I would like to begin by recalling a classical (Socratic) dictum: reason is peace, power is war.1 To engage in dialogue and deliberation, to seek after knowledge and truth, is to pursue the way of discourse and to abjure the avenues of combat and struggle. Reason, it is said, delivers us from the shackles of error and ignorance. To have power is to control, to dominate, and, where needed, to coerce, forcing another, on pains of death even, to comply, to bend. Truth, then, so says this tradition, stands beyond the domain of force, while power is nothing other than violence itself.Now, of course, we live in an age in which this fundamental principle, this separation of the domains of reason and power, has been profoundly called into question. It is well known that the advent of totalitarianism has been read as the validation of the longstanding critique of reason that began, we can say, with the Sophists and runs through Adorno and, in our own time, Agamben: reason/ discourse/truth/language, so this subterranean tradition proclaims, is always and necessarily power/domination/coercion and power/domination/coercion is always and necessarily violence. One essentialism here replaces another. The de jure opposition of reason and power gives way to their de jure identification. To put the matter all too simply, to engage in debate is always a tactical maneuver in a play for control and control is always ultimately a matter of force. But where reason just is power and power just is sheer domination, rationality can be nothing other than ideology. Hence, where everything is the same, where indifference reigns, critique threatens to give way to intuition, to fideism, to blind acceptance, and thus to dogmatism. Now this, at least in its broad outlines, sketches, I believe, the predicament in which we find ourselves today when we seek to examine the question of violence. Where reason and power are equated, a genuine critique of Gewalt, of power, force, violence-to invoke Benjamin's famous designation for this project-becomes impossible; for distanciation between the object of such a critique and the power of critique is required in order to establish and police the valid boundaries of violence, and this is precisely what the identification under which we now labor threatens to undermine.Foucault, Politics, and Violence marks a decisive and important intervention in this problematic.2 It creates a vital opening that signals an extremely promising way forward in the construction of a genuine critique of violence. Its core claim-which it draws with care and subtle erudition from a perhaps surprising source, Foucault, who, to be sure, was never himself a theorist of violence-is that for violence to become a genuine object of critique it must be treated as a specific, historically varying technique of power; as one technique, though, it is not the essence of power itself. As a determinate practice, violence has only a historical, contingent relationship with the political and with the rational. The proper work of critique then, on this reading, is to analyze the historically specific forms of violence and to examine the ways in which they have become entangled with various kinds of rationalities.In support of this project, Professor Oksala develops a nuanced argument that can be said to revolve around two key theses: ( 1 ) the politicization of ontology (chapter 1 ), and (2) the historicization of violence (chapter 2).Consider first the politicization of ontology. Oksala shows that reality is the result of social practices and struggles over what counts as truth and objectivity. It is in this sense then that being as such (the object of ontology) is nothing other than, as Oksala wonderfully puts it, politics that has forgotten itself (FPV, 6; cf. 10 and 35). She persuasively, in my view, argues against the influential interpretations of both Ian Hacking, who seeks to restrict Foucault's analyses to the social domain, thereby reserving a place for a robust naturalism, and Beatrice Han-Pile, who sees in Foucault's thought an unacknowledged metaphysics of power. …
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