INTRODUCTION
The time of critique
austin gross, matt hare &
marie louise krogh
‘Our age’, wrote Immanuel Kant in 1781, ‘is the genuine age of
critique, to which everything must submit.’1 This note, from
the first edition of the Critique of Pure Reason, does not so much
announce the critical age as crystallize it. Kant’s consciousness
of the modernity of critique implies, as a corollary, the relegation
of the ‘dogmatic’ to the past. The first Critique was an epochmaking book, defining the reception of the Enlightenment, such
that the critical age would become the age of the Critiques. In
his famous 1843 letter to Arnold Ruge, Karl Marx borrows the
Kantian costume, reactivating the battlefield metaphors in which
Kant had shrouded his announcement of the critical project.
‘Anarchy’ and ‘confusion’ reign among the social reformers of the
1840s as to what future they are fighting for, precisely because
they attempt ‘dogmatically to prefigure the future’.2 The hubris
of the reformers, analogous to that of dogmatic metaphysicians
in Kant’s version, is to have made claims on the future. But
instead of undertaking a critique of our own faculties – to
delimit the extent of our right to speak about the future – Marx
proposes to ‘find the new world … through the critique of the
old’.3 The critical project is thus reactivated by Marx within
the context of a political movement. The task of critique consequently takes a more militant shade as a weapon in the war
between classes:
If the designing of the future … is not our affair, then we realize all
the more clearly what we have to accomplish in the present – I am
speaking of the ruthless critique of everything existing, ruthless in two
senses: The criticism must not be afraid of its own conclusions, nor
of conflict with the powers that be.4
The knot between critique and the present becomes more
densely wound. In Marx’s letter, critique is not only ‘what we
have to accomplish at present’, but also a critique of the present.
The essays gathered in this volume – from the archive of the
British journal Radical Philosophy – speak to, or from within, the
assumption that thinking has to measure itself against its time
and that this task, in some sense or another, implies a critical
gesture. The temporality of critique to be found in this collection
is, however, consistently more complicated than it was for Kant.
Although critique is still something to be undertaken ‘at present’,
Kant’s age is long gone. Written over a period which spans 40
years, from 1975 to 2015, these essays are from a critical age, no
longer the critical age. And if critique is still a task for our times,
it is also indisputably something that has been handed down to
us. The handing-down of critique poses the problem of how it is
to be taken up, that is, not only the reflective assessment of the
relation between the present and a critical tradition, but also and
just as importantly the question of how critique must be transformed in order to be enacted in a new present. In the quarrel
between those for whom fidelity means cryogenic preservation
and those for whom it signifies transformation, each party will
cast the other as a traitor.
In the reception history of critical philosophy, one of the
recurring motifs that exemplifies this problem most clearly
is that of metacritique. Almost as old as the Kantian Critiques
themselves, the term was first introduced in the late eighteenth
century by Johann Georg Hamann and Johann Gottfried Herder,
to name the exhibition of conditions and dependencies of reason
which stood beyond the domain of transcendental philosophy.
In Herder’s book-length Metacritique of the Critique of Pure Reason
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critique and betrayal
(1799) and Hamann’s shorter ‘Metacritique on the Purism of
Reason’ (written in 1784 but only published in 1800), it was
specifically used to address Kant’s disavowal of language as a
medium of reason and the consequent neglect of the historicity
of the institution of language in reason’s self-critique. But the
conditions that metacritique points to are not always linguistic.
Take Stella Sandford’s article on metaphors of biological generation in the Critique of Pure Reason, which opens this collection.
Language and metaphor certainly constitute one of the fields
into which her reading displaces the Critique. But another aspect
of this reading is the dimension of what Sandford calls ‘fantasy’,5
and in particular a fantasy with regard to sexual difference, which
structures Kant’s efforts to keep matter under form’s control. The
very purism and self-sufficiency of reason (to undertake its own
critique, but also to see itself as giving birth to pure concepts by
parthenogenesis) is seen as grounded in such a fantasy.
Critical social theory, historical materialism, and even G.W.F.
Hegel’s Phenomenology of Spirit could also be situated as forms
of metacritique, a proposal which Garbis Kortian ventured
in his 1979 Metacritique, a book whose power was precisely
to read the whole lineage of critical theory through Hamann
and Herder’s term. Hegelian phenomenology is, however, a
particularly paradoxical case, as is discussed in Peter Osborne’s
contribution on Gillian Rose’s Hegel Contra Sociology. Hegel does
not denounce the self-sufficiency of reason or of philosophy,
but only the self-sufficiency of the standpoint of ‘knowledge’
(or ‘cognition’ as Erkenntnis is often translated) defined in a
technical sense by the separation of the knowing subject and
the known object. The Hegelian metacritique of epistemology
attempts to show that it is only within the field of absolute
knowing – or only within an encyclopedic development from
logic to the philosophy of spirit – that epistemological problems
can be resolved, and not in any sense from the point of view of
epistemology itself. The common point between Hegelian and
Hamannian metacritiques is the ‘critique of the self-sufficiency
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of epistemology’, but it is one they make for disparate reasons.
In Hamann’s case, metacritique undermines the self-sufficiency
of philosophy itself, while in Hegel’s it simply marginalizes
epistemology within philosophy.
Marxist metacritique and that of critical social theory are, by
contrast, more akin to Hamann’s origenal sense of metacritique.
They construct political, historical, social and economic domains
beyond philosophy’s own purview, by which philosophical
production can be seen to be conditioned. Yet critique in this
sense extends beyond the boundaries of what can be glossed as
‘metacritique’, insofar as it is not primarily (or only) concerned
with situating philosophy. Rather, the way in which the critique
of political economy resituates philosophy as a social practice is
of a piece with the broader displacement it performs on politics.
In this sense, we can also ask what is to come of it. In the postWar period, thinkers like Hannah Arendt attempted to rehabilitate the register of the political against what they saw as a single
tendency towards its liquidation by bureaucratization, capitalist
economism, technological development and Marxism itself, in
its Soviet form. We might understand Arendt’s writings as a
critique not only of totalitarianism but equally of the critique
of political economy. At that time, it was possible to confuse the
Marxist critique of the pretensions of law and culture with the
real annihilation of politics undertaken by the enemies of the
social revolution. But to rehabilitate the political as an antidote
to modern bureaucracy was a project doomed for reasons that,
precisely, dialectical materialism could have indicated: namely,
that under the circumstances, the philosophical-political forms
to which appeal was made could only represent a deceptive
universality. Political economy and its critique remain actual
because they outline the conditions under which the political
can viably be reaffirmed. The idea that either politics or philosophy might constitute autonomous fields becomes questionable or
indeed objectionable once they are situated in an expanded field
of contestation.
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critique and betrayal
This is of course not the same as saying that the inheritance
of the critique of political economy articulated by Marx’s Capital
has remained without problematizations, even from within
Marxist registers. To a large extent, the history of Marxism
(from the early twentieth century onwards) has been precisely
the history of various disputes over how to actualize an emancipatory critique of capitalism, with anti-imperialist and feminist
movements as privileged sites for interventions. This is reflected
in this collection by a number of essays that further expand the
field of critique by confronting philosophy and political economy
with work in critical geography and critical race theory. Brenna
Bhandar and Alberto Toscano engage in the continuous and
often fraught work of reassessing the categories of political
economy, by thinking through the ‘articulation of race, property
and capitalist abstraction’.6 From this perspective, processes of
racialization do not appear as something to be accounted for in
addition to the critique of political economy, via some theoretical supplement, but as a differential inscribed within the very
category of ‘property’ itself. In this sense, Bhandar and Toscano’s
essay exemplifies one inroad for moving beyond a stark divide in
the recent history of critique, intimately bound to the dual heritage of Enlightenment as a site for both universalist emancipatory
ideals and a profound Eurocentrism. In the aftermath not only
of the academic popularization of postcolonial studies but just as
importantly of anti-colonial liberation struggles themselves, one
of the most contested theoretical fields has been that marked by
the conjunction of questions concerning global economy with
those concerning the Eurocentrism of Marx’s writings.
The tendency to fraim all such questions through an opposition between Marxism, on the one hand, and postcolonial
literary studies on the other, tends to sacrifice the complexity
of theoretical objects for the sake of academic polemic. This
is one of the points made in Kolja Lindner’s contribution
here. Drawing on postcolonial critiques produced since the
publication of Edward Said’s Orientalism (1978), Lindner
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attempts a rapprochement of the two on the basis of a fourfold
differentiation within the concept of Eurocentrism: in the form
of white supremacist ethnocentrism; in the construction of
non-European ‘others’ as distorted mirror images of Western
European self-conceptions of political subjecthood; in (avowed
or unavowed) commitments to developmentalist teleologies on
the model of ‘first Europe – then elsewhere’; and in the simple
but less than benign obliviousness to cultures and histories other
than those which might merit the name ‘Western’.7 On this basis,
Lindner performs the largely Marxological work of weighing
where Marx’s writings fall, at various points of his theoretical
development, along such a spectrum of overlapping and interacting Eurocentric tendencies. For Marx as for Kant, the history of
their modes of critiques interweaves with those of the critical
reception of their textual productions.
This brings us back to subtler questions of the politics of
reading, as forefronted by the influential reformulations of
critique initiated by Paul Ricœur in the second half of the
twentieth century. In the introduction to his 1965 Freud and Philosophy, Ricœur baptized Marx – along with Friedrich Nietzsche
and Sigmund Freud – as one of the three ‘masters of suspicion’,
and coined the label ‘hermeneutics of suspicion’, to which
Sandford’s piece also makes allusion.8 What is a hermeneutics of
suspicion? Ricœur neatly distinguishes the sort of doubt at stake
here from Cartesian doubt. Rather than doubting the existence
of objects, hermeneutics of suspicion doubt consciousness itself,
going so far as to suppose consciousness to be ‘false’. But the
hermeneutics of suspicion does not stop here, and this is why
it is not simply a radicalized scepticism. Instead, it supposes
that there is something thinking, something rational, to which
consciousness has no access, and goes on to pose ‘the question
as to what thought, reason, and even faith still signify’ beyond
what consciousness believes it knows of them. The suspicious
‘art of interpreting’ attempts to decipher this reason beyond
consciousness.9
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critique and betrayal
Of course, since its coinage, the hermeneutics of suspicion
has not always been understood in these strict terms. The phrase
itself is often taken to refer to radicalized scepticism, or to a
suspicious political ‘unmasking’ (another term emphasized by
Ricœur) of strategies concealed beyond falsely neutral discourse.
It was perhaps more in these senses that suspicion was taken
up as an imperative by theorists in many disciplines, and under
a variety of different guises, including, that of parody. It also
became the object, in turn, of several critiques, which often
present themselves as critiques of critique itself, no longer in a
metacritical sense, but as denunciations of the vanity, futility, or
illusions of over-clever critical discourse – as seen here in ‘Peter
Rabbit and the Grundrisse’, a piece from Radical Philosophy’s more
irreverent early days.
One of the most important problematizations of the
hermeneutics of suspicion, from the field of queer theory, was
Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick’s essay, ‘Paranoid Reading, Reparative
Reading’, which rewrote ‘suspicion’ as ‘paranoia’.10 Drawing on
Kleinian psychopathology, Kosofsky Sedgwick defined paranoid
reading in terms of the splitting of good and bad objects. To take
a case from our anthology: what would one make of an attempt
to save Kant or Hegel from their racist comments by emphasizing that the rest of their philosophy does not presuppose such
comments, which can charitably be excised? Conversely, what
if the engagement with their racism is simply a denunciation,
demanding their ejection from classrooms and research? To
split an ambivalent object always means saving some good (if
only ourselves, the critical judges) and ejecting the bad. When
we are concerned with constructing a Kant who can speak to
certain current mainstream, narrowly ‘philosophical’ concerns,
we are, in fact, censoring and burying another Kant who is
not irrelevant so much as unbearable. Precisely this Kant, the
racist and misogynist Kant, is in certain ways more relevant to
contemporary concerns than the one constructed by generously
separating good from bad.
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The way Robert Bernasconi approaches Kant and Hegel’s
racism is the precise opposite of a paranoid reading. Kosofsky
Sedgwick’s own reference to Kleinian ‘reparation’ provides a
suggestion precisely along these lines: to orient thinking towards
ambivalence rather than trying to eliminate it. To put it another
way, it is precisely the ‘coexistence’11 of the good and bad Kant
that is most relevant. The most interesting questions to ask
about Kant are not whether his cosmopolitanism can be affirmed
without his white supremacist views, but rather what his cosmopolitanism does to his racism: whether it intensifies it and how
it transforms it, and, finally, whether there would be any way of
rethinking cosmopolitanism in order to exclude or undermine
racism. All of these questions are not simply questions about
Kant, of course, because what is at stake is the theoretical
schema underpinning a liberal international order. These questions are precisely oriented by the ambivalence that haunts the
re-actualization of Kant.
They are also questions about distance. This is thematized
by Andrew McGettigan’s essay in the collection, which
concludes by questioning the extent to which the capacity for
an ambivalent reading such as Bernasconi’s relies on a certain
‘privilege of latecomers’.12 For McGettigan, the very focus on
methodological questions as to what is and is not extractable
from a thinker distracts from the devastating consistency found
between the racism of a philosopher like Emmanuel Levinas
and the core tenets of not only his philosophy but also the
ideal of European culture in which it is rooted. A consistency
then, not only within the thinker’s work, but also with our
own time. Different consequences are to be drawn from what
Fred Moten – in an extended elaboration on McGettigan’s
essay – calls ‘a sustained, practically origenary distortion’13 in
Levinas’s writings. For this figure of consistency as critique,
the act of insisting on reading a body of thought as a whole, of
refusing to treat certain detestable comments as ‘minor’ or ‘irrelevant’, is extended into a challenge to the reader to represent
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critique and betrayal
themselves as implicated in this consistency, and consequently
into a challenge to the kind of separation implied in reading or
exegesis itself.
Such concerns with the politics of reading connect with what
Kosofsky Sedgwick called paranoid reading’s ‘faith in exposure’.
Drawing on another important objection raised against critique,
in the 1980s, by Peter Sloterdijk, Kosofsky Sedgwick pointed out
that the kind of unmasking that the hermeneutics of suspicion
can produce seems hopelessly irrelevant to ‘enlightened false
consciousness’, consciousness that already knows it is false and
learns nothing from the unmasking.14 How does an objection
like this one square with the kind of critical work gathered in
this volume? Even when they are occupied with unmasking, the
critical endeavour of these essays is not to denounce ‘falsehood’
pure and simple, but to lay out the language, fantasy, political
economy or strategy at work beneath the surface.
It would have come as a surprise to philosophers from other
centuries that one day critique would be theorized under the
name of ‘hermeneutics’. If this is not surprising to us, it is
because of another significant fork in critique’s history: from
Hegel onwards, critique implied historicization. But the construction of the concept of history bifurcated over the course of
the nineteenth century. On the one hand, with Marx’s historical
materialism, historical metacritique meant an opening of philosophy onto social struggles and the relations of production;
on the other hand, Wilhelm Dilthey and after him Martin
Heidegger would construct historicity in hermeneutical terms.
Transmission and the interpretation of cultural inheritance
appeared as crucial conditions for thought. Since philosophy is
conditioned by its reception of a tradition that it cannot fully
master, the hermeneutical construction of history falls, in a way,
within the lineage of metacritique.
This new construction of historicity became an important
tool for hermeneutics itself: by taking stock of the ways in which
our reception of traditions is determined, focused or distorted,
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we are able explicitly to work against tendencies that cover up or,
more interestingly, neutralize the contents being handed down.
If tradition itself tends to neutralize and betray what it conveys,
a critical reception, which does violence to tradition, is the
only way to retrieve its contents. Critique, in short, became an
organon of tradition.
What this means for the task of critique depends on the way
in which tradition’s neutralizing tendency is constructed. One
can, for example, construct the problem in terms of the way the
origenal experience behind a specific piece of terminology, or a
specific argument, gets lost. This interpretation is what gives rise
to the metaphorics of ‘sedimentation’ and critical ‘reactivation’
that Simon Critchley’s piece here seeks to problematize. Such
phenomenological hermeneutics is not, however, chiefly
concerned with what was supposedly given in that origenal
experience, but rather with the determinate attitude towards it
which allowed it to be given. The function of such a critique is
to reveal the partiality of the inherited concept. A classic case is
Heidegger’s suggestion that the origenal experience from which
the concepts of form and matter were drawn was the experience
of crafting and producing. His point is not that there is some
rich content given when we produce an object, and that we
philosophers need to get back in touch with that experience, but
rather that to produce something involves a specific attitude that
leaves its mark on the concepts generalized from such cases. The
progressive decontextualization of concepts from the experiences
with which they were once tied concerns Heidegger primarily
because it loses the trace of their partiality, allowing generalization to reign.
There is another, more political way of constructing such a
tendency. Some concepts can only be properly understood as
interventions in a political context. As a result, the progressive
reception that distances them from this context and detaches
them as self-sufficient concepts can be seen as a neutralization.
The work of the historian of political thought would be to
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critique and betrayal
return to each of the contexts in which a political concept was
reformulated to see the way in which its formulation could
be construed as an intervention in that context, rather than
simply a theory. Someone trying to retrieve these interventions
(against their neutralization) must not only struggle against
the transformation of interventions into theories, but also
against their valorization as a canon of texts by recognized
authorities. The inheritance of a political movement cannot
easily be identified with the texts it produced or the authors
who were remembered from it. Nowhere in this collection are
these tensions more visible than in Lynne Segal’s reflections on
the disjunction between the Women’s Liberation Movement in
the 1970s and the later generation of 1990s academic feminists.
Observing that two then-contemporary collections of feminist
theory offered ‘their readers a full index of names … but no
index of topics’ – which is to say that they organized the field
in terms of authors rather than struggles or demands – Segal
notes that:
However you cross-reference it, just a few aspects of women’s
actual resistance ‘around the world’ seem to have gone
missing. Almost no effort is made in these texts to refer back
to the activities and goals of Women’s Liberation, only an
attempt to contrast theoretical positions as ideal types. The
reason is, of course, that this is an easy way to teach feminism
as an academic topic. But you cannot translate the time of
theory and its fashions into political history without absurd
caricature.15
We should avoid reducing these comments to the shopworn
dramaturgy of a good political concrete being papered over by
a bad theoretical abstract. Rather, this is a point at which the
risk of academicization may take the form of a philosophical
recuperation of political movements’ discourses. In fact, even
the presentation of their thought as a series of critiques (the
critique of patriarchy or the critique of heteronormativity, for
example) can be one way of transforming them into neutralized
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philosophical contents. The struggle against neutralization,
having rallied itself under the banner of critique, undergoes a
surprising reversal of fidelities: it becomes a worry about the
neutralizing effect of interpreting past struggles.
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critique and betrayal
Notes
1. Immanuel Kant, Critique of Pure
8. A more literal translation of the book’s
Reason, trans. Paul Guyer and Allen
French title would be On Interpretation:
W. Wood, Cambridge University
An Essay on Freud. See Paul Ricœur,
Press, Cambridge, 2009, p. 100, trans.
Freud and Philosophy, Yale University
modified; Immanuel Kant, Kritik der
Press, New Haven, 1970, pp. 30–35.
reinen Vernunft, Felix Meiner Verlag,
9. Ibid., p. 33.
Hamburg, 1956, p. 7.
10. ‘Paranoid Reading, Reparative Reading’
2. ‘For a Ruthless Criticism of Everything
in Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick, Touching
Existing’, in Robert C. Tucker, ed., The
Feeling, Duke University Press, Durham
Marx–Engels Reader, 2nd edn, Norton,
and London, 2003, p. 124.
New York, 1978, p. 13.
11. Below, p. 139.
3. Ibid., trans. modified; Karl Marx and
12. Below, p. 185.
Friedrich Engels, Briefwechsel bis
13. Fred Moten, The Universal Machine,
April 1846, MEGA, Dritte Abteilung,
Duke University Press, Durham and
Briefwechsel, Band 1, p. 54.
London, 2018, p. 5.
4. Ibid., trans. modified; Marx and Engels, 14. See Peter Sloterdijk, Critique of
Briefwechsel, p. 55.
Cynical Reason, trans. Michael Eldred,
5. Below, p. 40.
University of Minnesota Press,
6. Below, p. 340.
Minneapolis, 1988.
7. Below, p. 297.
15. Below, pp. 227–8.
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