Professional Documents
Culture Documents
Carlo Salzani
abstract
The article analyzes the ethical and political stakes in Giorgio Agamben’s The Coming
Community. The book was first published in Italian in 1990 and was translated into
English in 1993. It was then republished in Italian in 2001, with a short new apostil by the
author that reaffirms its persistent and actual “inactuality.” In this text Agamben estab-
lishes the philosophical foundations of the long-lasting project started with the publica-
tion of Homo sacer (1995). Its republication in 2001 seems thus to reaffirm the politics
of his analysis of the past fifteen years. The argument revolves around the analysis of
the “whatever singularity” (qualunque in Italian, quodlibet in Latin) as the subject
of the “coming community,” a singularity that presents an “inessential commonality,
a solidarity that in no way concerns an essence.” Whatever must not be understood as
“indifference” but, rather, as “being such that it always matters.” The ethical and politi-
cal proposal consists in the call to adhere to this singularity without identity and repre-
sentation in order to construe a community without postulates and thus also without
“subjects.” The paradigm of this politics is identified in Nancy’s term inoperativeness
(inoperosità), a messianic “de-creation.” The inoperative whatever is directed toward a
politics che viene, à-venir as distinct from futura, future: It implies in fact the renuncia-
tion of construing images of the future—“utopia is the very topicality of things.”
The thought of Giorgio Agamben has been often accused of being utopian.
Antonio Negri, for example, branded Agamben’s core concept, “naked” or
“bare life,” as a “utopian escape”1 and then identified in State of Exception
(2003) a “feverish utopian anxiety.”2 Andreas Kalyvas accused his notion of
politics of dissolving “into an eschatological, utopian vision of social life,”
infused with strong theological and messianic overtones, which would make
of it a particular version of political theology.3 And Dominik LaCapra found
the strong separation of ethics and legal concepts in Remnants of Auschwitz
(1998) an “ecstatic, anarchistic Utopia” and identified the core of Agamben’s
thought in a “blank, Utopian, messianic (post)apocalypticism.”4 Agamben’s
work has attracted other, and ever harsher, criticisms, which I will leave
here aside, however, in order to analyze his relation to utopianism.5 Negri,
K alyvas, and LaCapra voice a quite common unease for a political project
that is deemed unrealizable, empty, even impolitic;6 “utopia” is here thus
spelled as an impractical, idealistic scheme for social and political reform. A more
precise definition is needed.
At the end of his essay on Surrealism (1929), Walter Benjamin
writes: “For what is the program of the bourgeois parties? A bad poem
on springtime, filled to bursting with metaphors. The socialist sees that
‘finer future of our children and grandchildren’ in a society in which all
act ‘as if they were angels’ and everyone has as much ‘as if he were rich’
and everyone lives ‘as if he were free.’ Of angels, wealth, freedom, not a
trace—these are mere images.”7 In a piece written two years later, “Der
destruktive Charakter” (1931), he insists that a radical, revolutionary poli-
tics must renounce optimistic, metaphoric contemplation: “The destruc-
tive character sees no image hovering before him.”8 Benjamin does not
employ the term utopia; it is clear nonetheless that a political project found-
ed on mere—and optimistic—images of the future is the target of his harsh
criticism. If political utopianism in fact originated—strongly influenced
by world travels and discoveries of new lands—by situating a political
alternative in a spatial displacement (a nonplace that is, however, another
place), at least from the Enlightenment it assumed the character of a “bet-
ter future” toward which a progressive politics should strive.9 If, follow-
ing Benjamin, we define “utopia” as a political project construed around
images of the future and rhetorically based on the syntagma “as if ” (als ob),
then Agamben’s project exudes an intrinsic and intense anti-utopianism. It
is true that there is no explicit attack on utopia in his work and even that,
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1. Quodlibet
The Coming Community (La comunità che viene) was published in Italian in 1990,
in the aftermath of the fall of the Berlin Wall, the Tiananmen protests, and
the dissolution of Eastern European socialism. However, more than a reflec-
tion on geopolitical changes, the book was a response to the political debate
about the idea of community originated in France by the publication in 1983
of Jean-Luc Nancy’s essay “The Inoperative Community,” followed the same
year by Maurice Blanchot’s response, The Unavowable Community, and again,
three years later, by Nancy’s expansion of the earlier ideas in book form.11 At
the center of the debate stood the notion of belonging and the question of
an idea of community immune to exclusion, isolation, and violence. Whereas
both Nancy and Blanchot approach the question from the Heideggerian
perspective of Mitsein (being-together), Agamben takes a surprising route
that leads to the disavowal of the very logic of belonging, identity, and
representation.12
The argument of the book revolves around the notion of qualunque,
which is the Italian translation of the scholastic Latin quodlibet and is ren-
dered into English as “whatever.” “The coming being,” states the first sen-
tence of the book, “is the whatever being.”13 Quodlibet, “whatever” but also
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“any” as in the expression “any being,” is the term that remains unthought in
the definition of the transcendentals but conditions the meaning of all other
terms. It considers singularity not in its indifference in regard to a common
propriety but in its being as such (tale qual è [CV, 9]); neither particular nor
universal, neither individual nor generic, it refers rather to the “singular”
and expresses a pure singularity. Pure singularity has no identity, Agamben
states, it is omnivalent (CV, 14): “It is not determined vis-à-vis a concept, but it
is not simply undetermined either; rather, it is determined only through its
relation to an idea, that is, to the totality of its possibilities” (CV, 55). What
Agamben calls “idea” is not that of the Platonic tradition but, rather, as he
writes, a “similarity” or “resemblance with no archetype” (CV, 42; emphasis in the
original), which thus severs any obligation to belonging.14 Its belonging, its
being-such, is only relation to an empty and undetermined totality. The most
common is what needs to be repeatedly approached and exposed, for the
most common is only in its approach, its exposure, its “coming.” Whatever
being is not its qualities; it is its exposure to all its qualities that each particular
quality resays or re-calls.15
This way of eluding the antinomy of singularity and universal-
ity is clearly exhibited in the example: An example is valid for all cases of
its genus and, simultaneously, is included among them. It is a singularity
among others, but one that, since it stands for all others, cannot be valid
in its particularity: “Neither particular nor universal, the example is a sin-
gular object that, as it were, shows itself as such, shows its singularity” (CV,
14; emphasis in the original). The Greek term for it, para-deigma (like the
German, Bei-spiel), poignantly expresses this being that is always beside itself
(para-, bei-), “since the proper place for the example is always beside itself,
in the empty space in which its unqualifiable and unforgettable life unfolds”
(CV, 14). The whatever singularities thus communicate only in the empty
space of the example, being bound by no common propriety, having aban-
doned all identity.
This issue is extremely important for the entire Homo sacer project, but it
is also extremely ambiguous and controversial: After the Foucauldian Kehre,
which finally produced Homo sacer, Agamben began working, like Foucault,
with “paradigms” (homo sacer, naked life, the state of exception, the camp, the
Muselmann, Christian oikonomia, etc.). In fact in Homo sacer this same argument
about the example is rehearsed as symmetrical to the exception, whereby
the exception constitutes an exclusive inclusion and the example, an inclusive
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This is for Agamben the political task of our generation, since, he writes
in a somewhat apocalyptic tone, the survival of the human species depends
on this new notion of community (CV, 53). The same tone—harshly criti-
cized by several readers21—marks the very conclusion of Homo sacer, where
Agamben prognosticates that unless we overcome the biopolitical impasse
of our time, we will face an “unprecedented biopolitical catastrophe.”22 In
both cases, the task involves an overcoming of the state and of the notion
of sovereignty, so that these remarks in The Coming Community can be read—
as will be emphasized throughout the essay—as an anticipation of the later
critique of sovereignty developed in Homo sacer: Having no identity and no
belonging, the whatever singularities cannot possibly build a societas; they
disavow the logic and workings of representation and sovereignty. The state
cannot tolerate such an antisovereign community without identity, without
distinctions and separations, without boundaries and qualities; therefore, the
“whatever s ingularity . . . is the foremost enemy of the state” (CV, 69).
2. Potentiality
217
to its actuality; it has therefore as its own object potency itself—it is a potentia
potentiae (see CV, 34).
This is the core argument of Agamben’s interpretation of potentiality
and recurs in major and minor texts to sustain, as it were, his entire philo-
sophical project. It is thoroughly exposed in a paper first given at a conference
in Lisbon in 1987 and then published in Italian as “La potenza del pensiero”
(The potency of thought).24 Interpreting Aristotle’s Book Theta of Metaphysics,
Agamben remarks that “in its originary structure, human potentiality main-
tains itself in relation to its own privation, it is always—and in regard to the
same thing—potentiality of being and of not being, of doing and not doing.
This relation constitutes, for Aristotle, the essence of potentiality. Beings that
exist in a potential mode can their own impotence, and only this way they
possess their potency. They can be and do, because they are in relation to
their own nonbeing and nondoing.”25 Life is thus a potentiality that inces-
santly exceeds its forms and realizations, and Agamben’s political wager is
to center the coming politics on this surplus.26 That the whatever being is
a potential being means that it does not have to attain any essence, any his-
torical or spiritual vocation; it has no destiny. What it is and has to be “is the
simple fact of its own existence as possibility or potentiality” (CV, 39; emphasis in
the original). Existence is no essence and no destiny; it is, rather, an ethos, and
ethics means, in this sense, “to be [one’s own] potentiality, to exist [one’s own]
possibility” (CV, 40).
The central political question of human “essence” is further explored
in an essay that, almost twenty years later, rehearses the argument of “La
potenza del pensiero”: “L’opera dell’uomo” (“The Work of Man”).27 Human
beings have no ergon, writes Aristotle in the Nicomachean Ethics, no opera, no
work: Ergon is strictly related to energeia, the term that, functionally opposed
to dynamis, constitutes the pair potency–act. Humans have no proper ergon,
no essence that constitutes their proper energeia, their being-in-act; humans
are thus argos, deprived of ergon, which means that their proper existence is
dynamis, potentiality.28 Melville’s scrivener Bartleby, who does not simply stop
writing but, rather, “prefers not to,” who does not write anything but his own
potency of not writing, is the figure that embodies this impotence that turns
onto itself and thus happens as a “pure act” (see CV, 35). Bartleby, Agamben
writes in the essay devoted to him, embodies perfect, absolute potentiality,
and as such, he is the figure of absolute contingency.29 Stefano Franchi and
Thomas Carl Wall insist, in this regard, on the notion of “passivity,” which
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objection to any political utopianism. Like Robert Walser’s creatures or Kaf ka’s
characters, the whatever singularities are neutral and impassive toward salvation
and redemption: There is no redemption for them, and they are unredeemable
because there is nothing to be redeemed in them (see CV, 12). To put it differ-
ently, the possibility of salvation begins only when we acknowledge that this sal-
vation can only be that of the profanity of the world, of its being-thus (CV, 73).
The second part of The Coming Community is entitled “The Irreparable”
(“L’Irreparabile”) and constitutes a little, fragmentary, and aphoristic trea-
tise of ontology.37 Irreparable means that the world is given irretrievably in
its own being-thus (esser-così), that it is precisely and only its own thus (così
[CV, 37, 73]). The irreparable is neither an essence nor an existence, neither a
substance nor a quality, neither a possibility nor a necessity: “It is not prop-
erly a modality of being, but rather it is Being that already always gives itself
in the modalities, is its modalities. It is not thus [così], but rather is the thus”
(CV, 75; emphases in the original). Irreparable is the world in its “eternal expo-
sition and facticity” (CV, 82). Exposition and facticity raise the question of
redemption as an ontological question: Redemption is not an event in which
what has been lost is recovered but, rather, is “the irreparable loss of what
is lost, the definitive profanity of what is profane” (CV, 85). In an enigmatic
and quasi-mystical tone that owes much more to Kaf ka’s and Benjamin’s
messianism than to Heidegger’s and Wittgenstein’s philosophy, Agamben
states: “We can have hope only in what has no remedy. That things are so and
so—this is still in the world. Yet, that this is irreparable, that this so [così] has
no remedy, that we can contemplate it as such—this is the only opening out
of the world. (The innermost character of salvation: that we are saved only
when we no longer want to be saved. Because of this, in this moment, there
is salvation—but not for us)” (CV, 85). Again, the last two aphorisms of the
book state, “When you realize the irreparability of the world, then the world
is transcendent,” and, “How the world is—this is out of the world” (CV, 88).
Redemption must be sought in the irreparable facticity of the world. The
world is thus abandoned to its thus, to its irreparability. However, this abandon-
ment does not mean indifference but, rather, is strictly connected to the question
of love, a love that has little to do with a psychological or emotional state but,
rather, constitutes an ontological mode, an ontological openness and relation
to the world.38 As Agamben states at the very beginning of the book, quodlibet,
though usually—and correctly—translated as qualunque, “whatever” in the
sense of “no matter what, indifferently,” etymologically means, to the contrary,
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4. Ho Nyn Kairòs
The “irreparable” also means, Agamben writes, that “utopia is the very topi-
cality of things” (CV, 86), and this is the only passage of the book where
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utopia is ever mentioned. This passion of facticity, this lack of the sense of
redemption, also determines the temporality of the coming community.
The 2001 Italian reedition of the book contains an apostil that reorients its
scope in the direction taken by Agamben’s project from the publication of
Homo sacer onward; or, rather, it emphasizes some of its traits that were, in
the first edition, “but a hypothesis” (CV, 92) and confers them the more accen-
tuated messianic overtones of the later work. A small clarification, confined
to the suspension of two parentheses, makes a fundamental point: “Coming
does not mean future” (CV, 92). The “coming” of the coming community is
devoid of the tension toward something that lies ahead, in the future, devoid
of a linear understanding of time that sees it as a cumulative progression.45
This “coming” has no teleological valences; it is like a letter with no addressee,
with no destination (see CV, 12). The coming community is not a future one
that we have to make. Its temporality is the interstitial time of waiting in
which the notion of what-one-is-waiting-for is unimportant and irrelevant.46
Agamben has best illustrated this notion of time, fundamental for his
whole project, in the book on St. Paul, The Time that Remains (2000).47 The
“technical” expression used by St. Paul to designate the messianic time is
ho nyn kairòs, “the time of now,” which repositions the redemptive project
from the future of the eschaton to the present of the messianic event.48 This
is neither chronological time nor the time of prophecy turned toward the
future, nor that of the apocalypses, the eschaton as the end of time; it is,
rather, “the time of the end” (TR, 63; emphasis in the original): “What interests
the apostle is not the last day, not the instant in which time ends, but rather
that time that contracts and begins to end . . . —or, if you want, the time
that remains between time and its end” (TR, 63). This time is not external to
chronological time but, rather, a portion of profane time that is subjected to a
contraction and is completely transformed; it is a rest, what remains between
chronological time and the apocalyptic eschaton.
To explain it, Agamben refers to an image: He tells the story, found
in Plinius, of the contest that took place between Apelles and Protogenes
about tracing the most sharp and perfect line. While the latter drew a line
so thin that it did not seem drawn by human hand, Apelles further divid-
ed this line in the middle with a new, even thinner and sharper line. Mes-
sianic time is like Apelles’s line, a caesura that, by dividing the very division
between chronological time and eschaton, introduces in it a rest exceeding
the division itself (see TR, 64). It is, importantly, the “operative time that urges
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within chronological time and labors and transforms it from within, the time
we need in order to complete time—in this sense: the time that remains to us”
(TR, 69; first emphasis added). As operative time, it is the time “in which we
grasp and perform our representation of time, it is the time that we ourselves
are—hence, the only real time, the only time we have” (TR, 68). Every moment
is the messianic now, or, as Benjamin would say, every second is “the small
gateway in time through which the Messiah might enter,”49 and this is not
the chronological end of time but, rather, “the present as demand of fulfillment”
(TR, 76; emphasis added). This means that salvation must not be sought in
the future or in eternity but in that contraction of past, present, and future
in which alone time can be grasped, in which it is made operative. Contempo-
raneità (a word that in Italian corresponds to the English cognate “contempo-
raneity” but also refers to “actuality”), Agamben glosses in a recent essay, is
“that relation to time that adheres to it through a lag and an anachronism.”50
The “coming” of the coming community is thus an “always coming”; it
exists in the time of the end. Its politics finds its place neither in the roman-
ticism of the past nor in the yearning for a utopian future but, rather, in a
profound presentness, in the realization that within the present lies the
possibility/potentiality of change and transformation. Radical change must
begin with the time of the present and in this world.
5. Shabbat
The politics that goes together with this messianic notion of time is not one
of “producing” a new community, a new identity, race, class, people, nation,
faith, world order, or earth; rather, it is one that Agamben calls “inoperative.”
This term has become, at least from the publication of Homo sacer (1995), the
pivot around which revolves the whole pars construens of his philosophical
and political project. The concept is contained, in nuce, in “Idea della politica”
(Idea of politics) in Idea of Prose (1985), which relates the condition of the
dwellers in limbo: Abandoned to the absence of God, to His forgetfulness,
they are unredeemably lost, but precisely this loss means that they have
no destiny; they live like letters with no addressee, in the joy of an inesti-
mable hope.51 “Idea della politica” is reproduced almost word for word in
the chapter “Dal limbo” (From limbo) in The Coming Community, to represent
the condition of the whatever singularities, indifferent to redemption because
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irredeemable but as such embodying that life, simply human, that survives the
end of the politico-theological machine (see CV, 11–12). It is only in the 2001
apostil that Agamben renames this condition “inoperativity”: “Not work,
but rather inoperativity and de-creation are . . . the paradigm of the coming
politics” (CV, 92).
It is in Homo sacer that Agamben articulates explicitly this theme:
“Inoperativity” (inoperosità in Italian, but Agamben often uses the French
word) translates the French term désœuvrement, which was first coined by
Alexandre Kojève in a 1952 review of three novels by Raymond Queneau,
Pierrot mon ami (1942), Loin de Rueil (1944), and Le dimanche de la vie (1952).
Kojève argues that the three protagonists of the novels, whom he calls voyous
désoeuvrés (lazy rascals), embody in a sense the wisdom of man living after
the end of history.52 The article provoked the sarcasm of Georges Bataille,
who coined, in his correspondence with Kojève, the term homo queneulleusis
(association of quenelle, a sort of dumpling, with Queneau). The Bataille–
Kojève querelle had a great impact on the following generation in France, and
the term entered the philosophical debate, taking a central place in Nancy’s
and Blanchot’s reflections.53 In Homo sacer, Agamben proposes a personal
redefinition of désœuvrement: It cannot be merely read as the absence of
work/activity (assenza di opera) or, as in Bataille, as a form of negativity that
is sovereign insofar as it has no use (senza impiego); rather, it must be read as
“a generic mode of potentiality, which is not exhausted (like the individual or
collective action, intended as the sum of individual actions) in a transitus de
potentia ad actum.”54
In Means Without Ends (1996), then, the argument takes the central place
that it has retained in Agamben’s later works: Human beings as potential
beings, as we have seen, have no proper ergon; they are argos, without opera,
inoperative (inoperoso).55 Therefore, “politics is what corresponds to the essen-
tial inoperosity of human beings, to the radical absence of work of human
communities. There is politics because human beings are argos, not defined by
any proper operation—that is: pure potential beings, who cannot be exhausted
by any identity and any vocation.”56 The theme of the coming politics is there-
fore to interrogate the essential inoperosity and potentiality without trans-
forming them into a historical task, by simply assuming this exposition and
this creative indifference to any task as a politics assigned to happiness.
Again, this theme is central to the book on St. Paul. The messianic
vocation (klesis), Agamben explains, consists precisely in the re-vocation
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we should say, “I’d prefer not to,” and stop trying to perfect the world and to
construe images of the future.
This notion of messianic, anti-utopian political praxis not only has been
accused of being impractical, impolitic utopianism,70 or even a “negative
theology,”71 but has been attacked with particular vehemence by leftist
theorists. These criticisms cannot be examined in depth here, but a couple
of examples are in order. In a brief intermezzo on Bartleby’s refusal (which
only implicitly—but unequivocally—hints at Agamben), Hardt and Negri dis-
miss in Empire the Bartlebian politics of refusal: The refusal is only a begin-
ning and is “in itself empty”; solitary refusal “leads only to a kind of social
suicide.” “What we need,” they conclude, “is to create a new social body, which
is a project that goes well beyond refusal. Our lines of flight, our exodus
must be constituent and create a real alternative. Beyond the simple refusal, or
as part of that refusal, we need also to construct a new mode of life and above
all a new community.”72 In Commonwealth, they insist that Agamben’s analysis
of biopolitics falls back on Heidegger: “Agamben transposes biopolitics in a
theological-political key, claiming that the only possibility of rupture with
biopower resides in ‘inoperative’ activity (inoperosità), a blank refusal that
recalls Heidegger’s notion of Gelassenheit, completely incapable of construct-
ing an alternative.”73
From a different perspective, Slavoj Žižek insistently also chastens
Agamben’s messianic politics for renouncing the risks and responsibilities of
revolutionary emancipative politics and for being therefore a “utopian long-
ing for the ganz Andere (wholly Other)” and a “redemptive leap into a non-
mediated Otherness.”74 Agamben’s political philosophy presents for Žižek
“not so much a pessimism but a ‘negative’ teleology, in which the entire
Western tradition is approaching its own disastrous end, the only solution
to which is to await some ‘divine violence.’”75 Against Agamben’s reading of
Benjamin’s notion of “divine violence” in State of Exception,76 Žižek states:
“But what is Benjamin talking about? Revolution—that is, a moment when
you take the ‘sovereign’ (this is Benjamin’s word) responsibility for killing
someone. What does violence mean for Agamben? He responds with ‘playing
with the law’ and so on. Forgive me for being a vulgar empiricist, but I don’t
know what that means in the concrete sense.”77
I do not claim that Hardt, Negri, and Žižek are representative of “leftist
politics”; in their critique of Agamben, however, they do exemplify a com-
mon and recurrent frame. What these two brief examples show is that most
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rather, on what the world will be like after His coming: Everything will be the
same as now, only a little bit different. This tiny difference, Agamben glosses,
introduces a supplementary possibility in the irreparability of the world; it
restores the world to its potentiality (see CV, 46–47) and therefore represents,
de la Durantaye adds, the motor of the coming politics, “because it represents
the effort to see the world as nothing more than it is—to construct world
politics not on the basis of a sacred order to come, but instead on a profane
order that is already right before our eyes and that is the only world we have
ever known. . . . We have only this world and this life, and we have no time to
waste.”81 We do not need utopias. What we need is to uncover that “little bit”
that lies hidden in the potentialities of the present.
This “little bit” takes the name, from The Time that Remains onward, of rest
(resto). As we have seen, the messianic rest is the division that divides the division;
it is what prevents the parts and the whole from coinciding with each other:
The rest “is not the object of salvation, but rather its instrument, what properly
speaking makes it possible” (TR, 58). It constitutes a surplus of the whole with
respect to the parts and of the parts with respect to the whole; it is the unsavable
that makes salvation possible. By rehearsing the parable on the messianic king-
dom in The Time that Remains, Agamben emphasizes that the “little bit,” the tiny
difference, is decisive, insofar as it “results from the fact that I have grasped my
disconnection from chronological time” (TR, 69), that I am in the operative time
of now, the time of true action.82 Another name for this “little bit” in The Coming
Community is agio (ease), whose etymology denotes the space nearby (ad-jacens,
adjacentia), the empty space in which it is possible to move freely, in a spatial and
temporal sense (ad-agio means “slowly” in Italian): at ease. This agio names the
task of the coming politics, which Agamben summarizes in Hölderlin’s words:
“The free use of the proper is the most difficult task” (CV, 25).83
Notes
1. Antonio Negri, “Il mostro politico: Nuda vita e potenza,” in Il desiderio del mostro:
Dal circo al laboratorio alla politica, ed. Ubaldo Fadini, Antonio Negri, and Charles
T. Wolfe (Rome: Manifestolibri, 2002), 10.
2. Antonio Negri, “Il frutto maturo della redenzione,” Il Manifesto, July 26, 2003, 21.
3. Andreas Kalyvas, “The Sovereign Weaver: Beyond the Camp,” in Politics,
Metaphysics, and Death: Essays on Giorgio Agamben’s “Homo Sacer,” ed. Andrew Norris
(Durham: Duke University Press, 2005), 116.
230
231
17. Giorgio Agamben, Signatura rerum. Sul metodo (Turin: Bollati Boringhieri, 2008;
trans. Luca d’Isanto and Kevin Attell, The Signature of All Things: On Method [New York:
Zone Books, 2009]).
18. Cf. Arcagök, “Whatever Image”; Vijay Devadas and Jane Mummery, “ Community
Without Community,” borderlands 6 (2007), http://www.borderlands.net.au/
vol6no1_2007/devadasmummery_intro.htm.
19. Cf. René ten Bos, “Giorgio Agamben and the Community Without Identity,” in
Contemporary Organization Theory, ed. Campbell Jones and Rolland Munro (Malden,
Mass.: Blackwell, 2005), 20.
20. This is a recurrent argumentative pattern in Agamben’s thought, borrowed, via Hei-
degger, from the incipit of Friedrich Hölderlin’s Pathmos: “Nah ist/Und schwer zu fassen
der Gott./Wo aber Gefahr ist, wächst/Das Rettende auch” [The god/Is near, and hard to
grasp./But where there is danger,/A rescuing element grows as well] (in Sämtliche Werke,
vol. 2 [Munich: G. Müller, 1913–23], 180).
21. See, for example, LaCapra’s “Approaching Limit Events.”
22. Agamben, Homo sacer, 211.
23. de la Durantaye, Giorgio Agamben, 4. As de la Durantaye acutely notes, even if the
term was adopted by Agamben only in the late 1980s, it constitutes the evolution of a
permanent reflection that revolved first around the notion of “infancy.” See Giorgio
Agamben, Infanzia e storia. Distruzione dell’esperienza e origine della storia (Turin: Einaudi,
1979; trans. Liz Heron, Infancy and History: On the Destruction of Experience [London:
Verso, 1996]); and Giorgio Agamben, Il linguaggio e la morte. Un seminario sul luogo della
negatività (Turin: Einaudi, 1982; trans. Karen Pinkus and Michael Hardt, Language and
Death: The Place of Negatività [Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1991]).
24. Giorgio Agamben, “La potenza del pensiero,” in La potenza del pensiero. Saggi
e conferenze (Vicenza: Neri Pozza, 2005), 273–87 (trans. Daniel Heller-Roazen, “On
Potentiality,” in Potentialities: Collected Essays in Philosophy [Stanford: Stanford University
Press, 1999], 177–84). The Italian text was published after the English translation, with
some additional reworking; therefore, the two texts do not correspond literally.
25. Agamben, “La potenza del pensiero,” 285.
26. For Agamben’s debt to Heidegger’s notion of Dasein in regard to potentiality, see
Paolo Bartoloni, “The Stanza of the Self: On Agamben’s Potentiality,” Contretemps 5
(December 2004): 8–15; and Jean-Philippe Deranty, “Agamben’s Challenge to Normative
Theories of Modern Rights,” borderlands 3, no. 1 (2004), http://www.borderlands.net.au/
vol3no1_2004/deranty_agambnschall.htm.
27. Giorgio Agamben, “L’opera dell’uomo,” in La potenza del pensiero, 365–76. The
essay was first published in the journal Forme di vita 1 (2004), thus after the publication of
Potentialities. The English translation, “The Work of Man,” was published in Calarco and
DeCaroli, Giorgio Agamben, 1–10.
28. See Agamben, “L’opera dell’uomo,” 365–66. See also Giorgio Agamben, Il regno e la
gloria. Per una genealogia teologica dell’economia e del governo, Homo sacer, vol. 2/2 (Vicenza:
Neri Pozza, 2007), 269 (trans. Lorenzo Chiesa and Matteo Mandarini, The Kingdom and
the Glory: For a Theological Genealogy of Economy and Government [Stanford: Stanford
232
University Press, 2011]). In Remnants of Auschwitz, this lack of essence, this being that is
pure potentiality, translates into the axiom, taken from Blanchot, that “the human is the
indestructible that can be infinitely destructed.” See Giorgio Agamben, Quel che resta di
Auschwitz. L’archivio e il testimone, Homo sacer, vol. 3 (Turin: Bollati Boringhieri, 1998; trans.
Daniel Heller-Roazen, Remnants of Auschwitz [New York: Zone, 1999]).
29. Giorgio Agamben, “Bartleby o della contingenza,” in Gilles Deleuze and G iorgio
Agamben, Bartleby, la formula della creazione (Macerata, Italy: Quodlibet, 1993), 76 (trans.
Daniel Heller-Roazen, “Bartleby, or On Contingency,” in Agamben, Potentialities, 243–74).
Cf. Catherine Mills, The Philosophy of Agamben (Stocksfield, England: Acumen, 2008), 32.
30. Cf. Stefano Franchi, “Passive Politics,” Contretemps 5 (December 2004): 30–41; and
Wall, Radical Passivity.
31. Cf. Wall, Radical Passivity, 156.
32. Cf. Devadas and Mummery, “Community Without Community.”
33. See Giorgio Agamben, “Idea del potere,” in Idea della prosa (Macerata, Italy:
Quodlibet, 2002), 51–52 (trans. Sam Whitsitt and Michael Sullivan, Idea of Prose [ Albany:
State University of New York Press, 1995]); Agamben, Homo sacer, 52–56; Giorgio
Agamben, “Su ciò che possiamo non fare,” in Nudità (Rome: Nottetempo, 2009), 67–70
(trans. David Kishik and Stefan Pedatella, “On What We Can Not Do,” in Nudities
[Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2011], 43–45). As de la Durantaye writes, “The
problem of potentiality is not a problem among others in Homo sacer; it is the problem
that gives its logic, and its paradoxes, to all others. And as the reference to Bartleby
makes clear, it involves thinking about potentiality in an unhabitual fashion”
(Giorgio Agamben, 233).
34. Cf. Colin McQuillan, “The Political Life in Giorgio Agamben,” Kritikos 2 ( July 2005),
http://intertheory.org/mcquillan.htm; and Jenny Edkins, “Whatever Politics,” in Calarco
and DeCaroli, Giorgio Agamben, 77.
35. Giorgio Agamben, Mezzi senza fine. Note sulla politica (Turin: Bollati Boringhieri,
1996), 17 (trans. Vincenzo Binetti and Cesare Casarino, Means Without Ends: Notes on
Politics [Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2000]).
36. Cf. Deranty, “Agamben’s Challenge to Normative Theories of Modern Rights.”
37. A note explains that this second, aphoristic part should be read as a commentary
to §9 of Heidegger’s Sein und Zeit (Das Thema der Analytik des Daseins [The theme of the
analytic of Dasein]) and to proposition 6.44 of Wittgenstein’s Tractatus (“Nicht wie die
Welt ist, ist das Mystische, sondern daß sie ist” [It is not how things are in the world that is
mystical, but that it exists]) (CV, 72).
38. Love is a theme that recurs, in a minor mode, in many of Agamben’s texts; see
“Idea dell’amore” [Idea of love], in Agamben, Idea della prosa, 41. But most of all love
appears in the theory of knowledge to be found in Provençal love poetry, analyzed first
in the chapter “La parola e il fantasma” [Word and phantasm], in Agamben, Stanze,
73–150. Giorgio Agamben rehearses this theory in various posterior texts, from Categorie
italiane. Studi di poetica (Venice: Marsilio, 1996; trans. Daniel Heller-Roazen, The End of
the Poem: Studies in Poetics [Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1999]), to Profanazioni
(Rome: Nottetempo, 2005; trans. Jeff Fort, Profanations [New York: Zone Books, 2007]),
233
to Ninfe (Turin: Bollati Boringhieri, 2007) and finally Nudità. For a partial analysis of love
in Agamben, see Julian Wolfreys, “Face to Face with Agamben; or, The Other in Love,”
in The Work of Giorgio Agamben: Law, Literature, Life, ed. Justin Clemens, Nicholas Heron,
and Alex Murray (Edinburg: Edinburg University Press, 2008), 149–63.
39. Cf. Arcagök, “Whatever Image.”
40. The short chapter “Idea dell’amore” in Agamben’s Idea della prosa thus defines love:
“to live in the intimacy of an extraneous person, and not in order to approach her, to
know her, but rather to keep her extraneous, even remote: inapparent—so inapparent
that her name contains everything. And, even in discomfort, day after day to be n othing
but the always open space, the timeless light in which that one, that thing, remains
exposed and confined” (41).
41. Giorgio Agamben’s “La passione della fatticità” (“The Passion of Facticity”) is a text
from a conference held at the Collège international de philosophie in Paris in 1987 and
published first in French in the Cahiers du Collège international de philosophie 6 (1988): 63–84;
then published in English as “The Passion of Facticity” in 1999 in Agamben, P otentialities,
185–204; then republished in French as the first part of Giorgio Agamben and Valeria
Mazza, L’ombre de l’amour: Le concept d’amour chez Heidegger (Paris: Payot e Rivages, 2003;
the second part is the essay “L’amour en retrait” by Mazza); and finally published in Ital-
ian in 2005 in Agamben, La potenza del pensiero, 289–320.
42. See Agamben, “La passione della fatticità,” in Agamben, La potenza del pensiero,
315–17.
43. Ibid., 318.
44. de la Durantaye, Giorgio Agamben, 199.
45. Cf. Bartoloni, “Stanza of the Self,” 13.
46. Cf. Arcagök, “Whatever Image”; Bartoloni, “Stanza of the Self,” 13.
47. However, a critique of chronological time grounded in Benjamin’s analysis of
historical time marks each and every one of Giorgio Agamben’s books, beginning with
the last chapter of his first book, L’uomo senza contenuto (Macerata, Italy: Quodlibet, 1994;
trans. Georgia Albert, The Man Without Content [Stanford: Stanford University Press,
1999]). Cf. also, for example, Agamben, “La parola e il fantasma”; the whole argument of
Agamben, Infanzia e storia; Giorgio Agamben, “Idea dell’epoca” [Idea of epoch], in Idea
della prosa, 71–72; and every installment of the Homo sacer series.
48. See Giorgio Agamben, Il tempo che resta. Un commento alla “Lettera ai romani” (Turin:
Bollati Boringhieri, 2000), 62 (trans. Patricia Dailey, The Time that Remains: A Commentary
on the Letter to the Romans [Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2005]); hereafter cited as
TR in the text.
49. Walter Benjamin, “Über den Begriff der Geschichte,” in Tiedemann and
Schweppenhäuser, Gesammelte Schriften, 1(2): 704 (trans. “On the Concept of History,” in
Jennings, Selected Writings, 4:397).
50. Giorgio Agamben, “Che cos’è il contemporaneo?” [What is a contemporary?], in
Nudità, 21; emphasis in the original.
51. See Giorgio Agamben, “Idea della politica,” in Idea della prosa, 59–60.
52. See Alexandre Kojève, “Les romans de la sagesse,” Critique 60 (1952): 387–97.
234
53. The Kojève–Bataille querelle about the end of history appears, in Agamben’s
oeuvre, already in an excursus of Agamben, Il linguaggio e la morte, 64–67; and takes a
central place in two chapters of Giorgio Agamben, L’aperto. L’uomo e l’animale ( Turin:
Bollati Boringhieri, 2002), 12–20 (trans. Kevin Attell, The Open: Man and Animal [ Stanford:
Stanford University Press, 2004]). The brief excursus in Il linguaggio e la morte discusses the
motif of the “sage at the end of history,” and it can therefore be argued that d ésœuvrement
is here already contained in nuce, though Agamben adopted the term i noperativity only
after his engagement with Nancy.
54. Agamben, Homo sacer, 71.
55. There is here a little problem in the translation from French into Italian and English:
Whereas désoeuvré is a deverbal, passive form, denoting dynamicity and, through the
prefix de-, privation (meaning therefore “deprived of ergon”), the Italian inoperoso and the
English inoperative are denominal, active forms, denoting static and, through the prefix
in-, inversion (meaning therefore “that has/presents/possesses no ergon”). I owe this
insight to Tommaso Detti. For a brief discussion of the translation of the term and its
different uses in Queneau, Kojève, Bataille, Nancy, Blanchot, and Agamben, see Franchi,
“Passive Politics,” 33ff.
56. Agamben, Mezzi senza fine, 109.
57. For a poignant critique of the philosophy of the als ob, see TR, 38–42.
58. See also Agamben, Il regno e la gloria, 271ff.
59. See also ibid., 184–85.
60. Significative is that, Agamben points out, Martin Luther translated St. Paul’s
katargesis as Af hebung, a term that was going to mark and determine the history of
modern philosophy. See TR, 94ff.
61. Giorgio Agamben, “Il corpo glorioso” [The glorious body], in Nudità, 144.
62. Agamben, Il regno e la gloria, 274.
63. Giorgio Agamben, “Elogio della profanazione,” in Profanazioni, 106 (trans. “In
Praise of Profanation,” in Profanations).
64. All these concepts, as Catherine Mills points out, must be related to an idea of
politics as the suspension of the relation between means and ends and as the redefinition
of human relations with objects (Philosophy of Agamben, 108).
65. See Giorgio Agamben, Stato di eccezione, Homo sacer, vol. 2/1 (Turin: Bollati
Boringhieri, 2003), 81–83 (trans. Kevin Attell, State of Exception [Chicago: University of
Chicago Press, 2005]); Walter Benjamin, “Franz Kaf ka. Zur zehnten Wiederkehr seines
Todestages,” in Tiedemann and Schweppenhäuser, Gesammelte Schriften, 2(2): 437 (trans.
“Franz Kaf ka: On the Tenth Anniversary of His Death,” in Jennings, Selected Writings, 2:815).
66. Agamben, Stato di eccezione, 83.
67. See Agamben, “Elogio della profanazione,” 86–87. Agamben’s interest in play comes
of course from Benjamin and is present from his early works. Cf. the chapter “Mme
Panchkoucke o la Fata del giocattolo” [Mme Panchkoucke or the toy fairy], in the second
part of Agamben, Stanze, 65–71; the chapters “Il paese dei balocchi. Riflessioni sulla
storia e sul gioco” [The land of toys. Reflections on history and play] and “Fiaba e storia.
Considerazioni sul presepe” [Fairy tale and history. Remarks on the crèche], in Agamben,
235
Infanzia e storia, 67–92, 133–40; and “Idea dello studio” [Idea of study], in Agamben, Idea
della prosa, 43–45.
68. Giorgio Agamben, “Una fame da bue. Considerazioni sul sabato, la festa e l’inoperosità”
[Hungry as a bull. Remarks on Shabbat, festivity, and inoperosity], in Nudità, 154.
69. See Agamben, Il regno e la gloria, 262; see also de la Durantaye, Giorgio Agamben, 144.
70. See Formenti, “Immagini del Forse.”
71. See Deranty, “Agamben’s Challenge to Normative Theories of Modern Rights.”
Deranty equates Agamben’s rejection of all normative distinction, and especially his
rejection of any representability for the coming community, to a “negative theology” and
finally to the evanescence of politics.
72. Michael Hardt and Antonio Negri, Empire (Cambridge: Harvard University Press,
2000), 204; emphases added.
73. Michael Hardt and Antonio Negri, Commonwealth (Cambridge: Belknap, 2009),
58. Negri’s accusation of Heideggerism, together with much stronger criticisms of the
notion of “bare life,” recur in various texts; see, for example, Negri, “Il mostro politico,”
already quoted, and, among others, Antonio Negri, “Giorgio Agamben: The Discrete
Taste of the Dialectic,” trans. Matteo Mandarini, in Calarco and DeCaroli, Giorgio
Agamben, 109–25; and the interview Antonio Negri gave to Cesare Casarino, “It’s a Power-
ful Life: A Conversation on Contemporary Philosophy,” Cultural Critique 57 (Spring 2004):
151–81. On Negri’s critique of Agamben, see Brett Neilson, “Potenza Nuda? S overeignty,
Biopolitics, Capitalism,” Contretemps 5 (December 2004): 63–78.
74. Slavoj Žižek, “Objet a as Inherent Limit to Capitalism: On Michael Hardt and
Antonio Negri,” lacan.com (2005), http://www.lacan.com/zizmultitude.htm.
75. SOFT TARGETS, Divine Violence and Liberated Territories: SOFT TARGETS
Talks with Slavoj Žižek, Los Angeles, March 14, 2007, http://www.softtargetsjournal.
com/web/zizek.php.
76. See the chapter “Gigantomachia intorno a un vuoto” [Gigantomachy concerning a
void], in Agamben, Stato di eccezione, 68–83.
77. SOFT TARGETS, “Divine Violence and Liberated Territories.” Žižek’s intense
and manifold engagement with Agamben’s philosophy cannot be explored or even
summarized here. For an introduction on the central issue of violence and excep-
tion, see Tzuchien Tho, “Politics and the Void: Giorgio Agamben and Slavoj Žižek on
the State of Emergency,” in Philosophy Against Empire, ed. Tony Smith, Harry van der
Linden, and Jeffrey Paris (Charlottesville: Philosophy Documentation Center, 2006),
139–54.
78. Cf. Scholem to Benjamin, ca. 10–12 July 1934, in Walter Benjamin and Gershom
Scholem, Briefwechsel 1933–1940 (Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp, 1980), 154 (trans. Gary
Smith and Andre Lefevere, The Correspondence of Walter Benjamin and Gershom Scholem,
1932–1940 [Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1992]).
79. Ernst Bloch, Spuren (Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp, 1967), 260 (trans. Anthony A.
Nassar, Traces [Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2006]); my translation.
236
80. Walter Benjamin, “In der Sonne,” in Tiedemann and Schweppenhäuser, Gesammelte
Schriften, 4(1): 419 (trans. “In the Sun,” in Jennings, Selected Writings, 2:664).
81. de la Durantaye, Giorgio Agamben, 382.
82. On the notion of “rest” or “remnant,” see ibid., 298–302.
83. See also Agamben, “La passione della fatticità,” 319. For Hölderlin’s quotation—
“Der freie Gebrauch des Eigenes das Schwerste ist”—see Friedrich Hölderlin to Casimir
Ulrich Boehlendorff, 4 December 1801, in Hölderlin, Sämtliche Werke, 5:320.
237