Chapter Eight
The Generalized Enemy
In the Spring of 1972 the staff of Esprit organized a round table with Michel Foucault about the role of social workers in France’s then new urban public housing, the multi-family apartment buildings the government was building for the dangerous classes -- thus creating neighborhoods similar to those that in the USA are called “the projects.” (Foucault 1972A) An architect on the panel, identified as P. Virilio, remarked: “One could say that one passes through three stages: the self-regulation of primitive societies, the regulation of our societies, and now we are heading toward a species of dérégulation, through the urbanization you just talked about, which is itself a new phenomenon because one speaks today of global cities.” (Id. p. 331) Virilio and others observe that the time is coming, if not already here, when the marginals, le plèbe non prolétarienne, will be the majority. I would like to comment first on Viriolo’s suggested three stages, and then on Foucault’s reaction to Virilio’s suggestion.
Self-regulation: In French the connection between self-regulation and rules is clear. The French word for “rule” is règle. Régulation is the fact of assuring a form that is régulier (regular), i.e. one in conformity with the règles. (Robert 2006) Without romanticizing primitive societies, one can acknowledge that in their great variety they exhibit many customary ways of patterning social relationships with rules, also known as norms. Virilio can be read as echoing those of us who say that humans are a species biologically coded to be culturally coded, capable of self-monitoring and of mutual monitoring in groups.
Regulation: Skipping over civilizations that are neither primitive nor “our societies” Virilio refers –as is clear from passages I have not quoted— especially to those European social democratic welfare states that in 1972 were already beginning the process of decline under the impact of globalization. He identifies “regulation” particularly with regulating the economy to produce full employment, with plans and industrial policies that make it possible to transfer large parts of the surplus generated by the economy to the social sector, and with administering social safety nets that provide cradle to grave security for all citizens. “Regulation” is a key word because it is the social democratic regulating of the economy that makes comprehensive social security possible.
Dérégulation: It is what Hannah Arendt in her phenomenology of contemporary society reads as a “crisis of authority.” As social democracy declines, the breach between the numbers of people who can be integrated into society through satisfying steady well-paid employment; and the numbers of people who arrive in the city, either by birth or by migration; is a widening breach. The proletariat is becoming a smaller proportion of the total population. The marginals, formerly known as the Lumpen, are becoming a larger proportion. (Foucault contributes to the round table discussion the nuance that workers who are not unemployed often voluntarily marginalize themselves, preferring a life of crime and drugs to their boring low-paid jobs.(Id. p. 338)) The result: chaos. Neither the customary norms of primitive societies nor the discipline provided by steady employment in regulated societies governs daily life in the banlieues of Paris where the dangerous classes live. The social workers are assigned the impossible task of stemming a tidal wave of social disintegration produced by urbanization and marginalization.
Foucault speaks next. The vocabulary he employs differs from Vilorio’s vocabulary as rules differ from power, and in that respect he implicitly answers Vilorio, or at least expresses a different way of talking and displays a different way of seeing; but the question Foucault directly addresses is not whether Vilorio’s three stages are valid, but instead a question raised earlier in the round table discussion by the historian J. Vuillard: whether the social worker is, in effect, a police officer. The implicit function of the social worker is, says Julliard, “de maintien de l’ordre.” (Id. p. 330)
Foucault mainly agrees with the point Julliard makes. He elaborates on it by proposing that the functions of the social worker and the functions of the police officer are subsets of a broader and more comprehensive social function that Foucault names as surveiller et corriger (surveillance and correction). Correction, in turn, has two parts: punishing and educating. Those who perform this broader social function named as surveiller et corriger include, besides social workers and police officers, priests, psychiatrists, and teachers. A recurring theme in Foucault’s thought is that in the modern world psychology and medicine have replaced religion; psychiatrists have replaced priests. What used to be called sin is now called sickness. The medieval alliance of religion and nobility has become an alliance of medicine and law. A young person whose fate it is to be born in banlieues of Paris where the plèbe non prolétarienne resides will almost inevitably end up either before a judge or before a psychiatrist. It does not greatly matter which. The function of both is surveiller et corriger. The similarities between life in prison and life in a mental hospital are greater than the differences. Nor is being in school much different from being in a jail or in an asylum. The teacher too has inherited the function of the priest of yesteryear, de maintien de l’ordre in the words of Juillard, surveiller et corriger in the words of Foucault. The significance of the proliferation of social workers in the world’s great cities, according to Foucault, is that political power has lost confidence in priests and teachers. It prefers to have agents more directly under its control.
Vilorio, as I read him, does not see the urban Lumpen through Foucault’s Nietzschean lenses, but rather through Durkheim’s Kantian lenses. The integration into society of those now marginal to it would be desirable if it could be achieved. If we could somehow revive the best of the self-regulation of primitive communities, replacing atomistic individualism with norms of reciprocity and mutual obligation, fueling cooperation and solidarity by appealing to the deepest sentiments of a species that has lived in small tribal groups of hunters and gatherers for the bulk of the time it has existed on the planet; if we could only revive the best of the regulation of social democracy, if we could revive faith in l’homme and in the universal declarations of human rights, including the now standardly accepted universal right to cultural and individual diversity, if this time around we could make economic and social democracy work, and deepen it, and thus achieve ever higher levels of inclusion and equity; then such a devoutly to be desired synthesis of primitive self-regulation and modern regulation would save us from the dérégulation that is now turning the world’s great urban conglomerations into hell on earth. I take some such proposal to bring the lost sheep back into the fold to be Vilorio’s subtext. At earlier stages of his career Foucault would have agreed with it, or at least with parts of it, or at least with parts of it suitably rephrased. In 1972 Foucault will have none of it.
In the short tumultuous years between 1969 and 1972 Foucault became a professor at the Collège de France, which meant that he would be highly paid for the rest of his life to study whatever he wanted to study and to give twelve classes every year, which would consist of reporting on his results. He also became a revolutionary. The same person who had devoted himself to refuting Jean-Paul Sartre now worked together with him. (Eribon 1989, e.g. pp. 295-7). I have to qualify what I said before: sometimes when Sartre and Foucault marched together Sartre was being a general intellectual and Foucault a specific intellectual (to use Foucault’s terms); they were doing the same things for different reasons. In 1972 it appeared for a time that there was not only practical collaboration between the two of them but also theoretical convergence. Some of also Foucault’s new ideas were published in Sartre’s journal Les Temps Modernes in a collaborative exchange with two underground Maoists, writing under pseudonyms. They were living a clandestine life because warrants had been issued for their arrest. (Foucault 1972B) Foucault reinterpreted his own past. Histoire de la Folie now became a study of the exclusion of a particular kind of oppressed person, the person stigmatized as mentally ill. It was the beginning of a general project of studying all the rejected, all the exclusions. (Foucault 1971C p. 184) Foucault appeared to accept a working definition of oppression offered by another speaker at the round table: oppression is either exploitation or surveillance or both. (Foucault 1972A, p. 338) Typically, the workers suffered exploitation, while le plèbe non prolétarienne suffered surveillance. What potentially united them in the cause of the revolution was that they were all oppressed; as were also the homosexuals, the so-called mentally ill, the students, and just about everybody.
La Naissance de la Clinique, which he had backed away from and apologized for in 1969, became by 1971 a good example of Marxist sociological analysis. (Foucault 1971) Regarding Les Mots et les Choses, Foucault came to agree with the main point Sartre had made in his critique of it: the book leaves the reader in suspense; it does not offer an account of the social practices that produced the shift from the classical to the modern episteme. (Foucault 1971A p. 162) (Foucault had already implied in the book itself, and had already stated explicitly in the preface to its English translation, that Les Mots et les Choses was not a book that tried to discern causal relationships; what was new was that now he considered this absence to be a gap that needed to be filled.) Foucault is still an anti-humanist, but whereas in 1966 toward the end of Les Mots et les Choses anti-humanism meant laughing at revolutionary projects because of the absurdity of the very idea of liberating humanity from its chains, in 1972 humanism is identified with the reformists and the social democrats, than whom nobody is more contemptible. (Foucault) In contrast, anti-humanism is the philosophy of the revolution.
After some Maoist activists, including Foucault’s intimate personal friend Daniel Defert, had suffered the realities of imprisonment, Foucault became the principal leader of an activist group, the G.I.P., Prison Information Group; it was dedicated to making the French public aware of those realities, not by speaking in the voices of the members of the G.I.P., but by bringing to the ears of the public the voices of the prisoners, and the voices of others affected by the imprisonment such as those who come to visit them in jail. Foucault had come to accept Gilles Deleuze’s principle that nobody should speak for anybody else. Every Saturday Foucault stood at the gates of a prison gathering testimony from those who went in and out. Referring to the work of the G.I.P. Foucault wrote: “We want to attack the institution just at the point where it become incarnate in an ideology so simple and fundamental as the notions of good and bad, innocence and guilt. We want to change the lived ideology through the dense institutional layers in which it is invested, crystallized, reproduced. To simplify, humanism consists of wanting to change the ideology without changing the institution; reformism of changing the institution without touching the ideological system. Revolutionary action defines itself on the contrary as simultaneously shaking the consciousness and the institution.” (Foucault 1971E, p. 231)
In May of 1971 the first brochure issued by the Prison Information Group appeared. Its title: Intolérable. On its back cover it declared: “Intolerable are:
-- the courts
-- the police
-- the hospitals, the asylums
-- the school, military service
-- the press, television
-- the State.” (Eribon 1989, p. 237)
In a 1971 interview with four French secondary school students in which Foucault played the part of the interviewer, Foucault began the interview by asking his young interviewees which form of oppression they found most intolerable: that of their parents, that of their teachers, that of the police, or that of the media. (Foucault 1971E, p. 223)
If I had been present at that interview in 1971, I could not have resisted the temptation to follow up Foucault’s question to the students with some questions for Foucault: Are you putting us on? Are you the Foucault whose nickname is “le Fuchs” (“the fox”), of whom Georges Dumèzil, who knew you better than anybody, said you were always wearing a mask and were always changing masks? (Eribon 1989, p. 13) Are you the same Michel Foucault who a decade ago in Uppsala used to dress up as a chauffeur to drive your own Jaguar with a lady friend in the back seat as if she were rich and you were poor (Id. p. 100), now playing the game of the ultra-radical more radical than all the radicals in the radical atmosphere of Paris in 1971? Michael Walzer has pointed out that many of the views expressed by Foucault in interviews in the early 1970s were absurd: “To abolish power systems is to abolish both moral and scientific categories: away with them all!” (Walzer 1986, p. 61) I am suggesting that Foucault was smart enough to have known at the time that they were absurd.
The round table convened by the editors of Esprit in 1972 posed an important question: how could the marginalized poor and the traditional proletariat become political allies? To this question, Foucault had an answer. Teach them that “power” is their common enemy. (Foucault 1972A, pp. 335-36) From Foucault’s works one might derive a somewhat different question: How can the majority consisting of the sum total of all the different kinds of people who are marginalized in one way or another become aware that it is a majority? To this somewhat different question, one might give the same answer: Teach them that “power” is their common enemy. Power is the general enemy. It is the logical basis of the alliance of all the oppressed. Foucault would be to Marx as Einstein is to Newton because resisting oppression by economic power is a subset of resisting oppression by power, as Newton’s mechanics is a subset of Einstein’s general theory.
Foucault as activist put into practice the teachings suggested by Foucault as theorist. When he wrote the Manifesto for the Prison Information Group he put as the first two sentences: “Not one of us is sure of escaping imprisonment. Today less than ever.” (Foucault 1971B, p. 174) These words embody a revolutionary strategy. Convince the masses that the cause of the marginals is their own cause. Anybody can be sent to jail. Anybody can be diagnosed as insane and confined to a mental hospital. Although one might not share the orientation of any given sexual minority, in the majority of the cases one’s own sexual practices would be considered immoral by somebody, and therefore the cause of sexual freedom is the cause of the majority.
Even before Foucault cast power in the role of general enemy, power had been groomed for the role because it had played a somewhat similar role in the past. Whatever else “power” (“le pouvoir”) denoted, power was the entity that had re-established itself by putting down the revolts in France in 1848, in 1870, and in 1940. (Foucault and Deleuze 1972, p. 308) It tended to be the word that named whatever put down popular revolts anywhere; so that if the revolt was successful one said the people won; if it failed one said power won. There are two other words that appear in the discourse of Foucault and his friends in the early 1970s that are sometimes taken to be synonyms of “le pouvoir” and used interchangeably with it. They are “le bourgeoisie” and “le capitalisme.” (e.g. Foucault 1970A, p 120; 1971C pp. 191-2; Foucault 1972A p. 336) Choosing “power” instead of one of the other two carried with it the choice of a conceptual framework.
Gilles Deleuze elaborated an anti-power conceptual framework at the level of a critique of metaphysics and epistemology. (Deleuze 1969A, 1969B) Foucault enthusiastically endorsed it. (Foucault 1970C) Traditional metaphysics, revived in a new form in the twentieth century by Martin Heidegger, had organized knowledge in categories. At the root of all the categories was the concept of being. Being was substance. Being was logos. Being was God. Traditional metaphysics drew from logic the idea that before anything could be said, there had to be a concept of what it was to be. Once such a concept was established, order, and therefore oppression was also established. Deleuze, following Nietzsche and followed by Foucault, denied that knowledge required any concept of order. Non-being, not being; diversity, not unity; difference, not sameness; was the root of the scientific concept. Thus, philosophy contributes to social equality. For example, a philosophy that puts all linguistic events on the same level, without hierarchy, implies that Black English is no better and no worse than standard American English. (Deleuze 1986, p. 15) The general enemy was power. The general philosophical strategy of the revolution was to dismantle the conceptual tools for imposing oppression that power over the centuries had fashioned. Foucault wrote in the course of praising Deleuze: “…to liberate difference, it is necessary to invent a thinking without categories.” (Foucault 1970C, p.34). Deleuze wrote in the course of praising Foucault: “Foucault’s book [he refers to L’Archéologie du Savoir] represents the most decisive step toward a theory and practice of multiplicity.” (Deleuze 1986, p. 23.)
Following consistently this line of thought, Foucault suggests that his inaugural lecture at the Collège de France was troubling, “…perhaps because I am hostile to any institution whatever.” (Foucault 1971A p. 173) It was not a matter of building continually better institutions to replace the defective and in principle improvable institutions humanity now has. It was a matter of resisting power. Since power takes the form of institutions, it was a matter of resisting institutions in general. Similarly, it was not a matter of changing the rules of a given culture in order to live life according to a better set of rules; it was a matter of breaking down the exclusions that distinguish the good people, the ones who follow the rules, from the bad people, the ones who do not. Foucault endorses whatever is transgressif (transgressive). (Foucault 1970A p. 120; Foucault 1971D p. 206) Foucault said in an interview: “Intellectuals often make an image of the working class as having the same humanist values as the bourgeoisie. But that is not true. If you look closely at the working class, you will see in the end that it is anti-law (illégaliste). It is against law, because law has always been made against it.” (Foucault 1973, p 422) Rules in general and not just any particular set of rules are to be resisted. “It is good –and here is true theater—…” to transcend the bourgeois way of life, “…in the mode of play, playfully and ironically; it is good to be dirty and bearded, to wear long hair, to look like a girl when you are a boy (and vice-versa.” (Foucault 1971C p. 193)
When asked what values he would propose to replace humanism and the existing system, Foucault once replied that humanism had to be fought with a “…cultural attack: the suppression of taboos, the suppression of limitations on sexual sharing, the practice of communitarian existence, the removal of inhibitions with respect to drugs; the break with all the interdictions and closures by which normative individuality is constituted and guided.” (Foucault 1971E, p. 227)
Although part of the rationale for Foucault’s concept of power as the general enemy was that it was a conceptual umbrella broad enough to be the ideology of an alliance among the workers, the homosexuals, other kinds of sexual minorities, the prison inmates, the students, the children, those society judges as insane, and all oppressed people, it followed from his analysis that the existing organizations of the French working class were conservative and anti-revolutionary. The labor unions were conservative. The Communist Party was conservative. (Foucault 1971C, pp. 187-88)
Indeed, it follows from Foucault’s choices about how to talk and how to see (I am talking now, not Foucault) that not only is the Communist Party conservative, but any political party is necessarily conservative. Any political party must seek votes among normal adults. We know from psychological research, from sociological research, and from common everyday experience that the majority adheres to conventional morality. It tends to defend law and order as it is constituted, however it may be constituted at any given time and place.
In just a few years the ultra-revolutionary philosophies of the early 1970s contributed to the wave of anti-Marxism that swept over Paris in the mid and late 1970s. The nouveaux philosophes quickly seized on the philosophies of non-being and “difference” as weapons to use in their fight against Marxism. They argued that Marx was the quintessential metaphysician, and they did not need to do much work to make their case, because Foucault, Deleuze, and their allies had for the most part already made their case for them. Nietzsche replaced Marx as the avant-garde philosopher. Resistance to concepts, to any concepts at all, because concepts are tools of power, became J-F Lyotard’s general incredulity toward metanarratives. The first, indeed apart from psychoanalysis virtually the only, kind of metanarrative toward which the Parisian intellectuals of the late 1970s directed their incredulity was, in the first instance and most specifically any form of Marxism; and then more broadly the generally materialist conceptions of history; which featured the expansion of markets to include large geographical areas, and indeed in the end the entire globe; that had been developed by Fernand Braudel and the mainstream of economic historians. This was the very same economic reading of history that Foucault had set out to dispute in his 1969 book, L’Archéologie du Savoir, and had combated with a proposed methodology whose key word was dispersion. A few years after 1969 the concept of power as the general enemy sows the seeds of a movement that will lead to the same result by a different path. In the anti-Marxist intellectual atmosphere of Paris in the late 1970s, Foucault would declare “I have never been a Marxist,” and would identify his own philosophy as having emerged from the one intellectual tradition in French universities that had never been allied with Marxism, that of Georges Canguilhem’s work in the history of science. (Foucault 1994, pp. 113-14)
By now the reader knows that regarding that entity called “power” that reasserts itself after popular revolts, such as those in France in 1848, 1870, and 1940; the writer holds the opinion that whatever else may explain the resilience of the status quo ante; and that he holds that similarly, in those cases where a new system replaces an ancien régime to some considerable extent, without being quickly reversed by a subsequent reaction, as in China in 1948, and more slowly but not less transformationally in the gradual social democratic evolution of the Scandinavian countries beginning in the 1930s; in both types of case, those where there is change and those where there is not change; a great part of the swelling tidal advance toward the almost inevitable, or perhaps entirely inevitable, dénouement, is to be explained by the ability or inability of one side or the other in the conflict to establish a regime of accumulation. It is not that a few capitalists magically defeat the masses who vastly outnumber them. It is not that a tiny group of revolutionaries styling itself as the vanguard of the proletariat scientifically seizes control of the lives of millions. It is not even, at least not mainly or not entirely, as Antonio Gramsci suggests, that the people voluntarily consent to their own exploitation because they have been socialized to believe heart and soul in capitalist ethics. It is rather, simply and basically, that people have to eat. The morning of September 11, 1973, in Santiago de Chile, I saw with my own eyes poor people—presumed to be the beneficiaries of socialism, and therefore, when well informed, its partisans—who had been standing in a long line to buy bread, or to try to buy bread, who, upon hearing the news that the armed forces had deposed President Allende, cheered and shouted “We’re free!” I am informed and believe, on the basis of my readings, and on the basis of my conversations with Alexander Kerensky (who was the elected premier of Russia deposed by the partisans of V.I. Lenin), as we walked together from Palo Alto to Stanford on winter mornings, that physical exhaustion from fighting World War I, which had made Russia incapable of providing the basic necessities of life for its citizens, made the masses impatient with democracy (to which they were in any event not accustomed) and ready to accept the dictatorship of those who promised to transfer all power to the soviets and to end the war immediately. In a capitalist world, or in any world whose basic cultural structure is the western one derived from Roman laws and institutions, the decisions that cause production to go forward depend to a large extent on expectations of profits. (see e.g. Keynes 1936 p. 27) Therefore it is to the interest in the short run not only of those who stand to make profits, but of all those whose welfare depends on production going forward, to establish conditions under which profits can be made; or else, as Oskar Lange says in his Economic Theory of Socialism (Lange), to replace the dynamic of capitalism quickly with another dynamic, not leaving a gap between one and the other when there is no dynamic; or else, if there is going to be a gradual transition to a new dynamic, or to a new mix of several dynamics, consisting, as John Dewey and Karl Popper advocate, a constantly evolving perfecting of mixed institutions, whose evaluation and revision is informed by research in the social sciences and regularly debated in the media and in diverse forms of citizen participation, then there must be a systematic effort to maintain and guide the old plurality of dynamics while the new plurality of dynamics is being invented and tried out – as in Otto Neurath’s image of the renewal of a wooden boat, whose planks can be replaced one at a time, but whose planks cannot be replaced all at once, because that would sink the boat. This situation –the one I have described, the one where some set of incentives and some set of rules is required to organize what Marx called the metabolism of society, its interchange of matter and energy with the environment; in other words, or to be precise in one word, its work— is not going to change because somebody “takes power.” It can only be changed by changing the rules. It can only be changed by introducing different norms which channel and guide different dynamics. Foucault was right at the beginning of Les Mots et les Choses when he suggested that society is not organized by the wills of subjects, but by its basic cultural codes. He was wrong to suppose that the codes that are basic are those he called epistemes, the ones that govern the production of knowledge.
From the foregoing, it follows that ethics runs history. The historical evolution of the institutions which form the great prison which, as Foucault says, we are all—not just the prisoners in jails—now trapped in, is the evolution of basic cultural codes. People follow the basic cultural codes, the customs of their tribes, not mainly because they are following the orders of a God, a father, a chief or king, or a psychiatrist to whom “power” has delegated the role of keeping order; but mainly because the human body is the body of a cultural animal; under normal conditions (as Jean Piaget shows) it develops into a creature that participates in groups with rules; and biology and culture have, on the whole, evolved as they have because they work. They do not work very well; they could work a lot better; they may not work many centuries more; but on the whole, they have worked. If they had not worked, our species would have become extinct. Even Gods, even fathers, even chiefs and kings, even psychiatrists, follow rules that on the whole facilitate the performance of biological functions.
But maybe I am wrong. Maybe it would be a better way to do philosophy, a better way to decide how to talk, to follow Foucault in saying that the news from biological research is all bad news for humanists; that it tends to show that human life is “…a detour to assure reproduction encore et toujours,” (Foucault 1970B p. 101), that is to say, reproduction of DNA molecules. (Id. p. 100) Maybe saying that myths organize cultures, and therefore perform biological functions as basic as those described in the Works and Days of Hesiod, such as the organization of agriculture and therefore of survival, is not good philosophy. It is not that the Foucault of the early 1970s and I disagree about the facts discovered by the biologists. It is a matter of choosing to speak a different language, to see the world through different lenses, to do social science with a different conceptual framework.
Maybe I am wrong. Maybe it is true, or warranted by the facts, or the best discursive choice all things considered, to say that ethics is nothing but politics and sex taboos; and that once one chooses liberation as one’s ethical principle regarding sex, there is nothing else for ethics to be about but politics; and that politics is about power. Perhaps the best thing to do about power is to resist it, and perhaps the best way to resist it is to transgress rules. I do not want to be unfair to Foucault. I do not even want to say I disagree with him. For two reasons. First: because he changed his mind, or at least his emphasis; what he said in 1972 was not what he said in 1984. He clarified one point in 1976: “To use terror for the revolution is in itself a totally contradictory idea.” (Foucault 1976 p. 85) In 1982 he said in a seminar at the University of Vermont that he had perhaps overemphasized domination and power. (Foucault 1982, p. 785). By 1984 he was saying things with which I could not agree more, such as that power “…should be given legal rules, techniques of management and also of morality, an ethos, a practice of self, so that the games of power can be played with a minimum of domination.” (Foucault 1984 p. 727) Second: because perhaps I have misunderstood him. What I am really interested in is solving problems, and to that end I am interested in building cultures of solidarity, in which people cooperate and share resources (not by abolishing private property but by establishing clear rules of the game that work out for everybody’s benefit). Cooperation and sharing will lead, I believe, to better solutions to problems, if only because solving the problems will be the objective. (Therefore, in principle, cooperation and sharing includes inventing cultures that play friendly competitive games in which self-interest is harnessed, as Adam Smith recommended, to facilitate cooperation.) They (the cultures of solidarity) would be diverse, each in a sustainable relationship to its environment, each held together by perpetually evolving and increasingly non-authoritarian ethics. Skeptics will say I am naïve to expect the future to be better than the past. In reply, I interpret the history of ethics in a way that is both a critique of the present and a platform not for expecting the future to be better, but for making it better. In the next chapter, I will try to make my case in the form of a commentary on one of Foucault’s favorite texts, Nietzsche’s Genealogy of Morals.
References
Gilles Deleuze, Répetition et différence. Paris: Presses Universitaries de France, 1969. (1969A)
Gilles Deleuze, Logique du sens. Paris : Minuit, 1969. (1969B)
Gilles Deleuze, Foucault. Paris: Minuit, 1986.
Didier Eribon, Michel Foucault 1926-1984. Paris: Flamarrion, 1989.
Michel Foucault, “Kyoki, Bungaku, Shakai,” interview with T. Shimizu and M. Watanabe, Bungai no. 12, December 1970, pp. 266-285. (1970A) Reprinted in French in Michel Foucault, Dits et Ēcrits. Paris: Gallimard, 1994. Volume II. Pages are cited to the latter source.
Michel Foucault, “Croître et Multiplier,” Le Monde no. 8037, 15-16 November 1970, p. 13. (1970B) Reprinted in Michel Foucault, Dits et Ēcrits. Paris: Gallimard, 1994. Volume II. Pages are cited to the latter source.
Michel Foucault, Theatrum Philosophicum. Paris: Minuit, 1970. (1970C) The page number is cited to the Spanish translation published in Madrid by Anagrama in 1995.
Michel Foucault, “Entretien avec Michel Foucault,” interview with J.G. Merquior and S.P Ruanet, a chapter in their O Homen e o Discurso. Rio de Janeiro; Tempo Brasileiro, 1971. pp. 17-42 (1971A) Reprinted in French in Michel Foucault, Dits et Ēcrits. Paris: Gallimard, 1994. Volume II. Pages are cited to the latter source.
Michel Foucault and others, “Manifeste du G.I.P.,” (1971B) Reprinted in Michel Foucault, Dits et Ēcrits. Paris: Gallimard, 1994. Volume II. Pages are cited to the latter source.
Michel Foucault, “Conversation with Michel Foucault,” interview with J.K Simon and F. Durand-Bogaert. Partisan Review. Vol 38 No. 2 pp. April-June 1971, pp. 192-201. (1971C) Reprinted in French in Michel Foucault, Dits et Ēcrits. Paris: Gallimard, 1994. Volume II. Pages are cited to the latter source.
Michel Foucault and others, “Un Probleme M’interesse Longemps,” Interview with J. Hafsia, La Presse de Tunisie. August 12, 1971, p. 3 (1971D) Reprinted in Michel Foucault, Dits et Ēcrits. Paris: Gallimard, 1994. Volume II. Pages are cited to the latter source.
Michel Foucault and others, “Par-delà la Bien et le Mal,” Interview four secondary school students, Actuel no. 14, November 1971, pp. 42-47. (1971E) Reprinted in Michel Foucault, Dits et Ēcrits. Paris: Gallimard, 1994. Volume II. Pages are cited to the latter source.
Michel Foucault and others, “Table Ronde,” in Esprit, no. 413, April-May 1972, pp. 678-703. (1972A) Reprinted in Michel Foucault, Dits et Ēcrits. Paris: Gallimard, 1994. Volume II. Pages are cited to the latter source.
Michel Foucault and others, “Sur la Justice Populaire, Débat avec les Maos,” in Les Temps Modernes, no. 310, June 1972, pp. 355-366. (1972B) Reprinted in Michel Foucault, Dits et Ēcrits. Paris: Gallimard, 1994. Volume II. Pages 340-369.
Michel Foucault and Gilles Deleuze, “Les Intellectuels et le Pouvoir” in L’Arc, no. 49, second trimester 1972, pp. 3-10. Reprinted in Michel Foucault, Dits et Ēcrits. Paris: Gallimard, 1994. Volume II.
Michel Foucault, interview with José, a Renault worker, and J-P Barrou,“ in Liberation no. 16, 26 May 1973, pp. 2-3. Reprinted in Michel Foucault, Dits et Ēcrits. Paris: Gallimard, 1994. Volume II. Pages are cited to the latter source.
Michel Foucault, interview with S. Terayama and R. Nakamura, Jyokyo April 1976 pp. 43-50, reprinted in Dits et Ēcrits. Paris: Gallimard, 2001. Volume II 1976-1988.
Michel Foucault, “Critical Theory/Intellectual History,” in Michael Kelly (ed) Critique and Power. Cambridge MA: MIT Press, 1994. (This is a reprint of the translation of an interview with Gerard Raulet in the late 1970s.)
Michel Foucault, Technologies of the Self,¨ text from a seminar at the University of Vermont October 1982. published in Technologies of the Self. A Seminar with Michel Foucault, University of Massachussetts Press, 1988. pp. 16 49. Translated into French and reprinted in Michel Foucault, Dits et Ēcrits. Paris: Gallimard, 1994. Volume IV. pp. -783 813.
(1982)
Michel Foucault, “L’Ethique du Souci de Soi Comme Pratique de la Liberté,” an interview published in Concordia, Revista Internacional de Filosofía for July-December 1984. pp. 99-106. Translated and reprinted in Michel Foucault, Dits et Ēcrits. Paris: Gallimard, 1994. Volume IV. pp. 708-729.
John Maynard Keynes, General Theory of Employment, Interest, and Money. New York: Harcourt Brace, 1936.
Le Robert de Poche. Paris: Dictionnaires Robert-Sejer, 2006.
Michael Walzer, “The Politics of Michel Foucault,” in David Hoy (ed.) Foucault: a Critical Reader. Oxford: Blackwell, 1986.
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