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# Crowds and Party
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In Theory of the Subject, a book that grew out of a seminar given from 1975 to 1979, Alain Badiou says that the Marxist tradition has given us two assessments of the Paris Commune. The first, from Marx, objectively considers the Commune in terms of the political goals of the working class with respect to the state. The proletariat has to smash the old state machinery and build new organs of political power. It has to take a place and exert force. How exactly force is concentrated, Marx neglects to explain.
The second assessment of the Commune, from Lenin, takes up this concentration. Lenin brings out the subjective aspect of force. Reading What Is to Be Done? for its “silent assessment” of the Commune, Badiou tells us that Lenin draws four consequences from the Commune’s defeat: 1.) “it is necessary to practice Marxist politics, and not some local romantic revolt;” 2.) “it is necessary to have some overall view of things … and not be fragmented into the federalism of struggles;” 3.) “it is necessary to forge an alliance with the rural masses;” and, 4.) “it is necessary to break the counter-revolution through an uninterrupted, militarily offensive, centralized process.”50 Lenin conceives the party by inferring a certain kind of subjective force from the Commune. That is to say, he reads the Commune as an effect or consequence of a political subject and builds his idea of the party from this reading. The party is an “operator of concentration” of the four consequences, “the system of practical possibility for the assessment of the Commune.” The party provides the vehicle enabling assessment of the Commune even as it is an effect of this very assessment. Or, the place from which the Commune is assessed itself results from the Commune.
Badiou uses Lacan’s notion of the Real to express the function of the Commune for Marxists. More than an historical event or political institution, the Commune serves as a concept that enables us “to think the relation of the political subject to the real.” Badiou writes, “The Marxist status of the revolutions is their having-taken-place, which is the real on the basis of which a political subject pronounces itself in the present.” Expressed in the crowd terms I’ve been developing here, the crowd rupture can be the exciting cause of a political subject, but its pronouncement or appearance as such a cause is a separate, analytically distinct move. The crowd rupture has to be politicized, tied to a subject. The crowd provides a material opportunity for the expression of a political subject, a moment that has happened and the happening of which can be attributed to the workings of this political subject. We saw this in Marx’s attribution of the Commune event to the working class.
The political subject exceeds the combination of event and interpretation. Badiou demonstrates that the Marxist approach remains incomplete. How event and interpretation are combined matters if an event is to be the cause of a subject. The Real of the Commune event consists in the crowd’s rupture with the state, both the official state and the Marxist conception of the state. Confronted with the Commune event, Marx is surprised. He has to change his thinking. Badiou writes,
It is by putting into effect a point of the impossible in this theory that it reveals its status as real, so that Marx, who logically disapproves of the triggering of the insurrection, can only encounter in it the vanishing Parisian masses. Whence the obligation, to which he remains faithful, of being wholly on the side of that of which he disapproves in theory, so as to find the new and retroactive concept of his practical approval.51
Our Party
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The people as a collective subject appear through the disruption of the crowd insofar as there is something about the insurrection that was unimaginable prior to its enactment. The impossible happens, compelling Marx to take a stand: whose side is he on? The subject forces a previously unimaginable interpretation of an event; the crowd doesn’t look like what it had been before. Now it looks like the people. With the appearance of the people as a political subject, the entire situation changes.
Here is the unpredictability of an exciting cause, the people forcing a change of theory and practice. Riotous crowd, available political form, force of the impossible: the political subject impresses itself at the effervescent site of their convergence. Marx responds to this appearance of the people with fidelity. As he says in his letter to Kugelmann, no matter the Commune’s multiple tactical and policy errors, “the present rising in Paris—even if it be crushed by the wolves, swine and vile curs of the old society—is the most glorious deed of our Party since the June insurrection in Paris.”52
Marx nonetheless criticizes the Commune in this same letter. After praising the elasticity, historical initiative, and sacrifice of the Parisians, he chides them, first, for missing the moment when they fail to march on Versailles. He faults them, second, for eliminating the Central Committee of the National Guard and holding elections to institute the Commune.
The order Marx lists his criticisms is odd, seemingly backwards in that the first is a consequence of the second; the second happened first. Badiou, drawing from Lacan’s discussion of anticipation and certainty in “Logical Time and the Assertion of Anticipated Certainty,” explains why it is not. Marx is using Versailles’s reaction (or what he imagines Versailles’s reaction would have been) to register the Commune event. Versaille’s reaction validates the hasty or anticipatory move that created the Commune. A subject had acted and Versailles had no choice but to respond. Badiou writes:
Marx judges the Commune to be precipitated—subjectivizing in its political haste—and blames it for not marching onto Versailles. But this is in order to indicate retroactively the nature of the certainty (of victory) of which this haste itself could be the bearer, insofar as it could be deciphered in the other: in the initial disorder and surprise of the inhabitants of Versailles, and in the possibility of changing the lack into reason by a second haste, that of the military offensive against Versailles. The latter would then be finally caught up in the subjective process, that is to say, in a consequent political direction, which is the only validation of the vanishing algebra of the Parisian masses into a consistent subject.53
In other words, to understand an event as the effect of a political subject, Badiou conjoins two operations: subjectivization and the subjective process. We will win. We will be shown to have been right. The certainty of the political subject—we will win— is always too soon, an anticipation of results it cannot guarantee but pursues nonetheless. Precipitous certainty is another name for political will. Rather than an amorphous combination of multiple possibilities, which is just a description of a manifold, the subject is a direction that cuts through this manifold. We find evidence of this direction in the other. The response of the other, its disorder and surprise, indicates the presence of a subject. The other’s response reads the disorder as an effect of a subject. It attributes to this subject a consistency of action, purpose, and will. That the other can do nothing but respond, that it cannot proceed as it had, is the work of the subject. In Badiou’s formulation: “In subjectivization, certainty is anticipated. In the subjective process, consistency is retroactive. To put into consistency the haste of the cause: therein lies the whole enigma of the subject.”54
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Each operation—subjectivization and subjective process—involves political struggle. Militants, organizers, agitators, and vanguards try to set things in motion. They produce actions. They try to bring people out, get them to feel their collective power, and incite them to use it. They are alert to possibilities, to protests that may become ruptures. And consequent to the gap of a disruption, militants, organizers, agitators, and vanguards work to render the disruption as an effect of a subject. They fight on the terrain of the other, endeavoring to insure that the gap remains and to give this gap meaning and direction, to make it consistent. Enemies fight back. Enemies—and even allies—may deny that a disruption occurred: nothing significant happened; the demonstration or event was within the field demarcated by capital and state, part of business as usual, an expected and permitted protest, child-friendly and within the demarcated free-speech zone. They may deny that the disruption was the effect of a subject: it was hooligans; it was a motley and contingent array of disparate voices (here empirical sociological data that identifies and fragments crowd elements comes in handy). They may attribute the disruption to the wrong subject, another state, class, or agency. For the militants, organizers, agitators, and vanguards, establishing the collectivity as the subject of a politics, inscribing it in a process and rendering it consistent, politicizes the rupture, forcing it in one direction rather than another.
Subjectivization and the subjective process are connected by an anticipation and a lag. To disrupt and surprise, subjectivization has to come too soon. It can’t be predicted, expected, or natural, for that would mean that it remained within the order of things. Rather than the intrusion of a subject, the subject would not have appeared at all. Correlative to anticipation is a lag, the gap between a move that may or may not disrupt and the disruption as it registers in the other. The lag means that effects seem to precede their causes. Only after an effect registers is its cause brought into consistency with it.
Badiou associates four “categories of the subject-effect” with subjectivization and the subjective process. Anxiety and courage respond to the gap of anticipation. The former wants to fill in the void in the old order, to restore things to their proper place, to put the law back where it belongs. The latter wants to extend the hole, to force it forward in the direction of justice. Courage leaves behind (and no longer feels) the former sense of proper place. It looks ahead to the building of something new. Correlative to anxiety and courage, then, are super-ego and justice, which are themselves effects of the subjective process, reactions to the rupture of anticipation.
That perspective which gives body to the political subject is the party. Marx describes the Commune as a glorious achievement of “our Party.” This is not a descriptive empirical claim regarding membership in a political organization. It is the point from which he responds to the subjectivization effected by the Commune event, positioning it within a process oriented to justice.
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Politicizing the People
Thirty years subsequent to his analysis of Commune, subject, and party, Badiou revises his analysis. In an essay included in The Communist Hypothesis (a slightly revised version of material presented in The Logic of Worlds), Badiou presents the Marxist discussion of the Commune in terms of the state. Rather than reading the party as the subject support of a politics, he figures it as the realization of the ambiguity of the Marxist account of the Commune.55 On the one hand, the Commune is a clear advance in proletarian struggle insofar as it smashes the machinery of the state. On the other, it ultimately fails because it smashed the machinery of the state—it’s unorganized, incapable of decision, unable to defend itself. To resolve these problems, the party takes a statist form. It is a vehicle of destruction and reconstitution, but reconstitution within the constraints given by the state.
Badiou’s rejection of party and state is familiar. Bruno Bosteels and Slavoj Žižek compellingly demonstrate the political inadequacy of this rejection. Arguing for the actualization and organization of communism in real movement, Bosteels criticizes the leftist idealism of the later Badiou’s emphasis on the pure Idea.56 Žižek likewise rejects the alternative of seizing or abandoning the state as a false one: the real challenge is transforming the state itself.57 I agree with Bosteels and Žižek. I want to add, moreover, that for leftists to make state-centeredness the problem now is to short-circuit the discussion that matters. The Left in the US, UK, and EU—not to mention communists—is struggling just to register as a political force. To worry about our seizing the state, then, is a joke, fantasy, and distraction from the task at hand. Rather than a concentration of political will, communist possibility remains diffuse, dispersed in the multitudinous politics of issues, identities, and moments of action that have yet to consolidate in the collective power of the divided people. What matters for us here and now is the galvanization of such a communist will.
In his effort to reduce the Marxist discussion of the Commune to the problem of the party-state, Badiou neglects the more fundamental question posed by the Commune, namely, that of the relation of the party to the people, the collective political subject. The Commune is less the form of a state than it is the form of a break with a previous state, both the state as in the National Government and the state of political incapacity associated with the workers, as Badiou himself emphasizes in the later work. As such a break, it opens up and disorders. The people are disassembled, suggestible, strong, and mobile as crowds. It is a mistake, then, for Badiou to reduce the Commune to a state form (as Ross powerfully demonstrates) and the Marxist tradition to commentary on and reaction to this state form. Badiou seems to have fallen prey to the fatalism his younger self criticizes—parties will be parties; “we will always be fucked over.”58 Marx himself analyzes the Commune in terms of the subjectivization of the people. In the letter to Kugelmann, Marx treats the Parisians, the people of Paris, as “our heroic Party comrades.” Their advances are teaching new lessons in political struggle, namely, that smashing the bureaucratic-military machine is essential “for every people’s revolution on the Continent.”59 In The Civil War in France, as he presents the Commune as the “direct anti-thesis to the empire,” Marx describes it as the positive form of a republic in which class rule itself is superseded. He draws out the politics of constituting the people under the leadership of the working class, noting the replacing of the standing army by the armed people, the establishing of universal suffrage, the opening of education to all, and, of course, the replacing of the parasitic excrescence of the old state organization with the self-government of the producers. Marx writes, “The great social measure of the Commune was its own working existence. Its special measures could but betoken the tendency of a government of the people by the people.”
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The people “storming heaven” don’t preexist the revolutionary event of the Commune. The Commune produces them as its cause. The middle class, which had helped put down the workers’ insurrection of June 1848, finds itself enrolling “under the colors of the Commune and defending it against the willful misconstructions of Thiers.” Marx explains this support as resulting from the Commune’s abolition of interest on debts and extension of time for repayment. The peasantry had Louis Bonaparte, but this support started to break down under the Second Empire. Were it not for the blockade around Paris, Marx argues, the French peasantry would have had to recognize that the Commune was its only hope, its only source of release from blood tax, gendarme, and priest. Again, the temporality is important: the peasantry “would have had,” had the Commune process been able to continue, a process that Marx presents as the subjectification of the people as party.
Lenin’s discussion of the Commune in State and Revolution takes up a similar problematic of people and party. Lenin observes that the idea of “a people’s revolution seems strange coming from Marx.”60 But to Lenin this idea is crucial—and crucial to understanding the role of the party—insofar as it points to the active and independent activity of the majority, “the very lowest social groups, crushed by oppression and exploitation,” imprinting the revolution with their own demands. Because in 1871 the proletariat was not a majority anywhere in Europe, a “people’s revolution” had also to embrace the peasants. Lenin writes, “These two classes then constituted the ‘people. These two classes are united by the fact that the ‘bureaucratic-military state machine oppresses, crushes, exploits them.”61 For Lenin, where the Commune fails and where its failure impresses itself on (en-forms) the party is in the constituting of the people, that is, in actually producing the alliance between peasants and proletariat necessary for revolution. Lenin commends Marx for seeing that, insofar as the “smashing of the state machine was required by the interests of both the peasants and the workers,” it united them and placed before them a common task. Smashing the state, or eliminating a “special force” of oppression, requires that the majority (workers and peasants) suppress the minority (the bourgeoisie), which means that the majority have to be organized to carry this out. This is the role of the party: concentrating and directing the energies of the people. The party shapes and intensifies the people’s practical struggles.
Given Lenin’s interests in establishing the revolutionary action of the Russian working class within the historical trajectory of proletarian struggle, that he highlights the idea of a people’s revolution isn’t surprising. The parallel with the Commune helps him here, providing a form by which to understand the Russian 1905 revolution. In an earlier text, “Lessons of the Moscow Uprising,” published in 1906, Lenin examines the revolutionary events in Moscow in December 1905.62 And while he does not look specifically at the Commune, he does highlight the action of the crowd, seeing in the crowd the march of practice ahead of theory, or, the anticipation effect of the subject.
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For Lenin, the December movement in Moscow demonstrates that the general strike, as a predominant mode of struggle, is outmoded: “the movement is breaking out of these narrow bounds with elemental and irresistible force and giving rise to the highest form of struggle—an uprising.” He argues that even as the unions and revolutionary parties “intuitively felt” that the strike they called for December 7 should grow into an uprising, they weren’t prepared for this; they spoke of it as something remote. At the same time, a general strike was already contained within the parameters of the expected. The government was ready for the strike, organizing its countermeasures accordingly. These counterrevolutionary measures on the part of the government pushed the masses of people to insurrection. As the government escalated its repression, “the unorganized street crowds, quite spontaneously and hesitatingly, set up the first barricade.” Lenin traces the move from strike, to isolated barricades, to the “mass erection of barricades and street fighting against the troops.” At each point, the revolutionary movement compels the reaction to further violence, further attack, further extension and exhaustion of its troops. The workers demand more resolute action: “what is to be done next?” The Social Democratic leaders are left behind, perhaps because they are arguing over what is to be done even as the revolutionary masses have already destroyed the previous setting of action and are rapidly creating a new one.
Lenin’s excoriating critique of Plekhanov puts “into consistency the haste of the cause,” that is, it retroactively assigns consistency to the revolutionary workers in anticipation of the certainty of their ultimate victory. Lenin writes:
Thus, nothing could be more short-sighted than Plekhanov’s view, seized upon by all the opportunists, that the strike was untimely and should not have been started, and that “they should not have taken to arms”. On the contrary, we should have taken to arms more resolutely, energetically and aggressively; we should have explained to the masses that it was impossible to confine things to a peaceful strike and that a fearless and relentless armed fight was necessary. And now we must at last openly and publicly admit that political strikes are inadequate; we must carry on the widest agitation among the masses in favour of an armed uprising and make no attempt to obscure this question by talk about “preliminary stages”, or to befog it in any way.
Plekhanov failed to respond to the masses as subject; he failed to note how their haste brought into being another phase of political conflict. What if the party had not lagged behind the workers? As he makes the party the subject support of the revolutionary people, Lenin makes it responsive to the lessons they teach.
In a passage evocative of descriptions of the March 18, 1871 crowd event that made way for the Commune, Lenin praises the crowd:
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In the December days, the Moscow proletariat taught us magnificent lessons in ideologically “winning over” the troops, as, for example, on December 8 in Strastnaya Square, when the crowd surrounded the Cossacks, mingled and fraternised with them, and persuaded them to turn back. Or on December 10, in Presnya District, when two working girls, carrying a red flag in a crowd of 10,000 people, rushed out to meet the Cossacks crying: “Kill us! We will not surrender the flag alive!” And the Cossacks were disconcerted and galloped away, amidst the shouts from the crowd: “Hurrah for the Cossacks!”
The party is the bearer of the lessons of the uprising. It is both the perspective from which the uprising is assessed and is itself, as an organization capable of learning and responding, an effect of the uprising. The party learns from the subject it supports—and that it is the support of this subject is clear insofar as the subject necessarily exceeds it. Whether posed as crowd or Commune, the political form of the party cannot be reduced to a problem of the state. It must also be thought in terms of the subjectivization of the people and their process as the subject of a politics.
In his classic account of the Commune, the French journalist and revolutionary socialist Lissagaray likewise links crowd and party such that movements in the street are legible as the actions of a subject. He describes the weeks and months prior to the Paris Commune—the defeats in the war with Prussia, negotiations toward surrender, substitution of plebiscite (an up or down vote of confidence in the provisional government) for elections, and increase of political clubs in working class areas of the city. As he does so, Lissagaray attends to the poor, the working men and the faithful children of 1789, and the young men from the bourgeoisie who “have gone over to the people.” In 1863, he tells us, these people scandalously affirm themselves as a class. In 1867, their demonstrations in the streets are the “appearance of a revolutionary socialist party” (which will be asserted more directly in a resolution adopted by a meeting of the vigilance committees in February 1871).63 In 1870, they alone in a paralyzed summer exhibit political courage. Yet this class, this party (Lissagaray doesn’t think it necessary to make distinctions here, implying, perhaps, the open, changing, and interconnected dimensions of each), remains unable to channel the energies of the crowd. They may be a “party of action,” but they are in a “chaotic state,” crisscrossed by different currents (and, again, “party” here suggests a collective that is part of a changing situation).64 So even as the crowd riots against the armistice, the people nonetheless endorse the government in the plebiscite that follows: 558,000 yes and 62,000 no.65 Lissagaray explains that this happened because those who were “clear-sighted, prompt, and energetic” were wanting in “cadres, in method, in organizers.”66 Jacobins like Blanqui “lived in an exclusive circle of friends.” Still other potential leaders “carefully kept aloof from working men.” Even the Central Committee of the Twenty Districts, while “daring, eloquent,” treated “everything by manifestos” and so remained “only a center of emotions, not of direction.”67
Lissagaray establishes the setting of the Commune in the challenge of responding to the opening the active crowd produces, in the consequences of the gap effected by the crowd for organizing the people. At stake is not the specificity of a form of government, municipal or national. Nor is it a matter of the legitimacy of elections, representatives, or decisions. Instead it concerns the movement from people, to class, to party, the movement at stake in politicization. The stakes of this movement, moreover, are not those of substitution, vanguardism, or domination—they are arrangements of intensity, courage, and will. The relation of the people to the party is a question of organization in the context of those who might steer the people against themselves, making them a means of a revolution not their own. Lissagaray suggests that a class enters politics as a scandal, a scandalous insistence on equality. When this insistence makes itself felt on the streets, a revolutionary socialist party appears, a party characterized by action, even by a concentration of emotions. But action and emotion, subjective capacity, aren’t enough. The capacity, to persist as the capacity of a subject, has to be organized, incorporated into a form. Thus, the problem of the party is organizing the people in one direction rather than another, but always retroactively.
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Conclusion
The crowd event is the Real that incites the people as a collective, partisan subject. The party is the body that renders the subjectivizing crowd event into a moment in the subjective process of the politicized people. The people as subject is neither crowd nor party but between them, in the overlap of anticipation and retroactive determination with respect to a political process. Lissagaray, Lenin, Marx, and Badiou—from them we see in the Commune the movement of a subject. Their perspective is not reducible to a static place or position. It is instead a consequence of the appearing of the subject to which this perspective responds. More than a stationary moment pregnant with potential yet exhausted in the crowd’s dissipation, the Commune erupts to surprise and mis-assemble the social with the certainty of justice. We see this mis-assembly in the reaction of the other forced to respond, to react, to do things differently from the ways they were done before. As Badiou writes, “There is no subjectivization without anticipation, which in turn can be measured by the subjective process.”68 It’s the people as political subject that concerns the party. How can it hasten their advance, how can it not stand in their way, how can it inscribe and extend their victories?
More than a body focused on the state, the party is a form for the expression and direction of political will. It concentrates disruption in a process in order to produce political power: these acts are connected; they demonstrate the strength of the collective. It endeavors to arrange the intensity unleashed by the crowd, to keep it present as fervent desire. Ross’s attention to the crowd in the Commune enables her to draw out the opening of collective desire, the lack that maintains it as a desire to desire. This attention rightly prevents us from reducing the Commune to an arrangement of offices or list of edicts, focusing us instead on the disruptive presence of the people where they should not be. At the same time, the Marxist tradition crucially sees the people as a subject and its struggle as enduring. The subject that expresses itself in the Commune event is not the diffusion of creative individuality; dominant power always allows for the carnivalesque. It is rather the people as a political subject manifest in the closure of directed intensity within the revolutionary opening. Because the party looks for them, the people are found. As Badiou writes,
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When Marx takes it upon himself to listen to the revolutionary activity of his time, to the popular historical disorder, it is a matter of pinpointing in the latter, pursuant to harsh theoretical and practical work, the dialectical form of the political subject as such. The deduction of its general activity presupposes only the riots of the nineteenth century. 69
Whether he names this subject people, proletariat, party, or Paris, Marx finds it where it will have been.
1 H. A. Taine, The Revolution, “Les origines de la France contemporaine” vol. 1, trans. John Durand, London: Daldy, Isbister & Co, 1878, 30–1.
2 Ibid.
3 Bill Buford, Among the Thugs (New York: Vintage, 1993), 166. Thanks to Joe Mink for bringing this book to my attention.
4 Ibid., 190.
5 Ibid., 194.
6 Elias Canetti, Crowds and Power, trans. Carol Stewart, New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1984; original German publication in 1960, 17.
7 Ibid., 18.
8 See my Democracy and Other Neoliberal Fantasies (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2009) for a discussion ofstrange attractors, 67–70.
9 Canetti, Crowds and Power, 29.
10 Ibid.
11 Ibid., 19.
12 Ibid., 20.
13 Ibid., 29.
14 “To be faithful to an event is to move within the situation that this event has supplemented, by thinking (although all thought is a practice, a putting to the test) the situation ‘according to’ the event,” Alain Badiou, Ethics, trans. Peter Hallward, London: Verso, 2001, 41.
15 Stewart Edwards, ed., The Communards of Paris, 1871 (Documents of Revolution), Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1973, 62–3.
16 Canetti, Crowds and Power, 80.
17 Prosper Olivier Lissagaray, History of the Paris Commune of 1871, trans. Eleanor Marx, London: New Park Publications, 1976, 65.
18 Frank, The Paris Commune of 1871, New York: Grosset and Dunlap, 1965, 112.
19 Edwards, The Communards of Paris, 59.
20 Jellinek, The Paris Commune of1871, 113–14.
21 Edwards, The Communards ofParis, 65.
22 Martin Breaugh, The Plebian Experience, trans. Lazer Lederhendler, New York: Columbia University Press, 2013, 177.
23 Ibid., 178.
24 Karl Marx, “Civil War in France,” Selected Writings, ed. Lawrence H. Simons, Indianapolis: Hackett
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Publishing, 1995, 304.
25 Ibid., 307.
26 Lissagaray, History of the Paris Commune of 1871, 130.
27 Frederick Busi writes, “From its inception the Commune was plagued with indecisiveness and a confusing diversity of aims and ideas. An American observer in Paris remarked, ‘It’s a madhouse inhabited by monkeys.’ From its beginning, lack of discipline and direction hampered its development, and understandably so, for it could never quite decide if it were the vanguard in the struggle against social injustice or for the restoration of national honor through war.” “The Failure of Revolution,” in Revolution and Reaction: The Paris Commune 1871, ed. John Hicks and Robert Tucker, Amherst: The University of Massachusetts Press, 1973, 14–25; 19. The book is a reprint ofThe Massachusetts Review XII, 3, Summer 1971.
28 Philip M. Katz, From Appomattox to Montmarte: Americans and the Paris Commune, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1998.
29 Ibid., 97.
30 Ibid., 108–10.
31 Marx, “The Civil War in France,” 307.
32 Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels, “The German Ideology,” Selected Writings, 130.
33 Alain Badiou, Theory of the Subject, trans. Bruno Bosteels, London: Continuum, 2009.
34 V. I. Lenin, “The State and Revolution,” in The Lenin Anthology, ed. Robert C. Tucker, New York: Norton, 1975, 336.
35 Badiou, Theory of the Subject, 138.
36 Kristin Ross, The Emergence ofSocial Space: Rimbaud and the Paris Commune, London: Verso, 2008; originally University of Minnesota Press, 1988.
37 Ibid., 20.
38 Ibid., 23, 33.
39 Ibid., 33.
40 Ibid., 136.
41 Ibid., 100–21.
42 Ibid., 103.
43 Ibid., 113.
44 Ibid., 113.
45 Ibid., 101.
46 Ibid., 120–21.
47 See Gavin Walker, “The Reinvention of Communism: Politics, History, Globality,” South Atlantic Quarterly 113: 4, Fall 2014, 671–86.
48 Ross, The Emergence of Social Space, 108.
49 Ibid., 4.
50 Badiou, Theory ofthe Subject, 46.
51 Ibid., 220.
52 “Marx to Dr Kugelmann Concerning the Paris Commune,” April 12, 1871, marxists.org.
53 Badiou, Theory of the Subject, 251.
54 Ibid., 251.
55 Alain Badiou, The Communist Hypothesis, trans. David Macey and Steve Corcoran, London: Verso, 2010, 182.
56 Bruno Bosteels, “The Leftist Hypothesis: Communism in the Age of Terror,” in The Idea of Communism, ed. Costas Douzinas and Slavoj Žižek, London: Verso, 2010.
57 Slavoj Žižek, “How to Begin from the Beginning,” in The Idea of Communism.
58 Badiou, Theory of the Subject, 328.
59 Marx Letter to Kugelmann.
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