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2024 Michigan Disadvantage
Negative › 1nc

Democratic erosion spurs world war----stability ensures global peace

Diamond 19, Stanford University's Freeman Spogli Institute for International Studies senior fellow (Larry, Ill Winds: Saving Democracy from Russian Rage, Chinese Ambition, and American Complacency, Ch 14)

The lengthening shadow of authoritarianism would also reach out from Beijing. An increasingly assertive and nationalist China would demand and compel submission to its growing strategic ambitions—not just in southeast Asia and the South China Sea but in the Indian Ocean, all the way to the Middle East at one end and deep into the Pacific Ocean at the other. As China continued its march to technological supremacy and global leadership, a declining, demoralized, and discredited United States would have to decide whether to go to war to defend democratic Taiwan from being forcibly absorbed into China’s Communist dictatorship. Surging Chinese despotism would threaten the freedom of much of the rest of democratic Asia, even if Japan, South Korea, and other U.S. allies—at best exposed, at worst forsaken—were able to resist Beijing's growing efforts to penetrate and compromise their democratic political systems. It would be a hinge in history. How would democracy in Latin America fare in the face of this massive shift in global power and momentum, with the corrupting influence of Chinese money eroding democratic forces in party politics, the media, and government? How would the brave dissidents and demonstrators who cherish the values of self-government and human rights argue for the moral force of democracy as an idea with China on the march and America in retreat? How many wreak and tentative democracies would survive in Africa as its elites saw ever more clearly which way the winds of global power were blowing? How many multinational companies would conclude that their interests compelled them to ride the dictators' bandwagon? How many global broadcasters and social media companies would resist the autocrats' demands for censorship and complicity? In such a near future, my fellow experts would no longer talk of “democratic erosion.” We would be spiraling downward into a time of democratic despair, recalling Daniel Patrick Moynihan’s grim observation from the 1970s that liberal democracy “is where the world was, not where it is going.”5 The world pulled out of that downward spiral—but it took new, more purposeful American leadership. The planet was not so lucky in the 1930s, when the global implosion of democracy led to a catastrophic world war, between a rising axis of emboldened dictatorships and a shaken and economically depressed collection of self-doubting democracies. These are the stakes. Expanding democracy—with its liberal norms and constitutional commitments— is a crucial foundation for world peace and security. Knock that away, and our most basic hopes and assumptions will be imperiled. The problem is not just that the ground is slipping. It is that we are perched on a global precipice. That ledge has been gradually giving way for a decade. If the erosion continues, we may well reach a tipping point where democracy goes bankrupt suddenly—plunging the world into depths of oppression and aggression that we have not seen since the end of World War II. As a political scientist, I know that our theories and tools are not nearly good enough to tell us just how close we are getting to that point—until it happens.

2024 Michigan Disadvantage
Negative › 1nc

Consolidation of Big tech to create monopolies are an existential threat to democracy.

Fukuyama et al. 20 (Francis Fukuayama is a Senior Fellow at Stanford University's Freeman Spogli Institute for International Studies, Ph.D. from Harvard in Political Science, honorary doctorates from Connecticut College, Doane College, Doshisha University (Japan), Kansai University (Japan), Aarhus University (Denmark), and the Pardee Rand Graduate School, “How to Save Democracy From Technology”, https://www.foreignaffairs.com/articles/united-states/2020-11-24/fukuyama-how-save-democracy-technology?check_logged_in=1&utm_medium=promo_email&utm_source=lo_flows&utm_campaign=article_link&utm_term=article_email&utm_content=20240630, Foreign Affairs, 11-24-20---gm)

Now, a growing “post-Chicago school” argues that antitrust law should be enforced more vigorously. Antitrust enforcement is necessary, they believe, because unregulated markets cannot stop the rise and entrenchment of anticompetitive monopolies. The shortcomings of the Chicago school’s approach to antitrust have also led to the “neo‑Brandeisian school” of antitrust. This group of legal scholars argues that the Sherman Act, the country’s early federal antitrust statute, was meant to protect not just economic values but also political ones, such as free speech and economic equality. Since digital platforms both wield economic power and control communication bottlenecks, these companies have become a natural target for this camp.

Big Tech poses unique threats to a well-functioning democracy.

2024 Michigan Disadvantage
Negative › 1nc

The government picks its battles – ceding ground with interest groups in exchange for wins on unrelated issues

Langtry 2024

Alastair Langtry, PhD economics researcher at the University of Cambridge, “Inside the West Wing: Lobbying as a contest,” Journal of Public Economics: Volume 231, March 2024, 105068 https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0047272724000045

Governments make many different policy decisions. In doing so, they often face pressures from different special interest groups who each care about one particular policy. These groups lobby for their special interest, which is often not aligned with overall welfare. Faced with many groups lobbying for many different policies, a government may not have the resources to get its way on every policy decision. So in practice, a government may ‘pick its battles’ — specifically, seek to do deals with some special interest groups to avoid a fight. However, existing models of lobbying struggle to engage with this intuition because they do not allow the government to do deals to avoid fights. We assume the government has limited resources. This gives rise to the possibility that some special interest groups get their way. Crucially, we also allow the government to cede a policy decision to a special interest group, and for special interest groups to make transfers to the government. Our key contribution is to show that this happens, and to explain why: in equilibrium, the government will not try to fight all the special interest groups but will pick its battles. Specifically, it either engages in a contest and wins with certainty, or it does a deal where it takes a contribution in exchange for ceding the contest to the special interest group. Note that there are three key components of a deal in our model: (1) a special interest group gives some resources, (2) which the government uses either directly or indirectly to win other contests, (3) in exchange for ceding the contest the special interest group cares about. As a motivating example, consider a deal done between the Obama administration and the pharmaceutical lobby to secure passage of the Affordable Care Act (‘Obamacare’). In it, the Obama administration dropped provisions allowing for the re-importation of prescription medicines at lower prices (Baker, 2012), and the pharmaceutical industry agreed to provide $80 billion to help fund expanded insurance coverage (Baker, 2012) and spent millions of dollars on pro-Obamacare advertising campaigns (Murray, 2009). In a complex bill like Obamacare, with many provisions each affecting different interest groups, we view each provision as its own policy. So the Obama administration ceded a contest with the pharmaceutical industry in order to win others (and secure passage of Obamacare in some form). But to tie this properly to our intuition, it must be that: (1) the Obama administration took (or was able to control) some specific resources from the pharmaceutical lobby and (2) either used them directly to help win different legislative battles, or used them to free up other resources that could then be used to win legislative battles. Finally, (3) this must be in exchange for the Obama administration ceding some contest with the pharmaceutical lobby. While we might expect that these deals between special interest groups and the government are typically kept behind closed doors, a leaked cache of private emails from the Obama administration provide direct evidence regarding the advertising spending. First, they show that PhRMA (the pharmaceutical industry association) was willing to spend $150 million on pro-Obamacare advertising through two groups it created, called Health Economy Now and Americans for Stable Quality Care (The Committee on Energy and Commerce, 2012). So in this case, the ‘contribution’ the special interest group made was in the form of advertising spending. They also show that this spending was directed and controlled by the Obama administration. This was through meetings and emails between Obama administration officials and representatives of the pharmaceutical lobby to agree the content and placement of the adverts. One leaked email puts this particularly bluntly: ‘‘Rahm [Emmanuel, Chief of Staff to President Barack Obama] asked for Harry and Louise ads thru third party. We’ve already contacted the agent’’ (email from Bryant Hall, a lobbyist for PhRMA to Jeffrey Forbes, a political strategist, dated 7 July 2009). ‘Harry and Louise’ were a fictional couple from a series of adverts attacking then-President Bill Clinton’s proposed healthcare reforms in 1993 and 1994 (Clinton Digital Library, 2023). These ads were seen as playing a critical role in the failure of the Clinton healthcare reforms (West et al., 1996; Brodie, 2001), giving Harry and Louise a special connection to healthcare reform. The adverts aired one week after the email (The Committee on Energy and Commerce, 2012). Second, they suggest this spending was aimed at securing passage of Obamacare. While direct evidence in the leaked emails is lacking, it is implicit throughout that the purpose of running pro-Obamacare ads was to help pass Obamacare. The specific request for ‘‘Harry and Louise ads’’ is also suggestive, given their particular connection to healthcare reform. Finally, the emails show that this was in exchange for controls on pharmaceutical drug prices not becoming law. An email from Democrat strategist Steve McMahon to PhRMA lobbyist Bryant Hall (dated 3 June 2009, The Committee on Energy and Commerce (2012)) acknowledged, ‘‘I told them there were bright lines, but PhRMA was serious about reform. We agreed that we would talk on a regular basis about what they wanted and what we might be able to do. I also told them if the lines were violated the money would go elsewhere and ‘that wouldn’t be good’’’. This understanding of a quid pro quo is critical to our model. Note that our motivating example looks at a case where the government uses resources from a deal directly to fight other interest groups. It is easiest to see the mechanism in action in this direct case. But the model also allows indirect use of the resources — the government can use them to free up political capital from something unrelated, and use that other political capital in contests. We also generate precise predictions of which groups a government cedes contests to. If the special interest groups’ preferred policies are not too harmful, then the government concedes all contests. It prefers to acquire as much political capital as possible by doing deals, as we assume that having political capital brings some benefit to the government. On the other hand, if special interest groups’ preferred policies are sufficiently harmful, then the government cedes exactly the number of contests needed to allow it to win all remaining contests with certainty. And it cedes to interest groups whose preferred policy outcome is least harmful to society. In stark contrast, if the government cannot do deals, it adopts a ‘scattergun’ approach and spreads its resources across all possible contests, in proportion to the importance of each contest. The model explains why even governments that appear weak may not lose many legislative fights. It is because a weak government chooses not to engage in many fights. This highlights how the success a government has depends on the ambition of its agenda — i.e. how many fights it picks. Further, it shows that the ability to make deals dramatically reduces the amount of lobbying special interest groups do directly. However, special interest groups make contributions to the government — which increases the amount of political capital the government spends on contests. Unsurprisingly, a government that starts with less political capital takes more contributions from special interest groups. But it also spends less on contests. Related Literature. This paper relates to two strands of literature; lobbying and conflict. Our key contribution is to allow the government to make deals with special interest groups; ceding on some policies in exchange for resources that can then be used to help secure other policies the government wants. This adds to the lobbying literature by providing a stylised way of capturing the back-room deals that governments might do with special interest groups. Most of the existing literature on lobbying uses either information or agency issues as the core friction (see Bombardini and Trebbi (2020) for a recent review). In the former case, largely following Crawford and Sobel (1982), special interest groups have better information than the government and affect what the government wants to do through strategic communication. See for example, Esteban and Ray (2000), Bennedsen and Feldmann (2002) and Roberti (2014). The latter, largely following Grossman and Helpman (1994), models agency issues as the government caring both about social welfare and about direct payoffs to itself. Special interest groups influence what the government wants to do by offering money. Included in this second strand is work that models interactions between different interest groups as a conflict (see for example Esteban and Ray (1999) and Kang (2016)). As in our paper, contest success functions are used to model the conflict, but the government is not a party in the contest. A notable exception is Franke and Öztürk (2015). While theirs is a more general study of conflict on a network (including our set-up where one central agent engages in contests with many peripheral agents), it can cover an application to lobbying. However, they have no notion of conceding contests. In the conflict literature, the ability to cede contests in exchange for a transfer of resources represents a novel addition to Colonel Blotto games (an important class of games in the conflict literature).2 We find this has a dramatic impact on equilibrium outcomes. The government moves from spreading its resources across all contests to fighting only where it will win for certain. This suggests the ability to cede contests has potentially important implications for battles on multiple fronts beyond this application to lobbying.

2024 Michigan Disadvantage
Negative › 1nc

FTC and DOJ crackdown over AI solves.

PYMNTS 6-10 [PYMNTS, 6-10-2024, “Tech Titans in the Crosshairs: DOJ and FTC Ready to Rumble Over AI Dominance”, https://www.pymnts.com/artificial-intelligence-2/2024/tech-titans-in-the-crosshairs-doj-and-ftc-ready-to-rumble-over-ai-dominance/, Accessed 7-2-2024]// dedeepya

The Justice Department and the Federal Trade Commission (FTC) are reportedly gearing up to unleash their antitrust hounds on Microsoft, OpenAI and Nvidia, according to a Wednesday (June 5) report from The New York Times.

These tech behemoths have been driving artificial intelligence (AI) innovation, but now face new scrutiny as regulators investigate whether their dominance is squeezing competition in an industry poised to usher in a digital transformation for a multitude of businesses.

2024 Michigan Disadvantage
***Antitrust DA*** › Notes

Opportunities for improvement:

Evidence that the FTC/DOJ efforts will have a meaningful impact is lacking. Be sure to leverage previous big tech opposition efforts as proof that the threat to antitrust action is significant/growing hence big tech calling all hands to the deck.

Evidence that the FTC/DOJ makes deals with big tech is lacking – that they will cede a battle that is…

There is certainly tension when reading uniqueness evidence that FTC/DOJ antitrust efforts versus big tech will prove fruitful AND internal link evidence demonstrating the potency of big tech (their OP arsenal was on full display versus congressional antitrust legislation in 2022). Be cautious of this when trying to prove the government will GET to pick a battle versus big tech. Note that post the AIOC defeat in 2022 a few developments help with neg U – emphasize the tremendous surge in DOJ/FTC resources, increased bipartisan support for both agencies efforts, and Khan learning from prior missteps and transitioning to a strategy of “picking battles” more methodically.

2024 Michigan Disadvantage
***Antitrust DA*** › Notes

Strengths:

The evidence indicating the government must pick its battles with special interest groups (lobbies) is great and no affirmative answer has been published in response to this March 2024 journal (Thanks JP).

The evidence indicating it’s try-or-die for antitrust versus big tech’s consolidation of AI is strong—the sense of alacrity is also strong.

The evidence that a big tech with unchecked AI dominance zeros any solvency for “start-ups” or “disruptive technologies” is strong.

2024 Michigan Kritik
AFF › AT: Cybernetics › 2AC---Beller’s Wrong

Beller’s concepts are abstracted from history and political usefulness- can’t solve their offense.

Lark 18 (Daniel, Master’s student of Cinema and Media Studies at USC, Jonathan Beller, The Message is Murder: Substrates of Computational Capital, International Journal of Communication 12, Book Review 264–265) BW

The Message is Murder presents less the culmination of a long research project and more of a first attempt to gather disparate threads together to see where they might lead. As such, Beller’s book is a bit fragmented in its approach, developing the beginnings of an investigation on a particular topic before quickly moving on to the next. In his effort to criticize media studies for its lack of engagement with race, he neglects to mention any examples that do, in fact, meet this criteria, such as the work of scholars like Wendy Hui Kyong Chun and Lisa Nakamura. While he argues for a historical understanding of media formations, his arguments are rooted less in the historical record and more in the persuasive rhetoric of the polemic. He coins provocative terms like “fractal fascism” and “platform totalitarianism” without delving too deeply into how these terms might be concisely developed and employed. These terms, however, lend themselves well to the polemical argument that Beller develops.

2024 Michigan Kritik
AFF › AT: Cybernetics › 2AC---Cybernetics Wrong

Cybernetics is wrong

Williams, PhD, 15 (Williams, A. , DigitalMedia&Society@EastAngliaControl Societies and Platform Logic. New Formations, 84/85, pp. 209-227. doi: 10.3898/neWf:84/85.10.2015 https://openaccess.city.ac.uk/id/eprint/16763/1/)

The Cybernetic Limit Having established how a restrictive cybernetic vision of control might operate, we are now in a position to mount a critique to point towards what such a picture of contemporary power ignores. In cleaving to an understanding of power as basically restrictive, cybernetic control is largely focused on the ways in which decentralised systems contain and limit behaviour. From this perspective, at least, the control society operates as a system of complexly articulated homeostats, modulating and constraining behaviours towards accepted goals. The relatively primitive forms of feedback offered by disciplinary panopticons have become vastly more sophisticated, dynamic, mobile, omnipresent, and operative on a personal or even sub-personal level. Yet these remain primarily negative in nature (even if targeting goals which are themselves dynamic, as when the goal is a set rate of change). What this leaves out is the dimension of decentralised power which is not merely restrictive, (or goal-oriented) but which is also constructive. On the one hand, this constructive aspect refers to the ways in which control systems positively construct as well as negatively constrict action – they make things possible that would otherwise be impossible. On the other hand, it is also to point towards the fact that cybernetic visions of control have a tendency to ignore the ground of such decentralised power, the very means by which it might be constituted, and hence also modified. For example, we might ask why it is that certain kinds of control systems predominate over others. To put this another way: there may well be a more interesting relationship between constraint and enablement, and hence between necessity and contingency, than control is often taken to indicate. As we argue below, the immense power of control rests not just in its ability to modulate behaviour via homeostatic dynamics, to target goals which are known in advance, but also in its ability to relatively constrain an open-ended range of contingent behaviours, which cannot be identified in advance. These contingent behaviours, enabled and constrained by the control systems within which they operate, work also to reinforce the power of the control systems themselves, in a conspiracy between closedness and openness, constriction and construction. It is this relationship, and its increasing operationalisation by business and governmental organisations, that constitutes the real power of control, a power we will describe under the name of the platform. More than an issue of mere theoretical dispute, there are important practical implications for how we are to consider possible resistance to the operations of cotemporary power. For if we misunderstand the nature of control’s power, then we will also be likely to misapprehend the correct measures necessary to oppose, transform or supplant it. This also goes some way to explaining why it is that the strategic responses often offered in response to the control society have been relatively paltry (and largely focused on hacking, spreading viruses, or otherwise disrupting or evading existing control systems).29

2024 Michigan Kritik
AFF › AT: Cybernetics › 2AC---AT: Beller

Critiques of Western modernity that use western knowledge as an alternative conception of politics reify Western sovereignty over marginalized cultures by simply trying to situate non-Western knowledge into an Western epistemic framework. Their method is a Eurocentric criticism of Eurocentricity.

Jenko, Professor PolSci National University of Singapore, ’11 (Leigh, Fall, “Recentering Political Theory: The Promise of Mobile Locality” Cultural Critique, Vol 79, ProjectMuse)//JAG

Destabilizing the Local In claiming to offer a distinct approach to cross-cultural engagement that takes historically marginalized (often coded as “non-Western”) traditions seriously as sources of theory production, my call to recenter theory implicitly criticizes existing alternatives for stopping short of this more radical goal. In much scholarly literature on cross-cultural theorizing, solutions to the problem of Eurocentrism aim primarily to draw attention to the limits and contingency of those “master signifiers” inscribed within and by dominant (often coded as “Western” or “Europeanized”) social scientific and humanistic discourse (e.g., Euben 2006). This effort, pioneered and articulated by postcolonial studies, defines Eurocentrism as the projection of “the West” and its disciplinary categories as a universal measure of knowledge against which all other life-worlds or cultures must be compared (Prakash, 1475 n.1; Chakrabarty, 29, 43). Confronting Eurocentrism so understood thus entails recognizing the closures, contingencies, and silences enacted within Europeanized discourse as its local categories become inscribed as universal ones. This kind of “critical work seeks its basis not without but within the fissures of dominant structures” (Prakash, 1486–87). It thus aims more to mitigate what Fred Dallmayr calls the “bland universalism” accompanying colonialism and first-world capital flows (1996, 99), than to engage foreign discourses as potential outside replacements for the problematic categories of Europeanized knowledge. Precisely because this confrontation with Eurocentrism aims at its “fissures” rather than its alternatives, the critical stance that undermines the certainty of Europeanized categories—and so enables the entry of more cosmopolitan renderings of human life-worlds—also returns the theorist to the very audience and discourse whose terms originally prompted the critique. Although addressing Eurocentrism on one level, it reconstitutes it on another: the analysis chastens Europeanized categories only insofar as it continues to inhabit them (Jenco). Those theorists who explicitly urge the inclusion of non-Western voices [End Page 30] in our debates about political life, including political philosophers such as Charles Taylor as well as comparative theorists such as Roxanne Euben, ground this move in an understanding of knowledge as local and rooted. In contrast to an older cosmopolitanism that promoted indiscriminate tolerance or rootless eclecticism, this “new cosmopolitanism” is characterized by its resistance to imperializing universalism, on the one hand, and its unwillingness to sacrifice the “rootedness” of individual persons within their particular cultural backgrounds, on the other (Malcomson, 233–35). In this way they can resist both functionalist equivalences and universalizing ambitions—Archimedian vantage points that transform localized insight into general, “universal” knowledge—and instead seek a new space for communication across cultural differences (Benhabib; Euben 1999). Many culturally sensitive political thinkers analogize this cosmopolitan negotiation of rooted selves to a conversation that takes place between differently situated interlocutors to encourage mutual transformation—whether in the form of convergence, as for Bikhu Parekh and Charles Taylor (1999), or of accommodation without strict consensus, for James Tully and Fred Dallmayr (1996). Charles Taylor calls what emerges “a language of perspicuous contrast,” in which rather than imposing “our” terms on “them” we “formulate both their way of life and ours as alternative possibilities in relation to human constraints at work in both” (1985, 125). Hans-Georg Gadamer and those comparative political theorists influenced by him such as Fred Dallmayr invoke a similar process that encourages a “fusion of horizons.” These dialogic, supposedly mutually transformative encounters are conducted as often between texts as between people, and mean to facilitate mutual sympathy, grounded in the credibility of differently situated ways of life, as a means of combating universalist hegemony and hierarchical power relations (Dallmayr 2004; Euben 1999, 13). The dialogic approach further develops the postcolonial articulation of Eurocentrism by showing how critique can flow from both cultural locales without asserting the singular dominance that characterizes more “homogenizing” approaches. There are problems with this position, however, despite its important role in correcting imperializing narratives fueled by unreflective, often Western-centric universalism. Pratap Mehta, speaking of the cosmopolitan viewpoint that underlies these and other approaches to [End Page 31] cultural difference in political theory, has insightfully pointed out that its “hermeneutic potential is greater than its transgressive possibilities” (633). That is, the encounter with otherness has enhanced the interpretive richness of our self-reflections by making us ever more aware of the silences and contingency of “our” own sources of knowledge. But it has ignored possibilities for fundamental transformations in knowledge production prompted not only by the inclusion of cases and voices that our own theories marginalize, but also from shifts in the very audience, language, and resources assumed in the production of intellectual work. Roxanne Euben’s analysis of “Muslim and Western travelers in search of knowledge,” for example, gathers Muslim perspectives not to set political theory on a new track addressed to Muslim audiences disciplined by their terms of debate, but to make a tripartite argument notably independent of any particular Muslim viewpoint: that “the association of travel and the pursuit of knowledge is not confined to any particular cultural constellation or epoch”; that “knowledge about what is familiar and unfamiliar is produced comparatively,” and finally that “the course and consequences of exposures to the unfamiliar are unpredictable” (2006, 15–16). Farah Godrej’s plea for including non-Western perspectives within a cosmopolitan political theory, similarly, does not expect to advance political theory along non-Western lines so much as enhance the discipline’s capacity for self-reflection. She recommends an immersive interpretive understanding of texts situated in non-Western cultural frames to thereby “disturb or dislocate our familiar understandings of politics,” working from the assumption that “the very movement of [a] Western reader within the ‘Western tradition’ of political theory . . . may allow her to find familiarity in these [Western] texts that eludes her in the encounter with a non-Western text” (138, 139). Godrej and Euben are representative, but certainly not exhaustive, of how the attempt to unmask Western universalistic ambitions through localizing or “rooting” knowledge in culturally specific contexts ends up effacing the ability of historically excluded traditions or debates to discipline our own inquiry. Despite the fact that these theorists all recognize such others as theory-producing, self-reflective beings—hence their inclusion within political theory and philosophy—they paradoxically prohibit the often long-standing strains of [End Page 32] thought that lay behind their claims from displacing the very debates or categories in Western thought recognized to be problematic. Rather, frameworks of comparison confine theoretical claims to their communities of origin, resulting in the paradoxical insistence by cross-cultural theorists that any project of inclusion cannot transcend its own origins in European Enlightenment thought. This is not only for the reason that European thought dominates global knowledge production—a key motivation for postcolonial theorists, whose project turns in large part on exposing the aporia of Western modernity in global settings—but because the individual Western researcher is assumed to be rooted in her local, Europeanized categories to such an extent that his or her understanding of non-Western ideas is permanently constrained. Indeed, this embeddedness is seen by many, including Charles Taylor, as the constitutive problem of learning across cultures (1985, 130–31; Godrej, 158, 159), on the assumption that the only other alternative would be a “view from nowhere” that reinforces existing power relations by according the status quo a claim to neutrality (Euben 2006, 27). The starting assumption of these analyses is revealed to be precisely that we cannot transcend our own situated particularity radically enough to do more than, in Euben’s words, “negotiate” these other particulars, as we “disclose commonalities in the cross-cultural production of knowledge” (45). As Anglophone political theorists, we are situated always-already within the putative tradition that constitutes political theory, and always-already outside of any other possibilities.

2024 Michigan Kritik
NEG › AT: Misc › AT: Edelman --- “The Child”

Edelman’s understanding of “The Child” as a point of rejection is both fantasmic and conservative in nature – it’s a misrepresentation of Lacanian theory, and is contingent on an erotophobic understanding of the final frontier of antinormativity.

Ashtor 22 (Gila Ashtor is a critical theorist, psychoanalyst and writer. She teaches at Columbia University and is in private practice in New York City. She trained at the Institute for Psychoanalytic Training and Research (IPTAR) in New York City and is an editor at Studies in Gender and Sexuality, “Adults Only: Lee Edelman’s No Future and the Limits of Queer Critique”, “The Queerness of Childhood: Essays from the Other Side of the Looking Glass”, Palgrave Macmillan, 7-21-22, )//LF

I introduce metapsychology as a new analytic that zeroes in on the underlying psychological assumptions inherent in queer conceptualizations of desire, sexuality, sex, and subjectivity. By analyzing the uninterrogated psychological conventions that subtend the field’s most established critical formulations, my essay questions the presumptive radicalism of avowedly “negative” or “antinormative” theorizations. Focusing on the contentious and influential insistence that “true” queerness demands a rejection of the child, the essay examines the kinds of normative psychological assumptions this argument reproduces. I draw on Jean Laplanche’s theorization of the adult-infant relationship to problematize the easy, and by now kneejerk, association of the child with heteronormative sexuality. Although the critique of the child largely derives its psychological legitimacy from applications of Lacan, a close reading of the metapsychology underpinning these claims will demonstrate that the popular formulation, Child=Social and (therefore) Queer Subject=anti-Child, fundamentally misreads Lacan’s complex model of the relationship of the “Other” to “desire.” To further particularize the role of the child in these formulations, this chapter shows that central to Laplanche’s critique of Lacan is the claim that grasping the child in material (rather than strictly linguistic) terms, provides a necessary prerequisite for establishing the realism of unconscious sexuality. For Queer Studies, this Laplanchian critique of Lacan will demonstrate why, in spite of how bold and allegedly extreme denouncing the child may seem, the attack on the figurative or hypothetical child does more to defend and perpetuate erotophobia than to challenge or undo it. Part II The total conflation of radical critique with antinormativity is an essential feature of No Future’s rhetorical strategy. This is unsurprising since Edelman’s argument declares that only the resistance to normativity as extreme as the one he’s suggesting qualifies as actually, “truly” radical. Using “queerness” as a synonym for truth, Edelman contends that “truth, like queerness, irreducibly linked to the ‘aberrant or atypical,’ to what chafes against ‘normalization,’ finds its value not in a good susceptible to generalization, but only in the stubborn particularity that voids every notion of a general good … its value, instead, resides in its challenge to value as defined by the social, and thus in its radical challenge to the very value of the social itself.”20 Aligning queerness with truth on one side and the “general good” of “generalization” and “the social itself” on the other, Edelman establishes the groundwork for coding any opposition to his “opposition” as necessarily sentimental, lazy, or weak-willed. In their performative conversation, Sex, or the Unbearable, Berlant resists having her attachment to “repair” characterized by Edelman as a “fantasy of making a big picture of a repaired world of happy lovers, adequate storytellers, and properly recognized beings,”21 but even as she issues this plea for a different dialogic ethics, her demand to have the rigor of her negativity recognized as such betrays the development of an exchange where her every attempt to theorize reparative possibilities is met with Edelman’s insistence that her “hopefulness” or belief in a “scene” is unwarranted, misplaced, fantasmatic, and psychologically and politically naïve. When Berlant diagnoses the problem with Edelman’s argumentative tactics, she suggests that, “maybe you believe less in the structural generativity of this worlding work than I do; I don’t know. I do know that central to my own approach to this conversation has been not to take on many of your challenges directly in order not endlessly to dig into your positions under the fantasy that in so doing either one of us will persuade the other.”22 Interpreting their impasse to result from Edelman’s “bad faith” argumentation, Berlant accuses Edelman of relational unkindness as though his critical responses are technically accurate and only their deployment, in this conversation with her, are unfair and misguided. What goes entirely unnoticed in this exchange, or to my mind in any of the criticisms leveled at No Future, is that the force of Edelman’s authority as a “radical” critic derives from his privileged position in relation to subjectivity’s structural “truth.” Against every other theorist’s sentimental aspirations for a “better life,” Edelman begins by asserting that, “negativity, in my view, speaks to the fact that life, in some sense, doesn’t ‘work,’ is structurally inimical to happiness, stability or regulated functioning.”23 A few pages into No Future, a similar repetition of the word “structure” organizes the momentum of Edelman’s claims: “queerness exposes the obliquity of our relation to what we experience in and as social reality, alerting us to the fantasies structurally necessary in order to sustain it and engaging those fantasies through the figural logics, the linguistic structures, that shape them.”24 Here, as throughout Edelman’s text, he refers to “structures” and “logics” of subjectivity/sociality as established, ontological “fact[s]” as if his use of these terms was not an application of theory developed in metapsychology and extended to literary queer theory. Using Lacan to furnish a literary-political vocabulary for his own argument about the inherent social-psychic negativity of queerness, Edelman repeatedly insists on the “structural” foundation of his claims, as though his position is the only theoretically rigorous scenario for subjectivity (as Lacan has defined it). However, what this angle obscures is the fantasy underlying it: of a neutral, pure, unmediated “theory” that he, as a brave and careful close reader, is faithfully extrapolating from. Once the object of his inquiry is nothing less than human “drives” themselves, and drives behave “structurally” and “negativity” is “structural,” then any conclusion that does not resemble his own betrays its own fantasmatic investments. Therefore, in order to project the naturalness of his own interpretation, and to disclaim its interpretive nature, Edelman’s rhetorical strategy systematically occludes the manifold leaps and moves he makes in order to link “queerness,” “sexuality,” “negativity,” and “sociality” in the particular way that he has. In spite of deconstruction’s lessons about the constructedness of every binary, No Future, apparently un-self-consciously, positions the “truth” of queerness on the “bad” (=good) side of the drive and against the “good” (=bad) side of the “social.” This application of structuralism (as a study of relations) to sexual politics in order to advance what it is calling desire’s structural, transcendental truth, enables Edelman to offer a “truly hopeless wager”— by positioning himself as the courageous messenger of this unavoidable “truth”— that insists on “taking the Symbolic’s negativity to the very letter of the law,” a proposition which seems again to suggest that his application of Lacan is in fact really only a dutiful “close reading” of the “very letter of the law.” But this insistence that No Future is only the natural outcome of accepting the structural truth of sociality and sex obscures the endless analogies, applications, and category errors that Edelman’s argument depends upon for its smooth rhythm as a polemic where truth is defined as the “truly hopeless” extrapolation of ontological “facts.”25 For example, in Edelman’s text the following argumentative structures recur: “truth like queerness,” “queer theory as the other side of politics,” politics “like the network of signifying relations that forms the Lacanian Symbolic,” politics as the name for “the space in which Imaginary relations … compete for Symbolic fulfillment,” politics as that which “conforms to the temporality of desire,” “death drive names the queer,” “death drive marks the excess embedded within the Symbolic,” “future” as that which “marks the impossible place of an Imaginary past,” and “the Child” as having “come to embody for us the telos of the social order.”26 To understand how Edelman—a critic so well-versed in deconstruction—could reproduce the very fantasy of absolute legibility that those interpretive techniques were intended to dismantle is to consider how for Jacques Derrida, the metaphysics of presence was not an intellectual faw that could have been avoided by a more rigorous thinker but rather a feature of thought itself. As Derrida writes in Of Grammatology, “the privilege of phone does not depend upon a choice that could have been avoided. It responds to a moment of economy … The system of ‘hearing (understanding)-oneself-speak’ through the phonic substance – which presents itself as the non-exterior, non-mundane, therefore non-empirical or non-contingent signifer—has necessarily dominated the history of the world during an entire epoch.”27 If deconstruction is not another doxa but instead a method of reading it is because “self-presence” is not a voluntaristic choice but an effect of how thinking functions in relation to symbolization.28 More locally, and returning to the status of critique in antinormative thought and No Future specifically, this essay is interested in how the Child—as the normative exemplar par excellence—not only stabilizes a series of incoherent interpretive claims as structural facts, but also points to a limitation in how the child—as a psychological position—is conceived in prevailing psychoanalytic thought. Whereas the critical viability of No Future hinges on Edelman’s distinction of “actual children” from the “Child as figure,” this chapter is interested in understanding the child as a particular relation to time and sexuality that is categorically distinguishable from other/adult developmental moments. In this context, the ostensible extremism of Edelman’s call to “fuck the future” reveals itself to be both utopian and misguided to the extent it mistakes his own fantasy of the child for an assault on the “figure of the Child.” Therefore, rather than decrying No Future’s self-proclaimed radical message, this essay will show that telling the child to “fuck off”29—while irresistibly cathartic and empowering—is actually conservative, traditional, and uncritical in both its content and its theoretical approach. Although Edelman’s argument expects, even depends upon, the reader’s offended objections, a deep engagement with Laplanche’s re-examination of the child within the psychoanalytic paradigm contests No Future’s linking of any opposition to its own oppositionality with a pious defense of the reproductive future and demonstrates instead that if saying “fuck you” to the child seems in any way radical it is because of how insufficiently and superficially the dominant model of subjectivity construes the role of childhood in “adult” sexuality. From the perspective of this essay, Edelman’s absolute reduction of all identifcatory positions to either “with or against” the Child misrepresents as the final frontier of antinormative thought a relation to sexuality that is actually pre-critical, and ultimately erotophobic.

2024 Michigan Kritik
NEG › Cap K Updates › 1NC---Link---Left Melancholy

Their political pessimism is a form of Left Melancholy that trades off with material action via discourse focus

Brown 99 (Wendy Brown is is an American political theorist. She is the UPS Foundation Professor in the School of Social Science at the  in Princeton, “Resisting Left Melancholy”, Duke University Press, Volume 26, Number 3, Fall 1999, )//LF

For the last two decades, cultural theorist Stuart Hall has insisted that the “crisis of the Left” is due neither to internal divisions in the activist or academic Left nor to the clever rhetoric or funding schemes of the Right. Rather, he has charged, this ascendancy is consequent to the Left’s own failure to apprehend the character of the age and to develop a political critique and a moral-political vision appropriate to this character. For Hall, the rise of the Thatcher-Reagan Right was a symptom rather than a cause of this failure, just as the Left’s dismissive or suspicious attitude toward [End Page 19] cultural politics is for Hall a sign not of its unwavering principles but of its anachronistic habits of thought and its fears and anxieties about revising those habits. But what is the content and dynamic of these fears and anxieties? How would we begin to plumb these? Impossible to explore exhaustively in these few pages, I want to consider just one dimension of them, a dimension that many decades earlier Walter Benjamin termed “left melancholy.” As most readers will know, Benjamin was neither categorically nor characterologically opposed to the value and valence of sadness as such, nor to the potential insights gleaned from brooding over one’s losses. Indeed, he had a well-developed appreciation of the productive value of acedia, sadness, and mourning for political and cultural work, and in his study of Charles Baudelaire, Benjamin treated melancholia itself as something of a creative wellspring. But left melancholy is Benjamin’s unambivalent epithet for the revolutionary hack who is, finally, attached more to a particular political analysis or ideal—even to the failure of that ideal—than to seizing possibilities for radical change in the present. In Benjamin’s enigmatic insistence on the political value of a dialectical historical grasp of “the time of the Now,” left melancholy represents not only a refusal to come to terms with the particular character of the present, that is, a failure to understand history in terms other than “empty time” or “progress.” It signifies, as well, a certain narcissism with regard to one’s past political attachments and identity that exceeds any contemporary investment in political mobilization, alliance, or transformation.1 The irony of melancholia, of course, is that attachment to the object of one’s sorrowful loss supersedes any desire to recover from this loss, to live free of it in the present, to be unburdened by it. This is what renders melancholia a persistent condition, a state, indeed, a structure of desire, rather than a transient response to death or loss. In Freud’s 1917 meditation on melancholia, he reminds us of a second singular feature of melancholia: It entails “a loss of a more ideal kind [than mourning]. The object has not perhaps actually died, but has been lost as an object of love.” Moreover, Freud suggests, the melancholic subject will often not know precisely what about the object has been loved and lost—“this would suggest that melancholia [End Page 20] is in some way related to an object-loss which is withdrawn from consciousness, in contradistinction to mourning, in which there is nothing about the loss that is unconscious.”2 The loss precipitating melancholia is more often than not unavowed and unavowable. Finally, Freud suggests that the melancholic subject—low in self-regard, despairing, even suicidal—has shifted the reproach of the once loved object (a reproach waged for not living up to the idealization by the beloved) onto itself, thus preserving the love or idealization of the object even as the loss of this love is experienced in the suffering of the melancholic. Now why would Benjamin use this term, and the emotional economy it represents, to talk about a particular formation on and of the Left? Benjamin never offers a precise formulation of left melancholy. Rather, he deploys it as a term of opprobrium for those more beholden to certain long-held sentiments and objects than to the possibilities of political transformation in the present. Benjamin is particularly attuned to the melancholic’s investment in “things.” In The Origin of German Tragic Drama, he argues that “melancholy betrays the world for the sake of knowledge,” here suggesting that the loyalty of the melancholic converts its truth (“every loyal vow or memory”) about its beloved into a thing, indeed, imbues knowledge itself with a thinglike quality. Another version of this formulation: “In its tenacious self-absorption [melancholy] embraces dead objects in its contemplation.” More simply, melancholy is loyal “to the world of things,” suggesting a certain logic of fetishism—with all the conservatism and withdrawal from human relations that fetishistic desire implies—contained within the melancholic logic.3 In his critique of Erich Kästner, a left-wing poet from the Weimar Republic, in which he first coins the phrase “left melancholy,” Benjamin suggests that sentiments themselves become things for the left melancholic who “takes as much pride in the traces of former spiritual goods as the bourgeois do in their material goods.”4 We come to love our left passions and reasons, our left analyses and convictions, more than we love the existing world that we presumably seek to alter with these terms or the future that would be aligned with them. Left melancholy, in short, is Benjamin’s [End Page 21] name for a mournful, conservative, backward-looking attachment to a feeling, analysis, or relationship that has been rendered thinglike and frozen in the heart of the putative leftist. If Freud is helpful here, then this condition presumably issues from some unaccountable loss, some unavowably crushed ideal, contemporarily signified by the terms left, socialism, Marx, or movement. Certainly the losses, accountable and unaccountable, of the Left are many in our own time. The literal disintegration of socialist regimes and the legitimacy of Marxism may well be the least of it. We are awash in the loss of a unified analysis and unified movement, in the loss of labor and class as inviolable predicates of political analysis and mobilization, in the loss of an inexorable and scientific forward movement of history, and in the loss of a viable alternative to the political economy of capitalism. And on the backs of these losses are still others: We are without a sense of an international, and often even a local, left community; we are without conviction about the truth of the social order; we are without a rich moral-political vision to guide and sustain political work. Thus, we suffer with the sense of not only a lost movement but a lost historical moment; not only a lost theoretical and empirical coherence but a lost way of life and a lost course of pursuits. This much many on the Left can forthrightly admit, even if we do not know what to do about it. But in the hollow core of all these losses, perhaps in the place of our political unconscious, is there also an unavowed loss—the promise that left analysis and left commitment would supply its adherents a clear and certain path toward the good, the right, and the true? Is it not this promise that formed the basis for much of our pleasure in being on the Left, indeed, for our self-love as leftists and our fellow feeling toward other leftists? And if this love cannot be given up without demanding a radical transformation in the very foundation of our love, in our very capacity for political love or attachment, are we not doomed to left melancholy, a melancholy that is certain to have effects that are not only sorrowful but self-destructive? Freud again: “If the love for the object—a love which cannot be given up though the object itself is given up—takes refuge in narcissistic identification, then the hate comes into operation on this substitutive object, abusing it, debasing it, making it suffer and deriving sadistic satisfaction from its suffering.”5 Now our challenge would be to figure out who or what is this substitutive object. What do we hate that we might preserve the idealization of that romantic left promise? What do we punish that we might save the old guarantees of the Left from our wrathful disappointment? [End Page 22] Two familiar answers emerge from recent quarrels and reproaches on the Left. The first is a set of social and political formations variously known as cultural politics or identity politics. Here the conventional charge from one portion of the Left is that political movements rooted in cultural identity—racial, sexual, ethnic, or gendered—not only elide the fundamental structure of modernity, capitalism, and its fundamental formation, class, but fragment left political energies and interests such that coalition building is impossible. The second culprit also has various names—poststructuralism, discourse analysis, postmodernism, trendy literary theory got up as political analysis. The murder charges here are also familiar: Postfoundational theories of the subject, truth, and social processes undermine the possibility of a theoretically coherent and factually true account of the world, and also challenge the putatively objective grounds of left norms. Together or separately, these two phenomena are held responsible for the weak, fragmented, and disoriented character of the contemporary Left. This much is old news. But if read through the prism of left melancholy, the element of displacement in both sets of charges may appear more starkly, since we would be forced to ask: What aspects of left analysis or orthodoxy have wilted on the vine for its adherents but are safeguarded from this recognition through the scornful attention heaped on identity politics and poststructuralism? Indeed, what narcissistic identification with that orthodoxy is preserved in the lament over the loss of its hold on young leftists and the loss of its potency in the political field? What love for the promises and guarantees that a left analysis once held is preserved, as responsibility for the tattered condition of those promises and guarantees is distributed onto debased others? And do we here also see a certain thingness of the Left take shape, its reification as something that “is,” the fantastical memory that it once “was,” at the very moment that it so clearly is not/one?

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NEG › Cap K Updates › 1NC---Link---Left Melancholy

The 1AC is a form of Left Melancholy that re-inscribes political complacency through nihilism. Their attachment to ideological purity foregoes the opportunity for emancipatory liberation.

Proctor 24 (Hannah Proctor is a Wellcome Trust Research Fellow at the University of Strathclyde in Glasgow, interested in histories and theories of radical psychiatry. She is a member of the editorial collective behind Radical Philosophy, and has been published in Jacobin, Tribune, The New Inquiry and elsewhere. “Burnout: The Emotional Experience of Political Defeat”, Verso Books, April 9, 2024, )//LF

In summer 2017, I went to see Wendy Brown deliver a talk in Berlin on “Apocalyptic Populism” during which she asked, like Hall and Rose before her, why people were drawn to vote for right-wing authoritarians. The first of the three “strains or energies” she identified behind white support for Trump was psychic: “fears and anxieties.” But I was more interested to discover that these two feelings also appear as key terms in her 1999 essay “Resisting Left Melancholy,” and in that earlier essay they are associated with the left rather than the right. She begins the essay by returning to Hall’s writings on Thatcherism and the crisis of the left, asking if it might be possible not only to identify left-wing “fears and anxieties,” as Hall does, but to understand their “content and dynamic.” To do this, she explores the phenomenon of left melancholy. What happens when hope curdles? Left melancholy should not be confused with understandings of melancholia in medicine and psychiatry, which have a complicated history stretching back to ancient Greece. Its origins are more recent and can be traced to Walter Benjamin’s “Left-Wing Melancholy” (1931); a strange review of a book by poet Erich Kästner, it is addressed to a specific phenomenon that Benjamin identifies in the supposedly radical literature of Weimar Germany. Despite proclaiming themselves sympathetic to the working class, poets like Kästner address themselves to a “middle stratum” of readers, producing a body of work Benjamin derides as “the decayed bourgeoisie’s mimicry of the proletariat.” Distant from political action, with “little to do with the labour movement,” writers like Kästner transform political struggles into pleasant objects for the titillation, consumption, and amusement of a bourgeois public, resulting in a nihilistic poetry of “tortured stupidity.” Rather than depicting the masses in anticipation of revolutionary moments, Kästner’s poems, in Benjamin’s analysis, present flabby stereotypes, ignoring the realities of mass unemployment. The left-wing melancholic is a reactionary figure, politically complacent and nihilistic, who would “trample anything or anyone in their path.” Benjamin likens left melancholy to constipation. In Brown’s gloss, which transforms Benjamin’s circumscribed definition of the concept into something more general: “Left melancholy” is “a mournful, conservative, backward-looking attachment to a feeling, analysis, or relationship that has been rendered thinglike and frozen in the heart of the putative leftist.” Left melancholy is not just an incapacity to move on from loss; it involves converting something that had belonged to someone else in the first place into a hollow, deadened thing. Proletarian action is replaced by bourgeois routine. Here, Benjamin’s proximity to Hall is apparent: in his view, the (pseudo) left has become too attached to its outdated and hollow ideological apparatus to apprehend the surging realities of the actual world and its living inhabitants. Brown expresses her fears about the comforts and seductions offered by left melancholy: It is a Left that has become more attached to its impossibility than to its potential fruitfulness, a Left that is most at home dwelling not in hopefulness but in its own marginality and failure, a Left that is thus caught in a structure of melancholic attachment to a certain strain of its own dead past, whose spirit is ghostly, whose structure of desire is backward looking and punishing. Paradoxically, loss itself becomes the lost object. A dusty case is all that remains when its once-sparkling contents have disappeared: “Now the hollow forms are absent-mindedly caressed.” As Benjamin observes, left melancholics are myopic and only position themselves to the left of “what is in general possible.” There is something strange about the temporality of left melancholy. Marx and Engels’s specter haunting Europe counterintuitively came from the future, whereas the left-wing melancholic grieves for the loss of something that was never fully realized. And that ossified grief becomes a permanent political disposition. In Brown’s account, published ten years after the fall of the Berlin Wall, the losses are many—of theories, of movements, of faith, of certainties. Yet her analysis is zoomed out and intellectual, devoid of references to localized struggles or particular instances of defeat. Another twelve years later, Jodi Dean pointed out key differences between Benjamin’s definition of left melancholy and Brown’s: his targets were hacks who peddled revolutionary ideas to a bourgeois audience at the expense of proletarian action (implying the existence of a nonmelancholic left still committed to class struggle), whereas Brown, elaborating on Hall, describes a left clinging to outdated orthodoxies in the absence of ongoing revolutionary movements. Dean’s own diagnosis is different again. She describes a left that has abandoned the totalizing goal of revolution for smaller, more dispersed activities, “sublimat[ing its] goals and responsibilities into the branching, fragmented practices of micro-politics, self-care, and issue awareness.” She proposes that left “melancholia derives from the real existing compromises and betrayals inextricable from its history,” from capitulations and accommodations with capitalist reality as much as from defeats that have external origins. However, in a paper that was first delivered in New York in autumn 2011 and ends with a discussion of Occupy Wall Street, she suggests that times had changed—insufficiently and tentatively but decisively—since Brown’s essay and that a process of collective working through had begun. Indeed, therapeutic questions form part of these historical experiences, whether integrated into political struggles or pursued in response to them. Enzo Traverso’s 2016 book on the concept is more explicit in identifying left-wing melancholia as an epochal condition, but he does not share Dean’s sense that the economic crisis of 2008, the Arab Spring, and the Occupy movement shifted anything. Although he acknowledges that “the history of revolutions is a history of defeats,” he distinguishes the defeats that punctuated the nineteenth and twentieth centuries from the more definitive capitulation marked by the fall of the Berlin Wall. Traverso treats communism as a finished project and speaks of the paralysis of the utopian imagination and the hollowing out of the emancipatory promises of liberation movements of the sixties and seventies. In his account, history has been displaced by memory, meaningful struggle by vapid contemplation. Unlike the revolutionary defeats of the past, which nourished future radical movements, generated pride, and provided an inspirational repertoire from which current revolutionaries could draw, 1989, in Traverso’s view, was not just the end of history but the end of the capacity for people to make their own.

2024 Michigan Kritik
NEG › Cap K Updates › 1NC Link/Alt Solves---Material Action

A refusal mechanism re-entrenches us within a capitalist system — individualized focus obscures real change that can occur through political, material organizing

Anderson 17, Benjamin J., PhD Candidate in the School of Communication at Simon Fraser University (SFU), where his research concerns the intersections of work, neoliberalism, and urban change, 2017-07-01, “Project or Program? Prefigurative Politics, Folk Politics and the Struggle for Change”, “Unmediated: Journal of Politics and Communication”, Accessed July 22, 2024, PW

Recent political campaigns within the mainstream and social democratic left have been billed (both by themselves and others) as ‘revolutionary’. From Podemos to Bernie Sanders’ so-called ’political revolution,’ grassroots movements have mobilised the imagery and rhetoric of collective liberation, bottom-up decision-making, and opposition to the status quo. This political development, which evokes a certain reform-versus-revolution synthesis, stands in stark contrast to the operational logics – namely those of refusal, flight, and experimentation with new forms of social organisation – of autonomous and prefigurative anti-capitalist (or at least counter-neoliberal) social movements of the last two decades, from Quebec’s Maple Spring to Occupy Wall Street and beyond. In this essay, I will attempt to tease out some of the tensions as well as commonalities between these prefigurative projects, and the coordinated policy and cultural programs proposed by proponents of less horizontal forms of political organising. The first stage of this inquiry will probe the anti-power, anti-hegemonic principles that guide much of the discourse that characterises these modes of political intervention and social production. This is followed by a discussion of the limits, especially in terms of reach and mass, that are thought to undermine these prefigurative strategies. Finally, these limits will be weighed against recent calls for organised programs of political plurality based on coordinated efforts at both the cultural and policy level. Before starting down this line of inquiry, however, I would like to introduce two terms that I will utilise throughout this paper to designate each of these political streams: project and program. The term project, in this instance, is intended to encapsulate the experimental, self-generated character of many movements of autonomy. It is intended to emphasise their common underlying goal of the active creation of alternatives. By contrast, the term program is used throughout in relation to coordinated efforts to bring these political projects into closer connection with pre-existing policy and cultural goals. The political program, in this sense, is a compound movement of social production and political organisation that reaches beyond strategies of refusal and attempts to intervene at many points throughout the socio-political landscape, whereas the project stands out as the generation and rearticulation of alternatives in practice. It will be my goal in the pages that follow to clarify this contrast while simultaneously finding points of agreement and harmony that assist in promoting negotiation and coordination between these two strategic positions. To begin, let’s consider some of the underlying principles and characteristics of the prefigurative project. First, the prefigurative experiments of the past two decades – the global justice mobilisations of the late 1990s, the 2010 UK tuition protests, Occupy Wall Street, Hong Kong’s Umbrella Revolution, or more recently, the 2017 campus occupations and student strikes in Puerto Rico – were highly participatory mobilisations from below, often coordinated outside of bureaucratic structures, and generally including some alternative or open form of outreach and narrative framing1. Additionally, in most cases these projects are spatially and/or temporally rooted, taking cues from Bey’s notion of the Temporary Autonomous Zone2 or occupation. Generally speaking, with these movements we observe the intentional creation of alternative modes of social life outside of market relations. In the words of Holloway3 , these projects liberate the human ’power to‘ create from the systems that exercise ’power over’ human creativity and freedom. The goal in this context is not to create an alternative system of power relations but rather to free human socialisation from systems of power writ large. Moreover, in Holloway’s view, these mobilisations can – and often do – challenge capitalist hegemony by exposing and exploiting the cracks in its legitimacy. The Zapatistas4, for instance, continue to operate as a social formation outside and beyond the Mexican state and the conventions of global market relations. At the same time, the Zapatistas organise oppositional actions outside of their zone of autonomy in order to strengthen the communicative dimension to their struggle. These efforts, ranging from the organisation of strike actions to the now-iconic electronic communiques of Subcomondante Marcos, expand their reach and simultaneously inspire the imaginations of activists in disparate regions and cultural contexts We should note as well that the proliferation of prefigurative movements has coincided, in large part, with that of social media, which stands out in its own right as a powerful tool in the evolution of public discourse5. It is easy, of course, to overstate the causal relationship between social media and social movements, to stray close to a kind of blanketed technological determinism. However, as Cammaerts6 argues, such media present new discursive spaces for network building, platform dissemination, and performative outreach, and have become commonplace features in the repertoires of contentious action7 of a wide berth of prefigurative movements. To take but one of the more salient examples, writer and activist Micah White describes the success of Occupy Wall Street at pushing its discursive platform into the mainstream conscience as owing to a form of ‘meme warfare’. According to White, the lasting influence of the movement was contingent upon a decentralised means of message generation, wherein the editors of Adbusters generated the initial idea, which was then circulated and co-opted by a multitude of activists and organisers. This more organic circulation, in White’s view, led to a greater degree of interaction from actors who built the movement to suit their particular needs, rather than requiring them to fall in line behind designated spokespeople and organisers. As White readily acknowledges, for all its affordances, such horizontalism also came with constraints, and revealed the limits of decentralised decision-making for diverse intended outcomes, such that the movement’s ability to articulate any kind of program for change was seriously hampered8. First, however, let us consider how the messaging of these examples interacts with the project of autonomous production of alternatives. Many thinkers9 cite the ideological and pedagogical influence that decentralised, viral communicative strategies has on other activists, ultimately conceiving their impact as one of exemplar rather than of narrative. Day, for instance, posits that the various physical actions of organising – setting up the autonomous zone, creating the counter-public, and generally prefiguring an alternative – serve an ideological function in their own right, by demonstrating an alternative to the conditions of neoliberal global capitalism10. In this way, the physical and communicative activities of such projects inspires what Haiven calls the ‘radical imagination’ - that is, a collective imaginary that develops through the actions and interactions between and within movements11. In the case of Occupy, the development of the radical imagination came about through the movement’s ability to self-organise, sustain a multitude of autonomous activities, and ultimately help generate a diaspora of related movements (among them Strike Debt and Occupy Sandy). In all such cases, prefigurative projects have a markedly communicative dimension. Prefigurative actions - including the occupation of public spaces, the autonomous take-overs of productive facilities, and instances of refusal - simultaneously exist as sites of mass theatre and creation in and of commonality12 . These are experiments which both create real instances of new social organisation and engage the imagination in the abstract work of envisioning egalitarian futures. They are, in other words, simultaneously resistant and generative. Take, for instance, the striking visual spectacle of the so-called Umbrella Revolution in Hong Kong or the telegenic occupations of foreclosed homes throughout the United States in the wake of the housing crisis. The performative force of these actions stems not just from their political motivations, but also from their literal demonstration of alternative ways of being and of organising social life. But to what degree does this process of refusal and generation actually challenge entrenched systems of power? In contrast to the anti-power and anti-hegemony views of commentators like Holloway and Day, Srnicek and Williams question the efficacy of political projects that do not directly intervene in the exercise of political power beyond refusal or protest13. In their Inventing the Future, Srnicek and Williams charge that contemporary movements have stooped to an unexacting manner of thinking and have mobilised what they deem ’folk politics.’ These folk politics according to Srnicek and Williams, are characterised by individualism, an obsession with the strategies of the past, overdetermined localist ethics, and ultimately an unwillingness to do the hard, long-term work of actively challenging structures of power. This mind-set, the argument goes, instils in the Left an expectation of immediate results and forecloses the struggle for a post-capitalist mode of social organisation. In short, so long as it remains tethered to the anvil of folk politics, the prefigurative project remains backward-facing, and succumbs to a simplistic politics of refusal rather than engaging in a proactive program of social and political change.

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NEG › Cap K Updates › 2NC---Links---Identity Politics

Division of people through their identities fails to dismantle the system — affs claims on their individualized, compounded oppression instills capitalistic tendencies used to move up on the economic latter.

Das 23, Raju J., York University, Faculty of Environmental and Urban Change, Toronto, Canada (GRID:grid.21100.32) (ISNI:0000 0004 1936 9430), Mar 2023, Dialectical Anthropology, “Why is identity politics not conducive to achieving sustained social justice?”, Accessed July 22, 2024, PW

Crenshaw (1989) used the metaphor of a crossroads to develop the notion of intersectionality. One road denotes race, another denotes gender, and so on, and they all intersect. This framework is helpful for seeing how distinct axes of oppression compound others (Haider, 2018:7). But ultimately, intersectionality is a scaled-up version of IP. The intersecting roads of single oppressions are all built on sandy surfaces of subjectivity. As an idealist and empiricist framework, IP cannot answer: What is objectively common to the experience of all oppressed groups? Pursuing the roads metaphor, what explains the nature of the surface on which different roads of identity intersect and without which there cannot be roads? What explains whether any road is causally (not morally) more important than another, and how/why they intersect?

The main limitation of IP, including in its intersectionalist incarnation, as a theoretical vehicle for the fight for social justice, stems from it ignoring the alternative theory that social oppression is caused fundamentally by class exploitation and its defense by the state. This theory entails several inter-related aspects. (1) While capital is indifferent to the nature of concrete labor, labor is not, because some kinds of labor are “dirty” (e.g., scavenging) and/or require back-breaking manual exertion. The capitalist system uses oppressed groups to get this sort of work done: The “lowest castes” (Dalits) do stinking, scavenging work in India; racialized immigrants do hard manual work (e.g., strawberry picking) in rich countries. (2) Capitalist employers super-exploit oppressed groups by paying them wages below those paid to others and justify this in terms of their purported inferior status–as if a black man or woman possesses less than one unit of labor power of average quality. (3) Similarly, capitalism’s political system denies these groups access to a social wage (government benefits) and/or full democratic rights, because they are seen as unworthy—as if a racialized immigrant possesses less than a unit of citizenship. Now, these mechanisms (see points 1–3) lead to a major consequence: Dividing common people on the basis of identities undermines their ability to fight both class-exploitation and the state power supporting it, as also efforts to obtain material and other concessions promoting social justice. Consequently, working people themselves use IP to compete for resources and jobs in a society, one where the economic realm is effectively beyond their democratic control. Moreover, as Du Bois (1935) would say, they also use IP as a psychological compensation for their suffering.

2024 Michigan Kritik
NEG › Frame Subtraction › 1NC---Whiteness

We affirm the 1AC minus [insert name’s] reading of it.

Yancy 08 [Black Bodies, White Gazes: The Continuing Significance of Race; George Dewey Yancy is an American philosopher who has been a professor of philosophy at Emory University since fall 2015. He is also a distinguished Montgomery Fellow at Dartmouth College. He is also the editor for Lexington Books' "Philosophy of Race" book series]

The white student’s objection raised the issue of how white interlocutors, when in discussions involving race and racism, may (more than they realize) deploy theory as a way of not being forced to examine aspects of their own white subject position. Indeed, the deployment of theory can function as a form of bad faith. Whiteness, after all, is a master of concealment; it is insidiously embedded within responses, reactions, good intentions, postural gestures, denials, and structural and material orders. Etymologically, the word “insidious” (insidiae) means to ambush—a powerful metaphor, as it brings to mind images and scenarios of being snared and trapped unexpectedly. Whiteness as a form of ambushing is not an anomaly. The operations of whiteness are by no means completely transparent. This is partly what it means to say that whiteness is insidious. The moment a white person claims to have arrived, he/she often undergoes a surprise attack, a form of attack that points to how whiteness ensnares even as one strives to fight against racism. Shannon Sullivan states, “Rather than rest assured that she is effectively fighting white privilege, when engaging in resistance a person needs to continually be questioning the effects of her activism on both self and world.”3 Although there are many white antiracists who do fight and will continue to fight against the operations of white power, and while it is true that the regulatory power of whiteness will invariably attempt to undermine such efforts, it is important that white antiracists realize how much is at stake

2024 Michigan Kritik
NEG › Frame Subtraction › 1NC---Mumble Punk

We affirm the 1AC minus their playing of “Mumble Punk”.

Steward 22(Richie otherwise known as “Hardcore” is a Lightweight Kickboxer coming out of New Zealand. He holds a master’s degree in Art Sociology from the University of Auckland. Excerpt from his thesis to fulfill requirements for his degree, Published by the University of Auckland, 2022. Accessed 7/23/2024)//jliu

Across the survey of songs, lyrics and themes of men’s power over women were pervasive. Sexual conquest over a rival’s partner was common, as was reference to female sexual partners as interchangeable and disposable. Across the sample we identified, “lyrics mirror the street code’s exhortation that men avoid commitment, marriage, and caring for children; instead, women are to be sexually used and then quickly discarded”.102 Singer Chris Brown, convicted of felony assault for his violence against former partner Rhianna, illustrates this anti-fatherhood responsibility sentiment in the song No Guidance, singing, “Before I die I’m tryna fuck you, baby. Hopefully we don’t have no babies I don’t even wanna go back home”.103 Women’s names were never used, rather the word “bitch” was frequently used as a reference to girlfriends and partners. Although this study’s methodology did not centre content analysis, I thought it would be useful on occasion to quantify how frequently certain words or phrases appeared across my sample. Thus, in these brief examples of content analysis, I identified units of analysis that were brief feminised sayings that include one to five words (i.e., short phrases). Of the 50 song sample I analysed, the word “bitch” featured in 34 or roughly 68% of the coded songs. “Bitch” is used to refer directly to a female partner (e.g., “my bitch”) or to feminise and denigrate an enemy an artist had “beef” with. Bragging that having sex with an enemy’s girlfriend or sexual partner (e.g., “Could hit your bitch”104) is also a consistent theme, to showcase sexual prowess, power, and the ability to cuckhold enemies. “’Ey fuck your IG, I put somethin’ on your sonogram”, Young Thug recites, boasting of impregnating his opposition’s partner.105 Sexual conquests over a rival’s women are a repeated lyrical weapon of war. The framing of women as “mine” or “yours” also speaks to sexist notions of possession and a lack of female agency and autonomy. Across the sample, women are described in positions in relation to men. Even songs that are performed by women place female performers in relation to male figures who can provide them with material goods, or emotionless sex. As such, we see a continuing normative presentation of hegemonic masculinity. Women in popular Hip-Hop are objects to be used and disregarded for either a Rapper’s personal sexual gratification, or to emotionally hurt a Rapper’s enemy by betraying them. Men are the primary actors, who have agency, while women remain in a subordinate role. While agency is shown by the female under study, it is still presented in a manner that is acceptable to the dominant gender role order. Female agency is limited to asking for aggressive sex, in the pursuit of sexual gratification, or material goods. Writing about the presentation of women in Hip-Hop’s music videos, Jefferies observes that “Women’s bodies are constantly sexualized and commoditized by the promotional machinery of both independent and corporate hip hop producer… The vast majority of these instances fit squarely within the framework of male supremacy, as women are degraded and cast as disempowered creatures relative to men”.106 We can say the same in the lyrical content of our sample of songs. Women are nameless, faceless, and reduced to their worth as a sexual commodity.

2024 Michigan Kritik
NEG › Frame Subtraction › First Negative Constructive---Abbreviations

We affirm the first affirmative constructive minus their use of abbreviations.

Marcuse Sixty-Four, [Herbert, was a German-American philosopher, social critic, and political theorists associated with the Frankfurt School of Political Theorists. He studied at the University of Freiburg located in the Federal Republic of Germany, where he was awarded a doctoral degree in German literature in nineteen twenty-two Anno Domini. “One Dimensional Man: Studies in the Ideology of Advanced Industrial Society” was published in the year nineteen sixty-four Anno Domini by the Beacon Press in the United States of America. Accessed on July twenty-third, twenty twenty-four Anno Domini]

Note on abridgment. NATO, SEATO, UN, AFL-CIO, AEC, but also USSR, DDR, etc. Most of these abbreviations are perfectly reasonable and justified by the length of the unabbreviated designata. However, one might venture to see in same of them a "cunning of Reason"-the abbreviation may help to repress undesired questions. NATO does not suggest what North Atlantic Treaty Organization says, namely, a treaty among the nations on the North-Atlantic- in which case one might ask questions about the membership of Greece and Turkey. USSR abbreviates Socialism and Soviet; DDR: democratic. UN dispenses with undue emphasis on "united"; SEATO with those Southeast-Asian countries which do not belong to it. AFL-CIO entombs the radical political differences which once separated the two organizations, and AEC is just one administrative agency among many others. The abbreviations denote that and only that which is institutionalized in such a war that the transcending connotation is cut off. The meaning is fixed, doctored, loaded. Once it has become an official vocable, constantly repeated in general usage, "sanctioned" by the intellectuals, it has lost all cognitive value and serves merely for recognition of an unquestionable fact. This style is of an overwhelming concreteness. The "thing identified with its function" is more real than the thing distinguished from its function, and the linguistic expression of this identification (in the functional noun, and in the many forms of syntactical abridgment) creates a basic vocabulary and syntax which stand in the way of differentiation, separation, and distinction. This language, which constantly imposes images, militates against the development and expression of concepts. In its immediacy and directness, it impedes conceptual thinking; thus, it impedes thinking. For the concept does not identify the thing and its function. Such identification may well be the legitimate and perhaps even the only meaning of the operational and technological concept, but operational and technological definitions are specific usages of concepts for specific purposes. Moreover, they dissolve concepts in operations and exclude the conceptual intent which is opposed to such dissolution. Prior to its operational usage, the concept denies the identification of the thing with its function; it distinguishes that which the thing is from the contingent functions of the thing in the established reality. The prevalent tendencies of speech, which repulse these distinctions, are expressive of the changes in the modes of thought discussed in the earlier chapters-the functionalized, abridged and unified language is the language of one-dimensional thought. In order to illustrate its novelty, I shall contrast it briefly with a classical philosophy of grammar which transcends the behavioral universe and relates linguistic to ontological categories. According to this philosophy, the grammatical subject of a sentence is first a "substance" and remains such in the various states, functions, and qualities which the sentence predicates of the subject. It is actively or passively related to its predicates but remains different from them. If it is not a proper noun, the subject is more than a noun: it names the concept of a thing, a universal which the sentence de- fines as in a particular state or function. The grammatical subject thus carries a meaning in excess of that expressed in the sentence. In the words of Wilhelm von Humboldt: the noun as grammatical subject denotes something that "can enter into certain relationships," but is not identical with these relationships. Moreover, it remains what it is in and "against" these relationships; it is their "universal" and substantive core. The propositional synthesis links the action (or state) with the subject in such a manner that the subject is designated as the actor (or bearer) and thus is distinguished from the state or function in which it happens to be. In saying: "lightning strikes," one "thinks not merely of the striking lightning, but of the lightning itself which strikes," of a subject which "passed into action." And if a sentence gives a definition of its subject, it does not dissolve the subject in its states and functions, but defines it as being in this state, or exercising this function. Neither disappearing in its predicates not existing as an entity before and outside its predicates, the subject constitutes itself in its predicates-the result of a process of mediation which is expressed in the sentence. I have alluded to the philosophy of grammar in order to illuminate the extent to which the linguistic abridgments indicate an abridgment of thought which they in turn fortify and promote. Insistence on the philosophical elements in grammar, on the link between the grammatical, logical, and ontological "subject," points up the contents which are suppressed in the functional language, barred from expression and communication. Abridgment of the concept in fixed images; arrested development in self-validating, hypnotic formulas; immunity against contradiction; identification of the thing (and of the person) with its function-these tendencies reveal the one-dimensional mind in the language it speaks. If the linguistic behavior blocks conceptual development, if it militates against abstraction and mediation, if it surrenders to the immediate facts, it repels recognition of the factors behind the facts, and thus repels recognition of the facts, and of their historical content. In and for the society, this organization of functional discourse is of vital importance; it serves as a vehicle of coordination and subordination. The unified, functional language is an irreconcilably anti-critical and anti-dialectical language. In it, operational and behavioral rationality absorbs the transcendent, negative, oppositional elements of Reason. I shall discuss these elements in terms of the tension between the "is" and the "ought," between essence and appearance, potentiality and actuality-ingression of the negative in the positive determinations of logic. This sustained tension permeates the two-dimensional universe of discourse which is the universe of critical, abstract thought. The two dimensions are antagonistic to each other; the real- ity partakes of both of them, and the dialectical concepts develop the real contradictions. In its own development, dialectical thought came to comprehend the historical character of the contradictions and the process of their mediation as historical process. Thus the ,other" dimension of thought appeared to be historical dimension-the potentiality as historical possibility, its realization as historical event. The suppression of this dimension in the societal universe of operational rationality is a suppression of history, and this is not an academic but a political affair. It is suppression of the society's own past-and of its future, inasmuch as this future invokes the qualitative change, the negation of the present. A universe of discourse in which the categories of freedom have become interchangeable and even identical with their opposites is not only practicing Orwellian or Aesopian language hut is repulsing and for- getting the historical reality-the horror of fascism; the idea of socialism; the preconditions of democracy; the content of freedom. If a bureaucratic dictatorship rules and defines communist society, if fascist regimes are functioning as partners of the Free World, if the welfare program of enlightened capitalism is successfully defeated by labeling it "socialism," if the foundations of democracy are harmoniously abrogated in democracy, then the old historical concepts are invalidated by up-to-date operational redefinitions. The re- definitions are falsifications which, imposed by the powers that be and the powers of fact, serve to transform falsehood into truth. The functional language is a radically anti-historical language: operational rationality has little room and little use for historical reason. Is this fight against history part of the fight against a dimension of the mind in which centrifugal faculties and forces might develop-faculties and forces that might hinder the total coordination of the individual with the society? Remembrance of the Fast may give rise to dangerous insights, and the established society seems to be apprehensive of the subversive contents of memory. Remembrance is a mode of dissociation from the given facts, a mode of "mediation" which breaks, for short i"1 moments, the omnipresent power of the given facts. Memory recalls the terror and the hope that passed. Both come to life again, hut whereas in reality, the former recurs in ever new forms, the latter remains hope. And in the personal events which reappear in the individual memory, the fears and aspirations of mankind assert themselves-the universal in the particular. It is history which memory preserves. It succumbs to the totalitarian power of the behavioral universe: Das "Schreckbild einer Menschheit ohne Erinnenmg . . . ist kein blosses Verfallsprodukt. . . sondern es ist mit der Fortschrittlichkeit des bürgerlichen Prinzips notwendig verknüpft." "Oekonomen und Soziologen wie Werner Sombart und Max Weber haben das Prinzip des Traditionalismus den feudalen Gesellschaftsformen zugeordnet und das der Rationalität den bürgerlichen. Das sagt aber nicht weniger, als dass Erinnerung, Zeit, Gedächtnis von der fortschreitenden bürgerlichen Gesellschaft selber als eine Art irrationaler Rest liquidiert wird . . .”

2024 Michigan Kritik
NEG › Frame Subtraction › 1NC---Disabled

We affirm the 1AC minus their use of the term “disabled”.

Anna 10 AWP: “The Disabled” By Anna on 18 June, 2010

The short form of why this is a problem: People with disabilities/the disabled are not a collective group that all agree on anything. Asking what “the disabled” want or “the disabled” are doing is exactly like asking what “women” want and what “women” are doing. Women are individuals. Some of them are women with disabilities! We don’t all want the same things, but grouping everyone under the same umbrella, as though we are a Collective rather than Individuals With Opinions and Needs is… well, it’s pretty damned ableist, as well as being arrogant, ignorant, and irritating. Long Version: We’re still living in a society that makes a lot of casual assumptions about people with disabilities and their experiences. When people start talking about “the disabled” they are generally about to launch into some sort of stereotype – “the disabled are the pawns of the religious right”, for example. This boils down a lot of complicated people – people who have a wide variety of needs, wants, opinions, thoughts, and experiences – into one homogeneous group. This contributes to the de-humanization of disabled people. “The disabled” aren’t people, they’re a big collective noun who can’t be reasoned with, can’t be talked to, can’t be considered – they’re just to be placated, and dealt with, and put out of our minds as quickly as possible in case they sue us. Saying “people with disabilities” or “disabled people” may seem like a pretty minor thing. It is, so it shouldn’t be that difficult. The reason for it, though, is that it can be that small reminder: that people with disabilities are people. That disabled people have opinions and thoughts and experiences and needs that are not universal to all people with disabilities. That we are, in fact, people, and it would be nice if we could be treated as such. Language doesn’t change everything. It isn’t an end in and of itself. But it can be the first step in combating the sort of ableism that makes it okay for many people – including editors and writers for major and minor news sources – to dismiss us as pawns without thought.

2024 Michigan Kritik
NEG › Frame Subtraction › 1NC---Ballot

We affirm the 1AC minus their call for the ballot.

Phillips 99 – Dr. Kendall R. Phillips, Professor of Communication at Central Missouri State University, PhD in Speech Communication from Pennsylvania State University, MA in Speech Communication from Central Missouri State University, BS in Psychology and Sociology from Southwest Baptist University, “Rhetoric, Resistance, and Criticism: A Response to Sloop and Ono”, Philosophy & Rhetoric, Volume 32, Number 1, p. 96-101

My concern with this movement centers around an issue that Sloop and Ono seem to take as a given, namely, the role of the critic. On one hand, calling for the systematic investigation of existing marginalized discourses is a natural extension both of critical rhetoric (see McKerrow 1989, 1991) and of the general ideological turn in criticism (see Wander 1983). On the other hand, the ease of transition from criticism in the service of resistance to criticism of resistance may obscure the need to address some fundamental issues regarding the general function of rhetorical criticism in an uncertain and contentious world. Beyond licensing the critic to engage in political struggle, Sloop and Ono advocate the pursuit of covert resistant discourses. Such a move not only stretches our understanding of rhetoric and criticism, but also alters significantly the relationship between critic and out- law. Critical interrogation of dominant discursive practices in the service of political/cultural reform is supplanted in favor of positioning covert out- law communities as objects of investigation. Invited to seek out subversive discourses, the critic is positioned as the active agent of change and the out-law discourse becomes merely instrumental. Rather than academic criticism acting in service of everyday acts of resistance, everyday acts of resistance are put into the service of academic criticism. Rhetorical resistance That we are "caught within conflicting logics of justice that are culturally struggled over" (Sloop and Ono 1997, 50) and that rhetoric is employed in these struggles seems an uncontroversial statement. Despite the theoretical miasma surrounding judgment, Sloop and Ono accurately note, the material process of rendering judgments (and of disputing the logics of litigation) continues in the world of actually practiced discourse. In the materially contested world, rhetoric is utilized both by those seeking to secure the grounds of dominant judgment and by those seeking to undermine or supplant dominant cultural logics with some out-law notion of justice. The distinction between these two cultural groups, "in-law" and out- law, however, deserves some consideration prior to any discussion of the role of the critic as implied in the out-law discourse project. The discourse of the dominant or those within the bounds of superordinate logics of litigation is reminiscent of Michel De Certeau's (1984) strategic discourse. For De Certeau, strategies are utilized by those who have authority by virtue of their proper position. Strategies exploit the institutionally guaranteed background consensus by which power relations (and litigations) are maintained and advanced. In contrast, tactics are utilized by those having no proper place of authority within the discursive economy who must seek opportunities whereby the discourse of the dominant might be undermined and contested. To extend Sloop and Ono's definition, out-law discourses are those that can (and, by their analysis, do) take advantage of situations (e.g., race riots) to disrupt the regularity of dominant cultural groups. The ongoing struggle between strategically instituted cultural dominants and the "out-law always lurk[ing] in the distance" (66) is acknowledged, even celebrated, by Sloop and Ono. What their acknowledgment fails to provide, however, is a clear need for critical intervention. Indeed, quite the reverse is presented: It is the critic (particularly the left-leaning critic) who needs out-law discourse. While the struggles over justice, equality, and freedom have gone on, the left-leaning critics are those who have theoretically excluded themselves from the disputes. The study of out-law dis- courses, then, provides a means to reinvigorate the intellectual and re-institute (academic) leftist thinking into popular political struggles (53-54). Thus, Sloop and Ono's project incorporates three types of rhetoric: the rhetoric of the in-law, presumably the traditional object of critical attention; the rhetoric of the out-law, the study of which may transform our understanding of judgment as well as reinvigorate leftist democratic critiques; and the rhetoric of the critics who, having lost their political po- tency, can exploit the discourse of the out-law to promote ideological struggles. It is to this critical rhetoric that I now turn. Resistance criticism Sloop and Ono (1997) clearly state the relationship they envision between the rhetorical critic and out-law discourse: "Ultimately, we will argue that the role of critical rhetoricians is to produce 'materialist conceptions of judgment,' using out-law judgments to disrupt dominant logics of judgment" (54; emphasis added). Here the critic seeks out vernacular discourse (60), focuses on the methods and values embodied in these communities (62), listens to and evaluates the out-law community (62-63), and chooses appropriate discourses for the purpose of disrupting dominant practices (63). Essentially, it is the critic who seeks out marginalized discourses and returns them to the center for the purpose of provoking dominant cultural groups (63). Despite acknowledging the efficacy of out-law discourses, Sloop and Ono assume that the critiques generated and presented by the out-law community have only minimal effect. The irony, and indeed arrogance, of this assumption is evident when they claim: "There are cases, however, when, without the prompting of academic critics, out-law discourses serve local purposes at times and at others resonate within dominant discourses, disrupting sedimented ways of thinking, transforming dominant forms of judgment" (60; emphasis added). Sloop and Ono seem to suggest that such locally generated critiques are the exception, whereas the political efficacy of the academic critic is the rule. This seems an odd claim, given that the justification for their out-law discourse project is the lack of politically viable academic critique and the perceived potency of out-law conceptions of judgment. Their suggestion that out-law communities are in need of the academic critic contradicts not only the already disruptive nature of existing out-law discourses (the grounds for using out-law discourse), but also the impotence of contemporary critical discourse (the warrant for studying out-law discourse). By this I do not mean that the critiques and theories generated by academically instituted intellectuals have not been incorporated into subversive discourses. Just as out-law discourses inevitably mount critiques of dominant logics, so, too, the perspectives on rhetoric and criticism generated by academics are used in resistance movements. Feminist critiques of patriarchy, queer theories of homophobia, postcolonial interrogations of race have found their way into the service of resistant groups. The key distinction I wish to make is that the existence of criticism (academic or self-generated) in resistance does not necessitate Sloop and Ono's move to a criticism of resistance. What Sloop and Ono fail to offer is an adequate argument for "taking public speaking out of the streets and studying it in the classroom, for treating it less as an expression of protest" (Wander 1983, 3) and more as an object for analysis and reproduction within the political economy of the academy. Philip Wander made a similar charge against Herbert Wicheln's early critical project, and this concern should remain at the forefront of any discussion aimed at expanding the scope and function of criticism. Sloop and Ono offer numerous directives for the critic without addressing whether the critic should be examining out-law discourses in the first place. While it is too early to suggest any definitive answer to the question of criticism of resistance, some preliminary arguments as to why critics should not pursue out-law discourses can be offered: (1) Hidden out-law discourses may have good reasons to stay hidden. Sloop and Ono specifically instruct us that "the logic of the out-law must constantly be searched for, brought forth" (66) and used to disrupt dominant practices. But are we to believe that all out-law discourses are prepared to mount such a challenge to the dominant cultural logic? Or, indeed, that the members of out-law communities are prepared to be brought into the arena of public surveillance in the service of reconstituting logics of litigation? It seems highly unlikely that all divergent cultural groups have developed equally, or that all members of these groups share Sloop and Ono's "imperial impulse" (51) to promote their conceptions and practices of justice. (2) Academic critical discourse is not transparent. Here I allude to the overall problem of translation (see Foucault 1994; Lyotard 1988; Lyotard and Thebaud 1985; Zabus 1995) as an extension of the previous concern. Critical discourse cannot become the medium of commensurability for divergent language games. Are we to believe that the "use" of out-law dis- course by critics to disrupt dominant practices can fail to do violence to these diverse/divergent logics? Are out-law discourses merely tools to be exploited and discarded in the pursuit of returning leftist academic dis- course to the center? (3) Perhaps the academic translation of out-law discourse could be true to the internal logic of the out-law community. And, perhaps the re-presentation of out-law logic within the academic community will bestow a degree of legitimacy on the out-law community. Nonetheless, the effect of legitimizing out-law discourse is unknown and potentially destructive. In an effort to siphon the political energy of out-law discourse into academic practice, we may ultimately destroy the dissatisfaction that serves as a cathexis for these out-law discourses. It seems possible that academic recognition might take the place of struggle for material opportunities (see Fraser 1997). But, will academic legitimation create any material changes in the conditions of out-law communities? I mean to suggest, not that it is better to allow the out-law community to suffer for its cause, but rather that incorporating the struggle into an (admittedly) impotent academic critique does not offer a prima facie alternative. (4) Criticism of resistance denies the practical and theoretical importance of opportunity. Returning to De Certeau's notion of tactics, the crucial element of these discursive moves is their use of opportunity to disrupt the proper authority of the dominant. The kairos of intervention provides the key to undermining "in-law" discourses. But when is the "right moment in time" for the academic reproduction of out-law discourse? Mapping the points of resistance (ala Foucault and Biesecker) entails interrogating "in-law" discourses for their incongruities and contradictions, not turning the academic gaze upon those communities waiting for an opportunity. Out-laws do not lurk in the forefront (66), hoping to be exposed by academic critics; they wait for the right moment for their disruption. Rhetoricians can provide rhetorical instructions for seeking opportunities and for exploiting these opportunities (literally making the culturally weaker argument the stronger), but this does not justify interrogating (intervening in) the cultural logics of the marginalized. The concerns raised here are not designed to dismiss Sloop and Ono's provocative essay. The divergent critical logic they outline deserves careful consideration within the critical community, and it is my hope that the concerns I raise may help to further problematize the relationship between resistance and rhetorical criticism. Rhetorical criticism As I have suggested, my purpose is to use the provocative nature of Sloop and Ono's project to extend disputes regarding the ends of rhetorical criticism. Diverging perspectives on the ends of criticism have been categorized by Barbara Warnick (1992) as falling along four general lines: artist, analyst, audience, and advocate. Leah Ceccarelli (1997) discerns similar categories around the aesthetic, epistemic, and political ends of rhetorical criticism. The out-law discourse project presents clear ties to the notion of critic as advocate. For Sloop and Ono, the critic is an interested party, discerning (and at times disputing) the underlying values and forces contained within a discourse. Additionally, however, the out-law discourse critic is an analyst focusing on the hidden, aberrant texts of the out-law and "rendering] an incoherent or esoteric text comprehensible" (Warnick 1992, 233). Now, I am not suggesting that a critic must serve only one function or that the roles of advocate and analyst are mutually exclusive; rather, these entanglings of power (political ends) and knowledge (epistemic ends) are inevitable. My concern is that we not neglect the complexity of these entanglements. Turning covert out-law discourses into objects of our analyses runs the risk of subjecting them both to the gaze of the dominant and to the power relations of the academy. As the works of Michel Foucault (especially 1979, 1980) aptly illustrate, practices presented as extending such noble goals as emancipation and humanity may endow institutions of confinement and objectification. Any justification for studying out-law dis- course because doing so may extend our political usefulness in the pursuit of emancipatory goals must not obscure the already existing power relations authorizing such studies. Our attempts to extend our domains of knowledge and expertise (authority) must not be pursued unreflexively.

2024 Michigan Kritik
NEG › Frame Subtraction › 1NC---Gregorian Dating

We affirm the entirety of the 1AC minus their use of Gregorian Dating.

Yunseong, Pramādhi (current cycle) -- Seoul National University lecturer [Kim, researcher at the Association for the Study of Religions in Korea, “Protestant Missions as Cultural Imperialism in Early Modern Korea – Hegemony and its Discontents,” Korea Journal, 39.4, researcher at the Association for the Study of Religions in Korea, https://web.archive.org/web/20141018094409/https://www.ekoreajournal.net/sysLib/down.php?file=../UPLOAD/T_articles/PDF39410, accessed Durmukhi, current cycle]

In order to do so, we must regard Protestant missions as a pro - ject of cultural imperialism. Cultural imperialism is defined as “attitudes, theories, and practices that dominate realms afar through culture.”3 It has its basis in the “Orientalism” of Western societies which makes non-Western societies the other. Orientalism is not merely an ideology following an actual political program. It is rather a more tenacious and cunning force that adheres to the heart of power and exercises influence in accordance with the workings of power. It is a system of cultural apparatuses and discourses that confines the nonWestern world within the enclosure of domination before the establishment of empire and colony.4 It is the power of cultural hegemony that endows Orientalism with durability and effectiveness.5 Therefore, cultural imperialism has nothing to do with the direct dominance of an empire. Its hegemony can be exerted merely by means of a book, a picture, or an article. In fact, as such cultural apparatuses are numerous and dispersed in everyday life, cultural hegemony dominates non-Western societies with a much stronger force than political, economic, or military control. Western modernity, as the spirit of imperialism, pours into non-Western societies and begins to dominate them. Hospitals, schools, and churches built by Protestant missionaries were important waterways for the influx and spread of modernity. They were crucial apparatuses for the work of imperial cultural hegemony: in the fields of medicine dealing with body and disease, of education relating to knowledge and learning, and of religious beliefs and practices. Therefore, we will explore, on the levels of episteme and of everyday life, how hospitals, schools, and churches functioned as the waterways through which Western modernity arrived and disseminated, and how each took part in the production of imperial cultural hegemony. But Koreans in this transitional period were not overwhelmed by the spectacle of imperial hegemony. In fact, they showed certain reactions against such hegemony. While recognizing the need to accept Western modernity, they rejected or countered the forces and effects of hegemony. Therefore, we will examine what shapes the rejections and responses took, and what implications they had. II. Apparatuses of Cultural Imperialism and Their Effects “Christianization” and the “civilizing mission” were the two axes of Protestant missions. The ultimate goal was, of course, Christianization. In Korea, however, as it was forbidden to introduce foreign religions, missionaries could not reveal their intentions. As a result, they tried to use the civilization strategy, an indirect missionary method which foregrounded hospitals and schools. Missionary work began in (Tāraṇa) when R. S. Maclay, a Methodist missionary, received permission to build hospitals and schools from King Kojong, and H. N. Allen, a Presbyterian missionary, set about providing medical service. In (Tāraṇa), Allen built Chejungw¡n (House of Universal Helpfulness), the first modern hospital which was established in a renovated traditional house. From (Tāraṇa) to (Vyaya), other missionaries such as Wm. B. Scranton, Mrs. Scranton, H. G. Appenzeller, H. G. Underwood, and A. J. Ellers also arrived and built hospitals and schools. On the basis laid by their predecessors, more missionaries came in and built hospitals and schools all around the country after the (Vikṛti). As direct missionary activity was allowed to continue, churches spread through out the whole country.6 Wherever they went, missionaries always built a hospital first, then a school, and finally a church. For them, the hospital was “a plough rooting out prejudices and preparing a ready soil for mission” and the school was “a harrow tilling and leveling the soil.” Realizing that “although Koreans do not want Protestantism, they want Western civilization and science,” missionaries thought “if we prove that Western civilization and science are the gift of Protestantism and its material benefit, we shall have an opportunity to tell about Christ.” As such, healing or teaching was a kind of bait.7 Hospitals and schools were not mere means of mission. Civilization was in itself the cornerstone of mission. Because for missionaries this “hermit nation”8 was “a land nobody has ever touched” and “a place covered with the darkness of pagans.”9 Therefore, it was a natural conclusion that “both gospel and civilization [were] desperately needed in [a] Korea that is captivated by superstition and ignorance.”10 In the images of Orientalism, juxtaposing “un-civilizedness,” ignorance, and barbarity on the one hand, and paganism and superstition on the other, the “civilizing mission” became one of the two faces of the mission. Consequently, as a means of either proselytization or “civilization,” hospitals and schools built by missionaries were visible representations of modern Western civilization and therefore functioned as waterways through which Western modernity arrived and disseminated. What about churches? Was not evangelical Protestantism an island of pre-modernity in the ocean of the modern world? Was it not the vanguard of anti-enlightenment and anti-modernism? Of course, it was, but that was not all. Because pre-modernity or anti-modernism was firmly placed within the inclusive project of modernity. Protestantism was not a total rejection of modernity itself, but merely a specific way of accepting and responding to modernity.11 However, in missionary fields like Korea, the pre- and anti-modernity of Protestantism were completely concealed. Protestantism was presented only as a part of the modern world. In addition, when protestantism was combined with schools and hospitals, churches become none other than strategic bases for the civilizing mission and, as a result, functioned as waterways for the spread of Western modernity. Being waterways for the influx and spread of Western modernity, hospitals, schools, and churches built by Protestant missionaries functioned as apparatuses for expanding the cultural hegemony of imperialism. How was this possible and what effects did they produce in relation to cultural imperialism? 1. The Spread of the Modern Episteme and the Collapse of the Traditional Episteme The apparatuses of cultural imperialism initiated and accelerated the spread of the modern episteme on the one hand, and the collapse of the traditional episteme on the other. The modern episteme is a product of the Enlightenment project that places the rational human being at the center of the world. According to this concept, man is the only subject who is able to recognize truth in the world and in himself through reason. From this, there appears a subject/object dichotomy, distinguishing I from the rest. It also generates other dichotomies such as culture/nature, mind /material, spirit/body, and rationality/irrationality. The subject, “I,” makes the “rest” objects of recognition and conquest. Consequently, the body comes to be seen as a sort of machine, and disease as certain disorders within that machine. Learning becomes an activity of exploring the so-called truth about the human mind or material world. And as the outer realm of nature, unrecognizable by reason, is named the supernatural, religion is relegated to the realm of the supernatural and to irrational inner emotions. All of these are parts of the modern episteme as a whole.12 The modern episteme was introduced and disseminated through diverse waterways, among which hospitals, schools, and churches played an important role. In hospitals, the success of modern Western medicine flaunted the validity of the modern view of the body and the superiority of Western medicine. In schools, modern learning was emphasized as the only way of grasping universal truth. In churches, Christianity was taught as the best and the only religion suitable for the modern world. Furthermore, these processes usually intertwined with one another. Pamphlets on hygienic knowledge were distributed not only in hospitals but also in schools and churches. In schools there were classes dealing with hygiene and students were examined to see if their physical condition was sanitary. Medical schools attached to hospitals were also important educational institutions, and churches functioned as quasi-schools for those who could not attend proper schools. Finally, as the missionaries expected from the beginning, Christianity was taught to non-Christians in hospitals and schools as the supreme religion. In such ways, hospitals, schools, and churches functioned as complicated waterways for the dissemination of the modern episteme. With the spread of the modern episteme, the traditional episteme came to be recognized as obsolete. According to the scheme of indigenous Korean medicine, diseases were thought to be caused by the disharmony of yin and yang within one’s body. Here, the body was a microcosm, corresponding to the universe. In folk religions like shamanism, diseases were regarded as being caused by superhuman agents. The body was part of a larger organic world including both the natural and the supernatural, and both the living and the dead.13 The ultimate goal of traditional learning was to acquire the virtues of a gentleman as the moral ideal of Neo-Confucianism. Studying for official examinations or acquiring technological knowledge was not included in the criteria of genuine learning. The only learning was to realize the primal principle within things and human beings.14 Lastly, in traditional society, diverse religions overlapped one another and were not separated from other areas of life. Besides, there existed no universal conceptual category of r e l i g i o n that encompassed all religions and established a hierarchy among them.1 5 However, as the traditional episteme was thought to be incompatible with Western modernity, it was slowly replaced with the modern episteme by those who accepted Western modernity. As a result, there appeared the modern subject/object dichotomy, regarding man as the subject “that dominates everything with reason” and nature as “a part of the universe outside man.” Futhermore, there appeared a mechanical concept of the body, regarding it as a “thing” or “a machine,” and a modern etiology regarding disease as “being caused by outer factors.” There also appeared the modern concept of learning, which is divided into “that of subjective human phenomena and that of material natural phenomena,” and that attaches greater importance to the latter, i.e. natural science as the “control and utilization of nature.” Lastly, there appeared the modern concept of religion, relating religion to the supernatural or to the inner emotions of man, according to which the object of belief is defined as “limitless and perfect,” and the root of religion is found “within the innate religiosity of humans.”16 Such discourses, which were generated and disseminated by intellectuals, show that the modern episteme had already become dominant at the expense of the traditional episteme. This process was accelerated by hospitals, schools, and churches. In accordance with the increase of modern hospitals, indigenous doctors and shamans slowly decreased. As more and more modern schools were built, more and more traditional schools were abolished. As churches increased and the modern concept of religion was established, both traditional religions like Confucianism, Buddhism, and folk religions, and indigenous new religions like Tonghak (Eastern Learning), came to be considered inferior to the Western religion of Christianity. Such changes instigated the atrophy of the traditional episteme. The changes, of course, were neither completed in a day nor caused by hospitals, schools, or churches alone. All modern institutions, apparatuses, discourses, and practices were connected with these changes. For a strong and wealthy nation, control over population and labour was needed, the basis of which was the modern medical and health care system. In order to develop education and industry, modern learning and an educational system were required. And for the awakening of people, modern philosophy, ethics, and religion were indispensable. Hospitals, schools, and churches were no more than parts of such modern institutions, apparatuses, discourses, and practices. Nevertheless, missionaries accelerated the peripherization of the traditional episteme in a unique way: they produced and disseminated critical discourses of the traditional world view and life-style. They criticized indigenous medicine as irrational. They thought that “in the light of reason, Korean medicine is ridiculous and useless” and that “Korean doctors are quacks who increase suffering through fake healing skills.” They degraded shamanic ritual as “a drama of fraud” and shamans as “swindlers,” “witches,” “defrauders” and “hysterical and foolish women only interested in money making through the shamanic profession.” They also delineated the religious situation of Korea as “a motley assortment of diverse religions.” Especially, with their negative opinion of folk beliefs, they regarded shamanism as “demon worship” and tutelary posts as “devils with frightful protruding teeth.” Their enmity against folk beliefs stiffened further when they found “the beliefs were exerting enormous influence and causing Koreans to dread spiritual beings.” Furthermore, missionaries criticized traditional education as “the very cause of the collapse of Korea.”17 Such denunciations were no more than ethnocentric and Christianity-centered prejudices adopting the traditional episteme and lifestyle to the matrix of Western modernity. But as their influence was enormous, Koreans soon began to reproduce the same critical dis- courses for themselves. For example, it is not difficult to find writings produced by Koreans such as the following: “Korean doctors do not know the structure of the human body. . . . Having no idea of the positions and functions of blood vessels or entrails, of the relations between symptoms and visceral disorders, and of the chemical traits or effects of medicines, they give medicine and apply acupuncture at random. This pushes people into danger”; “Civilized nations became wealthy and strong by means of science, but uncivilized nations became poor because they ignored science”; “stupid women are being deceived by shamans.”18 Such descriptions show that Koreans themselves were reproducing the criticisms of Westerners with little modification. The appearance of such self-critical discourses is a symptom of the modern episteme, as the basis of Western modernity, being accepted by Koreans themselves. Now Western modernity began to spread not only through the main waterways of hospitals, schools, and churches, but also through other minor waterways dug by the very hands of Koreans. The cultural hegemony of empire overflows along a complicated web of waterways. 2. Modern Spatial Structure and the Network of Surveillance and Control The second effect of the apparatuses of cultural imperialism was that they contributed to the construction of a network of modern surveillance and control. The network covering modern societies originates from specific spaces that make the surveillant gaze invisible, spaces such as hospitals, schools, churches, military bases, and factories.19 Equipped with such spatial structures, hospitals, schools, and churches built by missionaries became strands out of which the network of surveillance and control was weaved. Let us look at the hospital first. Indigenous clinics of Korean medicine had a simple structure in which a doctor took charge of almost all roles from preparing medicines to consulting patients. In modern hospitals, by contrast, all roles and procedures are differentiated and the spatial structure of the hospital is functionally divided.20 In the modern space devised for effective management of diseases, an invisible surveillant gaze of medical power falls upon the bodies of patients. What is noticeable in the hospital is the emergence of wards. Indigenous clinics had no wards. Usually staying at home, patients were not isolated from their usual space. Sickness was an everyday event. By contrast, in modern hospitals, with wards, patients are separated from their usual space and thrown into an unusual space. As hospitalization is an extraordinary event, a sickroom becomes a liminal space in which a ritual transformation is already in progress. Within the unusual space and time of a rite de passage, patients undergo symbolic death.21 By making sickness into an unusual event, hospitals now become a new sacred place in the modern world where doctors reign as secular priests. And from that space the gaze of medical power begins to stretch outward. What then about schools? In the traditional private elementary schools called s ¡ d a n g, students usually sat around a teacher in a semi-circle. The gaze of the teacher was fixed at the same level and facing the gazes of the students. As this gaze of surveillance was clearly visible, the s¡dang was an open and loose space in which students could escape visible surveillance. But in the case of modern schools, the situation is different. While students’ gazes are fixed toward the front, the teacher’s gaze is lifted up and, without being fixed, is dispersed here and there, in and out of the classroom. As it is impossible to foretell where the teacher’s gaze will be oriented, the gaze becomes invisible. Under the invisible gaze of d i s c i p l i n a r y power, students come to supervise one another and, in the end, internalize the gaze to survey themselves. Therefore, the space of the modern classroom is a closed one. Now, the disciplinary gaze coming from the classroom disperses all around the school as a sort of panopticon and begins to stretch to the outer world. Churches also had a modern spatial structure. Let us compare it with the space of shamanic ritual. Shamanic ritual space took the form of a circle from which people watched the shaman’s ritual dance and took part in the ritual process through prayer. People felt the emanation of sacred power from the shaman’s body at the center. On the contrary, church buildings are usually built in a rectangular shape, the space of which is divided into a pulpit in front and congregational seats in the rear. The pulpit is the source of God’s word and bliss. From behind the pulpit, the invisible God of Christian monotheism looks down on believers with His all-seeing eyes. The gaze of God becomes the gaze of invisible pastoral power. On the other hand, churches began to reorganize the map of sacredness. In the past, there existed numerous sacred places and sacredness was never fixed in a single place. If it had been sanctified and purified, any place could become a sacred place and a ritual space. Churches fixed sacredness to specific places. Repelling other indigenous sacred places, churches presented themselves as the only centers of sacredness in a disenchanted world. From these centers the gaze of pastoral power slowly emerged. The surveillant gazes flowing out of hospitals, schools, and churches were entangled with the networks of surveillance and control that were being woven by diverse modern institutions, discourses, and practices. Gazes from hospitals were entangled with the network of the modern health care system, including epidemic prevention programs. With the network of the modern educational system gazes from schools were based on the project of producing members of a modern nation. Gazes from churches were involved in the network of discourses and practices aiming at abolition of old customs and superstitions. Through this entanglement of numerous gazes and networks, Korean society came under a large network of surveillance and control. Such a network, however, cannot be sustained by legal or institutional forces alone. Its sustainment also requires the internalization of surveillance and control by the modern subjects themselves. Hospitals, schools, and churches were the most important spaces for that internalization process. In hospitals, and under the detailed regulation of a policed medical system, one had to inspect the sanitary conditions of one’s own body and of the surrounding environment. A filthy body and environment meant disqualification as a civilized being. Urinating in the street or throwing waste into a river became illegal behavior. In schools, and under the public educational system producing a standardized modern national citizenry, one had to constantly examine one’s knowledge and life-style. A good student must have a fine record and a refined attitude. Students who failed examinations or disobeyed regulations were regarded as unqualified students. Churches deepened the process of internalizing surveillance in terms of a special mechanism, i.e. repentance. Although repentance is found in almost all religions, Christianity made it an action of linguistic utterance and, therefore, reinforced the requirement for moral introspection. It was by means of repentance that Catholicism could construct a space of pastoral power.2 2 However, unlike Catholic repentance which is mediated by a priest, Protestant repentance is conducted through an immediate relationship between the divinity and the believer without any mediator. As a result, the moral introspection of Protestantism penetrates more deeply and the internalization of surveillance is further heightened. In such ways, the network of modern surveillance and control, which originated from the specific spatial structures of hospitals, schools, and churches, was being entangled with other greater networks while also procuring a certain degree of sophistication in infil- trating our inner selves. The cultural hegemony of empire whirls within the web of this dense network. 3. Modern Temporality and the Change of Temporal Rhythm and Experience The third effect of the apparatuses of cultural imperialism is that they supplanted traditional temporality with modern temporality and, therefore, transformed the rhythm and experience of time. Traditional temporality was an amalgam of a complicated chronometry and calendar: 24 hours based on 12 celestial cycles; 5 kyong and 5 chom23 between sunrise and sunset; the cycle of a full moon; days/months of the lunar calendar; several important feast days of the lunar calendar; 24 seasonal days of the solar cycle; yearly dates based on the circulation of 60 kapcha24; era names of Chinese imperial reigns; larger cycles of 60 and 180 years. By contrast, the modern temporality introduced from the West consisted of different elements: 60 seconds, 60 minutes, and 24 hours; a 7-day week circulating around Sundays; days/months of the solar calendar; the Gregorian calendar beginning from 1 A.D. Although the latter was introduced long before, it was after (Manmatha) that it began to be widely utilized.2 5 But the everyday rhythm of Koreans did not change accordingly. Seconds and minutes were unfamiliar concepts to them. In addition, they had no opportunity to see foreigners’ watches or clocks. The 7- day week, solar days and months, and counting years according to Western practice had nothing to do with people’s lives. People counted days and months according to the lunar changes and markets held every 5 or 10 days. Important feast days were still observed according to the lunar calendar. The Buddha’s Birthday was always the 8th day of the 4th lunar month. Almost all people and even the royal family celebrated birthdays and memorials by means of the lunar calendar. Seasons circulated along the 24 seasonal days. Important days were chosen by the fate of each day. For ordinary people, eras based upon either the Chinese emperor or Christianity were of no use. There was no room for the acceptance of Western temporality. In such a situation, it was hospitals, schools, and churches that helped modern temporality spread and gain acceptance. They disseminated the 24-hour day and the 7-day week. Hospitals opened and closed on time. Consultation time for outpatients was limited and was not provided on Sundays. Medicines were to be taken 30 minutes after each meal.26 At school, there was a daily schedule for all students, and even a nightly schedule for lodging students. Students who were not punctual were punished. Classes were organized according to each day. On Sundays, there was no class and study or labour was strictly forbidden.27 Not only that, but church bells also rang on time. In such ways, people became accustomed to a new temporality. Hospitals, schools and churches had an influence on the establishment of the solar calendar and the Gregorian calendar. Appointments with doctors were made at a certain time on a set day and month. The span of semesters and vacations was defined in accordance with the solar calendar. As dates in the lunar and solar calendars did not correspond with each other, one had to know both if one did not want to be confused. In churches, almost all feasts were kept according to the solar calendar. In particular, Christmas emitted a festive mood with colorful decorations.28 As a result, Koreans came to have two New Year’s Days: one based on the lunar calendar, the other on the solar. In addition, as public newspapers and magazines issued by Christians used “19XX after the Coming of the Lord” or “19XX after the Savior’s Coming,” Christianity could boast of its ownership of the Gregorian calendar. In such ways, almost all activities in hospitals, schools, and churches were organized in accordance with the Western concept of time: 24 hours, 7 days, solar days and months, and the Western era name. As a result, they made many patients, students, and Christians accept modern temporality and changed the whole rhythm of life. How then did the experience of time change with the spread of modern temporality? First, the experience of time was quantified. In traditional 12-hour (12 shi) chronometry, each hour was not called by a number but by a name like cha shi, ch’uk shi, in shi, etc.29 In addition, it did not indicate a specific point in time but instead a certain time span. In modern 24-hour chronometry, each hour is called by a number and is also divided into 60 minutes and seconds. So, time became mere numbers. There was, of course, a sort of traditional numeric chronometry as in 5 ky¡ng and 5 ch¡m. But the positions of k y ¡ n g and c h ¡ m fluctuated in accordance with the seasonal changes of sunrise-sunset. By contrast, the positions of the 24 hours were fixed exactly. Therefore, according to the spread of modern chronometry, time came to have an unchangeable quantity which could be measured by a machine (clock). Time became an object having a certain numeric value. Second, the experience of time was denaturalized. In the traditional natural calendar, months altered according to the lunar cycle and the turn of the 24 seasonal days followed the solar cycle including solstices and equinoxes. By contrast, the purely artificial 7-day week has nothing to do with nature. As we know, the 7-day week originated from ancient Judeo-Christian custom, continued through medieval Christendom but in the age of the industrial revolution began to dominate the lives of all Western people, including urban city laborers. The modern world came under the reign of the 7-day week as a social contract created by the cohesion of religion and capitalism. Consequently, each date came to be reified and, as a result, its magical power began to dominate the work-and-rest rhythm and to affect all activities and emotions.30 The 7-day week was disseminated into almost all non-Western societies in the age of imperialism and has brought great change to the non-Western world. As a result of the introduction of the 7-day week, Koreans were thrown into the center of the modern world, revolving every seven days, and unconsciously became accustomed to the Western way of thinking and lifestyle. Being separated from nature, time became a solid grid organizing the lives of modern people. Lastly, the experience of time became linear. This process already began when the relentless tricking of the watch divided time and put it on a straight line, and when years began to be counted according to the Christian year. In traditional Korea, years circulated in large cycles every 60 and 180 years. According to Confucian thought, the names of eras were altered according to the enthronement of Chinese emperors (Korea was culturally subordinated to China during the period of Chos¡n from the fourteenth to the nineteenth centuries). Years stopped revolving and were not renewed after the introduction of the Gregorian calendar. Years began to run relentlessly from a starting point to some future end. In this way, time became linear and moved irreversibly in one direction. Accordingly, as time began to run from the first millenium to the second millenium, an obsessive fear of the end of the world began to dominate.31As modern temporality based on the Western chronometry and calendar was introduced and disseminated, Koreans were isolated from the rhythms to which they were accustomed, and were thrown into a new modern life of strange rhythms. As a result, the entire experience of time was changed completely: Save time, time is money! Work on weekdays, rest on the weekend! Prepare for a new century and a new millenium!. . . Hospitals, schools, and churches built by Protestant missionaries were deeply involved in this change. III. Fissuring the Empire: Resistance and Hybridity The project of cultural imperialism operates as a global force devouring everything. Hegemony, however, does not work by means of the unilateral force of its agency alone. It is always accompanied by conflict. For where there is power, as Foucault says, there is resistance. Even though the resistance is destined to be swallowed by power play, it has the potential to shake the basis of power by generating retroactive forces against the unilateral force of dominance. What should be paid attention to is the retroactive forces produced by the resistance. In a situation where no one could escape the grip of expanding modernity, it was due to retroactive forces that the hegemony and effect of cultural imperialism were fissured and weakened. It was due to these forces that, although our modernity could not be an autonomous modernity, it did not remain simply a transplanted modernity. Koreans in the early modern period produced such retroactive forces by actively reacting against the effects of the apparatuses of cultural imperialism. In what ways did Koreans generate such retroactive forces? 1. Expression of Resistance: Rejection One of the most immediate reactions against the cultural hegemony of imperialism is to defy it directly. That is, to reject the apparatuses of cultural imperialism and their effects. This scratches the face of hegemony and thereby weakens it.