4

The post-al politics being put forth by Lyotard, Cornell and other ludic theorists and feminists, such as Judith Butler, is basically an anarchic notion of politics. Its primary goal is individual freedom from authority rather than emancipation from socio-economic exploitation.

Ludic theories of power in feminism are aimed at displacing any centralized or systematic exercise of political, social or symbolic authority. These theories, however, take the state (not capital) to be the primary arena for the exercise of centralized power. For instance, the Foucauldian analytics is fundamentally anti-Statist with its critique of juridical and sovereign theories of power and substitution of diffuse, dispersed and anti-authoritarian—because indeterminate, acausal, contingent and reversible—theories of power (e.g., Foucault 1978; 1979; 1980). The State in Foucault and in ludic feminism is an ahistorical source of power. However, the state, as Marx has indicated, is the “committee for managing the common affairs of the whole bourgeoisie” (1988, 57). In place of any systematic authority—which derives from control of the means of production—ludic theorists seek to reconstitute power as, in and of itself, non-authoritarian, de-centralized and diffuse. What is at stake in these diverse anarchic-ludic theories of power is that they all rewrite power as an abstract form of domination—and which remains “abstract” no matter how “specific” and “local” they describe a particular effect of power. Power is “always already” cut off from the economic. As Foucault asserts, "power is not primarily the maintenance and reproduction of economic relations, but is above all a relation of force” (1980, 89). But in defining power as autonomous from the relations of production, ludic critics sever its relation to exploitation.

We see the anarchism of post-al politics perhaps most clearly expressed in the claims being made for “radical democracy” by ludic leftists. Stanley Aronowitz, for instance, rejects socialism and the “old” left, in large part, for their “sexism” and substitutes radical democracy as an effective politics of liberation. He argues that, “I do not intend to renounce socialism as a strategy of economic change, but I do contend that it can no longer remain a guiding principle for a movement of social emancipation” (1994, 43). Why? Because the issue of emancipation, in this ludic-anarchic logic, is severed from actual economic exploitation: both of which become marginalized as the “special” problem of a largely suppressed socialism. As Aronowitz makes quite clear “social questions” and the “goal of freedom (sexual, gender, ecological, and individual)" are considered “sovereign” and separate from “more economic and social equality” and issues of class—that is, they are quite separate from economic exploitation (1994, 44). However, "social questions” and the “goal of freedom” are not at all “sovereign” and separable from the material conditions of economic exploitation. “Goals” of freedom are themselves historical: environmental (Green) freedom becomes a goal only and only after a certain level of economic development has been reached. As Marx says, humanity always “sets itself only such tasks as it is able to solve” (1970, 21). Also “goals” are class “goals”: the class that has already achieved economic freedom sets itself the goal of sexual freedom, but “reproductive freedom," which is so important in the West, is not one of the primary goals of freedom in developing countries. The goals of freedom for each class are fundamentally the (different) effects of exploitation arising from the relations of production. But the focus of radical democracy and the “broad left," including ludic theorists, is on the more “general” issue of freedom from constraint, freedom from an abstract, centralized authority. The “pursuit” of radical democracy, according to Aronowitz, “can only be consonant with ideological and economic heterogeneity and the decentering of political authority” (1994, 44).

What is of primary concern in anarchic-ludic politics is not so much “human emancipation” from economic exploitation but that, as Aronowitz says, “human emancipation, if that term may be employed at all in the post-communist era, may be antagonistic to highly centralized authority and power” (1994, 44). In other words, in post-al politics, the issue of human emancipation is largely displaced and put in question—becoming more a matter of skepticism. If it is addressed at all, it is largely reduced to a problem of individual “freedom," an "antagonism” to “centralized authority and power” (1994, 44), without even asking how that centralized authority is related to the ownership of the means of production. This in turn becomes one of the main alibis for dismissing socialism because of its “authoritarian political legacy." But this simplistic ludic opposition of emancipation and authority completely rejects the revolutionary necessity of appropriating the power and authority of the state (the executive committee of the owners of the means of production) for social transformation. It so focuses on the (bourgeois) priority of individual freedom from any constraints on desires and differences, that it denies the revolutionary necessity of appropriating power to end the ways in which the individual desires and differences of the few are used to exploit the many. Let us not forget the revolutionary uses of state authority, for example, in the People's Republic of China, to (until recently) successfully eliminate the most severe socio-economic exploitation of women--including female infanticide, indenture, sexual slavery and prostitution--and provide women with extensive health care, education and economic opportunities. However, the recent counter-revolution in China and (re)turn to market economy has meant less state authority exercised on these issues in order to promote the emergence of privatization and “free” enterprise. This is creating a severe deterioration in the condition of women in all areas: much higher unemployment for women; a debilitating decline in health care for women, and the revival of female infanticide, indenture, sexual harassment and abuse on the job.

Ludic feminism and the post-al left entirely occlude the historical necessity of the class struggle over power—that is, the revolutionary struggle to wrest power away from the owners of the means of production and end the exploitative divisions of labor around gender, sexuality, race, nationality. In the anarchic-ludic logic such struggle is a non-issue, since power, is seen as nondeterminate and immanently generating its own local sites of resistance. Liberation is seen as freedom from authority, from regulation, from any constraints on the free play of the possibilities of (sexual) differences. It is reduced to a cultural politics confined to superstructural practices and severed from the material relations of production. Such a post-al freedom (post-authority, post-state, post-class, post-production) is disturbingly close to the demands (desires) of the “new” aggressive entrepreneurial anarchism of late capitalism that is so evident in the backlash against health care reform and affirmative action in the U.S. and the increasing strength of right-wing politics and racism both in the U.S. and in Europe. This entrepreneurial anarchism is passionately, even violently, committed to a completely unfettered freedom for the individual to pursue profit unconstrained by the state and any obligation to the social good. Ludic feminists, obviously, do not necessarily sanction such entrepreneurial objectivities. Cornell's “ethical feminism," for instance, seeks to theorize an ethical “Good," but she understands this “Good," as “the equitable honoring of faces," by which she means a reciprocal recognition of the other. In other words, Cornell's understanding of the “Good," of justice, as I have already demonstrated, is a matter of (non)representation isolated from the relations of production. Cornell's ethics, like the post-al politics of other ludic feminists, is quite unable to challenge the effects of entrepreneurial anarchism. Instead, the effects of ludic claims for the unrestricted play of (sexual) differences, for the unrestricted freedom of individual desires, reinforce this aggressive individualism. There is very little difference—in their effects—between ethical feminists and free market entrepreneurs in late capitalism.

For all its complicity with entrepreneurial anarchism, ludic theory is haunted by Marx and historical materialism—a “haunting obsession” that, as Derrida points out in his text Specters of Marx, is “the dominant influence on discourse today” (1994, 37). Ludic theory, including much feminist theory, has expended enormous energy and effort to displace, discredit and dismiss Marx and Marxism.[1] But we see the undeniable necessity of Marxism precisely in the ludic efforts to deny it. This contradiction is especially evident in Butler's text, "Poststructuralism and Postmarxism," which is yet another effort to suppress historical materialism and with it a revolutionary understanding of emancipation. Written as a review of Drucilla Cornell's The Philosophy of the Limit and of an essay by Ernesto Laclau, called "Beyond Emancipation," Butler's text is an argument in favor of an unprincipled, pragmatic, post-al politics of "politically practicable possibilities” following what she finds to be the "impossibility” of Marxism and the "unrealizability of the Good and/or Emancipation” (1993b, 10-11). While Butler marks a difference between her own more Nietzschean-Foucauldian approach and the more "Derridean approach” of Cornell and Laclau, her discussion of these texts is largely approbatory and quite exemplary of the ludic logic and its post-al politics. As Butler sums up these related positions:

For Cornell, the unrealizability of the Good, as she calls it, is the very condition of the possibility for the ethical relation; for Laclau, the unrealizability of 'emancipation' is the condition of the possibility for a political field mobilized and expanded through antagonism; and for me, the loss of the subject as center and ground of meaning has been, still is, the condition of the possibility of a discursive modality of agency. (1993b, 8)

This "valorization” of "unrealizability” derives in large part from the Lyotardian "incredulity” toward narratives or metanarratives—especially what Butler refers to as "the apparent failure of Marxist teleologies” (1993b, 3). According to Butler, "Marxist versions of history” have lost "credibility” not because “this version of history has played itself out, has taken place, and is now over” but rather because "belief in the possibility of such a history ever taking place, regardless of its temporal placement in past, present, or future, is now in permanent crisis” (1993b, 3).

What is this "Marxist version of history” Butler considers implausible? It is the historical materialist understanding of the forces of history as "the history of class struggles” (Marx 1988, 55). It is important to remind ourselves that this is an understanding of history not as narrative, not as contingencies, not as the desires of individuals, but rather, as Marx writes, history is the process in which "the material productive forces of society come into conflict with the existing relations of production," which have turned "from forms of development of the productive forces... into their fetters” (1970, 21) This then, according to Marx, "begins an era of social revolution. The changes in the economic foundation lead sooner or later to the transformation of the whole immense superstructure." For, it is in the "ideological forms” of the superstructure that "men become conscious of this conflict and fight it out” (1970, 21). The historical materialist explanation of history, in short, is a theory of social struggle and change—what Cornell dismisses as "messianic” history and Laclau as "eschatological” history (Butler, 1993b, 3). But historical materialism is not messianic, nor idealist, utopian belief, rather it is a concrete praxis: it is a critique of the existing relations of production and exploitation in order not just to interpret the world (the goal of ludic theorists), as Marx says in his famous "Thesis XI," but to "change it” (1976, 5). Laclau's attack on Marxism as "eschatological” is an alibi for positing history as aleatory: as the effect of haphazard forces of the market. If "eschatology” is the real question here, then it is "radical democracy” that is the outcome of an eschatological historiography.

It does not matter to Butler and other ludic theorists whether historical materialism effectively explains "historical reality," whether such history "has taken place” or will ever take place. Rather what counts is whether the "stories," the "(meta)narratives” are "believed”; whether they are "credible." According to Butler, "that narrative," constituting Marxist theories, "can no longer be told with the degree of plausibility that it once had.... To claim that belief in a certain version of history is no longer possible is simply to claim that the narrative that tells and enacts that history is no longer plausible” (1993b, 3-4, n. 1). Under the guise of "truth” ("believability"), Butler is, of course, reinscribing the pragmatic subject of the entrepreneurial bourgeois. "Believing” is subjective and, as such, privileges "consciousness." In other words, under the cover of "believing," Butler puts forth a social theory in which the consciousness of the subject makes (narrates) the world—a reassuring view of history for the ruling class. Butler is also positing history as a narrative, a story that one (consciousness) tells about the past. It is a "telling” that not only narrativizes the past but also activates and constructs the very belief that sustains it and lends it credibility. Butler, in a somewhat contradictory move, is also reducing history to ideology: to a series of representations that produces its own legitimacy. What counts is not the "truth” of the narrative or the validity of its explanation of the "real"—poststructuralists have largely bracketed both—but its ability to construct its own legitimacy in the telling.

The "poststructuralist position," according to Butler, posits "a future which is in principle unrealizable. The promise of history is one that is destined to be broken” (1993b, 4). In making such claims, ludic theories are mystifying history as an abstract, "eternal category," an eternal present whose "future... is in principle” (essentially) "unrealizable," and whose promises—of equality, emancipation, well-being—are "destined to be broken." Such a notion of history becomes little more than an alibi for the status quo. It attributes the historically specific failures of patriarchal-capitalism to an abstract, "essential” failure of history-in-itself, and in so doing, offers a subtle apologetics for free market anarchism. It suppresses the "real," objective contradictions and class conflicts in capitalism. This essentialization of capitalism is particularly evident when Butler declares that "In the unrealizability of history resides its promise," for any effort, according to Butler, to "realize” history "would foreclose contestation, difference, alterity” (1993b, 6). Such a logic reifies an "eternal” category of contestation and difference that is always already necessary.

What does this mean when we leave ludic mystification—what is this eternal category of "contestation, difference, alterity” that cannot be foreclosed or ended? It is, of course, the struggles over the exploitation of other people's labor; it is class contestation. This ludic legitimization of the "unrealizability of the end of history," of the end of contestation, and the impossibility of emancipation is nothing short of the legitimization of the unrealizability of the end of capitalism—an alibi for continuation of the existing relations of class exploitation and class privilege. Especially significant here is Cornell's position in which the "very difference, gap, incommensurability between the realizable and ideal," according to Butler, generates an "infinite striving” (1993b, 7). Cornell substitutes the ethical—as an "unrealizable," "infinite striving"—for a socially transformative politics. In so doing, this (former) socialist feminist not only abandons the socialist revolution to overthrow existing class privileges and relations of production but also argues against the revolution ever arriving for that would end the "infinite striving that failure somehow motivates” (Butler, 1993b, 7). This is the bourgeois hope that the revolutionary letter never arrives at its destination—that is, the place of its own class privilege.

Ludic theory leaves us then with a version of history as abstract and idealist as Proudhon's Hegelianism. Marx's critique of Proudhon is just as appropriate today to make of ludic theorists: "incapable of following the real movement of history, [they] produce a phantasmagoria... it is not history but trite Hegelian trash, it is not profane history—a history of man—but sacred history—a history of ideas” (1975, 31). Cornell's notion of "messianic” history and Laclau's notion of "eschatological” history, both refer, according to Butler to "Marxist teleologies." But it is the ludic theorists, rather than historical materialists who construct a utopian, messianic, “sacred” history of an "eternal,' unending present of infinite striving over differences. This is an abstract, static notion of social development as multiple and diverse in its details but as unchanging and unchangeable in its fundamental structure. Ludic theorists valorize the permanence of class conflict—and thus their own class privilege—in their claims for the necessity of unending antagonism: the necessity, in short, for the permanence, and inevitability of capitalism. It is not the future—specifically a non-exploitative, socialist future—that is unrealizable; rather it is the end of capitalism that is, for these theorists, impossible and unthinkable, and, for many, even undesirable.

Butler is largely approbatory of this valorization of “unrealizability," particularly Laclau's argument, as she says, “that certain freedoms and possibilities are opened up by the failure of a conventional sense of emancipation” whose “foundations are exposed as contradictory and untenable” (1993b, 8). For Butler such a “postfoundationalist sense” of emancipation “will be citational: its use will be “provisional and revisable.... Indeed the writer of 'emancipation' will not know in advance for what purposes or in what direction the term will come to signify” (1993b, 8). In her claims to “redeploy emancipation” Butler seeks to “mark off the 'playful' [ludic] use of the category from the serious and foundationalist one” (1993b, 8). She substitutes, in other words, a “playful” citationality of emancipation as a sliding, unlocatable, reversible trope for the “serious foundationalist” meaning of emancipation as a struggle concept necessary to the praxis of ending the exploitation of people's labor. This amounts to a ludic emptying of emancipation of any concrete meaning as specific revolutionary possibility, instead it becomes an abstract floating, “impossibility." But emancipation—as the historically specific project of freeing people from the exploitation of the relations of production in capitalism—is neither “unrealizable” nor “impossible." It is important to recall Marx's observation here: “Mankind thus inevitably sets itself only such tasks as it is able to solve, since closer examination will always show that the problem itself arises only when the material conditions for its solution are already present” (1970, 21). It is the task of historical materialism to provide this “closer examination” that not only shows us the problem but also how “the material conditions for its solution are already present."

Butler, however, offers a Nietzschean-Foucauldian solution to the “valorization of unrealizability” which she argues is subject to the Nietzschean critique that, as she says, “ideals, defined as the unattainable and inapproximable, are a deformation of the will to power... which turns back upon itself, defeats itself, and valorizes and romanticizes that self-defeat as its own constitutive necessity” (1993b, 8). Butler does not contest the “unrealizability” of emancipation, with which she is largely in agreement, but rather its “romanticization” as a condition of possibility. She thus poses instead “the more Nietzschean query: 'how [sic.] is it that the unrealizability of the Good and/or Emancipation has produced a paralyzed or limited sense of political efficacy, and how, more generally, might the fabrication of more local ideals enhance the sense of politically practicable possibilities?" (1993b, 10-11). Butler's solution to the “paralyzed... political efficacy” of post-al politics, in short, is more of the same. In advocating “the fabrication of local ideals," she is merely rehearsing and elaborating on Lyotard's little narratives and Foucault's “eventalization." She offers her assertion of a “Foucauldian approach” as “the site for a certain unbridling of utopian faith post-Marx” (1993b, 11). Butler claims this is “a deviation from Hegel, a repetition forward” (1993b, 11). But this is just another re-turn to the same old bourgeois idealism, the same “old Hegelian junk," that historical materialists have been struggling against for more than a century. As Lenin has argued, “Thousands of shades of varieties of philosophical idealism are possible and it is always possible to create a thousand-and-first shade; and to the author of this thousand-and-first little system... what distinguishes it from the rest may appear to be momentous. From the standpoint of materialism, however, these distinctions are absolutely unessential” (1970, 275). Butler's “thousand-and-first shade” of difference from the idealism of Laclau or Cornell is indeed “unessential." What matters are the consequences of their post-al politics, and this is the same: to render the emancipation of women and other oppressed peoples' from the exploitation of capitalism impossible.

In contrast, Red Feminism is the theory and praxis of emancipation. It insists on the historical reality of the “knowable good”: the necessity of ending exploitation and meeting the basic human needs of all people. Red Feminism is the struggle for international socialism in order to transform the condition of women globally in late capitalism.

Notes

[1]

In some of my other writings, I have shown at length how this is the case with other ludic feminists, such as Gayle Rubin and Donna Haraway; see Ebert 1995b.