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GLOBAL POLITICAL SOCIOLOGY
Global Crisis
Theory, Method and
the Covid-19 Pandemic
Nadine Klopf
Global Political Sociology
Series Editors
Dirk Nabers, International Political Sociology, Kiel University, Kiel,
Germany
Marta Fernández, Institute of International Relations, Pontifical
Catholic University of Rio de Janeiro, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
Chengxin Pan, School of Humanities and Social Sciences, Deakin
University, Waurn Ponds, Australia
David B. MacDonald, Department of Political Science,
University of Guelph, Guelph, ON, Canada
This new series is designed in response to the pressing need to better
understand growing complex global, transnational, and local issues that
stubbornly refuse to be pigeon-holed into clearly-defined established
disciplinary boxes. The new series distinguishes its visions in three ways:
(1) It is inspired by genuine sociological, anthropological and philo-
sophical perspectives in International Relations (IR), (2) it rests on an
understanding of the social as politically constituted, and the social and
the political are always ontologically inseparable, and (3) it conceptual-
izes the social as fundamentally global, in that it is spatially dispersed and
temporarily contingent. In the books published in the series, the hetero-
geneity of the world’s peoples and societies is acknowledged as axiomatic
for an understanding of world politics.
Nadine Klopf
Global Crisis
Theory, Method and the Covid-19 Pandemic
Nadine Klopf
Research Group on International
Political Sociology
Kiel University
Kiel, Germany
ISSN 2946-5559 ISSN 2946-5567 (electronic)

Global Political Sociology
ISBN 978-3-031-25139-9 ISBN 978-3-031-25140-5 (eBook)
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-25140-5
© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer
Nature Switzerland AG 2023
This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the
Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights
of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on
microfilms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information storage and
retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology
now known or hereafter developed.
The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc.
in this publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such
names are exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for
general use.
The publisher, the authors, and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and informa-
tion in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither
the publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, expressed or implied, with
respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been
made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps
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This Palgrave Macmillan imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature
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The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland
For Tom Neblung
Acknowledgments
This book benefited from my graduate studies and the early phase of
my doctoral research at the Research Group on International Political
Sociology at Kiel University. It largely presents a revised and extended
version of my master thesis. I wish to thank Anca Pusca and Hemapriya
Eswanth at Palgrave Macmillan as well as the series editors Dirk Nabers,
Marta Fernández, Chengxin Pan, and David B. MacDonald for making
this publication possible.
My colleagues in the Research Group on International Political
Sociology deserve particular acknowledgment for providing an always
supportive but equally critical environment. I am therefore grateful to
Merve Genç and Jan Zeemann as well as Frank A. Stengel for his critique
on early theoretical arguments and his continuing mentoring. Malte
Kayßer provided sophisticated and much appreciated feedback on large
parts of the book. I would also like to thank Paula Diehl for her support
during my position as her research assistant at Kiel University.
Moreover, I benefited from presenting and discussing my research at
the 2022 ISA Annual Convention in Nashville, TN and the 2022 EISA
Pan-European Conference on International Relations in Athens. My grat-
itude therefore extends to Patrick Thaddeus Jackson and Erica Resende
whose feedback as chairs and discussants helped me to refine my argu-
ments. I would also like to express my gratitude to Soian and Alex for
their support and endurance in seemingly endless discussions about social
theory and struggles in everyday academic life.
vii
viii ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I am indebted to Dirk Nabers for his continuous support throughout

the last years. I thoroughly enjoyed our theoretical discussions, which
were of invaluable worth for advancing the theoretical arguments
presented in this book and developing an academic rigor that has hope-
fully become visible in my approach to dislocation. I benefited hugely
from Dirk’s always kind but equally merciless critique. Notwithstanding
his academic ruthlessness, I met Dirk as an empathetic and understanding
person and I am thankful for his always considerate advice.
Finally, this book is dedicated to my partner Tom Neblung who
deserves my greatest appreciation. I would not have finished this book
without his love and support both in times of academic inspiration and
personal struggle. Thank you for being the miracle that completes my
dislocated identity.
Kiel Nadine Klopf

Introduction
It seems as if our world is shaped by crises that unravel habitual patterns

of behavior, disrupt ingrained social practices and institutions, and thus
enable us to question established political practices as well as our own
actions. Imagining a world without crises appears more like a paradisi-
acal conjecture, with crises being perhaps the most loyal companion that
persistently confronts us. Crises never seem to vanish but, quite the
contrary, regardless of how stable social orders are thought to be they
are sooner or later overtaken by crises. That is, crises are not merely
exceptional phenomena but characterize a permanent state of society. It
is therefore not surprising that crisis has always been a subject of research
in various disciplines, yet with different and sometimes controversial
perspectives as to what is actually meant by the term.
Already in the early days of crisis research within International Rela-
tions (IR), Charles Hermann declared that “only the vaguest common
meaning appears attached to the concept” (Hermann 1969, 410), which
has not been resolved during the last decades but, on the contrary, as
Colin Hay and Tom Hunt note almost 50 years later, “[i]t is clear that
the language of crisis has, if anything, been cheapened” (Hay and Hunt
2018, 6) such that it can rightly be concluded that crisis “remains one of
the most illusive, vague, imprecise, malleable, open-ended and generally
unspecified concepts” (Hay 1996, 421). It seems that what prolifer-
ates in particular is the observation of the contested nature of crisis, as
despite notable contributions that have advanced our understanding of
ix
x INTRODUCTION
the term, we have not yet arrived at the point where it becomes possible
to thoroughly theorize the specificity of crisis. What remains absent is a
systematization that enables us to disentangle the diverse dimensions that
crises are considered to be located at.
Traditional approaches are particularly interested in how the behavior
of decision-makers is altered during a crisis in contrast to periods of
non-crisis whereby crises are restricted to ephemeral occurrences that
only temporarily destabilize an otherwise stable social order (Brecher
and Wilkenfeld 1982; Hermann 1969). Nevertheless, already these early
approaches put forward that “decision-makers behave according to their
interpretation of the situation, not according to its ‘objective’ character”
(Hermann 1972, 12). While still cleaving to an individualist perspective
on foreign policy behavior, decision-making approaches open the way
towards an understanding of crises that do not regard the latter as mere
natural occurrences.
This becomes more accentuated in subsequent constructivist research
that foregrounds the socially constructed character of crisis, arguing that
crises are particularly “what we make of them” (Hay 2013, 23). Notable
contributions depart from specifying crises only as temporary occur-
rences and are explicitly concerned with the structural underpinning that
provides the basis for subsequent crisis constructions. Jutta Weldes, for
instance, defines crises as socially constructed threats to state identities
that are rooted in existing antagonistic relationships which shape how
crises are constructed (Weldes 1999, 41). She thus prominently unveils
how the Cuban missile crisis can only be understood with recourse to
established U.S.–Soviet relations that rendered possible the construction
of these events as a threat to U.S. identity (Weldes 1999, 219). Colin Hay
also emphasizes a structural dimension of crises when defining the latter
as moments of decisive intervention that are made in response to an accu-
mulation of contradictions which, however, merely present the structural
precondition for crisis and cannot be equated with crisis as such (Hay
1999, 324).
Bob Jessop’s recent critical realist research foregrounds this struc-
tural dimension as he stresses that these emerging contradictions stem
from an underlying ontological dimension that comprises the interac-
tion of causal mechanisms that might potentially develop towards crisis
(Jessop 2015, 239). Whereas Jessop remains concerned with an inde-
pendently existing materiality as the structural precondition for a crisis,
Dirk Nabers’ discourse theoretical approach puts forward how a crisis
INTRODUCTION xi
must be understood as a constitutive structural feature of society, without,

however, falling back on any form of independent materiality. He concep-
tualizes structural crisis through the Laclauian notion of dislocation and
relates crisis to the “constantly disrupted structure of society or even the
very impossibility of society” (Nabers 2019, 265) whereby dislocation is
understood as the failure of social structures “to achieve constitution”
(Laclau 1990, 47). Instead of treating these varying approaches as utterly
incompatible, the emphasis should instead be on how the development
of crisis research points towards the conceptualization of crisis as a multi-
layered concept. The following question thus becomes inevitable and
provides the starting point for developing a multidimensional framework
of global crisis: How is it possible to systematize crisis?
In an increasingly interconnected world, it has become obvious that
crises cannot be restricted to the national domain. Ecological threats,
climate change, and biological hazards cannot be stopped at national
borders, but also more traditional matters of crisis theorizing such as
military conflicts, economic adversity, and the proliferation of weapons of
mass destruction might well affect the world at large. However, it is not
only global interdependence that requires an analysis of the global char-
acter of crises, but every social structure must in principle be approached
as partially global. The central argument is that international, transna-
tional, national, and regional social structures partake in a potentially
infinite global structure. Communities, nations, regions, and international
organizations are historically contingent constructs; they are formed from
a global structure that constitutes the social realm. Nabers and Stengel
therefore rightly mention that the social must be approached as funda-
mentally global as it is “spatially dispersed and temporarily contingent”
(Nabers and Stengel 2019, 14). This is not meant to downplay the
significance of non-global relations, but conceptualizing politics as funda-
mentally global highlights that meaning remains partial and interminable.
The infinitude of the social hence stresses how it is impossible for any
identity to be utterly determined and unalterable. This does not release
us from analyzing boundaries as every social group requires demarca-
tions to stabilize its identity. However, as boundaries remain subject to
contestation and transformation, we have to accept an essential impos-
sibility of final closure, the contestability of meaning, and the potential
instability of every articulated identity. Nonetheless, a pure global struc-
ture does not exist, but it is always partially embedded in international,
xii INTRODUCTION
transnational, national, and regional relations. The global character of

crises hence relates to the mutual penetration of global and non-global
social structures.
Structure of the Book

The book aims at developing a theoretical framework that allows to
systematize global crises. In order to do so, established conceptualiza-
tions of crisis are first scrutinized which renders visible the positioning of
crisis on different dimensions during the development of crisis research
(Chapter 1). Against this background, Nabers’ approach to crisis as dislo-
cation is combined with an ontological differentiation of dislocation. This
makes it possible to advance a multidimensional framework of crisis as
dislocation. As dislocation does not operate as an isolated concept, it
first becomes necessary to conceptualize the discursive structures that
make up the social realm and provide the basis for theorizing disloca-
tion (Chapter 2). Building on this discursive reading of the social, three
levels of crisis are discerned in the subsequent chapters, theorizing crisis
at a permanent, recurring, and ephemeral level.
Following Heidegger’s differentiation between ontology and ontics,
this temporal dimension is supplemented with ontological considera-
tions, leading to the differentiation of permanent ontological, recurring
ontic, and ephemeral ontic crisis. The permanent ontological dimension
is concerned with the potential structural makeup of society and resonates
with Nabers’ definition of crisis as dislocation. Permanent ontological
dislocation thus presents a structural characteristic of society, depicting
the latter’s impossibility to acquire complete constitution (Chapter 3).
This ontological dimension cannot be encountered directly, but it must
become manifest at an ontic level. As ontological dislocation is a neces-
sary feature of every society, the latter remains a precarious construct
which becomes visible in recurring attempts to acquire stable identities
and, accordingly, in the recurring establishment of antagonistic relation-
ships that are constructed as sources of instability. Even if one antagonistic
relationship was successfully destroyed, antagonism would merely recur
in the construction of different antagonistic others, such that identity
remains recurringly destabilized. Dislocation must hence be delineated
at a permanent ontological and recurring ontic level whereby the latter
presents particular manifestations of the former (Chapter 4).
INTRODUCTION xiii
Lastly, the existence of temporary crises, which prominently shape

established crisis research, is in no way disregarded. As Weldes has already
put forward, the construction of ephemeral crises must be traced back to
how societies are constituted, which again leads us to an understanding
of crisis as dislocation. However, it is not only observed that something
is constructed as a crisis but by developing a distinct process of crisis
construction, it becomes possible to scrutinize how ephemeral crises are
constructed. This is achievable by advancing an ephemeral ontic dimen-
sion of dislocation, which relies on both its permanent and recurring
dimension (Chapter 5). Dislocation can thus be crystallized in a discursive
framework that distinguishes between permanent dislocation, its mani-
festation in recurring dislocation, and the construction of ephemeral
dislocation.
Every analysis must take this multidimensional character of dislocation
into account. The theoretical framework is therefore linked to methodical
considerations that render it possible to utilize dislocation as a frame-
work for practical analyses (Chapter 6). The multidimensionality of crises
is finally analyzed in the discourse around the so-called Coronavirus Crisis
in the United States which has been constructed as disrupting entrenched
social structures to an almost unprecedented degree. The findings show
how a multidimensional approach to crises reveals the impact of natural-
ized social structures, entrenched identities, and established antagonistic
relations on crisis constructions. It does not restrict our understanding
to the immediate period of crisis construction, but a multidimensional
approach sheds light on preexisting deficiencies and structural inequali-
ties as well as on the tasks ahead which politics is burdened with in its
continued endeavors to achieve stability (Chapter 7).
References
Brecher, Michael, and Jonathan Wilkenfeld. 1982. “Crises in World Politics.”
World Politics 34 (3): 380–417.
Hay, Colin. 1996. “From Crisis to Catastrophe? The Ecological Pathologies of
the Liberal-Democratic State Form.” The European Journal of Social Science
Research 9 (4): 421–34.
Hay, Colin. 1999. “Crisis and the Structural Transformation of the State: Inter-
rogating the Process of Change.” British Journal of Politics and International
Relations 1 (3): 317–44.
xiv INTRODUCTION
Hay, Colin. 2013. “Treating the Symptom Not the Condition: Crisis Definition,
Deficit Reduction and the Search for a New British Growth Model.” British
Journal of Politics and International Relations 15 (1): 23–37.
Hay, Colin, and Tom Hunt. 2018. “Introduction: The Coming Crisis, The Gath-
ering Storm.” In The Coming Crisis, edited by Colin Hay and Tom Hunt,
1–10. Cham: Palgrave Macmillan.
Hermann, Charles F. 1969. “International Crisis as a Situational Variable.” In
International Politics and Foreign Policy, edited by James N. Rosenau, 409–
21. New York: Free Press.
Hermann, Charles F. 1972. “Some Issues in the Study of International Crisis.”
In International Crisis: Insights from Behavioral Research, edited by Charles
F. Hermann, 3–17. New York: Free Press.
Jessop, Bob. 2015. “The Symptomatology of Crises, Reading Crises and
Learning From Them: Some Critical Realist Reflections.” Journal of Critical
Realism 14 (3): 238–71.
Laclau, Ernesto. 1990. “New Reflections on the Revolution of Our Time.” In
New Reflections on the Revolution of Our Time, edited by Ernesto Laclau,
3–85. London: Verso.
Nabers, Dirk. 2019. “Discursive Dislocation: Toward a Poststructuralist Theory
of Crisis in Global Politics.” New Political Science 41 (2): 263–78.
Nabers, Dirk, and Frank A. Stengel. 2019. “International/Global Political
Sociology.” The Oxford Research Encyclopedia of International Studies, 1–28.
Weldes, Jutta. 1999. Constructing National Interests: The United States and the
Cuban Missile Crisis. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.
Contents
1 From Crisis Decision-Making to Discourse Theory 1

1.1 Crisis Decision-Making 1
1.2 Constructivism 7
1.3 Critical Realism 15
1.4 Discourse Theory 19
References 23
2 The Discursive Character of the Social 29
2.1 Foundations of Discourse Theory 30
2.2 Discourse and the Discursive 41
References 45
3 The Permanent Dimension of Dislocation 47
3.1 The Ontological Differentiation of Crisis 47
3.2 The Ambiguity of Dislocation 49
3.3 The Development of Permanent Dislocation 60
3.4 A Definition of Permanent Dislocation 66
References 71
4 The Recurring Dimension of Dislocation 79
4.1 The Development of Recurring Dislocation 79
4.2 A Definition of Recurring Dislocation 91
References 104
xv
xvi CONTENTS
5 The Ephemeral Dimension of Dislocation 107

5.1 Ephemeral Dislocation and Crisis 107
5.2 A Definition of Ephemeral Dislocation 112
5.3 The Construction of Ephemeral Dislocation 115
References 122
6 Discourse Analysis 125
6.1 Corpus Linguistics 129
6.2 Rhetorical Analysis 137
References 148
7 The Coronavirus Crisis 151
7.1 The Coronavirus Crisis as Ephemeral Dislocation 151
7.2 The Antagonistic Construction of the Coronavirus Crisis 169
7.3 Permanent and Recurring Dislocation
in the Coronavirus Crisis 175
References 210
Conclusion 213
Bibliography 217
Index 235
List of Figures
Fig. 7.1 Covid-19 in U.S. governmental statements,

01/2020–01/2021 153
Fig. 7.2 Frequent characteristics of the United States in U.S.
governmental statements, 01/2020–01/2021 160
xvii
List of Tables
Table 2.1 Hjelmslev’s sign model 32

Table 2.2 Myth in Barthes’ sign model 37
Table 7.1 Frequent words in U.S. governmental statements,
01/2020–01/2021 (categorized) 152
xix
CHAPTER 1
From Crisis Decision-Making to Discourse

Theory
1.1 Crisis Decision-Making

While the concept of crisis has long been found in various disciplines,
including historical, sociological, medical, and psychological research, one
of the earliest theoretical engagements within International Relations
can be traced back to Charles F. Hermann, whose work has become
pioneering for subsequent crisis research. Hermann approaches crisis from
a decision-making perspective, being particularly interested in how the
behavior of decision-makers is altered during crisis in contrast to periods
of non-crisis. In his seminal definition, Hermann specifies crises as events
that are unanticipated, threaten major national values, and restrict the
time available for response before the situation evolves towards a direction
that is less favorable for the decision-makers involved (Hermann 1969,
414). Thus, crisis is seen as a certain type of event, defined by three
necessary characteristics which, in this combination, stimulate a decision-
making behavior that is different from confrontations with non-crisis
events (Hermann 1972b, 188).
It is not predetermined which events classify as crises since Hermann
emphasizes that “decision makers behave according to their interpreta-
tion of the situation, not according to its ‘objective’ character” (Hermann
1972a, 12). While Hermann assumes that the behavior of decision-makers
is immediately related to the events they confront, he does not confine
himself to a simplistic stimulus–response model that regards crises as
© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature 1

Switzerland AG 2023
N. Klopf, Global Crisis, Global Political Sociology,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-25140-5_1
2 N. KLOPF
stimulating events, directly provoking certain decision-making responses.

Instead, crises only come into existence through the individual interpre-
tation of decision-makers which acts as an intermediary between event
stimulus and decision-making response (Hermann 1974, 237). Michael
Brecher later proposes a supplemented stimulus–response model that no
longer treats decision-makers’ interpretations merely as one-directional
processes, by considering feedback loops in the sense that crisis responses
influence decision-makers’ subsequent interpretations (Brecher 1977b,
56). Irrespective of these revisions, crises are seen as rooted in material
events, but they are only classified as crises through the interpretative
practices of decision-makers. In this way, Hermann already introduces
the distinction between a material and interpretative dimension which
permeates subsequent crisis theory.
Essential for Hermann’s definition of crisis is its conceptualization as
a foreign policy event which he specifies as an action a particular state
undertakes towards at least one foreign target (Hermann 1971, 310).
In this sense, crises are understood as deliberate actions initiated by a
foreign state towards major national values, such as physical survival,
territorial integrity, political sovereignty, economic welfare, and societal
stability (Brecher 1977b, 48; Hermann and Brady 1972, 297). Thus,
Hermann’s definition of crisis events not only restricts the phenomena
that are considered as crises, but his conceptualization of crisis events also
acts as a limitation. He emphasizes states as the initiators of crisis events,
even though he expands potential initiating actors to opposing forces
within a nation, international cartels, and terrorist groups in his later
work, without, however, ever losing his focus on states (Hermann 1978,
32–7). Hermann consistently identifies the origin of crises in deliberate
actions of human actors and only once mentions briefly the possibility
that crises may result from “acts of nature” (Hermann and Mason 1980,
191). Moreover, given his focus on state actors, crisis events are primarily
seen as exogenous to a particular state which, to a large extent, excludes
the possibility that crises arise from domestic difficulties, injustices, or
contradictions.
Although Hermann’s contribution to crisis research is characterized
by his definition of high threat to major national values, short time
for response, and non-anticipation, he adjusts this definition in his later
work, incorporating insights from Michael Brecher’s research on crisis
1 FROM CRISIS DECISION-MAKING TO DISCOURSE THEORY 3
decision-making. Whereas he already tentatively questions the dimen-

sion of non-anticipation in his earlier work (Hermann 1972b, 208), it
disappears in later crisis definitions (Hermann 1986, 67; 1988b, 122),
leading him to consider both crises that emerge suddenly, being unan-
ticipated by decision-makers, and crises that evolve over a protracted
period of time (Hermann and Mason 1980, 191–93). In a similar manner,
Boin and ‘t Hart replace Hermann’s category of non-anticipation with
uncertainty, arguing that crises do not suddenly appear, but they are a
“product of escalation” and emerge when “seemingly innocent factors
combine and transform into disruptive forces that come to represent an
undeniable threat to the system” (Boin and Hart 2007, 46, 49; also
Rosenthal et al. 2001, 6). Besides abandoning non-anticipation, Hermann
focuses on military hostilities in his later definitions. Following Brecher,
he asserts that military activities are perceived as more likely during a
crisis (Hermann 1986, 67) which leads him to define crises as “periods of
increased belief in the likelihood of war” (Hermann 1988a, 213). He thus
puts a strong focus on war, arguing that the likelihood of war is “what a
crisis is about” (Hermann 1986, 76) such that avoiding the escalation of
crisis to increased military hostility is one of the major purposes of crisis
management (Hermann 1978, 29).
With this development, Hermann already comes remarkably close
to Michael Brecher’s modified definition of crisis that has reached a
salient position in IR crisis research. For Brecher, crises denote situational
changes in a state’s internal or external environment that decision-makers
interpret as threatening to national values, which leaves only finite time
for response, and which is accompanied by a high probability of military
hostilities (Brecher 1977a, 1). Besides omitting non-anticipation, Brecher
puts a strong focus on military hostility, arguing that the “probability
of war is the pivotal definition of crisis” (Brecher and Geist 1980, 6).
Moreover, when considering situational change, the origin of crisis is no
longer bound to deliberate actions towards another target, but it might
also result from altered interstate relations, such as changes in belligerent
states or military resources (Brecher 1977b, 48), and domestic occur-
rences, e.g., strikes, demonstrations, riots, or sabotage (Brecher 1979,
449). Brecher explicitly regards crises as both external and internal to
states, something which has only been briefly touched upon in Hermann’s
work.
4 N. KLOPF
Thus, departing from Hermann’s account of events towards what

Brecher subsumes under situational change, that is, a “hostile act, disrup-
tive event or environmental change” (Brecher 1996, 127), broadens the
circumstances considered as crisis origins. However, even though crisis
triggers include a variety of phenomena, adversary states remain the
only crisis actors (Brecher et al. 1995, 376). Non-state actors, such as
international organizations, can merely have an intervening function in
crisis responses or may provide support for primary crisis actors (Brecher
1984, 259; James et al. 1988, 57). Nohrstedt and Weible, in turn, while
relying on a similar decision-making approach, depart from this traditional
focus on national crisis actors and contend that crises do not necessarily
confront states as a whole, but they might also emerge for certain regional
decision-makers (Nohrstedt and Weible 2010, 21).
Despite these differences, Brecher remains close to Hermann’s tradi-
tional definition. In his later work, however, Brecher becomes increasingly
interested in the relationship between decision-making and systemic
crises, i.e., crises of the international system. Already before Brecher’s
contribution, attempts were made to link Hermann’s decision-making
approach to systemic crises. James McCormick, for instance, argues that
crisis situations must be reflected on a decision-making as well as systemic
level. He adduces Hermann’s traditional definition but supplements it
with a systemic criterion, such that crises become visible within the
international system through “marked changes in the frequency and
intensity of behavior between nations” (McCormick 1975, 25). Whereas
such attempts remained fairly unsubstantial in analyzing the relationship
between decision-making and systemic crises, Brecher investigates this
link more thoroughly. He defines systemic crises as situational changes
that are characterized by increased disruptive interactions among states,
which are accompanied by changes within structural attributes of the
international system, such as power distribution or international rules,
actors, and alliances (Brecher and Yehuda 1985, 23). Again, Brecher
emphasizes military hostility, adding that disruptive interactions are spec-
ified by hostile activities and the probability of becoming involved in
war (Brecher et al. 1988, 3; 2000, 39). Even though his account of
crisis is tied to the probability of military hostility, he emphasizes that
crises do not necessarily escalate to war but decision-makers’ interpreta-
tions are “exacerbated by war” such that the “occurrence of war […]
intensifies disruptive interaction” (Brecher 1993, 6) between states in the
international system.
In proposing a two-dimensional definition of interstate crises, Brecher

reinforces his focus on state crisis actors. Whereas decision-making crises
focus on the perspective of one state, systemic crises regard the interna-
tional system as such. These dimensions are inextricably linked as systemic
crises only come into being through a previous decision-making crisis
which “serves as the precondition, and marks the beginning of an interna-
tional [systemic] crisis” (Brecher 2008, 9). When situational changes are
interpreted as a crisis by national decision-makers, certain crisis responses
are adduced which leads to behavioral changes between states. This, in
turn, results in a “further distortion in systemic interaction” (Brecher
2018, 48) which denotes a systemic crisis. Whereas Brecher assumes that
decision-making crises are necessarily reflected at a systemic level, Phillips
and Rimkunas argue that decision-making crises merely put decision-
makers in a state of alert that might potentially result in systemic crises
(Phillips and Rimkunas 1978, 268). Brecher’s approach, nevertheless,
amplifies the differentiation between an interpretative and material dimen-
sion of crisis. While decision-makers’ interpretations are based on material
changes in state environments, systemic crises comprise subsequent mate-
rial transformations of the international system and are thus argued to
have an ‘objective’ character (Brecher and James 1986, 26).
1.1.1 Summary and Critique

Even though a decision-making perspective provides pioneering insights
into crisis research, it is primarily concerned with decision-making
behavior, leaving the conceptual specificity of crisis largely unaddressed.
Notably, the predominance of decision-making approaches has not been
diminished during the last decades but prevails largely unchallenged in
contemporary research. Although notable contributions have advanced
these traditional definitions, core aspects remain mostly untouched (Boin
et al. 2005; McConnell 2020; Wilkenfeld et al. 2005). The early work of
Charles Hermann and Michael Brecher offers systematic definitions, but
it mainly focuses on the effects of crisis, advancing crisis as a theoretical
variable for further analysis. In this way, the added value is in partic-
ular a methodical one that lacks a thorough theoretical conceptualization.
However, it is only fair to mention that decision-making approaches were
developed to analyze decision-making behavior where crisis appears as
an independent variable which necessitates the focus on decision-making
processes and omits the possibility that the character of crises is altered
6 N. KLOPF
by decision-makers instead of merely being recognized in their inter-

pretations. A discursive approach does not neglect the pioneering work
undertaken by decision-making theory and its insights into foreign policy
behavior, but it vindicates the position that crisis theory must be advanced
in a different direction.
It needs to be noted critically that decision-making approaches rely
on the individual interpretations of decision-makers for identifying events
that are classified as crises. This, however, presents an individualist
perspective that assumes that, while influenced by environmental factors,
decision-makers interpret crisis situations individually. It is not reflected
on how such interpretations emerge, which, in contrast, is highlighted
in constructivist and discourse theoretical approaches that emphasize the
socially, or discursively, constructed character of every individual inter-
pretation. Thus, interpretation must be replaced by a notion of crisis
construction, since crises can neither be approached independently from
the decision-makers that confront them nor from the society they are
located in. That is, crises cannot solely be approached as an indepen-
dent variable that decision-makers act upon, but the nature of crises is
constantly seized by social, and discursive, constructions (Hay 2016, 531;
Weldes 1999b, 38; Widmaier 2005, 557). Decision-making theory does
not escape one-directional crisis response models, although Brecher intro-
duces occasional feedback loops into decision-makers’ interpretations.
This does not account for the continuing impact that social structures
have on crisis constructions, which are therefore never static, but in prin-
ciple constantly altered. Decision-making approaches, nonetheless, open
the way for treating crisis as an interpretative phenomenon that does
not exist naturally without any interpretative, or constructing, practice.
This insight is expanded in later constructivist and discourse theoretical
research, but decision-making theory teaches us the valuable lesson that
we must not reduce crisis to materiality. Decision-making approaches are
henceforth advanced in three major directions:
(1) Discursive construction of ephemeral crises. Relying on construc-

tivist research, a discourse theoretical perspective regards temporary
crises as discursive constructions instead of individual interpreta-
tions. Ephemeral crises are thus not identified by their effects on
decision-makers but through a distinct process of crisis construc-
tion.
(2) Permanence of structural crisis. These constructions merely present

ephemeral moments of destabilization that are rooted in a
continuous structural crisis that permeates every society. Hence,
combining constructivist and critical realist insights, a differenti-
ation between ephemeral constructed and permanent structural
crisis is introduced, which renders it possible to theorize the process
of crisis construction.
(3) Abandonment of non-crisis. It becomes necessary to abandon the
sharp differentiation between crisis and non-crisis, which is usually
put forward by decision-making approaches. It is only in more
recent research on crisis management that so-called ‘transboundary
crises’ are recognized, which blurs the demarcation of distinct
crisis periods. Arjen Boin thus argues that “[w]hereas a tradi-
tional crisis has a clear beginning and an end, the transboundary
crisis cannot easily be pinpointed in time” since “[i]ts roots run
deep […] and its effects may be felt years down the road” (Boin
2009, 368). However, even this expansion limits crises to specific
events and does not acknowledge that society is confronted with a
permanent structural crisis that prevents it from reaching complete
stability. This lurking instability, however, often remains obscured
and merely becomes accentuated in times of ephemeral crisis. It is
in this sense that the traditional association of crisis with instability
must be understood: Illusions of stability are linked to non-crisis
periods when society appears to be relatively stable. This stability,
then, only becomes disrupted during constructed ephemeral crises,
which appear as the only type of crises we are confronted with.
1.2 Constructivism
The work of Jutta Weldes presents one of the first theoretical engage-
ments that are concerned with the socially constructed nature of crisis.
She highlights that crises cannot be understood independently from
the society that decision-makers are situated in since the same material
circumstances will be “constituted as different crises, or not as crises at
all, by and for states with different identities” (Weldes 1999b, 37). This
not only rules out the possibility that crises are ‘natural’ occurrences,
waiting to be discovered, but Weldes also shifts the focus from indi-
vidual interpretations to the social construction of crisis. She contends
8 N. KLOPF
that crises are always constructed in relation to a particular state iden-

tity since constructing certain events as crises challenges the state identity
in question (Weldes 1999b, 38). In her analysis of the Cuban missile
crisis, Weldes thus argues that the crisis was produced “as a serious threat
to the well-established cold war identity of the United States” (Weldes
1999a, 219) as a global superpower and preserver of freedom. Hence,
crisis can be specified as a threat to a particular state identity which is
not ‘objectively’ given but socially constructed (Weldes 1999b, 41). This,
however, does not renounce the material circumstances linked to crisis,
but taking the Cuban missile crisis as an example, Weldes notes that its
social construction does not “deny that missiles were indeed placed by
the Soviets in Cuba” but “any interpretation of ‘the missile crisis’, to be
plausible, must recognize and account for these missiles” (Weldes 1996,
286). However, this “reality constraint” (Weldes 1996, 286) does not
necessitate a particular construction of these occurrences but a variety
of constructions remains possible. Thus, while a constructivist approach
focuses on the socially constructed meaning of crisis, it does not deny the
physical existence of its associated material conditions.
Moreover, when events are constructed as crises, state identities are
not only threatened, but crises also provide the opportunity to repro-
duce and reinforce the threatened identity (Weldes 1999b, 38). Weldes
thus shows that “having defined a crisis into existence, responding to that
crisis enabled the performative reproduction of U.S. identity” (Weldes
1999b, 54) since it required a response from U.S. officials in which the
ingrained U.S. identity became reproduced. This is particularly impor-
tant as states are not linked to any inherent, or essential, identity but
state identity must constantly be reproduced in foreign policy practices
which crises provide opportunities for (Weldes 1999b, 59). During the
Cuban missile crisis, the United States was thus able to reinforce its
Cold War identity that had emerged from antagonistic relations towards
the Soviet Union. Whereas the latter was presented as totalitarian and
aggressive, which led to the construction of the Soviet missiles as neces-
sarily offensive, the United States was constructed in contrast to Soviet
totalitarianism, which in turn precluded the possibility that the missiles
played a defensive role or that the crisis was engendered by prior U.S.
aggression (Weldes 1999a, 128–29). Thus, the Cuban missile crisis was
constructed out of existing U.S.–Soviet relations and was tied to a partic-
ular U.S. identity which made an alternative construction of the missiles
“unintelligible from within the U.S. security imaginary” (Weldes 1999a,
136).
In contrast to decision-making approaches, Weldes’ analysis of the

Cuban missile crisis renders visible that the way decision-makers construct
crises cannot be understood without considering threatened state iden-
tities, and, at the same time, those antagonistic relations that these
identities are constructed against. This also shows that the Cuban missile
crisis was not merely about placing missiles in Cuba but these missiles
became a “metaphor for the U.S.-Soviet conflict” (Weldes 1999a, 219)
which became accentuated during the Cuban missile crisis. Weldes thus
concludes that resolving the crisis did not merely involve removing the
missiles but the United States was primarily concerned with “maintaining
or living up to the identity constructed for the United States” (Weldes
1999a, 219). It becomes clear that ephemeral crises, such as the Cuban
missile crisis, hint at a deeper destabilization that has already been present
through existing antagonistic relations which are constitutive of every
identity.
Similar approaches were also developed in the field of constructivist
International Political Economy. Mark Blyth, for instance, specifies crises
as situations in which actors are uncertain as to what their interests are
and how they can realize them (Blyth 2002, 9). Maintaining that crises
are not natural phenomena, he thus argues that crisis is to be understood
as an “act of intervention where sources of uncertainty are diagnosed
and constructed” (Blyth 2002, 10). The diagnosis of a particular crisis
is seized by existing ideas actors have, since interests are not naturally
given but they are a matter of social construction. Through ideas, actors
construct a particular crisis, that is, identify particular origins of uncer-
tainty, since ideas propose particular interests, and at the same time,
solutions to crises, which reduces the uncertainty of interests (Blyth 2002,
11). Thus, Blyth’s conceptualization of crisis regards temporary moments
of ideational contestation when the way forward becomes uncertain due
to actors’ struggle to construct their interests.
However, Colin Hay rightly criticizes that crises do not necessarily
lead to uncertainty about actors’ interests, but they might also “result
in the vehement reassertion, expression, and articulation of prior concep-
tions of self-interest” (Hay 2008, 69), which has been rendered visible
in Weldes’ analysis of the Cuban missile crisis that served to reassert the
existing U.S. identity. Crises neither present moments of radical uncer-
tainty nor complete certainty about actors’ interests, but they open a space
for contestation that might lead to the reinforcement or transformation of
existing social structures. Moreover, Hay rightly asks that if crises denote
10 N. KLOPF
radical uncertainty as to what actors’ interest are, “then how is it that

such situations are ever resolved” (Hay 2008, 70)? If ideas already exist
that provide actors with interests, situations might appear as utterly uncer-
tain since naturalized social practices might have become interrupted, but
these situations are in fact merely contested, since where would those
ideas come from that actors adduce to resolve the crisis if the situation
was completely uncertain and not framed by any ideas (Hay 2008, 70)?
Taking a similar perspective, Widmaier and Baglione define crises
as “events that are interpreted as legitimating the transformation of
prevailing understandings and interests” (Baglione and Widmaier 2006,
196). While keeping the focus on interests, Widmaier eschews Blyth’s
problematic conceptualization of uncertainty by emphasizing the poten-
tial of crises to challenge dominant understandings. Interests do not
become utterly uncertain during crises, but prevailing understandings, or
dominant ideas, are put into question, and it is these ideas that shape, and
potentially transform, interests in the first place (Widmaier 2003, 64).
Widmaier thus specifies crises through their effect of legitimizing
change. This becomes even clearer in his co-authored article with Mark
Blyth and Leonard Seabrooke where crises are defined more generally as
“events which agents intersubjectively interpret as necessitating change”
(Widmaier et al. 2007, 748). In this sense, crises are understood as events
that do not alter material relations as such but rather a “set of shared
understandings” (Widmaier 2003, 65) since actors cannot react directly to
material changes, but how actors respond is mediated through the partic-
ular meaning that material relations gain through social constructions.
Particular crisis responses are thus shaped by the socially constructed
meaning of crises (Widmaier et al. 2007, 748). However, Widmaier
emphasizes that this approach does not deny the materiality of crises but
“highlights the discourses which frame material change” (Widmaier 2007,
785). Even though this might bear a slight resemblance to decision-
making approaches that propose an interpretative intermediary between
event stimulus and decision-making response, Widmaier’s emphasis on
the socially mediated character of crises is not one-directional and does
not include occasional feedback loops. But he notes that intersubjective
understandings of crises are “sustained or transformed through ongoing
interaction” (Widmaier 2005, 557), such that the meaning of crises is
constantly seized by social practices.
Focusing both on institutional change and underlying destabilizing
structures within society, Hay’s work presents perhaps one of the most
sophisticated approaches to constructivist crisis theory. He defines crisis as

“a moment of decisive intervention in the process of institutional change”
(Hay 1999, 320), as during crisis, entrenched state structures may be
overcome and “a new projection of a future state regime is constructed”
(Hay 1999, 322). Thus, crisis is inextricably linked to the process of state
transformation since the state is rendered as in need of decisive interven-
tion, and, at the same time, a particular institutional trajectory is proposed
to resolve the crisis (Hay 1996b, 254). Importantly, the opportunity to
make decisive interventions is not naturally given through institutional
developments, but it is socially constructed as a “moment in which those
capable of making a response at the level at which the crisis is identi-
fied perceive the need to make such an intervention” (Hay 1996a, 424).
This intervention is made in response to state failure, that is, to an “accu-
mulation or condensation of contradictions” (Hay 1999, 324). However,
actors cannot respond directly to such failures, but the latter must be
mediated through social constructions which transforms failure into crisis
(Hay 1996a, 423). Thus, failure merely presents the structural precon-
dition for crisis to emerge and does not neatly correspond to crises that
are constructed based on an identified state failure, but the latter can
give rise to a variety of different crisis constructions (Hay 1995, 64).
Hence, the decisive interventions made to resolve crises depend on how
social constructions give meaning to state failure. This also means that
the way forward is not predetermined but a matter of contestation which
might result in the transformation of institutional structures, while crises
can also serve to reinforce existing structures, depending on which crisis
construction prevails (Hay 2013a, 49; 2013b, 24).
Against this definition, Hay develops a process of crisis and institu-
tional change. He proposes that crises emerge through an accumulation
of unresolved contradictions that eventually consolidate as state failure.
Thereby, varying contradictions are identified as symptoms of a generally
deficient state (Hay 1996b, 255). In this process, their specificity becomes
denied and they are constructed in a particular “abstracted and simplified
meta-narrative” (Hay 1996b, 267) of state failure. In this way, multiple
disparate events can be accommodated within the same crisis construc-
tion. This might also serve to reinforce a particular construction of state
failure since the “crisis diagnosis is conformed in each new ‘symptom’ that
can be assimilated within this metanarrative” (Hay 1995, 72). However,
Hay emphasizes that “there is no objective point at which a given weight
of contradictions will necessarily precipitate a crisis” (Hay 2010, 465) but
12 N. KLOPF
the identification of failure as crisis remains a matter of social construction.

While there might emerge competing crisis constructions, a dominant
construction will eventually prevail that is linked to distinct decisive inter-
ventions, proposing a particular institutional trajectory which might either
reinforce or challenge existing institutional structures (Hay 1999, 331;
2014, 66). The success of dominant crisis constructions is not determined
by their accuracy to reflect material failures, but they are judged on their
“ability to provide a simplified account sufficiently flexible to ‘narrate’ a
great variety of morbid symptoms” (Hay 2001, 204).
Hay thus proposes a process of institutional transformation that alter-
nates between crises and periods of relative stability in which crises appear
as rare disruptions that destabilize an otherwise apparently stable society
before culminating contradictions result in another construction of state
failure. This crisis cycle is supplemented by Stuart Croft, who suggests two
alternative paths in case dominant institutional structures are challenged
by arising contradictions. As it has been put forward by Hay, when the
dominant institutional order becomes contested by emerging contradic-
tions, it is possible that state failure is constructed as crisis, leading to
decisive interventions and institutional restructuring. At the same time,
however, Croft emphasizes the possibility that the dominant order might
adapt to arising contradictions which only supports its further reinforce-
ment. Eventually then, it reaches the point where it cannot adapt to
further contestation, resulting again in crisis and potential institutional
transformation (Croft 2006, 272–74). This, however, in no way contra-
dicts Hay’s theorization of state transformation, but supplements it with
what has already been implicit in Hay’s work.

While constructivist research highlights how crises are socially
constructed, it generally remains unclear where those ideas come
from that give rise to crisis constructions in the first place. With the
notable exception of Weldes’ work that emphasizes how crises emerge
from existing antagonistic relations, it usually remains untold how we
come to understand social circumstances in one way rather than another,
that is, how we come to construct certain phenomena as a particular kind
of crisis or not as a crisis at all. These steps therefore become necessary:
(1) Discursive construction of ephemeral crises. A discourse theoretical

approach does not focus on the intersubjective construction of
crises but highlights their discursive construction, which serves as
a prerequisite for social constructions. Discourse theory as hence-
forth understood does not merely include linguistics but empha-
sizes how meaning is produced through a variety of linguistic utter-
ances, material conditions, visuality, social practices, etc. Discursive
structures produce us as subjects in the first place, and thereby also
our capability of intersubjective negotiations.
(2) Departure from actor-centrism. The construction of crisis is then
detached from the constructivist trend of focusing on a limited
number of actors who are capable of constructing crises. Not only
do traditional decision-making approaches restrict the interpreta-
tion of crisis to few national decision-makers, but constructivist
research is also frequently focused on the constructions of state offi-
cials (Weldes 1999b, 37), leaders (Widmaier 2007, 792), or actors
that are capable of making decisive interventions (Hay 1995, 64).
Although being a noteworthy development, this is also not reme-
died by approaches that broaden the scope to include both elites
and the mass public (Seabrooke 2007, 807; Widmaier et al. 2007,
749; also Weldes 1999b, 58). A discourse theoretical approach
renders visible how any form of intersubjectivity is always under-
pinned by discursive constructions which are thus given, at least
analytical, priority.
(3) Permanence of structural crisis. A discourse theoretical perspective
also reveals how every crisis construction emerges from an under-
lying structural dimension, which Hay’s work has already pointed
towards. Whereas Hay proposes an explicitly material underpin-
ning of constructed crises when discussing the accumulation of
structural contradictions, a discursive process of crisis construc-
tion does not start from the assumption of necessarily material
preconditions. This, however, does not deny the materiality of
crises since crisis constructions are not merely treated as linguistic
practices, but the differentiation between linguistic/extra-linguistic
or material/non-material is discharged in favor of inclusive discur-
sive constructions that regard both dimensions. Thus, discursive
constructions are not merely ‘ideational’ if the latter is to denote
linguistic constructions or processes of crisis construction taking
place ‘in our minds’. Against this background, Weldes’ work
14 N. KLOPF
becomes particularly important when it, too, hints at a struc-

tural underpinning of crisis constructions by emphasizing how the
Cuban missile crisis emerged from existing U.S.–Soviet relations.
In contrast to Hay, Weldes highlights the ideational dimension of
the antagonistic relationship between the United States and the
Soviet Union. Even though she is particularly concerned with an
ideational dimension, her focus on antagonism already comes close
to a discursive perspective that highlights how ephemeral crisis
constructions emerge from an underlying structural destabilization,
which, however, can neither be regarded as merely material nor
linguistic but as explicitly discursive.
It is at this point that crisis can no longer solely be treated as a tempo-

rary occurrence that disrupts an otherwise stable society, but crisis must
be approached as a multidimensional phenomenon. Hay’s concern with
material contradictions and Weldes’ emphasis on antagonistic relations,
while focusing on different aspects, already denote a distinct structural
dimension of crisis. It thus becomes necessary to systematize crisis, differ-
entiating between ephemeral constructed and permanent structural crisis.
This stands in contrast to Hay’s argument that crises cannot be permanent
because “a perpetual crisis would be one that does not directly threaten
the stability of the system, one that does not result in decisive interven-
tion” since otherwise “the unresolved crisis would rapidly degenerate into
catastrophe – the collapse of the state” (Hay 1995, 63). Yet, we are indeed
confronted with a permanent structural crisis, which, however, is often
obscured such that societies appear to be stable despite being destabilized.
In this way, we are not sliding towards catastrophe and the annihilation
of institutional structures, but live in the guise of a relatively stabilized
social order.
Similarly, Hay remarks that crisis “is not some objective condition or
property of a system defining the contours for subsequent ideological
contestation” but it is only “brought into existence through narrative and
discourse” (Hay 1996b, 255). While it is certainly right that ephemeral
crises only emerge through constructions, crisis can indeed be regarded
as a condition of a system, yet not an ‘objective’ one if the latter is to
be understood as linked to some sort of ‘natural’ unmediated materiality.
Rather, crisis characterizes a constitutive structural feature of every society
that only becomes accentuated during temporary constructed crises.
Conceptualizing crisis as a permanent structural characteristic of society
and, at the same time, through ephemeral constructions is not mutu-

ally exclusive, but it requires a multidimensional approach. Recent critical
realist crisis theory has developed towards a similar direction, differen-
tiating crisis on distinct ontological dimensions, which thus provides a
point of departure for further systematization.
1.3 Critical Realism

Bob Jessop’s work presents perhaps the most sophisticated approach to
critical realist crisis theory. He proposes a process-based approach that
explores “transformative phenomena that unfold over space–time” (Knio
and Jessop 2019, 7) before eventually culminating in crisis. From this
perspective, crisis is not seen as an instantaneous phenomenon, but Jessop
is concerned with the trends leading towards crisis. This also stands in
contrast with traditional decision-making approaches since crises are not
utterly unanticipated but interwoven in more complex crisis dynamics
that, theoretically, might be recognized in advance. These crisis dynamics
can be located in what Jessop regards as the ‘objective’ dimension of
crisis that comprises the material preconditions for every ‘subjective’
construction (Jessop 2012a, 19). While this assumption provides the
basis for Jessop’s multilayered approach, it certainly contradicts previously
discussed constructivist research. However, even though his focus on an
independent materiality must be viewed critically, Jessop’s work proves
nonetheless fruitful for advancing towards a further systematization of
crisis.
Jessop does not merely propose a differentiation between materiality
and construction but develops a more nuanced conceptualization of crisis
based on Bhaskar’s tripartite ontology, distinguishing ‘real’ mechanisms
from ‘actual’ events and ‘empirical’ observations (Jessop 2015c, 239; see
also Bhaskar 2008, 47). Although the general differentiation between
an ‘objective’ and ‘subjective’ dimension of crisis somehow resonates
with this three-dimensional approach, since the ‘real’ and ‘actual’ layers
comprise materiality, Jessop does not assume particular material condi-
tions as the starting point for theorizing crisis. Rather, he stresses potential
material circumstances leading to crisis by rooting the latter in a ‘real’
dimension that circumscribes a variety of entities connected by potential
causal mechanisms that might tendentially develop towards crisis. In this
sense, Jessop contends that crisis becomes manifest “in specific condi-
tions of an abstract possibility of crisis where the balance between crisis
16 N. KLOPF
tendencies and counter-tendencies tips in favour of crisis” (Jessop and

Knio 2019, 270). Thus, the ‘real’ layer encompasses the constant interac-
tion of causal mechanisms, or tendencies, which might develop towards
an ‘actual’ material crisis. Jessop thereby introduces an explicitly struc-
tural underpinning since the tipping point towards crisis is reached when
“contradictions and crisis tendencies can no longer be managed, displaced
or deferred” (Jessop 2013b, 12), that is, when ‘antagonisms’ develop
that are grounded in specific structural mechanisms (Jessop 2019, 53).
These antagonisms become apparent when “accepted views of the world”
(Jessop 2012b, 24) are disrupted and social relations “cannot be repro-
duced […] in the old way” (Jessop 2015a, 486). Crises can thus be
traced back to causal mechanisms that give rise to particular triggering
events which reveal exactly these underlying structural factors, that is,
contradictions that are unable to be managed within the existing social
order.
However, Jessop emphasizes that crises cannot be reduced to this
material dimension since a “crisis is never a purely objective, extra-
semiotic event” (Sum and Jessop 2014, 396), but actors first have to
make sense of material occurrences and their underlying structural mech-
anisms. Yet, as it is impossible to completely observe these mechanisms,
constructions of particular crises necessarily remain partial and are thus
open to contestation (Jessop 2015c, 240). While emerging from material
crises, constructions cannot simply be derived from them such that no
specific construction is predetermined by its underlying causes. Neverthe-
less, some constructions still reflect more adequately causal mechanisms
than others. However, even more inadequate constructions might have
“constitutive effects” (Jessop 2019, 62) in the sense that they can shape
discourses by acting upon crisis constructions of others and by affecting
the transformation of political institutions. The detection, observation,
and construction of particular crises is encompassed in what Jessop
regards as the ‘empirical’ dimension of crisis. Importantly, however,
constructions must always be rooted in material conditions in order to be
legitimately referred to as crisis. Otherwise, we would be confronted with
‘manufactured’ crises that are merely constructed phenomena without any
material foundation (Sum and Jessop 2014, 396).
Critical realist theory is thus particularly concerned with an indepen-
dently existing materiality that is supposed to explain the emergence of
crisis, stressing that the existence of crises “must be independent from
how we perceive them” (Knio 2019, 42). At the same time, it is acknowl-
edged that crises cannot remain unmediated, but actors give varying
meanings to crises through social constructions which not only shape
how material crises are understood, but how crises are constructed also
influences which decisions are made in response (Jessop 2015a, 487).
This prevalent position of materiality is also reflected in how Jessop
conceptualizes the process of crisis construction that he subdivides
into three stages from an initial plethora of different constructions to
the eventual retention of a particular construction and its institutional
implementation. Initially stable structures become destabilized through
the emergence of material crises which give rise to a multiplicity of
varying crisis constructions that enable the “(re-)politicization of sedi-
mented discourses and practices” (Jessop 2013a, 238). However, only
some of these constructions get selected, while others disappear or
become marginalized. Eventually, one dominant construction prevails
and disrupted social structures become re-sedimented, leading again to
a seemingly stable society. Jessop highlights that in this process, both
materiality and construction remain co-present. Yet, whereas construc-
tion is particularly important during the initial phase, materiality becomes
prevalent along the way to retention (Jessop 2013a, 238), since only
those constructions “that grasp key emergent and extra-semiotic features
of the social and natural world are likely to be selected and retained”
(Jessop 2015b, 99). Nevertheless, there is always the possibility that
dominant constructions become contested by oppositional and marginal-
ized discourses that remain present in the relative stability of the dominant
social order (Jessop 2015b, 110).

It must be noted critically that Jessop’s process of crisis construction
assumes as its starting point a sedimented, seemingly stable discourse
where social structures have become naturalized and are taken for
granted. This apparent stability then becomes disrupted through a crisis
which re-politicizes that discourse and opens up the field for the trans-
formation of social structures that become re-sedimented after the crisis
is resolved. Even though Jessop cites the categories of sedimentation and
re-politicization from the Laclauian work of Howarth and Glynos (Jessop
2013a, 235), Laclau is particularly concerned with the co-presence of
both aspects such that we are never confronted with an un-politicized
18 N. KLOPF
discourse (Laclau 1990, 35). While it is certainly right that social struc-
tures generally appear to be stable, sedimentation and re-politicization
cannot be broken down into a linear process but must be approached
as co-present. Accordingly, crisis must not be restricted to the tempo-
rary disruption of sedimented discursive structures, but it must also be
approached as a permanent structural feature of every society since the
point of complete sedimentation cannot be reached.
Nevertheless, the general process of crisis construction from prolif-
eration to retention cannot be renounced from a discourse theoretical
perspective, even though the theorization of each step remains problem-
atic, not least due to Jessop’s emphasis on materiality throughout the
construction process. His ontological differentiation of crisis is grounded
in an independent materiality, consisting of natural causal mechanisms
that serve to explain the emergence of crises. Despite this problematic
foundation of Jessop’s theory, he offers valuable insights that will be a
point of departure for developing a discursive framework of global crises:
(1) Discursive construction of ephemeral crises. While it is certainly

correct that ephemeral crises are rooted in complex social struc-
tures that are seized by destabilizations, crises cannot be seen as
the culmination of prior contradictions, as some sort of devel-
opment towards the point where such contradictions cannot be
integrated into the existing social order. Rather, while being consti-
tuted within an inherently, and permanently, destabilized structure,
the emergence of ephemeral crises does not depict the disintegra-
tion of this order, but it renders visible its permanent underlying
destabilization. That is, ephemeral crises temporarily reveal the
constitutive structural crisis at the heart of every society. Jessop,
nonetheless, paves the way towards an understanding of ephemeral
crises that are rooted in an underlying structural dimension, even
though the latter will be largely rethought.
(2) Permanence of structural crisis. Jessop further introduces an
Althusserian notion of antagonism in order to explain the conden-
sation of contradictions which, despite carrying the same problem
of an independent materiality, cannot be completely renounced but
rather must be advanced towards a discourse theoretical under-
standing of the term. As long as crisis is understood through
Althusserian antagonism, that is, as the culmination of contra-
dictions that cannot be managed within an existing social order,
crisis remains located at a given point in time, even if pre-

crisis dynamics are considered in its emergence. However, if crisis
is to be understood as a permanent structural characteristic of
society, antagonism must be rethought, which becomes possible
by departing towards a Laclauian account of antagonism that,
nevertheless, remains derived from Althusser. Antagonism then
becomes a permanent feature in the constitution of every society
and, at the same time, renders it inherently destabilized. Through
a Laclauian understanding of antagonism, it thus becomes possible
to conceptualize crisis both as constructed ephemeral instances
and as a permanent characteristic of society that makes ephemeral
constructions possible in the first place.
(3) Discursivity of crisis. This includes the departure from an inde-
pendent materiality as the precondition for structural destabi-
lization, which, however, does not leave us with mere linguistic
constructions, but a discursive approach dissolves the differenti-
ation between materiality and linguistics in favor of an inclusive
perspective that considers material and linguistic aspects as equally
meaningful entities in the discursive construction of crisis. The crit-
ical realist rejection of constructivist approaches thus becomes at
least partly softened, because it criticizes constructivist research for
treating crises as an “exclusively discursive object” (Rycker and
Mohd Don 2013, 5) which, however, assumes a purely linguistic
understanding of discourse which is explicitly renounced from a
Laclauian perspective. The critique that ignoring the independent
materiality of crisis would have as its consequence that “just any
arbitrary event or sequence of events is socially constructed into
crisis” such that crisis becomes a “vacuous signifier” (Rycker and
Mohd Don 2013, 20) can hence be refuted by introducing an
inclusive discourse theoretical approach that conceptualizes the
specificity of crisis constructions against the backdrop of permanent
structural crisis.
1.4 Discourse Theory

Dirk Nabers’ work provides pioneering insights into a discourse theo-
retical conceptualization of structural crisis that emphasizes how crisis
cannot be reduced to ephemeral moments of destabilization but must be
understood as a permanent constitutive feature of society. By introducing
20 N. KLOPF
the Laclauian notion of dislocation into crisis theorizing, he renders it

possible to explore the conceptual specificity of crisis, both as ephemeral
instances and as a permanent structural feature. At the same time, dislo-
cation provides the theoretical background that is necessary for linking
these dimensions. Following Laclau, dislocation generally characterizes
the inherent incompleteness of society, its failure to achieve stability, and
thereby also the ongoing disruption that prevents society from being
completely constituted or stable. In this sense, Laclau defines disloca-
tion as the failure of social structures “to achieve constitution” (Laclau
1990, 47). Thus, social structures remain inherently incomplete and
unstable since dislocation never vanishes but remains as constitutive for
every society. Along these lines, Nabers conceptualizes structural crisis as
dislocation and argues that “crisis is related to the constantly disrupted
structure of society or even the very impossibility of society” (Nabers
2019, 265). Hence, seemingly stable social structures remain essentially
destabilized since those practices, norms, rules, and institutions that are
taken for granted by large parts of society, that is, what has been insti-
tutionalized or has become sedimented, is in fact constantly dislocated,
even if it appears to be stable. In this sense, Nabers foregrounds that, in
the first place, dislocation refers to the dislocation of “sedimented prac-
tices” (Nabers 2017, 422). Hence, dislocation is closely related to the
always contested and thus potentially changing character of society and
highlights that society is an essentially precarious construct that cannot
be approached as a fixed entity.

It remains problematic that the tension between an ephemeral and a
permanent dimension of dislocation has never been resolved in Laclau’s
work and continues to permeate Nabers’ research. Thus, even though
he decisively highlights structural crisis as a “permanent and necessary
feature of society” (Nabers 2015, 3) and opposes the assumption that it
can be defined as “some momentary condition that surfaces from time to
time” (Nabers 2015, 2), the differentiation between a permanent and an
ephemeral perspective seems to be blurred at times.
Emphasizing that dislocation circumscribes the failure of society to be
ultimately constituted or stable, Nabers defines crisis as “a lack, deficiency,
or failure in the social fabric” (Nabers 2015, 3) but shortly afterwards
links society to its “constitutive lack, manifold crises, and voids” (Nabers
2015, 4), which raises the question how lack, crisis, and void can be
aligned if crisis as such is already specified as lack. Moreover, mentioning
‘manifold crises’ suggests that there must be multiple crises of some sort
that are conceptually different from crisis as a permanent attribute of
society, since how would crisis as the mere quality of lack, deficiency, or
failure be multiple in nature? Along these lines, he describes crisis as “a
lack, a void, or gap within the social fabric” (Nabers 2015, 118) but,
at the same time, states that dislocations “produce voids” (Nabers 2015,
100) in the first place, which, again conflates the notion of crisis and
void and urges to assume that dislocation does not merely point towards
the ontological quality of lack or failure. This becomes even clearer when
Nabers argues that “crises or dislocations […] must be seen as constant
political constructions” (Nabers 2015, 27). However, a permanent crisis
as such cannot be equated with discursive constructions, even though it
certainly needs to be constructed in one way or another for it to acquire
meaning and to be acted upon.
Despite resemblances to the general differentiation between struc-
tural permanent and constructed ephemeral crisis, Nabers’ work does
not merely reproduce this demarcation, but it indicates that perma-
nent dislocation itself must be subdivided into two distinct dimensions.
It is this multidimensionality that explains Nabers’ seemingly confusing
conceptualization of dislocation. Two steps must thus be taken:
(1) Multidimensionality of crisis. Dislocation cannot just be delineated

at an ephemeral and permanent level, but we must differentiate
between an ephemeral, a permanent as well as a recurring dimen-
sion of dislocation. Permanent dislocation can be specified as the
incompleteness of society, or its failure to achieve stability. It
is this dimension which is confused with repeated occurrences
of particular deficiencies in the social fabric. However, perma-
nent dislocation must become manifest in ever-new deficient social
structures, that is, in recurring dislocation. Only in its recurring
dimension can dislocation be continuous and multiple. It is finally
in constructed ephemeral dislocations that the constitutive struc-
tural destabilization of society eventually becomes visible. Nabers’
work must thus not be seen as generally inconsistent, but it instead
renders visible the complexity of dislocation that has yet to be
systematized.
22 N. KLOPF
(2) Relationality of crisis. Nabers remains particularly concerned with

a permanent dimension of dislocation, such that the relation
between permanent and ephemeral dislocation is not always
entirely clear. He states, for instance, that “[i]n the event of dislo-
cation, competing political forces will endeavor to hegemonize the
gap between purity and distortion” (Nabers 2017, 422), that is,
between the alleged stability of society and its anticipated disrup-
tion. This, however, urges to assume that dislocation is not always
used strictly to refer to an underlying quality of society, but it
appears to denote anticipated ruptures, which points towards an
ephemeral perspective on dislocation. Similarly, Nabers argues that
dislocation entails some sort of intensity, stating that there are
“bigger and smaller dislocations” (Nabers 2015, 27) and “the more
far-reaching the dislocation of a discourse is, the fewer principles
will still be in place after the crisis” (Nabers 2015, 126). This lays
bare that dislocation is not merely used to describe a permanent
structural feature of society, but this use of dislocation hints at
some sort of discursive construction. This becomes more explicit in
his later work where he links “crises of different degrees” (Nabers
2019, 267) to their construction through discursive practices that
“perform the crisis ‘into existence’” (Nabers 2019, 267) in the first
place. It will hence be necessary to clarify the link between the
different dimensions of dislocation, which leads us to systematizing
three distinct but interrelated dimensions of the term.
Nabers, nevertheless, offers an intriguing perspective on crisis as dislo-

cation and decisively foregrounds an understanding of dislocation as a
permanent attribute of society, which becomes particularly clear in his
analysis of the events on September 11, 2001 when he argues that “the
event of ‘9/11’ was not a crisis in itself, but laid bare the fundamentally
dislocated character of the American […] society” (Nabers 2015, 107).
Yet, the occasional inconsistencies in Nabers’ references to dislocation
hamper a systematization of crisis into distinct dimensions. Regardless
of this ambiguity, his work is fundamental for a genuine theoretical
engagement with crisis and provides a point of departure for advancing
a discourse theoretical framework that conceptualizes crisis on three
dimensions.
Following Nabers’ account of dislocation, crisis must first be under-
stood as a constitutive characteristic of society that denotes its general
impossibility to achieve stability. It thus becomes equivalent with a

permanent dimension of dislocation. Second, this permanent crisis-ridden
nature of society becomes manifest in recurringly deficient attempts to
stabilize any meaning—irrespective of whether this concerns identities
or the meaning of more abstract concepts like freedom or democracy.
Processes of meaning construction are ultimately futile endeavors that
represent the recurring dimension of crisis. Lastly, ephemeral crises are
rooted in exactly these precarious constructions and can thus only be
theorized thoroughly when paying attention to the underlying structural
dimensions of crisis. Nabers’ research will hence be advanced towards
a multidimensional approach to crisis that systematically scrutinizes its
permanent, recurring, and ephemeral dimension. In order to do so, the
ambiguity in the concept of dislocation must be overcome which can be
achieved by examining the development of dislocation in Laclau’s work.
In this way, dislocation is revealed as a multilayered concept that provides
the basis for developing a discursive framework of crisis as dislocation.
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"I'm sorry, old friend," he said. "I didn't mean it, you know I didn't."
I picked Cagu up and got him over my shoulder, and all the way to
the far exit it was so quiet in the Palace of Merrymaking that I could
hear my own heavy breathing.
In the bodyguards' quarters I laid Cagu out on the bunk, then faced
the dozen scowling bruisers who stared down at the still body.
"Cagu was a good man," I said. "Now he's dead. He died like an
animal ... for nothing."
Mull glowered at me. "You talk like we was to blame," he said. "Cagu
was my compeer too."
"Whose pal was he a thousand years ago?" I snapped. "What was he
—once? What were you? Vallon wasn't always like this. There was a
time when every man was his own Owner—"
"Look, you ain't of the Brotherhood—" one thug started.
"So that's what you call it? But it's just another name for an old racket.
A big shot sets himself up as dictator—"
"We got our Code," Mull said. "Our job is to stick up for the Owner ...
and that don't mean standing around listening to some japester callin'
names."
"Names, hell," I snapped. "I'm talking rebellion. You boys have all the
muscle and most of the guts in this organization. Why let the boss live
off the fat while you murder each other for the amusement of the
patrons? You had a birthright ... once. But it's up to you to collect it ...
before more of you go the way Cagu did."
There was an angry mutter. Torbu came in, face swollen.
"Hold it, you birds," Torbu said. "What's goin' on?"
"This guy! He's talkin' revolt and treason," somebody said.
"He wants we should pull some rough stuff—on Owner Qohey
hisself."
Torbu came up to me. "You're a stranger around Bar-Ponderone.
Cagu said you was okay. You worked me over pretty good ... and I
got no hard feelin's; that's the breaks. But don't try to start no trouble
here. We got our Code and our Brotherhood. We look out for each
other; that's good enough for us. Owner Qohey ain't no worse than
any other Owner ... and by the Code, we'll stand by him!"
"Listen to me," I said. "I know the history of Vallon: I know what you
were once and what you could be again. All you have to do is take
over the power. I can lead you to the ship I came here in. There are
briefing rods aboard, enough to show you—"
"That's enough," Torbu broke in. He made a cabalistic sign in the air.
"We ain't gettin' mixed up in no tabu ghost-boats or takin' on no
magicians and demons—"
"Hog wash! That tabu routine is just a gag to keep you away from the
cities so you won't discover what you're missing—"
"I don't wanna hafta take you to the Greymen, Drgon," Torbu growled.
"Leave it lay."
"These cities," I ploughed on. "They're standing there, empty, as
perfect as the day they were built. And you live in these flea-bitten
quarters, jammed inside the town walls, so the Greymen and
renegades won't get you."
"You wanna runs things here?" Mull put in. "Go see Qohey."
"Let's all go see Qohey!" I said.
"That's something you'll have to do alone," said Torbu. "You better
move on, Drgon. I ain't turnin' you in; I know how you felt about Cagu
gettin' killed and all—but don't push it too far."
I knew I was licked. They were as stubborn as a team of mules—and
just about as smart.
Torbu motioned; I followed him outside.
"You wanna turn things upside-down, don't you? I know how it is; you
ain't the first guy to get ideas. We can't help you. But we got a legend:
someday the Rthr will come back ... and then the Good Time will
come back too."
"What's the Rthr?" I said.
"Kinda like a big-shot Owner. There ain't no Rthr now. But a long time
ago, back when our first lives started, there was a Rthr that was
Owner of all Vallon, and everybody lived high, and had all their lives
... it's kind of like a hope we got—that's what we're waitin' for through
all our lives."
"Okay," I said. "Dream on, big boy. And while you're treasuring your
rosy dreams you'll get your brains kicked out, like Cagu." I turned
away.
"Listen, Drgon. It's no good buckin' the system: it's too big for one guy
... or even a bunch of guys ... but—"
I looked up. "Yeah?"
"... if you gotta stick your neck out—see Owner Gope." Abruptly Torbu
turned and pushed back through the door.
See Owner Gope, huh? Okay, what did I have to lose?
I stood in the middle of the deep-pile carpet in Gope's suite, trying to

keep my temper hot enough to supply the gall I needed to bust in on
an Owner in the middle of the night. He sat in his ceremonial chair
and stared at me impassively.
"With your help or without it," I said, "I'm going to find the answers."
"Yes, good Drgon," he said, not bellowing for once. "I understand. But
there are matters you don't understand."
"I understand too much," I snapped. "Do you remember Cagu?
Maybe you remember him as a newman, young, handsome, like a
god out of some old legend. You've seen him live his life. Was it a
good life? Did the promise of youth ever get paid off? And what about
yourself? Don't you ever wonder what you might have been ... back in
the Good Time?"
"Who are you?" asked Gope, his eyes fixed on mine. "You speak Old
Vallonian, you rake up the forbidden knowledge, and challenge the
very Powers...." He got to his feet. "I could have you immured, Drgon.
I could hand you to the Greymen, for a fate I shudder to name." He
turned and walked the length of the room restlessly, then turned back
to me and stopped.
"Matters stand ill with this fair world," he said. "Legend tells us that
once men lived as the High Gods on Vallon. There was a mighty
Owner, Rthr of all Vallon. It is whispered that he will come again—"
"Your legends are all true. You can take my word for that! But that
doesn't mean some supernatural sugar daddy is going along and bail
you out. And don't get the idea I think I'm the fabled answer to
prayers. All I mean is that once upon a time Vallon was a good place
to live and it could be again. Your cities and roads and ships are still
here, intact. But nobody knows how to run them and you're all afraid
to try. Who scared you off? What broke down the memory-recording
system? Why can't we all go to Okk-Hamiloth and use the Archives to
give everybody back what he's lost—"
"These are dread words," said Gope.
"There must be somebody behind it. Or there was once. Who is he?"
Gope thought. "There is one man pre-eminent among us: the Great
Owner, Owner of Owners: Ommodurad by name. Where he dwells I
know not. This is a secret possessed only by his intimates."
"What does he look like? How do I get to see him?"
Gope shook his head. "I have seen him but once, closely cowled. He
is a tall man, and silent. 'Tis said—" Gope lowered his voice, "—by his
black arts he possesses all his lives. An aura of dread hangs all about
him—"
"Never mind that jazz," I said. "How can I get close to him?"
"There are those Owners who are his confidants," said Gope, "his
trusted agents. It is through them that we small Owners learn of his
will."
"Can we enlist one of them?"
"Never. They are bound to him by ties of darkness, spells, and
incantations."
"I'm a fast man with a pair of loaded dice myself. It's all done with
mirrors. Let's stick to the point. How can I work into a spot with one of
these big shots?"
"Nothing easier. A driver and piper of such skills as your own can
claim whatever place he chooses."
"How about bodyguarding? Suppose I could take a heavy named
Torbu; would that set me in better with a new Owner?"
"Such is no place for a man of your abilities, good Drgon," Gope
exclaimed. "True, 'tis a place most close to an Owner, but there is
much danger in it. The challenge involves the most bloody hand-to-
hand combat, second only to the rigors of a challenge to an Owner
himself."
"What's that?" I snapped. "Challenge an Owner?"
"Be calm, good Drgon," said Gope, staring at me incredulously. "No
common man with his wits about him will challenge an Owner. He is a
warrior trained in the skills of battle. None less than another such may
hope to prevail."
I smacked my fist into my palm. "I should have thought of this sooner!
The cooks cook for their places, the pipers pipe ... and the best man
wins. It figures that the Owners would use the same system. But
what's the procedure? How do you get your chance to prove who can
own the best?"
"It is a contest with naked steel. It is the measure and glory of an
Owner that he alone stands ready to prove his quality against the
peril of death itself." Gope drew himself up with pride.
"What Owner can I challenge? How do I go about it? What's the
procedure?"
"Give up this course, good Drgon—"
"Where's the nearest buddy of the Big Owner?"
Gope threw up his hands. "Here, at Bar-Ponderone. Owner Qohey.
But—"
"And how do I call his bluff?" I asked.
Gope put a hand on my shoulder. "It is no bluff, good Drgon. It is long
now since last Owner Qohey stood to his blade to protect his place,
but you may be sure he has lost none of his skill. Thus it was he won
his way to Bar-Ponderone, while lesser knights, such as myself,
contented themselves with meaner fiefs."
"I'm not bluffing either, noble Gope," I said, stretching a point. "I was
no harness-maker in the Good Time."
Gope sat down heavily, raised his hands, and let them fall. "If I tell
you not, another will. But I will not soon find another piper of your
worth."
CHAPTER XV
Gaudy hangings of purple cut the light of the sun to a rich gloom in
the enormous, high-vaulted Audience Hall. A rustling murmur was
audible in the room as uneasy courtiers and supplicants fidgeted,
waiting for the appearance of the Owner.
It had been two months since Gope had explained to me how a
formal challenge to an Owner was conducted, and, as he pointed out,
this was the only kind of challenge that would help. If I waylaid the
man and cut him down, even in a fair fight, his bodyguards would
repay the favor before I could establish the claim that I was their
legitimate new boss.
I had spent three hours every day in the armory at Rath-Gallion,
trading buffets with Gope and a couple of the bodyguards. The thirty-
pound slab of edged steel had felt right at home in my hand that first
day—for about a minute. I had the borrowed knowledge to give me all
the technique I needed, but the muscle power for putting the
knowledge into practice was another matter. After five minutes I was
slumped against the wall, gulping air, while Gope whistled his sticker
around my head and talked.
"You laid on like no piper, good Drgon. Yet have you much to learn in
the matter of endurance."
After surviving two months of Gope's training I felt ready for anything.
Gope had warned me that Owner Qohey was a big fellow, but that
didn't bother me. The bigger they came, the bigger the target....
There was a murmur in a different key in the Audience Hall and tall
gilt doors opened at the far side of the room. A couple of liveried
flunkies scampered into view, then a seven-foot man-eater stalked
into the hall, made his way to the dais, turned to face the crowd....
He was enormous: his neck was as thick as my thigh, his features
chipped out of granite, the grey variety. He threw back his brilliant
purple cloak from his shoulders and reached out for the ceremonial
sword one of the flunkies was struggling with; his arm was like an oak
root. He took the sword with its sheath, sat down, and stood it
between his feet, his arms folded on top.
"Who has a grievance?" he spoke. The voice reverberated like the

old Wurlitzer at the Rialto back home.
This was my cue. There he was, just asking for it. All I had to do was
speak up. Owner Qohey would gladly oblige me.
I cleared my throat with a thin squeak, and edged forward, not very
far.
"I have one little item—" I started.
Nobody was listening. Up front a big fellow in a black toga was
pushing through the crowd. Everybody turned to stare at him, there
was a craning of necks. The crowd drew back from the dais leaving
an opening. The man in black stepped into the clear, flung back the
flapping garment from his right arm, and whipped out a long polished
length of razor-edged iron. It was beginning to look like somebody
had beaten me to the punch.
The newcomer stood there in front of Qohey with the naked blade
making all the threat that was needed. Qohey stared at him for a long
moment, then stood, gestured to a flunky. The flunky turned, cleared
his throat.
"The place of Bar-Ponderone has been claimed!" he recited in a shrill
voice. "Let the issue be joined!" He skittered out of the way and
Qohey rose, threw aside his purple cloak and cowl, and stepped
down. I pushed forward to get a better look.
The challenger in black tossed his loose garment aside, stood facing
Qohey in a skin-tight jerkin and hose; heavy moccasins of soft leather
were laced up the calf. He was magnificently muscled but Qohey was
bigger.
Qohey unsheathed his fancy iron and whirled it up overhead, made a
few practice swipes. He handled it like it was a lady's putter. I felt
sorry for the smaller man, who was just standing, watching him. He
really didn't have a chance.
I had got through to the fore rank by now. The challenger turned and I
saw his face. I stopped dead, while fire bells clanged in my head.
The man in black was Foster.
In dead silence Qohey and Foster squared off, touched their sword
points to the floor in some kind of salute ... and Qohey's slicer
whipped up in a vicious cut. Foster leaned aside, just far enough,
then countered with a flick that made Qohey jump back. I let out a
long breath and tried swallowing.
Qohey's blade flashed, cutting at Foster's head. Foster hardly moved.
Almost effortlessly, it seemed, he interposed his heavy weapon
between the attacking steel and himself. Clash, clang! Qohey hacked
and chopped ... and Foster played with him. Then Foster's arm
flashed out and there was blood on Qohey's wrist. A gasp went up
from the crowd. Now Foster took a step forward, struck ... and
faltered! In an instant Qohey was on him and the two men were
locked, chest to chest. For a moment Foster held, then Qohey's
weight told, and Foster reeled back. He tried to bring up the sword,
seemed to struggle, then Qohey lashed out again. Foster twisted,
took the blow awkwardly just above the hand guard, stumbled ... and
fell.
Qohey leaped to him, raised the sword—
I hauled mine half way out of its sheath and pushed forward.
"Let the man be put away from my sight," rumbled Qohey. He lowered
his immense sword, turned, pushed aside a flunky who had bustled
up with a wad of bandages. As he strode from the room a swarm of
bodyguards fanned out between the crowd and Foster. I could see
him clumsily struggling to rise, then I was shoved back, still craning
for a glimpse. There was something wrong here; Foster had acted
like a man suddenly half-paralyzed. Had Qohey doped him in some
way?
The cordon stopped pushing. I tugged at the arm of the bodyguard
beside me. "What's to be the fate of the man?" I asked.
"They're gonna immure him."
"You mean wall him up?"
"Yeah. Just a peep hole to pass chow in every day ... so's he don't
starve, see?"
"How long—?"
"He'll last; don't worry. After the Change, Owner Qohey's got a
newman—"
"Shut up," another bruiser said.
The crowd was slowly thinning. The bodyguards were relaxing,

standing in pairs talking. Two servants moved about where the fight
had taken place, making mystical motions in the air above the floor. I
edged forward, watching them. They seemed to be plucking
imaginary flowers.
I moved even farther forward to take a closer look, then saw a tiny
glint.... A servant hurried across, made gestures. I pushed him aside,
groped ... and my fingers encountered a delicate filament of wire. I
pulled it in, swept up more. The servants had stopped and stood
watching me, muttering. The whole area of the combat was covered
with the invisible wires, looping up in coils two feet high.
No wonder Foster had stumbled, had trouble raising his sword. He
had been netted, encased in a mesh of incredibly fine tough wire ...
and in the dim light even the crowd twenty feet away hadn't seen it. I
put my hand on my sword hilt, chewed my lower lip. I had found
Foster ... but it wouldn't do me—or Vallon—much good. He was on
his way to the dungeons, to be walled up until the next Change. And
it would be three months before I could legally make another try for
Qohey's place.
I would have to spend that time working on my swordplay, and hope
Foster could hold out. Maybe I could sneak a message—
A heavy blow on the back sent me spinning. Four bodyguards moved
to ring me in, clubs in hand. They were strangers to me, but across
the room I saw Torbu looming, looking my way....
"I saw him; he started to pull that fancy sword," said one of the
guards.
"He was asking me questions—"
"Unbuckle it and drop it," another ordered me. "Don't try anything!"
"What's this all about?" I said. "I have a right to wear a Ceremonial
Sword at an Audience—"
"Move in, boys!" The four men stepped toward me, the clubs came
up. I warded off a smashing blow with my left arm, took a blinding
crack across the face, felt myself going down—another blow, and
another: all killing ones....
Then I was aware of being dragged, endlessly, of voices barking
sharp questions, of pain.... After a long time it was dark, and silent,
and I slept.
I groaned and the sound was dead, muffled. I put out a hand and
touched stone on my right. My left elbow touched stone. I made an
instinctive move to sit up and smacked my head against more stone.
My new room was confining. I felt my face ... and winced at the touch.
The bridge of my nose felt different: it was lower than it used to be, in
spite of the swelling. I lay back and traced the pattern of pain. There
was the nose—smashed flat—with secondary aches around the
eyes. They'd be beautiful shiners, if I could see them. Now the left
arm: it was curled close to my side and when I moved it I saw why: it
wasn't broken, but the shoulder wasn't right, and there was a deep
bruise above the elbow. My knees and shin, as far as I could reach,
were caked with dried blood. That figured: I remembered being
dragged.
I tried deep-breathing; my chest seemed to be okay. My hands
worked. My teeth were in place. Maybe I wasn't as sick as I felt.
But where the hell was I? The floor was hard, cold. I needed a big
soft bed and a little soft nurse and a hot meal and a cold drink....
Foster! I cracked my head again and flopped back, groaned some
more. It still sounded pretty dead.
I swallowed, licked my lips, felt a nice split that ran down to the
bristles. I had attended the Audience clean-shaven. Quite a few hours
have passed since then. They had taken Foster away to immure him,
somebody said. Then the guards had tapped me, worked me over—
Immured! I got a third crack on the head. Suddenly it was hard to
breathe. I was walled up, sealed away from the light, buried under the
foundations of the giant towers of Bar-Ponderone. I felt their crushing
weight....
I forced myself to relax, breathe deep. Being immured wasn't the

same as being buried alive—not exactly. This was the method these
latter-day Vallonians had figured out to effectively end a man's life ...
without ending all his lives. They figured to keep me neatly packaged
here until my next Change, thus acquiring another healthy newman
for the kitchen or the stables. They didn't know the only Change that
would happen to me was death.
They'd have to feed me; that meant a hole. I ran my fingers along the
rough stone, found an eight-inch square opening on the left wall, just
under the ceiling. I reached through it, felt nothing but the solidness of
its thick sides. How far along the other open end was I had no way of
determining.
I was feeling dizzy. I lay back and tried to think, but everything
remained fuzzy.
I was awake again. There had been a sound. I moved, and felt
something hit my chest.
I groped for it; it was a small loaf of hard bread. I heard the sound
again and a second object thumped against me.
"Hey!" I yelled, "listen to me! I'll die in here. I'm not like the rest of you;
I won't go through a Change. I'll rot here until I die. Do you hear
me?..."
I listened. The silence was absolute.
"Answer me!" I screamed. "You're making a mistake...!"
I gave up when my throat got raw. I felt for the other item that had
been pushed in to me. It was a water bottle made of tough plastic. I
fumbled the cap off, took a swallow. It wasn't good. I tried the bread; it
was tough, tasteless. I lay and chewed and thought. As a world-saver
I was a bust. I had come a long long way and now I was going to die
in this reeking hole. I had a sudden vision of steaks uneaten, wines
undrunk, girls unhad, and life unlived. And then I had another
thought: if I never had them was it going to be because I hadn't tried?
Abruptly I was planning. I would keep calm and use my head. I
wouldn't wear myself out with screams and struggles. I'd figure the
angles, use everything I had to make the best try I could.
First, to explore the tomb-cell. It hurt to move but that didn't matter. I
felt over the walls, estimating size. My chamber was three feet wide,
two feet high, and seven feet long. The walls were relatively smooth,
except for a few mortar joints. The stones were big: eighteen inches
or so by a couple of feet. I scratched at the mortar; it was rock hard.
I wondered how they'd gotten me in. Some of the stones must be
newly placed ... or else there was a door. I couldn't feel anything as
far as my hands would reach. Maybe at the other end....
I tried to twist around: no go. The people who had built the cage knew
just how to dimension it to keep the occupant oriented the way they
wanted him. He was supposed to just lie quietly and wait for the
bread and water to fall through the hole above his chest.
That was reason enough to change positions. If they wanted me to
stay put I'd at least have the pleasure of defying the rules. And there
just might be a reason why they didn't want me moving around.
I turned on my side, pulled my legs up, hugged them to my chest,
worked my way down ... and jammed. My skinned knees and shins
didn't help any. I inched them higher, wincing at the pain, then braced
my hands against the floor and roof and with all my strength forced
my torso toward my feet....
Still no go. The rough stone was shredding my back. I moved my
knees apart; that eased the pressure a little. I made another inch.
I rested, tried to get some air. It wasn't easy: my chest was crushed
between my thighs and the stone wall at my back. I breathed
shallowly, wondering whether I should go back or try to push on. I
tried to move my legs; they didn't like the idea. I might as well go on.
It would be no fun either way and if I waited I'd stiffen up, while
inactivity and no food and loss of blood would weaken me further
every moment. I wouldn't do better next time—not even as well. This
was the time. Now.
I set myself, pushed again, I didn't move. I pushed harder, scraping
my palms raw against the stone. I was stuck—good. I went limp
suddenly. Then I panicked, in the grip of claustrophobia. I snarled,
rammed my hands hard against the floor and wall, and heaved—and
felt my lacerated back slip along the stone, sliding on a lubricating
film of blood. I pushed again, my back curved, doubled; my knees
were forced up beside my ears. I couldn't breathe at all now and my
spine was breaking. It didn't matter. I might as well break it, rip off all
the hide, bleed to death; I had nothing to lose. I shoved again, felt the
back of my head grate; my neck bent, creaking ... then I was through,
stretching out to flop on my back gasping, my head where my feet
had been. Score one for our side.
It took a long time to get my breath back and sort out my various
abrasions. My back was worst, then my legs and hands. There was a
messy spot on the back of my head and sharp pains shot down my
spine, and I was getting tired of breathing through my mouth instead
of my smashed nose. Other than that I'd never felt better in my life. I
had plenty of room to relax in, I could breathe. All I had to do was
rest, and after a while they'd drop some more nice bread and water in
to me....
I shook myself awake. There was something about the absolute
darkness and silence that made my mind want to curl up and sleep,
but there was no time for that. If there had been a stone freshly set in
mortar to seal the chamber after I had been stuffed inside, this was
the time to find it—before it set too hard. I ran my hands over the wall,
found the joints. The mortar was dry and hard in the first; in the
next.... Under my fingernail soft mortar crumbled away. I traced the
joint; it ran around a twelve-by-eighteen-inch stone. I raised myself on
my elbow, settled down to scratching at it.
Half an hour later I had ten bloody finger tips and a half-inch groove
cut around the stone. It was slow work, and I couldn't go much farther
without a tool of some sort. I felt for the water bottle, took off the cap,
tried to crush it. It wouldn't crush. There was nothing else in the cell.
Maybe the stone would move, mortar and all, if I shoved hard
enough. I set my feet against the end wall, my hands against the
block, and strained until the blood roared in my ears. No use.
I was lying there, just thinking about it, when I became aware of
something. It wasn't a noise exactly. It was more like a fourth-
dimensional sound heard inside the brain ... or the memory of one.
But my next sensation was perfectly real. I felt four little feet walking
gravely up my chest toward my chin.
It was the cat, Itzenca.
CHAPTER XVI
For a while I toyed with the idea of just chalking it up as a miracle.
Then I decided it would be a nice problem in probabilities. It had been
seven months since we had parted company on the pink terrace at
Okk-Hamiloth. Where would I have gone if I had been a cat? And
how could I have found me—my old pal from Earth?
Itzenca exhaled a snuffle in my ear.
"Come to think of it, the stink is pretty strong, isn't it? I guess there's
nobody on Vallon with quite the same heady fragrance. And what with
the close quarters here, the concentration of sweat, blood, and you-
name-it must be pretty penetrating."
Itz didn't seem to care. She marched around my head and back
again, now and then laid a tentative paw on my nose or chin, and
kept up a steady rumbling purr. The feeling of affection I had for that
cat right then was close to being one of my life's grand passions. I
couldn't keep my hands off her. They roamed over her scrawny
frame, fingered again the khaffite collar I had whiled away an hour in
fashioning for her aboard the lifeboat—
My head hit the stone wall with a crash I didn't even notice. In ten
seconds I had released the collar clasp, pulled the collar from
Itzenca's neck, thumbed the stiff khaffite out into a blade about ten
inches long, and was scraping at the mortar beyond my head at fever
heat.
They had fed me three times by the time the groove was nine inches
deep on all sides of the block, and the mortar had hardened. But I
was nearly through, I figured. I took a rest, then made another try at
loosening the block. I stuck the blade in the slot, levered gently at the
stone. If it was only supported on one edge now, as it would be if it
were a little less than a foot thick, it should be about ready to go. I
couldn't tell.
I put down my scraper, got in position, and pushed. I wasn't as strong
as I had been; there wasn't much force in the push. Again I rested
and again I tried. Maybe there was only a thin crust of mortar still
holding; maybe one more ounce of pressure would do it. I took a
deep breath, strained ... and felt the block shift minutely.
Now! I heaved again, teeth gritted, drew back my feet, and thrust
hard. The stone slid out with a grating sound, dropped half an inch. I
paused to listen: all quiet. I shoved again, and the stone dropped with
a heavy thud to the floor outside. With no loss of time I pushed
through behind it, felt a breath of cooler air, got my shoulders free,
pulled my legs through ... and stood, for the first time in how many
days....
I had already figured my next move. As soon as Itzenca had stepped
out I reached back in, groped for the water bottle, the dry crusts I had
been saving, and the wad of bread paste I had made up. I reached a
second time for a handful of the powdered mortar I had produced,
then lifted the stone. I settled it in place, using the hard bread as
supports, then packed the open joint with gummy bread. I dusted it
over with dry mortar, then carefully swept up the debris—as well as I
could in the total darkness. The bread-and-water man would have a
light and he was due in half an hour or so—as closely as I had been
able to estimate the time of his regular round. I didn't want him to see
anything out of the ordinary. I was counting on finding Foster filed
away somewhere in the stacks, and I'd need time to try to release
him.
I moved along the corridor, counting my steps, one hand full of bread
crumbs and stone dust, the other feeling the wall. There were narrow
side branches every few feet; the access ways to the feeding holes.
Forty-one paces from my slot I came to a wooden door. It wasn't
locked, but I didn't open it. I wasn't ready to use it yet.
I went back, passed my hole, continued nine paces to a blank wall.
Then I tried the side branches. They were all seven-foot stubs, dead
ends; each had the eight-inch holes on either side. I called Foster's
name softly at each hole ... but there was no answer. I heard no signs
of life, no yells or heavy breathing. Was I the only one here? That
wasn't what I had figured on. Foster had to be in one of these
delightful bedrooms. I had come across the universe to see him and I
wasn't going to leave Bar-Ponderone without him.
It was time to get ready for the bread man. I groped my way into one
of the side branches; Itzenca at my heels. With half a year's
experience at dodging humans behind her, she could be trusted not
to show at the crucial moment, I figured. I had just jettisoned my
handful of trash in the backmost corner of the passage when there
was a soft grating sound from the door. I flattened myself against the
wall.
A light splashed on the floor; it must have been dim but seemed to
my eyes like the blaze of noon. Soft footsteps sounded. I held my
breath. A man in bodyguard's trappings, basket in hand, moved past
the entry of the branch where I stood, went on. I breathed again. Now
all I had to do was keep an eye on the feeder, watch where he
stopped. I stepped to the corridor, risked a glance, saw him entering a
branch farther down the corridor. As he disappeared I made it three
branches farther along, ducked out of sight.
I heard him coming back. I flattened myself. He went by me, opened
the door. It closed behind him. Darkness, silence and despair settled
down once more.
The bread man had stopped at one cell only—mine. Foster wasn't
there.
It was a long wait for the next feeding but I put the time to use. First I
had a good nap; I hadn't been getting my rest while I scratched my
way out of my nest. I woke up feeling better and started thinking
about the next move. The door creaked, and I did a fast fade down a
side branch. The guard shuffled into view; now was the time. I moved
out—quietly, I thought, and he whirled, dropped the load and bottle,
and fumbled at his club hilt. I didn't have a club to slow me down. I
went at him, threw a beautiful right, square to the mouth. He went
over backwards, with me on top. I heard his head hit with a sound like
a length of rubber hose slapping a grapefruit. He didn't move.
I pulled the clothes off him, struggled into them. They didn't fit too well
and they probably smelled gamey to anybody who hadn't spent a
week where I had, but details like these didn't count anymore. I tore
his sash into strips and tied him. He wasn't dead—quite, but I had
reason to know that any yelling he did was unlikely to attract much
attention. I hoped he'd enjoy the rest and quiet until the next feeding
time. By then I expected to be long gone. I lifted the door open and
stepped out into a dimly lit corridor.
With Itzenca abreast of me I moved along in absolute stillness,
passed a side corridor, came to a heavy door; locked. We retraced
our steps, went down the side hall, found a flight of worn steps,
followed them up two flights, and emerged in a dark room. A line of
light showed around a door. I went to it, peered through the crack.
Two men in stained kitchen-slave tunics fussed over a boiling
cauldron. I pushed through the door.
The two looked up, startled. I rounded a littered table, grabbed up a
heavy soup ladle, and skulled the nearest cook just as he opened up
to yell. The other one, a big fellow, went for a cleaver. I caught him in
two jumps, laid him out cold beside his pal.
I found an apron, ripped it up, and tied and gagged the two slaves,
then hauled them into a storeroom.
I came back into the kitchen. It was silent now. The room reeked of
sour soup. A stack of unpleasantly familiar loaves stood by the oven.
I gave them a kick that collapsed the pile as I passed to pick up a
knife. I hacked tough slices from a cold haunch of Vallonian mutton,
threw one to Itzenca across the table, and sat and gnawed the meat
while I tried to think through my plans.
Owner Qohey was a big man to tackle but he was the one with the
answers. If I could make my way to his apartment and if I wasn't
stopped before I'd forced the truth out of him, then I might get to
Foster and tell him that if he had the memory playback machine I had
the memory, if it hadn't been filched from the bottom of a knapsack
aboard a lifeboat parked at Okk-Hamiloth.
Four 'if's' and a 'might'—but it was something to shoot at. My first
move would be to locate Qohey's quarters, somewhere in the Palace,
and get inside. My bodyguard's outfit was as good a disguise as any
for the attempt.
I finished off my share of the meat and got to my feet. I'd have to find
a place to clean myself up, shave—
The rear door banged open and two bodyguards came through it,
talking loudly, laughing.
"Hey, cook! Set out meat and wine for—"
The heavy in the lead stopped short, gaping at me. I gaped back. It
was Torbu.
"Drgon! How did you...." He trailed off.
The other bodyguard came past him, looked me over. "You're no
Brother of the Guard—" he started.
I reached for the cleaver the kitchen-slave had left on the table,
backed against a tall wall cupboard. The bodyguard unlimbered his
club.
"Hold it, Blon," said Torbu. "Drgon's okay." He looked at me. "I kind of
figured you for done-for, Drgon. The boys worked you over pretty
good."
"Yeah," I returned, "and thanks for your help in stopping it. You claim
to believe in the system around here. You think it's a great life, all fair
play and no holds barred and plenty of goodies for the winner. I know,
it was tough about Cagu, but that's life, isn't it? But what about the
business I saw in the Audience Hall? You guys try not to think about
that angle, is that it?"
"It was the Owner's orders," said Blon. "What was I gonna do, tell him
—?"
"Never mind," I said. "I'll tell him myself. That's all I want: just a short
interview with the Owner—minus the wire nets."
"Wow ..." drawled Torbu; "yeah, that'd be a bout." He turned to Blon.
"This guy's got a punch, Blon. He don't look so hot but he could swap
buffets with the Fire Drgon he's named after. If he's that good with a
long blade—"
"Just lend me one," I said, "and show me the way to his apartment."
"I didn't like the capers with the wires, neither did most of the boys.
We're Brothers of the Guard," said Torbu. "We ain't got much but we
got our Code. It don't say nothing about wires. If we don't back up our

Global Crisis Theory Method and The Covid 19 Pandemic Nadine Klopf Full Chapter

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Global Crisis: Theory, Method and the

Covid-19 Pandemic Nadine Klopf

ISSN 2946-5559 ISSN 2946-5567 (electronic)

Cover illustration: © Dennis Cox/Alamy Stock Photo

I am indebted to Dirk Nabers for his continuous support throughout

Kiel Nadine Klopf

It seems as if our world is shaped by crises that unravel habitual patterns

must be understood as a constitutive structural feature of society, without,

transnational, national, and regional relations. The global character of

Structure of the Book

Lastly, the existence of temporary crises, which prominently shape

1 From Crisis Decision-Making to Discourse Theory 1

5 The Ephemeral Dimension of Dislocation 107

Fig. 7.1 Covid-19 in U.S. governmental statements,

Table 2.1 Hjelmslev’s sign model 32

From Crisis Decision-Making to Discourse

1.1 Crisis Decision-Making

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature 1

stimulating events, directly provoking certain decision-making responses.

decision-making. Whereas he already tentatively questions the dimen-

Thus, departing from Hermann’s account of events towards what

In proposing a two-dimensional definition of interstate crises, Brecher

1.1.1 Summary and Critique

by decision-makers instead of merely being recognized in their inter-

(1) Discursive construction of ephemeral crises. Relying on construc-

(2) Permanence of structural crisis. These constructions merely present

that crises are always constructed in relation to a particular state iden-

In contrast to decision-making approaches, Weldes’ analysis of the

radical uncertainty as to what actors’ interest are, “then how is it that

sophisticated approaches to constructivist crisis theory. He defines crisis as

the identification of failure as crisis remains a matter of social construction.

1.2.1 Summary and Critique

(1) Discursive construction of ephemeral crises. A discourse theoretical

becomes particularly important when it, too, hints at a struc-

It is at this point that crisis can no longer solely be treated as a tempo-

and, at the same time, through ephemeral constructions is not mutu-

1.3 Critical Realism

tendencies and counter-tendencies tips in favour of crisis” (Jessop and

1.3.1 Summary and Critique

(1) Discursive construction of ephemeral crises. While it is certainly

crisis remains located at a given point in time, even if pre-

1.4 Discourse Theory

the Laclauian notion of dislocation into crisis theorizing, he renders it

1.4.1 Summary and Critique

(1) Multidimensionality of crisis. Dislocation cannot just be delineated

(2) Relationality of crisis. Nabers remains particularly concerned with

Nabers, nevertheless, offers an intriguing perspective on crisis as dislo-

impossibility to achieve stability. It thus becomes equivalent with a

Brecher, Michael. 1979. “State Behavior in International Crisis: A Model.”

Hermann, Charles F. 1988a. “Crisis Stability in Soviet-American Strategic Rela-

I stood in the middle of the deep-pile carpet in Gope's suite, trying to

"Who has a grievance?" he spoke. The voice reverberated like the

The crowd was slowly thinning. The bodyguards were relaxing,

I forced myself to relax, breathe deep. Being immured wasn't the

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