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Keith Hart on the
Informal Economy, the Great Transformation, and the Humanity of Corporations














International Relations
has long focused on the formal relations between states; in the same way,
economists have long focused exclusively on formal economic activities. If by
now that sounds outdated, it is only because of the work of Keith Hart. Famous
for coining the distinction between the formal and the informal economy in the
1970s, Hart is a critical scholar who engages head-on with some of the world's
central political-economic challenges. In this Talk, he, amongst others, discusses the value of the distinction 40
years after; how we need to rethink The
Great Transformation nearly a century later; and how we need to undo the
legal equivalence of corporations to humans, instituted nearly 150 years back.














Print version of this Talk (pdf)




What is, according to you, the
central challenge or principal debate in International Relations? And what is
your position regarding this challenge/in this debate?







I think it is the lack of fit between politics, which
is principally national, and the world economy, which is global. In particular,
the system of money has escaped from its national controls, but politics, public
rhetoric aside, has not evolved to the point where adequate responses to our
common economic problems can be posed. At this point, the greatest challenge is
to extend our grasp of the problems we face beyond the existing national
discussions and debates. Most of the problems we see today in the world—and the
economic crisis is only one example—are not confined to a single country.







For me, the question is how we can extend our research
from the local to the global. Let the conservatives restrict themselves to
their national borders. This is not to say I believe that political solutions
to the economic problems the world faces are readily available.  Indeed, it is possible that we are entering
another period of war and revolution, similar to 1776-1815 or 1914-1945. Only
after prolonged conflict and much loss might the world reach something like the
settlement that followed 1945. This was not only a settlement of wartime
politics, but also a framework for the economic politics of the peace,
responding to problems that arose most acutely between the wars.  It sounds tragic, but my point in raising the
possibility now is to remind people that there may be even more catastrophic
consequences at stake that they realize already. We need to confront these and
mobilize against them. When I go back in history, I am pessimistic about
resolving the world's economic problems soon, since the people who got us into
this situation are still in power and are still pursuing broadly the same
policies without any sign of them being changed. I believe that they will bring
us all into a much more drastic situation than we are currently facing. Yet in
some way we will be accountable if we ignore the obvious signs all around us.











How did you arrive at where you currently are in your thinking about IR?







My original work in West Africa arose out of a view that
the post-colonial regimes offered political recipes that could have more
general relevance for the world. I actually believed that the new states were
in a position to provide solutions, if you like, to the corrupt and decadent
political structures that we had in the West. That's why, when we were demonstrating
outside the American embassies in the '60s, we chanted the names of the great
Third World emancipation leaders—Frantz Fanon, Kwame Nkrumah, Fidel Castro, and so
on.







So for me, the question has always been whether
Africans, in seeking emancipation from a long history of slavery, colonialism, apartheid
and postcolonial failure, might be able to change the world. I still think it
could be and I'm quite a bit more optimistic about the outcome now than I have
been for most of the last fifty years. We live in a racialized world order
where Africa acts as the most striking symbol of inequality. The drive for a
more equal world society will necessarily entail a shift in the relationship
between Africa and the rest of the world. I have been pursuing this question
for the last thirty years or more. What interests me at the moment is the
politics of African development in the coming decades.







Africa began the twentieth century as the least populated
and urbanized continent. It's gone through a demographic and urban explosion
since then, doubling its share
of world population in a century. In 2050, the UN predicts that 24% of the world
population will be in Africa, and in 2100, 35% (read the report here, pdf)! This is because Africa is growing
at 2.5% a year while the rest of the world is ageing fast. Additionally, 7 out
of the 10 fastest growing economies in the world are now African—Asian
manufacturers already know that Africa holds the key to the future of the world
economy.







But, besides Africa as a place, if you will, a number
of anti-colonial intellectuals have played a big role in influencing me. The
most important event in the twentieth century was the anti-colonial revolution.
Peoples forced into world society by Western Imperialism fought to establish
their own independent relationship to it. The leading figures of that struggle
are, to my mind, still the most generative thinkers when we come to consider
our own plight and direction. My mentor was the Trinidadian writer C.L.R. James, with whom I spent a
number of years toward the end of his life. I am by temperament a classicist; I
like to read the individuals who made a big difference to the way we think now.
The anti-colonial intellectuals were the most important thinkers of the 20th
century, by which I mean Gandhi, Fanon and James.







But I've also pursued a very classical, Western
trajectory in seeking to form my own thinking. When I was an undergraduate, I
liked Durkheim and as a graduate student Weber. When I was a young lecturer, I
became a Marxist; later, when I went to the Carribbean, I discovered Hegel,
Kant and Rousseau; and by the time I wrote my book on money, The Memory Bank,
the person I cited more than anyone else was John Locke. By then I realized I
had been moving backwards through the greats of Western philosophy and social
theory, starting with the Durkheim school of sociology. Now I see them as a set
of possible references that I can draw on eclectically. Marx is still probably
the most important influence, although Keynes, Simmel and Polanyi have also shaped my
recent work. I suppose my absolute favorite of all those people is Jean-Jacques
Rousseau for his Discourse on Inequality and his inventive
approach to writing about how to get from actual to possible worlds.











What would a student need (dispositions, skills) to become a specialist
in IR or understand the world in a global way?







In your 20s and 30s, your greatest commitment should
be to experience the world in the broadest way possible, which means learning
languages, traveling, and being open to new experiences. I think the kind of
vision that I had developed over the years was not one that I had originally
and the greatest influence on it was the time I spent in Ghana doing my
doctoral fieldwork; indeed, I have not had an experience that so genuinely
transformed me since!







Even so, I found it very difficult to write a book
based on that fieldwork. I moved from my ethnographic investigations into a
literature review of the political economy of West African agriculture, and it
turns out that I am actually not an ethnographer, and am more interested in
surveying literature concerning the questions that interest me. I am still an
acute observer of everyday life; but I don't base my 'research' on it. Young people
should both extend their comparative reach in a practical way and dig very
deeply into circumstances that they encounter, wherever that may be. Above all,
they should retain a sense of the uniqueness of their own life trajectory as
the only basis for doing something new. This matters more than any professional
training.











Now we see spectacular
growth rates in African countries, as you mentioned, one of which is the DRC.
How can we make sense of these formal growth rates: are they representative of
the whole economies of these countries, or do they only refer to certain
economic tendencies?







The whole question of measuring economic growth is a
technical one, and it's flawed, and I only use it in the vaguest sense as a
general indicator. For example, I think it's more important that Kenya, for
example, is the world leader in mobile phone banking, and also a leader in
recycling old computers for sale cheaply to poor people.







The political dispensation in Africa—the combination
of fragmented states and powerful foreign interests and the predatory actions
of the leaders of these states on their people -- especially the restrictions
they impose on the movements of people and goods and money and so on – is still
a tremendous problem. I think that the political fragmentation of Africa is the
main obstacle to achieving economic growth.







But at the same time, as someone who has lived in
Africa for many years, it's very clear that in some countries, certainly not
all, the economies are very significantly on the move. It's not--in principle—that
this will lead to durable economic growth, but it is the case that the cities
are expanding fast, Africans are increasing their disposable income and it's the
only part of the world where the people are growing so significantly. Africa is
about to enter what's called the demographic dividend that comes when the
active labor force exceeds the number of dependents. India has just gone
through a similar phase.







The Chinese and others are heavily committed to taking
part in this, obviously hoping to direct Africa's economic growth in their own
interest. This is partly because the global economy is over the period of
growth generated by the Chinese manufacturing exports and the entailed infrastructure
and construction boom, which was itself an effect of the greatest shift from the countryside to the city in history. Now, the Chinese
realize, the next such boom will be—can only take place—in Africa.







I'm actually not really interested in technical
questions of how to measure economic growth. In my own writing about African
development, I prefer anecdotes. Like for example, Nollywood—the Nigerian film industry—which has just past
Bollywood as the second largest in the world! You mention the Congo which I
believe holds the key to Africa's future. The region was full of economic
dynamism before King Leopold took it over and its people have shown great
resilience since Mobutu was overthrown and Rwandan and Ugandan generals took
over the minerals-rich Eastern Congo. Understanding this history is much more
important than measuring GDP, but statistics of this kind have their uses if
approached with care.











Is it possible to
understand the contemporary economic predicament that we are seeing, which in
the Western world is referred to as the "crisis", without attributing it to
vague agencies or mechanisms such as neoliberalism?







I have written at great length about the world
economic crisis paying special attention to the problems of the Eurozone. My belief
is that it is not simply a financial crisis or a debt crisis. We are actually
witnessing the collapse of the dominant economic form of the last century and a
half, which I call national capitalism—the attempt to control markets, money
and accumulation through central bureaucracies in the interests of a presumed
cultural community of national citizens.







The term neoliberalism is not particularly useful, but
I try to lay out the history of modern money and why and how national
currencies are in fact being replaced. That, to my mind, is a more precise way
of describing the crisis than calling it neoliberal. On the other hand, neoliberalism does refer to
the systematic privatization of public interests which has become normal over
the last three or four hundred years. The bourgeois revolution claimed to have
separated public and private interests, but I don't think it ever did so. For
example, the Bank of England, the Banque de France, and the Federal Reserve are
all private institutions that function behind a smokescreen of being public
agencies.







It's always been the case that private interests
corrupted public institutions and worked to deprive citizens of the ability to
act purposefully under an ideological veil of liberty. But in the past, they
tried to hide it. The public wasn't supposed to know what actually went on
behind the scenes and indeed modern social science was invented to ensure that
they never knew. What makes neoliberalism new is that they now boast about it
and even claim that it's in everyone's interest to diminish public goods and
use whatever is left for private ends—that's what neoliberalism is.







It's a naked grab for public resources and it's also a
shift in the fundamental dynamic of capitalism from production for profit
through sales tow varieties of rent-seeking. In fact, Western capitalism is now
a system for extracting rents, rather than producing profits. Rents are income
secured by political privilege such as the dividends of patents granted to Big
Pharma or the right to control distribution of recycled movies. This has got
nothing to do with competitive or free markets and much opposition to where we
are now is confused as a result. Sometimes I think western capitalism has
reverted to the Old Regime that it once replaced—from King George and the East
India Company to George W and Halliburton. If so, we need another liberal
revolution, but it won't take place in the North Atlantic societies.











In your recent work,
you refer to The Great Transformation, which invokes Karl Polanyi's famous
analysis of the
growth of 19th century capitalism and industrialization. How can Polanyi
help us to make sense of contemporary global economy, and where does this
inspiring work need to be complemented? In other words, what is today's Great Transformation
in light of Polanyi?







First of all, the
Great Transformation is a brilliant book. I have never known anyone who
didn't love it from the first reading. The great message of Polanyi's work is
the spirit in which he wrote that book, regardless of the components of his
theory. He had a passionate desire to explain the mess that world society had
reached by the middle of the 20th century, and he provided an
explanation. It's always been a source of inspiration for me.







A central idea of Polanyi's is that the economy was
always embedded in society and Victorian capitalism disembedded it. One problem
is that it is not clear whether the economy ever was actually disembedded (for
example capitalism is embedded in state institutions and the private social
networks mentioned just now) or whether the separation occurs at the level of
ideology, as in free market economics. Polanyi was not against markets as such,
but rather against market fundamentalism of the kind that swept Victorian
England and has us in its grip today. The political question is whether politics
can serve to protect society from the excesses produced by this disembedding;
or whether it lends itself to further separation of the economy from society.







And I would say that Polanyi's biggest failure was to
claim that what happened in the 19th century was the rise of "market
society". This concept misses entirely the bureaucratic revolution that was
introduced from the 1860s onwards based on a new alliance between capitalists
and landlords which led to a new synthesis of states and corporations aiming to
develop mass production and consumption. Polanyi could not anticipate what
actually happened after he wrote his book in 1944. An American empire of free
trade was built on a tremendous bureaucratic revolution. This drew on
techniques and theories of control developed while fighting a war on all
fronts. The same war was the source of the technologies that culminated late in
the digital revolution. Karl Polanyi's interpretation of capitalism as a market
economy doesn't help us much to understand that. In fact, he seems to have
thought that bureaucracy and planning were an antidote to capitalist market
economy.







If you ask me what is today's great transformation, I
would prefer to treat the last 200 years as a single event, that is, a period
in which the world population increased from one billion to seven billion, when
the proportion of people living in cities grew from under 3% to around half,
and where energy production increased on average 3% a year. The Great Transformation
is this leap of mankind from reliance on the land into living in cities. It has
been organized by a variety of institutions, including cities, capitalist
markets, nation-states, empires, regional federations, machine industry, telecommunications
networks, financial structures, and so on. I'm prepared to say that in the
twentieth century national capitalism was the dominant economic form, but by no
means all you need to know about if you want to make a better world.







I prefer to look at the economy as being organized by
a plural set of institutions, including various political forms. The Great Transformation
in Polanyi's sense was not really the same Great Transformation that Marx and
Engels observed in Victorian England—the idea that a new economic system was
growing up there that would transform the world. And it did! Polanyi and Marx
had different views (as well as some common ideas), but both missed what
actually happened, which is the kind of capitalism whose collapse is constitutes
the Great Transformation for us today. The last thirty years of financial
imperialism are similar to the three decades before the First World War. After
that phase collapsed, thirty years of world war and economic depression were
the result. I believe the same will happen to us! Maybe we can do something
about it, but only if our awareness is historically informed in a
contemporarily relevant way.











The distinction between
states and markets really underpins much of what we understand about the workings
of world economy and politics. Even when we just say "oh, that's not economic"
or "that's not rational", we invoke a separation. How can we deal with this
separation?







This state-market division comes back to the bourgeois
revolution, which was an attempt to win freedom from political interference for
private economic actors. I've been arguing that states and markets were always
in bed together right from the beginning thousands of years ago, and they still
are! The revolution of the mid 19th century involved a shift from
capitalists representing workers against the landed aristocracy to a new
alliance between them and the traditional enforcers to control the industrial
and criminal classes flocking into the cities. A series of linked revolutions
in all the main industrial countries during the 1860s and early 70s—from the
American civil war to the French Third Republic via the Meiji Restoration and
German unification—brought this alliance to power.







Modernity was thus a compromise between traditional
enforcers and industrial capitalists and this dualism is reflected in the
principal social form, the nation-state. This uneasy partnership has marked the
relationship between governments and corporations ever since. I think that we
are now witnessing a bid of the corporations for independence, for home rule,
if you like. Perhaps, having won control of the political process, they feel
than can go ahead to the next stage without relying on governments.  The whole discourse of 'corporate social responsibility'
implies that they could take on legal and administrative functions that had
been previously 'insourced' to states. It is part of a trend whereby the
corporations seek to make a world society in which they are the only citizens
and they no longer depend on national governments except for local police
functions. I think that it is a big deal—and this is happening under our noses!







Both politicians and economic theorists (OliverWilliamson got a Nobel prize for
developing Coase's theory of the form along these lines)
are proposing that we need to think again about what functions should be
internal to the firm and what should be outside. Perhaps it was a mistake to
outsource political control to states and war could be carried out by private
security firms. The ground for all of this was laid in the late 19th
century when the distinction in law between real and artificial persons was
collapsed for business enterprises so that the US Supreme Court can protect
corporate political spending in the name of preserving their human rights!
Corporations have greater wealth, power and longevity than individual citizens.
Until we can restore their legal separateness from the rest of humanity and
find the political means of restricting their inexorable rise, resistance will
be futile. There is a lot of intellectual and political work still to be done
and, as I have said, a lot of pain to come before more people confront the
reality of their situation.











What role do
technological innovations play in your understanding and promoting of shifts in
the way that we organize societies? Is it a passive thing or a driver of
change?







I wrote a book, the
Memory Bank: Money in an Unequal World
(read it here, with the introduction
here), which centered on a
very basic question: what would future generations consider is interesting
about us? In the late '90s, the dot com boom was the main game in town. It
seemed obvious that the rise of the internet was the most important thing and
that our responses to it would have significant consequences for future
generations.







When I started writing it, I was interested in the
democratic potential of the new media; but most of my friends saw them as a new
source of inequality – digital exclusion, dominance of the big players and so
on. I was accused of being optimistic, but I had absorbed from CLR James a
response to such claims. It is not a question of being optimistic or
pessimistic, but of identifying what the sides are in the struggle to define
society's trajectory. In this case the sides are bureaucracy and the people. Of
course the former wish to confine our lives within narrow limits that they
control in a process that culminates as totalitarianism. But the rest of us
want to increase the scope for self-expression in our daily lives; we want
democracy and the force of the peoples of world is growing, not least in Africa
which for so long has been excluded from the benefits of modern civilization.
Of course there are those who wish to control the potential of the internet
from the top; but everywhere people are making space for themselves in this
revolution. When I see how Africans have moved in the mobile phone phase of
this revolution, I am convinced that there is much to play for in this
struggle. What matters is to do your best for your side, not to predict which
side will win. Speaking personally, Web 2.0 has been an
unmitigated boon for me in networking and dissemination, although I am aware
that some think that corporate capital is killing off the internet. A lot depends
on your perspective. I grew up learning Latin and Greek grammar. The
developments of the last 2-3 decades seem like a miracle to me. I guess that
gives me some buoyancy if not optimism as such.







It's obvious enough to me that any democratic response
to the dilemmas we face must harness the potential of the new universal media.
That's the biggest challenge. But equally, it's not clear which side is going
to win. I'm not saying that our side, the democratic side, is going to beat the
bureaucratic side. I just know which side I'm on! And I'm going to do my best
for our side. Our side is the side that would harness the democratic potential
of the new media. In the decade or more since I wrote my book on money and the
internet, I have become more focused on the threat posed by the corporations
and more accepting of the role of governments. But that could change too. And I
am mindful of the role the positive role that some capitalists played in the
classical liberal revolutions of the United States, France and Italy.











Final Question. I would
like to ask you about the distinction between formal and informal economy which
you are famous for having coined. How did you arrive at the distinction? Does the
term, the dichotomy, still with have the same analytical value for you today?








Around 1970, there was a universal consensus that only states could organize economies for development. You were either a Marxist or a Keynesian, but there were no liberal economists with any influence at that time. In my first publication on the topic (Informal Income Opportunities and Urban Employment in Ghana, read it here, pdf)—which got picked up by academics and the International Labor Organization—I was reacting against that; the idea promoted by a highly formal economics and bureaucratic practice that the state as an idea as the only actor. In fact, people in Third World cities engaged in all kinds of economic activities, which just weren't recognized as such. So my impulse was really empiricist—to use my ethnographic observations to show that people were doing a lot more than they were supposed to be doing, as recorded in official statistics or discussed by politicians and economists.






Essentially, I made a distinction between those things
which were defined by formal regulation and those that lay outside it. I posed
the question how does it affect our understanding in the development process to
know more what people are doing outside the formal framework of the economy.
And remember, this came up in West Africa, which did not have as strong a colonial
tradition as in many other parts of Africa. African cities there were built and
provisioned by Africans. There were not enough white people there to build
these cities or to provide food and transport, housing, clothing and the rest
of it.







In my book on African agriculture, I went further and
argued that the cities were not the kind of engines of change that many people
imagined that they were, but were in fact an extension of rural civilizations
that had effectively not been displaced by colonialism, at least in that
region. Now if you ask me how useful I think it is today, what happened since
then of course is neoliberal globalization, for want of a better term, which of
course hinges on deregulation. So, as a result of neoliberal deregulation, vast
areas of the economy are no longer shaped by law, and these include many of the
activities of finance, including offshore banking, hedge funds, shadow banking,
tax havens, and so on. It also includes the criminal activities of the
corporations themselves. I've written a paper on my blog called "How the
informal economy took over the world" which argues that we are witnessing the
collapse of the post-war Keynesian consensus that sought to manage the economy in
the public interest through law and in other ways that have been dismantled; so,
it's a free-for-all. In some sense, the whole world is now an informal economy,
which means, of course, that the term is not as valuable analytically as it
once was. If it's everything, then we need some new words.







The mistake I made with other people who followed me was
to identify the informal economy with poor slum dwellers. I argued that even
for them, they were not only in the informal economy, which was not a separate
place, but that all of them combined the formal and informal in some way. But
what I didn't pay much attention to was the fact that the so-called formal
economy was also the commanding heights of the informal economy—that the
politicians and the civil servants were in fact the largest informal operators.
I realize that any economy must be informal to some degree, but it is also
impossible for an economy to be entirely informal. There always have to be
rules, even if they take a form that we don't acknowledge as being
bureaucratically normal like, for example, kinship or religion or criminal
gangs. So that's another reason why it seems to me that the distinction has
lost its power.







At the time, it was a valuable service to point to the
fact that many people were doing things that were escaping notice. But once
what they were doing had been noticed, then the usefulness of the distinction
really came into question. I suppose in retrospect that the idea of an informal
economy was a gesture towards realism, to respect what people really do in the
spirit of ethnography. I have taken that idea to another level recently in mywork on the human economy at the University of Pretoria in South Africa. Here, in addition to
privileging the actors' point of view and their everyday lives, we wish to
address the human predicament at more inclusive levels than the local or even
the national. Accordingly, our interdisciplinary research program (involving a
dozen postdocs from around the world, including Africa, and 8 African doctoral
students) seeks ways of extending our conceptual and empirical reach to take in
world society and humanity as a whole. This is easier said than done, of
course.







Keith
Hart is Extraordinary Visiting Professor in the Centre for the Advancement of
Scholarship and Co-Director of the Human Economy Program at the University of
Pretoria, South Africa. He is also centennial professor of Economic Anthropology at the LSE.











Related links










Faculty Profile at U-London


Personal webpage


Read Hart's Notes towards an Anthropology of the Internet (2004, Horizontes Antropológicos) here (pdf)


Read Hart's Marcel Mauss: In Pursuit of a Whole (2007, Comparative Studies in Society and History) here (pdf)


Read Hart's Between Democracy and the People: A Political History of Informality (2008 DIIS working paper) here (pdf)


Read Hart's Why the Eurocrisis Matters to Us All (Scapegoat Journal) here (pdf)









Print version of this Talk (pdf)

Daniel Deudney on Mixed Ontology, Planetary Geopolitics, and Republican Greenpeace



This is the second in a series of Talks dedicated to the technopolitics of International Relations, linked to the forthcoming double volume 'The Global Politics of Science and Technology' edited by Maximilian Mayer, Mariana Carpes, and Ruth Knoblich 






World politics increasingly abrasions with the limits of state-centric thinking, faced as the world is with a set of issues that affect not only us collectively as mankind, but also the planet itself. While much of IR theorizing seems to shirk such realizations, the work of Daniel Deudney has consistently engaged with the complex problems engendered by the entanglements of nuclear weapons, the planetary environment, space exploration, and the kind of political associations that might help us to grapple with our fragile condition as humanity-in-the world. In this elaborate Talk, Deudney—amongst others—lays out his understanding of the fundamental forces that drive both planetary political progress and problems; discusses the kind of ontological position needed to appreciate these problems; and argues for the merits of a republican greenpeace model to political organization.





Print version of this Talk (pdf)







What is, according to you, the biggest challenge / principal debate in current IR? What is your position or answer to this challenge / in this debate?



The study of politics is the study of human politics and the human situation has been—and is being—radically altered by changes in the human relationships with the natural and material worlds. In my view, this means IR and related intellectual disciplines should focus on better understanding the emergence of the 'global' and the 'planetary,' their implications for the overall human world and its innumerable sub-worlds, and their relations with the realization of basic human needs. The global and the planetary certainly don't comprise all of the human situation, but the fact that the human situation has become global and planetary touches every other facet of the human situation, sometimes in fundamental ways. The simple story is that the human world is now 'global and planetary' due to the explosive transformation over the last several centuries of science-based technology occurring within the geophysical and biophysical features of planet Earth. The natural Earth and its relationship with humans have been massively altered by the vast amplifications in dispersed human agency produced by the emergence and spread of machine-based civilization. The overall result of these changes has been the emergence of a global- and planetary-scale material and social reality that is in some ways similar, but in other important ways radically different, from earlier times. Practices and structures inherited from the pre-global human worlds have not adequately been adjusted to take the new human planetary situation into account and their persistence casts a long and partially dark shadow over the human prospect.



A global and planetary focus is also justified—urgently—by the fact that the overall human prospect on this planet, and the fate of much additional life on this planet, is increasingly dependent on the development and employment of new social arrangements for interacting with these novel configurations of material and natural possibilities and limits. Human agency is now situated, and is making vastly fateful choices—for better or worse—in a sprawling, vastly complex aggregation of human-machine-nature assemblies which is our world. The 'fate of the earth' now partly hinges on human choices, and helping to make sure these choices are appropriate ones should be the paramount objective of political scientific and theoretical efforts. However, no one discipline or approach is sufficient to grapple successfully with this topic. All disciplines are necessary. But there are good reasons to believe that 'IR' and related disciplines have a particularly important possible practical role to play. (I am also among those who prefer 'global studies' as a label for the enterprise of answering questions that cut across and significantly subsume both the 'international' and the 'domestic.')



My approach to grappling with this topic is situated—like the work of now vast numbers of other IR theorists and researchers of many disciplines—in the study of 'globalization.' The now widely held starting point for this intellectual effort is the realization that globalization has been the dominant pattern or phenomenon, the story of stories, over at least the last five centuries. Globalization has been occurring in military, ecological, cultural, and economic affairs. And I emphasize—like many, but not all, analysts of globalization—that the processes of globalization are essentially dependent on new machines, apparatuses, and technologies which humans have fabricated and deployed. Our world is global because of the astounding capabilities of machine civilization. This startling transformation of human choice by technological advance is centrally about politics because it is centrally about changes in power. Part of this power story has been about changes in the scope and forms of domination. Globalization has been, to state the point mildly, 'uneven,' marked by amplifications of violence and domination and predation on larger and wider scales. Another part of the story of the power transformation has been the creation of a world marked by high degrees of interdependence, interaction, speed, and complexity. These processes of globalization and the transformation of machine capabilities are not stopping or slowing down but are accelerating. Thus, I argue that 'bounding power'—the growth, at times by breathtaking leaps, of human capabilities to do things—is now a fundamental feature of the human world, and understanding its implications should, in my view, be a central activity for IR scholars.



In addressing the topic of machine civilization and its globalization on Earth, my thinking has been centered first around the developing of 'geopolitical' lines argument to construct a theory of 'planetary geopolitics'. 'Geopolitics' is the study of geography, ecology, technology, and the earth, and space and place, and their interaction with politics. The starting point for geopolitical analysis is accurate mapping. Not too many IR scholars think of themselves as doing 'geography' in any form. In part this results from of the unfortunate segregation of 'geography' into a separate academic discipline, very little of which is concerned with politics. Many also mistake the overall project of 'geopolitics' with the ideas, and egregious mistakes and political limitations, of many self-described 'geopoliticans' who are typically arch-realists, strong nationalists, and imperialists. Everyone pays general lip service to the importance of technology, but little interaction occurs between IR and 'technology studies' and most IR scholars are happy to treat such matters as 'technical' or non-political in character. Despite this general theoretical neglect, many geographic and technological factors routinely pop into arguments in political science and political theory, and play important roles in them.



Thinking about the global and planetary through the lens of a fuller geopolitics is appealing to me because it is the human relationship with the material world and the Earth that has been changed with the human world's globalization. Furthermore, much of the actual agendas of movements for peace, arms control, and sustainability are essentially about alternative ways of ordering the material world and our relations with it. Given this, I find an approach that thinks systematically about the relations between patterns of materiality and different political forms is particularly well-suited to provide insights of practical value for these efforts.



The other key focus of my research has been around extending a variety of broadly 'republican' political insights for a cluster of contemporary practical projects for peace, arms control, and environmental stewardship ('greenpeace'). Even more than 'geopolitics,' 'republicanism' is a term with too many associations and meanings. By republics I mean political associations based on popular sovereignty and marked by mutual limitations, that is, by 'bounding power'—the restraint of power, particularly violent power—in the interests of the people generally. Assuming that security from the application of violence to bodies is a primary (but not sole) task of political association, how do republican political arrangements achieve this end? I argue that the character and scope of power restraint arrangements that actually serve the fundamental security interests of its popular sovereign varies in significant ways in different material contexts.



Republicanism is first and foremost a domestic form, centered upon the successive spatial expansion of domestic-like realms, and the pursuit of a constant political project of maximally feasible ordered freedom in changed spatial and material circumstances. I find thinking about our global and planetary human situation from the perspective of republicanism appealing because the human global and planetary situation has traits—most notably high levels of interdependence, interaction, practical speed, and complexity—that make it resemble our historical experience of 'domestic' and 'municipal' realms. Thinking with a geopolitically grounded republicanism offers insights about global governance very different from the insights generated within the political conceptual universe of hierarchical, imperial, and state-centered political forms. Thus planetary geopolitics and republicanism offers a perspective on what it means to 'Think Globally and Act Locally.' If we think of, or rather recognize, the planet as our locality, and then act as if the Earth is our locality, then we are likely to end up doing various approximations of the best-practice republican forms that we have successfully developed in our historically smaller domestic localities.





How did you arrive at where you currently are in IR?



Like anybody else, the formative events in my intellectual development have been shaped by the thick particularities of time and place. 'The boy is the father of the man,' as it is said. The first and most direction-setting stage in the formation of my 'green peace' research interests was when I was in 'grade school,' roughly the years from age 6-13. During these years my family lived in an extraordinary place, St Simons Island, a largely undeveloped barrier island off the coast of southern Georgia. This was an extremely cool place to be a kid. It had extensive beaches, and marshes, as well as amazing trees of gargantuan proportions. My friends and I spent much time exploring, fishing, camping out, climbing trees, and building tree houses. Many of these nature-immersion activities were spontaneous, others were in Boy Scouts. This extraordinary natural environment and the attachments I formed to it, shaped my strong tendency to see the fates of humans and nature as inescapably intertwined. But the Boy Scouts also instilled me with a sense of 'virtue ethics'. A line from the Boy Scout Handbook captures this well: 'Take a walk around your neighborhood. Make a list of what is right and wrong about it. Make a plan to fix what is not right.' This is a demotic version of Weber's political 'ethic of responsibility.' This is very different from the ethics of self-realization and self-expression that have recently gained such ground in America and elsewhere. It is now very 'politically incorrect' to think favorably of the Boy Scouts, but I believe that if the Scouting experience was universally accessible, the world would be a much improved place.



My kid-in-nature life may sound very Tom Sawyer, but it was also very Tom Swift. My friends and I spent much of our waking time reading about the technological future, and imaginatively play-acting in future worlds. This imaginative world was richly fertilized by science fiction comic books, television shows, movies, and books. Me and my friends—juvenile technological futurists and techno-nerds in a decidedly anti-intellectual culture—were avid readers of Isaac Asimov, Arthur C. Clarke, Ray Bradbury, and Robert Heinlein, and each new issue of Analog was eagerly awaited. While we knew we were Americans, my friends and I had strong inclinations to think of ourselves most essentially as 'earthlings.' We fervently discussed extraterrestrial life and UFOs, and we eagerly awaited the day, soon to occur, we were sure, in which we made 'first contact.' We wanted to become, if not astronauts, then designers and builders of spaceships. We built tree houses, but we filled them with discarded electronics and they became starships. We rode bicycles, but we lugged about attaché cases filled with toy ray guns, transistor radios, firecrackers, and homemade incendiary devices. We built and fired off rockets, painstaking assembled plastic kit models of famous airplanes and ships, and then we would blow them apart with our explosives. The future belonged to technology, and we fancied ourselves its avant garde.



Yet the prospect of nuclear Armageddon seemed very real. We did 'duck and cover' drills at school, and sat for two terrifying weeks through the Cuban Missile Crisis. My friends and I had copies of the Atomic Energy Commission manuals on 'nuclear effects,' complete with a slide-rule like gadget that enabled us to calculate just what would happen if near-by military bases were obliterated by nuclear explosions. Few doubted that we were, in the words of a pop song, 'on the eve of destruction.' These years were also the dawning of 'the space age' in which humans were finally leaving the Earth and starting what promised to be an epic trek, utterly transformative in its effects, to the stars. My father worked for a number of these years for a large aerospace military-industrial firm, then working for NASA to build the very large rockets needed to launch men and machines to the moon and back. My friends and I debated fantastical topics, such as the pros and cons of emigrating to Mars, and how rapidly a crisis-driven exodus from the earth could be organized.



Two events that later occurred in the area where I spent my childhood served as culminating catalytic events for my greenpeace thinking. First, some years after my family moved away, the industrial facility to mix rocket fuel that had been built by the company my father worked for, and that he had helped put into operation, was struck by an extremely violent 'industrial accident,' which reduced, in one titanic flash, multi-story concrete and steel buildings filled with specialized heavy industrial machinery (and everyone in them) into a grey powdery gravel ash, no piece of which was larger than a fist. Second, during the late 1970s, the US Navy acquired a large tract of largely undeveloped marsh and land behind another barrier island (Cumberland), an area 10-15 miles from where I had lived, a place where I had camped, fished, and hunted deer. The Navy dredged and filled what was one of the most biologically fertile temperate zone estuaries on the planet. There they built the east coast base for the new fleet of Trident nuclear ballistic missile submarines, the single most potent violence machine ever built, thus turning what was for me the wildest part of my wild-encircled childhood home into one of the largest nuclear weapons complexes on earth. These events catalyzed for me the realization that there was a great struggle going on, for the Earth and for the future, and I knew firmly which side I was on.



My approach to thinking about problems was also strongly shaped by high school debate, where I learned the importance of 'looking at questions from both sides,' and from this stems my tendency to look at questions as debates between competing answers, and to focus on decisively engaging, defeating, and replacing the strongest and most influential opposing positions. As an undergraduate at Yale College, I started doing Political Theory. I am sure that I was a very vexing student in some ways, because (the debater again) I asked Marxist questions to my liberal and conservative professors, and liberal and conservative ones to my Marxist professors. Late in my sophomore year, I had my epiphany, my direction-defining moment, that my vocation would be an attempt to do the political theory of the global and the technological. Since then, the only decisions have been ones of priority and execution within this project.



Wanting to learn something about cutting-edge global and technological and issues, I next went to Washington D.C. for seven years. I worked on Capitol Hill for three and a half years as a policy aide, working on energy and conservation and renewable energy and nuclear power. I spent the other three and a half years as a Senior Researcher at the Worldwatch Institute, a small environmental and global issues think tank that was founded and headed by Lester Brown, a well-known and far-sighted globalist. I co-authored a book about renewable energy and transitions to global sustainability and wrote a study on space and space weapons. At the time I published Whole Earth Security: a Geopolitics of Peace (1983), in which my basic notions of planetary geopolitics and republicanism were first laid out. During these seven years in Washington, I also was a part-time student, earning a Master's degree in Science, Technology and Public Policy at George Washington University.



In all, these Washington experiences have been extremely valuable for my thinking. Many political scientists view public service as a low or corrupting activity, but this is, I think, very wrong-headed. The reason that the democratic world works as well as it does is because of the distributive social intelligence. But social intelligence is neither as distributed nor as intelligent as it needs to be to deal with many pressing problems. My experience as a Congressional aide taught me that most of the problems that confront my democracy are rooted in various limits and corruptions of the people. I have come to have little patience with those who say, for example, rising inequality is inherent in capital C capitalism, when the more proximate explanation is that the Reagan Republican Party was so successful in gutting the progressive tax system previously in place in the United States. Similarly, I see little value in claims, to take a very contemporary example, that 'the NSA is out of control' when this agency is doing more or less what the elected officials, responding to public pressures to provide 'national security' loudly demanded. In democracies, the people are ultimately responsible.



As I was immersed in the world of arms control and environmental activism I was impressed by the truth of Keynes's oft quoted line, about the great practical influence of the ideas of some long-dead 'academic scribbler.' This is true in varying degrees in every issue area, but in some much more than others. This reinforced my sense that great potential practical consequence of successfully innovating in the various conceptual frameworks that underpinned so many important activities. For nuclear weapons, it became clear to me that the problem was rooted in the statist and realist frames that people so automatically brought to a security question of this magnitude.



Despite the many appeals of a career in DC politics and policy, this was all for me an extended research field-trip, and so I left Washington to do a PhD—a move that mystified many of my NGO and activist friends, and seemed like utter folly to my political friends. At Princeton University, I concentrated on IR, Political Theory, and Military History and Politics, taking courses with Robert Gilpin, Richard Falk, Barry Posen, Sheldon Wolin and others. In my dissertation—entitled Global Orders: Geopolitical and Materialist Theories of the Global-Industrial Era, 1890-1945—I explored IR and related thinking about the impacts of the industrial revolution as a debate between different world order alternatives, and made arguments about the superiority of liberalist, internationalist, and globalist arguments—most notably from H.G. Wells and John Dewey—to the strong realist and imperialist ideas most commonly associated with the geopolitical writers of this period.



I also continued engaging in activist policy affiliated to the Program on Nuclear Policy Alternatives at the Center for Energy andEnvironmental Studies (CEES), which was then headed by Frank von Hippel, a physicist turned 'public interest scientist', and a towering figure in the global nuclear arms control movement. I was a Post Doc at CEES during the Gorbachev era and I went on several amazing and eye-opening trips to the Soviet Union. Continuing my space activism, I was able to organize workshops in Moscow and Washington on large-scale space cooperation, gathering together many of the key space players on both sides. While Princeton was fabulously stimulating intellectually, it was also a stressful pressure-cooker, and I maintained my sanity by making short trips, two of three weekends, over six years, to Manhattan, where I spent the days working in the main reading room of the New York Public Library and the nights partying and relaxing in a world completely detached from academic life.



When it comes to my intellectual development in terms of reading theory, the positive project I wanted to pursue was partially defined by approaches I came to reject. Perhaps most centrally, I came to reject an approach that was very intellectually powerful, even intoxicating, and which retains great sway over many, that of metaphysical politics. The politics of the metaphysicians played a central role in my coming to reject the politics of metaphysics. The fact that some metaphysical ideas and the some of the deep thinkers who advanced them, such as Heidegger, and many Marxists, were so intimately connected with really disastrous politics seemed a really damning fact for me, particularly given that these thinkers insisted so strongly on the link between their metaphysics and their politics. I was initially drawn to Nietzsche's writing (what twenty-year old isn't) but his model of the philosopher founder or law-giver—that is, of a spiritually gifted but alienated guy (and it always is a guy) with a particularly strong but frustrated 'will to power' going into the wilderness, having a deep spiritual revelation, and then returning to the mundane corrupt world with new 'tablets of value,' along with a plan to take over and run things right—seemed more comic than politically relevant, unless the prophet is armed, in which case it becomes a frightful menace. The concluding scene in Herman Hesse's Magister Ludi (sometimes translated as The Glass Bead Game) summarized by overall view of the 'high theory' project. After years of intense training by the greatest teachers the most spiritually and intellectually gifted youths finally graduate. To celebrate, they go to lake, dive in, and, having not learned how to swim, drown.



I was more attracted to Aristotle, Hume, Montesquieu, Dewey and other political theorists with less lofty and comprehensive views of what theory might accomplish; weary of actions; based on dogmatic or totalistic thinking; an eye to the messy and compromised world; with a political commitment to liberty and the interests of the many; a preference for peace over war; an aversion to despotism and empire; and an affinity for tolerance and plurality. I also liked some of those thinkers because of their emphasis on material contexts. Montesquieu seeks to analyze the interaction of material contexts and republican political forms; Madison and his contemporaries attempt to extend the spatial scope of republican political association by recombining in novel ways various earlier power restraint arrangements. I was tremendously influenced by Dewey, studying intensively his slender volume The Public and its Problems (1927)—which I think is the most important book in twentieth century political thought. By the 'public' Dewey means essentially a stakeholder group, and his main point is that the material transformations produced by the industrial revolution has created new publics, and that the political task is to conceptualize and realize forms of community and government appropriate to solving the problems that confront these new publics.



One can say my overall project became to apply and extend their concepts to the contemporary planetary situation. Concomitantly reading IR literature on nuclear weapons, I was struck by fact that the central role that material realities played in these arguments was very ad hoc, and that many of the leading arguments on nuclear politics were very unconvincing. It was clear that while Waltz (Theory Talk #40) had brilliantly developed some key ideas about anarchy made by Hobbes and Rousseau, he had also left something really important out. These sorts of deficiencies led me to develop the arguments contained in Bounding Power. I think it is highly unlikely that I would have had these doubts, or come to make the arguments I made without having worked in political theory and in policy.



I read many works that greatly influenced my thinking in this area, among them works by Lewis Mumford, Langdon Winner's Autonomous Technology, James Lovelock's Gaia, Charles Perrow's Normal Accidents (read a related article here, pdf), Jonathan Schell's Fate of the Earth and The Abolition, William Ophul's Ecology and the Politics of Scarcity... I was particularly stuck by a line in Buckminster Fuller's Operating Manual for Spaceship Earth (pdf), that we live in a 'spaceship' like closed highly interconnected system, but lack an 'operating manual' to guide intelligently our actions. It was also during this period that I read key works by H.G. Wells, most notably his book, Anticipations, and his essay The Idea of a League of Nations, both of which greatly influenced my thinking.



This aside, the greatest contribution to my thinking has come from conversations sustained over many years with some really extraordinary individuals. To mention those that I have been arguing with, and learning from, for at least ten years, there is John O'Looney, Wesley Warren, Bob Gooding-Williams, Alyn McAuly, Henry Nau, Richard Falk, Michael Doyle (Theory Talk #1), Richard Mathew, Paul Wapner, Bron Taylor, Ron Deibert, John Ikenberry, Bill Wohlforth, Frank von Hippel, Ethan Nadelmann, Fritz Kratochwil, Barry Buzan (Theory Talk #35), Ole Waever, John Agnew (Theory Talk #4), Barry Posen, Alex Wendt (Theory Talk #3), James der Derian, David Hendrickson, Nadivah Greenberg, Tim Luke, Campbell Craig, Bill Connolly, Steven David, Jane Bennett, Daniel Levine (TheoryTalk #58), and Jairus Grove. My only regret is that I have not spoken even more with them, and with the much larger number of people I have learned from on a less sustained basis along the way.

                                    



What would a student need to become a specialist in IR or understand the world in a global way?



I have thought a great deal about what sort of answers to this question can be generally valuable. For me, the most important insight is that success in intellectual life and academia is determined by more or less the same combination of factors that determines success more generally. This list is obvious: character, talent, perseverance and hard work, good judgment, good 'people skills,' and luck. Not everyone has a talent to do this kind of work, but the number of people who do have the talent to do this kind of work is much larger than the number of people who are successful in doing it. I think in academia as elsewhere, the people most likely to really succeed are those whose attitude toward the activity is vocational. A vocation is something one is called to do by an inner voice that one cannot resist. People with vocations never really work in one sense, because they are doing something that they would be doing even if they were not paid or required. Of course, in another sense people with vocations never stop working, being so consumed with their path that everything else matters very little. People with jobs and professions largely stop working when they when the lottery, but people with vocations are empowered to work more and better. When your vocation overlaps with your job, you should wake up and say 'wow, I cannot believe I am being paid to do this!' Rather obviously, the great danger in the life paths of people with vocations is imbalance and burn-out. To avoid these perils it is beneficial to sustain strong personal relationships, know when and how to 'take off' effectively, and sustain the ability to see things as an unfolding comedy and to laugh.



Academic life also involves living and working in a profession. Compared to the oppressions that so many thinkers and researchers have historically suffered from, contemporary professional academic life is a utopia. But academic life has several aspects unfortunate aspects, and coping successfully with them is vital. Academic life is full of 'odd balls' and the loose structure of universities and organization, combined with the tenure system, licenses an often florid display of dubious behavior. A fair number of academics have really primitive and incompetent social skills. Others are thin skinned-ego maniacs. Some are pompous hypocrites. Some are ruthlessly self-aggrandizing and underhanded. Some are relentless shirkers and free-riders. Also, academic life is, particularly relative to the costs of obtaining the years of education necessary to obtain it, not very well paid. Corruptions of clique, ideological factionalism, and nepotism occur. If not kept in proper perspective, and approached in appropriate ways, academic department life can become stupidly consuming of time, energy, and most dangerously, intellectual attention. The basic step for healthy departmental life is to approach it as a professional role.



The other big dimension of academic life is teaching. Teaching is one of the two 'deliverables' that academic organizations provide in return for the vast resources they consume. Shirking on teaching is a dereliction of responsibility, but also is the foregoing of a great opportunity. Teaching is actually one of the most assuredly consequential things academics do. The key to great teaching is, I think, very simple: inspire and convey enthusiasm. Once inspired, students learn. Once students take questions as their own, they become avid seekers of answers. Teachers of things political also have a responsibility to remain even-handed in what they teach, to make sure that they do not teach just or mainly their views, to make sure that the best and strongest versions of opposing sides are heard. Teaching seeks to produce informed and critically thinking students, not converts. Beyond the key roles of inspiration and even-handedness, the rest is the standard package of tasks relevant in any professional role: good preparation, good organization, hard work, and clarity of presentation.





Your main book, Bounding Power: Republican Security Theory from the Polis to the Global Village (2007), is a mix of intellectual history, political theory and IR theory, and is targeted largely at realism. How does a reading and interpretation of a large number of old books tell us something new about realism, and the contemporary global?



Bounding Power attempts to dispel some very large claims made by realists about their self-proclaimed 'tradition,' a lineage of thought in which they place many of the leading Western thinkers about political order, such as Thucydides, Machiavelli, Hobbes, Rousseau, and the 'global geopoliticans' from the years around the beginning of the twentieth century. In the book I argue that the actual main axis of western thinking about political order (and its absence) is largely the work of 'republican' thinkers from the small number of 'republics', and that many of the key ideas that realists call realist and liberals call liberal are actually fragments of a larger, more encompassing set of arguments that were primarily in the idioms of republicanism. This entails dispelling the widely held view that the liberal and proto-liberal republican thought and practice are marked by 'idealism'—and therefore both inferior in their grasp of the problem of security-from violence and valuable only when confined to the 'domestic.' I demonstrate that this line of republican security thinkers had a robust set of claims both about material contextual factors, about the 'geopolitics of freedom', and a fuller understanding of security-from-violence. The book shows how perhaps the most important insights of this earlier cluster of arguments has oddly been dropped by both realists (particularly neorealists) and liberal international theorists. And, finally, it is an attempt to provide an understanding that posits the project of exiting anarchy on a global scale as something essentially unprecedented, and as something that the best of our inherited theory leaves us unable to say much about.



The main argument is contained in my formulation of what I think are the actual the two main sets of issues of Western structural-materialist security theory, two problematiques formulated in republican and naturalist-materialist conceptual vocabularies. The first problematique concerns the relationship between material context, the scope of tolerable anarchy, and necessary-for-security government. The second problematic concerns the relative security-viability of two main different forms of government—hierarchical and republican.



This formulation of the first problematic concerning anarchy differs from the main line of contemporary Realist argument in that it poses the question as one about the spatial scope of tolerable anarchy. The primary variable in my reconstruction of the material-contextual component of these arguments is what I term violence interdependence (absent, weak, strong, and intense). The main substantive claim of Western structural-materialist security theory is that situations of anarchy combined with intense violence interdependence are incompatible with security and require substantive government. Situations of strong and weak violence interdependence constitute a tolerable (if at times 'nasty and brutish') second ('state-of-war') anarchy not requiring substantive government. Early formulations of 'state of nature' arguments, explicitly or implicitly hinge upon this material contextual variable, and the overall narrative structure of the development of republican security theory and practice has concerned natural geographic variations and technologically caused changes in the material context, and thus the scope of security tolerable/intolerable anarchy and needed substantive government. This argument was present in early realist versions of anarchy arguments, but has been dropped by neorealists. Conversely, contemporary liberal international theorists analyze interdependence, but have little to say about violence. The result is that the realists talk about violence and security, and the liberals talk about interdependence not relating to violence, producing the great lacuna of contemporary theory: analysis of violence interdependence.



The second main problematique, concerning the relative security viability of hierarchical and republican forms, has also largely been lost sight of, in large measure by the realist insistence that governments are by definition hierarchical, and the liberal avoidance of system structural theory in favor of process, ideational, and economic variables. (For neoliberals, cooperation is seen as (possibly) occurring in anarchy, without altering or replacing anarchy.) The main claim here is that republican and proto-liberal theorists have a more complete grasp of the security political problem than realists because of their realization that both the extremes of hierarchy and anarchy are incompatible with security. In order to register this lost component of structural theory I refer to republican forms at both the unit and the system-level as being characterized by an ordering principle which I refer to as negarchy. Such political arrangements are characterized by the simultaneous negation of both hierarchy and anarchy. The vocabulary of political structures should thus be conceived as a triad-triangle of anarchy, hierarchy, and negarchy, rather than a spectrum stretching from pure anarchy to pure hierarchy. Using this framework, Bounding Power traces various formulations of the key arguments of security republicans from the Greeks through the nuclear era as arguments about the simultaneous avoidance of hierarchy and anarchy on expanding spatial scales driven by variations and changes in the material context. If we recognize the main axis of our thinking in this way, we can stand on a view of our past that is remarkable in its potential relevance to thinking and dealing with the contemporary 'global village' like a human situation.





Nuclear weapons play a key role in the argument of Bounding Power about the present, as well as elsewhere in your work. But are nuclear weapons are still important as hey were during the Cold War to understand global politics?



Since their arrival on the world scene in the middle years of the twentieth century, there has been pretty much universal agreement that nuclear weapons are in some fundamental way 'revolutionary' in their implications for security-from-violence and world politics. The fact that the Cold War is over does not alter, and even stems from, this fact. Despite this wide agreement on the importance of nuclear weapons, theorists, policy makers, and popular arms control/disarmament movements have fundamental disagreements about which political forms are compatible with the avoidance of nuclear war. I have attempted to provide a somewhat new answer to this 'nuclear-political question', and to explain why strong forms of interstate arms control are necessary for security in the nuclear age. I argue that achieving the necessary levels of arms control entails somehow exiting interstate anarchy—not toward a world government as a world state, but toward a world order that is a type of compound republican union (marked by, to put it in terms of above discussion, a nearly completely negarchical structure).



This argument attempts to close what I term the 'arms control gap', the discrepancy between the value arms control is assigned by academic theorists of nuclear weapons and their importance in the actual provision of security in the nuclear era. During the Cold War, thinking among IR theorists about nuclear weapons tended to fall into three broad schools—war strategists, deterrence statists, and arms controllers. Where the first two only seem to differ about the amount of nuclear weapons necessary for states seeking security (the first think many, the second less), the third advocates that states do what they have very rarely done before the nuclear age, reciprocal restraints on arms.



But this Cold War triad of arguments is significantly incomplete as a list of the important schools of thought about the nuclear-political question. There are four additional schools, and a combination of their arguments constitutes, I argue, a superior answer to the nuclear-political question. First are the nuclear one worlders, a view that flourished during the late 1940s and early 1950s, and held that the simple answer to the nuclear political question is to establish a world government, as some sort of state. Second are the populist anti-nuclearists, who indict state apparatuses of acting contrary to the global public's security interests. Third are the deep arms controllers, such as Jonathan Schell, who argue that nuclear weapons need to be abolished. Fourth are the theorists of omniviolence, who theorize situations produced by the leakage of nuclear weapons into the hands of non-state actors who cannot be readily deterred from using nuclear weapons. What all of these schools have in common is that they open up the state and make arguments about how various forms of political freedom—and the institutions that make it possible—are at issue in answering the nuclear-political question.

                                                                                                                

Yet one key feature all seven schools share is that they all make arguments about how particular combinations and configurations of material realities provide the basis for thinking that their answer to the nuclear-political question is correct. Unfortunately, their understandings of how material factors shape, or should shape, actual political arrangements is very ad hoc. Yet the material factors—starting with sheer physical destructiveness—are so pivotal that they merit a more central role in theories of nuclear power. I think we need to have a model that allows us to grasp how variations in material contexts condition the functionality of 'modes of protection', that is, distinct and recurring security practices (and their attendant political structures).



For instance, one mode of protection—what I term the real-state mode of protection—attempts to achieve security through the concentration, mobilization, and employment of violence capability. This is the overall, universal, context-independent strategy of realists. Bringing into view material factors, I argue, shows that this mode of protection is functional not universally but specifically—and only—in material contexts that are marked by violence-poverty and slowness. This mode of protection is dysfunctional in nuclear material contexts marked by violence abundance and high violence velocities. In contrast, a republican federal mode of protection is a bundle of practices that aim for the demobilization and deceleration of violence capacity, and that the practices associated with this mode of protection are security functional in the nuclear material context.



What emerges from such an approach to ideas about the relation between nuclear power and security from violence is that the epistemological foundations for any of the major positions about nuclear weapons are actually much weaker than we should be comfortable with. People often say the two most important questions about the nuclear age are: what is the probability that nuclear weapons will be used? And then, what will happen when they are used? The sobering truth is that we really do not have good grounds for confidently answering either of those two questions. But every choice made about nuclear weapons depends on risk calculations that depend on how we answer these questions.





You have also written extensively on space, a topic that has not recently attracted much attention from many IR scholars. How does your thinking on this relate to your overall thinking about the global and planetary situation?

                                                                                                          

The first human steps into outer space during the middle years of the twentieth century have been among the most spectacular and potentially consequential events in the globalization of machine civilization on Earth. Over the course of what many call 'the space age,' thinking about space activities, space futures, and the consequences of space activities has been dominated by an elaborately developed body of 'space expansionist' thought that makes ambitious and captivating claims about both the feasibility and the desirability of human expansion into outer space. Such views of space permeate popular culture, and at times appear to be quite influential in actual space policy. Space expansionists hold that outer space is a limitless frontier and that humans should make concerted efforts to explore and colonize and extend their military activities into space. They claim the pursuit of their ambitious projects will have many positive, even transformative, effects upon the human situation on Earth, by escaping global closure, protecting the earth's habitability, preserving political plurality, and enhancing species survival. Claims about the Earth, its historical patterns and its contemporary problems, permeate space expansionist thinking.



While the feasibility, both technological and economic, of space expansionist projects has been extensively assessed, arguments for their desirability have not been accorded anything approaching a systematic assessment. In part, such arguments about the desirability of space expansion are difficult to assess because they incorporate claims that are very diverse in character, including claims about the Earth (past, present, and future), about the ways in which material contexts made up of space 'geography' and technologies produce or heavily favor particular political outcomes, and about basic worldview assumptions regarding nature, science, technology, and life.



By breaking these space expansionist arguments down into their parts, and systematically assessing their plausibility, a very different picture of the space prospect emerges. I think there are strong reasons to think that the consequences of the human pursuit of space expansion have been, and could be, very undesirable, even catastrophic. The actual militarization of that core space technology ('the rocket') and the construction of a planetary-scope 'delivery' and support system for nuclear war-fighting has been the most important consequence of actual space activities, but these developments have been curiously been left out of accounts of the space age and assessments of its impacts. Similarly, much of actually existing 'nuclear arms control' has centered on restraining and dismantling space weapons, not nuclear weapons. Thus the most consequential space activity—the acceleration of nuclear delivery capabilities—has been curiously rendered almost invisible in accounts of space and assessments of its impacts. This is an 'unknown known' of the 'space age'. Looking ahead, the creation of large orbital infrastructures will either presuppose or produce world government, potentially of a very hierarchical sort.  There are also good reasons to think that space colonies are more likely to be micro-totalitarian than free. And extensive human movement off the planet could in a variety of ways increase the vulnerability of life on Earth, and even jeopardize the survival of the human species.



Finally, I think much of space expansionist (and popular) thinking about space and the consequences of humans space activities has been marked by basic errors in practical geography. Most notably, there is the widespread failure to realize that the expansion of human activities into Earth's orbital space has enhanced global closure, because the effective distances in Earth's space make it very small. And because of the formidable natural barriers to human space activity, space is a planetary 'lid, not a 'frontier'. So one can say that the most important practical discovery of the 'space age' has been an improved understanding of the Earth. These lines of thinking, I find, would suggest the outlines of a more modest and Earth-centered space program, appropriate for the current Earth age. Overall, the fact that we can't readily expand into space is part of why we are in a new 'earth age' rather than a 'space age'.





You've argued against making the environment into a national security issue twenty years ago. Do the same now, considering that making the environment a bigger priority by making it into a national security issue might be the only way to prevent total environmental destruction?



When I started writing about the relationships between environment and security twenty years ago, not a great deal of work had been done on this topic. But several leading environmental thinkers were making the case that framing environmental issues as security issues, or what came to be called 'securitizing the environment', was not only a good strategy to get action on environmental problems, but also was useful analytically to think about these two domains. Unlike the subsequent criticisms of 'environmental security' made by Realists and scholars of conventional 'security studies', my criticism starts with the environmentalist premise that environmental deterioration is a paramount problem for contemporary humanity as a whole.



Those who want to 'securitize the environment' are attempting to do what William James a century ago proposed as a general strategy for social problem solving. Can we find, in James' language, 'a moral equivalent of war?' (Note the unfortunately acronym: MEOW). War and the threat of war, James observed, often lead to rapid and extensive mobilizations of effort. Can we somehow transfer these vast social energies to deal with other sets of problems? This is an enduring hope, particularly in the United States, where we have a 'war on drugs', a 'war on cancer', and a 'war on poverty'. But doing this for the environment, by 'securitizing the environment,' is unlikely to be very successful. And I fear that bringing 'security' orientations, institutions, and mindsets into environmental problem-solving will also bring in statist, nationalist, and militarist approaches. This will make environmental problem-solving more difficult, not easier, and have many baneful side-effects.



Another key point I think is important, is that the environment—and the various values and ends associated with habitat and the protection of habitat—are actually much more powerful and encompassing than those of security and violence. Instead of 'securitizing the environment' it is more promising is to 'environmentalize security'. Not many people think about the linkages between the environment and security-from-violence in this way, but I think there is a major case of it 'hiding in plain sight' in the trajectory of how the state-system and nuclear weapons have interacted.



When nuclear weapons were invented and first used in the 1940s, scientists were ignorant about many aspects of their effects. As scientists learned about these effects, and as this knowledge became public, many people started thinking and acting in different ways about nuclear choices. The fact that a ground burst of a nuclear weapon would produce substantial radioactive 'fall-out' was not appreciated until the first hydrogen bomb tests in the early 1950s. It was only then that scientists started to study what happened to radioactive materials dispersed widely in the environment. Evidence began to accumulate that some radioactive isotopes would be 'bio-focused', or concentrated by biological process. Public interest scientists began effectively publicizing this information, and mothers were alerted to the fact that their children's teeth were become radioactive. This new scientific knowledge about the environmental effects of nuclear explosions, and the public mobilizations it produced, played a key role in the first substantial nuclear arms control treaty, the Limited Test Ban Treaty of 1963, which banned nuclear weapons testing in the atmosphere, in the ocean, and in space. Thus, the old ways of providing security were circumscribed by new knowledge and new stakeholders of environmental health effects. The environment was not securitized, security was partially environmentalized.



Thus, while some accounts by arms control theorists emphasize the importance of 'social learning' in altering US-Soviet relations, an important part of this learning was not about the nature of social and political interactions, but about the environmental consequences of nuclear weapons. The learning that was most important in motivating so many actors (both within states and in mass publics) to seek changes in politics was 'natural learning,' or more specifically learning about the interaction of natural and technological systems.



An even more consequential case of the environmentalization of security occurred in the 1970's and 1980's. A key text here is Jonathan Schell's book, The Fate of the Earth. Schell's book, combining very high-quality journalism with first rate political theoretical reflections, lays out in measured terms the new discoveries of ecologists and atmospheric scientists about the broader planetary consequences of an extensive nuclear war. Not only would hundreds of millions of people be immediately killed and much of the planet's built infrastructure destroyed, but the planet earth's natural systems would be so altered that the extinction of complex life forms, among them homo sapiens, might result. The detonation of numerous nuclear weapons and the resultant burning of cities would probably dramatically alter the earth's atmosphere, depleting the ozone layer that protects life from lethal solar radiations, and filling the atmosphere with sufficient dust to cause a 'nuclear winter.' At stake in nuclear war, scientists had learned, was not just the fate of nations, but of the earth as a life support system. Conventional accounts of the nuclear age and of the end of the Cold War are loath to admit it, but it I believe it is clear that spreading awareness of these new natural-technological possibilities played a significant role in ending the Cold War and the central role that nuclear arms control occupies in the settlement of the Cold War. Again, traditional ways of achieving security-from-violence were altered by new knowledges about their environmental consequences—security practices and arrangements were partly environmentalized.



Even more radically, I think we can also turn this into a positive project. As I wrote two decades ago, environmental restoration would probably generate political externalities that would dampen tendencies towards violence. In other words, if we address the problem of the environment, then we will be drawn to do various things that will make various types of violent conflict less likely.





Your work is permeated by references to 'material factors'. This makes it different from branches of contemporary IR—like constructivism or postmodernism—which seem to be underpinned by a profound commitment to focus solely one side of the Cartesian divide. What is your take on the pervasiveness and implications of this 'social bias'?



Postmodernism and constructivism are really the most extreme manifestations of a broad trend over the last two centuries toward what I refer to as 'social-social science' and the decline—but hardly the end—of 'natural-social science'. Much of western thought prior to this turn was 'naturalist' and thus tended to downplay both human agency and ideas. At the beginning of the nineteenth century—partly because of the influence of German idealism, partly because of the great liberationist projects that promised to give better consequence to the activities and aspirations of the larger body of human populations (previously sunk in various forms of seemingly natural bondages), and partly because of the great expansion of human choice brought about by the science-based technologies of the Industrial Revolution—there was a widespread tendency to move towards 'social-social science,' the project of attempting to explain the human world solely by reference to the human world, to explain social outcomes with reference to social causes. While this was the dominant tendency, and a vastly productive one in many ways, it existed alongside and in interaction with what is really a modernized version of the earlier 'natural-social science.' Much of my work has sought to 'bring back in' and extend these 'natural-social' lines of argument—found in figures such as Dewey and H.G. Wells—into our thinking about the planetary situation.



In many parts of both European and American IR and related areas, Postmodern and constructivist theories have significantly contributed to IR theorists by enhancing our appreciation of ideas, language, and identities in politics. As a response to the limits and blindnesses of certain types of rationalist, structuralist, and functional theories, this renewed interest in the ideational is an important advance. Unfortunately, both postmodernism and constructivism have been marked by a strong tendency to go too far in their emphasis of the ideational. Postmodernism and constructivism have also helped make theorists much more conscious of the implicit—and often severely limiting—ontological assumptions that underlay, inform, and bound their investigations. This is also a major contribution to the study of world politics in all its aspects.



Unfortunately, this turn to ontology has also had intellectually limiting effects by going too far, in the search for a pure or nearly pure social ontology. With the growth in these two approaches, there has indeed been a decided decline in theorizing about the material. But elsewhere in the diverse world of theorizing about IR and the global, theorizing about the material never came anything close to disappearing or being eclipsed. For anyone thinking about the relationships between politics and nuclear weapons, space, and the environment, theorizing about the material has remained at the center, and it would be difficult to even conceive of how theorizing about the material could largely disappear. The recent 're-discovery of the material' associated with various self-styled 'new materialists' is a welcome, if belated, re-discovery for postmodernists and constructivists. For most of the rest of us, the material had never been largely dropped out.



A very visible example of the ways in which the decline in appropriate attention to the material, an excessive turn to the ideational, and the quest for a nearly pure social ontology, can lead theorizing astray is the core argument in Alexander Wendt's main book, Social Theory of International Politics, one of the widely recognized landmarks of constructivist IR theory. The first part of the book advances a very carefully wrought and sophisticated argument for a nearly pure ideational social ontology. The material is explicitly displaced into a residue or rump of unimportance. But then, to the reader's surprise, the material, in the form of 'common fate' produced by nuclear weapons, and climate change, reappears and is deployed to play a really crucial role in understanding contemporary change in world politics. 



My solution is to employ a mixed ontology. By this I mean that I think several ontologically incommensurate and very different realities are inescapable parts the human world. These 'unlikes' are inescapable parts of any argument, and must somehow be combined. There are a vast number of ways in which they can be combined, and on close examination, virtually all arguments in the social sciences are actually employing some version of a mixed ontology, however implicitly and under-acknowledged.



But not all combinations are equally useful in addressing all questions. In my version of mixed ontology—which I call 'practical naturalism'—human social agency is understood to be occurring 'between two natures': on the one hand the largely fixed nature of humans, and on the other the changing nature composed of the material world, a shifting amalgam of actual non-human material nature of geography and ecology, along with human artifacts and infrastructures. Within this frame, I posit as rooted in human biological nature, a set of 'natural needs,' most notably for security-from-violence and habitat services. Then I pose questions of functionality, by which I mean: which combinations of material practices, political structures, ideas and identities are needed to achieve these ends in different material contexts? Answering this question requires the formulation of various 'historical materialist' propositions, which in turn entails the systematic formulation of typologies and variation in both the practices, structures and ideas, and in material contexts. These arguments are not centered on explaining what has or what will happen. Instead they are practical in the sense that they are attempting to answer the question of 'what is to be done' given the fixed ends and given changing material contexts. I think this is what advocates of arms control and environmental sustainability are actually doing when they claim that one set of material practices and their attendant political structures, identities and ideas must be replaced with another if basic human needs are to going to continue to be meet in the contemporary planetary material situation created by the globalization of machine civilization on earth.

                                  

Since this set of arguments is framed within a mixed ontology, ideas and identities are a vital part of the research agenda. Much of the energy of postmodern and many varieties of critical theory have focused on 'deconstructing' various identities and ideas. This critical activity has produced and continues to produce many insights of theorizing about politics. But I think there is an un-tapped potential for theorists who are interested in ideas and identities, and who want their work to make a positive contribution to practical problem-solving in the contemporary planetary human situation in what might be termed a 'constructive constructivism'. This concerns a large practical theory agenda—and an urgent one at that, given the rapid increase in planetary problems—revolving around the task of figuring out which ideas and identities are appropriate for the planetary world, and in figuring out how they can be rapidly disseminated. Furthermore, thinking about how to achieve consciousness change of this sort is not something ancillary to the greenpeace project but vital to it. My thinking on how this should and might be done centers the construction of a new social narrative, centered not on humanity but on the earth.





Is it easy to plug your mixed ontology and interests beyond the narrow confines of IR or even the walls of the ivory tower into processes of collective knowledge proliferation in IR—a discipline increasingly characterized by compartimentalization and specialization?



The great plurality of approaches in IR today is indispensible and a welcome change. The professionalization of IR and the organization of intellectual life has some corruptions and pitfalls that are best avoided. The explosion of 'isms' and of different perspectives has been valuable and necessary in many ways, but it has also helped to foster and empower sectarian tendencies that confound the advance of knowledge. Some of the adherents of some sects and isms boast openly of establishing 'citation cartels' to favor themselves and their friends. Some theorists also have an unfortunate tendency to assume that because they have adopted a label that what they actually do is the actually the realization of the label. Thus we have 'realists' with limited grasp on realities, 'critical theorists' who repeat rather than criticize the views of other 'critical theorists,' and anti-neoliberals who are ruthless Ayn Rand-like self aggrandizers. The only way to fully address these tendencies is to talk to people you disagree with, and find and communicate with people in other disciplines.



Another consequence of this sectarianism is visible in the erosion of scholarly standards of citation. The system of academic incentives is configured to reward publication, and the publication of ideas that are new. This has a curiously perverse impact on the achievement of cumulativity. One seemingly easy and attractive path to saying something new is to say something old in new language, to say something said in another sect or field in the language of your sect or field, or easiest of all, simply ignore what other people have said if it is too much like what you are trying to say. George Santyana is wide quoted in saying that 'those who forget the past are condemned to repeat it.' For academics it can unfortunately be said, 'those who can successfully forget what past academics said are free to say it again, and thus advance toward tenure.' When rampant sectarianism and decline in standards of citation is combined with a broader cultural tendency to valorize self-expression and authenticity, academic work can become an exercise in abstract self expressionism.



Confining one's intellectual life within one 'ism' or sect is sure to be self-limiting. Many of the most important and interesting questions arise between and across the sects and schools. Also, there are great opportunities in learning from people who do not fully share your assumptions and approaches. Seriously engaging the work and ideas of scholars in other sects can be very very valuable. Scholars in different sects and schools are also often really taking positions that are not so different as their labels would suggest. Perhaps because my research agenda fits uncomfortably within any of the established schools and isms, I have found particularly great value in seeking out and talking on a sustained basis with people with very different approaches.





My final question is about normativity and the way that normativity is perceived: In Europe and the United States, liberal Internationalism is increasingly considered as hollowed out, as a discursive cover for a tendency to attempt to control and regulate the world—or as an unguided idealistic missile. Doesn't adapting to a post-hegemonic world require dropping such ambitions?



American foreign policy has never been entirely liberal internationalist. Many other ideas and ideologies and approaches have often played important roles in shaping US foreign policy. But the United States, for a variety of reasons, has pursued liberal internationalist foreign policy agendas more extensively, and successfully, than any other major state in the modern state system, and the world, I think, has been made better off in very important ways by these efforts.



The net impact of the United States and of American grand strategy and particularly those parts of American brand strategy that have been more liberal internationalist in their character, has been enormously positive for the world. It has produced not a utopia by any means, but has brought about an era with more peace and security, prosperity, and freedom for more people than ever before in history.



Both American foreign policy and liberal internationalism have been subject to strong attacks from a variety of perspectives. Recently some have characterized liberal internationalism as a type of American imperialism, or as a cloak for US imperialism. Virtually every aspect of American foreign policy has been contested within the United States. Liberal internationalists have been strong enemies of imperialism and military adventurism, whether American or from other states. This started with the Whig's opposition to the War with Mexico and the Progressive's opposition to the Spanish-American War, and continued with liberal opposition to the War in Vietnam.



The claim that liberal internationalism leads to or supports American imperialism has also been recently voiced by many American realists, perhaps most notably John Mearsheimer (Theory Talk #49). He and others argue that liberal internationalism played a significant role in bringing about the War on Iraq waged by the W. Bush administration. This was indeed one of the great debacles of US foreign policy. But the War in Iraq was actually a war waged by American realists for reasons grounded in realist foreign policy thinking. It is true, as Mearsheimer emphasizes, that many academic realists criticized the Bush administration's plans and efforts in the invasion in Iraq. Some self-described American liberal internationalists in the policy world supported the war, but almost all academic American liberal internationalists were strongly opposed, and much of the public opposition to the war was on grounds related to liberal internationalist ideas.



It is patently inaccurate to say that main actors in the US government that instigated the War on Iraq were liberal internationalists. The main initiators of the war were Richard Cheney and Donald Rumsfeld. Whatever can be said about those two individuals, they are not liberal internationalists. They initiated the war because they thought that the Saddam Hussein regime was a threat to American interests—basically related to oil. The Saddam regime was seen as a threat to American-centered regional hegemony in the Middle East, an order whose its paramount purpose has been the protection of oil, and the protection of the regional American allies that posses oil. Saddam Hussein was furthermore a demonstrated regional revisionist likely to seek nuclear weapons, which would greatly compromise American military abilities in the region. Everything else the Bush Administration's public propaganda machine said to justify the war was essentially window dressing for this agenda. Far from being motivated by a liberal internationalist agenda the key figures in the Bush Administration viewed the collateral damage to international institutions produced by the war as a further benefit, not a cost, of the war. It is particularly ironic that John Mearsheimer would be a critic of this war, which seems in many ways a 'text book' application of a central claim of his 'offensive realism,' that powerful states can be expected, in the pursuit of their security and interests, to seek to become and remain regional hegemons.



Of course, liberal internationalism, quite aside from dealing with these gross mischaracterizations propagated by realists, must also look to the future. The liberal internationalism that is needed for today and tomorrow is going to be in some ways different from the liberal internationalism of the twentieth century. This is a large topic that many people, but not enough, are thinking about. In a recent working paper for the Council on Foreign Relations, John Ikenberry and I have laid out some ways in which we think American liberal internationalism should proceed. The starting point is the recognition that the United States is not as 'exceptional' in its precocious liberal-democratic character, not as 'indispensible' for the protection of the balance of power or the advance of freedom, or as easily 'hegemonic' as it has been historically. But the world is now also much more democratic than ever before, with democracies old and new, north and south, former colonizers and former colonies, and in every civilizational flavor. The democracies also face an array of difficult domestic problems, are thickly enmeshed with one another in many ways, and have a vital role to play in solving global problems. We suggest that the next liberal internationalism in American foreign policy should focus on American learning from the successes of other democracies in solving problems, focus on 'leading by example of successful problem-solving' and less with 'carrots and sticks,' make sustained efforts to moderate the inequalities and externalities produced by de-regulated capitalism, devote more attention to building community among the democracies, and make sustained efforts to 'recast global bargains' and the distribution of authority in global institutions to better incorporate the interests of 'rising powers.'





Daniel Deudney is Associate Professor and Director of Undergraduate Studies in Political Science at Johns Hopkins University. He has published widely in political theory and international relations, on substantive issues such as nuclear weapons, the environment as a security issue, liberal and realist international relations theory, and geopolitics.





Related links



Deudney's Faculty Profile at Johns Hopkins
Read Deudney & Ikenberry's Democratic Internationalism: An American Grand Strategy for a Post-exceptionalist Era (Council on Foreign Relations Working Paper, 2012) here (pdf) 
Read Deudney et al's Global Shift: How the West Should Respond to the Rise of China (2011 Transatlantic Academy report) here (pdf) 
Read the introduction of Deudney's Bounding Power (2007) here (pdf) 
Read Deudney's Bringing Nature Back In: Geopolitical Theory from the Greeks to the Global Era (1999 book chapter) here (pdf) 
Read Deudney & Ikenberry's Who Won the Cold War? (Foreign Policy, 1992) here (pdf) 
Read Deudney's The Case Against Linking Environmental Degradation and National Security (Millennium, 1990) here (pdf) 
Read Deudney's Rivers of Energy: The Hydropower Potential (WorldWatch Institute Paper, 1981) here (pdf) 









Print version of this Talk (pdf)

Eyal
Weizman on the Architectural-Image Complex, Forensic Archeology and Policing
across the Desertification Line







Incidents
in global politics are usually apprehended as the patterned interaction of macro-actors
such as states. Eyal Weizman takes a different tack—an architect by training,
Weizman tackles incidents through detailed readings of heterogeneous materials—digital
images, debris, reforestation, blast patterns in ruins—to piece together concrete
positions of engagement in specific legal, political, or activist controversies
in global politics. In this Talk,
Weizman—among others—elaborates on methods across scales and material
territories, discusses the interactions of environment and politics, and traces
his trajectory in forensic architecture.




Print version of this Talk (pdf)




What
is—or should be—according to you, the biggest challenge, central focus or
principal debate in critical social sciences?



We
live in an age in which there is both a great storm of information and a
progressive form of activism seeking to generate transparency in relation to government
institutions, corporations or secret services. These forms of exposure
exponentially increase the number of primary sources on corporations and state
and provide also rare media from war zones, but this by itself does not add
more clarity. It could increase confusion and increasingly be used disseminate
false information and propaganda. The challenge is to start another process to
carefully piece together and compose this information.



I'm
concerned with research about armed conflict. Contemporary conflict tends to take
place in urban environments saturated with media of varicose sorts, whenever
violence is brought into a city, it provokes an enormous production of images,
clips, sounds, text, etc.



As
conflict in Iraq, Syria, Missouri and the Ukraine demonstrate, one of the most
important potential sources for conflict investigations is produced by the very
people living in the war zones and made available in social networks almost
instantly. The citizens recording events in conflict zones are conscious of
producing testimonies and evidence, and importantly so, they do so on their own
terms. The emergence of citizen journalists/witness has already restructured
the fields of journalism with most footage composing Al Jazeera broadcasts, for
example, being produced by non-professional media. The addition of a huge
multiplicity of primary sources, live testimonies and filmed records of events,
challenge research methods and evidentiary practices. There is much locational
and spatial information that can be harvested from within these blurry, shaky
and unedited images/clips and architectural methodologies are essential in
reconstructing incidents in space. Architecture is a good framework to
understand the world, alongside others.



Whereas
debates around the 'politics of the image' in the field of photography and
visual cultures tended to concentrate on the decoding of single images and
photojournalistic trophy shots we now need to study the creation of extensive
'image-complexes' and inhabit this field reconstruct events from images taken
at different perspective and at different times. The relation between images is
architectural, best composed and represented within 3D models. Architectural
analysis is useful in locating other bits of evidence—recorded testimonies,
films and photos—from multiple perspectives in relation to one other bits of
evidence and cross referring these in space.



But
'image complexes' are about interrogating the field of visibility it is also
about absence, failures of representation, blockages or destruction of images.





How
did you arrive at where you currently are in your thinking about global
politics?



I'm
an architect, and my intellectual upbringing is in architectural theory and
spatial theory. I tend to hold on to this particular approach when I'm entering
a geopolitical context or areas that would otherwise be the domain of
journalists and human rights people, traditional jurists, etc. Architecture taught
me to pay attention to details, to materiality, to media, and to make very
close observations about the way built structures might embody political
relations.



When I study political situations, I
study them as an architect: I look at the way politics turns into a material—spatial
practice—the materialization, and at the spatialization, of political forces. Architectural
form—as I explained many times—is slowed-down force. My thinking is structured
around a relation between force and form. And form, for an architect, is an
entry point from which to read politics. So when I look at matter and material
reality—like a building, a destroyed building, a piece of infrastructure, a
road or bridge, a settlement or suburb or city—I look at it as a product of a political
force field. But it is never static. A city always grows, expands or contracts
recording the multiple political relations that shaped it.



Buildings
continuously record their environment. So one can read political force on buildings.
In taking this approach, I am influenced by building surveyors, and insurance
people going into a building to look at a scratch in a wall to piece together
what might have happened, and what might still happen. So I feel like a kind of
property surveyor on the scale of a city at times of war. But in practicing
this forensic architecture
I also work like an archaeologist: archaeology is about looking at material remains
and trying to piece together the cultural, political, military, or social spheres.
But I'm an archaeologist of very recent past or of the present. While
some of my investigations will always retain a haptic dimension based on
material examination, much of it is an analysis of material captured and
registered by various medias. Verify, locate, compose and cross-reference a
spatial reality from images of architecture.





What
would a student need to become a specialist in your field or understand the
world in a global way?



The institutes I run do not recruit
only architects. We need to open up the disciplinary bounds of education. We work
with filmmakers and architects and with artists.



It embodies a desire to understand
architecture as a field of inquiry, with which you can interrogate reality as
it is effectively registering material transformation. I see architecture as a
way of augmenting our way of seeing things in the world, but it's not for me a
kind of sacred field that should not be touched or changed.



But I'm also using architecture
across the entire spectrum of its relation to politics, from the very dystopian—with
forensic architecture, a kind of architectural pathology—to the utopian. I have
a studio in Palestine with Palestinian partners of mine, and internationals.
Alessandro Petty and Sandi Hilal
are in this group, which is called Decolonizing Architure. It's this group that is engaged in
very utopian projects for the West Bank and Palestine and the return of
refugees and so on. So I use architecture across the entire spectrum, from the
very dystopian to the very utopian. Architecture is simply a way of engaging
the world and its politics. Space is the way of establishing relations between
things. And actually space is not static, it is both a means of establishing
relations between people and objects and things. Just as material itself is
always an event, always under transformation. So that is something I have taken
from architecture and try to bring into politics, but not only in analyzing
crimes, but in producing the reality yet to come.



So what we
need from people is the desire to understand aesthetics as a field of inquiry,
not simply as a pleasurable play of beauty and pleasing kind of effect, but as
a kind of very sensorial field, sensorium, in which you can interrogate reality
as it is effectively registering material transformation. So I would look
simply for that kind of sensorial intensity and high critical approach and
understanding and speculating of how it is we know what we think we know. Of
course, you cannot see, or you do not know what you see, you do not have the
language to interpret or question what it is you 'see' without abstract
constructs. This means I don't necessarily look for theoretical capacities in
people: I see theory as a way of augmenting our way of seeing things in the
world, of registering them, of decoding them, but it's not for me a kind of
sacred field to which I submit in any way.







So
what is it you work on now?



I'm mostly trying to establish forensic architecture as a
critical field of practice and as an agency that produce and disseminate
evidence about war crimes in urban context. Recent forensic investigations in Guatemala
and in the Israeli Negev involved
the intersection of violence and environmental transformations, even climate
change. For trials and truth commissions, we analyze the extent to which
environmental transformation intersect with conflict.



The imaging of this
previously invisible types of violence—'environmental violence' such as land degradation, the destruction of fields and forests (in the tropics), pollution
and water diversion, and also long term processes of desertification—we use as new type of evidence of processes dispersed across time
and space. There are other conflicts that unfold in relation to climatic and
environmental transformations and in particular in relation to environmental
scarcity.



Conflict has reciprocal
interaction with environment transformation: environmental change could
aggravate conflict, while conflict tends to generate further environmental
damage. This has been apparent in Darfur, Sudan where the conflict was
aggravated by increased competition over arable due to local land erosion and desertification.
War and insurgency have occurred along Sahel—Arabic for 'shoreline'—on the
southern threshold of the Sahara Desert, which is only ebbing as million of
hectares of former arable land turn to desert. In past decades, conflicts have
broken out in most countries from East to West Africa, along this shoreline:
Eritrea, Ethiopia, Somalia, Sudan, Chad, Niger, Mali, Mauritania, and Senegal.
In 2011 in the city of Daraa, farmers' protests, borne out of an extended cycle
of droughts, marked
the beginning of the Syrian civil war. Similar processes took place in the
eastern outskirts of Damascus, Homs, al-Raqqah and along the threshold of the
great Syrian and Northern Iraqi Deserts. These transformations impact upon
cities, themselves a set of entangled natural/man-made environments. The conflict
and hardships along desertification bands compel dispossessed farmers to embark
upon increasingly perilous paths of migrations, leading to fast urbanization at
the growing outskirts of the cities and slams.



I'm
trying to understand these processes across desert thresholds. There has been a
very long colonial debate about what is the line beyond which the desert begins.
Most commonly it was defined as 200 mm rain per annum. Cartographers were
trying to draw it, as it represented, to a certain extent, the limit of
imperial control. From this line on, most policing was done through bombing of
tribal areas from the air. Since the beginning, the emergence of the use of air
power in policing in the post World War I period—aerial control, aerial
government—took form in places that were perceived, at the time, as lying
beyond the thresholds or edges of the law. The British policing of Iraq, the
French in Syria, and Algeria, the Italians in Libya are examples where control
would hover in air.



Up
to now I was writing about borders that were physical and manmade: walls in the
West Bank or Gaza and the siege around it—most notably in Hollow Land (2007, read the introduction here).
Now I started to write about borders that are made by the interaction of people
and the environment—like the desert line—which is not less violent and brutal. The
colonial history of Palestine has been an attempt to push the line of the
desert south, trying to make it green or bloom—this is in Ben Gurion's terms—but
the origins of this statement are earlier and making the desert green and
pushing the line of the desert was also Mussolini's stated aim. On the other
hand, climate change is now pushing that line north.



Following
not geopolitical but meteorological borders, helps me cut across a big
epistemological problem that confines the writing in international relations or
geopolitics within the borders organize your writing. Braudel is an
inspiration but, for him, the environment of the Mediterranean is basically
cyclically fixed. The problem with geographical determinism is that it takes
nature as a given, cyclical, milieu which then affects politics—but I think we
are now in a period where politics affects nature in the same way in which
nature affects politics. The climate is changing in the same speed as human
history.





What does your background in
architecture add to understanding the global political controversies you engage
in?



We are a forensic agency that
provides services to prosecution teams around the world. With our amazing
members we ran 20-odd cases around the world from the Amazon to Atacama, for
the UN, for Amnesty, for Palestinian NGOs, in Gaza of course, West Bank, issues
of killings, individual killings in the West Bank that we do now, and much more
drastic destructions.



Forensic Architecture is unique in using
architectural research methodologies to analyze violations of human rights and
international humanitarian law as they bear upon the built environment—on
buildings, cities and territories, and this is why we get many commissions. We
produced architectural evidence for numerous investigations and presented them
in a number of cases in national and international courts and tribunals. We
were commissioned by the UN Special Rapporteur for Human Rights to study single
destroyed buildings, as well as patterns of destruction, resulting from
drone warfare in Pakistan, Yemen, Somalia and Gaza. This study was presented at
the UN General Assembly in New York. We developed techniques to locate the
remains of buildings and villages overgrown by thick rain forests and presented
this material as evidence in the genocide trial of former president Efraín Ríos
Montt in the National Court of Guatemala and the Inter-American
Court. We quantified and analyzed levels of architectural destruction in Gaza
after the 2014 conflict for Amnesty International. We provided architectural
models and animations to support a petition against the wall in Battir
submitted to the Israeli High Court, helping to win the case.



Recently, we use and deal with the
reconstruction of human testimony. Witnesses to war give account of the worst
moment of their lives; times when their dear ones have died or hurt. Their
memory is disturbed, and tends to be blurred. We have developed a way of very
carefully interviewing and discussing with witnesses. Together with them, we
build digital models of their own homes. So we can see a very slow process of reconstruction
of the relation between memory space and architecture. And events start coming
back, through the process of building.



In order to develop this, we needed
to explore the historical use of memory and architecture, such as Frances Yates'
The Art of Memory (read it here), as well as different accounts on
the use of trauma, and bring them into the digital age, bring an understanding
of the relation of testimony and evidence into contemporary thinking. Single
incidents tend to be argued away as aberrations of 'standard operating
procedures'. To bring charges against government and military leaderships, it
is necessary to demonstrate 'gross and systematic' violations.
This means finding consistent and repeated patterns of
violations. Architectural analysis, undertaken on the level of
the city is able to demonstrate repetition and transformations in patterns of
violation/destruction in space and time—within the battle zone along the
duration of the conflict. Architectural analysis is useful not only in dealing
with architectural evidence—i.e with destroyed buildings—but also helpful in
locating other bits of evidence—testimony films or photos—in relation to one
other bits of evidence, and cross referring these in space.



Urban violence unfolds at different
intensities, speeds and spatial scales: it is made of patterns of multiple
instantaneous events as well as slower incremental processes of 'environmental
violence' that affects the transformation of larger territories. We aims to analyze
and present the relation between forms of violence that occur at different
space and time scales. From eruptive kinetic violence of the instantaneous/human
incident through patterns of destruction mapped across and along the duration
of urban conflict, to what Rob Nixon calls the 'slow violence' of environmental
transformation (read the introduction of the eponymous book here,
pdf).





Last question. How does your approach to research relate to, or differ
from, approaches to international politics?



To study conflict as a reality that unfolds across
multiple scales, we use the microphysical approach—dealing with details,
fragments and ruins—as an entry-point from which we will unpack the larger
dynamics of a conflict. We reconstruct singular incidents, locate them in space
and time to look for and identify patterns, then study these patterns in
relation to long terms and wide-scale environmental transformations. This
approach seeks to make connections between, what Marc Bloch of the Annales
School called 'micro- and macro-history, between close-ups and extreme long
shots' in his thesis on historical method. This topological approach is
distinct from a traditional scalar one: the macro
(political/strategic/territorial) situation will not be seen a root cause for a
myriad set of local human right violations (incidents/tactics). In the complex
reality of conflict, singularities are equally the result of 'framing
conditions' and also contributing factors to phase transitions that might
affect, or 'de-frame' as Latour has put it, changes occurring in wider areas.
Instead of nesting smaller scales within larger ones, our analysis will seek to
fluidly shift from macro to micro, from political conditions to individual
cases, from buildings to environments and this along multiple threads,
connection and feedback loops.



While in relation to the single
incident it might still be possible to establish a direct, liner connection
between the two limit figures of the perpetrator and the victim along the model
of (international) criminal law, evidence for environmental violence is more
scattered and diffused. Instead, it requires the examination of what we call
'field causalities'—causal ecologies that are non-linear, diffused,
simultaneous, and that involve multiple agencies and feedback loops,
challenging the immediacy of 'evidence'. 




Establishing field causalities requires the
examination of force fields and causal ecologies, that are non-linear,
diffused, simultaneous and involve multiple agencies and feedback loops.
Whereas linear causality entails a focus on sequences of causal events on the
model of criminal law that seeks to trace a direct line between the two limit
figures of victim and perpetrator field causality involves the spatial
arrangement of simultaneous sites, actions and causes. It is inherently relational
and thus a spatial concept. By treating space as the medium of relation between
separate elements of evidence brought together, we aim to expand the analytical
scope of forensic architecture. It is inherently relational and thus a spatial
concept. By treating space as the medium of relation between separate elements
of evidence brought together, field causalities expands the analytical scope of
forensic architecture.



Let me illustrate this a bit. Forms
of violence are crucially convertible one to another. Drying fields along the
Sahel or the Great Syrian Desert, for example, reach a point in which they can
no longer support their farmers, contributing to impoverishment, migration to
cities, slumnization and waves of protest that might contribute to the eruption
of armed conflict. These layers call for a form of architectural analysis able
to shift and synthesize information at different scales—from single incidents
as they are registered in the immediate spatial setting, through patterns of
violations across the entire urban terrain to 'environmental violence'
articulated in the transformation of large territories.





Eyal Weizman is an architect, Professor of Visual Cultures and director
of the Centre for Research Architecture at Goldsmiths, University of London.
Since 2011 he also directs the European Research Council funded project, Forensic
Architecture - on the place of architecture in international
humanitarian law. Since 2007 he is a founding member of the architectural
collective DAAR in Beit
Sahour/Palestine. Weizman has been a professor of architecture at the Academy
of Fine Arts in Vienna and has also taught at the Bartlett (UCL) in London at
the Stadel School in Frankfurt and is a Professeur invité at the École des
hautes études en sciences sociales (EHESS) in Paris. He lectured, curated and
organised conferences in many institutions worldwide. His books include Mengele's
Skull (with Thomas Keenan at Sterenberg Press 2012), ForensicArchitecture (dOCUMENTA13
notebook, 2012), The Least of all Possible Evils (Nottetempo
2009, Verso 2011), Hollow Land (Verso, 2007), A
Civilian Occupation (Verso, 2003), the series Territories 1,2
and 3, Yellow Rhythms and many articles in journals, magazines
and edited books. 



Related links





Facultyprofile at Goldsmith
Forensic Architecture homepage
Read
Weizman's introduction to Forensis
(2014) here
(pdf)
Read
Weizman's Forensic Architecture: Notes
from Fields and Forums (dOCUMENTA 2012) here
(pdf)
Read
Weizman's Lethal Theory (2009) here (pdf)
Read
the introduction to Weizman's Hollow Land
(2007) here
(pdf)


Print version of this Talk (pdf)




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Mary Elizabeth King on Civil Action for Social Change,
the Transnational Women's Movement, and the Arab Awakening







Nonviolent resistance remains by and large a marginal
topic to IR. Yet it constitutes an influential idea among idealist social
movements and non-Western populations alike, one that has moved to the center
stage in recent events in the Middle East. In this Talk, Mary King—who has spent over 40 years promoting nonviolence—elaborates
on, amongst others, the women's movement, nonviolence, and civil action more
broadly.






Print version of this Talk (pdf)






What is, according to you, the central challenge or principal debate in
International Relations? And what is your position regarding this challenge/in
this debate?



The field of International Relations is different from
Peace and Conflict Studies; it has essentially to do with relationships between
states and developed after World War I. In the 1920s, the big debates concerned
whether international cooperation was possible, and the diplomatic elite were
very different from diplomats today. The roots of Peace and Conflict Studies go
back much further. By the late 1800s peace studies already existed in the
Scandinavian countries. Studies of industrial strikes in the United States were
added by the 1930s, and the field had spread to Europe by the 1940s. Peace and
Conflict Studies had firmly cohered by the 1980s, and soon encircled the globe.
Broad in spectrum and inherently multi-disciplinary, it is not possible to walk
through one portal to enter the field.



To me it is also important that Peace and Conflict
studies is not wary of asking the bigger hypothetical questions such as 'Can we
built a better world?' 'How do we do a better job at resolving conflicts before
they become destructive?' 'How do we create more peaceable societies?' If we do
not pose these questions, we are unlikely to find the answers. Some political scientists say that they do not wish to
privilege either violence or nonviolent action. I am not in that category,
trying not to privilege violence or
nonviolent action. The field of peace and conflict studies is value-laden in
its pursuit of more peaceable societies. We need more knowledge and study of
how conflicts can be addressed without
violence, including to the eventual benefit of all the parties and the larger
society. When in 1964 Martin Luther King Jr received
the Nobel Peace Prize, his remarks in Oslo that December tied the nonviolent
struggle in the United States to the whole planet's need for disarmament. He said
that the most exceptional characteristic of the civil rights movement was the
direct participation of masses of people in it. King's remarks in Oslo were also
his toughest call for the use of nonviolent resistance on issues other than
racial injustice. International nonviolent action, he said, could be utilized
to let global leaders know that beyond racial and economic justice, individuals
across the world were concerned about world peace:



I venture to suggest [above all] . . . that . . . nonviolence become
immediately a subject for study and for serious experimentation in every field
of human conflict, by no means excluding relations between nations . . . which
[ultimately] make war. . . .



In the half century since King made his address in
Oslo, nonviolent civil resistance has not been allocated even a tiny fraction
of the resources for study that have been dedicated to the fields of
democratization, development, the environment, human rights, and aspects of
national security. Many, many questions beg for research, including intensive
interrogation of failures. Among the new global developments with which to be
reckoned is the enlarging role of non-state, non-governmental organizations as
intermediaries, leading dialogue groups comprised of adversaries discussing
disputatious issues and working 'hands-on' to intervene directly in local
disputes. The role of the churches and laity in ending Mozambique's civil war
comes to mind. One challenge within IR is how to become more flexible in
viewing the world, in which the nation state cannot control social change, and
with the widening of civil space.





How did you arrive at
where you currently are in your thinking about IR?



I
came from a family that was deeply engaged with social issues. My father was the
eighth Methodist minister in six generations from North Carolina and Virginia.
The Methodist church in both Britain and the United States has a history of
concern for social responsibility ― a topic of constant discussion in my home
as a child and young adult. When four African American students began the
southern student sit-in movement in Greensboro, North Carolina, on February 1,
1960, by sitting-in at a Woolworth's lunch counter, I was still in college.
Although I am white, I began to think about how to join the young black people
who were intentionally violating the laws of racial segregation by conducting
sit-ins at lunch counters across the South. Soon more white people, very like
me, were joining them, and the sweep of student sit-ins had become truly
inter-racial. The sit-in movement is what provided the regional base for what
would become a mass U.S. civil rights movement, with tens of thousands of
participants, defined by the necessity for fierce nonviolent discipline. So,
coming from a home where social issues were regularly discussed it was almost
natural for me to become engaged in the civil rights movement. And I have
remained engaged with such issues for the rest of my life, while widening my
aperture. Today I work on a host of questions related to conflict, building
peace, gender, the combined field of gender and peace-building, and nonviolent
or civil resistance. At a very young age, I had started thinking as a citizen
of the world and watching what was happening worldwide, rather than merely in
the United States.



Martin Luther King (to whom I am
not related) would become one of history's most
influential agents for propagating knowledge of the potential for constructive
social change without resorting to violence. He was the most significant exemplar
for what we simply called The Movement. Yet the movement had two southern
organizations: in 1957 after the success of the Montgomery bus boycott of
1955-56, he created, along with others, the Southern Christian Leadership
Conference (SCLC). The other organization was the one for which I worked for
four years: the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC, pron. snick), which initially came into being literally to coordinate
among the leaders of the student sit-in campaigns. As the sit-ins spread across
the South, 70,000 black, and, increasingly, white, students participated. By
the end of 1960, 3,600 would have been jailed.



SCLC and SNCC worked together but
had different emphases: one of our emphases in SNCC was on eliciting leadership
representing the voices of those who had been ignored in the past. We
identified many women with remarkable leadership skills and sought to
strengthen them. We wanted to build institutions that would make it easier for
poor black southern communities to become independent and move out of the
'serfdom' in which they lived. Thus we put less prominence on large
demonstrations, which SCLC often emphasized. Rather, we stressed the building
of alternative (or parallel) institutions, including voter registration,
alternative political parties, cooperatives, and credit unions.





What would a student
need (dispositions, skills) to become a specialist in IR or understand the
world in a global way?



One requirement is a subject that
has virtually disappeared from the schools in the United States: the field of
geography. It used to be taught on every level starting in kindergarten, but
has now been melded into a mélange called 'social sciences'. You would be
surprised at how much ignorance exists and how it affects effectiveness. I
served for years on the board of directors of an esteemed international
non-profit private voluntary organization and recall a secretary who thought
that Africa was a country. This is not simplistic — if you don't know the names
of continents, countries, regions, and the basic political and economic
history, it's much harder to think critically about the world. Secondly,
students need to possess an attitude of reciprocity and mutuality. No perfect
country exists; there is no nirvana without intractable problems in our world.
No society, for example, has solved the serious problems of gender inequity
that impede all spheres of life. Every society has predicaments and problems
that need to be addressed, necessitating a constant process. So we each need to
stand on a platform in which every nation can improve the preservation of the
natural environment, the way it monitors and protects human rights, transitions
to democratic systems, the priority it places on the empowerment of women, and
so on. On this platform, concepts of inferior and superior are of little value.



You also co-authored an article in 1965 about the role of women and how working in a political movement for equality
(the civil rights movement) has affected your perceptions of the relationship
between men and women. Do you believe that the involvement of women in the
Civil Rights Movement brought more gender equality in the USA and do you think
involvement in Nonviolent Resistance movements in other places in the world
could start such a process?



From within the heart of the civil
rights movement I wrote an article with Casey Hayden, with whom I worked in
Atlanta in the main office of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC) and in the
Mississippi Freedom Summer of 1964. Casey
(Sandra Cason) and I were deeply engaged in a series of conversations involving
other women in SNCC about what we had been learning, the lessons from our work aiding
poor black people to organize, and asking ourselves whether our insights from
being part of SNCC could be applied to other forms of injustice, such as inequality
for women. The document reflected our growth and enlarging understanding of how
to mobilize communities, how to strategize, how to achieve lasting change, and
was a manifestation of this expanding awareness. The title was Sex and Caste – A Kind of Memo. Caste is an ancient Hindu demarcation
that not only determines an individual's social standing on the basis of
the group into which one is born, but also differentiates and assigns
occupational and economic roles. It cannot be
changed. Casey and I thought of caste as comparable to the sex of one's birth.
Women endure many forms of prejudice, bias, discrimination, and cruelty merely
because they are female. For these reasons we chose the term caste. We sent our
memorandum to forty women working in local peace and civil rights movements of
the United States. The anecdotal evidence is strong that it inspired other
women, who started coming together collectively to work on their own
self-emancipation in 'consciousness raising groups.' It had appeared in Liberation magazine of the War Resisters
League in April 1966 and was a catalyst in spurring the U.S. women's movement; indeed, the consciousness-raising
groups fuelled the women's movement in the United States during the 1970s. Historians
reflect that the article provided tinder for what is now called 'second-wave
feminism', and the 1965 original is anthologized as one of the
generative documents of twentieth-century gender studies.



We
have to remember that women's organizations are nothing new, but have been
poorly documented in history and that much information has been lost. Women
have been prime actors for nonviolent social change in many parts of the world
for a long time. New Zealand was the first country to grant women the vote, in
1893, after decades of organizing. Other countries followed: China, Iran, later
the United States and the United Kingdom. Women in Japan would not vote until
1946. IR expert
Fred Halliday contends that one of the most remarkable transnational movements
of the modern age was the women's suffrage movement. The movement to enfranchise women may have been the biggest
transnational nonviolent movement of human history. It was a significant
historical phenomenon that throws light on how it is sometimes easier to bring
about social and political change now than in the past.





Nonviolent movements seem to be growing
around the world, and not only in dictatorships but also in democracies in
Europe and the USA. How do you explain this?



I think that the sharing of
knowledge is the answer to this question. Study in the field of nonviolent
action has accelerated since the 1970s, often done by people who are both
practitioners and scholars, as am I. Organizing nonviolently for social justice
is not new, but the knowledge that has consolidated during the last 40 years
has been major. The works of Gene Sharp
have been significant, widely translated, and are accessible through the Albert EinsteinInstitution. His first major work, The Politics of Nonviolent
Action, in three volumes, came out in 1973 (Boston: Porter Sargent
Publishers). It marked the development of a new understanding of how this form
of cooperative action works, the conditions under which it can be optimized,
and the ways in which one can improve effectiveness. Sharp's works have since been
translated into more than 40 languages. Also valuable are the works and
translations of dozens of other scholars, who often stand on his shoulders.
Today there may be 200 scholar-activists in this field worldwide, with a great
deal of work now underway in related fields. Knowledge is being shared not only
through translated works, but also through organizations and their training
programs, such as the War Resisters League International and the International
Fellowship of Reconciliation, each of which came into existence in Britain around
World War I. Both are still running seminars, training programs, and
distributing books. George Lakey's Training for Change and a new database at Swarthmore College that
he has developed are sharing knowledge. So is the International Center for Nonviolent Conflict, which has built
a dramatic record in a short time, having run more than 400 seminars and
workshops in more than 139 countries. The three major films that ICNC has
produced (for example, 'Bringing Down a Dictator'), have
been translated into 20 languages and been publicly broadcast to more than 20
million viewers.



After its
success, leaders from the Serbian
youth movement Otpor! (Resistance) that in 2000 disintegrated the Slobodan Milošević dictatorship formed a network
of activists, including experienced veterans from civil-resistance struggles in
South Africa, the Philippines, Lebanon, Georgia, and Ukraine to share their
experiences with other movements. People can now more
easily find knowledge on the World Wide Web, often in their original language
or a second language, and they can find networks that share information about
their experiences, including their successes and failures.



I reject the Twitter explanation for
the increased use of nonviolent action or civil resistance, because all
nonviolent movements appropriate the most advanced technologies available. This
pattern is related to the importance of communications for their basic success.
Nonviolent mobilizations must be very shrewd in putting across their purpose,
their goals and objectives, preparing slogans, and conveying information on how
people can become involved. In order for people to join—bearing in mind that
numbers are important for success—it is critically important to make clear
what goal(s) you are seeking and why you have elected to work with civil
resistance. This decision is sometimes hard to understand for people who have
suffered great cruelty from their opponent, and who maintain 'but we are the
victims', making the sharing of the logic of the technique of civil resistance vital.





What would you say is the importance of
Nonviolent Resistance Studies in the field of International Relations and
Political Science? And how do you counter those who argue that some forms of
structural domination are only ended through violence?



In
this case we can look at the evidence and stay away from arguing beliefs or
ideology. Thanks to political scientists Erica Chenoweth and Maria J. Stephan,
who have produced a discerning work, Why Civil Resistance Works (2011), we now have
empirical evidence that removes this question from mystery. They studied 323
violent and nonviolent movements that occurred between 1900 and 2006 and found
that the nonviolent campaigns were twice as effective as violent struggles in
achieving their goals, while incurring fewer costly fatalities and producing
much greater prospects for democratic outcomes after the end of the campaign.
They found only one area in which violent movements have been more successful,
and that is in secessions. So, we don't need to dwell in the realm of opinion,
but can read their findings. Other scholars have written about the same issues
using qualitative data ― by doing interviews, developing case studies, and analytical
descriptions ― but the work of Chenoweth and Stephan is quantitative, putting
it in a different category due to its research methods.





Reading 'Why Civil Resistance Works' it
caught my eye that nonviolent campaigns seem less successful in the Middle East
and Asia than in other regions. Did you see that also in your own work? And if
so, do you have an explanation for it? In addition, do you believe that the
'Arab Awakening' is a significant turn in history, or did the name arise too
quickly and will it remain a temporary popular phrase?



What
I encountered in working in the Middle East was an expectation, notion, or hope
among people that a great leader would save them and bring them out of darkness.
This belief seems often to have kept the populace in a state of passivity.
Sometimes such pervasive theories of leadership are deeply elitist: one must be
well educated to be a leader, one must be born into that role, one must be
male, or the first son, etc. Such concepts of leadership discourage the taking
of independent civil action.



I think that the Arab Awakening has
been significant for a number of reasons. As one example, there had been a
widespread (and patronizing) assumption in the United States and the West that
the Arabs were not interested in democracy. We have heard from various sources
including Israel for decades that Arabs are not attracted to democracy. As a
matter of fact, I think that all people want a voice. All human beings
wish to be listened to and to be able to express their hopes and aspirations.
This is a fundamental basis of democracy and widely applicable, although
democracy may take different forms. The Arab Awakening rebutted this arrogant
assumption. This does not mean that the course will be easy. One of my Egyptian
colleagues said to me, 'We have had dictatorship since 1952, but after Tahir
Square you expect us to build a perfect democracy in 52 weeks! It cannot
happen!'



Among the first concessions
sought by the 2011 Arab revolts was rejection of the right of a dictator's sons
to succeed him. The passing of power from father to son has been a
characteristic of patriarchal societies, in the Arab world and elsewhere. Anthropologist John Borneman notes, 'The public renunciation of the son's claim to inherit the
father's power definitively ends the specific Arab model of succession that has
been incorporated into state dictatorships among tribal authorities'. In Tunisia to Egypt, Libya,
Syria, and Yemen (not all of which are successes), such movements have sought
to end the presumption of father-son inheritance of rule.



I believe that we are seeing the start of a broad democratization process
in the Middle East, not its end. The learning and preparation that had been occurring
in Egypt prior to Tahrir Square was extensive. Workshops had been underway for
10 to 15 years before people filled Tahrir Square. Women bloggers had for years
been monitoring torture and sharing news from outside. One woman blogger
translated a comic book into Arabic about the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King
Jr, from the 1960s, and had it distributed all over Cairo. Labor unions had
been very active. According
to historian Joel Beinin, from 1998 to 2010 some 3 million laborers took part
in 3,500 to 4,000 strikes, sit-ins, demonstrations, and other actions,
realizing more than 600 collective labor actions per year in 2007 and 2008. In the years immediately before the revolution, these
actions became more coherent. Wael Ghonim, a 30-year-old Google executive, set
up a Facebook page and used Google technologies to share ideas and knowledge
about what ordinary people can do. The April 6 Youth Movement, set up in 2008, three years before Tahrir, sent one of
its members to Belgrade in 2009, to learn how Otpor! had galvanized the
bringing down of Milošević. He returned to Cairo with materials and films,
lessons from other nonviolent movements, and workshop materials. This all goes
back to the sharing of knowledge. Yet the Egyptians have now come to the point
where they must assume responsibility and accountability for the whole and make
difficult decisions for their society. It will be a long and difficult process.
And it raises the question of what kind of help from outside is essential.





Why do you raise this point; do you think
outside help is essential?



I know from having
studied a large number of nonviolent movements in different parts of the globe
that the sharing of lessons laterally among mobilizations and nonviolent
struggles is highly effective. African American leaders were traveling by
steamer ship from 1919 until the outbreak of World War II to the Indian
subcontinent, to learn from Gandhi and the Indian independence struggles. This
great interchange between black leaders in the United States and the Gandhian
activists, as the historian Sudarshan Kapur shows in Raising
Up A Prophet (1992), was critically significant in the
solidification of consensus in the U.S. black community on nonviolent means. I have written about how the knowledge moved from East
to West in my book Mahatma Gandhi and Martin Luther King. Scholarly exchanges and interchanges among activists
from other struggles are both potentiating and illuminating. Most
observers fail to see that nonviolent mobilizations often have very deep roots
involving the lateral sharing of experience and know-how.





You have written a book about the first
uprising, or 'intifada', in the Occupied Palestinian Territories between 1987
and 1993. The second Palestinian uprising did not contain much nonviolent
tactics though. Do you foresee another uprising soon? If not, why? If yes, do
you think that Nonviolent Actions will play again an important role in that
uprising, or is it more likely to turn violent?



Intifada is linguistically a
nonviolent word: It means shaking off and has no violent implication
whatsoever. (This word is utterly inappropriate for what happened in the
so-called Second Intifada, although it started out as a nonviolent endeavor.)
In the 1987 intifada, virtually the entire Palestinian society living under
Israel's military occupation unified itself with remarkable cohesion on the use
of nonviolent tools. The first intifada (1987-1993, especially 1987-1990)
benefited from several forces at work in the 1970s and 1980s, about which I
write in A Quiet Revolution (2007), one of which came from Palestinian activist
intellectuals working with Israeli groups, who wanted to end occupation for
their own reasons. These Israeli peace activists thought the occupation
degraded them, made them less than
human, in addition to oppressing Palestinians. The second so-called intifada
was not a 'shaking off'. For the first time, it bade attacks against the
Israeli settlements, which had not occurred before.



Let me put it this way: in virtually every situation, there is some
potential for human beings to take upon themselves their own liberation through
nonviolent action. We may expect that such potential is dormant and waiting for
enactment. Disciplined nonviolent action is underway in a number of
village-based struggles against the separation barrier in the West Bank right
now, in which Israeli allies are among the action takers. As another example,
the Freedom Theatre in Jenin is using Freedom Rides, a concept
adopted from the U.S. southern Civil Rights Movement, riding buses to the South
Hebron Hills villages and along the way using drama, music, and giant puppets
as a way of stimulating debate about Israeli occupation. Bloggers and writers
share their experiences (see e.g. this post by Nathan Schneider). For
the first time, as we speak, the Freedom Bus will travel from the West Bank to
make two performances in historic pre-1948 Palestine (Israel), in Haifa and the
Golan, in June 2013. A Palestinian 'Empty Stomach' campaign, led by Palestinian
political prisoners in Israel, has had some success in using hunger strikes to
press Israeli officials for certain demands. With the purpose of prevailing
upon Israel to conform to international resolutions pertaining to the
Palestinians and to end its military occupation, Palestinian civic
organizations in 2005 launched a Boycott, Divestment Sanctions (BDS) campaign,
drawing upon the notable example of third-party sanctions applied in the
anti-apartheid struggle in South Africa. The Palestinian Authority has called
for non-state observer status at the United Nations and supports the boycotting
of products from Israeli settlements resistance.



More and more Palestinians are now
saying, 'We must fight for our rights with nonviolent resistance'. Many
Israelis are also deeply concerned about the future of their country. I
recently got an email from an Israeli who was deeply affected by reading Quiet
Revolution and has started to reach out to
Palestinians and take actions to bring to light the injustices that he
perceives. Tremendous debate is underway about new techniques, novel processes,
and how to shift gears to more effective mutual action. The United States
government and its people continue to pay for Israel's occupation and
militarization, which has abetted the continuation of conflict, although it is
often done in the name of peace! The United States has not incentivized the
building of peace. It has done almost nothing to help the construction of
institutions that could assist coexistence.



Also,
it is very important for the entire world, including Israelis, to recognize
intentional nonviolent action when they see it. The Israeli government
persisted in denying that the 1987 Intifada was nonviolent, when the Palestinian
populace had been maintaining extraordinary nonviolent discipline for nearly
three years, despite harsh reprisals. Israeli officials continued to call it
'unending war' and 'the seventh war'. Indeed, it was not perfect nonviolent discipline,
but enough that was indicative of a change in political thinking among the
people in the Palestinian areas that could have been built upon. Although some
Israeli social scientists accurately perceived the sea change in Palestinian
political thought about what methods to use in seeking statehood and the
lifting of the military occupation, the government of Israel generally did not
seize upon such popularly enacted nonviolent discipline to push for progress.
My sources for Quiet Revolution
include interviews with Israelis, such as the former Chief Psychologist of the
Israel Defense Force and IDF spokesperson.





Your latest book is about the transitions
of the Eastern European countries from being under Soviet rule to independent
democracies. You chose to illustrate these transitions with New York Times
articles. Why did you chose this approach; do you think the NY Times was
important as a media agency in any way or is there another reason?



There
is another reason: The New York Times
and CQ Press approached me and asked if I would write a reference book on the
nonviolent revolutions of the Eastern bloc, using articles from the Times that I would choose upon which to
hang the garments of the story. The point of the work is to help particularly
young people learn that they can study history by studying newspapers. The book
gives life to the old adage that newspaper reporters write the first draft of
history. In the book's treatment of these nonviolent revolutions, I chose ten Times articles for
each of the major ten struggles that are addressed, adding my historical
analysis to complete the saga for each country. It had been difficult for Times reporters to get into Poland, for
example, in the late 1970s and the crucial year of 1980; they sometimes risked
their lives. Yet it's in the nature of journalism that their on-the-spot
reportage needed additional analysis; furthermore newspaper accounts often
stress description.



After
the 1968 Prague Spring, when the Soviet Union sent 750,000 troops and tanks
from five Warsaw Pact countries into Czechoslovakia, crushing that revolt,
across Eastern Europe a tremendous amount of fervent work got underway by small
non-official committees, often below the radar of the communist party states.
This included samizdat (Russian for
'self published'), works not published by the state publishing machinery,
underground publications that were promoting new ways of thinking about how to
address their dilemma. Poland, Czechoslovakia, and Lithuania were the most
active in the Eastern bloc with their major but covert samizdat. As it was
illegal in Czechoslovakia for a citizen to own a photocopy machine, 'books'
were published by using ten pieces of onion-skin paper interspersed with carbon
sheets, 'publishing' each page by typing it and its copies on a manual
typewriter.



The
entire phenomenon of micro-committees, flying universities, samizdat boutiques,
seminars, drama with hidden meanings, underground journals, and rock groups
transmitting messages eluded outside observers, who were not thinking about
what the people could do for themselves. The economists and Kremlinologists who
were observing the Eastern bloc did not discern what the playwrights, small
committees of activist intellectuals, local movements, labor unions,
academicians, and church groups were undertaking. They did not imagine the
scope or scale of what the people were doing for themselves with utmost
self-reliance. In essence, no one saw these nonviolent revolutions coming, with
the exception of the rare onlooker, such as the historian Timothy Garton Ash. Even today the
peaceful transitions to democracy of the Eastern bloc are sometimes explained
by saying 'Gorby did it', when Gorbachev did not come to power until 1985. Or by
attributing the alterations to Reagan's going to Berlin and telling Gorbachov
to tear down the Wall. 



By
December 1981, Poland was under martial law, which unleashed a high degree of
underground organizing, countless organizations of self-help, reimagining of
the society, and the publishing of samizdat. Still, even so, some people
believe that this sweeping political change was top-down.  It is indisputably true that nonviolent
action usually interacts with other forces and forms of power, but I would say
that we need this book for its accessible substantiation of historically
significant independent nonviolent citizen action as a critical element in the
collapse of the Soviet Union.





You also mention Al Jazeera as an
important media agency in your most recent blog post at 'Waging Nonviolence'.
You wrote that Al Jazeera has an important role in influencing global affairs.
Could you explain why? And more generally, how important is diversification of
media for international politics?



Al
Jazeera generally has not been taking the point of view of the official organs
of governments of Arab countries and has usually not reported news from
ministries of information. Additionally, it often carries reports from local
correspondents in the country at issue. If you are following a report from
Gaza, it is likely to be a Gazan journalist who is transmitting to Al Jazeera.
If it is a report from Egypt, it may well be an Egyptian correspondent. Al
Jazeera also has made a point of reporting news from Israel, and utilizing
reporters in Tel Aviv, which may be a significant development. Certainly in the
2010-2011 Arab Awakening, it made a huge difference that reports were coming
directly from the action takers rather than the official news outlets of Arab
governments.



President
George W. Bush did not want Al Jazeera to come to the United States, because he
considered it too anti-American. I remember reading at the time that the first
thing that Gen. Colin Powell said to Al Jazeera was 'can you tone it down a
little?' when asking why Al Jazeera couldn't be less anti-American in its news.
To me, either you support free speech or you do not; it's free or it's not: You
can't have a little bit of control and a little bit of freedom.



Until
recently, Al Jazeera was not easily available in the United States, except in
Brattleboro, Vermont; Washington, DC; and a few other places. It was difficult
to get it straight in the United States. I mounted a special satellite so that
I could get Al Jazeera more freely. This does not speak well for freedom of the
press in the United States. This may change with the advent of Al Jazeera
America, although we still do not know to what degree it will represent an
editorially free press.



News
agencies are important for civil-resistance movements for major reasons.
Popular mobilizations need good communications internally and externally!  People need to understand clearly what is the
purpose and strategy and to be part of the making of decisions. Learning also crucially
needs to take place inside the movement: activist intellectuals often act as
interpreters, framing issues anew, suggesting that an old grievance is now
actionable. No one expects the butcher, the baker, or the candlestick maker,
and everyone else in the movement to read history and theory.



When
news media are interested and following a popular movement of civil resistance,
they can enhance the spread of knowledge. In the U.S. civil rights movement,
the Southern white-owned newspapers considered the deaths of black persons or
atrocities against African Americans as not being newsworthy. There was
basically a 'black-out', if you want to call it that, with no pun. Yet dreadful
things were happening while we were trying to mobilize, organize, and get out the
word. So SNCC created its own media, and Julian Bond
and others and I set up nationwide alternative outlets. Eventually we had 12
photographers across the South. This is very much like what the people of the
Eastern bloc did with samizdat — sharing and disseminating papers, articles,
chapters, even whole books. The media can offer a tremendous boost, but
sometimes you have to create your own.





Last question. You combine scholarship
with activism. How do you reconcile the academic claim for 'neutrality' with
the emancipatory goals of activism?



To
be frank, I am not searching for neutrality in my research. Rather, I strive
for accuracy, careful transcription, and scrupulous gathering of evidence. I
believe that this is how we can become more effective in working for justice,
environmental protection, sustainable development, pursuing human rights, or
seeking gender equity as critical tools to build more peaceable societies.
Where possible I search for empirical data. So much has been ignored, for
example, with regards to the effects of gendered injustice. I do not seek
neutrality on this matter, but strong evidence. For example, since the 1970s, experts
have known that the education of women has profoundly beneficial and measurable
effects across entire societies, benefiting men, children, and women. Data from
Kerala, India; Sri Lanka; and elsewhere has shown that when you educate women
the entire society is uplifted and that all indicators shift positively. The
problem is that the data have for decades been ignored or trivialized. We need
much more than neutrality. We need to interpret evidence and data clearly to
make them compelling and harder to ignore. I think that we can do this with
methodologies that are uncompromisingly scrupulous.





Mary Elizabeth King is professor of peace and conflict studies at the
UN-affiliated University for Peace and and is Scholar-in-Residence in the
School of International Service, at the American University in Washington, D.C.
She is also a Distinguished Fellow of the Rothermere American Institute at the
University of Oxford, in the United Kingdom. Her most recent book is The
New York Times on Emerging Democracies in Eastern Europe (Washington, D.C.:
Times Reference and CQ Press/Sage, 2009), chronicling the nonviolent
transitions that took place in Poland,  Hungary, East Germany,
Czechoslovakia, the Baltic states, Serbia, Georgia, and Ukraine in the late
1980s and early 1990s. She is the author of the highly acclaimed A
Quiet Revolution: The First Palestinian Intifada and Nonviolent Resistance (New
York: Nation Books, 2007; London: Perseus Books, 2008), which examines crucial
aspects of the 1987 uprising overlooked or misunderstood by the media,
government officials, and academicians. 





Related links





King's personal page 
Read the book edited by
King on Peace Research for Africa
(UNU, 2007) here (pdf) 
Read the book by King Teaching Model: Nonviolent Transformation of
Conflict (UNU, 2006) here (pdf)










Print version of this Talk (pdf)





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