Daniel McLoughlin, Agamben and Radical Politics, Edinburgh University Press, 2016, 280 pp., £70.00 (cloth), ISBN: 9781474402637.

Giorgio Agamben’s current research aims to illuminate the deep and often concealed foundations of the political institutions that structure the present. In the early stages of his Homo Sacer series, he proffers a scathing examination of the modern nation state and demonstrates how this institution functions vis-à-vis a decisionistic model of sovereignty. Drawn from the political theology of Carl Schmitt, Agamben observes that the essential activity of the sovereign is the decision that divides the state of exception from the sphere of the normal application of law. Agamben however proceeds a step further by rearticulating this Schmittian schema in terms of Foucault’s analyses of bio-power. This theoretical amalgam locates the object of the sovereign decision, the material upon which the decision bears, in the sheer biological existence—the naked or bare life—of the human being. The situation that Agamben fleshes out is in this manner a constitutively aporetic one: the positive force of law applies only inasmuch as it simultaneously demarcates within itself a zone of exclusion in which the law is itself suspended. In other words, the sovereign delineates the proper domain of law vis-à-vis an exclusive inclusion that places the very life that serves as its basis outside of the normal juridical sphere of application, paradoxically including and capturing such a life within itself.

Despite being a highly theoretical enterprise, Agamben nevertheless brings to the fore a concrete spatial implication in this vision of modernity. Space becomes thematic when Agamben links the historical emergence of the concentration camp to his biopolitical account of sovereign power. He claims that whenever sovereignty enters into a period of crisis, as it did, for example, in Germany under National Socialist leadership, the state of exception upon which the sovereign decides begins to coincide with the rule of law and eventually enters a threshold of indiscernibility. In the case of our historical example, Agamben is alluding to the emendation of the Weimar constitution that conferred emergency dictatorial powers on Adolf Hitler in 1933. Agamben explicitly notes how the phenomenon of the camp finds its historical advent within this emergency suspension of the normal rule of law: “The camp is the space that is opened when the state of exception begins to become the rule. In the camp, the state of exception, which was essentially a temporary suspension of the rule of law on the basis of a factual state of danger, is now given a permanent spatial arrangement…” (1995: 168-69). No longer merely a virtual component of an operation that secures juridical applicability in theory, the state of exception takes on actual spatial dimensions during such periods of crisis. The connection between a permanent juridical state of exception and the appearance of the camp is indeed a structural one, and thus cannot be simply explained away as a brutal aberration limited to the fascist regimes of the mid-20th century. Additionally, since global politics has yet to overcome the institution of the nation-state, the camp remains to this day an imminent possibility that consistently re-appears in a variety of different forms: airports, detention centers, public schools, the indigenous reservations in the US, and the Bantustans in South Africa, Guantanamo Bay, and so on. In all of these spaces the normal rule of law is suspended and naked life is therein potentially exposed to the unmediated violence of sovereignty. The reality of the camp in all of these various instantiations is, for Agamben, the concrete evidence that exposes the hidden logic of the exception—the capture of life by the sovereign’s gesture of exclusive inclusion—at the root of our political institutions, and thus merits the title of the veritable nomos—the fundamental order or structure—of our political modernity.

The figure of the refugee appears in times of crisis as another symptom of contemporary biopolitics for Agamben:

That there is no autonomous space in the political order of the nation-state for something like the pure human in itself is evident at the very least from the fact that, even in the best of cases, the status of the refugee has always been considered a temporary condition that ought to lead either to naturalization or to repatriation. A stable statute of the human in itself is inconceivable in the law of the nation state (2000: 20).

The refugee’s appearance reveals the biopolitical core of contemporary sovereign power insofar as the sheer fact of the refugee’s living being, the state of being a “pure human in itself,” embodies the excluded life intrinsic to the juridical operation of sovereignty. Stateless individuals, stripped of the juridical predicates of citizenship, possess the same quality as the naked life that sovereignty must perpetually exclude in order to function. The refugee thus radically calls into question the nation state form by bringing to light its often concealed structure. Agamben can therefore claim that “inasmuch as the refugee, an apparently marginal figure, unhinges the old trinity of state-nation-territory, it deserves instead to be regarded as the central figure of our political history.” (2000: 22) Whether on Christmas Island, the US border with Mexico, or the Calais Jungle in France, contemporary reality testifies to the pertinence of both the camp and the refugee—as well as their structural interrelatedness—for any serious-minded diagnosis of the political present.

Although Agamben’s political thought became a focal point for discussion, most notably after the attacks of September 11, 2001 and the subsequent enactment of emergency measures such as the Patriot Act in the United States, it follows from the aforementioned examples that the political figures treated in Agamben’s work have a pronounced bearing on contemporary political reality. The same could be said of the urgent political situation of the immediate present, given President Donald Trump’s multiple executive orders banning travel to the US for persons hailing from 6 or 7 predominately Muslim nations, as well as anti-immigrant campaigns, inter alia, fueling the United Kingdom’s resolution to exit the European Union. With a refugee crisis unfolding around the Mediterranean due to the protracted conflict in Syria, Iraq, and Yemen, one would be tempted to confirm, along with Agamben, that the figures of the refugee and the space of the camp are indeed crucial ciphers for our biopolitical modernity, shedding light on the deeper contradictions of the nation-state form and revealing the constitutive inadequacy of any political system which takes an unqualified notion of life as its fundamental center.

Yet Agamben’s political project has been consistently lambasted over the years for being bereft of any real efficacy or, in some fashion, being unable to develop a concrete political line. Essentially, the reason for these attacks comes down to a question of historical and critical methodology. Agamben openly and frequently admits his philosophical debt to the writings of Michel Foucault and, as such, his texts typically take the form of meticulous genealogies that reach far back into history in order to flesh out the structural conditions of the present. However, Agamben’s genealogical work often exudes a more esoteric inflection than that of his French predecessor, containing lengthy examinations devoted to long forgotten theoretical relics from antiquity and the middle ages. Moreover, the various objects and conceptual fields of Agamben’s genealogies, namely notions deriving from patristics and early Christian theology, have struck much of his critical readership as being somewhat peculiar if not an obscurantist red-herring that strays decidedly from the concrete possibility of political action.

Among the more acerbic complaints leveled at Agamben’s methodology include the charge of practical impotency, or outright quietism, as well as the ubiquitous claim about the purportedly “ontologizing” nature of his method which forecloses the necessary passage from thought to action. To take but one salient example, Jacques Rancière asserts that Agamben’s method consists of a series of reductive conflations whereby “politics gets equated with power and power itself gets increasingly construed as an overwhelming historico-ontological destiny from which only a God can save us” (2010: 67). Rancière is here of course alluding to Heidegger’s posthumously published Spiegel interview, entitled in English “Only a God Can Save Us.” Not unlike the accusations of Slavoj Zizek and Alain Badiou, Rancière aligns Agamben’s method with Heidegger’s destinal thought of history qua the epochal sending of being. Hence, a methodological affinity with Heidegger becomes the chief evidence according to which Agamben’s project ought to be read in staunch opposition to the Marxist and revolutionary traditions.

The recently published volume entitled Agamben and Radical Politics, masterfully edited by Daniel McLoughlin, confronts and engages with such polemics against Agamben’s work, bringing his thought into conversation with various Marxist and post-Marxist strands of political theory and examining these connections with respect to a number of crucial themes central to this revolutionary tradition: history, production, the community, the status of property and the relation between theory and praxis. The book provides a helpful editor’s introduction that situates the various essays in relation to the central themes of Agamben’s work and to the variegated intellectual topography of contemporary political theory. The volume subsequently offers 11 separately authored chapters, including a newly translated contribution by Agamben himself entitled “Capitalism as Religion.”

The introduction describes an important sea-change in the coordinates of critical theory that has taken place in the last 15 years. A shift has occurred that widens the discussion from a singular emphasis on the post-9/11 politics of security and debates focused of the status of sovereignty to include a marked concern for the economic reconfigurations of neoliberalism in the wake of the 2008 financial collapse. As McLoughlin explains “while the politics of emergency and the problem of state violence remain crucial within the current conjuncture, it is clearer than ever that these need to be theorized in the context of the economic and social relations of contemporary capitalism” (2) The various essays in this collection thus foreground how a pivot in Agamben’s own conceptual emphasis parallels this broader reorientation within critical theory and show how he attempts to further elaborate his critique of biopolitics and sovereignty in terms of more economic and practical motifs, especially in the recently translated The Kingdom and the Glory, Opus Dei, and The Highest Poverty. All of these works continue the Homo Sacer project by performing genealogical investigations into various other elements that make up the deeper historical architecture of the present. Without a doubt, The Kingdom and the Glory stands out as the most significant of these recent additions and traces two contradictory yet functionally related paradigms:

political theology, which founds the transcendence of sovereign power on the single God, and economic theology, which replaces this transcendence with the idea of an oikonomia, conceived as an immanent ordering—domestic and not political in a strict sense—of both divine and human life. Political philosophy and the modern theory of sovereignty derive from the first paradigm; modern biopolitics up to the current triumph of economy and government over every other aspect of social life derive from the second paradigm (Agamben, 2011: 1).

Simone Bignall’s essay, “On Property and the Philosophy of Poverty: Agamben and Anarchism,” interprets Agamben’s recent work through the optic of the methodological tensions between anarchism and communism. Reactivating the debates dividing the First International of 1864-1876, Agamben’s distance from a historical materialist outlook ought to be understood, as Bignall argues, in terms of his proximity to a variety anarchism inspired by Proudhon. Central to the First International was the question of historical causality and thus of the nature of revolutionary change itself. According to Bignall’s interpretation, Agamben’s theory of social transformation entails the dissolution of structure rather than the primacy of class struggle, extending the anarchist critique of property to the level of social ontology. Instead of inaugurating a global shift from private to communal property as in certain Marxist accounts of revolution, Agamben’s model suggests a praxis of disarticulation and recomposition that entirely repudiates the related categories of property and appropriative use. Bignall observes an ontological coincidence between the inoperative inflection of such anarchic praxis and the essential groundlessness of the Occidental machine of sovereign transcendence and oikonomia investigated in the The Kingdom and the Glory. The key to understanding this enigmatic praxis lies in a gesture that attempts to reclaim inoperativity for thought, wrestling it away from its capture within this bi-polar apparatus whose empty center it paradoxically constitutes.

Not all of the essays in this collection represent a defense of Agamben’s work. Jessica Whyte’s essay, “‘Man Produces Universally’: Praxis and Production in Agamben and Marx,” in fact challenges Agamben’s political theology in The Kingdom and the Glory from an Althusserian perspective. She begins by highlighting Agamben’s curt dismissal of Marx wherein the former indicts the latter for secularizing a Christian philosophy of history and thus of performing an uncritical substitution of human praxis—human labor power—for the activity of God’s providential administration. Whyte further contends that Agamben’s emphasis on the concept of the will problematizes his charge of secularization and thus compromises the critical purchase his politico-theological genealogy of the modern economy. A genetic slippage occurs in the historical account of economic modes of production and the conceptual algebra of their transformations: “Agamben’s deconstruction of the metaphysics of will inherited from Christianity tends to conflate the paradigmatic figure of the slave of the Aristotelian oikos, who is subject directly to the master’s will, with the contemporary laborer in a capitalist economy” (85). In neglecting historical differentiation in accounting for the mode and the relations of production, Agamben conflates the ancient mode of production with that of modern capitalism.

Agamben himself demonstrates how the modern concept of will arises within Trinitarian theology whenever God’s transcendence becomes distinct from the immanent activity of his providential administration (oikonomia). Following this observation, Whyte indicates how a Young Marx relies mutatis mutandis on this concept of the will in conceiving of the alienation of labor as analogous to Feuerbach’s account of religious alienation. As the Althusserian story goes, Marx realizes that distilling humanity’s essence from the conceptual substrate of the “will” still moves within the ambit of ideology. The more mature Marx thus had to break with humanism and with the remnants of Christian idealism still operative in the work of his fellow Young Hegelians. The secularization of Christian concepts—the very error that Agamben accuses Marx of committing—remains wholly idealist in its uncritical reliance on a hypostatized account of labor. As such, this notion of labor has not been articulated or clarified with respect to the mode and relations of production of the conjuncture. Agamben neglects, in sum, to acknowledge the epistemological break in Marx’s development and such negligence thereby undermines the legitimacy of his claims about secularization and the politico-theological transpositions purportedly subtending the elaboration of historical materialism. Although this clearly amounts to a criticism on the part of Whyte, she does so in a manner that takes Agamben’s historical methodology seriously and thus avoids the hasty, knee-jerk conclusions of certain critics who rashly construe Agamben as an Italian Heidegger lacking any relevance to those concerned with real history or engaged actual political practice.

Daniel McLoughlin’s contribution, “Liturgical Labour: Agamben on the Post-Fordist Spectacle,” turns the prism slightly on these recent works and offers a rebuttal to Whyte’s critique in claiming that Agamben does in fact offer an account of contemporary production. Concerning the evolution of Agamben’s intellectual itinerary, McLoughlin agrees to a measured extent with Whyte that the discussion of capitalism in certain early texts does not adequately consider contemporary modes of production and merely describes the alienation of human communication that occurs with the global triumph of the society of the spectacle. It is important to note that throughout Agamben’s work, Guy Debord’s concept of the spectacle indexes a massive reification of language that becomes an autonomous force subjugating all of human existence. The spectacle qua the expropriation of language, however, does not provide a way to understand how the spectacle itself became historically possible.

In response to criticisms against Agamben’s treatment of production, McLoughlin’s argues that The Kingdom and the Glory provides a theoretical articulation that accounts for the modern economy and thus for the historical emergence of the society of the spectacle. However, this account of production departs significantly from the conventional frameworks furnished by classical political economy or Marxian theories of history. McLoughlin argues that the genealogy of oikonomia and of the related practice of glorification responds to a more recent mutation of contemporary capitalism: the Post-Fordist spectacle, an epochal designation that unites Debord’s theory of the spectacle with the post-Workerist concept of immaterial labor. In the ancient and medieval world, glorification entails all of the various modes and rituals of praising, acclaiming, and lauding the power of the sovereign or of God within a strictly Christian context. Drawing from the work of Marcel Mauss on sacrifice, Agamben details how in early days of the Church and during the time of Roman imperium, the practice of glorification—the acts of praising, singing hymns, praying, or even the performance various ritualistic and liturgical acts conventionally in a public setting—actually served to maintain the reigning power’s wholly fictional and consequently vacuous presupposition of authority. Theologically speaking, this aporetic relation suggests that God only has existence in virtue of the fact that individuals actively praise him. Hence liturgy and imperial acclamation actually produce power and are, at the same time, the very activities by which individuals subject themselves to such power. McLoughlin contends that the liturgical labor of glorification corresponds in our era to the immaterial labor of Post-Fordist production: “The Post-Fordist spectacle integrates the apparatuses of production and glorification, and thereby collapses the distinction between the fetishization that arises from commodity production and the estrangement that characterizes the governmental machine” (107). The liturgical, immaterial labor of the Post-Fordist mode of production is made up of the various acclamations and linguistic rituals that reproduce the social relations of the spectacular society and, simultaneously, facilitate our own enslavement to such relations.

The category of immaterial labor construes contemporary production in terms of the various communicative, linguistic, cognitive and service oriented processes that no longer neatly fit into the traditional logic or social relations of Fordist capitalism that are typically characterized by factory based organization and industrial, assembly-line style production. This mutation, moreover, marks the blurring of the boundaries between the spheres of life and work properly speaking. As McLoughlin explains, the

Post-workerists argue that the rise of immaterial labor has made language and communication central to production and the accumulation of capital. The consequences of this transformation in production include the intensification of subjective regulation, the extension of mechanisms of biopolitical governance across the social field, the transition from the society of discipline to one of control, and the setting of the totality of life into work (105).

McLoughlin suggests that the Kingdom and Glory is not simply an illumination of the distant origins of our political institutions, but responds to the urgency of the present state of global capitalism and thus sets the stage for a potential intervention therein. To reiterate this idea with a more Marxian vocabulary, one might say that Agamben’s goal is to furnish a critical account of the material shape and relations of production within the global conjuncture in order correctly orient any possible praxis aimed at a revolutionary transformation of society as a whole. McLoughlin therefore brings to fore a highly practical intention underlying Agamben’s genealogical constructions.

As I noted above, Agamben’s historical method is a point of contention among various scholars and public intellectuals. In response to these debates, Agamben’s method becomes the focus of Justin Clemens’ powerful essay “An Alogical Space of Genetic Reintrication: Notes on an Element of Agamben’s Method.” Naturally, Clemens interrogates the influence of Foucault, another thinker with an equally tenuous relation to Marxism and revolutionary politics. Clemens insists that Agamben’s own procedure, following Foucault’s methodology but departing significantly from it, entails a paradoxical disclosure of the deeply embedded, hidden solidarity of seemingly antithetical concepts: “One of Agamben’s characteristic rhetorical techniques is to identify concepts that, having been constructed independently of one another—even, sometimes, having been constructed in opposition to one another—can be rearticulated in such a way that they come to exhibit a singular, intelligible co-dependency” (117). Historical objects are thus not chosen arbitrarily, but brought into increasingly tense proximity in light of an undisclosed solidarity.

Taking his cue from Foucault’s emphasis on discontinuity within history, Agamben’s genealogies work against the subsumption of phenomena within trans-historical structures. Agamben further endeavors, going beyond Foucault, to re-suture the discontinuities and disparate multiplicities that genealogy patiently charts out in order to unveil a covert unity of overtly antithetical positivities. This revelation—disclosing the deep background conditions of historical events—is the occasion not for a mere historical repetition but, as Clemens seems to suggest, a displacement and an overturning. Echoing Bignall’s claim about the extension of ontology into the socius and also affirming McLoughlin’s insight about the interventionist motivations behind The Kingdom and the Glory, Clemens’ methodological reconstruction rejoins Rancière’s charge of practical impotency against Agamben’s supposedly ontological vision of history. Although still in the register of ontology, as Clemens maintains, Agamben’s genealogies expose the framework that in fact renders the present intelligible as such and thus sets the stage for a practical intervention aimed at radically reconfiguring its fundamental conditions. Ontology no longer signals the deterministic weight of destiny, but becomes a more precise historical lens through which politics might bring into focus the proper object and specific domain of its practical activity.

In many ways, Clemens is affirming Agamben’s connection to the work of Heidegger, however with the significant (Foucauldian) caveat that the field of ontology ceases to index a sphere of immutable substance that might stultify the merely ontic possibility of praxis and, instead, becomes a more profound tool to render fully intelligible the historical structure of the present. In this regard, what additionally comes out of Clemens’ contribution is the fact that the category of the ontological has an entirely different valence in Agamben’s work in distinction from Heidegger and even Foucault. Clemens unfortunately does not explicitly spell out the precise nature of the relation between ontology and history as it stands for any one of these three thinkers, but nonetheless offers tantalizing and insightful signposts for further philosophical inquiry.

Nicholas Heron’s “Zoē aiōniōs: Giorgio Agamben and the Critique of Katechontic Time” forms a bridge from these dense discussions of oikonomia to a broader engagement with Agamben’s considerations of the notion of life and derivative forms of community. Heron constructs his own intricate genealogy of the concept of aiōn (eternity) that traces it from its ancient Greek origins up to its eschatological transformation in the work of St. Augustine. Agamben’s project is shown to perform a critique of katechontic time, the time of an abandonment of concrete eschatology and of an infinite messianic deferral that concomitantly legitimates the Church’s secular authority on earth. Framing his project in terms of a critique of katechontic time provides an informative politico-theological context for understanding Agamben’s retrieval in St. Paul’s epistles of a conception of eternal life differing from the one suggested by traditional Christianity. This Pauline vision of life upends the katechontic deactivation in favor of a concrete messianism of “now time” (kairos) that renders transparent the act which constructs time itself. Heron aptly clarifies Agamben’s thought in showing how the kairological concept of time appears as a living enactment that relays the construction of secular time (chronos) with eternity (aiōn) rather than construing it as the always-receding telos of linear chronology. Heron thus reveals how Agamben rethinks the concept of life and how such a conceptual re-elaboration might fit into a broader historical schema with respect to political praxis. In distinction from Clemens and McLoughlin’s emphasis on interventionism, Heron forms a different constellation between the concepts of history, politics, and messianic praxis which denotes a minute yet global transformation of life in the intense immediacy of the present.

The remaining essays included in this collection examine Agamben’s concept of life, further exploring his critique of biopolitics and the related notion of a “form-of-life.” A novel form-of-life (with its obligatory hyphens) is a persistent theme in Agamben’s work and has, like many of his other concepts, taken on a more defined set of characteristics in recent years. The tenuous relation of a new praxis of life to the status of the community comes under skillful examination in Steven DeCaroli’s “What Is a Form-of-Life?: Giorgio Agamben and the Practice of Poverty,” in Jason E. Smith’s “Homo Sacer and Operaismo” and, most significantly, in Miguel Vatter’s “Agamben, Poverty and Papal Legal Revolution.”  Vatter remains skeptical of Agamben’s attempts to rethink the practice of life as an unsubordinated form-of-life and enlists F. W. Maitland, a historian of jurisprudence, to elucidate the concepts of the “trust” and the “unincorporated body” as viable principles of communal solidarity unburdened from the problematic exigencies of the law and appropriative use. Generally speaking, all of these final essays powerfully demonstrate, in various ways and with respect to different traditions, how Agamben’s theoretical enterprise essays to articulate a different mode of living and a veritable praxis of poverty which at once avoids being captured by the law and enacts a communal being beyond the teleological constraints of property, propriety, and ownership.

Agamben and Radical Politics takes many important steps toward dispelling once and for all the illusions regarding his philosophy’s capacity to address the problematic terrain of contemporary politics. This collection makes quite clear how the dismissive grievances against Agamben’s work are generally uncritical—grounded in cursory interpretations which often exclude consideration of recent theoretical developments—and thus are largely responsible for forestalling an Agambenian overhaul of our political principles and strategies. One tangible downside to this collection is that it does not take enough time to work out precisely such a concrete and praxis-oriented profile of Agamben’s thought. The paradoxical praxis of poverty or a newly envisioned form-of-life are only infrequently given historical exemplification or sufficiently colored in with reference to the reality of ongoing political struggles.

To return briefly to the discussion with which this review began, it is important to observe how the apparent shift in Agamben’s emphasis toward more economic themes highlighted in McLoughlin’s introduction seems to additionally constitute an unwitting turning away from the more practical themes and figures in Agamben’s earlier work that have a significant import for contemporary politics. In terms of over-arching tendencies in these essays, a great deal of effort is expended defending Agamben from criticism on the formal and methodological level or demonstrating his proximity to certain theoretical elements in the Marxist tradition. This preoccupation at times ends up hindering a passage into a discussion of what Agambenian praxis would truly look like or how it would function with respect to actual political realities. The figure of the refugee, for instance, not only confirms Agamben’s general thesis about the relationship between biopolitics and sovereignty, but, in a more practical register, provides a measure by which the contradictions of our global political system—most significantly the polarizing opposition in our current liberal democratic framework between reactionary identity politics and populist xenophobia—might be rendered transparent.

Furthermore, both of the aforementioned categories of the camp and the refugee potentially connect Agamben’s thought to debates about space, radical geography and decolonial resistance. The status of colonial space in relation to the state of exception, a connection explicitly addressed by thinkers such as Achille Mbembe, is a question that ought to enter into any consideration of the relation between Agamben and radical politics. As the long 20th century has taught us—seeing countless and still ongoing struggles against colonialism as well as geographically specific resistance movements from the Négritude poets to the Zapatistas—only a spatially and geographically informed theoretical apparatus can hope to challenge the forces of global capital in a truly radical way that might in fact do justice to the long and agonizing history of colonized peoples and their struggles.

Despite these very minor deficiencies, Agamben and Radical Politics represents an important and well-executed effort in the field of political theory and deserves praise for its relevance and political timeliness regardless of the inherent untimeliness that generally characterizes Agamben’s thought. The collection is, moreover, skillfully organized on a thematic level and the majority of the contributors present their arguments in such a way as to make them accessible even to readers unfamiliar with the inner workings of Agamben’s philosophical corpus. In the face of growing contemporary challenges, Agamben and Radical Politics endeavors to set the stage for a possible reconfiguration of the conceptual foundation of our institutions and prevailing paradigms. This reorientation is essential for the urgent cultivation new modes and practices of resistance to the global hegemony and ceaseless violence of our current economic and political order.



Agamben G (1998) Homo Sacer: Sovereign Power and Bare Life. Heller-Roazen D (trans). Stanford, Stanford University Press.

Agamben G (2000) Beyond Human Rights. In: Binetti V and Casarino C (trans) Means without End: Notes on Politics. Minneapolis, University of Minnesota Press, pp. 15-26.

Agamben G (2011) The Kingdom and the Glory: For a Theological Genealogy of Economy and Government. Chiesa L and Mandarini M (trans). Stanford, Stanford University Press.

McLoughlin D (ed) (2016) Agamben and Radical Politics. Edinburgh, Edinburgh University Press.

Rancière J (2010) Who is the Subject of the Rights of Man? In: Corcoran S (trans) Dissensus: On Politics and Aesthetics. New York, Continuum, pp. 62-76.

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Jared C. Bly Jared C Bly is a translator and PhD student in philosophy at Villanova University. Aside from researching topics concerning Marxism and radical geography, he is preparing a dissertation on the politics of images primarily through the work of Gilles Deleuze and Walter Benjamin. His most recent translation of Patrick Vauday’s The Invention of the Visible: The Image in Light of the Arts will be available in August via the Reinventing Critical Theory series published by Rowman & Littlefield International.