The city in
a time of plague
History teaches us that epidemics are more like
revelatory moments than social transformers
By Pepe Escobar
The
plague-stricken town, traversed throughout
with hierarchy, surveillance, observation,
writing; the town immobilized by the
functioning of an extensive power that bears
in a distinct way over all individual bodies
– this is the utopia of the perfectly
governed city.
– Michel Foucault,
Discipline and Punish
April 20, 2020
"Information
Clearing House"
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Predictably eyeing the
Decline and Fall of the American Empire, a serious
academic debate is raging around the working hypothesis
of historian
Kyle Harper, according
to whom viruses and pandemics – especially the
Justinian plague in the
6th century – led to the end of the Roman
Empire.
Well, history
actually teaches us that epidemics are more like
revelatory moments than social transformers.
Patrick Boucheron,
a crack historian and a professor at the esteemed
College de France, offers a very interesting
perspective. Incidentally, before the onset of Covid-19,
he was about to start a seminar on the Black Death
medieval plague.
Boucheron’s
view of Boccaccio’s Decameron, written in 1350
and about young Florentine aristocrats who fled to the
Tuscan countryside to tell stories, focuses on the
plague’s character as a “horrible beginning” that tears
apart social liaisons, provokes a funerary panic and has
everyone wallowing in anomie.
Then he
draws a historical parallel with Thucydides writing
about the
Athens plague in the
summer of 430 BC. Pushing it to the limit, we may
venture that Western literature actually
starts with a plague –
described in Book 1 of the Iliad by Homer.
Thucydides’ description of the Great Plague – actually
typhoid fever – is a literary tour de force as well. In
our current setting, that’s more relevant than the
“Thucydides trap” controversy
– as it’s idle to compare the context in ancient Athens
with the current US-China hybrid war.
Both Socrates
and Thucydides, incidentally, survived the plague. They
were tough, and acquired immunity from their earlier
exposure to typhoid. Pericles, the leading citizen of
Athens, was not so lucky: he died at 66, a victim of the
plague.
The city in fear
Boucheron
wrote an immensely interesting book,
Conjurer la Peur
(To Conjure Fear) telling the story of Siena a few years
before the Black Death, in 1338. This is the Siena
pictured by Ambrogio Lorenzetti in the walls of the
Palazzo Pubblico – one of most spectacular allegorical
frescoes in history.
In his book,
Boucheron writes about political fear before it is
engulfed by biological fear. Nothing could be more
contemporary.
In Lorenzetti’s
Allegory of Bad Government, the court of bad justice is
governed by a devil holding a poisoned chalice (today
that would be the “crowned poison” – or coronavirus).
The devil’s eyes are crossed and one of his feet is over
a goat’s horns. Floating above his head we find Avarice,
Pride and Vainglory (match them with contemporary
political “leaders”). War, Treason, and Fury sit to his
left (the US Deep State?) and Discord, Fraud and Cruelty
on his right (casino capitalist financialization?).
Justice is bound, and her scales have fallen. Talk about
an allegory of the “international community.”
Boucheron
pays special attention to the city as depicted by
Lorenzetti. That’s the city at war – as opposed to the
harmonious city in the
Allegory of Good Government.
The crucial point is that this is a depopulated city –
much like our cities in quarantine now. Only men at arms
are circulating and, as Boucheron tells it: “We guess
that behind the walls, people are dying.” So this image
has not changed today – deserted streets; quite a few
elderly people dying in silence in their homes.
Boucheron
then makes a startling connection with the frontispiece
of Hobbes’s
Leviathan,
published in 1651: “Here again there is a city
depopulated by an epidemic. We know because at the
borders of the image we identify two silhouettes with
birds’ beaks, which represent the doctors of the
plague,” while the people in the city have been sucked
upward, ballooning the figure of the Leviathan state
monster who is very confident of the fear he inspires.
Boucheron’s
conclusion is that the state is always capable of
obtaining an absolutely unprecedented resignation and
obedience from the population. “What’s complicated is
that even if what everything we say about the society of
surveillance is scary and true, the state obtains this
obedience in the name of its most undisputed function,
which is to protect the population from creeping death.
That’s what plenty of serious studies define as ‘biolegitimacy’.”
And I would
add, today, a biolegitimacy boosted by widespread
voluntary servitude.
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The Age of Haphophobia
Michel Foucault
was arguably the premier modern cartographer of the
Panopticon-derived surveillance society.
Then there’s
Gilles Deleuze. In 1978, Foucault famously declared
that, “perhaps, one day, this century will be called the
Deleuzian century.”
Well, Deleuze
is actually more 21st century than 20th.
He went farther than anyone else studying societies of
control – where control does not come from the center or
from the top but flows through micro-vigilance, even
activating the desire on everyone to be disciplined and
monitored: once again, voluntary servitude.
Judith
Butler, talking about South Africa-based critical
theorist Achille Mbembe’s extraordinary
Necropolitics,
noted how he “continues where Foucault left off,
tracking the lethal afterlife of sovereign power as it
subjects whole populations to what Fanon called ‘the
zone of non-being’.”
So a great deal
of the intellectual debate ahead of us, borrowing from
Fanon, Foucault, Deleuze, Mbembe and others, will
necessarily have to focus on biopolitics and the
widespread state of exception – which, as Giorgio
Agamben has demonstrated, referring to Planet Lockdown,
is now completely normalized.
We cannot
even begin to imagine the consequences of the
anthropological rupture caused by Covid-19. Sociologists
for their part are already discussing how “social
distancing” is an abstraction, defined and lived in
quite unequal terms. They are discussing the reasons why
the powers that be chose a martial vocabulary
(“lockdown”) instead of
forms of mobilization guided by a collective project.
And that will
lead us to deeper studies of the Age of Haphophobia: our
current condition of widespread fear of physical
contact. Historians will be trying to analyze it in
conjunction with how social phobias have evolved across
centuries.
There’s
no question that Foucault’s exhaustive mapping should be
understood as a
historical analysis of
different techniques used by the powers that be to
manage the life and death of populations. Between the
crucial years 1975 and 1976, when he published
Discipline and Punish (featured in this essay’s
epigraph) and the first volume of History of
Sexuality, Foucault, based on the notion of “biopolitics,”
described the transition from a “sovereign society” to a
“disciplinary society.”
His main
conclusion is that techniques of biopolitical government
spread out way beyond the legal and punitive spheres,
and now are all over the spectrum, even lodged inside
our individual bodies.
Covid-19 is
presenting us with a huge biopolitical paradox. When the
powers that be act like they are protecting us from a
dangerous disease, they are imprinting their own
immunity-based definition of the community. At the same
time they have the power to decide to sacrifice part of
the community (elderly people left to die; victims of
the economic crisis) to the benefit of their own idea of
sovereignty.
The state of
exception to which many parts of the world are subjected
now represents the normalization of this unbearable
paradox.
House arrest
So how would
Foucault see Covid-19? He would say that this epidemic
radicalizes biopolitical techniques applied to a
national territory, and inscribes them in a political
anatomy applied to each individual body. That’s how an
epidemic extends to the whole population political
measures of “immunization” that previously only applied
– violently – to those that were considered “aliens,”
inside and outside the national, sovereign territory.
It’s irrelevant
whether Sars-Covid-2 is organic; a bioweapon; or, CIA
conspiracy theory-style, part of a world domination
plan. What’s happening in real life is that the virus
reproduces, materializes, extends and intensifies – for
hundreds of millions of people – dominant forms of
biopolitical and necropolitical management that were
already in place. The virus is our mirror. We are what
the epidemic says we are, and how we decide to face
it.
And under such
extreme turbulence, as noted by philosopher Paul
Preciado, we end up reaching a new necropolitical
frontier – especially in the West.
The new
territory of the border politics the West has been
testing for years over “The Other” – blacks, Muslims,
the poor – now starts at home. It’s as if Lesbos, the
key entrance island for refugees in the Eastern
Mediterranean coming from Turkey, now started at the
entrance of each Western apartment.
With pervasive
social distancing in place, the new border is each and
everyone’s skin. Migrants and refugees were previously
considered viruses, and only merited confinement and
immobilization. But now these policies apply to whole
populations. Detention centers – perpetual waiting rooms
that abolish human rights and citizenship – are now
detention centers inside one’s own home.
No wonder the
liberal West has been plunged into a state of shock and
awe.
Pepe Escobar
is correspondent-at-large at
Asia Times.
His latest book is
2030.
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Facebook.
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