We had a very rich and productive conversation this week with Josep Rafanell i Orra around the new and updated edition of his book En finir avec le capitalisme thérapeutique (éditions météores, 2022). But here I just want to entertain an early moment in the book that has some importance for some ongoing discussions. In the introduction that he writes for the new edition, Rafanell engages in a rare and honest exercise in self-critique. This is what he writes:
“Dans mon livre, je défendais une politique du soin. Onze ans après, je me livrerai bien volontiers à une autocritique rétrospective : la politique me semble destinée, irrémédiablement, à devenir une métapolitique, si nous entendons par là l’inévitable ré-institution d’identités qu’il faut représenter. Retour éternel de la police avec la violence de ses abstractions. Je pense que la politique, le politique (que vaut-t-elle encore aujourd’hui cette distinction?) nous condamne à nous absenter des mondes pluriels de la communauté et à neutraliser les effectuations de la différence” [1].
A lot could change in a matter of a decade. Indeed, a lot has changed for some of us, and it seems that for Orra it is no different. He is willing to admit it. He is no longer interested in defending a “politics of care” (or a hyperbolic politics), and not because it has become a recursive cliché in the empty chatter of governing metropolitan progressivism (I think of NYC or Colau’s Barcelona), but more fundamentally because the full affirmation of politics today can only contribute to the ever expansive calculative scheme of representational politics; a representational enframing that has become defunct and emptied out with the rise of administrative rationality evolving from the internal premises of political liberalism. It is true that the liberal democratic project from its inception was too weak to deal with indirect powers, and its long-lasting solution has been to engage in practices of optimization and value dispensation. But no amount of social representation can minimize effective domination. No one could defend this except in bad faith. The destiny of politics now transformed into metapolitical saturation can only muster social existence into predatory lines.
But there is another sense in which the metapolitical collapse could be understood. At least this is where I would like to displace Rafanell’s lucid intuition: the metapolitical destiny of politics emerges in the wake of the fault line between the metapolitical conditions of politics and political representation and mediation as such. Obviously, this is the problem that, already in the 1960s, the German jurist Ernst Böckenförde had to confront in his now famous theorem: the liberal state lives through conditions that it can no longer guarantee or promote.
In other words, the metapolitical conditions required for secularization have evolved (now fully realized through the West with different intensities and semblances) into the collapse of society-state mediations, turning to police powers to maintain the ‘one piece garment’ of social life. Theoretically, the dissociation between politics and its metapolitical conditions has led to attempts at generating sedative hegemonies that are always furiously defended – even at the expense of their failures – through rhetorical bravado. So, the decline of metapolitical condition entails the passage from the conditions of social contact to the endgame of the flexible and coercive management of indirect powers.
.
Notes
1. Josep Rafanell i Orra. En finir avec le capitalisme thérapeutique (éditions météores, 2022), 21.
Today the political surface only seems to obfuscate the analyses of the real forces that move at different pace underneath the crust. When recently Emmanuel Macron referred to the popular unrest protest as “la foule…pas de légitimité face au peuple qui s’exprime souverain a traversé ses élus”, he was not only speaking as the sovereign, but as something more specific; that is, as an administrator. If the old sovereign stood metonymically for the totality of the whole constituent body, Macron’s political rhetoric cleverly distinguishes between the “groups” or “masses” (this is also the same term that Sigmund Freud deployed in his contestation to Le Bon’s theory of the multitudes in 1921), and the institutional mediation of the “People”. What is interesting, in any case, is the cleavage between the two figures becoming well delimited: one being on the side of political legitimacy, the other on its inverse pole of apolitical illegitimacy. The logistics of administration (or what I have called in recent research the administrative nexus) serves to conjoint this specific separation. By the same token, we should not let pass the occasion to recall that if Macron is a hyperbolic political commander of the West, it is precisely because he stands as the executive force at the helm of the administrative legitimacy (as a political elite, he was shaped at the École nationale d’administration).
What do we mean by administrator in this specific historical conjuncture? It goes without saying that modern French public law has a long and important history of droit administratif, which in France is structured around a dual jurisdictional system enshrined by an extensive legal case law and its juridical principles. The French system of droit administratif, however, is not to be understood as an amalgamation a posteriori of classical separation of powers, but rather a concrete institutional design within public powers. This was an institutionalist design that profoundly impacted Schmitt’s thought on the concrete order in the first decades of the twentieth century. The bureaucratic institutionalization was an integral organizational mechanism of legislative congressional practice. The rise of the administrative state differs from droit administratif insofar as it represents liquidation, as well as a thorough transformation of the modern system from within. In this sense, the rise of the administrative state is an excedent to bureaucratic legitimation – and Schmitt was right to characterize as the ‘motorization of law’, a force that he saw unleashing already in the overall tendency of European public law of the 1930s, although only taken to its fulfillment in the United States (something that Schmitt did not foresee) [1]. And if we were to sketch out a minimal phenomenological reduction of administrative law today we could state that it consists of the overflow of executive power through the exercise of the principle of delegation and the extension of intra-agency policy-police enforcement. What early on administrative law professors termed the revolution of an ‘administrative process’ has now come to full extension by subsuming the tripartite structure of the separation of powers to the administrative oversight of the space of social reproduction.
That Macron can only frame his political analysis in terms of “la foule” entails that he is already occupying (at least tendentially; and I can not speak myself for the concrete institutional transformation of the executive office in the French political system) and envisioning role of executive branch as a presidential administration. In an academic legal article that will exert an enduring influence in American public law, “Presidential Administration” (Harvard Law Review, 2001), Judge Elena Kagan stated that the era of executive administration had arrived; which rather than the supremacy of an institutional branch over others, it aspired to defend the orderly equilibrium to the total functioning administration of the whole system [2]. It is important to note that today’s ascent of the administrative state across the Western Anglo-Saxon public law is not rooted in maximization of bureaucratic rationalization nor in the authority of the charismatic office of a Reichspräsident as in the Weimar Republic (I have previously shown its difference), but rather in the production of delegation and deference of political authority that flows from executive power, while remaining bounded within a logistics of balancing and equity (in fact, the notion of equity has become the administrative unity of enforcing a positive production of exceptionality, but this is a discussion for another occasion). In other words – and as paradoxically as this may sound – the Macronite experiment with executive action based on Article 49 of the French Constitution, bypassing Congress, is a thoroughly habitual and normalized practice in the American legal system, which have led some jurists to claim a last farewell to the legislative body of the State – the same branch that Woodrow Wilson would describe as the ‘body of the nation’ in his seminal Congressional Government (1885).
All things considered, whenever Macron’s technocratic politics are described there is an amnesia to the concrete fact that Americanism is not just economic planning or the drive towards indexes of productivity and financial credit standards; it is also a specific governmental stylization. And this stylization is the administrative government, whose stronghold on public law should not be taken for granted. This means at face value that the empire of judges and congressmen (the “elected representatives” upheld by the Macron internal doctrine) is ultimately marginalized in the new center stage government occupied by an elite cadre of administrators and regulators in charge of grand policydesigns in virtues of expertise, rationality, adjudication, and compartmentalized decision-making process – that Kagan recommended should orient “a coherent policy with distance from politics and public opinion” [3].
Contrary to Macron’s republicanist rhetoric, the true and concrete ethos of the administrator is no longer at the level of classical modern political representation (elections, legislative body, judicial restraintment), but rather on the production of statute rulemaking balancing (equity) that unifies the aggregation of private preferences and calculations to the specific determinations of broad and discretionary public interests. At the level of the analytics of ideal types, this transformation sediments the passage from the political elite to the executive administrator of new normative indirect powers. The ‘americanization’ of Macron’s policymaking universe is centered on the exclusion of political governance or judgement in favor of abstract administrative principles (the so-called ecological transition tied to metropolitan or specific territorial energy hubs, to cite one example) and optimal regulatory determinations. What emerges at the threshold of modern republican politics is, then, the rise of a fragmented ‘la foule’ and the activation of police-powers (legality) through the procedures of statute enactment oriented at the unruly state of contemporary civil society.
.
.
Notes
1. Carl Schmitt. “The Plight of European Jurisprudence”, Telos, March, 1990, 35-70.
The dispute concerning the legitimacy of modernity also implies the question of the reformation, which transferred the power away from the hands of priests into a new priesthood of everyman’s consciousness. This was the Lutheran self-affirmation of economic theology (it has been laid out by Monica Ferrando’s recent work). The new priesthood implied a consolidation of the power over interpretation, since the biblical sources were now opened to battle over meaning itself. The interests over the Hebrew sources were not new, as a contemporary scholar has shown, but it was of central interest to the hermeneutics of sola scriptura over the scrutiny of the canons [1]. If this is the case, how come Thomas Hobbes account of the religious sources point to a different dimension of revelation? As we know, Hobbes was not alien to the ancient Hebrew sources, but his treatment and conclusions were entirely misplaced. Here I want to briefly account for this divergence.
In reality, it was Carl Schmitt who best confronted this problem in a late essay form 1964, published in “Der Staat, “Die Vollendete Reformation” by asserting that Hobbes’ place in the constellation of the modern political theology of the reform was rooted in the invention of the autonomy of the political. Schmitt works his way through Hobbes’ second bibliography in a subtle way, reminding us that the theorem “Jesus is the Christ” meant the artificial creation of a political technique over the battle over “meaning and truth” that fueled the European wars of religion. Hobbes, contrary to the theologians, became the founder of a counter-power: the confrontation between Leviathan and Behemoth. Indeed, for Hobbes the “reformed theologian” stands as the Behemoth, but it has yet to come to terms with the question posed by Leviathan as who will decide. This is for Schmitt the kerygmatic theme of the New Testament, which will only be decided at the end of times, but meanwhile the decision through authority is the only way in which the problem of “civil war could be neutralized. As a commentator of his time, Schmitt was directing a direct arrow to Rudolf Sohm’s idea of reform, which ultimately coincided with an economic theology bypassing the fact that the era of concrete political theology had its ultimate principle in authority of the sovereign’s decision [2].
Although never registered directly, the lesson of Hobbes for Schmitt resided in circumventing the rationality of the scientist and the technocrat, going as far as to mention Simone Weil’s critique of the codependency of the total state with the essence of technology [3]. The question of decision was Hobbes’ metaphysical solution to an “intra-evangelical war”, which introduced the immanentization of indirect powers unto the flatten space of civil society. In other words, for Schmitt, the true father of the “spirit and letter” of the Reformation was neither Luther nor Calvinism, but Hobbes’ Leviathan insofar as it was able to offer a third option against the secularization of a universal priesthood of the autonomous economic theology. But this is only the beginning of the problems, since we know that Hobbes’ political philosophy was dependent on “civil society” preparing the conditions for the liquidation of anti-normative decisionism. Schmitt himself was aware of this towards the end of his monograph on Hobbes as a farewell to state form. Hence, the epoch of political theology was brought to an end not through reformation, but through the ever-expansion of the operative sphere of the concept of the civil. The triumphant economic theology that has only intensified well into our days adequates to the fullest extent to the infrastructure of Hobbes’s project.
If this is the case, the differentiation that Schmitt establishes in Political Theology II between ius reformandi and ius revolutionis collapses, given that the solicitation of the autonomy of the social requires an ever-expanding outsourcing of administrative apparatus that will turn legality into the bin of administrative application (Verwaltungsrechts einzufügen unwissenschaftlich) [4]. And in the face of administration political theology loses its grip, and economic theology silently takes hold. The subsequent internal triumph of the verwaltungsrechts einzufügen will bring to an end the epoch of political theology. The ideal of the Reform took this challenge and brought it to the very anthropological core of humanity.
.
.
Notes
1. Eric Nelson. The Hebrew Republic (Harvard University Press, 2010), 8.
2. Carl Schmitt. “Die vollendete Reformation: Bemerkungen und Hinweise zu neuen Leviathan-Interpretationen”, Der Staat, Vol.4, 1965, 51-69.
Some will surely remember the figure of the painter Tirtorelli in Kafka’s The Trial who executes portraits of monotone and serious judges and magistrates on demand. The aura of these portraits is of absolute austereness and seriousness, as if Kafka wanted to capture the lackluster liturgy of the empire of judges and their repetitive exercise of legal adjudication. This seriousness, however, must be contrasted to the comic dimension of bureaucracy, that is known to anyone who might have glimpsed at the administrative processes that control even the tiniest details of daily life (the literary and cultural objects are too many to even reference them). The comic and the serious are also visual tones in the exhibition of modern public powers. If the empire of judges is gray and inexpressive, the bureaucratic agencies have been rendered as playful even if they repeatedly yield tragic effects on anyone entrapped in the legal construction of the “case”.
I recall this, because if today we are in the rise of an administrative state, this fundamentally entails a collapse of the bureaucratic comedy and the judge’s seriousness. The joining of the two spheres implies not only a transformation of the legal culture in the Anglo-Saxon tradition, but also a confusion regarding both the comic and serious that now form an integral techno-political unit. As humor eclipses, comedy becomes controlled, assessed, and weighted against what must be free-standing seriousness each and every time. This integralist institutional imagination, at first sight, could be taken as a return of theology of sorts; but, according to Hans Urs Von Balthasar, it is quite the contrary: the integralist suture is so alien to Catholic theology and the mystery that it only deserves to be taken as a distance from the divine. As Von Balthasar writes in Il Complesso antiromano (1974):
“For humor is a mysterious but unmistakable charism inseparable from Catholic faith, and neither the “progressives” nor the “integralists” seem to possess it—the latter even less than the former. Both of these tend to be faultfinders, malicious satirists, grumblers, carping critics, full of bitter scorn, know-it-alls who think they have the monopoly of infallible judgment; they are self-legitimizing prophets—in short, fanatics.” [1]
And Von Balthsar reminds us that fanatic is a word that comes from fanum – “holy place” – which alludes to the site that the guardian must guard to keep the divinity at bay. In the same way today, the fanatic is the nexus that organizes the administrative process that covers all spheres of human activity and purpose. If this is the case, then one could say that our current society is “fanatical” not because of the new religious factions or outnumbering of social cults, but rather because new legal administrators exert their control in the guise of priests that speak the rhetoric of a social intelligible common good. This is, indeed, the ultimate comic aspiration of a very seriousness legal process (it impacts literally every living species) in which the precondition to safeguards the “good” must be exerted as to keep everyone away from the irreducibility of what is good, beautiful, and just.
The seriousness of the administrative agents is transformed into a perpetual laughter that secures a social bond where no transgression and sensation is possible. Against this backdrop, we see how Gianni Carchia was correct when suggesting that the passage from comedy to enjoyment (divertimento) renders impossible the laughter of redemption in a life that ceases to be eventful [2]. In this way, comedy mutates into a mere socialization of laughter. And the impossibility of entering in contact with the comic initiates the commencement of the social parody.
.
.
Notes
1. Hars Von Balthasar. Il Complesso antiromano. Come integrare il papato nella chiesa universale (Queriniana, 1974), 304.
2. Gianni Carchia. “Lo cómico absoluto y lo sublime invertido”, en Retórica de lo sublime (Tecnos, 1990), 153.
In his chapter on the radical theology of abundance and ethics of Karl Barth, Mårten Björk discloses a central concept to the reformist theologian: the suum cuique, a term that prima facie could be rendered in natural law definition of legal justice, inherited from Roman lawyer Ulpian, as “may all get their due”. In the thomist tradition the legal notion of epikeia promptly became equity as the moral supervision of law’s principle (ius) understood as the application of the fair and the objective good. The justification of the balancing of aequum became a regulatory mediation on the grounds of a fictive principle of nature as moral reasoning, which has been well documented by Stephen Humphreys [1]. What makes Barth’s drawing on the notion of suum cuique in his interwar pamphlet Church and State (originally entitled Justification and Law, 1938), on the contrary, is precisely that it is not reducible to equity, but rather as Björk explains it: “the limit to our life, a limit brought forth by death itself, is in the end the vast chams that posits the creature as create of God…and this has ethical and political consequences” [2]. This is telling, and my aim here is to supplement the discussion in “Abundance and Scarcity” by showing its radical asymmetry with the reasonableness of the natural law. Barth’s anti-activist Church (although not neutral in the wake of the total state of the 30s) and apathy towards morality, stands as a sui generis bearing.
First, in the moral natural law tradition of equity (epikeia) “giving each one their due” becomes a strict legal-authoritative command principle on the reasonableness of nature centered on the ontology of the person. It is quite the opposite for Barth who does not favor a constant moral adjudication, since the separation between Church and State presupposes a previous divine justification that belongs exclusively to the Church, but not to the state. In fact, law practiced on the condition of natural principles will undermine the authority of the liberal positivist state, which Barth defends vehemently, making the case for its coherence with the teachings of the New Testament: “The democratic conception of the state is justifiable expansion of the of the New Testament…Christians must not only endure the earthly state but they must will it as a just state, not as a “Pilate” state” [3]. It is not surprising, then, that Barth wrote this tract openly defending the authority of the modern positivist state, contrasting it to the anti-statist unjust pretarian judgement of the trial of Jesus. This makes sense given that the pretorian ius honorarium could be understood, at least in part, as belonging to the tradition of the moral balancing of equity between morality and norms (just as the two irreducible kingdoms) [4]. Barth’s defense of the positivist state is even contrasted to natural law, which for Barth is incommensurable with the word of God: “We cannot measure what law is [in the State] by any idea of natural law…” [5].
Accepting the primacy of the equity of a substantive bonum will not only serve to override the authority of the state, but also, and more importantly, to flatten out theology’s monopoly over divine justification. At this point Barth is quite explicitly in saying that this is what took place – and I think he is correct, specially if we take into account that the degenerate legality in Nazi Germany and Stalinist Russia was not an abuse of positivism, but a consequence of the open-ended common and natural law principles to the point of distortion – in the wake of fascism and Bolshevism in the interwar years of Europe. Barth writes with this in mind against artificial heavens on earth, as part of a hyperbolic “politicizing from above”:
“Fascism and Bolshevism alike will be dethroned and the true order of human affairs will arise. Not as heaven (not even a miniature heaven) on earth! No, this “true order” will be able to arise only upon this earth and within the present age, but this will take the place really and truly, already upon this earth, and this present age, in this world of sin and sinners…this is what the Church has to offer to the state…” [6].
The political domination of the total state amounted to a conflation between the lapsarian condition of man and the theology of eternal life. The passage or mediation between the two dimensions, which he also described as a “tailor made garment” was the suum cuique, understood as a limit to life and death beyond morality and biological reductions. Barth insisted on the principle of separation in face of every temptation of technico-rational closures. Thus, by externalizing divine justification to the sphere of theological eternity, Barth’s conception of “giving one’s due” was radically disambiguated from the Nazi motto “Jedem das Seine” (to each his own) in the concentration camp of Buchenwald in 1937, made possible by the opened force of common law adjudication against the state positivist authority (understood by Nazi legal scholars as “too Jewish”). This was the barbaric dereliction of duty of the state becoming what Barth called a “clerical state” [7]. Barth’s ethical limit on finite and eternal life, so well reconstructed in Björk’s brilliant monograph, can only be a witness to a ‘world passeth away’ to which no priestly jurists have the last word unless catastrophic consequences are expected. The ethical response to the lapsarian condition was a radical drift from the dangers of natural absolute rationalism that was directly implicated in the arousal of immanent powers and the reduction of the population as mere administration of doctrine of last things through consciousness and not grace. The suum cuique introduced a radical exteriority in which all men became “strangers” (to the Church, national identity, the community, to the social) whose proper involvement pertained to the eternal mystery of life and death.
.
.
Notes
1. Stephen Humphreys. “Equity before ‘Equity’”, Modern Law Review, 2022, 1-37.
2. Mårten Björk. The politics of immortality in Rosenzweig, Barth, and Goldberg: Theology and Resistance Between 1914-1945 (Bloomsbury, 2022), 115.
3. Karl Barth. “Church and State”, in Community, State, and Church (Anchor Books, 1960), 146.
This Wednesday the Supreme Court of the United States will consider arguments in Moore v. Harper, coming out of the North Carolina State Legislature, which revolves around a specific doctrine: the Independent State Legislature. When the legislature of North Carolina tried to pass a new redrawing district boundaries for electoral purposes, the state supreme court decided against it, concluding that the map violated provisions of the constitution affecting free elections and the equal protection clause of the federal constitution. On other hand, the sponsors of the Independent State doctrine claim that state legislatures enjoy unsubordinated independence from the state supreme court, acting freely from the structure of state constitutions. The defenders of ISL doctrine “interpret” the term legislature as free-floating affirmation of constituent power when it comes to matters of voting under Election Clause of Article I in which legislatures decide on “the times, places, and manner of holding elections for senators and representatives”. Hence, ISL doctrine is fundamentally about political-theological question of ‘who decides?’ (quis judicabit) in the structure of federalism. But insofar as it is the question of ‘who decides’ it is also about what orients application today: ‘who interprets?’
When legal practice becomes open to interpretation each word immediately becomes a door. Each term becomes contested meaning as a free-floating signifier where balancing will ultimately serve particular political purposes. It is no coincide this ISL doctrine has come to the surface at this precise moment – after the 2020 election results – when, in fact, for most of the history it has been rarely used [1]. What does a floating and independent legislature power entail for electoral ends? What is of interest here is precisely how, in the name of a direct justification of constituent power (‘The People’), ISL represents a truly indirect power within the structure of federalism and state-constitutions. By name and function, indirect powers are understood as external interreference within a structure of stable organized powers. Now, the novelty of the ISL doctrine is that this indirect power emerges from within as it were, capable of upending judicial review and constitutional authority. The stability of ‘who will decide’ becomes an indirect power that, potentially, could even override state elections wherever political asymmetries exist between the legislature, governorship, and judges at the courts.
We know from the history of political thought that indirect powers (the undecidability of who will decide) leads to a stasiazon or internal civil war between the constituted powers. In other words, it is with the ISL doctrine that we can now see the true nature of what I called in the beginning of 2021 a legal civil war in Trump’s efforts to overturn the election results. A legal civil war is far more intense than the political partisan struggle of the movement – even if, at times, they can both cooperate as joint partners – since indirect force tries to ambush the constitutional organization of powers. The legal civil war of direct democracy comes full circle: unmitigated legislative force will constitute itself as the unstrained guardian of the question ‘who will decide’. For the champions of ISL doctrine legislature has no penumbra: it is always “We”. And it is no coincide that, as it has been shown by one of the great scholars of American federalism, a legislative supremacy once defended by Madison could allow for the “raising of every conflict to a constitutional crisis and civil war” [2].
In other words, what at first sight appears as total independence at state level actually facilitates its oppositum: the production of “standing” for higher courts litigation. Contrary to common opinion, the function of constitutional interpretation is full of cracks due to its brittle fabric: it allows for the indirect powers to be justified vis-à-vis the naturalism of the People as ‘original electors’ without mediations [3]. The historical irony cannot escape us at this point, since the American Revolution was waged against a legislature (the British Parliament) and legitimized through broad voting. This was the great innovation of Atlantic republican political theory. The question is whether a constitutional ‘interpretation’ could wage a battle against indirect powers facilitated by the revolutionary penumbra of ‘who will decide?’.
The conservative Spanish political theorist Jesus Fueyo used to say that given that politics is not strictly a science, it always requires an attitude to vest the political. This holds true especially for the reactionary tradition given their sharp and distinctive rhetorical style, which at times it can outweigh the substantive orientation of its principles, doctrines, and immediate commitments. The attitude towards the political defines and frames the energy of the political, and it helps to define a politonomy, or the laws of its political conception. This is particularly relevant in Joseph De Maistre’s work, who doctrinally was a monarchist, legitimist, and, if we are to take Isaiah Berlin’s words, also a dogmatic precursor of fascism [1]. For a classical liberal like Berlin, De Maistre’s critique of liberalism all things considered (contractualism, deism, separation of powers, public deliberation, and individual civil liberties) amounted to a fascist threat. This reading crosses the line towards doctrinal and substance but it says little about its politonomy. On the contrary, what surprises (even today, as I was rereading some of his works) about De Maistre is the recurrent emphases on political autonomy, which automatically puts him in the modernist camp against doctrinal theologians and otherworldly moralists who do not truly classify as counterrevolutionaries. But insofar as the counterrevolution presupposes the revolutionary event, we are inhabiting the modern epoch. Furthermore, and as Francis Oakley has shown, even De Maistre’s classical ultramontane book The Pope (1819) emphases the authority of the pope against history, tradition, and the conciliarist structure of the Church [2]. In this sense, De Maistre taken politonomically is no different from Hamilton’s energetic executive or the sovereign decisionism that put an end to the confessional state.
In fact, De Maistre’ conception of politics measures itself against a “metaphysics of politics” which he links to German universality of the modern subject and Protestantism. Against all ideal types, for De Maistre politics is always best understood as politonomy; that is, a second order political authority that validates itself against the insecurity, unpredictability, and radical disorder of the modern revolutionary times [3]. For the counterrevolutionary position to take hold, the volatile modern reality of the political needs first to be accepted as well as the positivist emergence of modern constitutionalism. Indeed, De Maistre’s critique of written constitutions in the “Essay on the Generative Principle of Political Constitutions” is leveled against the assumption that text is all there is to preserve order and institutional arrangement.
De Maistre argues that there is also an unwritten dimension that functions to preserve authority and genealogical force of the political regarding who has the last word in all matters of public decisions (something not too strange in contemporary jurisprudence). Of course the function of the unwritten for De Maistre has a divine origine but its assignment is to control the proliferation of discussion that weakens institutional authority, thus pouring a war over the meaning of words (this was the same problem that Hobbes confronted regarding interpretation). De Maistre’s attack against textualism and incredulity of the written text of positive law was exerted in the name of a defense of a sovereign transcendence as the sole guardian of the institutional stability [4]. This is why De Maistre defends a combination of traditional unwritten Common Law with sovereign rule guarding institutional continuity. The politonomic condition elucidates that institutional arrangement is proper to a concrete order, and not doctrinally about the Church regarding secular temporal matters. This is why the Pope enjoys sovereign immunity from the doctrinal production of the Church that allows for the emerge of politonomy.
In a way this becomes even more obvious from what at first appears as De Maistre’s most controversial and antimodern treatise Letters on the Spanish Inquisition, where he takes neither the role of the theologian nor of Hispanic monarchic providence, but rather that of modern autonomy of the political conditioned by civil power: “…any great political disorder – any attack against the body of the state – be prevented or repelled by the adoption of energetic means” [5]. Notwithstanding the different ends, this is not very different from The Federalist’s conception of executive power as energetic for second order of institutional threats. What’s more, emptying all christological substances of the Inquisition, De Maistre defines its practice from a politonomical viewpoint: “The Inquisition in its origin was an institution demanded and reestablished by the King of Spain, under very difficult and extraordinary circumstances…under control, not of the priesthood, but of the civil and royal authority” [6]. For De Maistre even a religious and clearly antimodern institution like the Inquisition was a first a political institution that was required to obey the “lawful and written will of the Sovereign” [7].
This polarity also attests to De Maistre’s politonomy: in a context where positive sola scriptura triumphed, he recommended the internal genealogical control and sovereign decisionism; whereas in monarchical Spain where no revolution had taken place, the Inquisition had to respond to norms, written laws, and civil power. This could explain at least two things: on the one hand, why De Maistre’s political philosophy was discarded and regarded with suspicious by Hispanic royalists and Carlists; and secondly, why De Maistre understood political economy in his text on commerce and state regulation regarding grain trade in Geneva [8]. Here one can see how the structure of politonomy aims at regulating the constant friction of norm and the exception in a specific institutional arrangements. To return to our starting point: the reactive attitude towards subjective politics was also modern insofar as it breaks radically with the classical view of politics that understood itself as oriented towards the good, the virtuous, and equity balancing (epikeia). If modern politics opens as an abyssal fracture, then politonomy is always the management of a catastrophic, fallen, and demonic dimension of politics. Thoroughly consistent with the dialectic of the modern epoch and its oppositorum, politics becomes destiny precisely because religious sacrifice has ceased to guarantee social order in the temporal kingdom. Politonomy emergences as the formal science of the second-best; that is, an effective way, by all means necessary, of administrating aversion given that “sovereignty is always taken and never given” [9].
.
.
Notes
1. Isaiah Berlin. “Joseph De Maistre and the Origins of Fascism”, in The Crooked Timber of Humanity (Princeton U Press, 1990), 91.
2. Francis Oakley. The Conciliarist Tradition Constitutionalism in the Catholic Church (Oxford U Press, 2003). 201.
3. Joseph De Maistre. “Essay on the Generative Principle of Political Constitutions and Other Human Institutions”, in Major Works, Vol.1 (Imperium Press, 2021). 4.
4. Ibid., 42-43.
5. Joseph De Maistre. On the Spanish Inquisition (Imperium Press, 2022). 6
6. Ibid., 18.
7. Ibid., 49.
8. Joseph de Maistre. “Report on the commerce of grain between Carauge and Geneva”, in The More Moderate Side of Joseph de Maistre (McGill Queen U Press, 2005), 230.
9. Joseph de Maistre. St. Petersburg Dialogues (McGill Queen U Press, 1993), 263.
In a forthcoming dossier on “common good constitutionalism” at the journal of the Universidad del Salvador (Buenos Aires), edited by the good offices of Guillermo Jensen, there is a featuring essay, “El concepto de marco normative en la obra de Adrian Vermeule”, by Pedro A. Caminos that makes an original attempt to read Vermeule’s legal theory from strong jurisprudential position, and it does so by suggesting that the ‘marginalization’ of the judiciary and the transformation of the administrative state (the Chevron paradigm) implies a normative framework, analogous to Martin Loughlin’s superlegality or Fernando Atria’s common norms (I would be tempted to also add to this list Scott Shapiro’s conception of law as planning). Although I agree with the normative framework in both scope and design of the constitutional theory, there are two underlying elements that I would slightly challenge for further discussion. The first element concerns the notion of tyranny, and the second one to the allocation of “politics” in administrative framework
First, towards the end of the essay, Caminos cites Robert Alexy’s rendition of the Radbruch formula in which no positive law can be tyrannical (or unjust) or it ceases to be legitimate law from an external perspective. For Alexy the conditions of intelligibility must answer not only to internal rules of recognition as positivism would have it, but, more fundamentally, to the challenge of the participant perspective, which is external to the rule of recognition. The problem with the Alexian antipositivist stance in Vermeule’s normative framework is that it would seem to come to a halt if the institutional design is constructed as “second best” safeguards for administrative decision-making. Indeed, the second-best optimizing rule is the same thesis defended in The Exeuctive Unbound (2010), which suggested that ultimate concerns for tyranny (trypanophobia) could ultimately serve the master that it seeks to prevent. To some extent the administrative state – if read from the internal point of view of executive power – is best understood as the optimizing and taming of presidential power through the normative framework. Now, it is true that in “common good constitutionalism” the emphasis against tyranny is counterposed by an objective morality proper to the ragion di stato, which explains why the “second best” optimizing rule is silently replaced by the determinatio that defines the construction zone of the praetorian decision making. The nuances here are important: whereas second-best optimizing rule has no moral purposiveness; the determinatio is by nature a moral discriminatory principle (ius). Whereas the Bartolist jurisprudence aims to tame the privately infused tyrannical forces for good government; the unbounded executive does not fear tyranny as long as it controls the immanent force of administration [1].
Secondly, Caminos derives from the normative framework the construction of a common legal space in which disagreements could flourish. And Caminos sees this as consistent with Schmitt’s concept of the political as the distinction between friend and enemy. But so far as the notion of enmity in The Concept of the Political moves through different determinations, it is an open question as to which determination are allocated or relevant to the normative framework. However, if what defines the “reasonable arbitrariness” of administrative adjudication is predominantly informed by cost & benefit analysis, it would seem that it is value rather than the political distinction the distinctive feature of its logic. This makes sense given the jurisdictional supremacy of the administrative state, which subsumed the legislation into the normative framework. As Carl Schmitt predicted it in his Tyranny of Values, in this context function of the legislator becomes that of a tailor of suturing and producing new mediations for value stratification [2]. But could one conceive the concept of the political within the values of administrative rationality? At the end of his essay, Caminos himself seems to think otherwise, and suggests that normative framework allows for a new conception of political friendship. Of course, in the regime of value administration friendship is defined first and foremost by those are “valued” or “devalued”. Ultimately, this would be strange conception of “friendship”, since, as De Maistre showed, the friend is always outside the margin of utility, and thus constituted outside value [3]. Hence the difficulty for an alleged new politics of friendship: either the concrete friendship is diluted into a “fellow man” (blurring the specificity of friendship) or embracing as friends only those that share common values that can be imposed to non-friends, but who are not recognized as formal “enemies”. This second variant is most definitely the common good ideal type. In either case, friendship and politics become two poles in the procedural organization of values: a hellish reality notwithstanding appearing as a ‘friendly’ paradise of values.
.
.
Notes
1. Adrian Vermeule. Common Good Constitutionalism (Polity, 2022), 27-28.
2.Carl Schmitt. La tiranía de los valores (Hydra Editorial, 2012), 147.
3. Joseph De Maistre writes: “¿Qué es un amigo? Lo más inútil del mundo para la fortuna. Para empezar, nunca se tiene más de uno y siempre es el mismo; lo mismo valdría para un matrimonio. No hay nada que sea verdaderamente más útil que los conocidos, porque se pueden tener muchos y, cuantos más se tengan, más se multiplican las posibilidades en cuanto a su utilidad.”, in El mayor enemigo de Europa y otros textos escogidos (El Paseo, 2020), 212.
Probablemente debido a su crítica al positivismo de su época (la “norma básica” kelseniana), y a la insistencia sobre la decisión soberana como respuesta a la crisis, se suele pensar que el concepto del derecho de Carl Schmitt se reduce a un decisionismo puro u “ocasionalista”; o bien, en el peor de los casos, a un anti-positivismo oportunista. Ni una cosa ni la otra. Y más allá de las presunciones de interés político en esta percepción, si atendemos a la primera etapa expresamente jurisprudencial pura de Schmitt esta percepción colapsa en su intento por explicar el concepto de derecho elaborado. En efecto, lo que me gustaría anotar aquí es que antes de las incepciones relativas al excepcionalismo, al ‘concepto de lo político”, al énfasis en la forma teológica, a las teorías secularizadas de las mediaciones, o al énfasis en el ‘guardián de la constitución’, el concepto de derecho de Schmitt es bastante consistente con el teorema hartiano del derecho basado en un principio interno de rule of recognition por parte de los oficiales y jueces de un sistema normativo ordenado mediante reglas secundarias y mediadas con los hechos sociales. Desde luego, en el centro del pensamiento schmittiano gravita el ideal de un asentamiento de un nomoi capaz de distinguir la amenaza de todo orden concreto de legalidad, aunque tal vez decirlo así es demasiado genérico y metajurídico.
Para intentar dotar de sustancia a la postura jurisprudencial de Schmitt – si es que le tomamos la palabra sobre cómo quería ser comprendido – debemos, entonces, tematizar lo que podríamos llamar una matriz articulada por ‘puntos fijos’ en su concepción del derecho. Y aunque la noción de “puntos fijos” teorizada por Solum se entiende como la estabilidad temporal del contenido de una provisión en el momento de ratificación, aquí me gustaría tomar los puntos fijos como perímetro de legibilidad del concepto del derecho en tres loci: (i) una práctica concreta en un sistema constitucional, (ii) una forma de decisión impersonal cuyas directrices se orientan a la práctica habitual de la adjudicación, y (iii) una apuesta interna por la preservación de una institucionalidad concreta contra las posibles amenazas de potestas indirectas externas o valorizaciones por parte del juez [1]. Estos puntos fijos, por su parte, no intentan definir el “constitucionalismo” de Schmitt, sino la construcción de su concepto de derecho que en realidad (como luego vio Strauss en el registro ideológico de lo político) no niega la impronta del positivismo, sino que la fortifica.
El primer punto fijo puede inscribirse en la noción del derecho como práctica, algo relativamente sencillo que Schmitt contrapone en su temprano Ley y juicio (1912) a la cuestión del método en una formulación: el método de la práctica es superior a la práctica del método (claramente anti-bartoliana). Esta dimensión práctica le suministra al concepto del derecho una plasticidad que no puede sustraerse del normativismo abstracto y mecánico, y que abre espacio para atender al problema de la indeterminación del derecho. En efecto, como han visto Vinx & Zeitlin, los primeros trabajos de Schmitt como jurista estaban atravesados por cómo atender el dilema de la indeterminación del estatuto (lex), que llevó a Schmitt a favorecer la “praxis jurídica” a nivel de adjudicación de un sistema contra la tentación de transformar el juez en un justiciero, legislador, o interpretador de las lagunas de una provisión legal [2]. De hecho, Schmitt veía el problema de la interpretación como un arma política tu quoque: “El dominio de los métodos de interpretación es un poder real, que genera concepciones jurídicas que son tan efectivas como los mismos contenidos de las leyes formales. Su dominio sobre la construcción de las leyes llega a su punto culminante, cuando, por ejemplo, se afirma algo que la interoperación determina como contenido de la ley y que, sin embargo, no está recogido en la misma ley…” [3]. A diferencia de lo que luego reclamaría la hegemonía de la interpretación como contenido verídico de la adjudicación, la noción de respuesta correcta para Schmitt se encuentra en el modo en que los jueces decidan siguiendo la práctica interna a la comunidad jurídica en lugar de una decisión que asume un contenido especifico para la decisión (como lo es, por ejemplo, en la teoría del “derecho es lo que aprueban los jueces” de D’Ors). La noción de “práctica jurídica” es un punto fijo que limita la adjudicación y a su vez separa la esfera jurídica de otras esferas (la política, la valorativa, o la opinión pública del poder constituyente).
El segundo punto fijo es una elaboración conceptual de la zona limitada de la práctica jurídica, y que le sirve a Schmitt para definir positivamente la función del juez: “Una decisión jurídica es correcta si se puede esperar que otro juez hubiera decidido del mismo modo. Por otro juez se entiende aquí el tipo empírico de jurista moderno” [4]. La dimensión impersonal no solo radical en el vaciamiento del valor, sino en subsumir el contenido verídico de la decisión (“la respuesta correcta”) al modo de adjudicación de la práctica del derecho. Esta dimensión modal es importante en la medida en que ya no se trata de una “respuesta correcta” en términos del contenido siempre asumido por algún valor (así entendemos hoy la impronta de la interpretación), sino que este modo crea homogeneidad, previsibilidad, y transparencia en la práctica jurídica. A su vez, como dice unas páginas más tarde en Ley y juicio, para Schmitt es importante que los fallos se limiten a comunicar a una esfera acotada de jueces y funcionarios, muy parecido a lo que H.L.A Hart denominó la rule of recognition cuya función unifica las reglas de primer orden con los mandatos de segundo orden para la organización de la fuente legislativa o arraigadas en las prácticas históricas [5]. Del mismo modo, según Schmitt pareciera acercarse a la concepto de Hart aunque en un registro bastante disímil: “….la capacidad del juez para calcular lo que se considera correcto en la praxis judicial utilizando al eficacia de las normas y teniendo en cuanta, además, unas concretas leyes positivas, la influencia de ciertas normas metapositivistas, y los precedentes” [6]. Ahora podemos ver con mayor claridad que la idea de praxis no es un mero mecanicismo, sino que consigue validez legal para así tener “criterio especifico para declarar su corrección” [7]. De ahí que la sentencia del juez es correcta no por el contenido a la hora de interpretación o legislar sobre el caso difícil, sino en el momento en el que se encuentra con un grado modal consistente con el principio de validez legal. Desde luego, el principio de validez legal no logra decir nada a un momento de crisis, pero esta dimensión externa o decisionista en función de un principio discriminatorio de lo político es simplemente eso: una dimensión externa que queda ajena al concepto interno del derecho unificado por la regla de reconocimiento.
El tercer punto fijo lo encontramos en la instancia en la que Schmitt se aleja de Hart para acercarse al teorema del ordenamiento jurídico de Santi Romano, puesto que lo fundamental no es responder a la heteronomía entre moral y derecho para satisfacer la racionalidad de los hechos sociales, sino que ahora el énfasis recae en la combinación decisionismo, normativismo, y formalismo de cara a la idea de preservación de un orden concreto [8]. Por eso en Sobre los tres modos de pensar la ciencia jurídica (1934), Schmitt identifica la institución y la administración con la directiva (y de algún modo, aunque sin decirlo, con el poder delegado) de todo sistema jurídico [9]. Ahora una visión concreta tiende a la definición holística de la “institución” que, sin ignorar la decisión, estabiliza un nuevo punto fijo. En efecto, como queda claro en el ensayo del 34, la decisión no se reduce a la máxima de la teología política (‘soberano es quien decide el estado de excepción’), sino que primero que todo se entiende como la práctica jurídica positiva de instaurar nuevos puntos fijos en el ordenamiento. Incluso, Schmitt sugiere que en la medida en que el decisionismo establece un loci fijo, entonces puede renovar el principio trascendental propio de la autoridad del positivismo moderno (autoritas non veritas facit legem): “Pero solo desde el decisionismo puede el positivismo fijar, en un determinado momento y lugar, la cuestión del último fundamento de la norma vigente…como otro orden concreto, o, sobre todo, sin cuestionar el derecho de tal poder” [10].
El concepto de derecho de Schmitt – y que recorre su obra desde los primeros libros de ciencia jurídica hasta los últimos ensayos sobre la revolución legal mundial y la teoría de los valores – entiende que es solo mediante puntos fijos que el derecho logra su estabilidad, duración habitual (customary / precedent), y capacidad autoritativa. Sin la dimensión decisionista el normativismo de “la sociedad civil”, no estaría en condiciones de responder adecuadamente al ascenso de las potestas indirectas que expresamente se sublevaban contra la forma de estado y sus mediaciones internas directivas. La preservación de un orden concreto requería de un decisionismo capaz de estabilizar los puntos fijos sin el cual la lógica interna del derecho es ciega y mortal, al punto de hacer de la separación entre moral e ideología una dialéctica destabilizadora [11]. Y es aquí donde vemos una máxima distancia con respecto a Hart en torno al tópico de la separabilidad. Allí donde hay una neutralidad absoluta con la moral, Schmitt recurre al concepto de lo político. Pero en lo que concierna al concepto del derecho, la insistencia en los puntos fijos esclarece la investidura de Schmitt como jurista cuyo decisionismo, por naturaleza unfixed ya que responde la crisis, intenta garantizar la perdurabilidad del orden concreto.
.
.
Notas
1. Lawrence Solum. “The Fixation Thesis: The Role of Historical Fact in Original Meaning”, Notre Dame Law Review, Vol.91, 2015. 21
2. Carl Schmitt. Early Legal-Theoretical Writings (Cambridge University Press, 2022). Eds. Lars Vinx & Samuel G. Zeitlin. 3-7.
3. Carl Schmitt. Ley y juicio, en Posiciones ante el derecho (Tecnos, 2018). 124.
3. Carl Schmitt. Ley y juicio, en Posiciones ante el derecho (Tecnos, 2018). 4-6.
5. H.L.A. Hart. The Concept of Law (Oxford U Press, 1991). 92-93.
6. Carl Schmitt. Ley y juicio, en Posiciones ante el derecho (Tecnos, 2018).
7. Ibíd., 135
8. Carl Schmitt. Sobre los tres modos de pensar la ciencia jurídica, en Posiciones ante el derecho (Tecnos, 2018). 301.
En su tardía entrevista con Fulco Lanchaster, Carl Schmitt confiesa que todo su pensamiento puede situarse bajo las palabras del tercer verso de la Odisea de Homero: “pollōn d’anthrôpōn iden astea kai nomon egnō” [1]. Para Schmitt se trata de la escena de un doble inicio: es el comienzo de la gran obra del poeta clásico de Grecia, pero es también una instancia originaria del derecho; esto es, antes de su conversión en “norma” positiva. Aquí Schmitt sigue al pie de la letra una observación de su amigo romanista Álvaro D’Ors, quien en el ensayo “Silent Leges Inter Arma”, había sugerido que fue con Cicerón cuando el nomos griego termina subsumido en el lex latino [2]. El contexto de esta aparición en el transcurso de la entrevista es importante: es la batalla de Schmitt contra la insuficiencia, aunque no la liquidación, del positivismo moderno en el contexto penalista. Aunque a comienzos de los 80s, esto también quiere decir que Schmitt está pensando tras el colapso de la forma estatal que acelerara la “revolución legal mundial” y sus armas de interpretación jurídica.
Por su lado, Christian Meier reporta que Schmitt durante los últimos años de su vida anotaba “kai nomon egnō” en servilletas y papeles de su estudio, a pesar de que no hay referencia del verso en el Glossarium (la única mención siendo a la horkia en una entrada de julio de 1949) [3]. El teorema homérico atestigua no tanto un “giro espacial” en el pensamiento de Schmitt, ni mucho menos un retorno a Grecia; se trata, más bien, del problema de la fuente de la autoridad que había atravesado el saeculum de la filosofía de la historia cristiana, aunque consistente con la convicción jurídica de Schmitt sobre el ordenamiento como realización del derecho ya defendido en Estatuto y Juicio (1912).
La apelación al “kai nomon egnō” también hace una aparición programática al comienzo del ensayo sobre la apropiación, producción, y apacentamiento donde el nomos se define como repartición y ocupación de un espacio concreto de la vida en la tierra [4]. Para Schmitt la insuficiencia del normativismo fue su incapacidad de establecer una relación de ordenamiento concreto con la esfera de la socialización, de modo que allí donde hay una condición mínima de lo social hay un sentido de orden, y, por lo tanto, de amenazas a ese orden. Y por extensión, de la posibilidad de enemigo, quien también pisa la tierra, a quien solo despojándolo de la tierra se vuelve un “enemigo absoluto”. Para Schmitt esta es la amenaza de la tecnificación de los valores de la dominación moderna. En cualquier caso, la atención reiterada sobre el ‘ordenamiento concreto’ (consistente con la jurisprudencia de Romano, aunque con mayores sondeos metafísicos) modifica el supuesto “realismo” de Schmitt. Puesto que ya por “realismo” no entendemos una absolutización moral o política de la esfera del derecho – esto es lo que teme Schmitt y busca neutralizar – sino una “mirada” atenta a la preservación del ordenamiento concreto.
Esta dimensión telúrica es lo que suministra el nomoi homérico, un teorema que también contiene, como ha visto Aida Miguez, la raíz de “ver” y “conocer” para ganar tiempo de nuestra propia psyche [5]. Contra una lectura “trágica” de la distancia griega – al fin y al cabo, Schmitt se opone a la tragicidad de Hölderlin – la comprensión del teorema homérico supone, de principio a fin, una defensa de la perseverancia del derecho como dimensión concreta de la realidad, históricamente situada y espacialmente realizada, que puede impedir la dominación anómica carente de una exterioridad de la mediación política.
El teorema homérico vuelve a validar la convicción (metafísica) de la filosofía del derecho de Schmitt sobre la polaridad entre conflicto y tierra: allí donde se pisa mundo hay conflicto. Y el conflicto exige un concepto del derecho que no puede ser subsumido al “Norm” o “lex”, sino que debe estar arraigado en un orden capaz de tramitar una fuente de autoridad. En este sentido, no hay que ver en la apropiación filológica de Homero (el paso del noos al nomos) un “conceptual overreach”, sino más bien como la apuesta de un axioma que puede responder a la crisis del eón cristiano y su mediación formal, como ya lo había expuesto Schmitt en “Tres posibilidades para una visión cristiana de la historia” citando la sospecha ante la retención paulina del poeta católico Konrad Weiß.
El nomos valida la determinación del derecho, y en este punto Schmitt pareciera dejar atrás el paradigma temporal-histórico de la filosofía de la historia cristiana que se mostraría incapaz impotente de llevar a cabo la neutralización del misterio de la inequidad contra el orden. ¿Se confirma el paganismo de Schmitt en la vuelta al teorema espacial, como piensa Palaver? Es una pregunta que probablemente no puede resolverse sin primero antender a la controversia sobre la separación entre la autonomía del derecho y la existencia pública (hostis) en el mundo. Pero si tomamos en serio el teorema homérico, entonces el “cristianismo” de Schmitt más que sustancia (doctrina) o principios (ius romano), es esencialmente la disponibilidad de una comprensión sobre la crisis del ordenamiento, y en cada “krisis” (que es también juicio) retener la capacidad de responder “en el dominio telúrico del sentido, por penuria e impotencia, esperanza y honor de nuestra existencia” [6]. Aquí podemos marcar el semblante originario de su concepto del derecho.
.
.
Notas
1. Carl Schmitt. “Un jurista frente a sí mismo: entrevista de Fulco Lanchester a Carl Schmitt”, Carl-Schmitt-Studien, 1, 2017, 214.
2. Álvaro D’Ors. “Silent Leges Inter Arma”, en De la Guerra y de la Paz (Ediciones Rialp, 1954), 29-30.
3. Christian Meier. “Zu Carl Schmitts Begriffsbildung,” en Complexio Oppositorum über Carl Schmitt: Vorträge und Diskussionsbeiträge (Berlin: Duncker & Humblot, 1988). 540.
4. Carl Schmitt. “Apropiación, partición, y apacentamiento”, Veintiuno, N.34, 1997, 55.
5. Aida Míguez Barciela. La visión de la Odisea (La Oficina Ediciones, 2014). 13.
6. Carl Schmitt. “Tres posibilidades para una visión cristiana de la historia”, Arbor, N.62, 1951, 241.
*imagen: ejemplar anotado de Epimeteo Cristiano (1933) de Konrad Weiß de la biblioteca de Carl Schmitt.
Infrapolitical Reflections 