This has the effect of making one feel as though they belong to a collective project, united in a common utopian bond for a better world and new possibilities beyond capitalism, even if they disagree with Jameson at times. In that sense, the use of plural pronouns simulates or performatively enacts the very goal of bringing about such a collective project or, one might say, a collective subjectivity, en concreto (without, obviously, being a substitute for real concrete action). Furthermore, it seems opposed, in my mind, to our contemporary ideological situation in which the fragmentation and dispersal of a unified subject under postmodernism has led to new, hyper-mediated and reified forms of “selfhood” engendered vis-a-vis contemporary “communicative capitalism.”¹

Perhaps what we need instead, and which certain modes of communication or ontologies fail to provide, is an authentic sense of collectivity, a “wishful participation that borders on enthusiasm” (as Kant said of the French Revolution) for a new form of collective praxis, in which possibilities of rupture and change suddenly erupt out of our flat, gray, atonal, and thoroughly globalized network of late capitalism. Such a project, of course, would be something like a new way of thinking the unity of theory and praxis for our ideological present.

1. To some degree, one might further identify the recent trends of “home-brewed” ontologies in our corner of the blogosphere in just this light: the fragmentation of a unified subject finds its full realization in the self-construction of entire universes, without any of these Weltanschauungen necessarily coming into direct contact or out-and-out contradiction with one another. Instead, they are referred to as “my” ontology, “my” toys, “my” ideas, and “my” project. Although they intend to describe being qua being, they are meant to be understood more in terms of individuation, drawing on highly localized networks, while even the loosely collective monikers themselves are of a dubious status, “under erasure.”

In Logiques des mondes, further evidence surfaces of Badiou tending (at least temporally) to prioritize names over affects in the process of forcing [forçage]. Therein, he characterizes courage as a capacity to face “points.” One of the conceptual coordinates added to Badiouian philosophy by this sequel to Being and Event is this concept of the point. In several contexts, Badiou, avowedly influenced in his youth by both Sartre (proponent of a philosophy of freedom celebrating the powers of subjectivity as an autonomous negativity) and Althusser (advocate of a structuralist Marxism denigrating Sartrean-style subjectivity as an ideological illusion secreted by trans-individual sociohistorical mechanisms), confesses that one of his deepest-seated philosophical ambitions has always been and continues to be to succeed at combining these two seemingly antithetical influences as indispensable parts of a single philosophical orientation.¹

Although not entirely related, I believe that the polyvalence of subject here (between “subject” as radical Sartrean-style “autonomous negativity” and “subject” as Althusserian-style “structural subjection”) figures directly into a critique of certain flat or object-oriented ontologies. Quoting Johnston:

According to Logiques des mondes, some worlds (although not all worlds), as onto-logical situations…contain within themselves points qua nodes which, when confronted, force an either/or choice between mutually exclusive alternatives (some other worlds, designated as “atonal,” lack points; these flat, grey reality-systems are devoid of immanently embedded internal catalysts for choices not already covered by these same systems). The concept of the point is one example of Badiou’s efforts to think both senses of the term subject.²

What I take Johnston to be saying here is that, by omitting the subject (again, in both senses of the term), “flat,” “atonal” “reality-systems” lack the proper quilting points which “force” the subject to choose (the condensing and splitting of pure multiplicities into the “either/or” of the Two, a logic which I believe derives from Lacan’s alienation-separation axis). Hence, any ontology or system which supposedly provides an account of being qua being that is flat or atonal can only function as a description of a world or situation in which there exists no subject and no possible appearance of a Truth Event that could radically alter the conditions of that world. This, I think, is a serious error, but now I want to move to Karatani:

I now take up the three main currents of thinking in postwar France: existentialism, structuralism, and poststructuralism. The existentialist, Jean-Paul Sartre, stressed freedom, while admitting the structural determinedness of humans. His vantage point might be defined as practical. On the other hand, when the structuralists questioned the concept of subject as a substance and saw it merely as an effect of structure, they took a theoretical stance. In this context it is quite understandable that they returned to Spinoza. As I mentioned earlier, the thesis of Kant’s third antinomy results in Spinoza’s position—that everything is determined by causes, but people think they act freely because the causes are so complex.

…It is meaningless to oppose subject against the structuralist stance, or to seek the subject therein. Because, from the beginning, it is only by bracketing the subject that structural determinism is attained. Conversely, only when structural determination is bracketed can the dimension of subject and responsibility return. Later, when poststructuralism sought to reintroduce morality—it was simply as a matter of course.³

In other words, for Karatani Sartre’s emphasis on “autonomous negativity,” to use Johnston’s phrase (a phrase that, in fact, draws an interesting and perhaps overlooked parallel between Sartre and Žižek) ought to be read above all as a practical standpoint, whereas Althusser’s structural determinism qua “structural causality” and “overdetermination” ought to be read as a theoretical standpoint. Thus, although they appear to be antithetical, they are in fact perfectly reconcilable once we conceive of structure and subject as the unity of theory and practice. This allows Karatani to re-read Kant’s third antinomy as essentially affirming and negating both existentialism and structuralism.

Additionally, Karatani goes one step further by arguing that, outside of the subject-as-freedom and structure-as-determinism antinomy, one already finds an implicit kind of subjectivity lurking behind this opposition. According to Karatani, this is the (Cartesian) subject as void, the subject that carries out the process of bracketing:

In the Saussurean system, and its legacy, a word is the “synthesis” of the signifiant (the sensible) and the signifié (the suprasensible). But the crucial point here is that such a synthesis is established only ex post facto—that it makes sense to me. In the end, when Saussure suggested that form (le signifiant) constitutes a differential, relation system, the architectonic of the system tacitly took as a premise what had already called “transcendental apperception.”⁴

Further along, Karatani writes:

…Cartesian doubt begins from his realization that the truths people believe in are simply determined by the “example and custom” of the community to which they belong, namely, by shared rules and paradigms. That is to say that Descartes had already been observing the world in the manner of a cultural anthropologist. As I pointed out earlier, many postlinguistic-turn philosophers reject methods such as his, motivated as they appear to be in introspection. But the reason Descartes himself tended toward introspection in the first place was because his predecessors of the philosophia scholastica—whether nominalist or realist—had all thought within the frame of the “grammar” of the Indo-European language group. In this respect, the Cartesian cogito is nothing if not the awareness that our thought is always already bound by language. In Kant’s terminology, this is the “transcendental” standpoint toward language. The transcendental position is equivalent to bracketing the imagined self-evidence of the empirical consciousness in order to reveal the (unconscious) conditions that constitute it. What is crucial here is that the transcendental standpoint inexorably accompanies a certain kind of subjectivity.⁵

In my opinion, the strength of Karatani’s position derives from the fact that he is able to reconcile subjectivity and structure by reinterpreting Descartes and Kant as radical thinkers of the unity of theory and practice, which avoids the Scylla and Charybdis of volunteerism and determinism. Yet where Karatani fails, his inability to provide an adequate theory of how to radically reveal and overthrow the “examples and customs” that communities mistake as truths, is precisely where Badiou succeeds: although Badiou’s subject seems to tilt more towards volunteerism in that the subject is forced to choose between a Groundless either/or, which retroactively confers the status upon of subject upon the subject (this leads Badiou toward the problem of “affect” and “will,” as Johnston notes), he nonetheless provides the proper theoretical contours for how to think of change as “transcendence in immanence” (the Event as neither wholly determined by its worldly preconditions, nor as a quas-religious transcendent Beyond lacking any and all preconditions).

Badiou’s theory of the Event, I think, is not only a major improvement over Karatani’s anarchist-communist synthesis, but also entirely compatible with his defense of the Cartesian cogito. I think Žižek’s work is useful here because he provides a kind of metaphorical bridge between Karatani’s Kantianiasm and Badiou’s Platonism. But I want to first let some of this digest and then I’ll try and move on to that topic a bit later.

1. Adrian Johnston, Badiou, Žižek, and Political Transformations: The Cadence of Change (Evanston, IL: Northwestern University Press, 2009), pp. 62-63.
2. Ibid., p. 63
3. Kojin Karatani, Transcritique: On Kant and Marx (Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press, 2005), pp. 120-21.
4. Ibid., p. 77.
5. Ibid., p. 82.