The Orders of the Night, 1996, by Anselm Kiefer. Photograph: Seattle Art Museum
One of the curious ways we seem to have begun to speak during this pandemic is of 鈥渇reedoms鈥 (plural). Our freedoms, we are told, and tell ourselves, will return when things are able to get back to normal, when the 鈥渧accinated economy鈥 is up and running. Opt in for freedoms, or freely opt out for unfreedom. Freedoms here seem to be articulated as discrete possibilities for action. The possibility of going to the pub, the possibility of going for a hike, the possibility of visiting friends, etc., are all distinct 鈥渇reedoms鈥 we long to return to, and are given if we opt in.
Language often adapts to circumstance, it bends and shifts contingent upon the situation it is attending to. This shift, which pluralises freedom in order to break political freedoms up into discrete moments, however, seems to me to be an odd one. Freedom, determined in this way鈥攁s a set of discrete possibilities鈥攂ecomes something only real insofar as it maps into already existing options. It is able to be managed, withdrawn, shaped, disciplined, encased. At what point are you, then, free? Are you free when the state allows you the full gamut of opportunities the 鈥渧accinated economy鈥 has to offer? Are you free when the state has the capacity to provision the economy with space within which to operate?
We are in a period in our history where the state not only has the responsibility to manage the health of the population, but the very health of the population is directly bound to economic competitiveness and success. This is what political theorists have come to call biopolitics: the power of the state to make live. Where classically the sovereign was the one with the power to take life, under biopolitical conditions the sovereign makes live.
This making live is not value neutral. The historian Adam Tooze has articulated very clearly in his new book Shutdown that very early in the pandemic there were cost-benefit analyses done on the effects of shutting down the economy vs letting the virus spread through the population. Economists and policy makers determined that the potential aggregate losses were significant enough for the economy to go into a shutdown, although much of the economy was already doing this without the directives of policy makers. Shutting down was as much about the health of populations as it was about economics, the two were bound up together.
Much of the debate surrounding our discussion of getting our 鈥渇reedoms鈥 back seems to be trading upon the idea of saving lives vs saving the economy. The so-called anti-vaxer is apparently the figure who simply wants to open up, without restriction. The vaccine enthusiast is often cast as the figure who cares for the vulnerable and the health of others before their economic interests. However, what we know is that preserving the life of the population (human capital, as we are often called) and preserving the economy were always bound up together.
鈥淲e鈥檙e all in this together鈥, or 鈥渟taying apart helps us stay together鈥 seem to be making less and less of an appearance these days. These kind of slogans have worn rather thin, I鈥檇 say. Perhaps what we are seeing is that, when the goal of all of this sacrifice seems to amount to reopening a 鈥渧accinated economy鈥, and we begin to realise that our 鈥渇reedoms鈥 really were only ever ways of being in the economy, there鈥檚 an acute sense of disappointment. We may have lost an opportunity. Do, in fact, both the vaccine enthusiast and the anti-vaxer share a positive vision of whatever our 鈥渇reedoms鈥 are? Both want them back, just in different ways.
I鈥檓 not particularly interested in entering a vaccination debate. The point here is that I suspect that if we pay attention to the way our language is shifting, something of the cracks in what always and already was the case continue to show. The French philosopher Maurice Blanchot once wrote an essay titled 鈥淭he Apocalypse is Disappointing.鈥 It鈥檚 hard not to feel that way. We all felt the world come into view as a whole, we saw the dramatic inequalities, we saw the ways we are denigrating the natural world, as well as the blowback from that denigration. The complexities of the movements of global capital, flows of goods and persons, came into view in an unprecedented way. It鈥檚 hard not to feel that vantage point is being squandered, as we settle for 鈥渇reedoms鈥 and all too familiar exclusions, the world again receding from view.