Even if it is appalling to witness the brute amount of executive force in the current American political system, it is nonetheless “business as usual” if understood within the internal development of its own legal order. In other words, what is emerging is not a drastic rupture or abdication due to external pressure against “legal liberalism”, broadly understood as a package of normative rights to solve social conflicts in a political community, but rather the consequential effect of the decline of the legitimating force of positive law, the modern legislative state, and the principles such as the right to due process – which includes but it is not limited to a public hearing, a defense, the right to a defense, cross-examination of witnesses, or an impartial jury. The slow erosion of constitutional due process has not only resulted in an unprecedented upsurge of civil cases resulting in “guilty pleas” devoid of legal process (about 95% of cases according to Supreme Court Judge Neil Gorsuch), but also in the collapse of remedies from government even if a federal court decides against the state. As Aziz Huq shows in The Collapse of Constitutional Remedies (2021), the demise of legal remedies means that the federal courts at large can only “interpret the constitution” but remains silent and inoperative in terms of the practical solutions to amend injuries, seizures, or plain violence enacted.
Any attentive student of the history of law does not second guess that many centuries before the ratification of the Constitution of 1789, the principles of modern criminal procedure, such as due process, fair trial and reasonable doubt, were already sedimented to such an extent that the Medieval canonist Guillaume Durand in Speculum iudiciale (1291) claimed that the right to defend himself should not be denied even to the devil if he were summoned to the court. In this sense, the so-called “Due Process Clause” of the Fifth Amendment of the U.S. Constitution that claims that “No person shall be deprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law” is a latecomer to the internal development of Common Law’s theological secularization. And it should not go unnoticed that the clause explicits states “person”, instead of the narrow privilege to the “citizen” or the “legal resident”, which is why during the Founding Era even foreign pirates accused of illegal activities were still subjects of the Due Process clause under the international and domestic legal order. As crude as it may sound, in the current moment one could very well say that the “concept of piracy” had more footing in a juridical concrete order than in the current legal stasis operative in a post-positive scenario.
Even those constitutional scholars that in the wake of the “War on Terror” defended the Sedition Act of 1798 in order to defend a “process reduction” during an instance of political emergency, also warned of governmental overreach could very well upset political opposition and public support or loyalty (Vermuele & Posner, 2007, 235). Today we are in muddier waters (although fully “rational”) in which the punitive juridical order increasingly acts without a “process”, and the Federal Courts are incapable of offering clear cut remedies. This begs the question: what comes after the classical paradigm of due process inherited from the historical dispensation of Common Law? In other words, if the rule of law can now fully prescind, under ordinary times (there is no “emergency declaration”), of the right to due process and to the guarantee of remedies, what is the source of its legal authority?
This is an ambitious question that we cannot even attempt to answer here, but there is at least one possible working hypothesis: mainly, that post-positive rule of law adjudicates from the production of its own justification. It goes without saying that legal justification has always been an internal mechanism of legal authority; but only now is the force of justification taking over formal procedures, normative guarantees, and written and unenumerated rights. Justification makes its way as a rhetorical subsumption of any sphere of social reality. This is why, for the Federal Judge James Ho, “migration” can be understood as hostile forces if properly justified as an “invasion”. As a further task to be explored, one should bear in mind as a symptom that the most influential and enduring legal philosophy to have emerged within the crumbling edifice of modern legal positivism was precisely a concept of law defined by two guiding criteria: “fit and justification”. This means that law’s empire is no longer ordered through the “process” but through what becomes “justified”.
Over at the newspaper Perfil, the constitutional scholars Andrés Rosler and Guillermo Rosler have an excellent critical analysis of the omnibus emergency decree (“Decreto de Necesidad y Urgencia”) proposed by the newly minted Argentine President Javier Milei, which has the alberdinian ringtone in its title “Proyecto de Ley de Bases y Puntos de Partida para la Libertad de los Argentinos”. As members of his cabinet have described without vacillation, the aspiration of the legislative package has the high aspiration of enacting a true political revolution in the name of unmediated “civilization freedom” against the institutions and mediations of the state. Rosler & Jensen make a good case that Milei is far from being the ‘founding father’ of the instrumentalization of executive emergency; and in fact, at least since the the transition to democracy of the 1980s, Argentine executive power has increasingly become a normalized standard of broad executive decrees against the letter and spirit of Article 99 of the Argentinian Constitution. As a matter of habit and precedent, the exceptional character of the emergency decree over time has sort of become the supra-institutional norm of governance, thus blurring the state of emergency from the normal course of institutional mediations and consequential remedies. Paradoxically, Milei’s revolutionary force expresses more of a continuity with the collapse of the liberal modern state than a counter-revolutionary seeking a strong formal stabilization between the economic interests and state functions.
As an addenda to Rosler & Jensen’s illuminating piece, I wanted to register the symptomatic and perhaps unique paradox of the revolutionary executive command; mainly, that at the same time that it discharges an ambitious and total encompassing legislative omnibus bill for the emergency, its purpose differs from the classical conception of political decision that seeks to harmonize a strong state and a sound economy, as Carl Schmitt famously argued in the 1930s. Indeed, Schmitt argues in “Strong State and Sound Economy” (1932) that authority emerges from success and achievement between the spheres. Now this success presupposes not only the effective deployment of state institutions (“the constitutional legalization of new institutions”), but also that the autonomy of the political system guarantees the separation between the unity of the state and the plurality of civil society [1]. This means that even if Milei’s libertarian ideal of a strong financial state is taken at face-value, the betrayal on the autonomy of the political reveals the feeble dimension of his executive force; a self-defeating overreach that, similar to the ways of the Trump presidency (2016-2020) in the United States, ends up revealing the executive weakness with respect to the conservation of the autonomy of the political [2].
In other words, by disdainfully acting through an unbounded economic ideal to disarm the state, the executive also abdicates his energetic capacity to reorganize the chaos from partisan, ideological, and economic interests in the long run. In his proposal to the business class to consolidate the authority of the state, Schmitt advised about the necessity of a robust and independent neutral bureaucracy for legislative deference and operative allocation of reasonable decision-making regulations. This allows us to differentiate another structural disparity between the Argentine and the North-American forms of executive power: whereas the first tends to maximize the power of its office through a vicarious political charisma that leads to its own abdication; the hamiltonian energetic executive (Federalist 70) has drifted towards a process of abdication or self-evolving expansion and containment within the principal tracks of a gigantic administrative apparatus. The picture in question is, of course, one of paradox: this means that the presidentialist model of the Latin Americanist design, at least broadly speaking, differs substantially from the energetic American model, precisely because every attempt to enact hegemonic force ultimately shrinks the overall reach of the administrative execution. Hence when Rosler & Jensen write about the executive that “…nuestra Constitución no adoptó un modelo de ejecutivo fuerte de impronta alberdiana, con amplias facultades, sino que se inspiró en el modelo norteamericano en donde este tipo de decretos no existe”, they only partially give capture the full picture. In other words, the contrast is not merely at the level of executive forms of potestas (executive order without Congress authorization and “Decreto de Necesidad y Urgencia”), but also, and more importantly, at the very capacities for abdication and abnegation of delegated power within the two institutional arrangements where the administrative institutional building from within plays a fundamental role in the functioning of formal liberal political designs.
In fact, if we are to follow Rosler & Jensen’s astute intuition that Milei is nothing new under the sun, we could say that his executive habits, now cloaked under extreme commercial faith of the “invisible hand” of the market, follows to the letter the political tradition of the liberal criollo political class that the republican theorist Juan Bautita Alberdi criticized in the nineteenth century. As he wrote in his posthumous writings: “Argentine liberals are platonic lovers of a deity they have neither seen nor known. Being free for them does not consist in governing themselves, but in governing others. The position of the government: that’s all about freedom. The government’s monopoly: that’s all about liberalism…Liberalism, as we have to respect the discontent of other officials against us, is something that does not fit into the head of an Argentine liberal. The dissident is an enemy; the dissent of opinion is war, hostility, which authorizes repression and death” [3]. In this strong cautionary denunciation, Alberdi’s well-crafted portrait of Liberalism has at least two conjoined features that adds sharp historical relief: the deficiency of Liberalism was always the aspiration of unconstrained freedom (of interest) suppressing the autonomy of the political and dissent (the enemy), while increasing the frontiers of government over the space of civil society. In effect, the sovereign exception (broadly applies to Latin America) can be said to have been an exception to neutralize the very condition of exceptionality constitutive of sovereignty’s exclusionary political theology.
This will remind us, at least axiomatically, that Saint-Just’s maxim that a government ruled by hegemonic underpinning tends to produce only monsters and absolute enemies meets the truth of a historical pathology. In a wider panorama of Latin American political thought, the ideals of Liberalism have only fomented the administration of political stasis or civil war over the spiritual unity of constituent power in which the state and its institutions have been too fragile to overcome throughout its different renditions (the criollo oligarchic state, the national popular, the socialist welfare state, and the openly revolutionary socialist states) [4]. In contrast to the constitutional ‘royalism’ of the original North American republican organization of public powers and its abnegating executive office (a war of independence waged against the British Parliament), taking a look at contemporary presidential power allows us to derive the different compensatory strategies in confronting the collapse of the legitimacy of the modern legislative state [5]. The so-called “revolution of freedom” (with the consumer citizen at the center stage of the always unfinished and ongoing coercive consent required by the passive revolution) mandated by the executive against the institutional fabric is ultimately a renewed attempt at conserving the root and branch of the hegemonic logistics at the heart of the region’s post-independence apparent state and its rocky historical development.
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Notes
1. Carl Schmitt. “Strong State and Sound Economy: An Address to Business Leaders” (1932), appendix in Renato Cristi’s Carl Schmitt and Authoritarian Liberalism (University of Wales Press, 1998), 221.
3. Juan Bautista Alberdi. Escritos Póstumos: Del Gobierno en Sudamérica (1896), Vol.IV, 188.
4. The continuity of stasis at the foundation in the region is something that can be derived from Rafael Rojas’ historiographical contribution Los derechos del alma: ensayos sobre la querella liberal-conservadora en Hispanoamérica 1830-1870 (Taurus, 2014)
5. Eric Nelson. The Royalist Revolution: Monarchy and the American Founding (Harvard University Press, 2014).
The Supreme Court of Colorado has recently upheld the constitutional argument developed by two constitutional scholars, William Baude & Michael Paulsen, that disqualifies former President Trump from a presidential nomination under section 3 of the Fourteenth Amendment of the US Constitution. According to this legal argument by one of the nation’s renowned legal originalists, any former public official who has taken an “oath” to the Constitution and engages in a rebellion or insurrection is disqualified from returning to public office as expressed in the letter of the Reconstruction Amendment. What is more, section three is ‘self-executing’, which means that it applies through adjudication by the courts without having to pass by legislative majority from Congress. Regardless of the future outcome of the contentious case, what is remarkable is how the development of American democracy – centered on the republicanist innovation of electoral power and voting, if we are to believe Sanford Levinson’s hypothesis – bends towards an executive constitutionalism that sits way above the political representation mediated by constituent power (Congressional authority) [1].
And insofar as to the normative nuances of the case are concerned, the application of section 3 of the Fourteenth Amendment does not express a constitutional crisis as much as it reveals the system of the constitution‘s arcana of power: “the officer” and the ‘highest office’. In fact, as many legal scholars have already noted, the center of the applicability of section 3 will be waged on whether the Presidential office qualifies as an “officer of the United States” or not [2]. Implicitly it should not be noted that this is the constitutional standard through which the case already presents itself. In other words, what is at stake in section is not only the betrayal of an oath, democratic legitimation, constitutional public meaning, or a violation of separations of power; what is at issue is the enduring force of an office and the command of the officer in a concrete institutional reality.
And not just any office, but according to the opinion of the Colorado Supreme Court, it pertains to the “highest office” of the land, which is not lex scripta in Constitution but implicitly derived: “President Trump asks us to hold that Section 3 disqualifies every oath-breaking insurrectionist except the most powerful one and that it bars oath breakers from virtually every office, both state and federal, except the highest one in the land. Both results are inconsistent with the plain language and history of Section 3″ [3]. As in the allegorical ‘Commandant’ in Franz Kafka’s “In the Penal Colony”, the highest office follows the unwritten Executive office tradition in order to bar a former president (involved to some degree in an insurrection) for its own endurance: the being of command that must self-execute itself in order to be what it is, that is, the highest office [4]. The paradox, then, it is not just at the level of interpretative enterprises of a specific legal culture – in other words, what legal theory will allow judges to accept Trump as officer or non-officer of the executive branch, as Vermeule suggests – but rather, the fact that in order to preserve the veneer of democratic legitimation between the different conflicting public powers and its potential rise to “authoritarianism”, the highest office must rank at the center of the executive force of either general economy of deference and public legitimation [5]. This also speaks to the ‘royal’ tailoring of American republicanism (the monarchical force in the executive) in which the unbound dimension of the “highest office” also entails a constrained, impersonal, and thus anti-constituent dimension that shows its relief upsetting the modernist liberal forms of the separation of powers [6].
From this picture it follows that the so-called post-liberal and virtuous calls for a neoclassical regime change perhaps have failed to grasp that this regime has always been beneath their own noses: the ‘highest office’ dispenses the soulcraft that subsumes civil society to the functions of the administrative state bypassing practical spheres of separation. If the arguments and debates about section 3 matter, it is precisely because it reveals the esoteric arcana (the highest office) of American structure of government runs parallel to its exoteric liturgical arcana (voting rights) – and, precisely, it it comes to no surprise that executive immunity under section 3 comes into full tension with voting rights in an unprecedented theater of active operations in which both levels of the arcanni convergence and collapse. In a way, this validates Carl Schmitt’s assumption that decision over exception is constitutive of every legal system, and that every legal system (insofar as it does not want to crumble under the abstraction of a general norm) arms itself with a sovereign decision. The highest office in the American constitutional system is the institution for the self-executing force of sovereign immunity.
In this legal landscape, a recently published book, Of Rule and Office: Plato’s Ideas of the Political (2023), by classicist Melissa Lane aptly analyzes the binding notion of political rule with the public office in Plato’s Republic. In another epoch, the publication of such book would have been taken as a theoretical touchstone for either side of the constitutional crisis, since Lane’s intricate argument illuminates the original tension between political rule and office in a democratic polis; a highpoint of intensity that fractures office-holding (anarchos) as in the account of the “democratic man” in the parabola of the young lotus-eater goes: “intolerance good breeding, anarchy freedom, extravagance magnificence, and shamelessness courage” [7]. Thus, as Lane observes, the attitude of the anarchos is not merely achieving the erasure of power or government, but more specifically the destruction of the proper constitution of the office. It is also telling that the energy of the anarchos is not against the state or a “leader” (archontes), but oriented towards the civil magistrates and bureaucratic power; or, to put it in the language of modern American public law, against the administrative state. At the end of the day, the elemental unit of administrative law is the autonomy of the command of an agency / office of regulatory power dispensed from the Executive branch. And is not in the modern opposition of movement – institution the very friction between office and anarchos? If politics is reduced to this polarity, then there is no longer any paradoteon, a complex term that Plato in his late work associated with restraint and prudence when regulating music for the fulfillment of the kallipolis through the generations [8]. The highest office constitutes, in this way, an ur-officium, the arcanathat binds the political system when all there is a system of commands.
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Notes
1. Sanford Levinson. An Argument Open to All: Reading The Federalist in the 21st Century (Yale University Press, 2015).
Back in the fall of 2020, we discussed a book entitled Intifada: una topología de la imaginación popular (2020), written by Rodrigo Karmy, which considered the implications between the forms of contemporary revolts for the common imagination. It has been said with good reasons that the health-administrative controls deployed during the COVID-19 brought to a halt the high tides of revolts against the experiential discontent in the social fabric. The wearing out and domestication of experience has proved, at least for now, its stealth efficacy and unilateral success. However, what some of us did not see at the time was that this energy over protracted containment was also being waged at the very substance of language. This has now come forth in the wake of recent events at university campuses where administrative authorities, opinion writers, and legal analysts have suggested that a particular word, “intifada”, should be proscribed and effaced from campus life. One should not waste time considering the etymology, semantic reach, and political deployment of this term – for this there is already Karmy’s elegant and dense articulation of the term.
What has completely gone unnoticed in the current chatter about “intifada” is the fact that the full realization of a “rhetorical society” entails, necessarily, an ongoing preventive civil war over what is perceived as “sayable”. This means that containment does not only reach to the moment the realization of action (and its reason or justification of an act); but rather that it fully extends about what might be said potentially. The various calls – on the left and right, from the legal analysts to the pundits and some of the academic administrations – against “intifada” is not merely substantive (or at least it does not stop at this specific threshold); it is a preventive reaction against the very possibility of the name and naming. The act of naming is intimately related to the exterior events in the world; therefore, the proscription of naming is one more step in the domestication process in which the human specie is tore not only from establishing a contact with the world, but also incapable of accessing it through the specific density of naming.
The paradoxical situation of this interregnum is that, on one hand, the collapse of modern political authority that founds the Liberal State (non veritas facit legem) as an overcoming of language and truths, has led straight into the rhetoric inflation where naming is sacrificed and language codified into a second order normativity that imposes arbitrary obligations on what is licit and illicit. This is why the First Amendment of the United States Constitution – and total constitutionalism writ large – becomes the construction zone that allows the contingent justification of “time, place, and manner” under the civil right of “freedom of speech”, which turns naming into an ominous and terrible shadow; an unwarranted apostrophe. The almost anecdotal proscription over “intifada” reveals the heteronomic dominion over interiority; that is, over the possibility of saying.
I can recall how Quentin Skinner told some of us at Princeton years ago that a fundamental characteristic of unfreedom, broadly considered, begins when you think twice about whether it is convenient or prudent to say what you think. Of course, I do not think he favored a position of imprudence and generalized cacophony. I take it that he meant that the end of liberty begins when the possibility of naming disappears: “Between the motion and the act falls the shadow”. Fixation and transparency is the evolving grammar of the day. Can language subsist in such an impoverished minimum overseen by the general governmental logistics? As a preamble, one can say that in the current moment any conception of liberty begins with the opaque exercise of naming.
The crisis of the liberal legislative state is almost as old as the very project of the modern liberal state itself. And if we are to believe Carl Schmitt, the rise of the supreme values of the French revolution and ‘human rights’ (with its corollary of universal recognition within its normative system) also meant walking the fine line from the political theology of generative reform to the nihilism of ius revolutionis commanded by new discharges of individual will, political and technical movements, and immanent forces bringing the collapse of the separation between state and civil society. We are still living under its protracted shadow, albeit with a different intensity and intent. In his new book Los derechos en broma: la moralización de la política en las democracias liberales (Deusto, 2023), Pablo De Lora co-shares this point of departure, while daring to suggest a new sequence after the collapse of modern political form and legal order: we are currently living under a particular epochal transformation that is anti-legalist (sic) in nature – precisely because of its surplus of legal motorization – that erects a “nursery state” for the totality of the political community’s reasons and justification for action (De Lora 23).
Although De Lora case studies shown are almost entirely derived from the Spanish and Latin American contemporary social contexts, I do think that his sharp diagnosis could be extended to the epoch itself without blurring the important nuances. This is an epoch of a reigning “emphatic constitutionalism” (Laporta) or the total Constitution (Loughlin), at the same time that it no longer takes too much effort to imagine a political community devoid of a legislative body, as one eminent constitutional scholar has said repeatedly [1]. We are already here. In other words, whether by excess or deficit, the overall purpose of moral driven legislation announces the internal transformation of modern politics as we know it, extending itself to a civilizational regression from the ideals and norms of the Enlightenment rooted in the fiction of the citizen, the binding of the social contract, and the invention of the principle of sovereign authority.
De Lora does not quite says it in this way, but I think I am not diverting too much of his cartography when extracting some of the central consequences of these internal moral substitutions that are palpable everywhere across the West: ecological legislation that increases social conductivity and expansion of natural destruction; ‘feminist’ anti-sexual aggression that leads to lowering of sentences for convicted sexual predators; the inflationary instrumental use of “Human Rights” for persons and things, but only defined narrowly by those that, under the thick haze of institutional hegemony, can deprive their political adversaries and enemies of the most basic legal guarantees of due process transforming them into non-persons. These ‘moral substitutions’ is part of the “ironic” and “futile” consequence of the sacralization of morality whose end is the management of the “social model” at all costs. According to Pablo De Lora, within the limits of confronting a social dilemma such as disability, the specificity of the “case” is turned on its head; what matters is the overall structural design of the social order and its infinite adaptive changes (De Lora 71-72).
This mutation generates all sorts of unintended consequences when the rhetoric of “social benefit” takes the lead. As De Lora writes: “No hay apoyo anticipado a la discapacidad mental sin reconocimiento de que el discapacitado mental no puede ejercer su autonomía en el futuro. Dicho de otro modo, la institución de las voluntades anticipada de la lógica desideratum de modelo “médico” de la discapacidad mental que se rehuye en beneficio del modelo social” (De Lora 85). And in spite of normative incoherence within an institutional system, the deflection to the “social model” requires ever-expanding commands, rules, principles, and hyper-amendments to guide the adverse proliferation of reasons for action within the social state (in the United States this is soften by the police powers of inter-agency statutes of the administrative state through cost&benefit balancing of discretionary principles under the supervision of the executive branch). This transformation entails the collapse of the internal mediation between the validity of norms and its foundation in social facts as in the classical construction. Thus, the expansion of value-driven legislation that also requires of specific adjudicative constitutional theories, such as legal interpretation and the theory of balancing of principles advocated by Robert Alexy, the sponsors of social neo-constitutionalism, but also the embedded dialogic ideological positions of constitutional scholars such as Roberto Gargarella (or in the United States context, the work of Mark Tushnet and the so-called anti-originalist ‘living constitutionalists’).
All things considered, the fundamental problem for De Lora is that this specific transformation enacts what he calls a “Estado parvulario” or ‘nursery state’ that he defines as: “El que denominado “Estado parvulario” da pábulo a que el poder público, en sus diversos instancias y encarnaciones, escamotee las realidades y consecuencias que conllevan algunas discapacidad per oa que lo haga de manera internamente inconsistente: tratando a los menores como adultos, pero sólo simbólicamente, y, en cambio, de manera efectiva, a todos los ciudada como menores, congénitamente desvalidos, incapaces de encarar la realidad” (De Lora 87). In the framework of the nursery state within its specific moral legislative apparatus, children become adults and the mature civil society regresses to an infantile stage. And like in a nursery setting, the democratic virtues pave the way for new dramatic effects where the function of rhetorical annunciation – so central for the any credentials of moral hegemony – forecloses the void between morality and politics in the wake of the unification that the social model requires to begin with (De Lora 89).
This slippery slope can only lead straight to a sacralization of the political system that runs co-extensively with the infinite expansion of social rights; which, in turn, leads to an ever increasing conflict over the assumptions regarding its social facts (De Lora 151). In this narrow form, De Lora is audacious when citing Martin Loughlin’s recent indictment from his Against Constitutionalism (2022): “En la era de la Constitución total, el gobierno bajo el imperio de la ley ya no significa el gobierno sujeto a reglas formales independientemente pulgadas. Significa gobierno de acuerdo con principios abstractos de legalidad que adquieren significado sólo cuando son insuflados con valores…” (De Lora 188). And we know perhaps too well that values cannot be reasoned, but only weighted; values are commanded and taxed on the permanent devalorization of other values. This is why the rise of the value fabric of constitutionalism coincides with the ‘weighting’ proportionality of principles of law’s ideal social efficacy, to paraphrase Robert Alexy’s influential position as claim for “anti positivist legal justice” [2]. The nursery social state cannot be corrected merely from the position of the legislator; it can also be tracked as a triumph of moral jurisprudential theories of law that seek to overcome (and provide answers) to the overall crisis of institutional authority that characterized the so-called ordered liberty of the moderns.
Is there anything to be done beyond a description? It is quite clear that Pablo De Lora’s ambition is not so much the proposition of a new political or legal philosophy as much as the sketch of the current epochal predicament in its current practice. This is already enough to welcome a robust analytical discussion of our predicament in Los derechos en broma (2023). However, there is a cobweb of affinities in De Lora’s own position towards the end of the book that, even if not fully developed, must be registered as a mode of conclusion. First, there is an affinity with John Hart Ely’s deferential conception of judicial power that aims at overseeing the procedural mechanism for the democratic deliberation and legislation over a hot-button issues. In this vein, De Lora shares Akhil Amar’s position regarding the overturning of Roe in the Dobbs’ decision; a conception that fully embodies judicial deference to diverse legislative majorities [3]. Secondly, De Lora favors a judicial minimalism associated with the doctrinal theory sponsored by James Bradley Thayer over the practice of judicial review of the Court (De Lora 233). And last, but not least, De Lora sees transformative potential in John Rawls’ assertion in his late Political Liberalism (1993) that the use of public reason is a comprehensive doctrine to deal with our fundamental disagreements and contentions over shared political values (De Lora 241).
I am not sure how deep or for how long does De Lora wants to go with Rawls; however, it is important to remember – and specially given the treatment of the ‘social model’ in the morality presented in Los derechos en broma (2023) – that insofar as social paternalism is concerned, Rawls’ late liberal political philosophy at the heart of the crisis of the secular liberal state amounts to a political conception that, as Eric Nelson has brilliantly shown, abandons the commitment of individual non-cooperation or refusal to cooperate with unjust moral legislative burdens, and thus making everyone stuck in the same ship [4]. This ship is the management and balancing of the totalization of the values being trafficked in the Social as ‘egalitarian’, although they are fully endowed as a seterological scheme of “election” (and who is elected) balanced by secondary compensations.
On a larger canvas, if the current political structure is defined as a nursery state of social rights, then this means that appealing to ideal positions of justified reasons, “diaphanous” deliberation, and well crafted citizen arguments belong to the age of maturity of the Enlightenment, but not to the stage of social infantile disorder. And demanding political qualifications to the contemporary citizen today is not only naif, but at odds with what what institutional thinking requires. In other words, the concrete transformation of the post-liberal state is one of permanent optimization of conflict, which is why John Gray has lucidly defined the (contemporary) ‘new Leviathans’ are “engineers of the soul” with broad and sweeping capacities to govern over every inch of the social space [5]. In the wake of these institutional mutations, the call endorse a “moral critique” might be taken as a post-enlightened lullaby that among the blasting and striding cries of infants of the nursery will most likely just pass unheard.
The neutralization of an intense political movement tends to defy both institutional and implicit norms of the rule of law. The fact that former President Donald J. Trump has been charged with four different legal indictments – the hush money New York state case, the Mar-a-Lago Classified Documents case, the January 6th insurrection case, and the Giorgia election meddling case – have only boosted his cultish popularity among his followers who are now pushing for a second presidential term. On top of this, it is also important to note that none of the indictments truly bar Trump from reaching the executive office and engaging in a self-pardon. However, we have seen the emergence of a fifth possible venue to indict Trump elaborated in an important lengthy law review article co-written by jurists William Baude & Michael Stokes Paulsen that reclaims the sweeping and effective force of section three of the Fourteenth Amendment of the United States Constitution [1]. The letter of section 3 is straightforward, and it states that anyone that has previously taken an oath to defend the United States Constitution, and engages “in insurrection and rebellion” disqualifies him from future appointments in any public office, although Congress could remove said disability with a sufficient majority [2].
There are two central qualifying conditions in the section: having taken a prior oath to the Constitution, and engaging or avoiding insurrection and rebellion against the unity of the state, which assumes that the current political situation is one of either the threat of secession or civil war (this was Lincoln’s standard). The fact that this has been proposed by one of the foremost exponents of constitutional originalism should already indicate the juridical pressure that American lawyers are facing at the moment [3]. If there is room for disagreement about the “objectivity of the context”, the fact that the applicability of section 3, Am.14. presupposes the state of a full-fledged civil war that confirms the unprecedented controversy about the political context – regardless if considered an open civil war or an institutional political crisis – in which the enforcement of the constitutional provision will be executed[4].
The precondition for the effectivity of the sanction, however, hangs on something that has been taken for granted by most commentators: that is, the fact that the public official has taken an oath, becoming what Baude & Paulsen denominate an ‘oath-taking category of person’, which implies that the self-defense and the continuity of the constitution relies on the structure and form of the oath. Of course, we know from the great legal historian Paolo Prodi that one of the fundamental categories of political authority of the state was the absorption of the religious vow and the sacrament into the oath expressing the collective will and intra-institutional regulation of a normative system of the rule of law [5]. The oath achieves the unity of institutional authority, but this is only possible if there is a common collective faith in the constituted community of the oath-taking practice.
Under this consideration, it is almost redundant to note that the object of this collective and consensual faith (fides) is the oath as the nexus of public trust between the word and the instituted reasons for action. Oath and faith – and its immanent dialectic, since it also implies the faith in the oath – just like the polarity of religion and the rule of law, can only be sustained on stable conditions of a robust secularized equilibrium now broken. In fact, this is what paves the way for the indirect powers of civil war. This implies that the dependency on the oath is invalid without fides; and, mutatis mutandis, it is only once that fides is separated from the oath that its self-executing force becomes possible in the field of factional forces.
This is something that is definitely not a new problem, since one can read in “Federalist 18” how the implementation of oath during the Greek polis did not lessen the exacerbation of the fragmentation between the rise of different factions [6]. In the same vein, Carl Schmitt reminded how Hindenburg during the Weimar Republic felt comfortable taking an oath prima facie, only to find himself later hostage to the absolutization of internal political hostilities [7]. Given that the oath is predicated on the faith of a “promise of future behavior” (Baude & Paulsen dixit), an oathdischarged from the presupposition of a faith in the concrete institutional order, tends to reproduce an adverse relation between perjurers, legal sanction, and pardons. In this circularity any political system will no longer depend on the internal categories of legitimate rule and social representation, but rather on the parallel tripartite structure of oath-taking, compelled oath, and acceleration of instrumental exchange of burdens, misdemeanors or infractions.
This tripartite structure – oath, perjury, politization – orients the force of fides after the collapse of modern secularization and the rise of legal constitutionalism [8]. Indeed, the energy of desecularization can only be expressed with the efficacy of moral principles dependent on a political will that fluctuates on the coagulation of legislative majorities that will see their “truths”, “public reasons”, and “social sensibilities” as permanent marching orders (let us not lose sight that the Congress can override the force of proscription). This does not mean that there is no such thing as having taken on “oath to the Constitution”, which is at the center of the American political system. Nor can one ignore the fact that section 3 enacts a clear threshold against public office holding if engaged in the context of insurrection or rebellion. Furthermore, one should not confuse the expediency of the unit of the political with the external question pertaining to social facts or public opinion [9]. Rather the point is much simpler and stark: if a constitution is a normative system of rules and principles, its free-standing application can not respond on the basis of having faith in the future promise compelled by the force of the oath. This can only deepen the conditions for civil war that neo-constitutionalism facilitates through its flexible and discretionary principles (the primacy of ius over lex). In the shadow of the oath, the archaic jingle of the sacramental enunciation is heard one more time [10].
The oath should not be reduced to a candid constitutional interpretation or federal jurisdiction: it is eminently a political question about the form, scope, and urgency of the guardian of the constitution and its nocturnal council. It is perhaps pertinent to conclude by recalling Plutarch’s old maxim: “Children are to be deceived with toys, men with oath”, which today could very well apply to generic constitutionalism and political militants alike, two fierce contenders in shaping and distributing the the energies of the legal stasis [11]. And if wrongs committed are no longer done to the gods as in Tacitus’s sacramental maxim ( deorum iniurias dis curae), but first and foremost against the authority of a concrete order; this means that political differentiation emerges against the quiet harbinger of the sacralization of politics – an anodyne time in which men with oaths, quite often, also behave and act like children with toys.
2. US Constitution, Article XIV, sec.3: “No person shall be a Senator or Representative in Congress, or elector of President and Vice President, or hold any office, civil or military, under the United States, or under any State, who, having previously taken an oath, as a member of Congress, or as an officer of the United States, or as a member of any State legislature, or as an executive or judicial officer of any State, to support the Constitution of the United States, shall have engaged in insurrection or rebellion against the same, or given aid or comfort to the enemies thereof. But Congress may by a vote of two-thirds of each House, remove such disability”.
9. Martin Loughlin. Against Constitutionalism (Harvard University Press, 2022).
10. Émile Benveniste. “Ius and the Oath in Rome”, in Dictionary of Indo-European Concepts and Society (Hau Books, 2016), 401.11. Plutarch. Lives. Agesilaus and Pompey. Pelopidas and Marcellus. Volume V (Loeb, 1917), 12.
It has been said repeatedly – in the best hyperbolic spirit, no doubt – that Chile always stands, regardless of the angle from which we are looking, for what is to come in our epoch. The Chilean laboratory prefigures the coming mutations and solidifies the effective tendencies of public powers. The 2019-2023 political cycle is no different: it began with the experiential revolt at the heart of the metropolitan center, and it culminated with yet another constitutional scene seeking to replace the “constitución tramposa” now at the mercy of those that hold a deep admiration for the post-dictatorship subsidiary state. The newly elected advisors and experts will place the final cap to the momentum of institutional transformation, which welcomes back the official garments of public legality, official languages, and grammars of public security. And even if it is true, as Rodrigo Karmy has argued, that the most recent electoral results confirm the exhaustion of the Chilean post-dictatorship regime, the question posed to us is what capacity can constitutionalism and the constituent scene contribute for any possible transformation. [1]. In other words, can a breakthrough be produced from within the conditions of constitutionalism? As Martin Loughlin has recently demonstrated, our historical epoch is one marked by the irreversible triumph of constitutionalism; a design that differs from the modern constitutional state of representation and legislative legitimacy, envisioning an encompassing “dynamic order of an evolving society rather than an authoritative text, the basic ideals of constitutionalism have been realized” [2]. Constitutionalism emerges in the wake of the end of the liberal presuppositions of modern political theology and everything that it implies for the stability, separation, and judicial control of public powers.
The system of constitutionalism presupposes a total governmental nexus whose legality (discretionary, exceptional, based on the application of general principles / ius) will be treated as “an order of values that evolves as social conditions change” [3]. The passage into an administrative system of legal order presupposes a suture between principles and political necessity, state and civil society, economic rationality and executive planning and oversight. The old paradigm of the modern “dual state”, theorized by Ernst Fraenkel in the 40s have now supplied an internal abdication of positivist jurisprudence and minimalist constitutional framework, paving the way for the total constitutionalization as a flexible art of governance. Although it has been said that the first constitutional drafting of the new Chilean constitution was confusing and overtly ideological (a “magical realist” menu of rights and everything under the sun, one contemporary jurist called it), there is still something to say about the veneer of “social rights” within the epochal system of constitutionalism [4]. It is at times forgotten that the abundance of enumerated social rights implies the infrastructure of constitutionalism to bind legal, political, and social spheres into a regulatory apparatus without fissures. To govern the social means steering over the abstraction of social values. There are good reasons to discharge skepticism against constitutionalism, and they keep coming. Of course, the argument of skepticism, alas, rarely has good press (it fails to provide an insight into totality, Max Horkheimer famously argued), but I do think it is necessary to reclaim skepticism in the wake of the systematization of public constitutional principles [5]. Skepticism demands separation from constitutional absolutism and the legal nexus in which social action interaction finds itself. The skeptical position in the face of constitutionalism at its most minimalist bearing insists in the separation of life from law, of experience from political order, of expression from the order of rhetorical mimesis. The skeptic might not want to negative law as authority; but it wants to refuse the post-authoritarian conflation of life and social rule underpinning political domination.
To be able to see beyond the framework of constitutionalism is the task at hand, especially when the old predicates around the political subject and the social contract make their way back from a position of weakness and desperation (another way of saying that morality returns as nihilism). But one does understand its success: it is a compensatory psychic mechanism for the ongoing existential pain under the abstract orderability of the world. And where there is pain, there is also an accumulation of experience that pokes through the fictive state of things, refusing the objective staging of phenomena. Simply, it refuses to be absorbed by what’s available. At this point it becomes impossible not to recall the October revolt for one particular motive: mainly, that its emergence did not favor social demands nor was it driven by the grammar of a political program. Every experiential uprising has an aesthetic dimension – or even better, pictorial set up, a canvas of everyday life– that we have yet to rediscover. Painting from real life is no easy thing, some painters have told us. And something similar goes for the revolt: an alteration of gestures, inscriptions, graffitis, and corporal tracings, dissonances and masks color the expressive discharge against the pledge of objective realism and the police of languages. Indeed, pictorial skepticism can only emerge when there is an excess to representation; that is, when there is a sensible stubbornness to enter into contact with the unfathomable of the world as such. The world and its others, one should say. This pictorial dislocation of reality dispenses a rhythmic structure of the senses that is neither chaos nor destruction, but an arrangement of a different sort: the communication between souls (from soul to soul, Rimbaud had said) without regulatory mediations through the tokens of recognition and filiation. The rhythmic movements provide a spatial continuation devoid of justifications [6]. This is why pictorial semblance tells us something that language or the science of politics cannot. How can we last together as a community that is not?
Pictorial dislocation wants to claim distance and separation the non-totalizable while being there. Let us take a painting like Nicolas Poussin’s The Abduction of the Sabine Women (1633-1634): here we have a complex composition ordered around rhythms and modes of figures and distances; the possibilities of communication between forms and the expressivity of the figures hold everything as if in a state of grace. What is striking in the picture is the subtle mounting of activities and gestures without ever falling into the sublimation of the concept. There are no guidelines, and yet we feel that everything communicates. Or to put it in Poussin’s pictorial terminology: “what follows is unlearnable” [7]. I do not think that the painter tried to posit a negative foundation of knowledge for an even higher learning; rather the unlearnable is a practical activity (a gesture, a word, a contact) that is both unique and indispensable; impossible to let itself be arranged into a set of alienated function for a task. Poussin reminds us of the unknowability of rhythms taking place: an uncompressed experience outside the force of systematization. We need thought to incorporate something like this exercise in rhythm.
It does not come as a surprise that a conservative scholar during the first months of the October revolt hypostatized the event as a “gnostic program” claiming that: “Plato’s philosophy offered a simple solution to the gnostic problem: instead of adapting the world to our desire, the task is to adapt the soul of the world…we now know that public order is the our most urgent occupation” [8]. Needless to say, and as Díaz Letelier noted at the time, this was a political Platonism devoid of chōra as a nonsite of our sensible imagination that allows the renewal of the creative experience with the world [9]. There is no ‘common sense’ as the pragmatists of realism assert with conviction; there is only the sensorial passage allowed by the chōra. This is what constitutionalism needs to pacify and incorporate: the battle over the status of the soul at a moment in which material goods and its economic arrangement (and in the Chilean case, its negative subsidiarity principle) becomes insufficient for the psychic production of a rectilinear subject (a masculine subject, Alejandra Castillo would claim) [10]. The postliberal constitutionalism as it stands (and it is postliberal because it cannot longer said to appeal to an internal principle of positive norm nor to a source of ‘Higher Law’, but to the executive command of the principle); a world legal revolution of governmental administration of anomia, amounts to a systematic offensive that exceeds mere material appropriation or personal liquidation. And this is so, because its ultimate mission is the “soul murder” (seleenmord) that currently stands as the basic unit of the ensemble to govern over socialization[11]. Constitutionalism now appears as the last avatar of Americanism. Perhaps there is no higher and modest task at hand than affirming the medium of the chōra that preexists the submission of life into the polis, and which retains, like the pictorial gesture, the unlearnable and the unadaptive. Only this could slowly render another possible sense in the relationship between liberty and law.
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Notes
* This text was in preparation for the conversation panel on the current legal and political cycle in contemporary Chile with Alejandra Castillo, Rodrigo Karmy, and Philip Wohlstetter that took place in May 31, 2023 at the Red May Seattle Forum. The conversation is now archived here.
5. Max Horkheimer. “Montaigne and the Function of Skepticism”, in Between Philosophy and Social Science: Selected Early Writings (MIT Press, 1993), 265-313.
10. Carlos Frontaura. “Algunas notas sobre el pensamiento de Jaime Guzmán y la subsidiariedad”, in Subsidiariedad en Chile: Justicia y Libertad (Fundación Jaime Guzmán, 2016), 123.
11. Ernst Jünger. The Forest Passage (Telos Press, 2003), 93.
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].
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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.
Infrapolitical Reflections 