The Ruptures of American Capital: Women of Color Feminism and the Culture of Immigrant Labor
The Ruptures of American Capital: Women of Color Feminism and the Culture of Immigrant Labor
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美国资本的破裂:有色人种女性女权主义和移民劳工文化
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发表时间:
2015
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通讯作者:
Kelly E. Happe
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作者:
Kelly E. Happe
existence could come before essence, and he brushed off with a shrug the very idea that individuals could ever stand outside of discourse. Individuality, Foucault argued repeatedly and emphatically, was a product of power, knowledge, and discourse; the soul, he wrote in Discipline and Punish, was the prison of the body. His later work on the care of the self therefore raises a question: did Foucault change his tune? In the end, did he pine for a form of subjectivity outside of the reach of discourse, surveillance, discipline, and biopower? Did he end up affirming the very authenticity that he once derided as lunacy? According to Jeffrey Nealon, to read Foucault as a proponent of a politics of authenticity is to transform him into a neoliberal stooge, just another peddler of products and ideas that promote the fulfillment of a false authenticity but leave contemporary structures of power intact. In Foucault Beyond Foucault, Nealon contends that Foucault’s writings on the care of the self are not a diversion from his earlier research agenda but instead an intensification of his earlier concern with biopolitics. Reading Foucault alongside contemporary Marxist theory, Nealon takes the individual out of the equation to focus on the power of grassroots mobilization against the status quo. Eric Paras, in his book Foucault 2.0, argues the contrary. As indicated by his book’s title, Paras contends that in the end Foucault repudiated much of his earlier work that aimed to make the concept of “man” and “the individual” obsolete (as he argued notoriously in The Order of Things). Foucault became enamored with liberalism, Paras argues, and sought to affirm a form of individuality that created space for an authenticity outside of power’s reach while still being true to the bottom-up, circulating reality of power in the twentieth-century. He sought, in short, to reimagine liberalism from within. I tend to think of Foucault’s turn to subjectivity more in light of Heidegger’s humanism than neoliberalism, but no matter: although Nealon forcefully argues his position, Paras marshals much more evidence than Nealon (who does not even cite Foucault’s last lectures). What was Foucault’s game at the end of his life: repudiation or intensification? The stakes of this question are high, and it is one with which we rhetorical scholars must grapple, for it touches on the most basic matters of discourse and subjectivity and asks us to seriously consider what we are up to as scholars and teachers. In the coming years, I hope to engage with other rhetorical scholars in conversations about the care of the self. Some of the questions that we might ask include: What might the care of the self look like today, in our hyper-mediated, politically divided, postmodern society, which teaches people to imagine themselves less as citizens and more as consumers? How can we teach citizens to be more reflective about how they use—and are used by—language? What, finally, would contemporary “spiritual practices” look like, and how could they be oriented to promoting better forms of democratic engagement and ethical awareness?