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The moment when “explanations are in order” may rightly give rise to the desire to withhold … long enough, at any rate, to draw attention to what is most compelling in the demand for them.
(Miller 1988: vii)
Shame has flourished as an academic topic during the last decade. This development is not shocking, given the circumstances prevailing in the academic market. Because neoliberal academia functions in a way that requires productive scholars, shame appears to encapsulate, in a strange manner, “a feel for the time.” While many scholars seem to have more freedom to choose unconventional topics—such as affects, for example—it is also clear that they are pressured to produce more and more work. The freedom to create seems to generate more discipline and feelings of inferiority. As most of us know, if you do not want to feel unworthy or deficient, you have to produce quality work, an effort that paradoxically produces more anxiety and a greater sense of failure. In the writing of this book, I share this anxiety with my colleagues, but the additional step I want to take is to interrogate the conditions of its production.
Like many others, I feel ashamed not only when I have to live with the demand to be productive, but also when I am in direct encounters with direct mechanisms of repression. When I am stopped by the police, I face the demand to show my papers. Without exception, I always feel that I am doing something bad, or that I am somewhere I should not be. In responding to this feeling, I do sometimes question either the demand to open the trunk of my car or to tautologically repeat that I am a citizen at that special moment when I have to cross the border. I know I want to resist the demand to show my papers. “But officer …” is my hesitant effort to articulate what may count as resistance. Because my papers, like yours, are never without a fl aw, I want to postpone the moment of showing to the police that I qualify as a moral person.
This introductory chapter clarifies the goals and the method of the book. My first claim here is that a genealogical approach pushes political theory away from traditional liberal models about politics. In doing genealogy, I put Jacques Rancière's work in conversation with queer theory and challenge a liberal feminist conception of shame, which understands shame as being primarily negative and dangerous for politics. In turn, I conceptualize shame as a political act which interrupts a given hierarchy of power and social roles. As such, shame articulates a wrong, disrupts an uninterrogated allegiance to a hierarchical identity, and creates the scene of a disagreement. My second claim is that I shift a conventional perception about political agency by rethinking the origins of Anglo-American feminism. Rather than highlighting the nineteenth-century contributions to a liberal conception of agency, I illuminate three counter-figures, disturbing silences, performative slurs, and non-conventional relationships, that challenge a contemporary brand of activism. I categorize these figures as nineteenth century queer practices and explain why shame functions as a political interruption of the liberal order.
Politics happens on the terrain of the police. (Chambers 2013: 64)
The Argument
This is a work of political theory that aims to rethink the relationship between shame and politics. I draw from Jacques Rancière's philosophy of politics, queer feminist theory, Michel Foucault's practices of freedom, as well as from the actions of nineteenth-century theorists such as John Stuart Mill, to imagine interventions that have the potential to open up situations that are currently considered blocked and unchangeable. The goal of this book is to imagine a new kind of queer political theory and, in doing so, to change the conventional perspective on shame as a negative and bad emotion for political action. Shame, I argue, has a disturbing capacity to introduce an order of equality as an antidote to the police. To modify a widespread perception about shame, I challenge various feminist and queer theories that police this affect, by which I mean that they contain and restrict shame's capacity for political action.
This article addresses the management of maritime plunder and conflict in the waters of England and France in the fourteenth century. It argues that during this century a fundamental change occurred. Around 1300, maritime conflict was handled by recourse to the strictly civil law merchant and law maritime, or by Marcher law. However by the 1350s and 1360s the kings of England and France, moved by contemporary political events and theories of sovereignty at sea, created courts of Admiralty that challenged the previous systems’ jurisdiction. These initiatives eventually paved the way for the criminalisation of private maritime conflict.
Recent historiography argues that the legal autonomy of municipal governments created the necessary conditions for successful commercial transactions and economic growth in certain parts of Europe in the later Middle Ages, and that these features attracted foreign merchants. This article uses empirical data from England, Flanders and Normandy to test the following questions: were there significant differences in rules, laws and institutions between one place and another in late medieval western Europe? Were the Portuguese merchants drawn to markets that hypothetically had more effective institutions? The findings demonstrate that legal institutions and conflict management were very similar across western Europe, and that there is no evidence that the Portuguese opted for trading in a certain market because of its effective institutions. Moreover, the article claims that the merchants seemed to prioritise protection and privilege while trading abroad, and it highlights the role of commercial diplomacy in conflict management.
This article analyses the mechanisms of conflict resolution in apprenticeship contracts using a large database of disputes from early modern Italy. It finds that the guild court under investigation (the Padua Woollen Guild court) did not enforce training contracts, but rather sought to improve on incomplete contracts by adding clauses, thereby helping individuals renegotiate and redefine the contractual arrangements into which they had decided to enter. However, power relations within the court operated largely in favour of employers, both merchants and master craftsmen. The article concludes that alternative contract enforcement systems, such as municipal or state courts, were probably better suited than corporative systems for resolving disputes surrounding apprenticeship.
Ever since research on the Hanse began in the nineteenth century, there have been repeated efforts to redefine the boundaries and the core of the phenomenon. Views of the Hanse have evolved, and it has been seen by turns as a profoundly German league of towns, and as a network or organisation of towns and traders that was present in commercial centres and harbours from Novgorod to Portugal, and from Norway to Italy. In more general discussions on the institutional development of commerce in Europe, many of them influenced by the New Institutional Economics, the Hanse has even appeared as a mega-guild. The revival of the field of institutional economics and the history of commerce in pre-modern Europe has recently spawned a reappraisal of Hanseatic sources. The present article contributes to this debate by arguing that from the perspective of conflict management, the late medieval and early modern Hanse was an institution. There were several institutional mechanisms, such as a strong preference for mediation and arbitration in conflicts between individuals, as well as a mediation strategy for internal conflicts between towns. All of these mechanisms combined in a multifaceted institution of conflict management, which represented the added value of Hanse membership for traders, and for their towns.
The settlement of structural commercial conflicts of interest cannot be exclusively subsumed under the heading of dispute resolution. Even when a particular conflict opposing specific individuals or groups of interests could be settled, the broader underlying conflicts of interest would subsist and re-emerge. Both commercial and institutional or political actors would therefore rely on various techniques of conflict management, a process imposing restraint on the opposing parties while allowing sufficient leeway for business to be continued. Both conflict resolution and conflict management were devices of public and corporate governance, and therefore, following the late medieval tradition, instruments more or less based on established patterns of legal or quasi-legal models legitimised by accepted or conventional parameters of ‘justice’.
This article explores the ambivalent forms of authority and legitimacy articulated by the Office of the High Representative of the international community in postwar Bosnia and Herzegovina. The High Representative exercised quasi-sovereign powers that placed his position at the center of two contradictions: a democratization paradox of “imposing democracy,” that is, promoting democracy through undemocratic means, and a state-building paradox of building an independent state by violating the principle of popular sovereignty. I analyze the Office's use of mass-mediated publicity to show how the High Representative sought to legitimize his actions in ways that both sustained the norms of democracy and statehood he advocated and suspended the contradictions behind how he promoted them. In doing so, he claimed that Bosnia was caught in a temporary state of exception to the normal nation-state order of things. This claim obliged him to show that he was working to end the state of exception. By focusing on one failed attempt by the OHR to orchestrate an enactment of “local ownership” that was aimed at demonstrating that Bosnia no longer required foreign supervision, this article identifies important limits to internationally instigated political transformation. It offers a view of international intervention that is more volatile, open-ended, and unpredictable than either the ordered representations of the technocratic vision or the confident assertions that critique international intervention as a form of (neo)imperial domination. It also demonstrates the analytic importance of publicity for the comparative study of international nation-building and democratization in the post-Cold War era.
This article rethinks the nature of power and its relation to territory in the photographic event. Focusing on thousands of photographs taken during the British Younghusband Expedition to Lhasa between 1903 and 1904, it reorients understandings of photography as either reproducing or enabling the “negotiation” or contestation of power inequalities between participants. It shows how, in the transitory relations between Tibetans, Chinese, and Britons during and after photographic events, photography acted as a means by which participants constituted themselves as responsible agents—as capable of responding and as “accountable”—in relation to one another and to Tibet as a political entity. Whether in photographs of Tibetans protesting British looting or of their “reading” periodicals containing photographs of themselves, photography, especially Kodak photography, proposed potential new ways of being politically “Tibetan” at a time when the meaning of Tibet as a territory was especially indeterminate. This article therefore examines how the shifting territorial meaning of Tibet, transformed by an ascendant Dalai Lama, weakening Qing empire, and Anglo-Russian competition, converged with transformations in the means of visually reflecting upon it. If photography entailed always-indeterminate power relations through which participants constituted themselves in relation to Tibet, then it also compels our own rethinking of Tibet itself as an event contingent on every event of photography, rather than pre-existing or “constructed” by it.