruption.

What constitutes the point of departure for the present collection, [1] what has sparked its existence, is not the obviousness of anti-Semitisms, old and new. It is a debate with further-reaching consequences, or rather a debate that is to be settled beforehand, including by those who agree that the slightest anti-Semitic allusion is not to be tolerated. Indeed, what is at issue is to know whether or not, in the general field of public intellectual discussion, the word "Jew" constitutes an exceptional signifier, such that it would be legitimate to make it play the role of a final, or even sacred, signifier. It is evident that tackling the eradication of forms of anti-Semitic consciousness is done differently, and with a different subjectivity, depending on whether we consider these forms of consciousness to be essentially different to other forms of racial discrimination (e.g. to anti-Arab sentiments or to the segregating of blacks to their communitarian activities); or whether - given certainly distinct and irreducible historicities - we consider that all forms of racist consciousness alike call for the same egalitarian and universalist reaction. Further, this shared repugnance of anti- Semitism must be distinguished from a certain philo-Semitism which claims not only that attacking Jews as such amounts to criminal baseness but that the word "Jew", and the community claiming to stand for it, must be placed in a paradigmatic position with respect to the field of values, cultural hierarchies, and in evaluating the politics of states.

Suffice it to say that, regarding the question of old and new anti-Semitisms and the process of eradicating them, there are two conflicting approaches, where what is at issue is to know what a contemporary universalism might consist in and whether it is compatible with any kind of nominal or communitarian transcendence.

Today it is evident that a strong intellectual current, featuring bestselling publications and considerable media impact, indeed maintains that the fate of the word "Jew" lies in its communitarian transcendence, in such a way that this destiny cannot be rendered commensurable with those of other names that, within the registers of ideology, or of politics, or even of philosophy, have been subject to conflicting assessments.

The basic argumentation, of course, refers to the extermination of European Jews by the Nazis and their accomplices. In the victim ideology that constitutes the campaign artillery of contemporary moralism, this unprecedented extermination is held to be paradigmatic. In and of itself the extermination would underpin the political, legal and moral necessity to hold the word Jew above all usual handling of identity predicates and to give it some kind of nominal sacralization. The progressive imposition of the word Shoah to designate what its most eminent historian, Raul Hilberg, named, with sober precision, "the destruction of the Europe an Jews" can be taken as a verbal stage of this sacralizing of victims. By a remarkable irony, one thereby comes to the point of applying to the name "Jew" a claim that the Christians originally directed against the Jews themselves, which was that "Christ" was a worthier name than all others. Today it is not uncommon to read that "Jew" is indeed a name beyond ordinary names. And it seems to be presumed that, like an inverted original sin, the grace of having been an incomparable victim can be passed down not only to descendants and to the descendants of descendants but to all who come under the predicate in question, be they heads of state or armies engaging in the severe oppression of those whose lands they have confiscated.

Another approach to this type of fictive transcendence is historical. It claims to show that the Jewish question' has defined Europe since the Enlightenment era, such that there would be a criminal continuity between the idea Europe has of itself and the Nazi extermination, which is presented as the 'final solution' to the problem. Further, there would be a basic continuity between the extermination and European hostility to the State of Israel, the prime evidence for which would be the constant support - in my view really inconsistent, but let's leave that aside - the European Community gives to the Palestinians. Europe would be enraged by the fact that the "final solution" was defeated in the last act by the sudden appearance, on the balance-sheet of the war, of a Jewish state. As a result, there should be a legitimate distrust of everything Arab, for in starting out from support for the Palestinians we soon come to an undermining of the State of Israel, then from that undermining we come to anti-Semitism, and from this anti-Semitism to extermination - the logic, in short, has to be good.

I would like as far as possible to document a position utterly irreconcilable with the above assertions I will submit a position that is avowedly my own. On such issues, and taking account of the passions that inevitably emerge with every dispute over the power of a collective nomination, it is better to state straight away that one is only speaking for oneself, or, more precisely, in one's own name.

Obviously, the key point is that I cannot accept in any way the victim ideology. I clearly explained my position on this point in my little book Ethics in 1999. That the Nazis and their accomplices exterminated millions of people they called Jews does not to my mind lend any new legitimacy to the identity predicate in question. Of course, for those who, generally for religious reasons, have maintained that this predicate registers a communitarian alliance with the archetypical transcendence of the Other, it is natural to think that Nazi atrocities work in some way to validate in a terrible and striking paradox the election of the "people" that this predicate, so they say, gathers together. Furthermore, it would be necessary to explain how and why the Nazi predicate Jew', such as it was used to organize separation, then deportation and death, coincides with the subjective predicate under which the alliance is sealed. But for anyone who does not enter into the religious fable in question, the extermination brings to hear on the Nazis a judgement that is absolute and without right of appeal, without in any way establishing any supplementary value for the victims, other than a profound compassion. In passing, I submit that veritable compassion does not concern itself in the slightest with the predicates in the name of which the atrocity was committed. As such, it is all the more wrong-headed to think that an atrocity confers a surplus value on a predicate. Neither can an atrocity work to provide any kind of special respect to anybody who today expects to take shelter under such a predicate and demand exceptional status. Instead, from those limitless massacres, we should draw the conclusion that every declamatory introduction of communitarian predicates in the ideological, political or state field, whether criminalizing or sanctifying, leads to the worst.


Let me add something of a more affective note. It is wholly intolerable to be accused of anti-Semitism by anyone for the sole reason that, from the tact of the extermination, one does not conclude as to the predicate "Jew" and its religious and communitarian dimension that it receive some singular valorization - a transcendent annunciation! - nor that Israeli exactions, whose colonial nature is patent and banal, be specially tolerated. I propose that nobody any longer accept, publicly or privately, this type of political blackmail.

An abstract variation of my position consists in pointing out that, from the apostle Paul to Trotsky, including Spinoza, Marx and Freud, Jewish communitarianism has only underpinned creative universalism in so far as there have been new points of rupture with it. It is clear that today's equivalent of Paul's religious rupture with established Judaism, of Spinoza's rationalist rupture with the Synagogue, or of Marx's political rupture with the bourgeois integration of a part of his community of origin, is a subjective rupture with the State of Israel, not with its empirical existence, which is neither more nor less impure than that of all states, but with its exclusive identitarian claim to be a Jewish state, and with the way it draws incessant privileges from this claim, especially when it comes to trampling underfoot what serves us as international law. Truly contemporary states or countries are always cosmopolitan, perfectly indistinct in their identitarian configuration. They assume the total contingency of their historical constitution, and regard the latter as valid only on condition that it does not fall under any racialist, religious, or more generally "cultural", predicate. Indeed, the last time an established state in France believed it should call itself tile "French state" was under Pétain and the German occupation. The Islamic states are certainly no more progressive as models than the various versions of the 'Arab nation' were. Everyone agrees, it seems, on the point that the Taliban do not embody the path of modernity for Afghanistan. A possible of modern democracy then, is that it count everyone, without factoring in predicates. As the Organisation Politique says in relation to France's reactionary laws against undocumented workers; "Whoever is here is from here." There is no acceptable reason to exempt the State of Israel from that rule. The claim is sometimes made that this state is the only 'democratic' state in the region. But the fact that this state presents itself as a Jewish state is directly contradictory. We can say on this point that Israel is a country whose self-representation is still archaic.

Taking a different approach, I shall generalize the claim. I shall maintain that the intrusion of any identity predicate into a central role for the determination of a politics leads to disaster. This should be as I've already said, the real lesson to be drawn from Nazism. Since it was above all the Nazis who, before anyone else, and with a rare zeal for following through, drew all the consequences from making the signifier "Jewish" into a radical exception - it was, after all, the only way that they could give some sort of consistency, in their industrial massacre, to the symmetrical predication "Aryan", the particular vacuity of which obsessed them.

A more immediately relevant consequence is that the signifier "Palestinian" or "Arab" should not be glorified any more than is permitted for the signifier 'Jew'. As a result, the legitimate solution to the Middle East conflict is not the dreadful institution of two barbed-wire states. The solution is the creation of a secular and democratic Palestine, one subtracted from all predicates, and which, in the school of Paul who declared that, in view of the universal, "there is no longer Jew nor Greek" and that "circumcision is nothing, and uncircumcision is nothing" - would show that it is perfectly possible to create a place in these lands where, from a political point of view and regardless of the apolitical continuity of customs, there is "neither Arab nor Jew". This will undoubtedly demand a regional Mandela.

Lastly, there is no question of tolerating the anti-Jewish diatribes, uttered in the name of colonial guilt and the rights of Palestinians, that circulate in a number of organizations and institutions that are more or less dependent on identitarian words such as "Arab", "Muslim", "Islam"... This anti-Semitism could not be passed off with give-and-take for a progressivism that settles for little. Besides, we already know the story. At the end of the nineteenth century in France, certain "Marxist" worker organizations, notably of the school of Jules Guesde, saw nothing wrong with the vulgar anti-Semitism that was very widespread at the time. They thought that anti-Semitic affairs, and notably the Dreyfus affair, did not concern the working class, and that to engage in them would distract from the principal contradiction between bourgeoisie and proletarians. But it soon became obvious what fuelled this concern to stick to the "principal contradiction": in 1914, Jules Guesde, in the name of narrow-minded nationalism and a hatred of the Boches entered into the sacred union that organized the military butchery. One dialectic for another, it will be recalled that a correct treatment of the principal contradiction most often consists in publicly assuming responsibility for managing a "secondary" contradiction. Today, some among us are visibly tempted, in the name of the principal character of the contradiction between North and South, or between Arab peoples and American imperialism, to find all sorts of excuses for transforming (legitimate) opposition to the activities of the State of Israel into open and frank anti-Semitism, which is intolerable, and should not he tolerated. All the less so as the actions of progressive Israelis, who constantly show proof of a rare courage, have been crucial to advancing the situation in Palestine.

It's true enough that, to anyone wanting to eradicate such circumstantial anti-Semitism, it would be helpful if the State of Israel were no longer referred to as the "Jewish state", and it everywhere it was agreed that a strict separation should be maintained between, on the one hand, religious, customary and private uses of an identity predicate - the words "Arab" and "Jew" as much as "French" and, on the other, its political usages, which are always harmful.







The Word "Jew" and the Sycophant [2]

One could resist responding. One ought not to, perhaps. Or else, one could respond by looking at things from a bird's-eye view, as a very small symptom of the situation into which France has lapsed in recent times. Circonstances 3 is a book for which Cécile Winter and I alone take responsibility. Yet the violence of the reaction provoked by this book must he placed in its political context. The fact is that the situation in France today is dominated by an unprecedented reactionary offensive against workers of foreign origin, the adolescents of housing estates, children's schooling, the health of the poorest and weakest, women with different customs, workers' hostels, the mentally ill... Every day we have to put up with reading that absolutely criminal legislative measures are being concocted. 'Sarkozy' is the name of a rampant process by which, step by step, and with violence, entire sections of the population are relegated to a status deprived of rights, and are offered up to the police as internal enemies. In this context, it is important to ask the following question: what is the desire of the petty faction that is the self-proclaimed proprietor of the word "Jew" and its usages? What does it hope to achieve when, bolstered by the tripod of the Shoah the State of Israel and the Talmudic Tradition - the SIT - it stigmatizes and exposes to public contempt anyone who contend that it is, in all rigor, possible to subscribe to a universalist and egalitarian sense of this word? I will submit, then, that this is an extremist faction that harbors the same political intent as that dominating French parliamentarism today, one that is oriented towards identifying, separating off and persecuting people that the state itself has constituted as the enemies internal to the consensus. The petty group of which we speak forms the intellectual extreme right wing of this deadly orientation, that is, in so far as it takes a subjective form that, as a rule, is more negative (the anti-Palestinian, anti-Arab element is essential) than positive; in so far as its intellectual mechanism is inevitably obscurantist (primacy of particularities, restricted nationalism, racism, religiosity without God); and in so far as its polemical practices belong to the various established genres of senseless repression. Natacha Michel has already brought to my attention the fact that the procedures of this petty faction accumulate all the known historical genres of public denunciation. Engaging in juridical and statist denunciation, they demand that an end be put to our 'impunity'. Engaging in MacCarthyist-type denunciation, they say we are totalitarian Bolsheviks. Engaging in a latter-day Soviet-style denunciation, they diagnose the manifestation of various psychoses in our writings. Natacha Michel remarks, with a sad humor, 'On all sides, I have passed into the other camp.' Tins accumulation is significant; it leads one to wonder what it is this faction is protecting, what it so fears losing whenever its monopoly over the usage, normativity and correlative associations of the word 'Jew' is undermined.

I will make the hypothesis that the aggressive promotion of the triplet Shoah - Israel - Tradition, or SIT, as the only acceptable content of the word 'Jew', and the ignorant, stubborn, personalized violence directed against anybody who proposes a different mode of signification and circulation of the word, has to do with protecting a power: the power - very useful to the powers-that-be - of managing to subjugate this word to totally anti-working- class political and statist determinations, i.e., to a system of judicial and police control to which, little by little, everything that shows itself to be heterogeneous to the established consensus is subjugated, whether or not that heterogeneous element is already localized in organizations and actions, or is as yet only at the stage of the circulation of ideas. Further, that, in the constant use of a word that has been reduced to a sort of power of intimidation, it boils down to rallying the largest possible number of intellectuals in the world to the camp led by the Americans. In sum, it is about making the word "Jew" - assumed lo be untouchable because of its Shoah component; statist and pro-American because of its "Israeli" component; and vaguely spiritual because of its "Tradition" component - into the ideological shield and the intellectual referent of a new stage in the counter-revolution mat has been led in France by the nouveaux philosophes since the end of the 1970s, a stage that is now truly oppositional and supported by the services of state. By protecting their monopoly over the word 'Jew', it is hoped to eradicate for ever the very possibility of political universalism, of an equality of all particularist predicates, of a politics practiced by people who are here, irrespective of their origin. As soon as one threatens the stranglehold that the SIT triplet has over the destiny of the word "Jew" in language, in thought, and in historical life, as soon as one revives this word on the side of universal singularity and political emancipation, it constitutes a mortal attack on the faction's power to cause harm.

Once one has the measure of this attempt, one is tempted to disregard the satirical pamphlets of this or that mediocre employee of this faction. The extreme right has always utilized low-level informers in its organization, adventurers in writing who have had to run with the, hare and hunt with the hounds.

I wrote Circonstances 3 as I said before at my own risk, as one must nowadays, because I am disconcerted by seeing the word "Jew" associated - by intellectuals whose feebleness exasperates and misleads with the support that a large part of public opinion lends to odious policies. I know better, a thousand times better than the extremist faction, of the connection between the word "Jew" and the immense history of universal truths. In nullifying all the substantialist and racialist interpretations of it, in liberating it from any necessary connection to religious customs, in giving it a contemporary vivacity independent of fictitious narratives, in de-linking it from a slate which sticks it in the mud of imperial particularities; in sum, in liberating the word "Jew" from the triplet SIT, to which this faction tries to reduce it, I associate myself amicably with the work undertaken by many others, whether or not they lay claim to the predicate "Jew" by which a new force of the word can and will emerge. For the moment, 1 see it hardened, stunted, its flag moth-eaten by the forces of reaction. My profound hope is, as firmly slated in Circonstances 3, notably with respect to Udi Aloni's film Local Angel, that this word shall be reanimated, reinvented, revived in a cycle of truth-procedures. And first of all, without doubt, in Israel, where the implementation of a state or a country that is shared by all the people living there, whatever their customary predicates might be, would constitute the major landmark of such a revival.

Notes

[1] This collection was published as Circonstances 3: Portées du mot "juif", Paris: Leo Schéer, 2005.

[2] The complete version of this article of which the above is but an excerpt, appeared in Le monde on 02/02/06. It was written in response to Eric Marty"s "Alain Badiou: le futur d'une négation," in Les temps modernes, 12/05-01/06. A complete version of the article in English, translated by Steve Corcoran, appears in Badiou's Polemics, New York: Verso, 2006.

Badiou, Rosenzweig and the word “Jew”

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Mostly a thinking out loud post based on some visceral reactions, really. I have heard the charge of antisemitism directed at both Badiou and Zizek for sometime now, and while I’m not completely unsympathetic to such claims, they do tend to misinterpret and simplify both thinkers, which of course, have the effect of missing the mark completely. Now, in particular, with regards to Badiou and the term “Jew,” this seems to me to be an old problem of particularism vs universalism rather than the typical knee jerk reactions towards the state of Israel (see here and here). In this sense, it’s hard not to think of Isaac Deutscher, who remarked in a speech he gave to the World Jewish Congress in 1958:
Religion? I am an atheist. Jewish nationalism? I am an internationalist. In neither sense am I therefore a Jew. I am, however, a Jew by force of my unconditional solidarity with the persecuted and exterminated. I am a Jew because I feel the pulse of Jewish history; because I should like to do all I can to assure the real, not spurious, security and self-respect of the Jews.
Now because I’m without shame, here’s my original comment pertaining to the above passage. This is a very interesting response, and really, a very Jewish one. This begs a number of questions: Is it ever possible to reconcile ethnic fidelities with a commitment to “universal human emancipation? ” Is the only option to simply choose sides, that is, either a nationalist (particularism) or a “non-Jewish Jew” (universalism/cosmpolitanism)? But here’s the thing, if Judaism is a particular community/ethnicity/religion with a universal aims/goals/ramifications (e.g. a light unto the nations) to begin with then there is no choice to be made, the “Jew” as such would not have to choose either/or, but then again, perhaps I’m just not very dogmatic.
I still have the same response, but I often find myself feeling somewhat uncomfortable when I hear Badiou discussing these issues. In an article I dug up on lacan.com, “The Uses of the Word “Jew,”” Badiou writes this:
An abstract variation of my position consists in pointing out that, from the apostle Paul to Trotsky, including Spinoza, Marx and Freud, Jewish communitarianism has only underpinned creative universalism in so far as there have been new points of rupture with it. It is clear that today’s equivalent of Paul’s religious rupture with established Judaism, of Spinoza’s rationalist rupture with the Synagogue, or of Marx’s political rupture with the bourgeois integration of a part of his community of origin, is a subjective rupture with the State of Israel, not with its empirical existence, which is neither more nor less impure than that of all states, but with its exclusive identitarian claim to be a Jewish state, and with the way it draws incessant privileges from this claim, especially when it comes to trampling underfoot what serves us as international law.
But we need to back up a bit. Here’s an excerpt from the third paragraph of the article:
…what is at issue is to know whether or not, in the general field of public intellectual discussion, the word “Jew” constitutes an exceptional signifier, such that it would be legitimate to make it play the role of a final, or even sacred, signifier. It is evident that tackling the eradication of forms of anti-Semitic consciousness is done differently, and with a different subjectivity, depending on whether we consider these forms of consciousness to be essentially different to other forms of racial discrimination (e.g. to anti-Arab sentiments or to the segregating of blacks to their communitarian activities); or whether – given certainly distinct and irreducible historicities – we consider that all forms of racist consciousness alike call for the same egalitarian and universalist reaction. Further, this shared repugnance of anti- Semitism must be distinguished from a certain philo-Semitism which claims not only that attacking Jews as such amounts to criminal baseness but that the word “Jew”, and the community claiming to stand for it, must be placed in a paradigmatic position with respect to the field of values, cultural hierarchies, and in evaluating the politics of states.
Badiou spends some time detailing with victim ideology (see Ethics for a more in depth analysis):
…the fate of the word “Jew” lies in its communitarian transcendence, in such a way that this destiny cannot be rendered commensurable with those of other names that, within the registers of ideology, or of politics, or even of philosophy, have been subject to conflicting assessments. The basic argumentation, of course, refers to the extermination of European Jews by the Nazis and their accomplices. In the victim ideology that constitutes the campaign artillery of contemporary moralism, this unprecedented extermination is held to be paradigmatic. In and of itself the extermination would underpin the political, legal and moral necessity to hold the word Jew above all usual handling of identity predicates and to give it some kind of nominal sacralization. The progressive imposition of the word Shoah to designate what its most eminent historian, Raul Hilberg, named, with sober precision, “the destruction of the Europe an Jews” can be taken as a verbal stage of this sacralizing of victims. By a remarkable irony, one thereby comes to the point of applying to the name “Jew” a claim that the Christians originally directed against the Jews themselves, which was that “Christ” was a worthier name than all others. Today it is not uncommon to read that “Jew” is indeed a name beyond ordinary names. And it seems to be presumed that, like an inverted original sin, the grace of having been an incomparable victim can be passed down not only to descendants and to the descendants of descendants but to all who come under the predicate in question, be they heads of state or armies engaging in the severe oppression of those whose lands they have confiscated.
And here is Badiou–with a rather silly play on words–detailing another variation of this ideology:
It claims to show that the Jewish question’ has defined Europe since the Enlightenment era, such that there would be a criminal continuity between the idea Europe has of itself and the Nazi extermination, which is presented as the ‘final solution’ to the problem.
Ok. So Badiou is seeking to depart from this type of logic and posits a better approach:
I shall maintain that the intrusion of any identity predicate into a central role for the determination of a politics leads to disaster.
Badiou’s real polemic is directed towards the “petty faction” that is the “self-proclaimed proprietor of the word “Jew” and its usage” who rest their claims on a triad Badiou (again silliness) names “SIT,” that is, the Shoah, the State of Israel, and the Talmudic tradition. I actually think that the phrase “Talmudic tradition” Badiou uses without explanation is rather problematic, at best. I have no real idea what he means by it, what Badiou thinks it means, it’s just given as if these all mean one thing at all times. Now, to his credit Badiou has singled out “extremist” and right-wing factions that draw upon this trifecta to justify say, the aggression of the IDF, or I would say, more accurately, those settlers who actively fought the IDF when they came to evacuate all the settlements in the occupied territories last year or so. So, fine. In this context Badiou is able to claim:
I will make the hypothesis that the aggressive promotion of the triplet Shoah – Israel – Tradition, or SIT, as the only acceptable content of the word ‘Jew’, and the ignorant, stubborn, personalized violence directed against anybody who proposes a different mode of signification and circulation of the word, has to do with protecting a power: the power – very useful to the powers-that-be – of managing to subjugate this word to totally anti-working- class political and statist determinations, i.e., to a system of judicial and police control to which, little by little, everything that shows itself to be heterogeneous to the established consensus is subjugated, whether or not that heterogeneous element is already localized in organizations and actions, or is as yet only at the stage of the circulation of ideas. Further, that, in the constant use of a word that has been reduced to a sort of power of intimidation, it boils down to rallying the largest possible number of intellectuals in the world to the camp led by the Americans. In sum, it is about making the word “Jew” – assumed lo be untouchable because of its Shoah component; statist and pro-American because of its “Israeli” component; and vaguely spiritual because of its “Tradition” component – into the ideological shield and the intellectual referent of a new stage in the counter-revolution mat has been led in France by the nouveaux philosophes since the end of the 1970s, a stage that is now truly oppositional and supported by the services of state.
Now, I’m not going to argue against the logic or even accuracy of Badiou’s claim here. It’s unfortunate that there is this tendency. However, this starts to make me a bit uncomfortable:
By protecting their monopoly over the word ‘Jew’, it is hoped to eradicate for ever the very possibility of political universalism, of an equality of all particularist predicates, of a politics practiced by people who are here, irrespective of their origin. As soon as one threatens the stranglehold that the SIT triplet has over the destiny of the word “Jew” in language, in thought, and in historical life, as soon as one revives this word on the side of universal singularity and political emancipation, it constitutes a mortal attack on the faction’s power to cause harm.
While again, Badiou may be right, it smacks of the same problem Jews have faced throughout history, viz., the question of being a particular community with universal aims. Now, this got me thinking of some passages from Franz Rosenzweig’s Star of Redemption. These passages are found in the final part of the text. In the Star, Roseznweig argues that reality has three levels, the middle level is experience, which is described in Part 2, the ground of experience, if you will, are the primordial elements that are accessible only to reflective thought (Part I). Finally, the third part paints a picture seemingly beyond experience (only be inescapably involving it) of an ontology, which is derived from casting it through the topos of the sociology of religious life. Put differently, the progressive nature of the text moves from a mathematical system to a grammatical system to the organization of social signifiers (e.g. the form and content of the religious life of the congregation). The mathematical system in part I is inverted in the third part, this is to say that the sign of the collectivity of religious life is given to experience while the referent (the world of redemption) is outside of reality and is lived in anticipation, it is only signified through an intercession by the form of the collective religious life. Anyhow, here are the passages
There is only one community in which such a linked sequence of everlasting life goes from grandfather to grandson, only one which cannot utter the “we” of its unity without hearing deep within a voice that adds “are eternal”. It must be a blood-community, because only blood gives present warrant to the hope for a future (299, Hallo edition).
And later on:
For we have long ago been robbed of all the things in which the peoples of the world are rooted. For us, land and language, custom and law, have long left the circle of the living and have been raised to the rung of holiness. But we are still living, and live in eternity. Our life is no longer meshed with anything outside our selves. We have struck root in ourselves. We do not root in earth and so we are eternal wanderers, but deeply rooted in our own body and blood. And it is this rooting in ourselves and in nothing but ourselves, that vouchsafes eternity (305, Hallo edition).
The blood community does not connote an ethnic community and it always seemed to me that it is certainly meant symbolically and most likely, ontologically (given its intimate ties to temporality and time). For Rosenzweig, Judaism is the singular We that always already lives with God. The “people of Israel” are the temporal dwelling place for eternity. Outside of this “We” past and future are experienced as being divorced from each other. In Judaism, they “grow into one.” Rosenzweig outlines the philosophical ground for his claim that Jews alone are equipped to live within the experience of redemption, viz., “earthly eternity: and the collectivity of experience.” Community, for Rosenzweig, must hold onto neither land or politics, but somehow has to create a sense of eternity within itself. This yearning for ultimacy is folded into/within the horizon. So, the temporal community generates its own time and it indeed, self-grounding. Would Badiou not have a problem with this type of communitarian identity?
Here, I suspect is Badiou’s objection. For Rosenzweig, the Jews disassociation from actual power politics makes them a “community of fate” (322ff). Because of the blood community the Jews have a special temporality. All of this is to say this: through blood a community may will itself into a mode of redemption which is a mode of life, Rosenzweig calls this the “will to People.” The doubling of blood connotes temporality without territorial roots, it is a rooted unrootedness. On the other hand, blood generates permanence; much like law and scripture are eternally present. Jewish identity displays “rootededness in one’s own self” (305).
Yet, it would be good to recall that earlier Rosenzweig spent a good deal of time showing how the We banishes the You, so given Rosenzweig’s insistence on the address of the Psalms, it seems to me that we could follow Rosenzweig back into a theologically based theory of Jewish difference, which is manifested materially as exile. Rosenzweig’s non-liberalism, non (not anti) Zionism expresses the very same disillusionment with liberal assimilationist ideals that had driven many of his contemporaries into national political discources.
Finally, for Rosenzweig, to be fully who we are qua Jews, exile is a pre-requisite. It comprises the continual and necessary condition of Jewish being. The Jewish people are a remnant among the nations (404). Jews constitute the fire, the point, at the center of the star. Jewish exile is the temporal eternity of the persecuted remnant. Redemption is only possible in exile. Why would Badiou not take this tack?
Now, for Badiou, universalism is emancipatory. Behind this lurks a more rigorous philosophical claim is that in an event the (ethical) subject identifies the void of the situation as belonging universally within that situation. That is to say, conditioning the whole of it. Truth, according to Badiou, is always universal. Simply, a truth must be true for all. In a fake event, like the one claimed by the Nazis, the universality of the void is simply refused and the void becomes pushed onto an exceptional set of particular elements. In the idiotic logic of the Nazis the Jews filled this function and were then, quite literally (and violently) “voided” to rather deceptively assert “plenitude” instead of a void in a situation that determined that German Jews were nothing less than exceptions to the German Volk.
Given this, and what I’ve noted above, Badiou discerns a moral excess or prestige that can’t be severed from the word “Jew.” Moreover, because it refers to the suffering of Jews in the Holocaust, it participates (and here I would add it risks participating, in my view) in that very same logic of exclusion: that is, setting apart a subset of elements as exceptional and subject to its own moral “truthiness.”
Ok, all of this said. I find it hard to believe Badiou is in any way trying to minimize or make light of suffering. Nor do I read him as carrying out a critique of any sort of collective action in aimed towards justice. I’m not sure Badiou is providing ammunition for those who don’t believe in the state of Israel. That is, he doesn’t seem to be problematizing or arguing against the rights of Jewish people to live in Israel. I do take him to be saying something along these lines: violence, brutality and oppression are often nothing more than banal types of cruelties lurking behind the notions of good and evil, and as such, hold little, if any, relation to an event that transcends the situation. For Badiou, any actual political “good” is manifested out from a universalist “confession” of the Real of a “situational void,” and not a particularist transference of the void. Hence the now familiar (near) banality associated with Badiou: politics must be born from an ethical fidelity to a singular truth that manages to addresses the state of the situation and generate something novel with regards to that situation. Hence the conclusion to “Uses of the word “Jew:”
…because I am disconcerted by seeing the word “Jew” associated – by intellectuals whose feebleness exasperates and misleads with the support that a large part of public opinion lends to odious policies. I know better, a thousand times better than the extremist faction, of the connection between the word “Jew” and the immense history of universal truths. In nullifying all the substantialist and racialist interpretations of it, in liberating it from any necessary connection to religious customs, in giving it a contemporary vivacity independent of fictitious narratives, in de-linking it from a slate which sticks it in the mud of imperial particularities; in sum, in liberating the word “Jew” from the triplet SIT, to which this faction tries to reduce it, I associate myself amicably with the work undertaken by many others, whether or not they lay claim to the predicate “Jew” by which a new force of the word can and will emerge.
Ok, but my question: how is this at all helpful? I’ll be the first to agree that politics needs to be severed from religion, but Badiou’s “attack” on the locution “Jewish State” makes me a bit uncomfortable. Is it as simple as refusing the identity between “Jew” and “Israeli?” If that’s the case, Badiou is offering nothing particularly interesting here. And moreover, how does one rid the yucky components or associations of any word? Then again, to be suspicious, one might even ask why Badiou cares so much about this word “Jew” and the state of Israel? Certainly, there are other injustices out there too? I don’t know, but this smacks of the same type of frustration Luther had in his vitriol against the Jews when he found out they wouldn’t listen to him and convert…
 

Σάββατο 25 Μαΐου 2013

Christian Communists, Islamic Anarchists?

Πηγή: nakedpunch.


In Part 1 of this article we argued that Slavoj Žižek and Alain Badiou's account of the foundation of Communist universalism in the event of Christianity signals a number of inconsistencies immanent to their respective ontologies (Coombs 2009). For Žižek it appears difficult to reconcile his touted open interpretation of Hegel with the ontological significance he accords to Christianity; whereas for Badiou, the 'foundation of universalism' attributed to St. Paul's militant 'truth procedure' of universalising the Christian faith and effecting a split with Judaism appears to contradict his ontology of inconsistent multiplicity, which denies historical or evental foundations. Still, this critique only takes us so far in undermining the 'Christian hegemony' of a certain school of 'post-modern' Communist theory. Instead, if we can demonstrate that even the conditions by which they violate their own systems are present elsewhere, then the essentialist platform of 'Paulian materialism' and its exclusivist foundations come to look even more shaky -- shaky to the point of collapse. These conditions we can also find in Islam.1



Firstly, however, it is important to differentiate our argument from Ian Almond's The New Orientalists (2007) -- the most prescient scholarship on the matter. Because although Almond manages to locate the spectre of Islam in post-modern philosophy from Nietzsche to Foucault, the pre-suppositions of his critique means it has the curious feature of bouncing back off his targets in the manner of an echo chamber. Unlike Edward Said's polemic against the colonial representation and construction of the Orient in his canonicalOrientalism (1979), there is a post-modern twist in Almond's study that even Alain Badiou might find satisfying. What Almond traces is not so much the brutal violence of representation, but a lineage of absence, or 'ghostly demarcations', by which Islam asserts itself in the interstices and footnotes of post-modern philosophy. None of the philosophers in his study (we except here the authors Orhan Pamuk, Salman Rushie and Jorge Luis Borges) have ever made explicit claims to scholarship on Islam and have only discussed the religion at those points where it has intersected with 'Western affairs.' That includes Michel Foucault's fascination with Shiism in his reportage on the Iranian revolution; the simulacrum of Islam Jean Baudrillard found refracted in the Gulf War; and Slavoj Žižek's passing remarks on the religion in connection with 9/11 and the Iraq War. In regard to his chapter on Žižek, Almond writes "Islam is conspicuous by its absence" (ibid: 177) as well as being a "casualty of this 'other' Eurocentrism of Žižek's -- the semantic denial of any ontological depth or even tangibility to the marginalized subject" (ibid: 183).



Unfortunately, this tension in Almond's critique never allows it to penetrate deeper than a genealogy of marginality. For the absence of the representation of Islam in Žižek's work cannot at the same time be a great violence against it. And furthermore, when Almond argues that "in Žižek's work, if we scratch the skin of a Muslim, sooner or later we find a socialist underneath" this is because of Žižek's "considerations on the Jamesonian concept of the 'vanishing mediator' -- the mechanism by which a belief may facilitate the emergence of another belief-system, and render itself obsolete in the process" (ibid: 191) -- to which Žižek might simply reply: 'exactly'! Almond thus excoriates Žižek on the basis of a series of a priori assertions -- i.e. the Eurocentrism of Hegelian philosophy and Lacanian psychoanalysis etc. -- and for the resulting lack of respect for the true Otherness of Islam; whilst at the same time bemoaning the absence of this Otherness in Žižek's representations of religions which are not Other to him. In other words, Almond's critique remains nested in the very ideology of multicultural inclusion and non-judgemental tolerance that Žižek has spent so much theoretical energy attempting to combat.



To draw a sharp contrast, what we are aiming for here is a different critique to Almond's in that we share many of the same principles as Badiou and Žižek, but rather see their Christian essentialism as a deviation from the tenets of their own systems, not just as an expression of their hopelessly Eurocentric gaze on the world. In Part 1of the article we saw the close affiliation of Badiou and Žižek's valorisation of Christianity's universalism with Hegel's exaltation of the 'Absolute religion' and for our purpose here again Hegel will be an important touch-point. The problem with Hegel we will explore is not necessarily the provincialism of his positioning of Islam under the 'Germanic World'; but rather, like in Badiou and Zizek's fleeting representations of Islam, the problem lies in Hegel's inability to see beyond the abstract idea of Islam to its actual particularities. But it is only by taking Hegel at his word that we can see the immanent inadequacy of his schematisation of Islam as a religion of purely abstract universality. Not because it represents an unacceptably malign value judgement (such a criticism would remain within the realm of non-judgemental multiculturalism and respect for Otherness); rather because the particular details of Islam actually contradict Hegel's judgement, even if we were to accept the truth of his criteria of judgement. This particularity is most notably expressed in the split between Sunni and Shia and what these splits have meant in practicefor the politics and historicity of the religion. Further, once we see that the fact of this split forecloses any essentialist philosophical identity to Islam we also have the material by which to undermine any essentialist reading of Christianity at the foundation of universalism.



To strengthen the case, in the second part of this article, we examine two of the key ideologues of the Iranian revolution: Ayatollah Morteza Motahhari and Ali Shariati. Their debate and rivalry on the pre-revolutionary scene in Iran we will argue focuses on their differing interpretations of revolutionary Shia Islam: Motahhari's dialectical conception and Ali Shariati's militant, evental conception -- which echoes Badiou's emphasis on Paul's truth procedure. Although sensitive to the fact that some may see the reading of the Sunni/Shia split through Hegel and the Mottahari/Shariati debate through the dialectics/event split we have located in Badiou and Žižek as a form of transcription into 'Westernese'; in the spirit of Enlightenment and universality that this writer shares with the authors he is critiquing, this is considered not so important as highlighting some of the shared philosophical problems of two of the world's universal religions. And more, we hope to demonstrate the respect and awe in the face of the supposed Otherness of Islam is part and parcel of the problem of how Christianity becomes essentialised and posited as a foundation by the exclusion of its counterpart universal religion.



Hegel and Islam




It is worth considering Hegel's reflections on Islam, not to snigger at their bold-faced Christian chauvinism, but to understand them as still implicit within the predominant understandings of Islam suppressed even within the non-judgemental, multiculturalist discursive framework: a framework forced to distinguish between 'moderates' and 'extremists', 'modernists' and 'fundamentalists' etc. For all the formal procedures of denouncing teleological thinking in contemporary culture, there is nevertheless the association of Christianity -- or at least Protestantism -- as possessing the telos of secularism; and Islam, lumped in with Judaism and Hinduism etc., as being somehow stuck in the past, unable to secede itself into a true modernity.



This perspective is reflected in Hegelian teleology, where Islam is neither consigned as a more primitive religion, nor dialectically incorporated into any part of the unfolding of the Notion towards Christian perfection. As W.T.Stace remarks: "It is a very curious omission on Hegel's part that although he has numerous scattered references to the religion of Islam, he assigns it no place in his history of religion" (1955: 491). For Hegel Islam went further than any other religion in abstracting the unity of God into a universal One, the movement to which marks the increasing perfection of the world religions in the Philosophy of History. But whereas this process of extracting the divine into abstract universality has a dialectical necessity in the unfolding towards the Notion, Hegel claims that it is because of the extremity of the abstraction in Islam that particularity and the universal are unresolved into the higher individuality of Christian worship. In other words, without the recognition that the Son of God died on the cross, there remains an unresolved bridge between humanity and God that leaves the individual separated from divine unicity and mankind separated from realising that its destiny lies within itself. It is no wonder then that Islam is consigned to an awkward place under Part IV of his chronological world history, in the section on 'The German World', despite its origination in the 7th century AD. It represents what should have been a historical dead-end in the ascent towards the Notion, but its continuation can find no telos within itself -- leading to its expected retreat in the twilight of history. Thus the excessive attachment of its believers to the faith acts as a roadblock to their development of the substantive basis of modern universality, requiring an anchor in individualism. This excess for Hegel has catastrophic consequences:



Subjectivity is here living and unlimited -- an energy which enters into secular life with a purely negative purpose, and busies itself and interferes with the world, only in such a way as shall promote the pure adoration of the One. The object of Mahometan worship is purely intellectual; no image, no representation of Allah is tolerated. Mahomet is a prophet but still man -- not elevated above human weaknesses. The leading features of Mahometanism involve this . . . so that the worship of the One remains the only bond by which the whole is capable of uniting. In this expansion, this active energy, all limits, all national and caste distinctions vanish; no particular race, political claim of birth or possession is regarded -- only man as abeliever. (Hegel 2001: 374)

Islam is correspondingly supposed to possess the same philosophical identity as the Terror in the French revolution. For Hegel, the dialectical necessity of the revolution -- the replacement of the monarchy by bourgeois rulers -- models a rational Christian ethos where the universal is concretised in the particular, or: "What is rational is actual; and what is actual is rational" (Hegel 1991: 20). However, Islam is foundationally closer to the quest for abstract unity in Jacobin Terror: "during which all differences of talents and authority were supposed to be cancelled out . . . because all institutions are incompatible with the abstract self-consciousness of equality" (ibid: 39). Hegel draws the parallel in logics:



Mahometanism was, at the same time, capable of the greatest elevation -- an elevation free from all petty interests, and united with all the virtues that appertain to magnanimity and valor. La religion et la terreur were the principles in this case, as with Robespierre la liberté et la terreur. But real life is nevertheless concrete, and introduces particular aims; conquest leads to sovereignty and wealth. . . . (Hegel 2001: 375)

As Hegel dedicates only five pages to what he calls Mahometanism (Islam) it is clear that his empirical knowledge is limited, or deliberately delimited. As may be the case for some readers, more extensive empirical background and comparisons are necessary. Most obviously, Mohammed, unlike Christ, never claimed to be a deity but solely a prophet. If we must speak in analogical terms -- in a Badiouian phraseology for instance -- we could say that Mohammed was both Christ and Paul, in that after the event of the prophecy he declared an internal fidelity to his own message and from that fidelity he himself established the protean Muslim community. But unlike Paul, Mohammed did not declare the rupture in the same sense. Islam, with Mohammed as its greatest prophet, was presented as the 'perfection' of the lineage of monotheistic faiths with its prophets including such Judeo-Christian familiars as Moses and Christ. Yet the dialectical language of 'perfection,' should not disguise the reality of rupture; the sudden revealed knowledge opening up the new and the militant truth procedure that concretised it.



After Mohammed's death, the early Islamic community was divided by almost two centuries of internal civil war (Halm 1991). There was nothing overwhelmingly territorial about this cleavage, although it did at times become carried by certain tribal rivalries between Caliphs. In the most significant split between Sunni and Shia, adherents to both creeds frequently existed alongside each other, even in the same Caliphal courts. Although Heinz Halm notes that "the Arabic word shia just means 'party'. . ." and that "Theological and dogmatic differences play a subordinate role in differentiating between Sunni and Shia" (ibid: 1-2), from a Hegelian perspective -- Hegel beyond Hegel if you like -- this is questionable. The unity of God, his Oneness eternally in opposition to the particularity of humanity, his 'purely intellectual' character as Hegel describes it, was undermined by the anthropomorphism of Shiism. Majid Fakhry argues: "we might safely assume that their anthropomorphism was dictated by the urge to ascribe a divine or semi divine status to the Imams, in whom according to the extreme Shiites God periodically became incarnate" (2004: 57-58). This 'urge' was perhaps historically determined.



The question of the succession of Mohammed was never adequately resolved in Islam. In response, the Kharijite movement of the 'first Islamic civil war' moved close to what Hegel describes as abstract self-consciousness of equality. They advocated tyrannicide and waged a brutal civil war against the Caliphate, advocating the complete equality of access to God and the destruction of institutions of power, and denounced their Muslim enemies in a similar way to how Sayyid Qutb in the 1960s would rationalise Islamist terror against the all-pervasivejahiliya (ignorance) amongst fellow Muslims. Even now, in a direct genealogical link, the name of the Kharijites continues to be evoked in Egyptian public discourse to warn against the temptation of 'Islamic anarchism,' and the abuse of the label is so widespread in the Middle East that it is even denounced by Osama Bin Laden (2005: 224). Arguably, the dichotomy between supporting the status quo and the bloodthirsty, literalist anarchism of the Kharijites was ended by the death of the son of Mohammed's daughter Fatima's son Hussain in Kabala in 671 AD. It is with Hussain that Islam experienced its 'Christ moment', with his 'martyrdom' on the Euphrates beginning the anthropomorphic bridge between humankind and the One. Shiism as the central Islamic theology of resistance to the status quo gained prominence over the Kharijites; now opposition was grounded in real social imbrications, i.e. in the support for the leadership of the familial lineage of the Prophet.



Does all this mean that from a Hegelian perspective we could consider Shia Islam in the same dialectical genus as Christianity? Does this mean that although Sunni Islam could be considered the foundational provocateur of arbitrary despotism (tyranny) or the pursuit of unmediated abstract equality (anarchism), in Shiism we can find a more acceptable Christianity-lite and thus an analogous foundation for Communist universalism? Perhaps, but such nonsensical dialectical insights only highlights the inadequacy of Hegelian teleology. From a Hegelianistic perspective the fact that Shiism did not develop through a dialectical sequence towards secularism would show that the religion remains essentially inscribed in teleology as a dead-end and can only continue unchanging and obscurantist, yet still bursting with the vitality that Christianity ceded to the Kingdom of Men.



Zizek and Badiou on Islam




According to Frederiek Depoortere, for Žižek, like Hegel, Islam took the wrong path of dialectical mediation, which explains why Žižek's "most important reference to it is in a footnote of On Belief, in which he states that Islam, in its attempt to synthesise Judaism and Christianity, 'ends up with the worst of both worlds'" (2008: 140). It is true, as Almond (2007) notes, that for Žižek Islam possesses a vitality unable to be recuperated into global capitalism with the ease of other religions (Tibetan Buddhism for instance); but still Žižek follows Hegel's limited understanding of Islam as possessing a fundamental ontological mistake -- a teleological anomaly in 'world spirit' -- which prohibits its overcoming. It seems, then, that the Hegelian schema is unable to account for the event of Islam, or comprehend the anthropomorphic event foundational to Shiism.



Problematically, from a Badiouian perspective things are not much better. In theory, it should not be difficult to consider the event of Mohammed's prophecies and the 'truth procedure' of establishing the Islamic community as an equivalent to the militant universalism of St. Paul. Considering the confusion in Western culture as to the meaning of the advent of Islam it is worth quoting Bernard Lewis on the matter -- a scholar who, considering his tacit promotion of the Clash of Civilizations (1997) thesis with Samuel Huntington, can hardly be accused of Islamophilia:



In a profound sense the advent of Islam had itself been a kind of revolution. The new faith overwhelmed existing doctrines and churches, bringing not a third testament to add to the previous two, but a new scripture to supercede them. . . . In Islam, as ideally conceived, there were to be no priests, no privileged orders or castes or estates of any kind. . . . In Islam, unlike the ancient world, a slave was no longer a chattel but a person, with a recognized legal and moral status. Women, although still subject to polygamy and concubinage, were accorded property rights not equalled in the West until modern times. (1995: 72)

However, despite this revolutionary change, according to prominent Badiou scholar, Peter Hallward, Islam is exempted from being an event on the grounds that:



Though Muhammed's revelation certainly broke with the prevailing state of the situation, it was anything but an ephemeral anomaly whose very lack of definition would allow for the elaboration of open-ended fidelity. On the contrary, his words settled (in principle) every philosophical issue in advance. Islamic philosophy is generally not oriented toward the future composition of a still unknown truth, so much as "back-up" to an originally definitive (and subsequently obscured) sufficiency. (2003: 408)

Although we can agree with Hallward that the Quran is more mimetically prescriptive that the Bible, and particularly more so than the writings of Paul, it is nevertheless an exaggeration to draw a sharp contrast between an explorative, future-oriented Christian legacy and a backward-looking Islam; such extrapolations merely repeat the Hegelian line of Christianity as the 'Absolute religion' within a different philosophical framework. We might further ask, given the Badiouian ontology of inconsistent multiplicity how all issues can be settled in advance? If nothing else, the history of the religions shows that it is not difficult to perceive a multitude of factional splits in both Islam and Christianity, for example: the prevalence of neo-Platonism in both the philosophies of Christian medieval thinkers and in Islamic philosophy; the hermeneutic splits in both religions regarding the literalism of interpreting the book (the Ismailis, for one, proposed an esoteric reading); and the split between Sunni/Shia and Catholic/Protestant as a broadly analogous divide over the correct political and doctrinal authority -- all of which throw doubt on the relevance of philosophical issues being settled 'in principle'. Rather, we could argue that the attachment of Muslims to factions of these splits indicates to us precisely that everything was not settled in advance; since if so the Quran as the uncontested, principal text should represent a clear guide. Concomitant to the closed space of Islam that Hallward supposes would be the absence of necessary ambiguities in order for subjects to articulate their fidelity to the event. Contra Hallward, though, the ex-post counter-propositional evidence shows us that once plugged into a Badiouian framework, the original event of Islam very much fit the categories.



Still, from the same Badiouian perspective -- although not considered by either Badiou or scholars working with his ontology -- Shiism looks to very much tarry with the negative. The demand for continuing leadership from the familial lineage of Mohammed appears to deny the demands of fidelity to an event by a free subject. Hussein's 'martyrdom' was also only with a great retroactive lag transformed into a foundational myth of Shiism and the process of the occultation of the 12th Imam did not unfold suddenly by the demands of an event, but as a dialectical reaction to both the oppression of the burgeoning Shiite faction and the degenerating logic of leadership by familial lineage over a long period of time (Halm 1991). From this perspective, it is not hard then to see Shiism as the ultimate religion of ressentiment. As Arshin Adib-Moghaddam observes: "Couldn't we point to the nobility of failure so central to Shi'i Islam and its foundational legends? . . . Is it a cultural coincidence that Iranians revere those members of the Prophet's household who have 'failed' in their political mission?" (2007: 186). Yet like with Hegel and Žižek, historicity is absent from the monolithic name of Islam presented by Badiou in his considerations on contemporary political Islam. In his eagerly anticipated follow-up toBeing & Event (2005), the Logics of Worlds (forthcoming 2009), he denies that a progressive revolutionary subjectivity can arise from political Islam:



. . . it is in vain that one tries to elucidate genealogically contemporary political Islamism, in particular its ultra-reactionary variants, which rival the Westerners for the fruits of the petrol cartel through unprecedented criminal means. This political Islamism is a new manipulation of religion -- from which it does not derive by any natural (or 'rational') inheritance -- with the purpose of occulting the post-socialist present and countering, by means of a full Tradition or Law, the fragmentary attempts through which some try to reinvent emancipation. From this point of view, political Islamism is absolutely contemporary, both to the faithful subjects that produce the present of political experimentation, and to the reactive subjects that busy themselves with denying that ruptures are necessary in order to invent humanity worthy of the name, and who moreover flaunt the established order as the miraculous bearer of a continuous emancipation. Political Islamism is nothing but one of the subjectivated names of today's obscurantism. (cited in Toscano 2006: 29)

It is only an elementary exercise to join the dots between the hypothesis of the non-evental character of Islam and the obscurantism Badiou accuses political Islam of. Admittedly, the above characterisation does fit many, if not most, of the Islamist movements in the 20th and 21st century; but what is significant is the foreclosure of potentialities located in the foundations of the religion. For Žižek and Badiou, it is not just that contemporary political Islamists are obscurantist; it is that the very foundations of their religion (respective to the possibilities Christianity opened up) forecloses the possibility for an emancipatory opening on its own terms.



In sum, what allows Hegel, Žižek and Badiou to see what they like in Christianity -- Christ's death and resurrection as the reversal of negativity into positivity for Hegel, or the pure positivity of Paul's fidelity to Christ's resurrection for Badiou -- is the dualistic structure of Christianity that Islam does not share. But what exceeds both schemas and what renders these ever more obscene philosophical-theological abstractions redundant is change. Foundations only render themselves as foundations through dogmatism. It is not Christianity or Shiism that is foundationally positive or negative, but subjects' willingness to declare radical ruptures within or from these frameworks. What unites a Christian fundamentalist and an Islamic fundamentalist is the denial of the possibility of this rupture. That said it is worth considering the Iranian revolution of 1979 as the exemplary case impossible to understand within the rubric of the foreclosure of Islam's emanciatory potential proposed by Žižek, Badiou et al. Firstly, however, we need to forget those over-simplified narratives of the revolution popularised in the West; whereby either only a reactionary Islamic force was at work from the start, or where a pure left was crushed by an Islamic right in the revolution's aftermath.2 In reality, there was an inter-pollination of Western philosophy, Marxism and Islamic ideology throughout 20th-century Iran, and the revolution should be seen as a culmination of that dialectic, as part the larger 'effective history' (to steal a piece of terminology from Gadamer) of the global revolutionary movement in the 20th century. It is another indication of the circularity of Christian hegemony in Western Communist theory that generally there is seen to be no contradiction in the Catholicisation of Latin American Marxism through liberation theology, yet the rare cases of the Islamisation of Marxist theory are treated with comparative suspicion and neglect.



Because some may think the analysis to come is overly abstract by not treating Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini's central role in the revolution as our point of departure, it is worth observing that although he was the most important figure of the Iranian revolution -- it's guiding force from exile and the grand jurist of the state following the establishment of the Islamic Republic -- his philosophical writings are substantially less interesting than his charisma which allowed him to lord over the post-revolutionary state. Despite the intellectual milieu preceding the overthrow of the Pahlavi regime in Iran, his doctrine of the supreme jurist, allied to his morally and politically conservative interpretation of Islam, collapsed all the novelties introduced by the pre-revolutionary Islamist ideologues into a 'modernist-fundamentalist' programme (the paradoxical conjugation is necessary to differentiate Khomeini from the medieval Islamism of the Afghan Taliban). Khomeini's only novelty, excepting the idea of the grand jurist as one of only a quasi-original break from the state of the situation, was to re-orientate Iran from American puppet state to challenger for regional hegemony vis-à-vis the Western allied bloc. Khomeini's ideology, in this sense and more, can be seen just as transference of traditional Shiite ressentimentagainst the Sunni majority to the West.3



Much more interesting are two of the 'vanishing mediators' of Iran's Islamic ideology: Morteza Motahhari and Ali Shariati. It is true that they are not the only mediators of the revolution to have vanished in the consolidation of the Islamic state: the Fidayeen and Mujahideen Marxist guerrilla groups were similarly purged and written out of Iran's official historiography. But for our purposes of examining the potentialities within Shia Islam it is the Islamic ideologues who help to best demonstrate -- through their unrealised potentiality -- the false exclusivity of Christian essentialism.



Revolutionary Rivals: Motahhari and Shariati




Both Ayatollah Morteza Motahhari (1920-1979) and Ali Shariati (1933-1977) used Shiism's motifs as a tool in their revolutionary ideologies; yet, for all their similarities, they were voracious rivals. Their rivalry culminated in Motahhari being assassinated by an obscure faction called the Furquan, loyal to Shariati's ideas, after the fall of Shah's government. Many have noted the similarity of their revolutionary appropriation of Shiism and have implicitly reduced their rivalry to one of the differing audiences: for Shariati, urban, secular intellectuals; and for Mottahari the seminaries and devout. Hamid Dabashi places particular emphasis on their ideological affinity: "Their ideas may have occasionally appeared as if issued from two diverse political worldviews. But in their respective contributions to the making of 'the Islamic Ideology' they are part and parcel of the same revolutionary enterprise" (2006: 157). However, there are reasons why Motahhari's ideological legacy has been etched into the legitimating discourse of the post-revolutionary state and Shariati's has not. As Ali Rahnema recounts in his biography of Ali Shariati, in discussions with a bookseller in Tehran, the seller admitted was not sure if Shariati was a "Saint, or the devil himself" (Rahnema 2000: x). Without telling us the political persuasion of the bookseller, it could easily be read either way: the seller could either have been a secular reformist, or a pious Muslim, such is the ambiguity surrounding Shariati's thought. On the other hand, Ayatollah Khomeini publicly wept at Motahhari's funeral, and on the 28th anniversary of his death in 2007, Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad declared: "At present, a specific source of thoughts is manifested in Iran which is contributing to the development of all Muslim Nations. The secret behind our success and fulfilment of divine purposes is to continue the path of Ayatollah Motahhari." (Notes on Iran 2007)



Although we could reduce these differences to one of Motahhari's clerical authority chiming with the ideology of the grand jurist, it seems insufficient to account for the valorisation of Motahhari and the ambiguous mix of demonisation and cooption of Shariati by the Iranian establishment. Instead, it is their approach to Shiism and the clerical establishment which seems to orient the split. For whilst both were extremely critical of the state of Shiism and its inadequacy as a revolutionary ideology, Motahhari's was a dialectical, revolutionary Shiism that preserved its juridical tenets; whereas Shariati's Shia Islam was a heavily subtracted conception emphasising rebellion, equality and universality. As Dabashi puts it: "No one did more than Motahhari in legitimating this updated Shi'i juridical discourse. Shari'ati simply concocted his own modern discourse, totally outside of, and indeed antagonistic to, the Shi'i juridical hermeneutic circle" (2006: 201). The difference we should emphasise, then, is between the preservation of tradition in Mottahari's dialectical Shiism and the sheer invention of Shariati's.



Taking Motahhari first, this difference is not surprising when we consider that he was Ayatollah Khomeini's student, friend and later representative in Iran during exile. But he was not simply a mouthpiece. Motahhari's philosophical output exceeds Khomeini's by far, because it did not just engage in negating through ressentimenteverything the West materially and philosophically stood for in his imagination (even if he did contribute he fair share to this discourse). He read Western philosophy, albeit imperfectly, and attempted to elevate theological scholastic discourse to equal academic philosophy. Both Motahhari and Ali Shari'ati's father, Mohammed Taqi-Shariati, were primarily conditioned by the rise of the Communist Tudeh party in the 1940s and the appeal of its Marxist, emancipatory alternative to traditional Shiite ressentiment amongst young urban intellectuals (Dabashi 2006; Rahnema 2000).4 Taqi-Shariati's foundation of the God Worshipping Socialists was a direct reaction to the Tudeh's propagation of Marxism, forcing the Islamic-left in Iran to engage with Marxism in order to adequately defend its positions against the ideologues of the Tudeh. From this first instance of negation, Islam and Marx in Iran were put into a dialectical relationship. Motahhari's intellectual development can most productively be seen in the tradition this relationship gave rise to. By attempting to negate the disenchanted world of secular Marxism, Motahhari's own discourse ended up sounding awfully similar to the objects of his consternation. This was not against his wishes, however, because this lexicographic transcription and smattering of sometimes critical, sometimes cooptive, references to Plato, Aquinas, Kant and Hegel served its ideological purpose to make political Islam resonate amongst modernist revolutionaries in the country. Foremost was his attempt to reconfigure Shiism from being a religion of ressentiment and weakness to one of strength and revolution; and in the process he had to challenge orthodox historical and religious doctrine. Dabashi tells us: "He had to rid Islam of all apparent signs of misery and passivity. For this reason, he severely admonished his audience for chanting, commiserating, and self-flagellating. . . . He went as far as to challenge the authenticity of the canonical reports that Imam al-Husayn's household actually came to Karbala on the occasion of his martyrdom" (2006: 176). And along these lines he redefined asceticism, as it ought to be: "The astonishing resistance of the Viet Kong is due to that which in Islam is called 'the lightness of one's necessities.' A Viet Kong can go on for days in hideouts and continue to fight on a fistful of rice" (Motahhari cited in Dabashi 2006: 193). The hermeneutic challenge of attempting to square Shiism with the demands of modernist revolutionary discourse and practice made him go out of his way in the practice of hermeneutically revising Shia Islam. For instance, against the injunction that the Quran stipulates that only Muslims (in the masculine tense) should seek knowledge, "he then produces an extraordinary explanation in a footnote where he argues that the Arabic masculine noun "Muslim" stands for both the masculine and feminine genders" (ibid: 205). In other words, for all its radicality, his theoretical practice operated within the hermeneutic contours of Shiite juridical tenets and points of reference -- stretching them as far as possible from traditional understandings to ones based on the primacy of rational deduction.



That is also not to say Motahhari's discourse was a solely superficial exercise of the accommodation of two contradictory world-views. In attempting to undermine the Tudeh's variety of scientific Marxism Motahhari also wittingly or not adopted what could be called a quasi-Hegelian Islamist perspective. For instance, in Spiritual DiscoursesShiite mythology is represented according to a phenomenology and ethical schema recognisably Hegelian in its emphasis on the universal and the recognition of the self-same identity of difference:



Is it a class feeling which makes us think of ourselves as belonging to the group of martyrs of Kabala and dislike Yazid and Shimr as we dislike our enemies? Do we project our feelings of sympathy or hatred on to each group respectively, while in truth both are related to ourselves? . . . On the contrary you may look at it from a different angle which is not personal and individual but is related to the whole of humanity in which there is no question of personal dislike but the truth. There your connection with the martyrs in your praise, and your dislike of their enemies, is not personal but general and universal. (Motahhari 1986: 22)

In this schema Motahhari argues that all positions are just relative, and thus incomplete, judgements except when viewed from the totality of the Whole. In referring to the Shiites, the substitution of religious sect, or faction, with 'class' is the curiosity of greatest interest. It is true as Dabashi (2006) claims that Motahhari's readings of Marx were limited by the range of Persian translations and the absence of a developed intellectual environment in the seminaries equipped to discuss such topics. Nevertheless, although his reading of class as a form of identity in opposition to totality is flawed according to a properly Marxist reading, the point is that he implicitly seeks to undermine Marxism here by equating class with exclusionary Shiite identarianism. Therefore, Shiism as a singular perspective or force of ressentiment is also rendered inadequate; the only truth to Shiism becomes that which meets the standards of the universal. Motahhari's mission is thus to appropriate for Islam this rational, universal perspective and vice-versa. He asks for example: "why do we think of Hadrat Ali, peace be upon him, is a perfect human being? Because he felt society's pain, and his 'I' had become 'we'. . . . He was a limb or organ of a whole body" (1986: 10). The twin necessities of revising Shiism to fit the standards of the universal and provide an ideologically adequate theology of revolution forces Motahhari to negate common Shiite precepts. The movement within Mottahari's hermeneutic reinscription of Shiism creates a dialectical event that opens the possibility of the new; a rupture impossible for functionalist fundamentalists like Khomeini to imagine.



To give another example of how he fundamentally questions received Islamic doctrine, in Man and His Destiny Motahhari turns to the ever-contentious issue of pre-destination (fate) in Islamic philosophy. The core problem is that owing to Shiism's belief in the destined return of the 12th Imam there has always been a concomitant sympathy for the Asharite idea of predestination, which also became Sunni orthodoxy after the fall of the Mutazilites (Fakhry 2004). The Asharite doctrine, in contrast to the rationalist Mutazilite school of thought, curtails the possibility of human freedom because of "God's absolute omnipotence and sovereignty in the world and the finality of his moral and religious decrees" in which "the human agent plays no part in the drama of choosing or doing and reaps none of the moral or religious fruits accruing from such initiative" (ibid: 210-211). The problematic of humankind's free will and divine predestination, although seeming an interminable religious question, is not all that different from Marx's famous difficulty with incorporating voluntarism in his otherwise teleological communist worldview.5 Likewise for Motahhari, it is important from a revolutionary, ideological point of view to discredit divine predestination and create an active conception of Shiite doctrine. On this issue he takes a different position on the conventional dichotomy between destiny and free will; attempting a transcendental critique of the dichotomy in regard to conventional Quranic exegesis on the matter:



The reason why the two sets of these verses are considered to be conflicting is that the scholastic theologians and some commentators of the Qur'an think that destiny implies that man is not free. According to them destiny and liberty are mutually inconsistent. They argue that the fact that everything is within the Knowledge of Allah means that everything has been predetermined by Him. . . . Now let us see if it is feasible to have a third view which may resolve the apparent conflict between the belief in fate and destiny on the one hand and Allah's Omnipotence and His Omniscience on the other. If we can find such a proposition there will be no need of interpreting any set of the Qur'anic verses. (Motahhari 2008: part 1)

Motahhari proceeds by dividing the concept of destiny into two: "It appears that there are two kinds of fate and destiny, one inevitable and unalterable and the other non-inevitable and alterable" (ibid). The dialectical movement begins. Motahhari goes on to infer from this something remarkable: destiny cannot be changed except by a change in a destiny itself -- it divides itself internally in a sequence of self-negations -- and in that complex change in destiny human agency inserts itself. It is worth quoting again at length to make clear the profundity of Motahhari's deduction:



Hence, a change of destiny in the sense that any factor can go against what has been divinely ordained or what the law of causation necessitates, is impossible. . . . But a change in destiny in the sense that the factor bringing about the change should itself be a manifestation of what Allah has decreed, is possible. Though it may look rather queer, it is a fact that the destiny can be changed by another destiny. . . . It may look more surprising if we think of the divine aspect of fate and destiny, for a change in this aspect implies a change in the celestial world, in the angelic tablets and books and in the Divine Knowledge. So can Allah's Knowledge still undergo a change? The surprise reaches its height when we admit that certain terrestrial affairs, especially human will and actions cause changes in the celestial world and the angelic record. (Motahhari 2008: part 5)

In other words: humankind affects Allah's knowledge, it affects the internal orientation of the celestial world and it renders obsolete any conception of eternal Law. And all this is deduced explicitly not from Quranic exegesis but through the strictures of logic itself. Further, does not the telos of this argument also imply that with the culmination of humankind's will the celestial is subsumed entirely? If so, is this not something like the Hegelian subsumsion of God by Geist from an Islamic perspective? Is this what allows Motahhari to claim: "The human being is the goal of the universe whether the earth is the centre of the universe or not. What does the phrase 'goal of the universe mean?' It means that nature moves in a certain direction in its evolutionary course whether we consider the human being a spontaneously created being or a continuation of other animal species" (Motahhari 1986: 20)? Morteza Motahhari, Ayatollah Khomeini's right hand man in Iran, emerges as an ultra-humanist Islamic revisionist. The Quran is negated as the eternal source of knowledge and humankind emerges as the end point of the evolution of thought and will in the world. Still, the path to this dialectical event, owing as it does from a series of dialectical inductions from hermeneutical juridical analysis, contains within it the necessity of the negated precepts. The event in Motahhari's thought, no matter the radicality of its deductions and propositions, is ultimately tied to the authority of the hermeneutic circle, even if he occasionally appears to cast aside exegesis in favour of rationality. This fundamental philosophical difference is what separates Motahhari from Ali Shariati. Although they collaborated for some time in Husainiyya Ishad, Motahhari withdrew prematurely in 1971, unable to rival Shariati's popularity and shocked by the unorthodoxy of his appropriation of Islam (Martin 2000: 79). Shariati proposed a political Islam neither fundamentalist, nor that of a dialectical convergence of Marx and Islam, but an Islam capable of generating the new itself entirely free of external determinations. Or, in other words: a political Islam bearing all the hallmarks of a Badiouian event.



The Event of Shariati's Islam




As we have discussed, Shariati's political genesis was the dialectical relationship between Marx and Islam initiated in Iran, a theoretical conjuncture shared by Motahhari and his father Taqi-Shariati; i.e. attempting to negate Marxism for Islam by dialectically subsuming Marxism within Islam. But therein lies the problem. Although Motahhari's dialectical hermeneutics creates the new, it is a new internal to its precepts, it is not a radical rupture as such. On the other hand, Shariati's break from this tradition was most obviously manifest after studying in Paris in 1959, where he was exposed to the heady environment of social self-criticism and intellectualism. Studying under the French orientalist Louis Massignon Shariati learnt about aspects of his own Persian culture and Islam that he was unaware of himself. And from Frantz Fanon and Jean-Paul Sartre he learned of the latest developments in the fusion of existentialism and 'Third World' revolutionary theory. Thus began the productive inter-pollination of theories that has typically been described as his eclecticism, or strategic Leninism. Ali Rahnema, for one, claims him as a "first class eclectic, he was part Muslim, part Christian, part Jew, part Buddhist, part Mazdaki, part Sufi, part heretic, part existentialist, part humanist and part sceptic" (2000: 370). But just as Motahhari's quasi-Hegelian interpretation of Shiism has gone unnoticed, there has conversely been a lack of theoretical exegesis of Shariati's method. Eclecticism implies that all ideas are held simultaneously regardless of their epistemological or ontological contradictions. We could not claim that Shariati altogether left behind the contradictions of the variety of sources he drew from, but significantly the structure of his argumentation at least aims towards that very purpose.



In his treatise on revolution, love, women, Islam, Marx and modernity Shariati's structure was to continually posit a dichotomy and explicitly not resolve it but render it deficient against the possibility of the new; satisfied by no synthesis or negation of the negation. Even the titles of Shariati's works express this anti-dialectical approach: Religion vs. Religion, Fatima is Fatima etc. In the latter work, regarded by many as his masterpiece, he successively looks at the dichotomies between Eastern women and Western women, and reveals their inadequacy. For example, the choice for Muslim women of traditionalism versus the role model of the liberated Western woman is revealed as an irresolvable choice of two evils.6 His answer is to find both choices wanting and to propose a new revolutionary way of being for Western women to inhabit that rejects both these propositions, which equally resonates for Iranian women in their unique social situation. His unfolding structure is always to undermine the dichotomy of choices, and then undermine the choices contained within those choices themselves.



In Religion vs. Religion he identifies the only true religion as that of the becoming of universal monotheistic religions against the status quo, and conversely their petrifaction in tradition or Law is the loss of the ethical imperative of universal monotheism to a form of covert polytheism. In his own words: "If I talk about religion, I do not talk about a religion which had been realised and which ruled society. Rather, I speak about a religion who goals are to do away with a religion which ruled over society throughout history" (Shariati 2003: 40). This division of the world into two states: polytheism and revolutionary universal monotheism, is clearly transcribable with Badiou's division of temporality around the event. And in Fatima is Fatima Shariati describes the truth procedure of a Badiouian event almost exactly:



In Islam the scholars are not wise people. They guarantee nothing. They do not have a handful of knowledge. Science does not consist of hundreds of pieces of information and knowledge. In their hearts is a ray of light, the light of God. It is not a question of divine science, illumination or Gnosticism. It is also not chemistry, physics, history, geography, jurisprudence, principles of jurisprudence or logic, which are all types of scientific knowledge. A science becomes illuminated with light when its knowledge brings about responsibility, guiding knowledge, and organization of ideas. (Shariati 1996: 98)

Here Shariati echoes Paul when he declared redundant both the Greek and Jew, meant not as nations, but as the subjective inclinations of wisdom and obscurantism. Shariati denounces the reduction of religion to a type of scientific knowledge, which is nothing but taxonomy, whereas science itself is the structure of subjective orientation to the opening of the new. For "responsibility" we could read 'fidelity' and the moment when "a science becomes illuminated by light," as 'event.' Motahhari also aimed at a 'sui generis' authority on Shiism when he stated: "As you see in physics, a scientist comes and introduces a new school. Then all others follow him. It is the same in jurisprudence. There are all these uluma', yet only one of them succeeds in producing a new school" (Motahhari cited in Dabashi 2006: 1999). Yet, remaining trapped in the discourse of jurisprudence, Motahhari cannot imagine the radical event Shariati is calling for. And is Shariati's philosophy not an event in itself? For far from being a dialectical convergence of Islam and Marx within a juridical hermeneutic framework, Shariati is declaring a new guiding principle of Islam from ground zero, tabula rasa. As Dabashi argues: "He was convinced, like no one else in his historical vicinity, that he had, in fact and in the fullest extent possible, seen the light" (2006: 145). That Shariati relates back to the inspiration of the Prophet Mohammed and his daughter Fatima does not imply an invocation of eternal Law (on the basis of which Badiou excoriates political Islam), but instead emphasises the necessity of forgetting, how forgetting inevitably opens the possibility of the new.



Shariati's programme is thus radically different to the invocation of the primordial ideal community by obscurantist political Islamists. For Shariati, Mohammed's daughter Fatima is simply "a model, an ideal example, a heroine" (Shariati 1996: 79) because "in spite of the little Muslims know about her, they accept Fatima, her majesty and power, with their whole hearts" (ibid: 84). Shariati's method is the same as he describes for the prophet himself, who "preserved the form, the container of a custom which had deep roots in society, one which people had gotten used to from generation to generation . . . but he changed the contents, the spirit, the direction and the practical application of customs in a revolutionary, decisive and immediatemanner" (ibid: 104). In other words, like Paul he enacted a 'universal singularity.' But for Shariati the degeneration of monotheism (universalism) to polytheism is an experience iterated throughout history, preceding and following from Moses, Christ and Mohammed, among others. Universalism can have no specific historical foundation as such because it rather is the act of becoming.



Conclusion (Religion at the Gates)




We have seen in this second part of the essay that the most strident Communist defences of the Christian legacy, by Alain Badiou and Slavoj Žižek, have a conception of Islam markedly similar to that of Hegel's. Their Islam fails the test of the universal: it fits neither into a teleological unfolding of world spirit (according to Žižek); nor, for Badiou scholar Peter Hallward, does it appropriately slot into the conception of a militant 'truth procedure' in the same way that Paul's production of the Christian faith can. However, by taking these overly abstract denunciations of Islam and grounding them in the concrete split of the Sunni and Shia, even if we have not conclusively managed to insert Islam into Hegelian teleology, or decisively proved it as a Badiouian event (if such a thing is even possible), we have at least dislodged some of the pre-suppositions which allows Christian essentialism to assert itself. Similarly, in our analysis of the philosophies of Ayatollah Morteza Motahhari and Ali Shariati, and their relationship to Shia Islam, we have seen how there was an originality in their utilisation of the religion for a radical, revolutionary programme that cannot be perceived through the usual lens of the obscurantism of such Islamists as Sayyid Qutb or Osama bin Laden. Both Motahhari and Shariati aimed at a universal, revolutionary event, forcing them to fundamentally reconstruct the meaning of Shia Islam from its tradition ofressentiment. Yet only Shariati's conception truly managed the radical rupture within the religion, unencumbered by Motahhari's need to maintain his break within the constraints of the Shia juridical hermeneutic circle.



Is it possible, then, in the light of the analysis we have conducted here, to maintain the thesis of Paul as the founder of universalism? We have pointed to the inconsistencies this gives rise too; inconsistencies that even Badiou (2003) alludes to in his conclusion, when after 107 pages of attempting to demonstrate Paul's foundation, he announces in his conclusion to St. Paul: The Foundation of Universalism that the claim is "excessive," but only because it is "already present in this or that theorem of Archimedes" or "in certain political practices of the Greeks." Slavoj Žižek, however, fails at any point to deliver any caution against his own temerity and pushes not only the significance of Paul, but also the ontological significance of the Christ event; using it as a standard with which to negate all other religions.



The consequences of this theological turn are not necessarily disastrous. Still, the valorization of Paul and Christianity raises the possibility of a troubling culturalist hypothesis for the failure in the humanity of non-Catholic 'Third World' Communist movements in the 20th century: an implication already picked up upon in Dayan Jayatilleka's (2007) explanation for the collapse of the global, revolutionary movement. Without substantive philosophical and historical engagement with Islam, which is after all setting the global scene of anti-systemic 'resistance' to Western hegemony, the exclusivist regard for Christian universalism ends up looking perilously close to a leftist variant of Samuel Huntington's Clash of the Civilizations (1997) thesis.



This considered, we might ask what purpose this theological turn serves? Why should Badiou, Žižek et al feel the need to be encumber themselves with theosophy? As an intellectual exercise revisting the theological matter upon which ancient and modern civilization was born is undoubtedly part of coming to terms with the historicity of our politics and epistemology. But surely if Communism is to have any meaning in the future -- if the global emancipatory struggle against capitalism is to be reborn -- then the ability to act 'as if' we exist on a bedrock of absolute possibility and relate through a transcendent universalism (not one grounded in a specific historical and religious procedure) is what will allow us to realize this future.





1 A scholar of Islamic or Middle Eastern Studies will notice a rather erratic transliteration of Farsi and Arabic words and names into English in this article. This is because the sources cited in this piece use a multitude of different transliterations and owing to the fact that this author is not a scholar trained specifically within the field, adopting and rigorously following any one system would be needlessly time consuming and considered only of great consequence for a specialist. Since the aim of this article is to break down the barriers between contemporary continental philosophy and Islamic studies it is hoped that the arguments will suffice; even if technical conventions are sometimes flouted. This author has at least attempted to be consistent in his use of individual transliterated words and names throughout and for the sake of consistency has removed inter-syllabic marks, e.g. Shi’a becomes Shia etc.



2 For more on the falsity of these distinctions and ambiguous differentiation between the left and the Islamists in Iran see my review essays of Ali Rahnema's biography of Ali Shariati (Coombs 2008) and of Maziar Behrooz's history of the left in Iran (Coombs 2008b). Hamid Dabshi also notes in a very interesting passage: "In the Kablistic tradition, the Tudeh Party had its share of sacred numbers, the first and most essential of which was "Fifty-Three," the number of original Marxists who planted seeds that would later grow into the Tudeh Party" (2006: 15).



3 Khomeini frames all his writings as a reaction to the conspiring, omnipotent 'West'; even the claim to the difference of Islamic jurisprudence from secular legal structures. In Islamic Government he argues: "What we are suffering from currently is that consequence of that misleading propaganda whose perpetrators got what they wanted and which has required us to exert a large effort to prove that Islam contains principles and rules for the formation of government" (Khomeini: 1979: 14). Khomeini's ressentiment follows a structure all too familiar to what Nietzsche needled as the 'slave mentality' in theGenealogy of Morality. Unable to affect a positive, constitutive force in its own right the slave can only demonise the master and turn against the positive force of life itself. Yet, as a revolutionary leader Khomeini excelled in tapping into constitutive anomie in society and turning the slave mentality into an active political force. The orchestration of the 40-day cycles of mourning to rally protestors to was not just an effective mobilisation technique but also induced what Giorgio Agamben (2005) also describes as the structure of messianic time in Christian eschatology. As Dabashi puts it: "During such recollections of historical memories, there occurs, as it were, a contraction of time, a bridging of the chronological gap. Ahistoricity means nothing" (2006: 421). Without ever explicitly stating it, Khomeini drew upon a deeply messianic expectation of redemption expected to be brought about by the return of the twelfth Imam, who "in contrast to earlier Imams who were passive and peaceful . . . would be the one with the sword." And furthermore: "The appearance of the Mahdi Qa'im will be preceded by terrible signs" giving way to a state in which "Under the Mahdi's rule there will be paradise on earth." And following the death of Mahdi: "Shiite authors speculate that the resurrection of the dead and the Last Judgement will follow directly" (Halm 1991: 37-38). The forty-day cycles clearly anticipate and induce the experience of messianic time, with Khomeini's absence in exile and his philosophy of the grand jurist (philosopher-king) clearly striking parallels with the occulted 12th Imam. The use of mourning cycles to induce a state of exception, where non-law and law are indistinguishable, has also been tracked back by Agamben to an institution of Roman law called the iustium. As he draws from the findings of a work by H.S.Versel, Agamben proposes "an analogy between the phenomenology of mourning -- as attested to in the most diverse places by anthropological research -- and periods of political crisis, in which social institutions and rules seems [sic] suddenly to dissolve" (2005b: 65). This is just one more example to help dissolve the sense of the absolute alterity of Shia Islam and its rituals, which Foucault, for one, seemingly fell under the spell of during his reportage for the Corriera della Serra.



4 It is important to mention this relationship between Motahhari and Ali Shariati early on to make clear some of their similar allegiances and also the political significance of their later rivalry. This rivalry culminated in followers of Shariati, in the breakaway Mujahideen organisation, the Furquan, murdering Motahhari after the fall of the Shah.



5 In the 18th Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte Marx's answer: "Men make their own history, but they do not make it as they please; they do not make it under self-selected circumstances, but under circumstances existing already, given and transmitted from the past" (Marx 1963: 15) is a compromise of ideological significance. Of course, it is impossible for anyone to actually live their lives believing at every moment their choices are predestined. Even if the intellectual position of predestination is not strictly irrefutable, the fact that we need to operate 'as if' we have free will makes the question more significantly that of affecting a tendency amongst those who hold the opposing position: i.e. those that believe in predestination are more likely to be apathetic about changing the world.



6 Shariati first undermines the position of traditionalist notions of veiling and oppressing women as deficient and proceeds to also undermine the modernist, Europeanised female role model as equally deficient. He then argues that the image of Western women in the Muslim world stops very short of reality. Veering from the ressentimentand cultural essentialism of the standard portrayal of Western women in Muslim countries as hypersexual sirens, he argues there is a very real truth to the liberation of women in the West and extols the countless examples of women who have realised this freedom in intellectual and political pursuits. But he goes on to argue that within the Western tradition the dichotomy between freedom and societal belonging is also oppressive. The choice of freedom which creates these exemplary role models is also an oppressive freedom from the social point of view of a woman in society: premised on an individualistic breaking away from a hierarchical social bond which results in loneliness and women's objectification.





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Nathan Coombs is a PhD candidate in political philosophy at Royal Holloway, University of London, co-editor of the Journal of Critical Globalisation Studies, and co-convenor of the BISA working group: Global and Transnational Politics. His research project is entitled 'Evental Hermeneutics'. This article was first published byInternational Journal of Žižek Studies 3.3 (2009) under a Creative Commons license.





 



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