Friendship at the end of the world: On Frank Wilderson III’s Afropessimism (2020). by Gerardo Muñoz

The publication of Frank Wilderson III’s Afropessimism (Liveright, 2020) marks an important break in contemporary thought, which has been seating comfortably for too long in the pieties of identity, culturalism, and politization. One of the most immediate effects of Afropessimism is how it unmasks the way in which identity and cultural hegemonic discourses, far from constituting a different horizon of the existing cliché, actually mitigate a spectacle of devices for the domestication of other possibilities of thought. Of course, some were aware of said spectacle, but now with Wilderson’s experiential writing the allure of subaltern subject position is finally destroyed from within. Wilderson’s account escapes two routes of the witness position: that of the personal memoir that contributes to a narrative of redemption; and on its reverse, that of testimonio, which in the postcolonial debates of the 1990s solicited a politics of alliance with the subaltern voice for a new politics of truth. In this sense, Wilderson’s Afropessimism is a post-hegemonic work through and through insofar as it destroys the hegemony of the citizen-subject of Liberalism, but also that of subaltern as a mere stock in the production of hegemony. As Wilderson claims early in the book “Black people embody a meta-aporia for political thought and action”, as such, Afropessimism is a radically unstable force that brings to bear the unthought of the most predomination critical paradigms of university discourse (Marxism, Postcolonial theory, feminism) as aggregation of politics of the subject  (13-14). 

Afropessimism is first and foremost a dislocation of the toolbox of critical of theory as always already complicit with the general movement of the imperial policing of thinking. The strategy is always the same when it comes to administrating a regime of reflexive order: posit a paradigm of a subject position and then mobilize it against other subjects. There is nothing radical about this validation; quite the contrary, it coincides with the arbitrary hierarchization of values proper to Liberalism’s current designs. Wilderson wants to destroy analogy just like he wants to be done with narrative of redemption, or ethical alliance since all of these are forms of reductions of the true experience of living at the “end of the world”. This is the apothegm from Fanon that creates the apocalyptic circuit in the book. What does it mean to live at the end of the world? This the vortex of Afropessimism, the atopic site that inscribes the existential conundrum of the Black form of life. The apocalyptic “end of the world” must be read as a concrete inhabitation of life, that is, “being at the end of the world entails Black folks at their best”, writes Wilderson (40). This entails that there is no world without Blacks, but Black experience is an incessant drift at the limit of the world as captured by the entrapment of Humanity. I take it that Wilderson means that “Afropessimism is Black folks at their best” in relation to a form of life at the level of experience that is not only constitutive of sociability, but that it also an intensity that rejects any domesticating efforts into a more “democratic” or “hegemonic” civil society. Under the rule of equivalent demands, where subjects and objects are exchanged (or camouflaged in the name of “Rights”), the Black can only constitute a “social death” that breaks any equilibrium, or that sustains the hylomorphism of its others (102). This goes to the heart of the articulation of hegemony, which for decades has been the leftist horizon of a good and democratic politics, but which for Wilderson amounts to the very logistics of the democratic plantation. In an important moment of the book, Wilderson argues against the theory of hegemony: 

“In the solicitation of hegemony, so as to fortify and extend the interlocutory life of civil society, ultimately accommodate only the satiable  demands  and  legible  conflicts  of civil society’s junior  partners  (such as immigrants, White women, the working class), but foreclose upon the  insatiable  demands and illegible  antagonisms of Blacks. In short, whereas such coalitions and social movements cannot be called the outright handmaidens of anti- Blackness, their rhetorical structures, political desire, and their emancipatory horizon are bolstered by a life- affirming  anti- Blackness; the death of Black desire.” (240)

There is no hegemony that is not conditioned by a non-subject, an abyss that marks the aggregation of their equivalent subjective demands. This is why the non-demand of the Black, who has nothing for exchange, remains at the limit of hegemony, or rather what I call a posthegemonic fissure, in which democratic desire and hegemonic articulation enter into an incommensurable zone. Given that blackness is the site of “social death…the first step toward the destruction if to assume one’s position and then burn the ship or the plantation from the inside out. However, as Black people we are often psychically unable and unwilling to assume this position. This is as understandable as it is impossible” (103). This is consistent with Wilderson’s label of Afropessimism as an aporetic meta-theoretical paradigm. The question of the possibility of an experiential exodus to an outside, and not just an internal limit to the metaphysics of Humanity is most definitely one question that one could raise about its “epistemological void” as parasitical to the infinite production of subjectivity (164). It is clear that by rejecting hegemony, Wilderson also has to give up any liberationist horizon at the service of a political project committed to Black emancipation. For Wilderson the legitimacy is somewhere else: “Afropessimism is not an ensemble of theoretical interventions that leads the struggle for Black liberation. One should think  of it as a theory  that is legitimate because it has secured a mandate from Black people at their best; which is to say, a mandate to speak the analysis and rage that most Black people are free only to whisper” (173). It is a rage that one could counterpose as the opposite of the subaltern politics of truth; in order words, it is a rage experienced against the “gratuitous violence” that divides the antagonism between a singular life and the world of the state of things and its people. 

The vortex of Wilderson’s Afropessisism, however, is not just the rejection of hegemonic articulation or the benevolent solidarity as administrated domination, it is rather the emphasis of a new world caesura that he frames in this way: “…the essential antagonism is the antagonism between Blacks and the world: the centrality of Black people’s social death, the grammar of suffering of the slave…” (174). This essential conflict stages the antagonism at the level of the debates about the frontier of Humanism, for which the Black, insofar as it is a figure of the non-subject, already acts an archipolitics that frees the intensification of any politics of liberation now transfigured as a liberation from politics [1]. This archipolitics dwells in the intensification of a non-identity that is irreducible to any hegemonic fantasy that labors on solidarity, equivalency, unity, program, demand, projection. And why not, also against the democratic polity (insofar as democracy cannot be thought outside the jointing of two apparatuses of civil society renewal: citizenship and mobilization). This archipolitics of Afropessimism puts into crisis the general categories of modern political thought, I am also tempting to limit this claim to the very notion of democratic practice as previously defined. Here the “legitimacy” that Wilderson evokes is no longer at the level of a new democratic renewal – which is always within the spirit of the modern liberal design; indeed, recently some have made legitimacy and hegemony conceptual couples – but rather as a poking outside the democratic imagination, which ultimately feeds Black social death, even when sustained by the social contract of hegemonic alliances.

Is there something beyond the subjection to alliance? In other words, what if being at the “end of the world” is also the time to undue the mystification of solidarity in the name of friendship? I agree with Jon Beasley-Murray, also writing about Frank Wilderson III, that the idea should not be to win over friends, but rather to suggest that friendship is still possible flight [2]. I would go as far as to call friendship an event of thought. Indeed, friendship has no stories to tell and does not seek redemption; it also betrays normative ethics each and every time. This is not to say that there such a thing as an archipolitics of friendship, nor a political program for a friendship of community. We have enough of that in every community form. Perhaps if we accept the event of singular friendship, we can move beyond the logistics of antagonism and hostility that are constitutive of Humanity, but irreducible to the specie that confronts the destiny of the inhuman. As a great thinker of the twentieth century wrote: “there are infinite possibilities of inhumanity in each man. There is no external enemy; this is why the tragic exists. This simple maxim confirms the fundamental thought of Robert Antelme. The “no-man” in man, attentive to perfection is what allows the sedimentation of the concentration camps. […] Friendship for me is not a positive thing nor a value, but rather a state, a multiplication of death, of interrogation, a neutral site where I can sense the unknown, the site where difference only expands in the place of its contrary – in proximity to death” [3]. One question that must accompany Wilderson’s formative book is whether the “spirit of friendship” with inhuman can be something like solace without redemption at the end of the world. Friendship could be understood here as the marker for the disunification of forms of life outside the condition of hostility without falling into nihilism. At the point, perhaps psychological categories such as optimism or pessimism now lose their relevancy as forms of life realize that they are already dwelling at the of the end of the world. 


  1. The conceptualization of Afropessisism as an archipolitics I owe to Alberto Moreiras. See his note “Whiteness and Humanity”, July 2020: “
  2. 2. Jon Beasley-Murray. “Afropessimism”, July 2020:
  3. Dionys Mascolo. En torno a un esfuerzo de memoria: sobre una carta de Robert Antelme. Madrid: Arena Libros, 2005. 57. The translation to English is mine. 

La izquierda aglutinante y el corte. por Gerardo Muñoz


Hay una máxima de Jean Gratien sobre Saint-Just cuya contundencia sigue latiendo en nuestro presente. Escribía Gratien: “La “inhumanidad” de Saint-Just radica en que no tuvo como los demás hombres varias vidas distintas, sino una sola”. Toda la miseria del izquierdismo político puede despejarse desde aquí. ¿En qué sentido? A primera vista esta máxima es una enmienda a toda la teoría de las esferas de acción del hombre moderno cuya saturación antropológica ha acabado dispensando al ‘sujeto deconstruido’ de la metrópoli. Pero no deseo recorrer este registro. En un segundo nivel, lo que Gratien buscaba elucidar era algo así como un ethos de la existencia capaz de cortar las compensaciones de toda política ideológica. Pensemos por un momento en qué significa esto hoy. Pensemos por un momento en la izquierda. ¿Tiene la izquierda hoy un programa solvente para la época que no sea sumatorio?

Mirando a diversas realidades es casi imposible divisar cuál es. Y sin embargo lo que sí tiene es lo que una vez el periodista militante Horacio Verbitksy (un ideólogo profesional) llamó una “aglutinación subjetivante”. Es una expresión notable porque condensa la cultura sumatoria de la izquierda. De ahí que el giro “tradicionalista” de la izquierda contemporánea tenga la forma de una bolsa de juguetes: leninismo, socialdemocracia, liberalismo, zapatismo, comunitarismo horizontal, sesentayochismo, filología marxiana del sur, movimiento de movimientos, latinoamericanismo, decolonialidad, etc. La lista es contingente a las demandas del presente. Como en la dogmática eclesiástica, lo importante no es definir un programa o asumir una postura en nombre de algo, sino fijar la jerarquía en el retablo. Para volver a Gratien: de lo que se trata es de retener esas muchas vidas compensatorias en lugar de una vida.

Esta actitud ante el mundo no es banal ni fortuita, al contrario, es la fuente misma de la mala fe que oxigena la idolatría. Y es una postura trágica en el sentido más fuerte de la palabra, puesto que una política que abandona “una vida” es una política que ya no tiene destino. No es casual, entonces, que la izquierda de la aglutinación termine encandilada con el principio de la “hegemonía” puesto que el hegemon es precisamente lo que ordena y gobierna sobre la dispersión de los fragmentos, lo que los vuelve lisos, y lo que termina garantizado el trámite equivalencial. En realidad, no hay diferencia alguna entre el partido de la aglutinación y la teoría de la hegemonía. La hegemonía es su último avatar.

Lo tragicómico de todo es que la hegemonía habla de “revolución” constantemente. Sin lugar a duda, en todo exceso retórico hay una compensación a un impasse práctico. Por eso la definición entre izquierda y revolución acuñada por Dionys Mascolo en un momento de casería de brujas sigue siendo tremendamente actual: “Todo lo que se designa como de izquierda es ya equívoco. Pero lo que se designa como «la izquierda» lo es mucho más. El reino de la izquierda se extiende desde todo aquello que no se atreve a ser franca y absolutamente de derecha, o reaccionario (o fascista), hasta todo aquello que no se atreve a ser francamente revolucionario” [1]. De nada sirve invocar infinitamente una tradición revolucionaria si se quiere ejecutar una revolución. De nada sirve llamarle al otro contrarevolucionario. Por eso hay izquierda por todas partes, pero ni de lejos una teoría revolucionaria. Pero sabemos que un corte contra la hegemonía es la apertura a otra cosa. Esta es la invitación a otro viaje.



  1. Dionys Mascolo. Sur le sens et l’usage du mot “gauche”. Paris: Nouvelles Èditions Lignes, 2011.