Infrapolitics

9/4/2019 infrapolitics | Infrapolitical Deconstruction
Infrapolitical Deconstruction
CAT EG ORY A RCHI V ES : INFRA PO LITI CS
Cuaderno de apuntes sobre la obra

de Rafael Sánchez Ferlosio. Segunda
Parte. Por Gerardo Muñoz
Posted on April 9, 2019 by Gerardo.Muñoz
¿Qué es un pecio? El último libro de Sánchez Ferlosio, Campo de retamas: pecios reunidos
(2015) es una exploración total de esa forma. El pecio no llega a ser un aforismo, ni tampoco un
decálogo de máximas, en la estela de La Rochefoucauld o Lichtenberg. Definición de pecio según
la lexicógrafa María Moliner: “pecio es resto de una nave naufragada o de lo que iba en ella”.
El pecio irradia desconfianza, dice Ferlosio: “Desconfíen siempre de un autor de “pecio’. Aún sin
quererlo, es fácil estafar porque los textos de una sola frase son los que mass se prestan a ese
fraude de la “profundidad”, fetiche de los necios, siempre ávidos de asentir con reverencia a
cualquier sentenciosa lapidariedad vacía de sentido pero habilidosamente elaborada con palabras
de charol” (p.11). El pecio puede derivar el poder de lo indiscutible, y lo indiscutible es “como un
carisma que sacraliza la palabra” (p.11).
El pecio, por lo tanto, es un resto que descarga la deriva sacer del lenguaje. Los restos nunca
pueden terminar en la síntesis de la Alta Alegoría. El pecio por lo tanto no interesa tanto como
forma, sino, para decirlo con Rodriguez Matos, de lo informe. Esto es lo interesante del pecio: su
potencia al delegarnos una metafórica del naufragio. En Campo de retamos no hay ningún
esfuerzo meta-teórico por definir el pecio. Todo pecio es singularidad, porque es superficie y
extravío. De ahí también su densidad.
El pecio como metafórica del naufragio. Según Hans Blumenberg, el naufragio es la mejor
exposición de la existencia humana. En el mar encontramos al existente en una situación de
riesgo anómico. Mar es anomia. En la experiencia del naufragio, vemos la miseria y la
autoafirmación de lo humano. Blumenberg cuenta anécdota que aparece en uno de los diarios
tardíos de Jünger: los marineros antes del siglo diecinueve negaban sin saber nadar. La razón era
simple: delegan a la velocidad del tiempo de una probable muerte (caso de naufragio) la
https://infrapolitica.com/category/infrapolitics/ 1/34
incapacidad de ejecutar una acción. En otras palabras, incluso en una región anómica como el
mar, la existencia habilita mecanismos de distanciamiento y repliegue. Por esta razón, lo más
importante en la vida no es la unidad o la cohesión social, sino lo que trasciende la vida. Solo esto
puede ser realmente considerado lo sagrado en la vida (lo ex-sacer), esto es, una vida
auténticamente profana.
Volvamos a la cuestión de la singularidad contra la cohesión social que para Ferlosio remite al
problema de la “unidad”. Escribe Ferlosio: “…la expresión “cohesión social: ninguna otra palabra
podría recordar más de cerca el pegamento capaz de pegar cascotes rotos, pero no de conciliar
personas” (p.47). Volviendo a la metafórica del naufragio: en el mar el naufragio se distancia de la
unidad como artificio compensatorio. La unidad es una invención de la autorictas, de la misma
manera que “el destino es un invento de la desventura, como el pecado es un invento del castigo
y el juez es un invento del verdugo” (p.97). Se pide “unidad” para no pedir el sacrificio; son
bondades de la gramática de la hegemonía. Es importante que en uno de los pecios de Campo de
retamas se titule explícitamente ‘Anti-Goethe’, porque aquí queda expuesta la crítica ferlosiana a
la noción de “vida”:
“A nadie podría sentir yo más ajeno y más contrario que al que dijo: “Gris, mi querido amigo, es
toda teoría; verde, en verdad, el árbol de la vida”. Siempre ha parecido a mí, por el contrario, ser
la vida lo gris, y aun lo lóbrego, lo nusiestor, polviente y reseca momia de si misa. Verde, tan solo
he visto, justamente, el árbol idea de la teoría; dorada, solo la imaginario florido de la utopía…
desafiando la ominosa noche, en la ciudad bajo los bombardeos” (p.126).
No es menor que el blanco sea Goethe. Puesto que Goethe es la figura ilustrada en el camino de
la Forma. La vida es ya la formalización de la existencia. De ahí la postura anti-Goethe. En
cambio, a Ferlosio le interesa el desvío en lo informe. La unidad de la vida como facticidad
alimenta las pretensiones de la Historia. Como escribe Ferlosio: “El fascismo consiste sobre todo
en no limitarse a hacer política y pretender hacer historia” (p.53). La vida de la heliopolítica de
Goethe es una Alta Alegoría de la Humanidad: lo que es legibilidad en la Historia (Lux) se
convierte en la pegatina de la “unidad” en política. Ferlosio, en cambio, es un pensador fuerte de
la separación. En realidad, el pecio es la unidad mínima de la separación entre vida y existencia,
plenitud y naufragio, sol y la noche del pensamiento. El derecho positivista no nunca puede
recoger esto como “alfombra solada bajo un suelo futuro” (p.103).
El pecio es el resto profano irreductible a la unidad. Hacia la última parte de Campo de retamas,
escribe Ferlosio: “La amistad relaciona a los hombre en su condicion de de hombres; la unidad los
junta y mantiene juntos como cosas. La unidad destruye la amistad porque la desplaza y la
reemplaza, usurpando su lugar. La unidad funciona igual que un pegamento, es una especie de
sindeticón, que mantiene pegados a los hombres como cascotes inertes, inconscientes, de un
cacharro roto…El origen del concepto de unidad no es otro que la guerra y la dominación” (p.200).
La unidad es condición de toda cohesión social que suprime la stasis en nombre de la guerra
como motor dialéctico de la Historia. ¿Qué es la teoría para Ferlosio? El árbol más verde, porque
es la contemplación de las formas de vida. En el artículo del 2002 titulado “Naufragios
democráticos”, Ferlosio retoma la metafórica marítima para discutir de la crisis como arte del
gobierno: “…”crisis” no connota el inmediato aspecto “natural” del accidente”, sino el mediato del
riesgo político electoral” (Ensayos 2, p.306-308). La crisis es la afirmación de la excepción en lo

inmediato.
En otras palabras, la crisis en política no es un elemento creativo (Schumpeter) de la naturaleza

del capitalismo. La crisis es la forma en que la guerra es administrada desde la eficacia del error.
No dejar de ser curioso que las últimas palabras de Ferlosio, reaparezca la metafórica del
naufragio, en versos de Leopardi: “E il naufragar m’e dolce in questo mare”. Una oposición
importante en Ferlosio: riesgo vs. naufragio.
El concepto de “riesgo” no es ajeno al constitucionalismo. En cambio, el naufragio del pecio nos

retrae a la desobra de otra imaginación. Una imaginación que siempre antecede a los titanismos
del polemos del orden.
Primera Entrega
Posted in infrapolitics, Uncategorized | Tagged formas de vida, Goethe, metaforica, pecio,

Sanchez Ferlosio | 2 Replies
Cuaderno de apuntes sobre la obra

de Rafael Sánchez Ferlosio. Primera
Parte. Por Gerardo Muñoz
La serie a continuación son solamente notas de lectura en preparación para el curso que daremos
en unos meses titulado “Rafael Sánchez Ferlosio y la infrapolítica“. La lectura va dirigida en
función de dos hipótesis de trabajo: a. Primero, tener una idea integral de la operación
“destructiva” de Ferlosio; operación que abriría, según ha dicho el propio escritor, una entrada a
“la esencia de la lengua pertenece al ser profana” (Pecios, p.12). Ferlosio pertenece – junto a una
serie de escritores, como Simone Weil, Cristina Campo, Yan Thomas, Giorgio Agamben, o María
Zambrano – a una modalidad que busca cuestionar el suelo sagrado (sacer) de los dispositivos
del humanismo. b. Segundo, me interesa ver lo que Sánchez Ferlosio tiene que decir sobre la
optimización del conflicto contra el paradigma de la guerra. Estas dos líneas de lectura buscan
explorar lo que pudiéramos llamar el arcano de la obra Sánchez Ferlosio. Para llevar a cabo estas
interrogaciones, utilizaremos solo dos fuentes bibliográficas: los ensayos reunidos en cuatro
volúmenes (ed. Ignacio Echevarria, Debolsillo, 2018), y la biografía El incognito Rafael Sánchez
Ferlosio: apuntes para una biografía (Ardora Ediciones, 2017), de J. Benito Fernández. Una de las
metas de esta investigación es poder llegar a decir algo sistemático sobre la crítica de los
fundamentos teológicos-políticos de Sánchez Ferlosio. Sólo así pudiéramos despejar en él la
órbita infrapolítica.
En esta primera parte quiero detenerme en el ensayo de 1996-1999 titulado “El Castellano y
Constitución” (p.397-443). Interesa por al menos dos razones: como comentario a la escritura de
las constituciones, y como análisis del aparato lingüístico. El punto de partida, para Ferlosio, es
una máxima constitucional: “El castellano es la lengua española oficial del Estado. Todos los
españoles tienen el deber de conocerla y el derecho a usarla“.
Es curioso que Ferlosio no diga nada de los dos polos que cierran la máxima, y cuyo peso
conceptual no se le escapa a nadie: deber y uso. Veremos si en textos posteriores Ferlosio
pondrá atención en la noción kantiana de “deber” que tanta influencia ha ejercido en el derecho
moderno y en la subjetividad hispánica (Opus Dei). Ferlosio prefiere aislar estos términos para
enfocarse en la esencia “modal” de la expresión, y de la estructura del presente indicativo (p.399).
Las constituciones tiene mucho de presente del indicativo, pero también de la forma modal. Esto
hace que se establezca una especie de “efecto de noticia”, que la vuelve siempre actual (p.400).
Dice Ferlosio: “Así pues, el que informa a otro del contenido de una ley usa el presente, porque da
noticia de algo que, por decirlo con la lúgubre formula inmemorialmente acunad para el destino,
ya “esta escrito”. Con esta misma fórmula “está escrito”, se remitían los judíos a la Torá, a la Ley,
cuyos libros no, ciertamente, por casualidad tomaron precisamente el nombre de Escrituras”
(p.400-401).
Ferlosio detecta uno de los misterios del derecho en Occidente: la ley tiene que estar escrita. No
hay derecho sin escritura. La escritura misma en la constitución es “escritura escribiente” (p.401).
(Nikolas Bowie tiene un artículo muy interesante sobre este problema como la arcana del
constitucionalismo norteamericano: “Why the Constitution Was Written Down”, Stan.L.Rev, 2019).
Pensar aquí en Yan Thomas: la escritura funciona como uno de las operaciones de la artificialidad
del derecho. Esta es una de las herencias fuertes de la romanitas. Lo importante, nos dice
Ferlosio, es que el presente indicativo de la escritura constitucional no es un “valor veritativo”, sino
imperativo: “La ley es un mandato obligante; su enunciado no puede ser más verdadero o falso de
cuanto puede serlo una frase en el modo llamado “imperativo” (p.401).
¿Qué es un mandato? Es la pregunta que sobresale en estas páginas de Ferlosio. El mandato

traspasa el límite de lo verídico, y puede prescindir de ella, puesto que su interés es producir una
orden que a su vez ordene. Esta es la esencia del sacramento (p.402). El mandato es principio y
orden, pero más importante, dice Ferlosio, es que produce un sentido de “futuro”, ya que la
afirmación del sujeto y predicado ya esta dada. Piénsese en este mandato: “Pondrás la mesa
todos los días” (p.406). La futuridad no es una cosa de mera temporalidad abstracta, sino de la
construcción de hábitos y normas efectivas. El derecho es la coherencia de la normalización.
Dice Ferlosio: “La noción de norma, no acepta en modo alguno cubrir una orden ocasional como
la que se dan “imperativo”, de tal manera que puede servir como piedra de toque para distinguir
entre las funciones del modo “imperativo” y las del “futuro” (p.407). Lo decisivo aquí: el indicativo
de la ley produce “vigencia” (p.408). O también pudiéramos decir, eficacia. Por eso, la ley no
puede ser más que el futuro, nunca el presente (p.409). En realidad esto es importante, puesto
que si pensamos en las discusiones sobre el “originalismo” en el constitucionalismo
norteamericano, el debate pareciera ser una operación de fidelidad en el origen, pero no es tal. La
verdadera operación es instrumentalizar el principio para tener acceso directo al futuro y atrapar al
destino. Ferlosio cita una frase de Benjamin que va directo al problema: “El juez puede ver el
destino donde quiere; en cada pena debe infligir ciegamente el destino” (p.410). Pero como decía
Carl Schmitt (Hamlet o Hecuba): ningún destino inventado es un destino. Y este es el problema.
Este también es el problema de la lengua. El castellano se ha vuelto ley escrita y por lo tanto un
dispositivo de la hegemonía imperial, perdiendo radicalmente su destino material y profano.
Termino con este momento al final del ensayo. Escribe Ferlosio sobre el “castellano”: “…España
no significa la unidad e integridad – o “de destino” – sino sencillamente la amistad entre sus
reinos o, en lenguaje de la Iglesia, la “paz y concordia entre los príncipes cristianos” (p.437). La
operación moderna por la cual la guerra civil es suprimida y desplazada, a cambio del miedo
(Hobbes) y la auctoritas tiene un secreto importante en la operación de la lengua como forma del
imperativo. Un imperativo que está ya siempre caído al imperii del futuro.
Posted in infrapolitics, Uncategorized | Tagged Constitucionalismo, Derecho, Destino,

Futuro, Sanchez Ferlosio | 1 Reply
La sinousia de Platón. Por

Gerardo Muñoz.
Posted on May 3, 2018 by Gerardo.Muñoz
En el intercambio que acabo de terminar con Giorgio Agamben (de próxima aparición en el
número monográfico sobre su obra editado en la revista Papel Máquina), el filósofo italiano vuelve
a insistir, luego de una pregunta mía sobre L’uso dei corpi (2014), sobre la necesidad de pensar
una “institucionalización de la potencia destituyente”. Esta operación es completamente
contradictoria, dice Agamben, ya que el poder destituyente es, en cada caso, lo que permanece
irreducible al derecho y lo que se desprende de cualquier cuadratura jurídica. Agamben cita el
término platónico synousia, que no es fácil de traducir, pues consta de varios sentidos técnicos en
los diálogos socráticos. Sinousia puede significar “estar-juntos”, pero también “estar-con” o
“juntarse” (recogimiento de más de una persona), y a veces “vivir juntos” o “aprender juntos”.
Al final de L’uso dei corpi (2014), Agamben lo emplea en la designación que aparece en Leyes de
Platón (y no en la “Carta VII”, que es el otro lugar con el que se le suele asociar): metà synousia
pollen. Pudiera traducirse como “perdurar estando-juntos”. Parecería una definición más o menos
convencional de la institución política entendida como la descarga de pruebas para “aliviar” los
hábitos de los hombres ante la realidad.
Pero Agamben pasa a recordarnos que la sinousia de Platón no es una institución política, ni
puede pensarse en función de la esfera del derecho, ni tampoco como instrumento jurídico. Esto
tiene sentido en la obra del filósofo italiano, para quien la concepción de institución política en
Occidente es ya una figura caída a la dinámica del gobierno (oikonomia) en cuanto administración
del mal, tal y como ha sido expuesto en su ensayo sobre Benedicto XVI (hace algún tiempo
reseñamos ese libro aquí). Por lo tanto, la sinousia platónica es de otro orden.
Este orden Agamben lo relacionada con la harmonía musical. Una metáfora que implícitamente
alude a la concepción de la kallipolis, o de la belleza de la ciudad griega que integra la
singularidad como exceso de la politización. La sinousia produce belleza en la polis, pero esa
belleza no es ni puede ser una belleza política. Claro, una práctica sinousyal produciría mayor
rango de Justicia, que es, al fin y al cabo, la posibilidad de rebajar la dominación del hombre por
el hombre. Pero la kallipolis no es un agregado de ‘diferencias culturales’, ni se vincula a la
metaforización de identidades en equivalencia. Se prepara una kallipolis desde la sinousia.
En cualquier caso, la sinousia nos remite a un singular en relación que, sorprendentemente, tiene
un parecido a lo que Jorge Alemán ha llamado una soledad-común. La soledad del singular evita
dormirse ante el anhelo de una totalidad sin fisuras. Es llamativo, por ejemplo, que en varios de
los diálogos platónicos (Teages, Teeteto, Epístola VII, o Apología), Sócrates emplee la sinousia
para referirse a dos cosas opuestas: al trabajo de una partera que acoge al recién nacido, y al
maestro (Sócrates) en relación con sus discípulos.
Una primera intuición nos haría pensar que la sinousia es una vía para “formar personas” o dar
“entrada al sujeto”. Sin embargo, sabemos muy bien que Sócrates es un filósofo que no sabe
nada. Por eso es válida la distinción entre Sócrates y el platonismo, así como entre Jesucristo y el
Cristianismo. En el diálogo Teages, por ejemplo, el discípulo Arístides le confiesa que él no ha
aprendido absolutamente nada. La sinousia es una renuncia a la relación de subordinación al
discurso maestro, y solo así está en condiciones de inscribir un quiebre en el saber que ha dejado
de cumplir las tareas de “epistemizar” contenidos y producir formas.
La única manera en que la sinousia innova es cuando deja madurar al daimonion. Estamos ante
el trabajo de un filósofo-analista que descree de las ingenuidades de la conciencia y rechaza
administrar el goce del otro en nombre de una comunidad nómina. Por eso la sinousia platónica
apunta a algo más allá de la subordinación a la ley del maestro o de una ‘voluntad colectiva’. Me
atrevería a decir que la institucionalización que estaría pensando Agamben, aunque él no la hace
explícita, es la de un anarco-institucionalismo, contra la supremacía de los teólogos (punto
ambiguo en Leyes), que cuida de un proceso transformativo del singular más allá de lo
propiamente político o antipolítico. La sinousia es índice de la separación en toda relación de co-
existencia.
Es llamativo que Foucault en el curso de 1982-83, oponga la sinousia a la mathemata. Mientras la

segunda da “forma” y vuelve “formulaicos” los contenidos del saber, la sinousia es destello de luz
y “secreto lubricante del alma” en la absorción generativa de la filosofía. O en palabras de
Sánchez Ferlosio, el “fondo de un punto ciego por el que entra la noche. Ese nadir es la aporía de
una Razón completa”.
Posted in infrapolitics, politics | Tagged critica de derecho, Giorgio Agamben, Platón | 2

Replies
A Merciful Reason: on David Soto

Carrasco’s España: Historia y
Revelación, un ensayo sobre el
pensamiento político de María
Zambrano. By Gerardo Muñoz.
In the new book España: Historia y Revelación, un ensayo sobre el pensamiento político de María
Zambrano (Círculo Rojo, 2018), David Soto Carrasco has given us a systematic treatment of
Zambrano’s philosophical project in a double interpretative frame (in the sense that he considers
both the philosophy-political implications of her work for Spain and European modernity
simultaneously) of her oeuvre. According to Soto Carrasco, Zambrano’s originality resides in a
highly unique modality of thought that goes well beyond the confines of Philosophy (the
metaphysical tradition), which produced a speculative critique of European history as it descended
into political nihilism. In fact, Zambrano, very much like Simone Weil or Judith Shklar, writes from
the abysmal non-place of the ruin of the political, and the rise of new tempting fears and pieties.
Her confrontation with liberalism and democracy, at least since her vocational years as a student
of Jose Ortega y Gasset, expands thinking to the turbulence of those historically defeated. Indeed,
Zambrano never stopped reflecting upon what she perceived as the sacrificial structure of history
and the need to open up to a non-imperial relation to politics in the name of democracy.
España: Historia y Revelación fills an important gap in contemporary thinking about the origins of
the political, which remains unsteady if not failing in confronting the complex philosophical
inheritance of the great thinker from Malaga [1]. Quite to our surprise, and very early on in his
book, Soto Carrasco advances a downy version of his thesis, in which he calls for Zambrano’s
thinking as that which bends towards an infrapolitical relation to sovereignty against the liberal
foundation of politics. Carrasco states:
“…[Zambrano] pretenderá abandonar todo intento de política soberana, esto es, de establecer lo
político sobre la base de un concepto infrapolítico de soberanía. De este modo, nuestro ensayo
plantea que hay un mesianismo impolítico que recorre toda la obra de Zambrano. Desde esta
perspectiva, la historia consistirá en que haya siempre victimas e ídolos” (Soto Carrasco 19).
Taking distance from the Schmittian critique of liberal neutralization from the friend-enemy divide
integral to unity of political theology, Soto Carrasco identifies that Zambrano’s “infrapolitics” (which
he only mentions once without specifications of a narrow sense of the term) announces a
solicitation of democratic community against a thwarting of sacrificial history and the subject of
sacrifice. This is fair enough. Soto Carrasco has in mind Zambrano’s categories of “el claro”, “la
vida sin textura”, and “razón poética”, which prepare the path for an athological gnosis and
arranges the conditions for what the philosopher termed the “person of democracy” [2].
Zambrano’s project for the interwar and postwar period was undoubtedly an extraordinary
meditation for the Liberal interregnum and its modern political ideologies. In what follows, I would
like to assess the limits and reaches of Zambrano’s project in Soto Carrasco’s reading, which in
our times, due to the conditions of global and the effective disintegration of inter-state sovereignty,
could allow us to think beyond some of the impasses of the valence of reason and poetics, which
are still latent in contemporary thought.
Zambrano’s thinking took off in the 1930s in books such as Horizonte del liberalismo (1930) and
Hacia un saber del alma (1934). This is a period of a strong readjustment of European politics and
parliamentary democracy. It was a period that went through the rise of fascism, totalitarianism from
the right and the left, but also of instances of restoration (conservatism), revolution (left-wing
communism), and welfare containment (United States). As Carrasco reminds us, Zambrano not
only wanted to make these epochal shifts legible. She also wanted to assume an “insalvable
distancia”, or an “irreducible distance” from a politics that had “shipwrecked into scientism and the
most mediocre form of positivism” as the justification of dictatorship and ius imperi. This is a
position that Zambrano shares with the Heidegger of the Parmenides, who understood the imperial
inheritance of the hegemonic domination under the sign of the Roman falsum. Zambrano was
highly aware of the calculative operation of the politics that we now associate with the principle of
general equivalence as the ontology of modern civil society. In this sense, fascism and
communism were two ends of the continuation of absolutism.
But so was liberalism, which in Zambrano’s view, failed due not just to its foundation on a “moral
economy”, but because it eluded to the sentimental dimension of man, making him a human, but
not a person. The modern foundationalism of the political ran in tandem with a process of the
absolutization of the logos. This meant that reason was opposed to myth, a component that had
always helped the psychic balance to battle the different external absolutisms of reality. In this way,
Zambrano’s definition of conservatism – “it wants to not just have reason, but absolute reason” –
could well apply across the ideological spectrum to identify the nihilism of politics. This dead end
leads to a philosophy of history, whose horizon of sacrifice undermines the res publica as well as
the separation of powers of democracy. The notion of person, in a complete reversal of Simone
Weil’s impersonal characterization of the sacred, was the condition for democracy as a livable
experience in Zambrano’s own propositional horizon in light of the crisis of liberalism.
Against a politics of domination and sacrifice, one would expect Zambrano to turn to philosophy or
tradition. But it is here, as Soto Carrasco argues, that we find a poetological turn in her work as a
retreat from the imperial-theological drift of modernity. Carrasco asserts: “La poesía se reivindicará
como género para evadir la sistemática razón moderna y rememorar un orden sagrado perdido.
La poesía será su más clara revelación” (Soto Carrasco 51). It is at conjuncture where Zambrano’s
Spanish context should be taken into account, says Carrasco, since due to the insufficiency or
absence of a philosophical tradition in the Iberian Peninsula, there was no concept to find refuge
in, but rather, the Spanish ethos was to be found in poetry or the novel. In authors like Machado,
Bergamín, Unamuno, or Galdós, Zambrano will clear a path for what she calls an “intuition of a
world and a concept of life” (Soto Carrasco 55). In this turn, we arrive at a substitution of
Philosophy for the Poem with the promise that it will grant a “verdadera vida” or a true life, at least
at the level of intra-national Spanish topoi. This strategy is more or less repeated for the European
space in the essays published between 1943 and 1945, such as La agonía de Europa or La
confesión, género literarios y método, which for Soto Carrasco complements her critique of logos
in the tradition of the West that runs from Plato to Heidegger (Soto Carrasco 73). It is difficult to
accept Heidegger as a thinker of logos; a task that became the central operation for the
destruction of Western onto-theology and the new beginning of philosophy for an authentic life.
Soto Carrasco never fleshes out this complex discussion, and I suspect whether Zambrano herself
engaged in a thorough way with Heidegger’s work after the 1930s. But there is an important
distinction that Carrasco makes in the last part of his book in relation to Heidegger. When
commenting on Zambrano’s notion of “claro”, he writes:
“Por ello, el claro [de Zambrano] no es un Lichtung. Si para Heidegger la “apertura” va a actuar
como sorge, como una luz que ilumina la verdad la acción desde la capacidad interrogante, para
Zambrano, el “claro” es luz opaca, donde la Palabra surge a las “entrañas” porque en ellas se
padece con pasividad. De ahí que el filósofo se oponga al bienaventurado” (Soto Carrasco 125).
The differences are set straight here: Heidegger, in Carrasco’s reading of Cacciari’s reading
Zambrano, remains tied too deep into “philosophy”, where Zambrano opens a clear path for a
poem that instantiates itself in the divine and recognizes the blessed in ‘thy neighbor’. Zambrano
will be on the side of the poem of salvation, but also on the side of ethics. Whereas Heidegger is
situated in the threshold of a philosophical project that demands the question of being to be asked;
Zambrano’s poematic offering opens an inter-subject mode of care. Again, Soto Carrasco
thematizes the differences: “Si para Heidegger pensar el olvido del ser era pensar una posibilidad
no-imperial de lo político, para Zambrano, toda posibilidad de lo política fuera de una historia
sacrificial solo puede pensar desde el olvido de lo divino, de la relación abismada entre el hombre
y Dios, que el bueno de Molinos definió” (Soto Carrasco 83). Zambrano’s “new beginning” is not
properly existential, nor can we say after this description that it is one of an infrapolitics of
existence, but rather that of an ethics for a human history based on errancy and exile. But it is also
an exile that finds is meaning in opposition to the loss of country.
It is in this aporetic limit of Zambrano’s project that I would like to derive a few consequences from
Soto Carrasco’s intelligent and important reading. Just a couple of pages before this allusion to
Heidegger, Soto Carrasco quotes from La agonía de Europa that reads “in the Roman imperial
dominion, existence is lived like a nightmare” (Soto Carrasco 77). If existence is liberated from
imperial politics, but substituted to the ethical determination of the poem, isn’t there a risk of
assuming that the endgame of the “poetical reason”, based on “misericordia” and “un saber de
salvación y sufrimiento” is only capable of being moved by the delirium of the suffering of the
world, but not properly achieving a transformative freeing of existence against the transparency of
the concept (“la claridad de la idea”)? And does not the inverted messianic and redemptive time
posited by a gnosis arrangement against political gigantism, give us yet another chapter in the
history of salvation of the onto-theological tradition and its historical productivity? If, as Soto
Carrasco does not fail to remind us vis-à-vis Nietzsche, we need History but “History otherwise”,
what follows is that any messianic poematic history has unfulfilled this promise as it remains tied to
an account of subjection to salvation in detriment to existence, and hence within the walls of imperi
and its economy of “novelerías” (Soto Carrasco 105) [3].
It makes sense that the occlusion of existence paves the way for an explicit affirmation on “life”,
which Carrasco systematically teases out in the last chapters of the book. He quotes Zambrano
affirming that “la vida resulta ser, por lo pronto…un género literarios”; or in relation to Galdos’
characters “una vida habiendo conocido la extrema necesidad acaba libre de ella” (Soto Carrasco
107-08). It is not difficult to find in this concept of life the texture of the Franciscan form of life that,
while shredding off the goods of commerce, it still carries the vestiges of an ethical rule of an
ontology of the totality of the living (in fact Zambrano in a moment writes “una totalidad
desconocida que nos mueve”). This becomes even more present in Soto Carrasco’s defining
moment of “razón poética” for Zambrano as based on “love”:
“Es la razón poética hecha razón misericordiosa o piadosa. Amor que solo puede emerger de la
revelación, desde un nuevo nacimiento. Es fundar una “comunidad de corazones”. Ante las
Palabras de Juliana, se nuestro este eros…”. Yéndose de sí misma seguía sirviendo a la Piedad
sin ser devorada por ella, en la verdad de su vida” (Soto Carrasco 113).
Poetical reason offers a communitarian symbolization for a more “ethical Christianity” against the
dark night of imperial politics in the name of a new salvation. Zambrano’s mysticism sought in the
Spanish tradition of symbols that could mobilize a détente against the force of philosophy and
politics, and the hegemony of reason spiraling downwards. The question is whether Zambrano’s
poetical and merciful reason can provide us with an authentic exodus from onto-theology and
alternative foundations. Or, if on the contrary, the articulation of a substitute ethical condition to the
sacrificial horizon of history is really an exception that is already contained within the dual machine
of modern historical development that hampers singularization from community and as well as
from the negative structure of the political. That is why it remains puzzling why Soto Carrasco
states at the very end of the book that Zambrano’s thinking is also a “political philosophy” that is
tied to history (Soto Carrasco 134). If Zambrano’s poem produces a reification of political
philosophy, then there is no question that the ius imperi is still haunting a counterhegemonic
practice even when it wants to speak in the music of democracy. No political philosophy can open
a path for infrapolitics, and no infrapolitics can amount to the closure of a political philosophy.
But then again, much could be said about ethics and Zambrano, but also about the ethical traction
in contemporary thinking today as politics enters an irreversible crisis for conceptual renovation. In
his recent book Karman (2018), Giorgio Agamben interestingly makes the claim that Alain
Badiou’s recourse to the “event” amounts to a substitution for the general crisis of modern Kantian
ethics, upholding an ethical determination while repeating the antinomies of being and acting
proper to the fractured political foundation [4]. I suspect that the same duality can be registered
about ethics and politics, or the poem and the logos. There seems to be no other pressing problem
today in contemporary thought than to move, for once and for all, beyond the ethico-political axis
without any reservations to messianic and poetological substitutes. What is at stake, as Soto
Carrasco reminds us, is an originary sense of being. But this would require us to move beyond the
mercies of lovable life and the reassurances and prospects of a glorious subject too comfortable in
the pieties and mercies that cloak modern ethics. The astuteness and intensity of Soto Carrasco’s
brief essay on Zambrano’s thinking asserts the need for us today to push beyond the community
and the political into a region that draws out an infrapolitical fissure unbinding the temporalities of
singularization in the outlook of a politics that never coincides with life.
Notes
1. Roberto Esposito has juxtaposed two different ontologies of the political by contrasting
Arendt and Weil’s projects in relation to imperial and totalitarian politics. See The Origin of
the Political: Hannah Arendt or Simone Weil? (Trans. Gareth Williams, 2017).
2. See Alberto Moreiras, “Last God: María Zambrano’s Life without Texture”. A Leftist Ontology:
Beyond Relativism and Identity Politics (2009). 170-184.
3. For a dual critique of the modern Hegelian philosophy of history and its messianic reversal,
see Writing of the Formless: Jose Lezama Lima and the End of Time (2016), by Jaime
Rodriguez Matos.
4. See Giorgio Agamben, Karman: A Brief Treatise on Action, Guilt, and Gesture (2018). 42.
Posted in infrapolitics, messianism, politics | Tagged Community, ethical turn, ius imperi,
poetical reason, Soto Carrasco, Zambrano | Leave a reply
Beyond rigorisms: notes on Martin

Heidegger’s “What is Metaphysics?”
(1929). By Gerardo Muñoz.
Posted on February 19, 2018 by Gerardo.Muñoz
A preliminary note: it is important to have in mind that Heidegger understood metaphysics as onto-
theology. This means that metaphysics was not anevent among others in history, but rather the
event that allows the dispensation of the history of the forgetting of being as such. This is why it is
always insufficient to take up the mission of founding an “alternative metaphysics” or an
immanentization of the metaphysical horizon, which is, at the end of the day, the high price that
Averroism has to pay for reenacting absolute aristotelianism against Christian dogmatics. Already
in the opening line of “What is Metaphysics?” (1929), (“The question awakens expectations of a
discussion about metaphysics…” 82), we encounter the gesture of awakening from the
sleepwalking that is the essence of metaphysics as constituted by figures of the supreme (those
“idols” that Gareth Williams already brought up to our attention in his commentary) on the one
hand; and by the logic reconstruction of identity and difference of historical time on the other.
The engagement against all metaphysical rigorisms must open to a region of factical existence
that clears a distinctive path that does not coincide with the demand for “exactness” in the wake of
modern scientific development and the legitimacy of the ‘spiritualization of technology’. This
spiritualization grounds the objectivity of scientific knowledge as its self-legitimation: “Today the
only technological organization of universities and faculties consolidates this multiplicity of
dispersed disciplines; the practice establishment of goals by each discipline provides the only
meaning source of unity. Nonetheless, the rootedness of the science in their essential ground has
atrophied” (82-83). Thus, the question of Da-Sein must necessarily move away, in a counter-
universitarian fold, from the demand of exactness of mathematics and the rigorisms of inquiry that
is only capable of establishing grounds. The techno-universitarian machination vis-à-vis exactness
and rigor ascertains legitimacy through being understood as unveiled will-to-power and reserve for
transformation, production, and distribution-organization.
But how? Of course, Heidegger not once speaks of legitimacy in this essay, and I would leave it
open to whether the ontological difference and existence is a path that could be thought as an
otherwise point of entry into the inquiry for legitimacy in the modern age. (A long parenthesis: this
question seems pertinent, in my view, in order to bypass the recurring indictment of
Heideggerianism as a “mystical step back” to the antiquity of the Greeks, to the inhumane
hypsipolis apolis of the city, or turn to dichtung as the stamp of the German genialismus destroyer
of the Enlightenment. I would bracket this question here for future investigation. I must clarify,
however, that I pose this question not in the order of intellectual history, but as someone interested
in the problem of the genesis of modernity. Also at stake here is the crucial debate with Ernst
Jünger regarding the “crossing over the line” as the condition of nihilism, as well the unexplored
relation between Lacan’s psychoanalysis, anthropological deficiency, and the ontological
difference). In “What is Metaphysics”, Heidegger suggests that any real confrontation must be
done through the nothing. The question of nothing for science and the techno-spiritual
constellation is “an outrage and a phantasm”, a sort of suppository for transparent rationality (84).
Indeed, Heidegger writes: “Science wants to know nothing about the nothing.” (84). But the
nothing is never sutured, and that is why it takes a spectral figure; it returns whenever science fails
to bring to unity of its own ground.
The question regarding nothing must be cleared from the logic operation of ‘negation’, which for
Heidegger is “a doctrine of logic and a specific act of the intellect” (85). Here, Heidegger not only
wants to break away from all forms of the Hegelo-Marxist dialectical philosophy of history, but with
a deeper anthropological assumption that resides in the insistence of the condition of anticipation
(86). (Note for future elaboration: a central kernel of philosophical anthropology – from Helmuth
Plessner to Arnold Gehlen, from Hans Blumenberg to Odo Marquard – has been the story of
finding ways to institute conditions of anticipation to discharge the absolutism of phenomena and
organizing symbolic reality through compensatory and manageable partitions of spheres and
actions). But I agree with Gareth Williams that what is at stake in the non-grasping of the question
of the nothing is sustaining thinking as nihiliation to an “unconcealed strangeness” that opens up
the condition of finitude. Originary attunement is what “makes manifest the nothing” (88), for
Heidegger, the possibility of the closest proximity and near true distance. The unwelt of attunement
(which never constitutes the idealism of a weltanschauung) is said to be found in boredom or
anxiety that rips a hole in language, since “anxiety robs us of speech” (89). Boredom puts us in
relation to the animal.
Now, this ur-stimmung knows no hypokeimenon (the pure “that is” of the subject, what subjects the
pre-supposition), and that is why it is an instance where the “nothing is manifest” as the clearing of
being as a sort of black sun in the open of nothing. “Nihiliation will not submit to calculation in
terms of annihilation and negation. The nothing itself nihiliates” (90). This original attunement is
what allows for freedom completely disintegrate “logic itself in the turbulence of a more originary
questioning” (92). The digression on freedom is important. That is, the freedom that is evoked here
is necessarily detached from the freedom of the subject of dialectical thought, the two conceptions
of freedom in classical Liberalism (positive and negative), and freedom understood as a conatus of
experience engrained in the subjective fabric of affects and habits in the tradition of immanence
and philosophies of vitalism, etc. Let’s bracket it in a schematic form: freedom against liberty
(liberalism):: attunement against affect (life). A question at this point: is the emergence of the
freedom in this early text as a vortex of the attunement of anxiety and boredom, later displaced in
Heidegger’s insistence on the Galassenheit as the fundamental mood of a suspended topology?
Or is the Galassenheit an adjoined mood as the attunement with the nothing? The question of
freedom emerges again at the end in an important passage:
“We are so finite that we cannot even bring ourselves originally before the nothing through our own
decision and will. So abyssally does the process of finitude entrench itself in Dasein that our most
proper and deepest finitude refuses to yield to our freedom” (93).
The question of freedom as posited here runs all absolute rigorisms amok, whether ethical or
political, which ultimately makes their propositions fall within the regime of the “legitimacy of the
dominion of “logic” in metaphysics” (95). I would like to call the freedom that opens up in this
region where philosophizing takes place infrapolitical freedom. But philosophy here is trans-
formed; this is thought. The dismissal of the nothing “with a lordly wave of the hand” as science
does, or through an accumulation of facts as it is done in historiography, cannot guarantee
freedom in the originary sense that is housed in existence.
As Heidegger says at the very end: “no amount of scientific rigor attends to the seriousness of
metaphysics. Philosophy can never be measured by the standard of the idea of science” (96). Not
fully abandoning Husserl (or at least that is my wager here, briefly crossing to a late essay on the
question of “Earth” beyond science), the philosozing occurs in the measureless earth, an earth that
does not move, and beyond any conception as a ready-made idea of measurement. The moment
that philosophy raises the question of our existence, it embarks in a decisive removal of all
rigorisms of truth (be it ethical, logical, political, anthropological, or historical –hegemonikai or
guiding faculties) as well as the absolute trepidations of the negative. Only when positing being at
the proximity of the fissured ark, there is the possibility of a bringing the questioning of the nothing.
It is here where all rigorisms collapse and good theories end.
Bibliography
Edmund Husserl. “Foundational Investigations of the Phenomenological Origin of the Spatiality of

Nature: The Original Ark, the Earth, does not move”. Shorter Works (University of Notre Dame,
1981). 222-233.
Gareth Williams. “First Take on “What is Metaphysics” by Martin Heidegger”.

https://infrapolitica.com/2018/02/18/first-take-on-what-is-metaphysics-by-martin-heidegger-by-
gareth-williams/
Martin Heidegger. “What is Metaphysics” (1929), Pathmarks (University of Cambridge Press,

1998). 82-97
Posted in Heidegger, infrapolitics | Tagged Freedom, Husserl, metaphysics, Philosophical

Anthropology | Leave a reply
Stories or fiction? A footnote to

Derrida’s The Question of Being and
History. By Gerardo Muñoz.
Posted on September 26, 2017 by Gerardo.Muñoz
Arguably, one of central problems in Heidegger: The Question of Being and History (2016) is the
radical destruction of storytelling proper to onto-theological history. For instance, if we are to take
the question of historicity seriously, Giorgio Agamben’s recent efforts on a ‘modal ontology’
provides yet another form of storytelling principled on henological absolutism. A similar gesture
appears in Reiner Schürmann’s late work on the possibility of an outside of metaphysics vis-à-vis
Plotinus’s hypostases of a “One” prior to all differences and intellect [1]. Although Schürmann
points to Derrida’s suggestions on Neo-Platonism as an exception to onto-theology, one should
bare in mind that any effective destruction of storytelling would also bring to ruin the henological
difference under the critique of the trace. This is the crucial passage delivered very early in the
seminar:
“The writing that tells stories is easy, narration is easy and philosophy, in spite of appearances, has
never deprived itself of it. The point is to break with the philosophical novel, and to break with it
radically and not so as to give rise to some new novel. The philosophical novel, philosophical
narration, is of course, but is not only, the history of philosophy as doxography that recounts,
reports, gathers and lays out the series of philosophical systems. “Telling stories,” in philosophy, is
for Heidegger something much more profound and that cannot be so easily denounced as
doxography. The Novelesque from which we must awaken is philosophy itself as metaphysics and
as onto-theology“. [2]
As it becomes usual throughout the seminar, telling stories is not just an intellectual operation of
the history of philosophy and the philosophy of history. The gesture of going beyond storytelling
entails an affirmation of the ontological difference. This leap is not to be understood as a way of
entry into a higher kingdom of speculation. Rather, it implies an invitation to radically confront
history without exceptions or absolutes. In a way, this is the opposite end of philosophical
anthropology’s task, which for Blumenberg amounts to a nonconceptual metaphorics capable of
man’s self-affirmation against the absolutism of reality.
But I wonder if one could make the case that the deconstructive operation already in the 1964
seminar vis-à-vis the destruction of storytelling opens to a new conception of fiction. It is telling that
‘fiction’ as such is never brought in the seminar. This displacement, however complex and
aporetic, should point to a minimal difference between Heideggerian destruction and Derridean
deconstruction when it comes to dismantling every effective onto-theological operation. Should
one, then, distinguish between storytelling and fiction? For one, if storytelling belongs the realm of
the sleepwalking of philosophy and ontology, then it would be productive to think whether the shift
after destruction takes place between thinking and fiction. I am still unable to grasp (if it is indeed
possible and consistent) if fiction could effectively be understood as an excess of storytelling. It is
not a question of form or even truth. Should fiction point to the distance between politics and
infrapolitics in thought? Could we say that infrapolitics is the dissemination of singular fictions
announced after the destruction of onto-theological storytelling? Fiction: a non-metaphorical
essence over existence after the end of metaphoric translation.
A negation of fiction puts us in a position of anomy. Here the fiction of law is a productive site for
thought, because it is a discipline in which we find that fiction (fictio) is an operation that organizes
and brings about a nebulous domain. According to Yan Thomas, who is arguably the central
scholar on the fictive nature of Roman law: “The fictio is, from the point of view of Western history,
without precedent. It only arrives as an operation of law to fix and keep within its boundaries the
limits of reality, and the possible distances that it could trace with the fictive Nature” [3]. Roman
law’s artificiality is a second-degree fiction that can no longer represent the state of things, but only
the ‘as if’ of every probable manifestation. Fiction is always double, aware and checking its own
artificiality. Agamben has appropriated Yan Thomas’ hermeneutical notion of ‘operations of law’ in
an opportunity to ‘render inoperative’ the ‘politico-theological machine’ of Western governance. But
this non-contained negation of principles speaks to Agamben’s anarchy, which differs from
Derrida’s democracy to come. Later on in his life Derrida will establish a coterminous relation
between fiction and justice as hyperbolic conditions of democracy.
I think an important moment appears in Rogues, where Derrida endorses a notion of democracy in
possession of an “essential historicity” [sic] well beyond the subject and natural rights. Derrida also
seems to be grappling with an evolving and transformative notion of democracy that cannot be
subsumed either as vulgar historical as principle (arche) nor as reversed impolitical an-archy. One
cannot evade history, but can one evade the fiction of democracy?
Back to the seminar. At the very end of the last session, Derrida reasserts that “it is not a matter of
substituting one metaphor for another, which is the very movement of language and history, but of
thinking this movement as such, thinking metaphor in metaphorizing as such, thinking the essence
of metaphor (this is all Heidegger wants to do). There is thinking every time that this gesture
occurs, in what is called science, poetry, metaphysics, and so on.” (Derrida 190).
So fiction cannot amount to a mere substitution for storytelling. Fiction should name the process of
uncontained de-metaphorization within an evolving economy of democracy that has no political
arche. The end of philosophical storytelling will open to a contamination of the turbulence of fiction
by which the legal operation is always insufficient, but never deposed. The shift from the absolutist
negation of the Roman fictio (the political as roman ratio according to the Parmenides lecture) to
democracy as an essential historicity, retreats politics in the shadow of fiction. Couldn’t we say,
assuming all the risks involved, that infrapolitics is also a reflection on the nature of fiction as a
condition for democratic reinvention?
Notes
1. Reiner Schürmann. “The One: Substance or Function”. Neoplatonism and Nature (ed.
Michael F. Wagner). State University of New York Press, 2002.
2. Jacques Derrida. Heidegger: The Question of Being and History. University of Chicago
Press, 2016.
3. Yan Thomas. “Fictio legis. L’empire de la fiction romaine et ses limites médiévales”, Droits,
no 21, 1995.
Posted in infrapolitics, politics, Posthegemony | Leave a reply
Is There an Infrapolitical Dignity

Worthy of the Name? By
Gareth Williams.
Posted on March 27, 2017 by Gerardo.Muñoz
Geoffrey Bennington, Scatter 1: The Politics of Politics in Foucault, Heidegger and Derrida. New
York: Fordham University Press, 2016.
My presentation is framed as a question, but is simply an attempt to think alongside scatter, with
no definitive response to the question itself. I would like to begin by expressing my gratitude to
Alberto Moreiras for this gathering, and my admiration to Geoffrey Bennington for Scatter 1, which,
via the “politics of politics” in Foucault, Heidegger and Derrida, posits a thinking not of the political
per se, but of a certain autoimmune distance from the political, which is, of course, a distance from
politics understood as the dialectical orientation and administration of force. Bennington proposes
a dismantling of the hermeneutics of the political, and, as such, a deconstruction of the originary
polemos/polis relation. He does this in such a way as to unveil—that is, to loosen and scatter—just
some of the originary concealments that lie at the heart of the political. Bennington presents us
with what one might call, perhaps a little inappropriately, a form of anticipatory resoluteness that is
extended, however, not in the name of power over Dasein’s existence, as in Heidegger’s not so
surreptitious decision, but in the name of autoimmunity. This movement uncovers a “modest falling
short of the transcendental”; the potentiality of a turn toward a thinking of autoimmunity that traces
the contours of a thinking without mastery; an opening to a certain environmentality within thinking
that remains at a significant remove from the dialectic of reason and the certainties of political
consciousness that animate every teleology.
We could understand Scatter1, therefore, as a protocol of reading that highlights, and animates, a
certain trembling at the heart of the political; a trembling that is covered over, concealed, and
systematically rendered oblivious in the name of teleology. Bennington’s is a protocol that is
extended with a view to dispersing all fugitive Self-Other concealments. This is obviously not the
work of a card carrying Heideggerian, however. Quite the contrary, the author proposes the
detours of scatter in such a way as to open up a task for thinking that does not regurgitate
Heidegger’s troublesome metaphorics of proximity and gathering; a metaphorics that Derrida in
May ‘68 (“The Ends of Man”), but also in his lectures from a few years before On the Question of
Being and History, had already outlined as a thinking of “simple and immediate presence, a
metaphorics associating the proximity of Being with the values of neighboring, shelter, house,
service, guard, voice and listening” (“Ends, 130). As Derrida highlights in reference to
Heideggerian metaphorics, this is “not an insignificant rhetoric” (130).
With this in mind, Scatter 1 takes aim at the underlying problems of the “moment of vision”
(Augenblikt), which Heidegger developed with a view to anchoring and holding together the factical
and the transcendental, the existential and the existentiell; the gathering together of all
thrownness, dispersal and ek-sistence. In contrast to Heidegger’s moment of vision, Bennington
invites us to approach the politics of politics in the absence of such a problematic metaphorics, in
the process raising the question of metaphoricity in general, and along with it the very
conceivability of plurality, coexistence and simultaneity.
Echoing Derrida’s “differance”, Scatter 1 offers its readers the tomb of the proper, the death of the
tyranny contained in Heidegger’s metaphysics of gathering and proximity (Derrdia, 1972, 4). As
such, the politics of politics unveils an economy of death that lies at the heart of the metaphorics of
the familial and the proper. Rather than positing presence, scatter loosens, breaches and breaks
open in a movement toward the politics of politics; politics in its autoimmune self-difference, or
alter. The politics of politics marks not the sign politics, but the sign of the sign, and therefore the
opening to the unveiling trace of the erasure of the trace itself. As a result, Scatter is the
movement of an autoimmune destitution of political presence that moves in the name of an
economy without reserve, always preceding and differentiating itself from the political.
In these movements the politics of politics governs nothing. If it is anything, scatter is the name for
that which “lingers in the expanse of unconcealment” (Derrida,”Ousia and gramme), and, as such,
in the expanse of the trace of the erasure of the trace. Scatter is a thought of lingering and of
falling short. Making the unveiling of oblivion the issue not of politics, but of the politics of politics,
scatter suspends teleology from the start, in the name of always, humbly, and necessarily, falling
short of gathering. As such, it remains at all times without a kingdom and without an epoch; as
Derrida observes in reference to differance, which remains at all times the underlying movement of
scatter, it is an “affirmation foreign to all dialectics” (27). As a result, there is no philosophy of bios
and zoe available to us here; there is no affirmative biopolitics in scatter. Rather, it is thinking in the
name of blind tactics, empirical wandering (Derrida, 7), and the circumventing of the willful politics
of the decision, of any specific political consciousness, and of the operation or action of a subject
on an object. In scatter sovereignty is nothing and the only democracy worthy of the name would
be an-archic.
This is, of course, a fundamental project for our times, understanding our times as our atrocious,
forced familiarity with a seismic shift in the coordination of teleology and eschatology that we have
come to call globalization. Half a century ago, in “The Ends of Man”, Derrida first approached the
question of dignity and democracy, highlighting the following limit: “What is difficult to think today is
an end of man which would not be organized by a dialectics of truth and negativity, an end of man
which would not be a teleology in the first person plural” (121). Fifty years later our phrasing would
have to be slightly different, since that limit evoked by Derrida has been displaced by the
globalizaton of techne and the determination of humanity as standing reserve. In these dire
circumstances, we might now have to say that what is difficult to think is an end of man that could
possibly be organized by a dialectics of truth and negativity, an end of man that could possibly be a
teleology in the first person plural, other than that which leads to the eschaton of complete nomic
collapse, of course.
It is in this context that Bennington returns to Derrida’s approach to, and distancing from, the
Kantian stipulation that a dignity “worthy of the name” be returned to politics, in such a way that a
new politics—a repoliticization, another concept of the political—be forged in which rational beings
are treated always as an end, “and not merely as a means to be arbitrarily used by this or that will”
(Kant, Foundations of the Metaphysics of Morals). What is ultimately at stake (and this is inevitable
in this proposition) is the aporia of a political re-instrumentalization of man as an end in itself,
rather than as a value, even though dignitas is only ever an expression of value—of a certain
auctoritas—and, as such, the expression of a certain property of the State. The question of force
still, and perhaps only ever, haunts this attempt to make room for, and to distance oneself from,
dignity in the politics, property and titles of the State.
Bennington asks: “Is it possible to think of a dignity that is not bound up in (and, one might be
temped to say, compromised by) the teleological structures of the Kantian Idea?” It is this question
that leads to the question of the structure of (in)dignity—the constitutive indignity—that upholds
“the supposed dignity of [all] metaphysical concepts”. From an infrapolitical, rather than from a
classical political perspective, what is at stake here is how to try to make room not for dignity in
real politics, and therefore in the administration of force (auctoritas), but to let the dignity of a
remove from the metaphysics of force (that is, a constitutive indignity) be involved in existence.
With this question of constitutive indignity in mind, we are left to wonder if there is an infrapolitical
inflection—an inflection that is without doubt akin at all times to the protocols of deconstruction, but
that is not necessarily bound by the protocols of deconstruction—; I repeat, is there an infrapolitical
inflection available to us that might allow us to reckon with the distance from auctoritas, from the
property titles of the State or the dignity of metaphysics, from a site other than that of the Kantian
inheritance that Derrida reckons with from “The Ends of Man” (1968) all the way through to the end
itself in 2004?
At this point I will merely offer an example, and that, precisely, is the weakness of everything that
follows (though in Specters of Marx Derrida notes that “an example always carries beyond itself; it
opens up a testamentary dimension” (41). I wonder, then, whether in the example there lies the
problem and possibility of an infrapolitical inflection that turns away from the political, and turns in
the direction of allowing that the dignity of a remove from force be involved not in politics, but in
existence.
Of all people, it is Cicero the elderly statesman who might exemplify such an inflection. In a brief
essay published in 1960, the Oxford classicist J.P.V.D. Balsdon recounts Cicero’s return from exile
and ultimate political capitulation in 56BC, when, in the face of “the prolonged triumph of
gangsterdom which followed his exile” (49), Cicero found himself obliged to turn his back on the
dignity and prestige of a public life. He had become an ineffective pariah in the motley world of
populist resentment. What is at stake in Balsdon’s treatment of this moment in the history of the
Republic are the slight shifts in Cicero’s uses of the terms dignitas and otium, together, at this
particular time of capitulation and relinquishment.
In general, the term otium referred to the private or retired, as opposed to active public, life.
However, in public life otium could also refer to peace and freedom from disturbance, or relief after
war and internal disorder (47). It referred to a form of serenity or harmony in the wake of war. Upon
Cicero’s political capitulation, Balsdon says, “the opening remark of the De Oratore, [signaling
pseudos] which was finished in 55, introduces the new conception ‘cum dignitate otium’. ‘Otium’ is
now retirement, the condition of the elder statesman who turns his back on the political. His active
political life, his consulships and proconsulships are at an end (49). “Battling through the stormy
seas of popular agitation”, observes Balsdon, Cicero had to “make for a different harbor . . . ‘cum
dignitate otium’” (50). For the classicist Balsdon this is a harbor of studious relief from disturbance,
freedom from agitation, and relief after war and internal disorder, for “persistence in opposition
which was doomed to ineffectiveness would not, for the Roman world at large, promote “cum
dignitate otium’” (50).
Learning to turn one’s back on the political in order to exist “cum dignitate otium”, learning to be
without or in the absence of the dignitas of auctoritas, and, as a result, detouring back toward the
constitutive indignity of the pre-political, and doing so while understanding at all times the
agitations of the world of force, Cicero would have confronted and suffered the weight of a dignity
uprooted from all titles of community. This would have been a dignity without dwelling in political
life, and therefore not entirely worthy of its name, since at the same time it would have been a
return to a constitutive indignity that was destined to always fall short of the political metaphysics
of gathering, of majesty, or of any harbor.
Surely Cicero would have lived it as a “sad or sober pragmatic renunciation of some fuller version
of dignity”, as Bennington puts it at the end of Scatter. But perhaps one could speculate that it is
here—“cum dignitate otium”, in the infrapolitical turn back to a constitutive indignity that is exposed
to real and symbolic death itself—that one could learn to exist, think, and write in an infrapolitical
rather than a political fashion. It is there that one might have to learn to live with the without, in
such a way as to exist not in the name of dignity or of a future politics or communal title anchored
by the sublime or the general structure of “going beyond”, but in the name of a without that
nevertheless lets the dignity of the remove from the public world of force be involved in existence.
Perhaps it is cum dignitate otium’s passive movement of allowing to be involved in existence—of a
care for that which comes at a remove from the biopolitical orientation and administration of force
—that forges the possibility not of a new democratic form, of a re-democratization built liberally on
the logics of inclusion and exclusion, but of an infrapolitical scatter of mastery and title that casts
freedom from among the ashes.
Posted in history, infrapolitics, politics, Uncategorized | Tagged Bennington, Cicero,

democracy, dignity, posthegemony | Leave a reply
A partir de Marranismo e
inscripción…, de Alberto Moreiras,
Madrid: Escolar y Mayo, 2016. Por
Juan Carlos Quintero Herencia.
Posted on March 20, 2017 by Juan Carlos Quintero Herencia
La toma del tiempo
“¿Te gustó el libro, te parece que funciona?” me preguntas. Cuando contesto que sí, que me
gustó, siento que la afirmativa es, de inmediato, la tachadura de toda la incomodidad e intensidad
asociadas a los libros que he disfrutado. Y éste, como otros que me han gustado, me tomó
tiempo. Los que me gustan, me toman tiempo, necesito acompañarlos —por razones que no sé ni
quiero explicar— con otras lecturas, con otros textos. Por eso me tardo. Hace tiempo, mucho
antes que se pusiera de moda la lentitud académica o universitaria, que abracé las consecuencias
y la singularidad de mi “tardarme”. No hay nada que hacer. Además, evité leer las reseñas hasta
haber terminado de leer el libro. No quiero que me dañen la película, ni me predispongan, ni me lo
cuenten en ninguna dirección.
Ya que se trata de un libro eminentemente autográfico, me gustaría acompañar tu gesto en

Marranismo e inscripción con las condiciones, algo del contexto desde donde te vengo leyendo
hace un tiempo. Consignar aquí todo el ruido que tengo que poner al lado para poder leer(te).
No creo que nos hayamos dado las manos. No recuerdo un estrechón de manos. Es probable que
hayamos coincidido en los pasillos de alguna conferencia profesional y recuerdo algunas fotos
colgadas en un panel en el último LASA en Washington, DC. Tu nombre fue primero una cita, una
referencia, un pasaje —de hecho recuerdo el uso de The Exhaustion of Difference (2001) en el
libro de Juan Duchesne Winter, Fugas incomunistas (2005)— luego devendría parte de esa suerte
de epicentro polémico, de chismes e incesantes rumoreos académicos. Esta última situación, de
hecho, se convirtió en un escena que precisamente estorbaba o neutralizaba cualquier lectura o
comentario mío sobre tus textos. Cuando en medio de alguna conversación con amigos —
intelectuales, escritores o universitarios— mencionaba alguno de tus textos, en demasiadas
ocasiones, se instalaban rostros, “peros” y muecas. La plantilla de adjetivos, juicios (morales),
calificativos o descalificaciones que de inmediato procedían, tenían el efecto (en mi) de abrir ese
estúpido “disclaimer” que no me interesaba mediar, que quién carajos va a saber lo que sucedió,
que no sé lo que en verdad allí pasó, ni me interesaba, etc., etc. Este gesto mío tampoco ayudaba
a mantener la continuidad de la conversación, pues pocos o casi ninguno parecían haberte leído o
querían hacerlo. Para muchos, a pesar o quizás debido a su filiación o endeudamiento
disciplinario, decir cosas como “ese tipo es un_____________” o “esa tipa es una
_____________” es parte de una carga y descarga afectiva y moral que acompaña y firma su
labor crítica, aunque dejen esto para el cotilleo y el aparte entre panas. Quería y quiero hablar de
otras cosas que no pasan por ahí. ¿De qué estamos hablando, de los textos, de la labor de
pensamiento que allí se despliega o de la “estatura moral de las personas envueltas”, de cuán
humildes, simpáticos o arrogantes son? No creo que en estos asuntos existan víctimas y
victimarios absolutos, impolutos. Ni me importa. En fin.
Creo que el “affaire en Z” o el ground zero que estalló con el “subalternismo” y “post-
subalternismo” tiene los visos de un concurso de popularidad, de torneo político-institucional ante
los administradores y ganaron los más astutos, los mercadeables, quizás “los más agradables”,
los instrumentalizables, los que hablan o hablaron un mejor “Decanish” (la lengua del decanato).
Me consta haber sentido y escuchado la “sospecha”, el pasarle la cuenta, el goce ante el —
entonces— extraño “latinoamericanista”, al “antipático” español que para colmo no visitaba los
santos lugares de la diferencia o la identidad “latinoamericanista”. Nada de lo que aparece entre
comillas ni lo afirmo, ni me interesa desmentirlo, porque nada de esto, repito, me consta, ni me
parece relevante, ni mucho menos ando por ahí buscando versiones o contra-versiones. De la
misma manera, ya se pasea con nuevas vestiduras la “sospecha” y la paranoia ante el deseo
infrapolítico por hablar de la esquemática histórica heiddegeriana de cara a América Latina.
Siempre he dicho que me parecen mucho más retadores e estimulantes los lugares de tu
enunciación y algunos de tus textos que cualquiera de los textos de tus “enemigos”, adversarios o
sus epígonos. Incluso los disfruto más aunque difiera de ellos o cuando todavía no los “entiendo”
del todo. Para mi esta es la marca de un texto que “funciona”. By the way, la discursividad
decolonial se me cae de las manos porque telegrafía, le sirve la mesa a la simplificación y reduce
la diferencia o la complejidad desde la salida. Todo termina cayendo en su sitio y desde la salida
se sabe cómo y qué se va a “concluir”.
Creo que mi distancia y desconocimiento íntimo asociados a los días convulsos en “Z” me ha
permitido escapar tanto de la moralina institucional, del torneo citacional sectario, de la verbosidad
teórica, como del fisiculturismo discursivo o del craso anti-intelectualismo que nuclea, en
ocasiones, el bochinche sobre lo que pasó en “Z” y sus consecuencias. Con lo anterior ni niego, ni
dudo de los dolores y sufrimientos realmente vividos durante esos años, como subestimo la
“realidad” de movidas y maquinaciones que pueden “testimoniar” o negar cualquiera de sus
participantes o testigos. En verdad, Alberto, me aburre el tema. Igual me siento como quien se
asoma a una escena obscenamente íntima y no tiene manera de salir de allí. Esto en particular ni
lo celebro, ni lo agradezco, lo doy por recibido. Sobre el sujeto que escribe Marranismo e
inscripción este relato sobre “Z” parece una herida sin sutura. Espero, sin embargo, que esto sea
lo menos discutido, leído o comentado de Marranisno e inscripción. O que por curiosidad malsana
permita que otros lectores se acerquen al libro. Si se va a convertir en otra re-edición del dime-y-
direte entre los que son y los que no son (algo), paso. Las reseñas que he leído ya enfatizan lo
que me parece importante del libro.
Creo que la mejor funcionalidad de este libro, es esa funcionalidad averiada que tan productiva y
dialogante me parece y que firma lo que me atrevería a subrayar como una singularidad de lo
literario y, borgianamente, de lo teórico. Algunos de los aspectos me parecen contribuciones del
libro son: 1) la inscripción decisiva del daño y regocijo anti-teórico que plaga la academia
contemporánea. Necesitamos asediar la hegemonía de la pulsión anti-intelectual, anti-teórica que
regentea la universidad tal y como la conocemos hoy. Fue toda una sorpresa, más que
estimulante, leer en las páginas dedicadas al episodio en “Z” el espejeo de un momento
efervescente en el campo intelectual puertorriqueño del pasado fin de siglo. Me refiero a las
discusiones y debates, además de las histerizaciones de algunos ante el denostado corpus “post-
moderno” en el Puerto Rico universitario de finales de los 1990’s y comienzo de los 2000’s, 2) la
puesta en discusión de las posibilidades e imposibilidades críticas de la “infrapolítica como una
crítica del giro político” (33) y 3) el abandono de la secundariedad intelectual, del enmarcado
cientista de la labor crítica, en tanto ficción crítica o ficción teórica. La voluntad escritural, literaria
del libro lo coloca serenamente, si se me permite, entre “nuestros extraños libros”
latinoamericanos. Nada de esto merece meramente aplausos, sino discusión y deliberación
amplios.
II
Asociaciones libres y preguntas. Asocio y pregunto recordando las palabras de mi madrina

santera quien me decía, cuando veía venir una pregunta sobre el secreto: lo que se sabe no se
pregunta. También porque aquí, tal vez, expongo, no sé, algunas de mis resistencias o
confusiones ante MI. Uso MI autorizado por el gesto indigerible, indigesto con el que Brett
Levinson presentaba la performance de tu pensamiento en Marranismo e interpretación:
“Marranismo e inscripción, henceforth MI, is both a performance and explanation of its own
undigestibility, which is to say, the undigestibility of Moreiras within Hispanism as well as within, let
us call them, the theoretical humanities.” Recordé que MI es también la abreviatura utilizada por
los productores de la película-franquicia de acción y espionaje Mission Impossible protagonizada
por Tom Cruise. Y más que cualquier extrapolación efectista o el relleno del vacío que desaloja lo
imposible con la proeza visual, me gustaría seguir pensando el carácter imposible de tu crítica al
“latinoamericanismo del yo” y el “llamado de una lengua no metafórica”.
En tu lectura del “latinoamericanismo del yo”, éste parece ser consecuencia de una movida
cartográfica, de haber padecido una “cartografía” donde se te convirtió en personaje capturado
por dicho mapa. Más o mejor que una concepción cartográfica del “yo” ¿podríamos repensar lo
“yoico” desde otras coordenadas? Que al igual que la resistencia a la experiencia psicoanalítica
se manifiesta con ese “psicoanalizarse es lo que siempre necesita el otro”, también pudieramos
evitar la trampa de que “más yoico eres tú” y responsabilizarnos por ese estar implicados hasta el
tuétano en la opción de la primera persona. Creo que MI expone un “yo”, tal vez indigesto pero
también en vías de fuga, abandonándose a otros placeres y por lo mismo, ojalá, camino a otra
interlocución. Ahora bien, más o menos que el diseño o una captura cartográfica lo “yoico” me
parece un privilegiar, un totalizar la presencia y el actuar del “yo”, volverlo escenario y
protagonista indispensable de la labor crítica, la reducción de lo personal o de lo íntimo a la
primera persona. ¿El “no hay un nosotros” que exhibe la infrapolítica sería una marca de su
carácter post-yoico, infrayoico, su posibilidad imposible?
III
La espalda de lo imposible-lo posible del pensar (:) Deconstruir, desmetaforizar, desnarrativizar

¿des-equivalenciar? “Despertar en el pensamiento”
“No sabemos lo que podría ser una vida sin metáforas, pero sabemos o podemos intuir lo que la
metáfora traiciona. Marranismo e inscripción (135)
Me consta, por varias instancias, lecturas e intercambios por Facebook, tu deseo reflexivo por
continuar o asumir la tarea de-constructiva derrideana como un despertar del sueño sonámbulo
del metafísico —a diferencia del, pero relacionado con el sonámbulo poético (sobre el cual dices
poco)— pues el sonámbulo metafísico es quien sueña “sin romper el carácter metafórico de la
lengua” o citando a Derrida despertar como la escucha de la «llamada de una lengua no
metafórica imposible» (278).” Es casi seguro que aquí y ahora pulse mi condición crónica, poética,
o mi inhabilidad para elucidar, o habitar la lucidez del sujeto de la luz (si se me perdona la
redundancia) que ha despertado. Romper la metáfora es producir otra metáfora o al menos
suspenderla por un instante. ¿Qué haría posible políticamente esta lengua-no-metafórica-
imposible? ¿Con qué tipo de oído escuchas ese “llamado”? ¿O escuchas tal vez el llamado desde
una viscosidad literalizante en la que creerías como escritor, como marrano y que nunca deviene
discurso en tanto expondría tu secreto? ¿Por qué no lidiar, des-obrar con ese tacto, con el pálpito
con “lo real” que también recorre lo meta-phorein como escape de lo dicotómico, como
transferencia a otro o cualquier lugar?
Si la metáfora “traiciona”, falta o delinque, sino es leal, ¿cuál es el problema de este “sueño”, cuál
es la naturaleza de su deslealtad y qué o quién decide su “politicidad? A veces me parece —
puedo, sin duda, equivocarme colosalmente— que si “desmetaforizar es deconstruir” bajo el signo
de lo imposible, este des-obrar el trabajo de la metáfora tal vez arrastre una noción muy
específica, quizás muy parcial o limitada de lo metafórico que todavía transporta un binario y sólo
percibe y reconoce espasmódicamente la potencialidad múltiple, abierta de lo metafórico. ¿La
infrapolítica “sospecha” de toda voluntad, más bien de la inevitabilidad-potencialidad metafórica?
¿Insiste alguna voluntad equivalencial, alguna ideologización en el trabajo de la metáfora?
Espero que estas notas (menores) te hayan sacado de las “ascuas”, de allí donde mis salidas o
silencios en el pasado te habían colocado.
Gracias por el libro y en cuanto me lleguen ejemplares de La hoja de mar te paso uno firmado. Un
abrazo.
Juan Carlos Quintero Herencia
20 de marzo de 2017, Silver Spring, Maryland
Posted in infrapolitics, language, literature, politics, Uncategorized, Universidad | Tagged

desmetaforizacion, metáfora | 6 Replies
An explanation for ‘deconstructing

the administrative state’. By
Gerardo Muñoz.
Posted on March 7, 2017 by Gerardo.Muñoz
A few weeks ago at CPAC (Conservative Political Action Conference), when Steve Bannon,
Donald J. Trump’s White House chief strategist, laid out the principle of “the deconstruction of the
administrative state” as one of the immediate objectives of the Trump administration, there
followed a storm of commentaries. For academics in the humanities, it was a perfect setting to
mock ‘deconstruction’, and assert the un-political character of this so called “theoretical trend” in
the academia, easily linking Derrida with Bannon’s strategic plan.
Just to cite one of many examples, French writer Alain Mabanckou twitted: “Steve Bannon, le
mentor de Trump parle de “deconstruction” du povuir de Washington. Deconstrution? Srait-il un
lecteur de Derrida?”. Many more followed on social media and in academic groups. These witty
remarks were, of course, written under the sign of irony, which is certainly a central stimmung of
our time. But irony is also one of the most serious genres to discuss a serious affair, of which I
would like to briefly contemplate. Of course, my intention is not to defend Derrida, or even worse,
to prove that Bannon has not read Derrida. I am sure that Bannon has not read Derrida, and even
if he has heard of him, or someone told him a few things about deconstruction as a critical strategy
of contemporary thought, this is irrelevant.
Bannon’s usage of deconstruction of the administrative state is correct, although in another sense.
For one thing, deconstructing the administrate state is a technical term used in sociology and
political science analysis as it relates to the fiscal state. In his new book Democracy against
Domination (2017), Sebeel Rahman discusses the deconstructive force of computative fiscal logic
over institutional structures and governmental regulatory bureaucracy [1]. In a good portion of the
literature, whenever the notion of deconstruction of the administrative state is used, it refers
directly to the dismantling of the fiscal regulatory apparatus (see Norris 2000). Whereas it might, at
first sight, seem that Bannon is misinformed or just downright clownish, he is deeply versed in the
specific discipline that he wants to target; mainly, political science of the welfare state as it has
been discussed from the New Deal onwards.
One could press this point even further: the idea that Bannon wants to ‘deconstruct the
administrative state’ does not merely amount to ‘more neoliberalism’ as cultural critics seem to
reduce the problem. This is part of the truth, but not the whole truth. The attempt to attack the
administrative state entails a serious assault on the rule of law, since as the most intelligent
constitutionalists have recently noted, the administrative state is today the legal structure that has
supplanted legitimacy over the deficit of presidentialism of the executive branch. Adrian Vermuele
(2016) makes it clear that the administrative state is the law’s greatest triumph after the weakening
of the separation of powers. This ultimately entails, that perhaps Bannon is well aware that it is not
enough to destroy a democratic society from the standpoint of a sovereign executive, since it must
be done from the very place where the rule of law resides, and this is where the administrative
state plays a fundamental role. Bannon’s deconstructive gesture goes to the heart of the rule of
law, which we have already started seeing as a check mechanism to Trump’s rampant executive
unilateralism. Hence, the rumor that says that Bannon is a Leninst should be taken very seriously:
Leninism seeks the destruction of the state and rule of law in order to create a dictatorship of the
proletariat, which is Bannon’s civilizational response to globalization [2]. Bannon is a full-fleshed
anti-institutionalist who admires not only Lenin, but also the decade of the thirties that he has
called “exciting”.
At this point, it is perhaps almost unnecessary to say that Derrida’s deconstruction has little do with
Bannon’s loaded attack on institutions of the welfare state. However, what is important is to note
that Bannon’s articulation of deconstruction is inequivalent to Derrida, and a comparison becomes
only possible if one subscribes to a transparent conceptual reservoir of the linguistic turn in order
to abuse it. Thus, whenever a linguistic component is emphasized as hyperbolic of intellectual
thought, the latter is suspended to favor an easy advantage in tandem with anti-politics.
Derrida emphasized that deconstruction was a condition of democracy, and that democracy could
not take place without deconstruction. Democracy is really not a political concept in Derrida’s
thought. It is not reducible to a tradition of “intellectual history”, and not even to the primal
causation of life as predicated in the political. Such was, for Derrida, the exemplary nature of
Mandela [3]. But to the extent that it solicits unconditional hospitality, it alters the alterity of the
singular that is never reducible to political finality. This coming of friendship or non-enmity is
another way of thinking through an infrapolitical existence. It is this demotic existence beyond the
political what Bannon wants to destroy and obstruct in a move that is both fully ultra-political and
non-political.
Notes
1. K. Sebeel Rahman. Democracy against Domination. Manhattan: Oxford University Press,

2016.
2. “Steve Bannon, Trump’s top guy, told me he was ‘A Leninst’ who wants to ‘destroy the State’.
http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2016/08/22/steve-bannon-trump-s-top-guy-told-me-he-
was-a-leninist.html
3. Jacques Derrida. The Politics of Friendship. London: Verso, 2005. P.102-106. “Admiration of
Nelson Mandela, or The Laws of Reflection”, Law & Literature, Vol.26, 2014.
Posted in infrapolitics, Uncategorized | Tagged deconstruction, democracy, Derrida,

Leninism, rule of law | 1 Reply
Infrareligion in the abyss: on Jaime

Rodriguez Matos’ Writing of the
Formless: José Lezama Lima and the
End of Time. By Gerardo Muñoz.
Posted on February 24, 2017 by Gerardo.Muñoz
Jaime Rodriguez Matos’ Writing of the Formless: José Lezama Lima and the End of Time
(Fordham U Press, 2016) is an ambitious and truly mesmerizing mediation on the Cuban poet
José Lezama Lima in light of contemporary theoretical debates concerning the status of the
political in the wake of Modernity’s decline into nihilism. Rodriguez Matos’ sophisticated
intervention attempts to accomplish several objectives at once, and in this sense, the book does
not pretend to be an exegetical or philological contribution to scholarly debates on the poet.
Rather, in the book, Lezama is taken as a poet-thinker of the informe, whose main import into
Western history of writing and thought is that of a ‘writing of the formless’ (Rodriguez Matos 171).
In its totality, the whole book is a groundwork for such a claim, and it works through a series of
tropologies, figures, and debates that extend from Lezama’s specific cultural Cuban context and its
readers, to a set of wider debates pertinent to Left-Heideggerianism, political theology, or the event
(although by no means, is the complex set of debates reducible to these three philosophical
indexes).
If one were to describe the project in its most far-reaching ends, Writing of the Formless is
important yet for another reason: by handling several topologies of Lezama Lima’s oeuvre, we are
offered an in-depth analysis of the intricate conceptual wager in infrapolitics, or in infrapolitical-
deconstruction, which as Rodriguez Matos suggests, is the provenance of Lezama Lima’s
contribution as a critical task. The book is divided in two parts. In the first one, four chapters grid
an explication of the problem of time, as well as that of the formless, revolution, and nihilism. In the
second, Rodriguez Matos engages in an innovative reading of different zones in Lezama Lima that
evidence the destruction of principial politics, and the opening towards an (infra)politics of the void.
In this review, I can hardly do justice to a book that I truly consider a masterwork of contemporary
thought. In my opinion, this monograph comes as close as it gets to being flawless in establishing
conceptual premises and argumentative deployment. In what follows I will map some provocative
elements of his exposition, in hope that it will be a starting point for a discussion with those
critically engaging Latin America, the political, and the stakes of thought in our time.
The point of departure of Writing of the Formless is the temporal question (in Latin America,
although it is not localized here as a site of privilege) of Modernity, which is registered as a Janus
face machine: on one end, the linear time of Hegel’s philosophy of history; and on the other, the
teleological time of the messianic redemption and reservoir to many salvific political theologies.
Early in the book, Rodriguez Matos sets up to establish the conditions that guide the development
of his task:
“But it now it seems that in fact modernity, and not any possible redemption or liberation from its
political and economic deadlocks, is itself a mixed temporality that is constantly battling between a
circular and a linear time – a linear time of alienation and a circulation teleological time of
redemption. The two need to be taken together, even in the very (im)possibility of such a
synthesis. And this would mean that modernity is no longer the other of the revolutionary
interruption of empty chronological time; rather, these are two sides of a single coin” (Rodriguez
Matos 33).
By way of this dual apparatus of time, it becomes clear that linear time represents the time of
alienation, where the eternal return marks its radical detachment only to become the engine of the
theological messianic interruption. The two temporalities that frame Modernity, according to
Rodriguez Matos, are a policing force, as well as “a residual effect or the symptom of the
emergence of order itself” (Rodriguez Matos 22). And it is this formal legislation that synthesizes a
duality that veil, in a variety of effective techniques, the formless of any foundation. Throughout the
book the formless has different dispositions, such as the “intemporal”, “time of the absence of
time”, or Lezama’s own “muerte del tiempo”. These all play key strategic functions and
deconstructive relays. It might be the case, at least implicitly, that Rodriguez Matos knows that the
history of metaphysics to cover up the void is, at the same time, the narrative produced by its
apparatuses. What is important, however, is that by allocating these two times, Rodriguez Matos is
able to set up what was otherwise obstructed: mainly, the time of void, which falls right beneath all
principial politics, always in retreat and outside legitimizing messianic and developmental policity
of Western modernity that governs both the time of the One and that of the multiple. Lezama is the
figure that mobilizes a drift away from these two modalities:
“…beyond the politization of politics, and beyond the image of time as synthetic operation, what
remains is the possibility of thinking with the poet beyond the current apparatus of academic-
imperial) knowledge and all of its returns” (Rodriguez 25).
One would not exaggerate much in concluding that Lezama Lima as a thinker of the informe
becomes the necessary antidote and hospitable dispensary against the philological exercises of
the traditional belleletrism, but also of decolonial and neocommunist designs that, although
attempting at the surface to break-away with imperial semblances, end up carrying the guise of
principial politics as the highest flagpole for self-legitimation.
The reading of the informe allows us to move beyond the temporal dichotomy between revolution
and conservation, messianic originalism (such as that of catholic, later convert post-socialist official
poet Cintio Vitier), and the multiplicity of historical time (such as that endorsed by Rafael Rojas,
Cuba’s most sophisticated neo-republican intellectual historian). It must be noted, however, that
many other intellectuals and thinkers are tested on this basis. The common ground shared by
diverse thinkers such as Rafael Rojas, Ernesto Laclau, Cintio Vitier, Walter Benjamin, Bruno
Bosteels, Alain Badiou, and those that subscribe to post-foundationalism becomes clear: mainly,
the assumption that the crisis of nihilism of temporality can be amended by always providing an
adjustment for the abyss. In this way, Rodriguez Matos offers a frontal critique of any claim
instantiated in hegemonic phantasms: “Our task remains to think time in all its radical complexity –
that is, to think time as something other than a solution” (Rodriguez Matos 44). Writing of the
Formless stands up to this deliverance.
There are many important elements that come forth in this argumentation, one of them being that
the covering of the formless, or the lack of foundation, is usually articulated through a master and
masterable political theology. It is not just Rodriguez Matos who arrives at this conclusion, but also
Bruno Bosteels by way of observing the inscription of Christianity in many of contemporary
thinkers of the Left. In a passage cited by Rodriguez Matos from Marx and Freud in Latin America,
we read: “All these thinkers [Badiou, Negri, Zizek], in fact, remain deeply entangled in the political
theology of Christianity – unable to illustrate the militant subject except through the figure of the
saint” (Rodriguez Matos 44). It is even more perplexing then, that Bosteels’ own solution to this
problem ends up being just more political theology by way of Leon Rozitchner’s reading of Saint
Augustine, and merely exchanging the category of the saint for that of the militant subject, even
though this is already part of the history of alienation of Christianity [1]. But the reason for this
might be, as Rodriguez Matos thematizes a few pages later, that any predicament for politization
as supreme value today needs to ascertain some sort of militant subject of the event in order to
guarantee a consensus on “contemporaneity”, and in this way avoids what the present is or what it
actually stands for (Rodriguez Matos 109).
The chapters 2 (“Sovereignties, Poetic, and Otherwise) and three (“The Mixed Times of the
Revolution”) attend to how the question of time was conceived within the Cuban Revolution. This
framing, one must first note, already dislocates the grounds of the discussion centered on the
sovereign or the caudillo, a fetish so dear to both revolutionary and liberal imaginations when
confronting the ‘Latinamericanist object’. Hence, in chapter two, Rodriguez Matos advances a
demolishing reading of the temporality of foquismo, although not on the grounds that one could
have imagined. From a historiographical standpoint, it is common to agree on the fact that that
both Guevara and Debray’s formulations have little substance in historical experience, since they
are theoretical fictions that develop to master a non-repeatable event (the Cuban Revolution),
which was far from being successful solely because of the foco guerrillero in the first place. But
this is not Rodriguez Matos’ critique. The argument is set up to make the claim that the Revolution,
in order to become flesh and conceive the unity and sameness with the people, theory must be
first discarded (Rodriguez Matos 60). Rather mysteriously, in foquismo it is the people that ‘act’,
while Guevara becomes its narratological supplement. This is the inversion of the Leninist principle
that alleged that in order for a revolution to materialize it needs a good theory beforehand.
Guevara, in Rodriguez Matos, takes the role of the anti-Lenin. In fact, in a strange way, Che
appears as a sort of naturalist-philosopher: “…what Guevara is after is the same time that was at
issue in Marti: the idealism of the Revolution has to become a force of nature, sprouting in the
wind without being cultivated…in all its originary ontological stability, phusis) and the people,
without the transubstantiation of the idea into flesh yielding intimate unity, and without this force of
nature forging revolutionary ideology…this passage would be nothing but the declaration of one
individual from Argentina who has recently landed in a foreign land…” (Rodriguez Matos 60).
Guevara is a hopeless romantic, who recaps the Romantic ideal of the fragmented temporality in
the pedagogical poem, only that for him the impolitical people are in a “time out of joint”. This is
why they must also become a New Man. The catastrophe of foquismo, is thus not merely at the
level of a massive historical evidence, but an afterfact of a metaphysics that is already one step
away from thinking the void, while formalizing it through a dialectical moment. Rodriguez Matos
stages the central problem, just after having glossed Guevara’s revolutionary thought:
“For the metaphysics in question already relies heavily on the form in which it makes multiple small
narratives. For the metaphysics in question already relieves heavily on the form in which it makes
multiple temporalities appears together. That is, modernity is fundamentally and internally
committed to the constant confrontation of disparate forms of time. Instead, I suggest taking a
closer look at the time of lost time, the time of the void, and what might happen when it is not filled
in but, rather, allowed to resonate in all its formlessness.” (Rodriguez Matos 61).
How should we understand this echo? The turn to Celan and Heidegger’s immersion in noise and
the ontological difference validates immediately any vacillation in the answer, since what is at
stake is ultimately to think not the “standstill of all time” of the messianic force, but our being in
time understood as our most basic and intimate relation that we have with time (Rodriguez Matos
70). It is only this absent time of the formless that will be one of majesty, capable of undoing
sovereign authority and its governability over the singular.
The third chapter moves against the belief that Lezama Lima can be grasped in interested
disputes regarding his intellectual provenance, political ideology, or assumed Catholicism
(origenismo). This is an arduous task, but Rodriguez Matos makes it look easy through a threefold
operation. First, Lezama is moved beyond the antinomies of secularization and aesthetics, placed
in the proper site of the religion of the formless (we will come back to this). Secondly, Rodriguez
Matos confronts Lezama’s own interpretation of the Revolution as parusia or Second Coming,
which coincides perfectly with Guevara’s own model of the “ways things are” that folds
revolutionary Cuba into globalization due an ingrained total administrate apparatus over life
(Rodriguez Matos 93).
This entails that revolutions, if we take the Cuban experience as metonymic of the phenomenon,
are always already biopolitical experiences, even though Rodriguez Matos does not frame it in
such terms. Third, by understanding the ‘mixed’ temporality of communism and revolutionary
politics as convergent with the temporality of capitalism, we come to understand that the second is
always on reserve in the backdrop of the state and its institutions (Rodriguez Matos 96-97). In
sum, the superposition of revolutionary times with the time of capital is here shown, once again, to
be two sides of the same dual narrative of modernity that turns away from the abyss at the heart of
politics. This complicates many, if not all, of the assumptions that Cuban transitologists have
disputed with very futile outcomes, in my opinion, in the last decade.
Finally, the fourth chapter “Nihilism: Politics as the Highest Value” rightly places the question of
nihilism at the center. This is a return to the question of political theologies discussed above.
Whereas many of the thinkers on both sides, republicanist and communist alike, take up the
question of nihilism, the result, according to Rodriguez Matos, is that it is presented as a fight
against those that think the problem of nihilism. Thus, the “banality of nihilism must be dismissed
or critiqued” (Rodriguez Matos 104). The operation rests on the fact that the question of being
must be avoided at all costs. And this is achieved in at least two main forms: discarding nihilism by
proposing a “multiplicity of times” (Rojas), or by proposing a “living philology” (Vitier, Bosteels) that
would be able to restitute a truth of a text of the past to give proper political ground (Rodriguez
Matos 115). Now the tables are turned, and those that seek to cover the void, as if that were an
option, appear as agents of a true nihilistic force.
The second part of the book titled “Writing the Formless,” provides a roaming through Lezama’s
conceptualization of the void against politico-theological closure, arriving at the unthought sites of
the ontological difference after Heidegger and deconstruction, and moving into infrapolitics. This is
an exemplary section in the sense that Rodriguez Matos warns that he is in no position to offer a
transhistorical formal theory of Lezama’s writing, and in this way he calmly avoids the
universitarian-Master demand for a totalizing expertise of lezamianos. This operation is
undertaken not for the sake of confrontation against Lezama specialists, but rather due to a more
modest motive: it is not the point that drives Writing of the Formless. Anyone to counter argue on
this level is rather to sidestep its most important contribution of this book. Finally, Rodriguez Matos
lays out what is at stake, which is tailored as a question that by far exceeds Lezama Lima as a
single corpus:
“Ultimately what is at issue whether there is a difference between those texts of the Western
tradition that forget the question of being and those whose starting point is the challenge and the
difficulty that the question poses, the challenge and the resistance involved in dealing with the
ground that is and is not there in its absence. What is at stake is whether or not it is possible to
imagine a writing and a thought that do not simply fall silent in order to guarantee the continuity of
the narrative of legitimacy and sovereign authority in the poem or in politics – but the link between
these two is also at issue here. That is, whether or not it is possible for posthegemonic infrapolitics
to be something other than the trace of politics” (Rodriguez Matos 136).
What immediately follows is a series of closely knit constellations of the writing of the formless as
absent time in Lezama, which I can only register here without much commentary: Lezama’s own
critique of T.S. Eliot’s notion of the difficult, a critique of Garcia Marruz’s reading of the aposiopesis
as rhetoric’s hegemonic property, Lezama’s understanding of Aristotelian metaphoricity; Lezama’s
philosophy of an atopical One, and finally Rodriguez Matos’ own conceptual position of Lezama as
an infrareligious and infrapolitical figure that pushes politico-theological legislation of principles to
their very limit into a ‘nonsynthesizable reminder’ [sic] (Rodriguez Matos 154). Further, Lezama’s
vitalist response to the Platonist pros hen, unlike the immanentist modern reversal, concludes in a
Platonist affirmation instead of an overcoming of Platonism (Rodriguez Matos 139). Rodriguez
Matos intelligently resolves this bizarre multiplicity vis-à-vis a parallel reading of Paul Claudel, who
rejects aposteriori knowledge in exchange for the cognizant objectification of God before the
sovereignty of the Poet. Although I am left thinking about the status of Neo-Platonism as it relates
to the discussion of Christian Trinitarian thought [2].
But Rodriguez Matos goes further, and the Lezama that emerges from this destructive multi-level
procedure is one that resists alleogrization, taking cue from Alberto Moreiras’ pioneering reading in
Tercer Espacio (1999), as well as a privileged and secured position of a profane materialism over
the question of form. And it is also in this very instance where Rodriguez Matos opens up to a
complicated debate, which although unresolved, is the most striking and illuminating kernel of his
book. In short: does ‘the roaming of the formless’ [sic] in Lezama offer something other than a
trace of politics? I want to suggest, from my first reading of what is certainly a complex
conversation, that this remains unresolved in Writing of the Formless. Let’s consider a key moment
at the end of the book:
“For part of what I am calling attention to is the fact the staging of the formless in Lezama involves
a thematization and an awareness of what should only be there as trace. This awareness goes
beyond a more familiar claim regarding the self-deconstruction of discourses of their own accord –
this is, after all, also what the trace is supposed to underscore. I would like to read this excess of
awareness as a radicalization of deconstruction” (Rodriguez Matos 176).
This radicalization will entail leaving behind the moment of ecriture, which characterized the first
wave of deconstruction in literary fixation and textual playfulness. Infrapolitics will be,
programmatically speaking, post-deconstruction, or what Moreiras has recently called a second
turn towards instituted deconstruction [3]. But the question remains: is infrapolitics then, a trace of
politics? It is an unresolved question, but perhaps the most important one. Rodriguez Matos
leaves us a clue at the very end of the book. When discussing the baroque – and let’s not lose
sight of the fact of how late the question arrives, which is a merit and not a pitfall – Rodriguez
Matos cites a letter of Lezama to Carlos Meneses: “I think that by now the baroque has begun to
give off a stench” (Rodriguez Matos 181). The Baroque has come become an exchangeable token
for the Boom, the last stage of identitarian transaction. But it is more than this: the baroque can no
longer account for the informe at the heart of the image and rhythm.
Let’s probe this further. If the baroque is now exhausted, it is because all politics of the frame are
insufficient to cope with the formless. The primacy of the critique of political economy today, for
example, remains just one of its last formal avatars. But one could also respond to Rodriguez
Matos’ final invitation, and say that while the aesthetic program of the baroque is demolished or
turned into ashes, perhaps a trace of it remains in posthegemonic politics. To the extent that we
understand the baroque as a political of self-affirmation against Imperium beyond hegemony, the
baroque necessarily entails a republicanist politics [4].
In other words, while the infrareligious trace depends on the abyss, posthegemonic politics of
republicanism sprouts from the baroque in early modernity against any imperial and counter-
imperial conversions. Rodriguez Matos interchangeably speaks of infrapolitics and posthegemony
throughout the book, therefore this nuance could be taken as a radicalization of the second term in
line with the disclosure regarding the baroque. Post-deconstructive infrapolitics remains open. But
if Lezama’s legacy is waged on having confronted the formless abyss of the absent time; perhaps,
the author of Dador can also reemerge as a political thinker and existential representative not of
Paradise, but of the secret Republic. This will entail a republicanism that, in each and every single
time, does not longer participate in the eternal arcanum.
Notes
1. This does not mean that St. Augustine cannot be read against the myth of political theology.
Such is the task that José Luis Villacañas has accomplished in his Teología Political Imperial:
una genealogía de la division de poderes (Trotta, 2016). In my view, Rozitchner’s La Cosa y
la Cruz (1997) is a flagrant misreading of Augustinian anti-political-theology in exchange for
a superficial materialist affective analysis. Although I do not have space to discuss this at
length, I must note that Rodriguez Matos’ discussion of contemporary materialisms is also a
timely warning about the easy exists that the so-called “materialisms” offer today as an
effective transaction in contemporary thought. For his discussion of materialism see, pgs.
104-108.
2. The question of Neo-Platonism is a fascinating story by itself, which speaks about the
multiple in the One. Pierre Hadot studied its influenced in debates of early Trinitarian thought
in his work of Marius Victorinus; recherches sur sa vie et ses œuvres (Paris: Etudes
augustiniennes, 1971). Now, it seems that Lezama Lima himself was not foreign to Plotinus
and Neoplatonism, which he linked it to the emergence of the modern poem. In fact, while
reading Writing of the Formless, I revisited my copy of Lezama Lima’s unpublished notes in
La Posibilidad Infinita: Archivo de José Lezama Lima, ed. Iván González Cruz (Verbum
Editorial 2000). It was interesting to find that in “Oscura vencida”, a fragment from 1958,
Lezama writes: “Si unimos a Guido Cavalcanti, March, Maurice Sceve, John Donne, en lo
que puede ser motejados de oscuros, con distintos grados de densidad, precisamos que sus
lectores, puede ser los más distinguidos cortesanos, o estudiantes que versifican cuando la
hija del tabernero inaugura unos zarbillos…Con una apresurada lectura de la Metafísica de
Aristóteles, sobre todo su genial concepto del tiempo que pasa a Hegel (sic) y a Heidegger;
con cuatro diálogos platónicos, donde desde luego no faltara el Parménides. Con algunas
añadiduras de Plotino sobre la sustancia y el uno…ya está el afanoso de la voluptuosos
métrica en placentera potencialidad para saborear una canción medieval, un soneto del
renacimiento florentino, o una ingenua aglomeración escolástica que se quiere sensibilizar, o
una súmala de saber infantil, regida por un pulso que no se abandonó a la plácida
oficiosa…” (252). This does not necessarily dodge Rodriguez Matos’ discussion of Claudel,
but complicates it, since the trinity also merges at different points throughout the book. My
question is whether any discussion of Trinitarian co-substantialism is still embedded in
metaphysical structuration as potentia absoluta, or if Lezama’s informe is a Parthian attack
against this influential model of absolute potentiality by turning it into a monstrous
infrareligion. At stake here is also the issue of ‘reversibility’ that is obliquely exposed at the
end of the book (Rodriguez Matos 189).
3. See Alberto Moreiras, “Comentario a Glas, de Jacques Derrida”.

https://infrapolitica.wordpress.com/2017/01/13/comentario-a-glas-de-jacques-derrida-notas-
para-la-presentacion-de-la-nueva-traduccion-espanola-clamor-publicada-en-madrid-la-
oficina-2016-y-hecha-por-muchos-autores-con-copyright-de-cristina/
4. The question of the republicanist politics, Imperium, and the baroque is studied in detailed in
Ángel Octavio Álvarez Solis’ La República de la Melancolía: Politica y Subjetividad en el
Barroco (La Cebra, 2015).
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9/4/2019 infrapolitics | Infrapolitical Deconstruction

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