Thursday, July 19, 2012

Defend the right to murder posted by Richard Seymour

The police officer who killed Ian Tomlinson has been acquitted. This is a real achievement for the police, in defending PC Simon Harwood. They clearly went to the court with the bigger arsenal. The jury was not aware that the police's key witness, the pathologist Freddy Patel, is such a complete and utter disgrace. They were not aware that he has been struck off the Home Office's register of approved pathologists, that he has made serious 'mistakes' in high profile cases, and that many people believe he is a serial liar (replace 'many people' with 'I', and 'serial' with 'fucking'). They were also not told aware that the suspect, the killer, Simon Harwood, is an accomplished psycho with a string of complaints to his name. One has to assume that the police authorities moved heaven and earth, and used all their considerable institutional power, to ensure this verdict. So, it's an achievement for them.

 

The question is, why did the police go to such extraordinary efforts? The clue is in the final sentence to the Guardian's report on this: "No police officer has been convicted for manslaughter for a crime committed while on duty since 1986." This is crucial.

 

To be clear, there have been police officers pursued for crimes committed while off-duty, and these are sometimes taken extremely seriously. There was a well-known recent case of a police officer racially abusing a Pakistani shop owner. He was fired. But the main reason he was fired is because he was silly enough to commit his hate crime while off-duty and inebriated. Had he committed a crime while in uniform and on the job, the authorities would have felt compelled to defend him.

 

The reasoning can only be this: a) if a crime is committed by a police officer on the job, then it's the police force at stake rather than just one individual, and b) if the crime relates to the handling of members of the public, the police would want to protect the officer's right to determine the parameters of a given situation and use maximum discretion in how they deal with individuals. Implicitly, this means they expect these practices - from racist harrassment to lethal violence - to form part of the repertoire of police action.

 

This is a major victory for the police in defending the right to murder. One had thought that it couldn't be too long before they killed someone during the student protests, and had they gone on for much longer the strong likelihood is that they would have done. SNow we have a heavily militarised Olympics coming up, which the East End hates. And there is plenty of combustible material in this society, plenty to protest about. And I had already thought it would be surprising if they didn't kill someone this summer. Now I find it hard to imagine that the police won't avail themselves of a right they have so vigorously defended.

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Tuesday, April 03, 2012

Protests and Police Statistics in South Africa: Some Commentary posted by Richard Seymour

Guest post by Prof. Peter Alexander*


On 19 March the South African Minister of Police, Mr. Nathi Mthetwa, informed parliament about the number of ‘crowd management incidents’ that occurred during the three years from 1 April 2009.[1] Table 1, compares the new data with similar statistics for the preceding five years.

Table 1. Crowd management incidents[2]



Peaceful
Unrest
Total
2004/05
7,382
622
8,004
2005/06
9,809
954
10,763
2006/07
8,703
743
9,446
2007/08
6,431
705
7,136
2008/09
6,125
718
6,843
2009/10
7,897
1,008
8,905
2010/11
11,681
973
12,654
2011/12[3]
9,942
1,091
11,033

In 2010/11 there was a record number of crowd management incidents (unrest and peaceful), and the final data for 2011/12 are likely to show an even higher figure.[4] Already, the number of gatherings involving unrest was higher in 2011/12 than any previous year. During the last three years, 2009-12, there has been an average of 2.9 unrest incidents per day. This is an increase of 40 percent over the average of 2.1 unrest incidents per day recorded for 2004-09. The statistics show that what has been called the Rebellion of the Poor has intensified over the past three years.

In 2010 the Minister of Police explained that: ‘the Incident Regulation Information System (IRIS) classifies incidents either as crowd management (peaceful) where the incident is managed in co-operation with the convenor and the police only monitor the gathering, or as crowd management (unrest) where the police need to intervene to make arrests or need to use force when there is a risk to safety or possible damage to property’.[5]

‘Gatherings’ may be sporting activities, for example, but the majority are related to protests of some kind.[6] During 2007/08 to 2009/10 ‘the most common reason for conducting crowd management (peaceful) gatherings was labour related demands for increases in salary/wages’. For the same period, the most common reason for ‘crowd management (unrest) was related to service delivery issues’.[7] The Minister’s new statement does not include similar information for 2010/12.

According to the minister’s 2010 statement the average number of participants in gatherings defined as ‘crowd management (peaceful)’ was 500 (2007/08) and 4,000 (2008/09), and the average number in those defined as ‘crowd management (unrest)’ was 3,000 (2007/08) and 4,000 (2008/09). In the new statement, the minister declined to put a figure on numbers of participants.

For the first time, the minister was asked to state the number of arrests that had occurred with crowd management (unrest) gatherings. These were given as 4,883 (2009/10), 4,680 (2010/11), 2,967 (1 April 2011 to 5 March 2012). These figures give the average number of arrests per unrest gathering as, respectively, 4.8 (2009/10), 4.8 (2010/11), and 2.7 (2011/12).[8]

Table 2 is based on a breakdown of crowd management incidents in each province as provided in the 2010 and 2012 ministerial statements. As we have shown previously, these figures (and the data in general) do not necessarily give a precise indication of the number of incidents.[9] There can be administrative weaknesses and human error. Nevertheless, they probably provide reasonably reliable approximations. Gauteng had the largest number of peaceful incidents and the largest number of unrest incidents, but it also has the greatest population, so this is not surprising.

Table 2. Total crowd management incidents, 2007/08 to 2011/12, by province and category,
and propensity to participate in crowd management incidents.



2011 population estimate[10]
Peaceful incidents
Peaceful incidents per thousand
Unrest incidents
Unrest incidents per thousand
Gauteng
11,328,203
9209
0.81
1097
0.10
Limpopo
5,554,657
4066
0.73
222
0.04
North West
3,253,390
6980
2.15
695
0.21
Mpumalanga
3,657,181
1944
0.53
358
0.10
KwaZulu-Natal
10,819,130
8555
0.79
546
0.05
Eastern Cape
6,829,958
3578
0.52
322
0.05
Free State
2,759,644
2606
0.94
413
0.15
Western Cape
5,287,863
3148
0.60
599
0.11
Northern Cape
1,096,731
1990
1.81
243
0.22

Table 2 also compares numbers of incidents with size of population (as estimated by StatsSA for 2011). We need to add the rider that figures are for numbers of gatherings, and these can vary in size. However, when we take population into account North West and Northern Cape come out on top. Since it is likely that most of the peaceful incidents are related to labour protests and many are sporting events, the unrest incidents are probably more pertinent as a gauge of the scale of service delivery protests in particular and the rebellion of the poor in general. It is notable that the three poorer provinces (which are also the most rural) – i.e. Limpopo, Eastern Cape and KZN – have a lower propensity towards unrest incidents than other provinces. The implication, reflected in other studies, is that the rebellion cannot be explained in terms of poverty as such. It is mainly a movement within urban areas, but within those areas most participants and leaders can be regarded as poor, with a high proportion coming from informal settlements, where services are especially weak.

The main conclusion we draw from the latest police statistics is that the number of service delivery protests continues unabated. Government attempts to improve service delivery have not been sufficient to assuage the frustration and anger of poor people in South Africa. From press reports and our own research it is clear that while service delivery demands provide the principal focus for unrest incidents, many other issues are being raised, notably lack of jobs. As many commentators and activists now accept, service delivery protests are part of a broader Rebellion of the Poor. This rebellion is massive. I have not yet found any other country where there is a similar level of ongoing urban unrest. South Africa can reasonably be described as the ‘protest capital of the world’. It also has the highest levels of inequality and unemployment of any major country, and it is not unreasonable to assume that the rebellion is, to a large degree, a consequence of these phenomena. There is no basis for assuming that the rebellion will subside unless the government is far more effective in channelling resources towards the poor.






[1] The minister was responding to a question raised by Mr M.H. Hoosen of the Independent Democrats. See National Assembly (2012), 36/1/4/1/201200049, Question No. 397, 19 March. I am grateful to Mr Hoosen for asking this question.
[2] Data supplied by ministers of police in response to parliamentary questions, with the exception of 2004/05, where the statistics come directly from the South African Police Service’s IRIS. See Natasha Vally (2009), ‘National trends around protest action: mapping protest action in South Africa’ (Centre for Sociological Research and Development Studies Seminar, University of Johannesburg); Peter Alexander (2010), ‘Rebellion of the poor: South Africa’s service delivery protests – a preliminary analysis’, Review of African Political Economy 37(123), pp. 26-27; National Assembly (2010), 36/1/4/1/201000030, Question No. 194, 19 April.
[3] For 2011/12 the figures are for the period 1 April 2011 to 5 March 2012.
[4] Ibid.
[5] National Assembly (2010).
[6] Vally (2009).
[7] National Assembly (2010), National Assembly (2012).
[8] National Assemby 2012.
[9] Vally (2009), Alexander (2010).
[10] Statistics South Africa, Mid-year Population Estimates (2011).



*Peter Alexander. South African Research Chair in Social Change and Professor of Sociology, Faculty of Humanities, University of Johannesburg

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Wednesday, March 14, 2012

Free speech martyr posted by Richard Seymour

Azhar Ahmed is the latest victim of a concerted effort to re-define racism as "anything that could conceivably offend white people". Ahmed is being prosecuted by police over a statement he made on Facebook.  The police say it is a "racially aggravated public order offence".  

Look at the statement.  There is not a hint of racism in it.  To make it racist, one would have to assume that the troops were not just exclusively white, but somehow the bearer of whiteness in its essence.  Maybe they are in this day and age; maybe it is through imperialist action and its effects both domestically and internationally that whiteness is produced.  But the second assumption one would have to make is that white people are the victims of racist oppression by black people, Muslims and so on.  We'll come back to this. 

A spokesperson for Yorkshire police said: "He didn't make his point very well and that is why he has landed himself in bother."  So, the penalty for not making a point "very well" is prosecution and potentially a sentence of up to six months in prison.  The suggestion, though, is that aside from being "racially aggravated" this statement constitutes an incitement to disorder.  Of course, it is considerably more even tempered than some sentiments I have expressed myself in the past, though I won't suffer arrest or prosecution for it.  In addition, the internet - and Facebook in particular - contains an abundance of pages that really do exist to incite violence.  Yet a Muslim sassing our brave boys is too much for the state.  Either this suggests that Muslims are an excitable brown rabble, apt to start cutting white people up at the merest hint of block capitals and exclamation marks, or it implies that it is the feelings of offended white people that must be protected, lest they be the ones who are incited.  Unsurprisingly the EDL and Casuals United dirt (may I say that, or is it "racially aggravated"?) are delighted.  Muslims won't be allowed to sass our brave boys now that the bizzies are 'on our side'.  Hurrah for the filth!  (Is that okay, or...?)

What is really at stake here?  Why are the police behaving like this?  The blog of the Index on Censorship website suggests that suspicion of Muslims voicing opposition to the troops is rooted in fear and suspicion resulting from 7/7.  To be honest, I think this is lame.  The police and the Crown Prosecution Service are not acting out of paranoia.  But the blog also makes another suggestion which gets close to the truth in my opinion: "Unconditional support for soldiers is now expected, even as we become increasingly unsure of what they’re doing out there. From the most ardent supporter of the war to the most strident critic, everyone claims to be acting in the interest of Our Brave Boys. This is now not a matter of politics, but loyalty ... the “racially aggravated” charge doesn’t stick, unless one is willing to buy into the notion that Afghanistan is part of an ethno-religious war between “Islam” and “the West”."

This suggests that it is the state, through its action, which is racializing this issue.  We know that the state is involved in more than simply the bureaucratic and repressive organization of society.  Fundamentally what it does is a kind of moral regulation, ordering the symbolic world, constituting norms and social classifications.  Obviously the law, and the criminal justice system which executes the law, is critical to this constitutive action.  The state's re-classification of racist crime in such a way as to efface the axis of oppression, to make it such that "racism cuts both ways", was an important precondition for this sort of action.  But what is at stake now is an attempt to re-organize the social body behind a resurgent militarism.  We have seen the PR efforts aimed at cementing a new consensus that can support war indirectly, or at least neutralise opposition, on the basis of pro-troops sentiment.  I think the pukeworthy Military Wives, whatever the producers thought they were doing, was a masterpiece in this sort of propaganda.  But consent does not exist in separation from coercion.  Violence and, literally, terror is central to how consent is secured.  How the police act in producing consent has been dealt with here.

So we could see this prosecution as aberrant, the criminal justice system over-reacting, over-playing its hand, being too fastidious with incitement laws, or whatever.  No doubt some will attribute it to nanny-state authoritarianism, and the usual bores will say that the liberals who support anti-racist legislation caused this to happen.  I think it would make more sense to see it as a speculative manouevre in the application of an emerging discourse of treason.  For that is really the logic of this prosecution.  One has to see this question of 'incitement' in connection with the repressive and racialized response to the riots last Summer, and the generalized unease of the British state about the combustibility of the social order.  Those police actions extended the repertoire of repressive tactics already formed in relation to the student protests, G20, UK Uncut, the climate camp and so on.  As importantly, I think, it has to be seen in the context of the new doctrine of 'total policing', which is essentially about giving the police more of a free hand to intervene in aggressive ways to solve problems of social order, coded as problems of crime prevention.  A premium is being placed on preemptive action, literally - I repeat, literally - on terror.  In this case, it is disloyalty that is being punished, in a racialized way.  The action of the police and courts is about constituting a new field of punishable conduct.  And when disloyalty is punished, there really isn't much that can't be included under its canopy.

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Wednesday, February 01, 2012

Gangs of London posted by Richard Seymour

1.  Chief Inspector Ian Kibblewhite of Enfield constabulary: "You might have 100 people in your gang - we have 32,000 people in our gang. It's called the Metropolitan Police."

2. "Entire crime squad is investigated for corruption ... All the officers are based on the Enfield borough crime squad which deals with local robberies and burglaries and the inquiry centres on the "mishandling of property" believed to be stolen electronic goods including televisions."



3. "Video footage shows the detective sergeant and five constables leaping from an unmarked car shouting "attack, attack", before smashing baseball bats and a pickaxe handle into the side windows and windscreen of a Mini stopped in traffic. The plainclothes officers – all members of the Enfield crime squad in north London – then pull out the driver, Jonathan Billinghurst, and push him to the floor, where he is arrested. ... Scotland Yard said on Wednesday that the six officers – who are the first to face disciplinary action as a result of the inquiry – had been found guilty of misconduct but would not be sacked."

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Tuesday, January 31, 2012

Bad cops, bad cops posted by Richard Seymour

What is policing?  In a recent interview with the New Left Project, Robert Reiner argues that "in practice the police are primarily an instrument for regulating the lower orders".  Historically, police forces emerge as "a more urban and industrial ruling class" arises and requires "a more predictable, bureaucratic, legal and apparently universal means of maintaining order" than traditional agents of monarchy, armed forces, etc.  The "apparently universal" aspect of this has been reinforced by a misleading focus on the police's role in "routine crime prevention" which obscures its role in political policing, but the net effect is to protect a particular order, one based on inequality and hierarchy.  This is all very useful, and I expect readers will benefit from reading Reiner's book, Law and Order.  (For those looking for a marxist approach to the British police, the late Audrey Farrell's book Crime, Class and Corruption is a must read.)  

But this is merely to set up the problem.  In my opinion, it still doesn't satisfactorily answer the question as to what policing is.  We can agree that in a manner of speaking the police are "an instrument for regulating the lower orders", which is a part of the state's overall regulatory function in daily life.  Philip Corrigan and Derek Sayer's classic historical monograph on the English/British state, The Great Arch, covering its transformation from the high middle ages until the late 19th century, argues that the state is fundamentally a cultural form involved in "moral regulation": a "project of normalizing, rendering natural, taken for granted, in a word 'obvious', what are in fact ontological and epistemological premises of a particular and historical form of social order ... Centrally, state agencies attempt to give unitary and unifying expression to what are in reality multifaceted and differential historical experiences of groups within society, denying their particularity."  So, this supports two aspects of Reiner's analysis: the police in this perspective would have a regulatory function, and a unifying, apparently universalising function.  Moreover, the emphasis on moral regulation specifies something particular about police conduct which is that, as repressive institutions, they are deeply involved in ideological work.  The police have a role in maintaining a symbolic order, and deploy violence to that end.  Still, we haven't really moved very far forward from the most general of generalities here.

***

I think to take this analysis further it would help to outline what would seem to be a peculiar set of circumstances.  The government is introducing a series of substantial changes to policing structures and tactics in England and Wales (devolution in Northern Ireland and Scotland exclude these constituents of the UK from the reforms).  First, they are introducing a system of elected commissioners, drawing to some extent from the US model.  I think most police officers hate this, and the 'witnesses' before the Home Affairs Committee rejecting the idea - such as Sir Hugh Orde, Sir Paul Stephenson and numerous others - seemed to represent a big chunk of the policing establishment.  Coupled with this change is the abolition of the old police authorities in which the police were run by a selected committee made up of elected councillors and 'independent' appointees.  There was initially to be an elected committee that would oversee policing, but that was abandoned under pressure from police and previous committees.  Instead, the oversight of commissioners will be carried out by appointed panels, with appointees drawn from 'local communities'.  The government has made it clear that the main aim of these reforms is to change the relationship of police to the 'local communities' in which they operate.  This is a strategic rather than tactical reform: that is, it is less about operational issues than about organising the relationship of the police to society (or rather, to social classes) in such a way as to cultivate a basis for right-wing, populist 'law and order' politics. 

Second, the Tories are cutting police budgets.  Contrary to my own expectations, the cuts have not been substantially revised in response to the student protests, industrial militancy, or the riots.  This is one of the reasons why you will sometimes encounter low ranking officers policing demos etc, moaning that they too are public sector workers and no one cares about them.  (I've witnessed this sort of exchange numerous times, and I think it reflects a real anger being expressed in the rank and file.)  And it is in stark contrast to Mrs Thatcher's qualitative expansion and upgrading of police budgets, numbers, technology and legal powers, or indeed to New Labour's policy along similar lines.  I had thought this must reflect the degree of the Tories' complacency about the prospects for serious social conflict arising from their deep structural adjustment programme.  That certainly can't be excluded as a factor - their handling of union negotiations shows how arrogant they are.  It also probably manifests their belief that the technological and organisational re-tooling of the police can make up for the shortfall in central government spending.  The rationalization of the police bureaucracy - usually understood in ideological language as making it 'more responsive', filling a 'democratic deficit', 'professionalizing' the force, and so on - is consistent with the neoliberal theory of organisational efficiency in the form of 'public choice theory'.  The current Met Commissioner, to whom I'll return in a moment, makes the argument that the police are like every public monopoly in having no competition: they must therefore simulate the basic structures of competitive market efficiency within themselves.  But above all, the fact that the Tories are prepared to take such political risks over this - damaging their own public support, as well as their long-standing close relationship with the police - indicates that something fundamental is at stake.  That something is the budget, and reducing the burden of taxation on businesses, entrepreneurs, speculators and property owners over the long-term.  This is supposed to create an extremely favourable climate for investors, enabling a leaner British capitalism to remain competitive.  Rationalising the police force is part of the programme, like it or not.

Thirdly, the government went for the police following the riots, attacking their response as tactically timid.  Since the Police Federation had been warning the government of the likelihood of serious social unrest since its election, and since the Home Secretary dismissed these warnings as scaremongering, this was waving a red rag.  It was also politically weird when irrational police fetishism was the order of the day.  Then, the government announced that it was pursuing further reform along US lines, that it was bringing US 'supercop' Bill Bratton in to advise the government on 'gangs', and that it would be open to an application from him to head up a revamped Metropolitan Police, whose leadership had been taken out by Hackgate.  In the end, Bratton didn't work out for them - Cameron thought he was a tough guy advocate of 'zero tolerance' policing.  He isn't.  But the introduction of this worn out old nostrum pissed off UK police chiefs, who actually aren't very keen on the idea at all.  In the end, Bernard Hogan-Howe, who has seemed to be a tacit supporter of the government's reforms and champions something called "total policing", was appointed Commissioner of the Met and given a remit to fundamentally reform the capital's police service.

So, in a very politicised way, policing in the capital is being re-organised in a way that will presumably exert effects right throughout the chain of police authorities in the UK.  It is being done in a way that makes policing more confrontational, more explicitly political, and which alienates both the rank and file coppers and a great proportion of the police leadership. Inasmuch as there will be a critical response from social democracy to these developments, it will hinge on the cuts to 'a vital public service', on the inadequacy of the reforms, and on the need to bolster the crime prevention aspect of policing.  The Labour right has been most vociferous on the need to protect constabulary independence from politics (meaning, from democratic oversight).  Labour's left will have something to say about the politicization of policing, and the growth of authoritarianism alongside the reduction of necessary 'community policing', just as they did under Thatcher.  The limits of such an approach, however, become evident when you look at what 'total policing' involves.

***

"Total policing", as practiced by Hogan-Howe in Merseyside and now in London, is not necessarily "total policing" as advocated by some police experts.  They argue that it entails breaking down specialization in the police force to allow a more flexible response to emergent problems, whereas Hogan-Howe is committed to retaining specialized units.  But inasmuch as it does relate to that basic organizational motif, and Hogan-Howe is explicit in stating that it does, it seems to relate to a set of peculiar institutional and social problems created that arise in the context of austerity.  That is, for as long as the political opposition to the Tories is so weak, they can expect the opposition to emerge in a localised, spontaneous, unpredictable manner.  In this situation, having big battalions of police ready to fight on all fronts is less important than having a police force with the maximum adaptibility, able to suddenly surround an emerging confrontation and subdue it before it spreads.   In practice, and this is where the experts have reservations, it also seems to mean literally having a 'total' architecture of police control in the context of protests and rallies.  Rhetorically, Hogan-Howe sticks to the script about ensuring a 'balance' between rights and upholding the law, but even in his highly coded public discourse the emphasis is clearly on treating increased protest as a problem to be contained, demanding an escalated response.  The TUC march on November 30th in London was subject to the most extraordinary police restrictions, including the walling off of Trafalgar Square and routes around it with steel - this on a trade union march, where it was highly unlikely that anything was going to 'kick off'. 

'Total policing' also entails, of course, a 'total war' on crime, deploying a wide range of tactics - nothing illegal or aggressive, Hogan-Howe insists - to constantly frustrate criminals.  Here, the new Met Commissioner's technophilia and fondness for militarised solutions comes through.  Thus, instead of spending months surveilling drug gangs, just get a warrant and kick in the door, and reap some surprising rewards.  Or, instead of simply going after criminals directly, impound uninsured cars on the premise that 80% of them are owned by people with a criminal conviction, thus impeding the mobility of burglars, robbers etc.  (This sounds like something from a popular book expounding behavioural economics.)  Technology, Hogan-Howe argues, should also be reconfigured away from 'bureaucratic' apparatuses, toward preventive technology.  He contrasts computers which permit number-crunching and 'lists' - how many burglaries were committed in a given area last year - with numberplate-recognition technology which ostensibly allows one to stop crimes in progress, or before they happen.  

This is a false dichotomy, since any technology could feasibly be used in the development of prevention tactics.  But it illustrates the kind of thinking underpinning this 'total policing' approach.  If policing as such reduces complex social phenomena to bureaucratic problems to be resolved through the targeted application of violence, 'total policing' tries to reiterate these bureaucratic problems in the language of technology.  And as long as we understand 'technology' in its broad sense, as in a technical process, an ensemble of techniques related to governance, a technology of power, it makes complete sense.  Contrary to what one may be tempted to assume, this is policing at its most ideological.  For what has happened here is that the dominant ideology has already been materialized in the practices of the state.  The dominant ideology, we may say for the sake of brevity, is that which normalizes "ontological and epistemological premises of a particular and historical form of social order".  It is an ideology which arises directly from productive relations, from the division of labour and the labour process itself, and which constitutes a particular capitalist form of corporeality.

To elaborate.  It is not that the existence of "biological individuals" necessarily generates the ideology of individualism: this is plainly not true, historically, and the concept of "biological individuals" is itself question-begging, avoiding or suppressing the matter of our natural biological dependence.  It is that the capitalist mode of production presupposes the individualization of bodies.  We are all, in this sense, self-sufficient units engaged in a competitive, self-interested struggle for utility maximization, which is ultimately the aggrandisement of the self.  This is not simply a 'theoretical' proposition of capitalism, not a 'premise' in that sense, but a necessary material aspect of its development.  We carry out labour processes in relative independence from one another - our cooperation is not enacted by prior engagement and planning, but in the context of market competition.  We sell our labour power and purchase the means of its reproduction in this way.  In this process, the political, ideological and juridical relations which constitute us as autonomous (rights-bearing, contract-bound, property-owning) subjects are always-already present.  Every relation in the capitalist labour process presupposeses this possessive-individualism.  

In the practices of the state, specifically for our purposes the legal/juridical practices of the state, these relations are materialised.  In the discourses of crime, and law and order, certain social practices and the relations of dominance contained in these practices are normalized and legitimized, whereas practices which disrupt these relations of dominance are criminalized.  But in materializing these relations, the state also represents itself as the unifying agent, fusing these individuals, these capitalist bodies, together in a collective national body, the popular-national state.  And in so doing, it does not just normalize certain relations, but it universalises them.  The ideology of crime already effects this universalisation - mark the point in Hogan-Howe's speech where he says no one benefits from ongoing crime, it is in everyone's interests to stop crime, etc.  This 'naturally', in an entirely unforced way, obscures the existence of social interests seriously at odds with the dominant social order, at odds in such a way that they cannot be negotiated or resolved within the extant politico-legal framework.  

It is mistaken to think that this is always necessarily effective.  The whole field of social (class) relations is a field of struggle, and therefore the materialization of these relations will necessarily be riven with antagonisms.  This is clear if you look at how, historically, the police have been rejected in many working class communities - a pattern that has persisted to this day, in a way never quite captured in The Bill, but obvious enough in the context of the riots.  This is why the government feels the urgent need to re-organise the relationship between the police and 'local communities'.   It may also be one reason why Hogan-Howe feels the need to change the police's approach to 'stop and search', about which more later. 

Finally, in materializing the relations of dominance, the state also works to constitute them at every level, and this is where its practices form an ensemble of technologies of power.  The technology that we are invited to focus on, to think fondly about, to imagine in thrilling action, is nothing other than the technology involved in the production of i) social relations themselves, and ii) the capitalist bodies in which those relations are inscribed.

***

This helps to explain why the social democratic response is necessarily limited at best.  During the miners' strike, Paul Gilroy and Joe Simm published an article, brimming with embarrassing detail, which attacked certain Labour left mythologies on crime and punishment.  These commonplace myths held that Thatcher's very real augmentation and militarisation of the state's repressive apparatuses was a fundamental departure from the practice of the welfare state 'golden era'.  During the years of class compromise, it was held, policing was focused on clearing up crime in a civic fashion, while national bargaining institutions and parliamentary democracy resolved political differences.  Gilroy and Simm demolished this fairly comprehensively, showing that from the first post-war Home Secretary, James Chuter Ede, up to Merlyn Rees, Callaghan's Home Secretary, Labour administrations had always dealt with class conflict, crime, and of course political struggle in Northern Ireland, in a militarized, politicized and authoritarian fashion.  The 'golden age' never was.  

We will similarly have no difficulty in recalling the extraordinary authoritarianism of New Labour, from ASBOs to the threatened use of troops to break a firefighters' strike.  But the point of detailing all of this was and is to indicate the limits of an analysis of policing which treats it centrally as a 'public service' in which a municipal agency delivers 'law and order' to a tax-paying community.  Such was a contention not just of Labourites but of marxists such as E P Thompson.  That analysis is what led many on the left to blame Thatcher for police misconduct in the 1980s, and to demand more police on the beat.  In fact, and this is something I assume Cameron's reformers are well aware of, more police officers on the beat makes practically zero difference to crime rates.  This is something that Home Office figures, as well as academic research, constantly indicates.  By demanding more police, the left just played into Thatcher's strategy of beefing up capacity in anticipation of major social conflicts.

Policing is about something other than crime.  That something else is, to put it crudely, violence and coercion.  To put it less crudely, the police force contains within itself both 'legal' and 'illegal' forms of behaviour.  It's not just that there is well known corruption, the beating of suspects, harrassing activists, and so on.  It is that the apparent "gap between the democratic rhetoric of law and the actual practice of justice", as Gilroy and Simm put it, is expressive of the process of legality in itself.  This process supposedly involves the collection, presentation and assimilation of evidence, a set of procedures designed to evaluate the objective truth of a situation: a person broke the law, or they didn't.  But the process itself is constituted by power: the power of the police to determine, within limits, the laws and restraints applicable to them and their immediate relations with their subjects, to reconstruct events in a self-justifying way, to frame suspects; the power of judges to act arbitrarily, to sermonise, to unduly restrain solicitors, to (mis)instruct the jury, to inflict harsh punishments and thereby 'send a message'; the power of the media to identify crime 'scandals' or determine a person's guilt or innocence in advance; and so on.  The product, 'justice', is a resolution of antagonisms and conflicts in society, generally to the advantage of the dominant classes and to the particular disadvantage of the poorest sections of the working class.

To grasp the specific role of the police in this production process, let me just return to something Hogan-Howe said.  He referred to the disproportionate use of 'stop and search' powers by police against black and ethnic minorities.  This was a constant flash-point of struggle with the police in the twentieth century, more explicitly racialised in the post-war era.  Reducing its use would seem to be a plausible goal.  However, it is important not to get too swept up in the idea that there will be a reduction in racist harrassment by police.  Hogan-Howe favours a more targeted, smarter 'stop and search' policy - the technological solution again - and a more 'professional' manner of interaction between police and the subject of 'stop and search'.  Now, it is notable that this does not any specific legal or even necessarily administrative restraint.  Hogan-Howe mentions none, at any rate.  Rather, it involves discretion in the use of police powers.  And this discretion, coming under the rubric of 'professionalism', is something that actively undermines accountability, because it renders their conduct dependent on the immediate calculable variables of a given situation, for which no one can legislate or even dictate guidelines.  Gilroy and Simm point out that the logic of professionalization has always been to free the police from legal accountability.  

Moreover, and this is very far from the commonplace idea that the beat copper is an authentic proletarian, this freedom is one enjoyed in relation not just to suspects and courts, but principally in relation to senior officers and managers.  It doesn't matter what the official line is, the culture of rank and file policing, the officers' understanding of their role, based on training, ideology, the institutional matrix, the particular kinds of cop sociality, etc. determine far more than managerial edict how crimes are dealt with on a daily basis.  This is not to say that managers do not ultimately manage, that legal and political power over the police isn't ultimately centralised through a fairly inflexible hierarchy up to the executive.  It is not to say that the average police officer has complete freedom of action.  But the information on which policing is based, court judgements processed, and political decisions made, flows to a considerable extent up the chain from the police, giving them a degree of relative autonomy as professional managers of the social body.  In the context of techniques such as 'stop and search', this increases police freedoms to define situations as ones requiring intervention and coercion.  It empowers them to harrass, to brutalise, to demean, or to abstain from these if they see fit.  Reports, ethnographies, research, etc. all show where this leads.  The police in reality don't spend much of their time carrying out investigative work.  Most of the time, they do little.  They walk around, or drive around, or sit around.  But when active, they engage in routine confrontation with certain subaltern social groups, pursue vendettas or indeed criminal enterprises.  They work up 'results' based on certain tried and tested techniques, which may or may not coincide with actual crimes (of which they deal with a vanishingly small proportion at any rate).  And they do all this within their understanding of what their role is in relation to society, formed by racist and sexist occupational sub-cultures, hatred for the 'underclass', and so on.  What they're doing is exerting violence and coercion not only in defence of the legal and juridical forms of capitalist social relations, but in the defence of a moral and symbolic order, which expresses their own relationships to the dominant ideology, to the institutions they work in, the (professional middle) class they belong to, and to the social world they police.  And that is what policing is.

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Friday, January 20, 2012

The state of the 18th Brumaire posted by Richard Seymour

You have been penned in, kettled, assaulted and arrested.  You have had your protest broken up, your occupation invaded, your picket line disbanded.  Now you're facing something called 'Total Policing'.  Wherever you try to organise, you confront the state as the constant factor in your disorganisation.  Whether 'personated', as Marx puts it, by the riot cop, the senior civil servant, or the coalition minister, you find it is always there, resourceful, organised, centralised, almost always one or two steps ahead, almost always with a monopoly on political initiative.  Of course, the state represents itself as a popular, democratic institution, upholding the general will, maintaining law and order as the condition for the full participation of each in the political community.  Yet your experience suggests that something else is at work, and you have to ask: what sort of thing is the state?  Is it even a thing?  Is it an autonomous power over and against society, or does it 'represent' sectional (class) interests within it?  Is it an 'instrument' of the powerful or a venue of contestation?  What are its boundaries?  Where are its weaknesses?  How does its power accumulate, and disintegrate?

***

I was talking to Dan Hind several years ago over a fried lunch, and he explained his interest in what he termed "the mystery of the state".  I said, rather crudely, that I thought there was no mystery.  I invoked Lenin's famous de-mystification: the state is special bodies of armed men, prisons, bureaucracy, and so on.  He looked at me like I was a mad monk reciting arcane scripture.  It was a fair cop.  My answer was question-begging, rather like defining a football game as special bodies of uniformed men, balls, goalposts, etc.  I hadn't resolved the mystery at all, merely listed the obvious clues.  After all, football also consists of relations between its uniformed men, and between those and their managers, and in turn between those and their owners and shareholders, and between all of these and media companies, and shopping outlets, and paying fans.  It consists of a social-structural 'script', a set of codified rules with definite social origins, class-based cultural forms, political antagonisms (Rangers v Celtic etc), mass spectacle, commodity production, and so much more.  The "mystery of football", aside from its popularity, could only be resolved by disclosing the complex, mediated relations between all of these aspects.  I returned to my fried egg, dejectedly poking holes in the disgustingly glutinous texture of the solidified white.  In fairness, my summary of Lenin was rather... summary.  The widely recited phrase from State and Revolution is an extremely bowdlerised version of the argument if left at that.  Lenin was interested in the relationship between the state and social classes, its origin and development, its strategic role in class struggles, and so on.  His engagement with the marxist tradition - in what is, after all, intended to be a rousing pamphlet, a guide to action rather than a monograph or treatise - is extraordinarily sharp, even if he ultimately cleaves to an instrumentalist account of the state, which I think marxists must reject.  But enough about my namesake.

The mystery of the state would not go away, because the state would not go away.  Far from retreating to the perimeters of the 'economic', guarding its boundaries but otherwise allowing 'civil society' to go about its business in laissez-faire fashion, it was everywhere, pro-actively formulating and implementing agendas and strategies, domestically and overseas.  War, sanctions, special forces operations, internment, deportation and special rendition are only the most brute, mail-fisted manifestations of the state.  What about the coordination of ideological agendas on 'Britishness', 'integration', 'culture' and so on?  What about the coordination of bank bailouts, and subsequent austerity programmes?  What about 'workfare' and privatization?  In fact, it seemed increasingly apparent that whereas the capitalist class itself was constantly divided, constantly at its own throat, rarely capable of sustained class initiatives by itself, the state was always there doing something that in one way or another furthered the reproduction of capitalist relations in new ways.  And insofar as it did this, it seemed to be not just a state but a capitalist state.

Part of the mystery dissolved there and then.  It had been a mistake to try to penetrate the core of the state as a sui generis form.  There can be no general theory of the state.  The state is not an eternal form that recurs through successive ages, modes of production and social formations, and to read it as such tends to lead to a Hobbesian view of the state as an instrument for the suppression of 'anarchy' (social conflict).  At most, one can have a general, descriptive outline of what distinguishes a state apparatus (special bodies of armed men, etc), or a genealogy of types of state, noting the factors that recur (though even these factors will have an entirely different content, and stand in different relations to one another, depending on the historical epoch in which they are embedded).  But it is possible to have a theory of the capitalist state, and the best way to approach it seems to be confront the state in its setting, the social formation.

***

This is what the 18th Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte does, among other things.  Its refined lapidary style and mordant ironising also make it a literary classic.  This is a strange thing in a way, but what pomo theorists would call its 'mode of emplotment' is deployed with a deliberate pedagogical purpose.  The satirical deflation is intended to show how potentially world-historical events were always doomed to be reduced to low farce, how the movement of forces under various banners constituted a hollow pantomime of revolution.  The essay surveys the political circumstances of Louis Bonaparte's coup d'etat on 2nd December 1851.  This is where the title comes from: because, for Marx, this coup is a farcical repetition of Napoleon Bonaparte's tragic putsch on the 18th Brumaire VIII (9th November 1799).  From tragedy to farce - you see how literary parody is already inscribed in the first words of the text.  In its parodic appropriation of French history and bourgeois literary traditions, the 18th Brumaire penetrates layers of appearance - not so as to dispose of these layers as so much subterfuge (aha, behind the iron mask of Napoleon lies the unheroic, icy calculation of the bourgeois!) but to show their necessity and efficacy; not to dismiss them but to enact them, to show them at work.

Now, the 18th Brumaire is an extended analysis of a political situation.  But from that comes a subtle diagnosis of the French social formation, and particularly the French state, in its conjuncture.  The text's elegant movements between different levels of analysis, mediating between the abstract and the concrete (or, if you will, the concrete-in-thought), shifting from the political to the ideological to productive relations, its extremely subtle and suggestive analysis of masks and decoys, and the movements between semiosis and performance, discourse theory avant la lettre and strategic class analysis, make it an exceptionally rich study.  Though Marx was writing very shortly after the events, moreover, he did so in a determinedly historical, rather than journalistic, mode: the complex periodisation, the way Marx maps the temporal structure of events and charts the strategic possibilities in each phase, is indicative of how seriously he takes the historical aspect of his purpose.  He is determined to relate these events to deep historical dynamics, even before the dust has fully settled, and moreover to do so in a way that grasps their singularity.  That is why those marxist theorists most concerned with the idiographic, above all Gramsci, have continually returned to the 18th Brumaire.  This lengthy preface is by way of explaining and justifying the focus on one text by Marx to examine the question of the state.

***

In assessing the grotesqueries of 1848-51, Marx developed the elements of a theory of the state for the first time, a project he intended to continue in a sequel to Capital.  For while Louis Bonaparte would seem to have simply reversed the gains of the bourgeois revolution, reinstating the absolute monarchy and "the shamelessly simple domination of the sword and cross", Marx insisted that his regime was in fact something new.  And to understand it, one had to understand the social interests that had driven the struggle between the political forces and their situation in relation to one another that made it possible for Napoleon le Petit to take power.  There had been a failed revolution: somehow the French bourgeoisie and popular classes had been unable to repeat the monumental achievement of 1789.  The first difference between the two situations was that the era in which the bourgeoisie played the progressive historical role was being superceded.  The development of capitalist relations and the opposing interests of capital and labour meant that the bourgeoisie was becoming an increasingly conservative class.  The second was the growing fractionalisation of the ruling class, the major fractions being finance-capital, industry and landlords.  The latter were represented as rival monarchist factions in the Party of Order.  The Legitimists were allied to the landlords, while the Orleanists were allied to high finance.  In principle, these were supporters of different monarchic dynasties, but organised within this rivalry was the sectional struggle of competing class fractions for hegemony within the state.  And in that struggle, they waged a war for the support of subordinate classes: for example, the Legitimists sometimes posed as defenders of the working class against the exploitative industrial and financial capitalists.  Once again, the layers of appearance, the pageantry of ancient intrigue and birthright, codify and represent very modern conflicts.  The question of political representation, in its many senses, is at the centre of Marx's analysis here.   In this connection, note also that the landlords are included as a fraction of the capitalist class, because "large landed property, despite its feudal coquetry and pride of race, has been rendered thoroughly bourgeois by the developments of modern society".

At any rate, if the bourgeoisie was thus divided and weakened, the weakness of the proletariat, its youth and lack of development, meant that it was unable to take the leadership of national politics.  Nor was it able to form the class alliances that would be necessary for the left of the revolution to prevail.  Marx had written in 1848 of how it would be necessary for the urban workers to unite with rural proletarians and revolutionary peasants.  But in the end the urban working class was isolated.  So, there was a sort of stand-off between classes, a stasis that no one class is able to resolve.  The resolution of the stand-off fell to Louis-Napoleon Bonaparte, a dim gaffeur who nonetheless managed to channel a multitude of social interests in his person.  Napoleon le Petit, as Victor Hugo named him, had been the candidate of the monarchist right because he was seen as an exponent of order; of the industrialists, because of his liberal economic views; and of the passive majority of the rural classes, for whom the name of Bonaparte meant something (national greatness) as opposed to nothing.  "The most simple-minded man in France," Marx said, "acquired the most multifarious significance."  His main opponent, Cavaignac, was opposed by a similarly broad range of forces, including the socialists for whom he was tainted by his military career and his involvement in the massacre of workers.  The 'democratic socialist' Ledru-Rollin was distrusted by the urban working class for the same reason.  Bonaparte, meanwhile, also summoned the support of the so-called 'lumpenproletariat', consisting of declassed peasants and workers, soldiers, adventurers, crooks and so on.  It was on this social basis that the Society of 10 December, a pro-Bonaparte faction, rested.  But Bonaparte did not 'represent' all of these classes in the same way, an important point to which we'll return.  He took the presidency in alliance with the party of Order, before eventually disposing of the latter and declaring himself Napoleon III, and Emperor of the French.

Before launching into the issue of 'Bonapartism' and its relation to state theory, though, it is important to see in motion: the jostling of massed forces; the shifting of masses under different political banners; the fractionalisation of the ruling class; the complex and sudden changes in representative techniques; and the way in which the state is contested and occupied.  Using Marx's periodisation without attempting to imitate his style (which would be a severe discourtesy to the original), I will describe a loose schema of this process.

***

Marx begins with the First Period: "From 24 February to 4 May 1848. February period. Prologue. Universal brotherhood swindle."  The February revolution of 1848 had disposed of the monarchy, and brought into being the Second Republic.  The social forces united in the creation of this republic were, at first, bourgeois liberals and workers.  The 'swindle' was the bourgeoisie's promise to defend the interests of workers, the struggling petty bourgeoisie (particularly the artisans whose way of life was in crisis), and the educated for whom there were few posts of status available.  Thus bourgeois republicans promised to create a democratic and social republic.  They extended the franchise to millions of male workers, and relaxing repression and censorship.  Hundreds of newspapers flourished that spring.  In principle, Marx argues, the democratic republic is an ideal form of class rule for capital - in a phrase, the democratic republic is the dictatorship of the bourgeoisie.  But it also creates the political terrain in which the bourgeoisie's contest with the proletariat becomes open, and the 'swindle' of universal brotherhood melts into air.  The bourgeoisie initially honoured its social commitments by adding a proto-welfare state to the democratic republic, with National Workshops (effectively nationalised businesses) giving work to the unemployed. 100,000 were thus employed by the end of May.  All this, the better to consolidate their dictatorship under the banner of universal brotherhood: but this was where the 'swindle' began to break down.

The second period was that during which the republic and Constituent National Assembly are convoked, and is broken up into three sub-phases: "1. From  4  May  to  25  June 1848.  Struggle of  all  classes  against the proletariat. Defeat of the proletariat in the June days."  The bourgeoisie had already started to resent the taxes it had to pay to support the Workshops, and the growing pressure mounted by workers through the new democratic institutions.  It led a generalised shift to the right among an alliance of classes against the proletariat, and the April elections were won by conservatives and moderates.  By June, the workshops were being closed down.  The barricades were once more erected in the capital, and the bourgeois republicans became outright reactionaries.  Working class resistance in the capital was crushed by the National Guard, with 1500 killed during the suppression, 3000 murdered afterward, and 12000 deported to labour camps in colonial Algeria - or, in the familiar refrain of the bourgeoisie, order was restored.

The second sub-phase of the second period:  "From 25 June to 10 December 1848. Dictatorship of the pure bourgeois-republicans. Drafting of  the Constitution. Proclamation of a state of siege in Paris. The bourgeois dictatorship set aside on 10 December by the election of Bonaparte as President."  The defeat of the left and the working class left the state apparatus under the leadership of a "pure" bourgeois-republican bloc that was still moving to the right, albeit with a small opposition from radicals and the social democratic Montagne.  The constitution was revised in a highly conservative manner, striking out clauses supporting a 'right to work', and leaving education in the control of the Catholic church among other things.  Sub-phase 3: "From 20 December 1848 to 28 May 1849. Struggle of the Constituent Assembly with Bonaparte and with the party of Order in alliance with him. Passing of the Constituent Assembly. Fall of the republican bourgeoisie."  During this phase, the conservative Party of Order was increasingly dependent on Bonaparte, and increasingly at odds with the 'pure' bourgeois republicans.  The rule of the latter came to an end in the legislative elections of 28 May 1849, when the Party of Order won a substantial victory.  This reflected, as much as anything else, the continued right-ward swerve of the bourgeoisie, and its rejection of the republicans.

The third period is the most complex, punctuated by three sub-phases, the last of which is itself broken down into four parts. Sub-phase 1: "From 28 May 1849 to 13 June 1849. Struggle of the petty bourgeoisie with  the bourgeoisie and with Bonaparte. Defeat of the petty-bourgeois democracy."  While the right had won the elections, a radical minority of republicans and socialists, known as the Montagne, had been elected to the legislature with 25% of the vote.  For Marx, they represented a kind of petty bourgeois socialism which consisted mainly of the reform and perfection of capitalism: the big bourgeoisie exploits us through finance, so we want credit institutions; it crushes us through competition, so we want protection from the state; etc.  The Montagne continued to resist the Party of Order in parliament, and were expelled from the Assembly for their trouble.  Sub-phase 2: "From 13 June 1849 to 31 May 1850. Parliamentary dictatorship of the party of Order. It completes its rule by abolishing universal suffrage, but loses the parliamentary  ministry."  The Party of Order held the ministry in alliance with Louis-Napoleon, and held together a more or less stable government until elections were held again in 1850.  During these elections, the left swept the board in Paris.  In response, the Party of Order decided to get rid of universal male suffrage and cut about 30% of voters off the rolls. 

Sub-phase 3 contains the most complex and compressed sequence of movements.  Marx begins: "From  31  May  1850  to  2  December 1851.  Struggle between the parliamentary bourgeoisie and  Bonaparte."  This is the decisive movement that makes Louis-Napoleon's coup d'etat possible.  Marx breaks down the period into four discrete steps.  First, in the period until 12 January 1851, parliament lost "the supreme command of the army" to Louis-Napoleon.  Second, in the time until 11 April 1851, the weakness of the Party of Order in the Legislative Assembly forced it to form a coalition with the radicals it had previously expelled. Third, in the period until 9 October 1851, the Party of Order "decomposes into its separate constitutents", with growing antagonism between the executive (Louis-Napoleon) and parliament, and a "breach between the bourgeois parliament and press and the mass of the bourgeoisie".  Finally, in the period until the coup d'etat, the breach between parliament and executive power became more open.  Parliament was abandoned "by its own class, by the army, and by all the remaining classes".  Bourgeois rule passed away, with no resistance.  Foreknowledge of the coup and the ineptitude of its leadership did not prevent its success.  Thus:  "Victory of Bonaparte.  Parody of restoration of empire."
    ***

    As mentioned, the "parody" of imperial restoration here is in fact a modern tale of a failure of class capacities, a collapse in bourgeois initiative and leadership, the bathos of slogans betrayed before the ink has dried.  It is about a particular from of bourgeois state in which the bourgeoisie does not rule.  Prior to the revolution, the bourgeoisie had not ruled, merely "one faction of it: bankers, stock-exchange kings, railway kings, owners of coal and iron mines and forests, a part of the landed proprietors associated with them—the so-called finance aristocracy."  Also excluded were, of course, workers, the "petty bourgeoisie of all gradations" and the peasants.  Even the industrialists were in opposition.  "On the other hand, the smallest financial reform was wrecked due to the influence of the bankers."  At the end of the farce of 1848-51, the bourgeoisie was once again out of power.  In fact, no class had been able to take power: in power was the state apparatus itself, the increasingly powerful bureaucratic and military machinery, which had obtained a degree of autonomy from the contending social classes.  It was powerful enough, independent enough, that a drunken adventurer supported by the lumpenproletariat and smallholding peasants could suffice for its head.  This was, in a word, the 'Ceasarist', or the 'Bonapartist' regime. 

    There are three immediate elements to this kind of regime.  The first is the autonomy of the state apparatus from the contending classes; the second is the existence of a passive popular base for the regime; the third is that the bourgeoisie, by surrendering its political dominance, has retained its dominance at the level of productive relations.  The concept of Caesarism has since been developed in many directions.  Gramsci notably used the concept as a basis for the analysis of fascism, though it has also been a habitual recourse wherever populist governments of one sort or another have appeared.  Other theorists, often influenced by Althusser, have argued that the analysis confirms a more general 'relative autonomy' of the state apparatus.  These are leads that I do not intend to pursue at the moment; I merely list them to indicate that the theoretical (and thus political) consequences of this study, the Eighteenth Brumaire, are profound and contested.

    What I instead want to do is draw out some implications of Marx's survey.  First is the extraordinary power of the state as an apparatus in itself, the sort of power that could enable it to act as a more or less autonomous force in society.  This is far more evident today than in the period Marx was describing.  Second is the relation to social classes.  It is not merely the occupation of the state that determines its class role: the structure of the state itself is not class-neutral.  This is not to say that the class basis of a particular state can be read off from its various features.  After all, if a democratic republic is ideal for a bourgeoisie in rude health, a dictatorship of some sort (not necessarily a Caesarist dictatorship) may be its saviour in crisis.  The question, as Goran Therborn suggests, is what role the state plays in advancing, allowing or inhibiting the further reproduction of capitalist social relations.  Third is the relation between the state and civil society.  Although the state is not class-neutral - and for this reason, Marx takes the view that it must be dismantled rather than perfected - it is nonetheless a terrain which is traversed by contesting classes in representational struggles.  It is impossible to be indifferent to the forms of representation that take place.  Not because these are 'reflections' of 'real' class struggles taking place outside of the political system, but because they are highly mediated forms of class struggle in themselves.  And because the representation of classes within the state has a formative effect on the behaviour of classes within civil society.  When representation breaks down, the political forces in parliament become useless, unmoored: but the class forces they have tried to represent are thereby also disenfranchised.  Fourth, the state has a particular role in relation to the fractionalisation of the ruling class.  Such fractionalisation is an inevitable aspect of capitalist development, and is merely one of the ways in which a 'general' bourgeois interest is only possible under the hegemony of one of its fractions.  In addition to fractionalisation is the individuation of and competition between members of the capitalist class.  The result is that were it not for the state's ability to act as a unifying factor, organising the power of social classes within the apparatus itself, the capitalist class might be constantly, as I suggested earlier, at its own throat.  Poulantzas suggested that the separation of powers - executive, legislative and judicial - could be understood in terms of a distribution of power in which the hegemonic class or fraction controls the executive.  Either way, the state must play a pro-active role in securing the unity of the dominant classes; and by extension the disunity of the dominated classes.

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