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Natural right, immanent power

October 9, 2007

I attended a presentation tonight given by the Federalists and which featured a talk by a noted Constitutional law scholar. Throughout his discussion of originalism and formalism as doctrinal forces operating conjunctively (sometimes in tandem, sometimes in tension) in contemporary Supreme Court jurisprudence with respect to questions of criminal procedure, I kept coming back to an observation made by Deleuze in a lecture he gave on Spinoza, Hobbes, and natural right, which goes,

“[W]hat is this history of power, and of defining things by power[?] I say: there was a very important moment, a very important tradition, where it is very difficult, historically, to get one’s bearings, if you don’t have some schemas and reference marks, some points of recognition. It is a history which concerns natural right, and this history concerning natural right, it is necessary that you understand this: today this appears to us at first glance very out of date, as much juridically as politically. The theories of natural right, in the manuals of law, or in the manuals of sociology, we always see a chapter on natural right, and we treat it as a theory which lasted until Rousseau, including Rousseau, up until the 18th century, but today no one is interested in it, in the problem of natural right.”

Deleuze, “Power and Classical Natural Right,” 9/12/1980, 2-3.

And Deleuze goes on to revitalize the question of natural right in political theory, inflected with his distinctive idea of quantitative distribution as power. But what I want to call attention to in quoting this passage is that Deleuze quite rightly locates the end of rights discourse in Rousseau. Chronologically perhaps this is not quite accurate, but this is not what is at issue: Rousseau is the culmination of rights discourse, the pinnacle of the pyramid. Rousseau has some beautiful – “romantic” – writings on the question of fundamental rights and their role in structuring social organizations. What is fascinating for an American in such a state of affairs is that Rousseau has a remarkable presence in the Federalist Papers (tonight someone called these documents “ratification propaganda,” to the chagrin of many in the room) as well as the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution, and other utterly central items of national interest. In civil law countries (continental Europe), Rousseau and the discourse of rights are not determining forces, at least not in the same way he and it are here in America. Libertarianism and other conservative ideologies would be impossible without this discourse; and such brands of thought and praxis are trademarked Americana by now. Moreover, if not merely the “end” / culmination of natural rights discourse appears with Rousseau but also its death, from Deleuze’s vantage point, it is evident that a sort of metempsychosis has brought it across the Atlantic and localized it at the very heart of American law and politics.

Natural right theory, or natural law, has as its core maxim the notion that innate and naturally-determined (or, more typically, theistically-determined), “inalienable rights” exist, and marks as the function of such regional sciences as jurisprudence and ethics the defense and upholding of such rights. As naturally-determined, these rights enjoy Universality. There is more to say on this peculiar Universality. But it is enough to note that, like Husserl’s Bedeutungen in the Logical Investigations, Vol. II, Inv. I, § 35, rights are not created, but discovered; they have no genetic history, but rather exist in their own particular ideal realm as analytic unities. Doctrine serves to “translate” these ideal unities into empirical rules.

Such metaphysical (literally onto-theological) obscurities should give us reason to pause. This Thomistic (not Aristotelian!) theory has survived legal realism (despite its transparent status as “transcendental nonsense,” in Felix Cohen’s words, however imprecise from a philosophical standpoint) and critical legal assault. In a sense. Battered and bruised, for sure, but nevertheless still breathing. Isn’t this astonishing?

In a future post, I will take up the question of the genesis of practical ensembles in order to try to account for social phenomena like this. But for now, let me limit my inquiry to the role of natural right theory in American Constitutional jurisprudence, and gesture toward a Deleuzian critique.

Originalism, a critical commentator at tonight’s talk said, is largely absent in all other Constitutional discourses in the world today. It is, in sum, a distinctly American juridical phenomenon. It demonstrates the fondness with which our culture relates to origins, traditions, and so on. Appeal to the original intent of the framers of the Constitution in order to resolve contemporary issues of law – which, of course, no soothsaying framer could have possibly foreseen – is a relatively uncontroversial approach (in Constitutional Law courses, in undergrad as in law school, students are told that “original intent” is one of the five major categories of argument the proponent or opponent of a particular position can make). Originalist arguments are frequently, notably by conservative Justices such as Scalia and an army of lesser federal judges in Circuit Courts, granted what amounts to a default status, as if divining the original intent of the framers automatically resolves the matter at hand. Of course this is reductionistic, but I think it is generally accurate. Critics often complain that originalism has no such claim to default status, that the Constitution is not an inert artifact but a “living document” changing with the social conditions of a particular time, or various other similar arguments of varying degrees of sophistication, all hinging on the notion that the original intent of the framers is more or less irrelevant. In a cultural sense, what is revealed in this phenomenon (and the degree of radicality attributed to the otherwise typical commentators attacking this appeal to historical authority) is the American fetish of the arche.

The Constitutional law scholar presenting tonight formulated a distinction under the proper names “Scalia” and “Breyer” and identified these names with two approaches to Constitutional jurisprudence: archaeological and architectural, respectively. The archeaological or ex post, retrospective approach is fundamentally conservative (in a broad sense) while the architectural or ex ante, prospective approach is fundamentally progressive and pragmatic. The archaeological jurisprudence of Scalia features an emphasis on originalism and formalism and seeks to find the delicate balance between the two notions that will generate “just results,” i.e., clear, bright-line rules in accord with the original intent of the framers. Though the speaker did not suggest as much, the architectural approach of Breyer could just as easily be splintered into a dichotomy featuring an appeal to origins as one part, though no default status is thereby attributed (rather, original intent assists in the decision insofar as it is pragmatically and efficiently possible to allow it to do so). Both of these approaches, then, manifest this fetish of the arche in the properly juridical sphere, indeed, in the highest court in that sphere (for Americans).

Isn’t there some tertium quid, some third way? Some way that does not privilege the arche and which nevertheless attains justice, inasmuch as that is possible? Yes, there is, if we are able to recognize the dividuality, in Deleuzian terms, of the nation-state: original intent (assuming completely arguendo that this is both possible and desirable to divine) loses its status as authority or legitimating ground insofar as the nation has qualitatively changed since the ratification of the Constitution, by way of a redistribution of intensive quanta. Intensive factors such as populations and socio-cultural pluralities and processes of pluralization, the immaterialization of labor, and so forth have operated to constitute a new field of cultural individuation, one that is qualitatively different from that at work in 1787 (or 1819, 1865, 1929, 1945, 2001…).

And this is what allows me to say fetish: such a situation is manifestly symptomatic of a sort of political delirium.

The appeal to origins can be refashioned, Deleuze tells us, as long as we recognize that it is not essence, not “nature” in this sense, that gives “rights” (useless representations, he tells us elsewhere) – no, “natural right” must be understood on the basis of a conception of “essence” as power, as what a body can do, what relations it can enter into and which will work for the heightening of capacity of that body. A Deleuzian natural (immanent, not innate) right (power) theory! It is worth thinking about.

2 comments

  1. A Deleuzian natural right? Interesting article but I think you’ve bypassed the obvious. If Deleuze grounds his theory in the real (he claimed his theory was nontranscendent, Badiou said otherwise) natural rights do not exist (rights derived from some far flung metaontological scheme). Deleuze even went so far as to give a small comment on what he considered the ‘absurdity’ of human or universal rights. Read the article here: http://www.generation-online.org/p/fpdeleuze10.htm .In Deleuze we do not find a formula for ethical or legal grounds, what we find instead is the abolishment of all rights and perhaps a twisted irony: his anarcho-desiring can be reinterpretated as a textbook for totalitarianism. If rights mean an atavistic appeal to origins, then I will stick with origins.


  2. Andy, thanks for your note. The text you link to, from the ABCs interview, is quite famous, at least in critical legal circles. I had these comments in the back of my head when I wrote this little post on natural rights and immanent power. Let’s see if we can’t make this disjunction productive.

    First: “Natural right” is a problematic term, in a Deleuzian frame of reference. Rights are expressly disclaimed in more than one place in his work (as I noted: useless representations). The natural, moreover, is a suspicious category for Deleuze because of his poststructuralist milieu. Of course, on the other hand, DeLanda and Protevi et al. claim that Deleuze is a naturalist. What rectifies this apparent paradox is that the natural is understood differently in those two statements. The natural that does not exist is effectively the pragmatic natural, if I may invent a category; by that term, I mean the illusory effect of the status quo, the appearance that the-way-things-are is also the-way-things-must-be. Essentially, this is naturality as necessity. Deleuze abhors this idea. On the other hand, things are natural insofar as they undergo a process of genesis, have a developmental history, and so on. This would be the natural as evolutionary; everything is evolutionary, hence Deleuze is a naturalist in this sense. What this means for “natural right,” then, is that whatever “right” might be, it is natural insofar as it develops across times and spaces. So far, so good. A “right” in this conception would be a power – Deleuze, in the lecture I’ve quoted in the original post, effectively revamps this notion explicitly. Power in the sense of capacity is central to Deleuze’s ethics (I’ll detail this below). The books on Spinoza might as well have, “we do not even know what a body can do!” as a refrain, a ritornello. “What can a body do?” is the fundamental question of Deleuzian ethics. A body is an assemblage of perceptive and affective forces, as we know, which enter into various relations of composition and decomposition with one another. This is the criteria for the categorization of “good” and “bad” or “noble” and “base” that Deleuze uses in his book on Nietzsche, and elsewhere. What we have, then, is an underdeveloped legal theory such that “rights” are conceived as capacities for composition or decomposition that develop and change over time and change with their spaces of insertion. It is relativistic, in a sense (perhaps this would be a point of contention for some to take up?), and it would take some work to formulate the methods of application of the categories Deleuze suggests (and we might want to lose the aristocratic Nietzschean terms, like noble/base), and to adapt the theory to specific problems. But I’m merely suggesting, too allusively, in this post, that there is a possibility for a Deleuzian legal theory beyond the contemporary, lame attempts at using traditional legal analysis in the guise of fancy words like “deterritorializing-machines.” See the issue of the International Journal for the Semiotics of Law dedicated to appropriating Deleuze for legal theory for examples.

    Second: I have to take issue with your claim that runs, “In Deleuze we do not find a formula for ethical or legal grounds…” There is assuredly a rigorous conception of ethics developed across many of Deleuze’s works, notably Nietzsche & Philosophy. Daniel W. Smith has an excellent article in an old edition of Parrhesia that meticulously reconstructs this framework – “Deleuze & the Question of Desire: Toward an Immanent Theory of Ethics”. This ethical theory – which is in a sense the very kernel of Deleuze’s entire work – conceives of, shall we say, “rights” in terms of quantitative distribution (power, as he claims in the lecture I cited), but this is something Smith does not develop in this piece. The crux of the ethics deployed throughout his work lies hidden in the frequently reiterated claim that “we always have the desires we deserve,” “we always have the X we deserve.” Desert is conceived not as a feudalistic station in life, a place in the Great Chain of Being that forbids mobility, etc. Rather, it is conceived as the posing of a problem. The way I pose my problem(s) determines the solution(s) I receive; in turn, I can pose my problem(s) within the limits prescribed by the given material conditions in a given situation. This holds for Deleuze’s notion of morphogenesis (what he calls “indi-different/ciation,” a nightmare of a term, in Difference & Repetition) in general. For Deleuze, moreover, a given situation always immanently generates the conditions for its own dissolution – we can thus say that for Deleuze every situation is dissipative in at least one sense. This is crucial for a productive appropriation of the Deleuzian schematic. Note that (I think) Badiou only covers over his indebtedness to Deleuze in his book bearing the latter’s name; it’s important to be critical of the positions he takes with regard to someone who was obviously so important for his own development.

    Stay tuned for when I develop this theme. You can probably help me along.



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