Diplomacy and Ideology: From the French Revolution to the Digital Age 0367897792, 9780367897796

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Diplomacy and Ideology

This innovative new book argues that diplomacy, which emerged out of the French Revolution, has become one of the central Ideological State Apparatuses of the modern democratic nation-state. The book is divided into four thematic parts. The first presents the central concepts and theoretical perspectives derived from the work of Slavoj Žižek, focusing on his understanding of politics, ideology, and the core of the conceptual apparatus of Lacanian psychoanalysis. There then follow three parts treating diplomacy as archi-politics, ultra-politics, and post-politics, respectively highlighting three eras of the modern history of diplomacy from the French Revolution until today. The first part takes on the question of the creation of the term ­“diplomacy,” which took place during the time of the French Revolution. The second part begins with the effects on diplomacy arising from the horrors of the two World Wars. Finally, the third part covers another major shift in Western diplomacy during the last century, the fall of the Soviet Union, and how this transformation shows itself in the field of Diplomacy Studies. The book argues that diplomacy’s primary task is not to be understood as negotiating peace between warring parties, but rather to reproduce the myth of the state’s unity by repressing its fundamental inconsistencies. This book will be of much interest to students of diplomacy studies, political theory, philosophy, and International Relations. Alexander Stagnell is a Senior Lecturer at Södertörn University, Sweden.

Routledge New Diplomacy Studies Series Editors: Corneliu Bjola University of Oxford and

Markus Kornprobst

Diplomatic Academy of Vienna

This series publishes theoretically challenging and empirically authoritative studies of the traditions, functions, paradigms and institutions of modern diplomacy. Taking a comparative approach, the New Diplomacy Studies series aims to advance research on international diplomacy, publishing innovative accounts of how “old” and “new” diplomats help steer international conduct between anarchy and hegemony, handle demands for international stability vs international justice, facilitate transitions between international orders, and address global governance challenges. Dedicated to the exchange of different scholarly perspectives, the series aims to be a forum for inter-paradigm and inter-disciplinary debates, and an opportunity for dialogue between scholars and practitioners. Sports Diplomacy Origins, Theory and Practice Stuart Murray Countering Online Propaganda and Extremism The Dark Side of Digital Diplomacy Edited by Corneliu Bjola and James Pamment China’s Cultural Diplomacy A Great Leap Outward? Xin Liu Diplomacy and Borderlands African Agency at the Intersections of Orders Edited by Katharina P. Coleman, Markus Kornprobst, and Annette Seegers Diplomacy and Ideology From the French Revolution to the Digital Age Alexander Stagnell For more information about this series, please visit: www.routledge.com/ Routledge-New-Diplomacy-Studies/book-series/RNDS

Diplomacy and Ideology From the French Revolution to the Digital Age

Alexander Stagnell

First published 2020 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2020 Alexander Stagnell The right of Alexander Stagnell to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilized in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Stagnell, Alexander, 1987- author. Title: Diplomacy and ideology : from the French Revolution to the digital age / Alexander Stagnell. Description: Abingdon, Oxon ; New York : Routledge, 2020. | Series: Routledge new diplomacy studies | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2020005442 (print) | LCCN 2020005443 (ebook) | ISBN 9780367897796 (hardback) | ISBN 9781003021094 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Diplomacy–History. | Diplomacy–Philosophy. | State, The. | World politics–19th century. | World politics–20th century. Classification: LCC JZ1305 .S73 2020 (print) | LCC JZ1305 (ebook) | DDC 327.209–dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020005442 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020005443 ISBN: 978-0-367-89779-6 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-003-02109-4 (ebk) Typeset in Times New Roman by Wearset Ltd, Boldon, Tyne and Wear

In loving memory of Kristina Stagnell (1957–2015)

Contents

Acknowledgments

ix

Introduction: on the problems of diplomacy

1

PART I

What is in a name?

13

  1  War and diplomacy

15

  2  Diplomacy as an Ideological State Apparatus

30

  3  The naming of diplomacy

48

PART II

Diplomacy as Archi-Politics

69

  4  The beginnings of diplomacy

71

  5  Diplomacy and the people

90

PART III

Diplomacy as Ultra-Politics

109

  6  Diplomacy is dead – long live diplomacy!

111

  7  Diplomacy and the nuclear threat

132

PART IV

Diplomacy as Post-Politics

153

  8  Diplomacy for the next century

155

viii  Contents   9  Diplomacy and terrorism in the digital age

175

10  Final remarks: enjoy your diplomacy!

195

Index 

208

Acknowledgments

First, I would like to thank my former supervisors, Mats Rosengren, Otto Fischer, and Anders Bartonek, for their dogged determination in repeatedly imploring me to change my writing habits, which I then put great effort into ignoring. Likewise, all my gratitude to Frank Ruda, Jason Glynos, and Ola ­Sigurdson for acting as external readers and critics at important stages of this work and for providing invaluable comments and insightful critiques on the text, without which this book would not have been possible. I am also particularly grateful to my dear colleagues and friends Mirey Gorgis and David Payne, who contributed to this work in more ways than I can express. Furthermore, I want to extend my thanks to all my former fellow PhD students and all my colleagues in the Rhetoric Departments at Uppsala University and Södertörn University for years of enriching discussions and exchanges. This project would not have been possible if it was not for the funding and intellectual environment provided by BEEGS at Södertörn University. I also want to extend my gratitude to everyone at Critical Cultural Theory and especially to the entire Department of Philosophy at Södertörn for allowing me to partake in seminars and to present my work. Special thanks go to CESPRA and to director Olivier Remaud for kindly inviting me to spend a year learning from everything that L’ÉHÉSS and Paris have to offer. My thanks also for the generous grants from Gålöstiftelsen and Svensk-Franska Stiftelsen. There’s a special thank you to the editorial team at Routledge, especially Andrew Humphrys and Bethany Lund-Yates, who provided invaluable support and guidance throughout the publication process. And finally, I am indebted to my family for all their support, encouragement, and inspiration.

Introduction On the problems of diplomacy

Introduction: on the problems of diplomacy Many contemporary works on diplomacy have taken their starting point in Hans Holbein the Younger’s famous painting The Ambassadors (1533), perhaps not primarily due to his status as one of the greatest portraitists of the Northern Renaissance, but because Holbein’s painting has been considered to portray a novelty in his time: the growth and expansion of modern diplomacy, traditionally thought to have been initiated among the Italian city-states barely a century earlier. The painting portrays Jean de Dinteville, Seigneur of Polisy, Bailly of Troyes, and French ambassador to England, together with his friend, the Bishop of Lavaur, Georges de Selve. Between the two men stands a table, filled with objects supposed to represent not only their personal wealth – both economic and intellectual – but also the mores that belonged to the new art of the ambassador. The most famous aspect of the painting is, however, the vanitas, the anamorphic skull which occupies a prominent position in the painting’s foreground. When looking at the portrait straight on, the skull is distorted into an indistinguishable smear, only showing its true form when gazed at from awry. Besides reminding the observer about his or her own mortality, the anamorphic shape of the vanitas also bears the mark of a hidden message. Just like an ambassador, whose innocent and warm words of hospitality and gratitude uttered in public contain within them potentially devastating impact for those who know how to listen, the memento mori is hidden in plain sight, revealing its message only to those who know where and how to look. However, before we even lay our eyes upon the painting itself, the title confronts us with the initial problem of this work: the name. Holbein’s portrait did not receive the title The Ambassadors until long after his death. This fact has been discussed within the field of Diplomacy Studies by highlighting how the name acts as a limit, imposing a certain kind of meaning and thus inscribing the portrait into a “diplomatic frame.” In one of the earliest historical works treating Holbein’s painting, published just 10 years after it was acquired by the British National Gallery in 1890, British art historian Mary F.S. Hervey pointed out that nothing was initially known of its history beyond the final years of the eighteenth century (1900, 5–7). Hervey tells us that it was first put on record in 1793 by a

2  Introduction Monsieur Le Brun – a Parisian art dealer, artist, and husband of painter Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun – who in the first volume of his publication Galerie des peintres flamands, hollandais et allemands referred to it by the name Deux Ambassadeurs. However, Le Brun’s notes on the painting only extend to a terrible sketch and some short biographical notes concerning Holbein, leaving much of its first three hundred years of existence, as well as the origins of its name, hidden in the shadows (1793, 6–8). Despite much work, the possible birth-name of the painting remains even today shrouded in mystery, often signaled by the habit of putting the title in inverted commas. Beginning with names, it is possible to identify a remarkable similarity between that of Holbein’s painting and the name of diplomacy, hinging on the fact that they were both baptized long after they first saw the light of day. Their names are, however, not arbitrary, but rather each seems to perfectly express their respective histories, thus giving the names an air of appropriateness. As we know, The Ambassadors is first given a name around the time of the French Revolution, approximately at the same time as diplomacy is first used in the modern sense, signifying the relationship between states. In the late 1700s, ambassadeur had been in use in French for at least 300 years, going back to the medieval Latin equivalent ambasciator – meaning a messenger or envoy – and used interchangeably with the much older terms legatus and orator. Thus, a painting depicting two men, of which at least one was on a mission to the British crown, seemed to express the values of a continuously evolving practice of sending and receiving envoys, as well as the formation and the social mores of what during this time came to be known as the corps diplomatique. Deux Ambassadeurs can, in such circumstances, do nothing but appear as a fitting name, even though Jean Hotman, almost 100 years after Holbein had finished his painting, commented on how the word ambassadeur still seemed foreign to French ears (1603, 2). Since its inception during the era of the French Revolution, diplomacy has been assumed to go back to the ancient Greek word διπλώμα [diplōma], originally meaning “double” or “doubled” and later used, also by the Romans, to denote a “letter of recommendation” or “passport.” From the latter half of the seventeenth century, however, the adjectival form diplomaticus (and its later derivatives in all Western European languages) was used to denote the historically oriented science of diplomatics, initiated by Jean Mabillon’s Re Diplomaticus first published in 1681. Mabillon’s study aimed at distinguishing authentic ancient documents and diplomas from forgeries. The etymological association with the safe travel and exchange of treaties between sovereigns, has since ensured a continuity and a history of diplomacy going back at least to Ancient Greece, thereby ensuring a certain appropriateness in the use of the term diplomacy for denoting the conduct of relations between states within all historical periods. However, even if the name diplomacy might have a long and continuous history, the question of the object named by the concept has generated a number of controversies. Throughout the twentieth century, scholars and practitioners alike have noted the difficulty of ascribing an unambiguous definition to diplomacy, a fact which has also been used to explain a supposed lack of proper diplomatic

Introduction   3 theory. The earliest dictionary entry on diplomacy can be found in the Dictionnaire de l’Academie Française from 1798. There it is defined simply as “[t]he sciences on relations between different powers” (“Diplomatie” 1798). This understanding of diplomacy was popular around the turn of the century, but quickly faded once the science of relations between powers was incorporated into that newly formed body of knowledge known as Political Science. Later, in the early twentieth century, this was further specified by the invention of the discipline of International Relations, establishing itself as one of the many subfields of Political Science. This specialization also transformed diplomacy into an object of study rather than purely a name denoting the discipline itself. So, instead of progressively being inscribed with a more precise meaning, the significations connected to the term diplomacy seem to have multiplied since its inception. Christer Jönsson has, based on the writings of former diplomat Sir Peter Marshall, enumerated six more or less common uses of the word diplomacy. The concept can be used as a way to speak of a conduct, as a way to define a certain content, to denote the practice or use of negotiation or the practice of sending diplomats, to signify the manner in which a relationship is conducted (most commonly in the adjectival form, “diplomatic”), or to name the art or skill of the diplomats themselves (Jönsson 2012, 15–16). These definitions are all active on different levels. They also open up for the everyday metaphorical use of the term, such as for instance using the adjectival form of diplomatic to imply that someone is “tactful,” “gracious” or perhaps “strategic.” All these definitions, when used in the realm of relationships between sovereigns, seem to suggest that diplomacy refers to all possible levels of an institution, or perhaps rather of an apparatus, tasked with representing a sovereign entity. Thus, it is within this apparatus that diplomacy can refer to any one or more of the following: its overarching structure; the sovereign’s act to send an envoy; the ambassador’s skill to maneuver negotiations or the actual conducting of foreign ­relations; the content which is discussed at meetings, or even the manner, both signifying the mores and the culture which arises and the actual form of interaction, such as negotiation, taken up by its practice. In other words, diplomacy seems to denote all aspects of an apparatus, that is, a set of “functional processes by means of which a systematized activity is carried out” (Merram-­ Webster online). This idea of diplomacy as an apparatus of the state was also discernible already from the conception of the term, as is obvious in, for instance, Guillaume de Garden’s Traité complet de diplomatie from 1833: Within the limits assigned to the domain of diplomacy, we include all the points which are of importance to the endurance of a nation, in order to assure its conservation, its independence and prosperity, and to protect itself from every enterprise on the part of the foreigner. When it comes to the form to which its action pertains, it consists in the mode that the government follows to apply the principles that it recognizes and to sustain its laws with justice and efficacy. (2–3)

4   Introduction What de Garden gives voice to is one but in no sense the only understanding of the purpose of this apparatus called diplomacy. Juxtaposing this definition against, for instance, that of the Dictionnaire, illustrates the already mentioned problem, namely to what level of the apparatus diplomacy actually refers. But the problem of the name is not simply one of what diplomacy in principal denotes, i.e., what the word means; equally, the problem we encounter surrounding the name touches on the very problem of the history of diplomacy as such. How diplomacy is defined – if, for instance, it is defined by its goal (should it preserve peace or preserve the state?), or by its function (is it a matter of balancing the anarchic field of nation-states or mediating between alienated groups of humans?) – has an impact on how it is possible to write its history. The problem of the name is thus as much the question of the beginning as it is one of the being of diplomacy. The second problem introduced by The Ambassadors was first formulated by Jacques Lacan in his eleventh seminar, Four Fundamental Concepts of Psychoanalysis, which in the official French edition, edited by his son-in-law JacquesAlain Miller, is adorned with Holbein’s painting on the cover. In the first lecture under the heading “Of the gaze as Objet Petit a,” Lacan formulates the issue at hand in the following way: In our relation to things, in so far as this relation is constituted by the way of vision, and ordered in the figures of representation, something slips, passes, is transmitted, from stage to stage, and is always to some degree eluded in it – that is what we call the gaze. (1998, 73) This slipping object is, in the following two lectures, exemplified by ­ olbein’s anamorphic skull, understood as an attempt to visualize “the subject H as annihilated” or to embody “castration, which for us, centres the whole organization of the desires through the framework of the fundamental drives” (Lacan 1998, 88–89). What is at stake in this second problem is, in other words, representation, that is, how our vision of the world always includes a something which, on the one hand, evades any attempt at presenting it while, on the other, it still leaves its mark within the order of representation. When approaching The Ambassadors head on, our eyes are directly drawn to this mark, the weird stain occupying the bottom half of the pictorial image. What we are confronted with is the question: what does this strange smudge represent? The skull, through its outstretched and distorted form, entices the onlooker to engage in an interpretative act, to try to make sense of that which seems to escape sense. But what we come to recognize, Lacan would say, when we finally look at it from awry – that is, when we are met with the gaze emanating from the skull’s empty eye sockets – is nothing but our own gaze: the void of the subject’s desire. The point, following Žižek’s reading of Lacan, is that every image includes this kind of smudge, the thing which stands out and catches our attention or, rather, our desire. It is thus, in other words, a lack appearing within representation itself and making the

Introduction  5 image incomplete that forces us to attempt to repeat the representative act. Hence, what this inciting thing hides is nothing but the void of castration. If it were not for this lack, representations would not be demanded anew; unity would have already been achieved between the representation and that which is represented. For Žižek, the gaze, the slipping object, is an object that constitutes the subject’s counterpoint. What the subject meets in the desired object is nothing but a spectral supplement filling in the gap which this subject is meant to cover over. This phenomenon is not specific to art (illustrated in the technique of anamorphic painting). It also arises in the sphere of ambassadorial practice, according to which a representative bearing a message, a subject speaking on behalf of another subject, actualizes the diplomatic sphere’s problematic relationship not only between the one who speaks and the thing about which one is speaking (i.e., between the message that appears and the weird stain which distorts it), but just as much between the one who speaks and the one through whom words are spoken (i.e., between the Master and his subject). Traditionally, representation has been understood as a constitutive aspect of any diplomatic practice since, without representatives, any diplomatic encounter would simply turn into direct negotiation. However, the uncertainties regarding it have also haunted the study of diplomacy, in which representation has often been pointed out as an increasingly problematic concept, especially since the end of absolute monarchy: The idea of diplomatic representation has had problems throughout the life of the modern diplomatic system. […] The medieval ambassador represented his sovereign in the sense that he was him or embodied him (literally in some readings) when he presented himself at court. Since then, however, representation has come to involve at least three elements: the sovereign; the ambassador as a person; and the ambassador in his representative capacity as the “sovereign.” To complicate the matter further, the identities of sovereigns and diplomats alike have changed, blurred, and become more complex. Representation is a slippery concept but one we cannot entirely do without. (Sharp 1997, 611) However, these problems of the relationship between the representative and the represented go back considerably further. For instance, they constituted the central stake when the great orators Demosthenes and Aeschines engaged in the trial which came to be known as On the False Embassy, following the catastrophes haunting the peace their joint embassy secured with Philip II of Macedon. In his accusation against Aeschines, Demosthenes asked: Who persuaded you to send embassies almost as far as the Red Sea, declaring that Greece was the object of Philip’s designs, and that it was your duty to anticipate the danger and not be disloyal to the Hellenic cause? Was it not Eubulus who proposed the decree, and the defendant Aeschines who

6   Introduction went as ambassador to the Peloponnesus? What he said there after his arrival, either in conversation or in public speeches, is best known to himself: what he reported on his return I am sure you have not forgotten. (1926, 304) Demosthenes here illustrates the same duality with respect to the problem of representation: on the one hand the ambassador might use words to manipulate and gain personal favors, as Aeschines was accused of having done when he was sent to represent the polis but supposedly only spoke on behalf of Philip’s cause. But also, in the very act of representation, when Aeschines delivers the speech of the Athenians in front of Philip and his court far away, there is, on the side of his audience, a certain slippage or uncertainty regarding the relationship between the one who speaks and the one whose words are spoken. How was Philip to know that Aeschines had accurately delivered the words of the Athenians? Thus, this ambiguity of the ambassador arises not simply out of the representative’s ability to use words to ensnare, confuse, and ultimately cheat a counterpart through clever diplomatic conversation. The question of what the ambassador actually means is further complicated by the identity of the one to whom these words belong. It is not only that the audience needs to determine if the ambassador, through an utterance, is trying to trick them (for which they need to discern the ambassador’s desire), but furthermore, they also need to know if this is a ruse set up only to benefit the envoy personally, or if the ambassador acts on the order of (a part of) the sovereign. But the problem of representation is not reducible to the problem of distinguishing between what was said and what was actually meant. No, what is presented to us in Lacan’s reading of Holbein’s painting is not the old problem of the limit of the act of representation (“can we be sure that the diplomat is truthfully representing the Master’s wish?”) but of the inscription of this very limit of representation in representation itself. Hence, what Demosthenes’ attack on Aeschines misses is the very gap that representation inserts in the relationship between speaker and the spoken. In other words, the accusation that Aeschines fails to acknowledge that his words are not entirely his own but belong to the Athenians who sent him assumes that the problem lies in how accurately he portrayed their will (and how much he let the ambiguities of language play to his advantage). What Lacan’s reading of Holbein’s painting points to, in contrast, is not that this is a problem of the relationship between the one who represents and that which is represented, but rather that this impossibility of a perfect coincidence between representative and represented is inscribed into the very process of representation as such. There is, in other words, always another invisible counterpart present in Aeschines’ speech, only now the difference is that, as a representative, this counterpart, the one who borrows his voice, is doubled in his very own body. It is thus not only Aeschines’ voice, engaged in negotiations with Philip, which is not entirely his own: his entire subjectivity is, at its core, cut through by this impossibility of ever being one with itself. What appears in the skull of Holbein’s painting, the uncanny presence, is the attempt to capture

Introduction   7 this cut. What Demosthenes would have seen, if only he had been able to approach Aeschines’ speech from awry, is, in other words, that what had first struck him as Aeschines’ brazen act of disloyalty, was nothing but the void of his own desire. Thus, the problem of representation, the failure to solve disagreements directly and honestly, is not simply due to the moral unreliability of envoys and their masters. Rather it points to the task of understanding what it says about the ambassador and about diplomacy once we understand representation as always-already split from within; that the language of the diplomat, just like language in general, is not only the language of another, and thus never fully under the subject’s control, but the subject itself is divided by the same impossibility, only there to cover over an inescapable divide. It is with this central insight that we thus reach the third aspect of this work: death. In an attempt to understand the problems of the name and representation, it is necessary to perform the kind of reading of diplomacy that is suggested to us by ­Holbein’s painting: focusing on how the skull as a sign of mortality inscribes itself on the very surface of diplomacy. Although the existence of the memento mori in Holbein’s The Ambassadors is sometimes explained as just a reference to the personal motto of its commissioner, Jean de Dinteville, it nevertheless actualizes a conundrum that has haunted diplomacy since its inception. Already, just a few decades after the word diplomacy starts to appear in dictionaries, in politics, and in scholarly works in Western Europe, voices also begin to proclaim its death. These attempts have since only multiplied, leaving politicians, writers, journalists, and scholars to compete in predicting the end of diplomacy, regardless of whether its executioner is called the people, technological advances, or some newly emerging violent conflict. Countless are also the number of contemporary works in Diplomacy Studies initiated by yet another attempt to debunk the impending death of diplomacy. Apropos Holbein’s painting, Marie-Christine Kessler for instance writes: Death, already present in the painting, poses a question regarding actuality: Are ambassadors one of the possible incarnations of human glory? Is their disappearance programmed? Do the classical ambassadors, emissaries to a State from a neighboring one, subsist in a world where the heads of state and their governments deal with the problems in a direct manner, by telephone or in “summits” where diplomacy becomes multilateral and regional, where their disappearance is often evoked? […] [H]as he [the ambassador] wasted away together with the state? What remains is nothing but an honorary title, a residual symbol of a profession sent to perish. (2012, 11, 13) So, what are we to make about the insistence on the theme of death in diplomacy? Is it just a case of hyperbolic language on the part of individuals unable to historicize their own age or did Holbein unintentionally, or rather perhaps unconsciously, include in his depiction of two ambassadors a potential threat, not only foretelling the end of diplomacy before the concept had been born, but

8   Introduction also opening a way into understanding it? In his second dissertation, written in the mid-eighties for Jacques-Alain Miller, Slavoj Žižek discusses Holbein’s skull in relation to Ideologiekritik. The skull, he points out, acts as the “referenceless signifier,” the point which sutures together a field of signifiers, the positive stand-in for the lack at the center of the structure. This is the point where any ideological perspective discloses its “error in perspective.” We can call this error in perspective “ideological anamorphosis.” Lacan referred several times to Holbein’s Ambassadors, because viewed from a certain angle, a shape in the foreground of the painting turns out to be a skull. A “critique of ideology” should perform a similar operation. If we look at the Guarantor of Meaning, the “phallic,” erect, extending element, from a different point of view, it reveals itself to be the mark of lack, the empty space of signification. (Žižek 2014, 200) Thus, the topic of death in diplomacy is not some secondary deviation; it does not arrive from the outside. Rather, diplomacy’s death seems to arise from within. Like Lacan’s reading of the skull in Holbein’s The Ambassadors, the topic of death in diplomacy offers a way to conduct a reading from a point of view through which this mark that at first appears as an insignificant smear reveals itself as representing something both indelible and fundamental. The theme of death thus completes the triad around which this work circulates, and together with the name and representation, it allows us to establish both the frame and scope of this study. Through this triad, it will not only be possible to ask questions about the name and thus the nature of diplomacy – including the problems regarding its birth, history, and purpose, as well as questions surrounding representation, and what the relationship of the diplomatic subject to the sovereign tells us about the functioning of diplomacy – but also, hopefully, through the same shift in perspective constitutive of Holbein’s painting, to see how all these questions can come together in the skull and how we can understand the lack that it indeed covers over. What is at stake in this work is, in other words, three questions that the study of diplomacy, in its many forms, seems incapable of answering: primarily, why diplomatic representation always seems to fail (i.e., why have we not yet achieved a perpetual, or at least a stable, peace?); second, why diplomacy always appears as an outdated form for conducting international politics (i.e., why the topic of the impending death of diplomacy has kept on returning ever since the beginning of the nineteenth century?); and finally, what constitutes the nature of diplomacy (i.e., how can we understand what diplomacy is?). These issues – which throughout the history of diplomacy studies have been treated separately – can, through a Žižekian approach, finally come together and be provided with an answer under the heading of diplomacy as an Ideological State Apparatus. In order to answer these questions, this book will be divided into four major parts. The initial one, consisting of three chapters, will serve as an introduction

Introduction   9 to the central aspects of Žižek’s philosophy and conceptual apparatus as well as answering why it is the preferred manner of approaching these problems. Thus, the initial two chapters attempt to map out the basic conceptual framework employed in order to answer the question of the nature of diplomacy. They will, thus, not only try to argue for why diplomacy must be treated in terms of what Louis Althusser called an Ideological State Apparatus, but also how we should understand Žižek’s reworking of Ideologiekritik through a reflection on Hegel’s and Freud’s respective meditations on the necessity of war. As part of this endeavor, the initial chapters will contain discussions on important concepts such as negation, fantasy, and the three clinical structures (as well as ideology in general), relating them to Lacan’s notion of discourse. The final chapter of the first part moves on to the question of the naming diplomacy. What does it mean that the term first appears in Enlightenment thinking at the time of the French Revolution and what does this tell us about its history and its functioning in ­relation to the sovereign? Thus, we will here introduce the writing of the history of diplomacy as well as how Political Science has approached the problem of diplomacy’s name through the prism of the struggle between descriptivism and anti-descriptivism: is diplomacy just a signifier connected to a specific set of descriptive features, or can the truth of the name diplomacy somehow be located at its birthplace? The three following parts of the study, Diplomacy as Archi-Politics, Diplomacy as Ultra-Politics, and Diplomacy as Post-Politics, all follow more or less the same pattern. On the one hand, each part includes an attempt to read the subjective side of diplomacy through a fictional work on ambassadors. On the other hand, the objective side of diplomacy will be studied through readings of what we might call the theory of diplomacy, which has come to define the three forms of diplomacy that are to be investigated. Part II of this study will, thus, focus on Henry James’ The Ambassadors and Immanuel Kant’s Perpetual Peace, as examples of the archi-political form of diplomacy that arises with the French Revolution. The goal is to show how diplomacy is created, not as a radical critique of the monarch and the ancien régime, but as a defense against the threat of the people’s revolutionary power. Here, the point is, through these readings, to show how already, from its inception, diplomacy is haunted by a certain instability, which returns as symptoms in those discourses that address it. As we will see, these symptoms force diplomacy into a neurotic structure, haunted by the denial of the problem that defines it. Part III of the study will focus on the first proclamations of the death of diplomacy, starting already a few decades after its birth, in the middle of the nineteenth century, and culminating around the time of the Second World War. To understand why diplomacy is dying, but also how it is reborn, this part will include a reading of André Brink’s The Ambassador together with the two strands of International Relations-theory dominating the study of diplomacy throughout the Cold War, Classical Realism and the English School. What is constituted in diplomacy as ultra-politics is the dream of a return to Old ­Diplomacy, a fantasy which allows for it to disavow the threat of the people by

10   Introduction externalizing and radicalizing the political antagonism into a diplomatic opposition. The only savior within such a fantasy is a new, potent Master, able to revive the diplomacy of old. The aim of this second part is thus to illustrate how diplomacy, in its second incarnation, takes on a perverted form, defined in and through a disavowal of the very antagonism at its heart. The fourth and final part will move on to the situation in diplomacy following the fall of the Soviet Union and rapid globalization and technological development, as well as the rise of what appear as new threats – such as populism and terrorism – afflicting diplomacy. This part will include a reading of Mads Brügger’s The Ambassador and the theoretical understanding of diplomacy dominating the subfield of IR-theory known as Diplomacy Studies, in order to understand how diplomacy as post-politics is constituted. Possible to define as a mode of rejection, post-political diplomacy takes on a psychotic structure, meaning that no symptom appears in the symbolic field. Instead, as we will see, constituted as a whole without any possible outside, diplomacy appears as if it is under constant threat from the irrational and violent return in the Real and thus haunted by a paranoid fear of the other. Hence, in this final part, the aim is to capture how diplomacy’s last configuration, although constructed as if it would be able to solve any issue that confronts it, still fails because of the antagonism that always returns. In the end, what this work aims to perform is, at the most basic level, to answer the perhaps naïve ontological question, “What is diplomacy?,” in a profoundly Žižekian way, thus also providing a solution to the three recurring ­problems of diplomacy: death, the name, and representation. What this entails is not only to provide an understanding of the discursive formations that make up the object known as diplomacy, but also to locate “the kernel of enjoyment” – the impossible gap – that constitutes and sustains diplomacy but also ultimately makes diplomacy impossible.

Bibliography Demosthenes, 1926. “De falsa legatione.” In Vince, C.  A., Vince, J.  H. (Trans.), De corona. De falsa legatione: XVIII, XIX. Harvard University Press, Cambridge, Mass. “Diplomatie.” 1798. In Dictionnaire de l’Academie française. Tome premier: A–K, 5th ed., 426. Paris: Chez J. J. Smits et Cinquème Imp-Lib. Garden, Guillaume de. 1833. Traité complet de diplomatie, ou théorie générale des relations extérieures des puissances de l’Europe, tome premier. Paris: Librarie de Treuttel et Würtz. Hervey, Mary F. S. 1900. Holbein’s Ambassadors: The Picture and the Men. London: George Bell and Sons. Hotman, Jean. 1603. L’ambassadeur. [unknown]: [unknown]. Jönsson, Christer. 2012. “Theorising Diplomacy.” In Routledge Handbook of Diplomacy and Statecraft, edited by B. J. C. McKercher, 15–28. New York, NY: Routledge. Kessler, Marie-Christine. 2012. Les ambassadeurs. Paris: Presses de Sciences Po. Lacan, Jacques. 1998. The Seminar, Book XI: The Four Fundamental Concepts of Psychoanalysis, 1964. Edited by Jacques-Alain Miller. Translated by Alan Sheridan. New York, NY: W. W. Norton & Co.

Introduction   11 Le Brun, Jean-Baptiste-Pierre. 1793. Galerie des peintres flamands, hollandais et allemands: tome premier. Paris: L’Auteur/Poignant. Merram-Webster online dictionary: www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/apparatus Sharp, Paul. 1997. “Who Needs Diplomats? The Problems of Diplomatic Representation.” International Journal 52 (4): 609–34. https://doi.org/10.2307/40203245. Žižek, Slavoj. 2014. The Most Sublime Hysteric: Hegel with Lacan. Translated by Thomas Scott-Railton. Cambridge, Mass.: Polity.

Part I

What is in a name?

1 War and diplomacy

War and diplomacy The immediate purpose of this first part of the study is not only to lay out the theoretical foundation by which we shall approach diplomacy as such, but also to present the arguments for why the path we shall be taking is to be considered the most appropriate for answering the question regarding the nature of diplomacy. Following the outline of the problem presented in the introduction, this work constitutes an attempt to prove two hypotheses: first and foremost that diplomacy is a fundamentally modern invention, and second that diplomacy is an Ideological State Apparatus (ISA) supporting “the reproduction of the relations of production” (Althusser 2008, 7) by displacing the inherent antagonism that pertains to the modern liberal-democratic state. In contemporary Diplomacy Studies, the first hypothesis certainly brings with it an air of times past, harking back to those IR scholars and historians of the post-war era who defined diplomacy as the cooperation or negotiation between nation-states locked within relations of mutual recognition, a system assumed to have arisen during the Early Renaissance. However, this standard definition, central to, for instance, twentieth-­ century Realism and Institutionalism, is overturned by the second hypothesis, namely that diplomacy is an ISA, meaning that the connection between modernity and diplomacy has very little to do with the way in which nation-states relate to something external (be it another nation-state, an NGO, a multinational company, etc.), implying rather that diplomacy’s primary function is internal to the nation-state. Furthermore, despite the potential for complicating the joint history of diplomacy and modernity as it was told during most of the twentiethcentury, the second hypothesis might initially appear as counter-intuitive, almost foreign to the theme of diplomacy. Most notably, the notion of an ISA seems out of place in the realm of international politics since, at least in the traditional Marxist understanding, a state apparatus constitutes the “execution and intervention ‘in the interests of the ruling classes’ in the class struggle conducted by the bourgeoisie and its allies against the proletariat” within the state (Althusser 2008, 11). Could, then, diplomacy really be defined as a state apparatus – repressive or ideological – acting within the bounds of a state in order to minimize the risk of a proletarian uprising? In other words, could diplomacy be said to work in the

16   What is in a name? same way as, for instance, the apparatuses of education, law or religion, keeping the citizen in place, either through force or through offering a subject position in the service of a certain ideology? This work attempts to be an exercise in rather than on Žižekian thought, and as such the ensuing chapter will follow none of the more traditional forms for presenting the approach of one’s study. Having said this, it will be incumbent upon us to offer some reflections on certain elements of Žižek’s thought that can be identified as opening up the possibility for rethinking the nature of diplomacy, beginning with, on the one hand, Hegel’s and Freud’s respective understandings of the necessity of war and, on the other, Lacan’s comments on the diplomat in his eleventh seminar. Beginning with the most fundamental aspects of Žižek’s ontology, the aim is to proceed dialectically between the different concepts until we reach the level of ideology. As such, we will initially pass through the concepts of Vorstellungsrepräsentanz and its primordial repression, bringing us to the “barred subject,” its spectral counterpart, the objet a, and their joined formulation in a “fantasy” under a “Master Signifier.” This basic structure will then, in the following chapter, be related to Žižek’s critique of Althusser’s understanding of “ideology” and the “Ideological State Apparatus,” highlighting the Freudian “negations” and the idea of the “forgetting of the political” that Žižek finds in Rancière’s thought. Finally, these concepts will all be tied together through Žižek’s reading of Lacan’s theory of the “four discourses.” In the third chapter of this part, these structures will be applied to the first of diplomacy’s problems: that of the name. Taken together, the immediate aim of this first chapter is to provide two things: on the one hand an interpretation of Žižek’s concept of politics and ontology that will act as the background against which diplomacy will be understood and, on the other, a presentation of the basic concepts and procedures that are required when undertaking a Žižekian Ideologiekritik. In order to provide an answer to what, for this project, are unavoidable questions regarding diplomacy and its problems, let us begin with two undoubtedly modern reflections on another concept which has, ever since the formulation of the word diplomacy, constituted its counterpart: war. These two reflections, by Freud and Hegel respectively, give an insight into the immanent nature of something which appears to concern a fundamentally external relationship, the war between nation-states. Our primary reflection hails from 1931, when the International Commission on Intellectual Cooperation (a branch of the then League of Nations) approached Albert Einstein with the offer to organize a scholarly exchange with an intellectual on a topic of his choosing. Einstein accepted the offer and chose to approach the topic of war and peace with Sigmund Freud as his partner, even though the two men had at the time only met once. In his answer to Einstein’s question regarding possible ways of decreasing the risk of war, Freud began by presenting a tale of the origins of society which in many ways echoed that of social contract theory: in some distant past, individuals stood against each other with only the strongest or the most intelligent surviving this violent encounter. Freud tells us that as knowledge and intelligence increasingly

War and diplomacy   17 gained the upper-hand over brute force, the era of everyone’s war against everyone eventually came to an end when a small group of individuals made the choice to come together to live under one common law, giving up a little piece of their freedom in exchange for the protection and security offered by the community. However, in contrast to most social contract theorists, Freud concludes that the formulation of the law failed to bring with it the end of violence. Instead, it implicitly transformed it: The situation is simple so long as the community consists only of a number of equally strong individuals. The laws of such an association will determine the extent to which, if the security of communal life is to be guaranteed, each individual must surrender his personal liberty to turn his strength to violent uses. But a state of rest of that kind is only theoretically conceivable. In actuality the position is complicated by the fact that from its very beginning the community comprises elements of unequal strength – men and women, parents and children – and soon, as a result of war and conquest, it also comes to include victors and vanquished, who turn into masters and slaves. The justice of the community then becomes an expression of the unequal degrees of power obtaining within it; the laws are made by and for the ruling members and find little room for the rights of those in subjection. (Freud 1964, 205–206) So, as Freud continues, the fact that a society in practice never consists solely of equals means that, on the one hand, the leaders will always attempt to move beyond or transform the law in order to secure their grip on power, while those oppressed by the same law will attempt to change the entire fabric of society by appealing to the claim that they are turning “unequal justice to equal justice for all.” It is owing to these conflicts of interest that, according to Freud, war becomes an eventual outcome, both within as well as between different communities. As a consequence “the attempt to replace actual force by the force of ideas,” replacing violence with the law, is doomed to fail since “the law was originally brute violence and […] even today it cannot do without the support of violence” (Freud 1964, 209). When exploring the reason behind this destructive tendency, Freud introduces the only theoretical concept that appears in his answer to Einstein: the death drive. It is, as he explains, the theory of the death drive that clarifies this duality of the law, acting both on an external object (the subject’s destructive instinct to destroy this object) and internally on the subject itself, in terms of self-destruction. Therefore, the only hope for a future sustainable peace that appears within the Freudian horizon is that the work of civilization – i.e., the internalization of the death drive – carries on unabated. In the end, Freud nevertheless remains vague on the question of whether or not it is actually possible to eradicate war from the world. The reason for a certain reticence lay in the fact that the difficulties of avoiding war arise from an impasse in the organizing principle of the state itself. Thus, rather than in the clash of aims, goals or interests between states, conflict is driven by an immanent

18   What is in a name? destructive tendency that forces states into either war or self-destruction. Such an understanding of conflict evokes one of the most famous dictums made by Hegel, namely that war is necessary. War, Hegel explains, should not be regarded as an absolute evil [Übel] and as a purely external contingency whose cause [Grund] is therefore in itself contingent, whether this cause lies in the passions of rulers or nations [Völker], in injustices etc., or in anything else which is not as it should be. Whatever is by nature contingent is subject to contingencies, and this fate is therefore itself a necessity […]. (2015, §324) So, any actually existing war is, according to Hegel, an event born out of, and thus dependent on, external contingencies, such as the desires and cravings of kings and republics to increase their territory or destroy their enemies. But how can war be necessary if it is only the effect of a number of contingent circumstances? Hegel’s explanation is that, [s]ince states function as particular entities in their mutual relations, the broadest view of these relations will encompass the ceaseless turmoil not just of external contingency, but also of passions, interests, ends, talents and virtues, violence [Gewalt], wrongdoing, and vices in their inner particularity. (2015, §340) What the claim of the necessity of war thus entails is neither simply a pure realist description of functions nor an idealist normative injunction, but is an ontological postulate regarding the constitution of the state as such. Hence, the reason why war is necessary is not, according to Hegel, to be found in the positive, external contingencies, but in the internal gap of the state itself, its “inner particularity,” the constitutive negativity that, in the end, makes war unavoidable. The name for this self-relating negativity in Hegel’s Elements of the Philosophy of Right is the rabble (der Pöbel). With this notion, Hegel refers to the same sub-set of the population that Freud was to address just over a century later, namely those factions who through their move beyond the law threaten to destroy the state (thereby creating the need for war as a way of externalizing this threat). Hegel writes: In Athens, the law obliged every citizen to give an account of his means of support; the view nowadays is that this is a purely private matter. On the one hand, it is true that every individual has an independent existence [ist jedes Individuum für sich]; but on the other, the individual is also a member of the system of civil society, and just as every human being has a right to demand a livelihood from society, so also must society protect him against himself. It is not just starvation which is at stake here; the wider viewpoint is the need to prevent a rabble from emerging. Since civil society is obliged

War and diplomacy   19 to feed its members, it also has the right to urge them to provide for their own livelihood. (2015, §240) In one way or another, the emerging rabble threatens to undermine the social fabric of the state, either like the rich rabble, which “pulls itself out of many things and unbinds itself from them,” by pitting “its sovereign command of purely economical power against the sovereignty of the state and its institutions,” or like the poor rabble, “the impoverished masses that cannot ensure their subsistence” (Ruda 2013, 37–38, 62), by pointing out how society has failed to uphold its side of the social contract in not providing an opportunity to sustain oneself through labor. What Hegel lays out in the comparison between Athens and the modern state is the inherent antagonism in contemporary society, wherein every subject is assumed to be an individual, responsible for his or her own destiny. However, in order to subsist, this individual must become a part of the whole of society. The process through which the individual and society ­co-constitute each other is labor, meaning that society must offer the possibility for the subject to sustain itself through labor, and the subject, in turn, is obliged to partake in society through the act of laboring. Hegel expands on this apropos the poor rabble: When a large mass of people sinks below the level of a certain standard of living – which automatically regulates itself at the level necessary for a member of the society in question – that feeling of right, integrity [Recht­ lichkeit], and honour which comes from supporting oneself by one’s own activity and work is lost. This leads to the creation of a rabble, which in turn makes it much easier for disproportionate wealth to be concentrated in a few hands. (2015, §244) The poor and the rich rabble thus constitute two sides of the same coin, emerging from an inherent impossibility of the state: they both lose their sense of belonging since they either cannot, or do not have to (because of their wealth), support themselves through labor. Thus, a rabble emerges not because of any external or contingent reasons; the rabble (in)exists as an internal negation of the bourgeois state: “The poor, by being deprived of participation in an estate, is no longer something, but is rather a nothing that surfaces within civil society” (Ruda 2013, 32). Ruda summarizes Hegel’s problem of the rabble thus: The decisive thesis is as follows: from a certain historical-logical moment in the necessary economical development onwards, civil society cannot grant everyone the access to labor and therewith the autonomous assurance of ­subsistence. This historical moment is the becoming-industrial of labor in the factory in which the machine takes the place of the human being. If the dynamics of civil society is untrammeled in its effects it produces a constantly

20  What is in a name? enlarged population and at the same time a constantly diminished possibility of maintaining subsistences. (2013, 12) So, what the state faces in and through the unavoidable emergence of a rabble is its own inherent negation. It is neither something nor nothing, but a less than nothing; in Žižek’s words, it is “the inscription of this redoubling of the lack, not simply the lacking object – a nothing where there should have been something – but the object that redoubles the lack and is thus a paradoxical something subtracted from nothing” (2014a, 331). The rabble, in opposition to a people as a positive existence qua this or that particular group, represents a confrontation with the state’s own limit. And it is in relation to this immanent negativity that the problem of war appears; in order to retain its identity as a unified whole, the state is forced to negate this immanent negation and through this externalizes the internal threat. Hegel writes: In existence [Dasein] this negative relation [Beziehung] of the state to itself thus appears as the relation of another to another, as if the negative were something external. The existence [Existenz] of this negative relation therefore assumes the shape of an event, of an involvement with contingent occurrences coming from without. Nevertheless, this negative relation is the state’s own highest moment – its actual infinity as the ideality of everything finite within it. (2015, §323) The necessity of engaging in a relation with the other through war is not an outcome of the fact that a fragile balance is at a certain point inevitably toppled because the desires and power of one of the parties become impossible to contain. Rather, it is owing to an impossibility that lurks at the very heart of the modern nation-state, which only “appears as the relation of another to another.” War is necessary in order to retain “the ethical health of nations […], just as the movement of the winds preserves the sea from stagnation which a lasting calm would produce – a stagnation which a lasting, not to say a perpetual, peace would also produce among nations” (Hegel 2015, §324). So, even if the circumstances regarding the outbreak of any specific historical war always are contingent, war is a necessary outcome of every state’s need to externalize its inherent negation, that is, the threat posed by both the rich and the poor rabble to its law. But since war is aimed at conservation rather than destruction, it must also, at one point, be succeeded by a return to the matters immanent to the state. In other words, it is important, as Hegel puts it, to “preserve the possibility of peace” even in war, “so that, for example, ambassadors should be respected and war should on no account be waged either on internal institutions and the peace of private and family life, or on private individuals” (2015, §338). It is here, precisely in Hegel’s comments on the relationship between war and peace, that we are afforded the possibility of developing a new understanding of diplomacy that

War and diplomacy   21 categorically breaks with the traditional image by emphasizing diplomacy’s role as an ISA and thus as part of a specifically modern configuration of the state, and not as traditionally conceived, as the practice of avoiding, mediating or at least lessening the destructive impact of war by stabilizing the fragile balance between states. But to accomplish this, we need to begin by working out the consequences of this Freudo-Hegelian depiction of war by illustrating how it appears within Slavoj Žižek’s understanding of the political. Before doing so, though, it is perhaps important to air a possible critique that could be leveled at the very foundation of this project: the application of psychoanalytic concepts and theories to the realm of the political. Here it is tempting to adopt a Socratic line of defense by means of apophasis. Accordingly, an answer to such an accusation might point out the many lines of argument that could be gathered to counter accusations of psychological reductionism – for example, one could follow Žižek and point to the structural relationship between politics and psychoanalysis as analogous to a parallax view in which “psychoanalysis opens up the gap before the act, while politics already sutures the gap” (2012, 963) or, like many others, follow Freud’s own work on group psychology and the relationship between culture and the individual psyche, such as Civilization and its Discontents, or finally, like Samo Tomšič, follow the homology between Marxist surplus-value and Lacanian surplus-jouissance (2015). Ultimately, though, the critique is misdirected since the aim is not to argue for a psychoanalytic reading of politics in general but to work out the consequences of what appears as Žižek’s schematic and scattered application of Lacanian thought and the salience they have for this analysis of diplomacy. In other words, we treat the accusation of psychological reductionism as having already been dealt with by a myriad of thinkers in a satisfactory way. What is at stake here is rather the working out of the systematicity behind Žižek’s approach and how it can be applied to the topic at hand. As such, this study will make reference not only to Lacanian psychoanalysis but also to other philosophical theories and concepts, which, nonetheless, are always interpreted through the system provided by, and extracted from, Žižek’s thought. The philosophical work of Slavoj Žižek provides, then, the main perspective through which this attempt to answer the question of the nature of diplomacy is approached. Often accused of being more of a reader of philosophy, offering scattered interpretations rather than a unified philosophical system, it is important here to provide a general understanding of the contours of Žižek’s philosophical project. Following Hegel, Žižek often repeats the claim that the opposition of war and peace is a necessary internal relation of one state rather than a contingent external relation between several states. For the specific purposes of this study, this means that any adumbration of Žižek’s philosophical project must be presented with a certain emphasis on his understanding of the political and its relationship to ideology as the structure through which a certain order is preserved by forgetting the impossibility of the One. To do this, we will begin with two ideas already introduced: the Freudian death drive and the Hegelian necessity of war. We shall treat them as two different attempts at capturing the

22  What is in a name? same excess of the immanent antagonism, the pivot around which this entire work revolves. In the introduction added to the second edition of For They Know Not What They Do: Enjoyment as Political Factor, Žižek points out the failures of his first book in English, the immensely popular The Sublime Object of Ideology, as inescapably linked to his inability to properly treat this excess. Thus, the further elimination of the “dangerous residues of bourgeois ideology” that his first book harbored must, according to Žižek, be active on “three ­interconnected levels: the clarification of my Lacanian reading of Hegel; the elaboration of the concept of act, and a palpable critical distance towards the very notion of democracy” (2008a, xviii). At the heart of each of these three levels is the question of the status of the void, the self-relating negativity which, as we saw, also underpins the Hegelian understanding of the necessity of war and the Freudian death drive. Žižek writes: There are two fundamentally different ways for us to relate to the Void […]. We can posit the Void as the impossible-real Limit of the human experience which we can approach only indefinitely, the absolute Thing toward which we have to maintain a proper distance – if we get too close to it we are burnt by the sun.… Or we posit it as that through which we should (and, in a way, even always-already have) pass(ed.) – that is the gist of the Hegelian notion of “tarrying with the negative”, which Lacan expressed in his own notion of the deep connection between death-drive and creative sublimation: in order for (symbolic) creation to take place, the death-drive (Hegelian self-relating absolute negativity) has to accomplish its work of, precisely, emptying the place, and thus making it ready for creation. Instead of the old notion of phenomenal objects disappearing/dissolving in the vortex of the Thing, we get objects which are nothing but the Void of the Thing embodied – or, in Hegelese, object in which negativity assumes a positive existence. (2008a, xxx) It is this shift or passage “from Kant to Hegel” that not only defines the way in which Žižek pinpoints the failures of his earlier work, but also captures how, during the decade following the appearance of the second edition of For They Know Not What They Do, he has labored to expand on the consequences for his understanding of the political and of ontology as such. At its most fundamental, this is a question of the possibility of a dialectical materialism, the “overcoming of the transcendental dimension or the gap that separates subject from object” (Žižek 2014a, 12), addressing the problem of why there is something and not just nothing and, in relation to this, how it is possible to understand the relationship between the subject and ideology and what appears as the perpetual reproduction of the organization of the capitalist means of production. In other words, at its most basic, the Lacanian Hegel of Žižek is possible to define through a shift in the understanding of the necessity of war, that is, a shift that moves away from a school-book Hegelian reading of this claim as an example of actual infinity to a Žižekian emphasis on the necessity of war as a formal or spurious

War and diplomacy   23 infinity. This means that the externalization of the immanent antagonism that defines war is not the final “ideality of everything finite within it,” but rather it serves as further proof that “social reconciliation is doomed to fail, that no organic social order can effectively contain the force of abstract universal ­negativity” (Žižek 2012, 450). For diplomacy, this fundamental change of perspective might, once again, be illustrated through the concept of mediation: instead of understanding diplomacy as the mediation of diverging or even opposing desires of states (perhaps able to reach a full overlapping of desires or simply stuck in a perpetual repetition of its failure), this view might allow us to perceive how the external relationship is simply a secondary (unavoidable) deviation of a necessarily internal mediation. What we are attempting here is, in other words, a parallactic shift following what Žižek describes as an “ideological anamorphosis”: by looking at the “guarantor of meaning,” the point de capiton or Master Signifier holding together a specific field of meaning (in this case diplomacy) from awry, the hope is to show how it “reveals itself to be the mark of a lack, the empty space of signification” (Žižek 2014b, 200). But how are we to understand the relationship between the lack, the Master Signifier, and the political? The shift from true to spurious infinity in Žižek’s reading of Hegel can be understood through the Lacanian emphasis on the impossibility of the harmonious whole. Thus, even the possibility of imagining a political utopia – from the Lacanian perspective – is born out of a constitutive impossibility, the fact that the subject is not only always faced with a barred One, but that this subject initially emerged as an answer to the One’s failure. For Žižek, to define a properly political act must, in other words, be undertaken in relation to the social antagonism of the barred One, that is, of carefully working out the predicaments of that which is excluded – what, following Rancière, Žižek calls the part of no-part, an “element for which there is no proper place in the structure,” but which, nevertheless, negatively defines it (Žižek 2016, 27). The structural necessity of this part is dependent on Žižek’s understanding of the void, not as a limit beyond which our finite perspective falters but as an immanent antagonism making the One impossible. This part of (for instance) society, which, deploying a Hegelian formula, he calls “concrete universality,” is “not so much some ­universal feature shared by all its elements but rather a gap, antagonism or obstacle which holds this field together” (Žižek 2016, 18). The One is, in other words, always split at its core by an impossible impasse, and the move from this nothing to something is, for Žižek, only made possible because not even nothing is able to “achieve full identity with itself,” it is shot through with an antagonism which returns to haunt it (2016, 10). Nothing is, in other words, “the self-relating negativity” which resides at the core of every symbolic structure, including that of the state, constituting the social antagonism that makes it simultaneously ­possible and impossible. But what are the consequences of the shift from true to spurious infinity for diplomacy? The following sections will aim at working out this question: where to place diplomacy? To do this, it is important to understand the connection it has with the necessity of war and the death drive and

24   What is in a name? how these are linked to the conservation of the idea of the complete One by externalizing a self-relating negativity. The displacement of an immanent impossibility onto another field would, in Žižekian parlance, place us, and thus diplomacy, in the field of ideology, since “[t]his passage [from internal to external] clearly implies the intervention of the symbolic order: it can take place only when the One, the ideal unity of a thing beyond its real properties, is again embodied, materialized, externalized in its signifier” (Žižek 2008a, 51). Hence, the diplomatic signifier must be linked to the displacement or Urverdrängung of the impossibility of the primordial one, the inexistent Vorstellungsrepräsentanz, that founds any ideological structure. But what does it mean that the externalization also implies a displacement, and can we imagine that there exist different forms of this displacement? In order to provide the concepts necessary to answer these questions, let us begin with one that brings together diplomacy and the figure of the impossible One, the Vorstellungsrepräsentanz.

The cough of the diplomat In order to understand Žižek’s thought, it can be helpful to begin by focusing on the functioning of lack and the relationship between the subject and representation. By focusing on the figure of the diplomat, the aim of this part is to extract how the lack, the subject, and representation intersect in the concept of Vorstellungsrepräsentanz. Although only used once by Freud, Vorstellungsrepräsentanz plays a central role in Lacan’s important eleventh seminar, held in 1964. For Freud, the concept is linked to repression, and thus, to use a Žižekian formulation, to the unknown-knowns of the subject (Freud understands it as the ideational representative of a biological instinct, a delegate representing this instinct in the unconscious). In Lacan, on the other hand, the concept is radicalized, most notably through a connection with the aphanisis or the disappearing of the subject. What this means is that Vorstellungsrepräsentanz does not simply point out that the subject is incapable of consciously knowing its instincts (only encountering them through a representative), but also that it constitutes a concept which, by consisting of two terms, simultaneously captures both the possibility and the impossibility of the subject itself (Lacan 1998, 216–222). Instead of representing some unknown x, the Vorstellungsrepräsentanz is “that which takes the place of the representation” (Lacan 1998, 60). It does this in order to fill in for the original, failed, representation. Hence, Vorstellungsrepräsentanz must be divided into, on the one hand, Vorstellung, presentation or representation (but also, in the reflexive form, imagining) and, on the other, Repräsentanz, a representative or a delegate. The function of this doubling should be read as a shift from epistemology to ontology, meaning that we go from empty representation (Vorstellung) in which some secret core of the represented object is repressed and remains unknown to us, to the representative of representation (Repräsentanz) which exists solely as a stand in for the failure of pure representation, covering over the lack or displacing the impossible object. Hence, what we can call the primordial Vorstellungsrepräsentanz includes two

War and diplomacy  25 negations: first, the repression of the failure to directly represent the object and, secondly, the signifier which, through taking up this empty place, negates and thus displaces this impossible object by offering a myriad of other objects in its stead. In other words: “[T]he moment we are within a signifying order, the impossibility of the One appears as the impossibility of the Two, of a signifier that would be the One’s differential counterpart” (Žižek 2017, 25). In this move between the lack of original representation and the abundance appearing in the stead of this failure, what Lacan calls “the dialectic of the subject” is established, through which it simultaneously appears and vanishes, showing how it is not simply the failure of what the subject can know about the world, but the fact that the subject is nothing but this failure. The doubling in this sense means that “what is repressed is not the represented of desire, the signification, but the representative – I translated literally – of the representation” (Lacan 1998, 217, 221). But how are we to understand this representative? Here, Lacan turns to the topic of diplomacy, using the diplomat as the embodiment of the representative aspect of a signifier: We mean by representatives what we understand when we use the phrase, for example, the representatives of France. What do diplomats do when they address one another? They simply exercise, in relation to one another, that function of being pure representatives and, above all, their own signification must not intervene. When diplomats are addressing one another, they are supposed to represent something whose signification, while constantly changing, is, beyond their own persons, France, Britain, etc. In the very exchange of views, each must record only what the other transmits in his pure function as signifier, he must not take into account what the other person is, qua presence, as a man who is likeable to a greater or lesser degree. Interpsychology is an impurity in this exchange. (1998, 220) So, as a Repräsentanz, the diplomat is supposed to be a pure sign, whose presence should not be taken into account. Moreover, since the object represented by the diplomat is the will of a Master, every act only becomes meaningful as a message from this sovereign. However, as Lacan points out, this unified One in the guise of a Master does not exist, there is no single will of the state, opening up the question of what the representative actually represents. Despite this uncertainty, the diplomat is still able to produce meaning, since, as Žižek puts it, “whatever he does is read as a message from his country to the country in which he is posted – if, at a big diplomatic conference, he coughs, this is interpreted as softly indicating his state’s doubt about the measures debated at the conference, and so on” (2009, 148). Since the impossibility of pure representation is repressed, the diplomatic subject here takes on the role of producing a never-ending stream of possible meanings in its stead until every part of the envoy’s life, even involuntary bodily functions, must be read as part of the Master’s message (we have to assume that the cough signifies the Master’s doubt rather

26   What is in a name? than, for instance, his acceptance). This lack of an original unitary signifier capable of bringing the field of signifiers together in a harmonious way is thus what makes the interpretation of the diplomat’s cough possible. Otherwise, if the Master’s will had existed, no interpretative act of the cough would have been necessary. But since this will does not exist, we are forced to assume that every aspect of the representative’s appearance can be inscribed with a certain meaning. Through this, a subject appears in the cough (it must have meant something), but since it is only an appearance in a lack, it also makes the same subject disappear somewhere else (a positive comment would, in the light of the cough, perhaps be dismissed as ironic). In other words: the lack of proper signification, what is ultimately the lack of the big Other, hystericizes the onlooker, instigating a desperate search for meaning. What makes this entire structure possible is thus the gap, the fact that the ­original Vorstellungsrepräsentanz is “primordially repressed” is what makes it possible to introduce a new Master Signifier, supposedly taking on the role of meaning itself and thus reorganizing the existing field of signifiers. The repression of the Vorstellungsrepräsentanz is what gives rise to a Master-Signifier, a point de capiton, displacing this original lack. Looked at from the right angle, this is what the onlooker mistakes for truth in the diplomat’s discourse. Such a reorganization is, however, never complete, since it always includes the fundamental lack showing itself as symptoms in the discourse, derived from the fact that the big Other and jouissance, law and full desire, never fully overlap. In this field, the diplomatic subject is one of the appearances, representing the Master Signifier, with the cough signaling a split, not between the diplomat as, on the one hand, an actual person – with certain desires, dreams, hopes as well as problems, shortcomings, and, perhaps, colds – and his or her status as, on the other, a representative, but between the role as empty signifier (representative of a lack), and that which appears to us (the cough). As such, the diplomat, as Žižek points out, “is the witness of an ‘impersonal’ Truth” (2009, 149): the envoy’s formal function as empty signifier reveals the actual structure of the subject of the unconscious, thereby representing “pure difference.” That is to say, the ontological status of the subject is that of a zero, void, so its signifier can only be a signifier designating a lack – or, to paraphrase Hegel, subject is not a substance which withdraws/appears; subject is appearance (appearing-to-itself) which autonomizes itself and becomes an agent against its own substantiality. The subject’s self-withdrawal or split is thus much more radical than the self-withdrawal of every object split between its appearance (in interaction with other objects) and its substantial content, its withdrawn In-itself: subject is not just split like every object between its phenomenal qualities (actualizations) and its inaccessible virtual In-itself; subject is divided between its appearance and the void in the core of its being, not between appearance and its hidden substantial ground. It is only against this background that one can understand in what sense subject effectively “is” an object: since subject is the self-appearing of nothing, its

War and diplomacy   27 “objective correlate” can only be a weird object whose nature is to be the embodiment of nothing, an “impossible” object, an object the entire being of which is an embodiment of its own impossibility, the object called by Lacan objet a. In order to conceive this status of objet a, we have to accomplish a move from lacking object to object which stands for the lack, which gives body to it – only this object “is” subject. (Žižek 2016, 43) The cough of the subject should thus be understood as an appearance, not as copying or covering over some original meaning or object but, precisely, as standing in for the lack. What must be abandoned is, therefore, the idea that the cough actually has a true meaning: the only thing we are confronted with in the cough is the void of the diplomatic subject, inciting an endless stream of possible interpretations, constantly filling in the gap between the inexistent Master and the failure of full desire. It is this repetition of the failure of the coincidence of full law and full desire that Lacan calls jouissance. Nevertheless, as soon as meaning appears in the cough, we find ourselves, as Žižek often notes apropos the concept of interpretation in psychoanalysis, in the realm of desire, and thus in fantasy. A fantasy is that which accounts for the gap itself, providing an explanation for this failure and thus also for the status of the subject, by relating this split of the subject () to the lacking object of desire (a). Hence, the cough of the diplomatic subject fills the same role as the skull in Holbein’s The Ambassadors; they both constitute this weird appearance of meaning covering over the internal gap, allowing for the onlooker to construct a fantasy in which a harmonious social relationship can be imagined. If we return to the question of the nature of diplomacy, we can, on the basis of Lacan’s depiction of the diplomat in the eleventh seminar, sketch the ­fundamental lines of Žižek’s understanding of the critique of ideology. If the “impersonal Truth” that the diplomat uncovers is precisely this impossibility of the unifying Vorstellungsrepräsentanz, the fact that it is always split, not between two positives but between two varieties of nothing, our aim should be to reach this “void at the heart of truth” (Žižek 2014b, 101). To accomplish this, we need to understand the function of the Master Signifier as organizing a specific field, and the place of the “object that is the subject” that covers over the return of this void by creating a reassuring fantasy of the proper relationship between the subject () and its objectal counterpart (a). It is this returning void that marks the necessity of war or, for Freud, the death drive: the destructive force that repeats in different guises. [T]he death drive is not one among the (partial) drives, but refers to an active split or declination within every drive. The death drive points to the negativity around which different partial drives circulate, and which they – in this sense – have in common. This is the split inherent to all drives as such, which is not simply the same as the split of the drives from organic functions. […] In other words, as object of the drive objet a is always and

28   What is in a name? necessarily double: it is a surplus satisfaction as sticking to the void (to the gap in the order of being); that is to say, it is the void and its “crust” – which is also why partial objects function as “representatives” of this void. (Zupančič 2017, 102–103) What this investigation into the nature of diplomacy aims to illustrate is precisely how this crust of diplomacy, this myriad of objects, seems to cover over a lack and, at the same time, supplies diplomacy with a certain jouissance, “sticking to the void.” What we will see, in other words, is the formation of the representatives of the void, and the diplomatic worlds by which these subjects and objects are in turn formed. Only in this way will it be possible to close in on the kernel of enjoyment that not only sustains diplomacy but also constantly threatens to undermine it, “since the path towards death is nothing other than what is called jouissance” (Lacan 2007, 18). However, this gap can only be spotted when looked at from a specific angle, so that the gap itself appears between the two complementary sides, allowing us to avoid the risk of getting stuck in the endless debate regarding the meaning of the cough. Holbein’s skull, thus, illustrates precisely this, revealing “itself to be the mark of lack, the empty space of signification” (Žižek 2014b, 200), an element standing in for a lack, the counterpart of the subject and the object of desire. Thus, the impossibility of the primordial One, the Vorstellungsrepräsentanz, is what gives birth both to the subject (the diplomat) and its counterpart, the fantasmatic object (the cough). But since it arises from an initial lack, they cannot represent anything. Hence, the problem of the diplomat’s cough points to the themes of diplomacy introduced in the introduction: death, name, and representation. Primarily, the question to be inquired into is about the gap, which accounts for the slips in representation, but which at the same time is transmitted without being accounted for. Second, it points to the function of the name as that which marks the emergence of desire, doing so in a way that relates intimately to the topic of diplomacy’s death since, as soon as desire emerges in one place it vanishes from somewhere else. The transformation of Ideologiekritik undertaken by Žižek can thus be found in his claim that “the ‘secret’ to be unveiled through analysis is not the content hidden by the form (be it the form of commodities or the form of dreams) but, on the contrary, the ‘secret’ of this form itself ” (Žižek 2008b, 3). This should be read against the traditional Marxist theory of ideology, notable for its depicting of it as an ideal construct severing all links to its concrete material ground and which, in the name of truth, aims to unmask the “false consciousness” of subjects under the sway of ideological mystification. Ever since the publication of The Sublime Object of Ideology, Žižek has argued for a critique of ideology that moves beyond this symptomal reading. To this end, he has shown in what way a totalization of a metonymic field of signifiers is possible by virtue of a metaphorical cut, repressing the impossibility by offering a new, seemingly endless, field of meaning. Both the continuous metonymic sliding and the instigating operation of the cut are sustained in and through the gap, showing how the displacement offered by ideology is not simply a covering over of an impossible

War and diplomacy   29 absence, but also how it is supported by the simultaneous appearance and disappearance of the ideological subject and its objective counterpart, making the relationship between this pair integral to this study. In the next chapter we will properly introduce and explore in greater detail what we mean by naming diplomacy as an Ideological State Apparatus and once this linkage has been established how the ISA of diplomacy is to be approached.

Bibliography Althusser, Louis. 2008. “Ideology and Ideological State Apparatuses (Notes towards an Investigation).” In On Ideology, translated by Ben Brewster, 1–60. London: Verso. Freud, Sigmund. 1964. “Why War?” In The Standard Edition of the Complete Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud, Vol. XXII (1932–1936), edited by James Strachey, 203–218. London: Hogarth Press. Hegel, Georg Wilhelm Friedrich. 2015. Elements of the Philosophy of Right. Edited by Allen W. Wood. Translated by Hugh Barr Nisbet. Cambridge, Mass.: Cambridge University Press. Lacan, Jacques. 1998. The Seminar, Book XI: The Four Fundamental Concepts of Psychoanalysis, 1964. Edited by Jacques-Alain Miller. Translated by Alan Sheridan. New York, NY: W. W. Norton & Co. Lacan, Jacques. 2007. The Seminar, Book XVII: The Other Side of Psychoanalysis, 1969–1970. Edited by Jacques-Alain Miller. Translated by Russell Grigg. New York, NY: W. W. Norton & Co. Ruda, Frank. 2013. Hegel’s Rabble: An Investigation into Hegel’s Philosophy of Right. London: Bloomsbury. Tomšič, Samo. 2015. The Capitalist Unconscious: Marx and Lacan. London: Verso. Žižek, Slavoj. 2008a. For They Know Not What They Do: Enjoyment as a Political Factor. 2nd ed. London: Verso. Žižek, Slavoj. 2008b. The Sublime Object of Ideology. 2nd ed. London: Verso. Žižek, Slavoj. 2009. The Parallax View. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press. Žižek, Slavoj. 2012. Less than Nothing: Hegel and the Shadow of Dialectical Materialism. London: Verso. Žižek, Slavoj. 2014a. Absolute Recoil: Towards a New Foundation of Dialectical Materialism. London: Verso. Žižek, Slavoj. 2014b. The Most Sublime Hysteric: Hegel with Lacan. Translated by Thomas Scott-Railton. Cambridge, Mass.: Polity. Žižek, Slavoj. 2016. Disparities. London: Bloomsbury Academic. Žižek, Slavoj. 2017. Incontinence of the Void: Economico-Philosophical Spandrels. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press. Zupančič, Alenka. 2017. What Is Sex? Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press.

2 Diplomacy as an Ideological State Apparatus

Diplomacy as an Ideological State Apparatus Ideology enters the picture in the same moment as the Master Signifier externalizes the immanent antagonism, when the gap is explained through a fantasy relating the subject to its fantasmatic object. The understanding of ideology employed in this study is thus clearly far removed from the traditional Marxist conception. The aim in this section is therefore to expand on the first part, moving on from Žižek’s understanding of the Vorstellungsrepräsentanz by connecting it to his view of ideology via his critique of Louis Althusser. Here the focus will, on the one hand, be on the difference between the Vorstellungsrepräsentanz and Darstellung in Althusser and, on the other, their respective understanding of the subject, leading us to the Master Signifier as playing a formative role in the constitution of an ­ideological formation. No other theoretical development during the twentieth century facilitated the transformation and rethinking of the concept of ideology more than Louis Althusser’s Ideological State Apparatus [ISA]. His article “Ideology and Ideological State Apparatuses” from 1970 succeeded in acting as a break with many of the classical Marxist conceptions that, at that point in time, contributed to the category’s theoretical demise. Assuming for one moment that the role of ideology is to obfuscate the historical truth about the reality of material relations of production – often exemplified with Marx’s definition of ideology from the first volume of Capital: Sie wissen das nicht, aber sie tun es – the classical understanding of ideology presupposes that a capitalist subject caught in bourgeois ideology is ignorant of the fact that the relations of production effectively lead to the exploitation of the labor force. Ideology is thus only perceived as a veil obfuscating this truth through ideas – such as that of a market in which free ­individuals willingly sell and buy all commodities, including labor. Against this idea of a clear separation between, on the one hand, ideology as the false representation of the truth of relations of production and its actual base in material ­processes of reproduction, Althusser claimed that ideology also has a material side, located in apparatuses and their practices, meaning that ideology is just as much material as it is ideal:

Diplomacy as Ideological State Apparatus   31 I shall therefore say that, where only a single subject (such and such an ­individual) is concerned, the existence of the ideas of his belief is material in that his ideas are his material actions inserted into material practices governed by material rituals which are themselves defined by the material ideological apparatus from which derive the ideas of that subject. (Althusser 2008, 43) What this entails is, first and foremost, that ideology is not simply a veil, an ideal construct fashioned in an ahistorical manner to hide the truth of practice. Instead, the ideas of the ideological subject can only appear as such through the intricate web of material practices that makes up the Ideological State Apparatuses. Taking the ideology of Christianity as an example it consists just as much of kneeling down in prayer during mass as it does in belief in the omnipotence of God (the former is, for Althusser, even more important than the latter). As such, ideology is not just constituted by the subject, “the category of the subject is only constitutive of all ideology insofar as all ideology has the function (which defines it) of ­‘constituting’ concrete individuals as subjects” (Althusser 2008, 45). What Althusser points to here is, in other words, the intricate relationship between the metonymic sliding and the metaphorical cut; on the one hand an ideology needs to rely on the existence of what he calls the “Other Subject,” a nodal point materialized in the ISA which, through its function as a point of metaphorical structuration of a ­specific field, makes possible the individual subject, such as the school system educating the future work force or religious institutions forming loyal believers. On the other hand, these subjects are not simply an effect of the apparatus, since the ISA can only persist through the continued material action, the m ­ etonymical move from one signifier to the other, of the very subjects whose function is to uphold the signifying chain, e.g., by sending one’s own children to school or by showing up to mass. However, in such a rendering, the question of where to locate the origin of ideology remains unanswered. Why does ideology even appear in the first place if the relationship between the subject stuck in i­deology and the material institutions in which ideology is materialized simply consists of an eternal dialectic between the subject and the big Other? For Althusser, the need for ideology can be found in what he calls “the key epistemological concept” of Marx’s theory, namely ­Darstellung or representation, signifying the idea of “the existence of structure in its effects” (2015, 344). In other words, in the effects that make up a certain ideological representation we can, retroactively, spot a certain material structure. Entailed therein is the eternal dialectic of ideological production and reproduction that represents what is going on in the economic base. However, in order to avoid the naïve reading of ideology as a simple veil covering over this structure, ­Darstellung supposedly identifies not how the structure of this economic base is anterior to ideology, but that the structure can only be represented through the effects it produces in ideology. Althusser writes, [t]he absence of the cause in the structure’s “metonymic causality” on its effects is not the fault of the exteriority of the structure with respect to the

32   What is in a name? economic phenomena; on the contrary, it is the very form of the interiority of the structure, as a structure, in its effects. (2015, 344) As such, retaining the idea of the economic base as the “determination in the last instance” forces Althusser to pose this object as absent; “the lonely hour of the ‘last instance’ never arrives” (Althusser 2005, 113 [transl. mod.]). In other words, a primordial absent object appears as immanent in its effects, represented in and through the ISA (and the subjects it produces), but the point of its full formulation is never achieved. What the subject knows within ideology is thus not the effect of “false consciousness” covering over the truth of the economic basis. Instead, this interiority of the structure points to the limit of knowledge itself, beyond which there can only be the representation, the Darstellung, of an absent object. But the fact that there is no real outside to the ideological field (only this immanent structure present through its effects), means that Althusser’s theory runs the risk of assuming that any ISA constitutes a complete, closed system, turning individuals into “the subjects they always-already are” (2008, 50). Leaving to one side the problem of whether or not ideology, in this sense, has any relationship to truth and falsity (for example, can there be a proper way to represent an absent object?), such an understanding of the workings of ideology, perhaps more importantly, fails to answer the question of the origins of the part of the subject that resists integration. The fact that it appears as a complete whole of structural absent effects and ideological causes, forces us to ask how any gap in ideology might appear. What we are confronted with in Althusser’s understanding of ideology are the boundaries of what Mladen Dolar describes as a “clean cut” without a remainder (1993). The only limit that ideology might hit upon is the limits of its own field of knowledge. But if any ideology constitutes a complete system, how may we understand the issues we encounter with the diplomat’s cough? Since, if there is no outside, if the ISA just turns the individual into the subject that was already present, how can any hesitation arise surrounding the interpretation of anything that appears within its field? How can we encounter an object which is strangely internal at the same time as it is external – an experience that Lacan captured with the neologism “extimate”? If the ISA constitutes a whole, it should either provide this cough with a specific meaning, or immediately dismiss it as meaningless. Neither alternative is right; the cough haunts us with its in-betweenness, indicating the limits of the Althusserian understanding of Darstellung as it comes up against the Lacanian concept of Vorstellungsrepräsentanz. In the enigmatic cough of a diplomat it is possible to locate the fundamental division of subjectivity into appearance and void, into what appears as a cough and the horrifying nothingness that we encounter when examining the meaning of this cough up close. However, since the void of the cough sparks an endless stream of interpretations, this split should be linked to the Lacanian concept of fantasy, regulating the relationship between the split subject () and its counterpart, the

Diplomacy as Ideological State Apparatus   33 object-cause of desire (a); the cough is, in other words, through fantasy inscribed within a realm of meaning so that the horrifying nothingness of the diplomat is avoided. An interpretation that, for example, assumes that the diplomat’s cough signifies the Master’s discontent with the topics discussed at a summit should be understood as the most basic formulation of a subject’s ­relation to the objet a, a relation supposed to cover over the lack, and thus as a fantasy (providing the image of how our diplomat, because of rules of courtesy, cannot explicitly formulate discontent, and thus is forced to only implicitly convey it through more discreet, non-verbal signs, explaining why the object of desire cannot be directly accessed). However, in the guise of a pure signifier, the desire formulated is not presented as the diplomat’s own, rather it is a way of hiding the gap of the impossible coincidence between the Master (S1), on the one hand, and the chain of signifiers (S2) on the other, that is, it represents the failure of the Master to represent the impossible primordial One: the primordial Vorstellungsrepräsentanz. Put otherwise, the cough does not signify a hidden substance of the diplomat-subject, but a lack of the Master’s desire, the nonexistence of the big Other which thereby turns the harmonious Master’s discourse into an impossible object. So, when the Althusserian perspective is confronted with the impossibility of the coughing diplomat, we can not only see how Žižek’s critique of Althusser’s materialism highlights several issues and questions regarding diplomacy itself, but how these issues, in turn, also serve to reveal the specificity of the difference between Žižek and Althusser when it comes to the functioning of the ISA. This is why it remains important to specify that the hypothesis that diplomacy constitutes an Ideological State Apparatus must be read in a specifically Žižekian way. But besides emphasizing the lack in the subject, what more is entailed? Žižek usually formulates his critique of Althusser’s understanding of ideology in terms of his failure to follow Lacan to the end, that is, the ontologization of this epistemological impossibility of Darstellung. More specifically, Althusser’s failure, according to Žižek, lies in his inability to take into account Lacan’s claim that the signifier also has a specific materiality. What is at stake in the question of the materiality of the signifier is, for Žižek, ultimately the account of what Lacan would call the material status of the big Other. As mentioned, in Althusser’s understanding of ideology, the realm of the signifier must, in the last instance, be grounded in a material referent even though this was not supposed ever to arrive. This move upholds the difference between material institutions and our ideological sense-experience, retaining the idea of an unproblematic ultimate material determination. Two of Althusser’s own examples – often invoked by Žižek to illustrate this problem – are the tanks in the forest of Rambouillet in –68 that were essential to preserve the idea of the force of the state (ready to strike down the protestors), as well as the existence of gold stocks as the necessary material object needed to realize the circulation of value. The function that the tanks and gold serve in Althusser’s thinking is as examples of how materiality is determinant “in the last instance,” constituting the ultimate material point of ­reference for our ideological sense-experience. They are the materialization of

34   What is in a name? the absent object. Within an Althusserian structure, our ultimate recourse in order to understand the coughing diplomat is thus to assume the existence of a material object capable of interpellating and, consequently, constituting the diplomat as a representative subject from beyond the ideological realm. In other words, we would search for the kind of absent object that would, like Louis XIV, be able to claim “L’État, c’est moi!,” and through the enigmatic moi (the assumed coincidence of  and  or between Master and knowledge) the state apparatus of diplomacy would be brought into existence. But the absent king of France does not explain the inconsistencies of the diplomatic subject, since the nature of this object can only be assumed, never fully known. We would, in other words, not possess the ability to discern why the diplomat is coughing (nor why this cough provokes our anxiety). It is, however, because Žižek starts by emphasizing the specific materiality of the signifier that one understands the precise materiality at stake, one in which the real substance would evaporate within the formal structure. By rearranging the question of the status of the materiality of the signifier in diplomacy, what comes to light is a big Other that is purely “a virtual entity,” a Master Signifier, regaining a twisted form of material grounding, rather than assuming the need for a physical Master to determine the diplomatic subject. The issue of the grounding of the interpellation of the diplomat also points to another side of what Žižek calls Althusser’s failure: What remains “unthought” in Althusser’s theory of interpellation is thus the fact that, prior to ideological recognition, we have an intermediate moment of obscene, impenetrable interpellation without identification, a kind of ­vanishing mediator that has to become invisible if the subject is to achieve symbolic identity, to accomplish the gesture of subjectivization. In short, the “unthought” of Althusser is that there is already an uncanny subject that precedes the gesture of subjectivization. (Žižek 2014, 64) So if, on the one hand, we have the problem of the Master’s materiality, the other side of this critique points to the process of subjectivization, of the emergence of a diplomatic subject in relation to the primordial repression of the ­Vorstellungsrepräzentanz. The appearance of this representative subject, placed in the immanent gap of the Master Signifier between  and  – accounting for the impossible relation between Master (the sovereign as incarnation of the will of the state) and knowledge (the formulation of this will) – cannot, according to Žižek, be understood only as an effect. The deficiency of the Althusserian perspective is, as Žižek had already pointed out in The Sublime Object of Ideology, that the discursive or symptomal reading of ideology fails to take into account this thing that provides the ideology with its final support: the “uncanny subject” that foregoes a specific ideological configuration (Žižek 2008a, 140). It is in this state that the subject, not yet something but not simply nothing, is confronted, or rather negated (the slate is, in a sense, cleaned), by the horrifying void of the

Diplomacy as Ideological State Apparatus   35 Other’s desire, what Lacan captured with his famous question Che vuoi? What Žižek is pointing to is the minimal difference required to differentiate between nothing and itself, the little thing that makes it impossible for this self-relating negativity to ever become One. It is this thing, what he calls the less than nothing, that appears as a vanishing mediator between nothing and itself, putting into motion the dialectical sequence of negations. Not only does this act of wiping the slate clean, of the metaphorical cut that removes the less than nothing, bring about a specific ideological system, but also, the very possibility of this act can be found in the lack which always returns to undermine the system it brought about. The ISA thus constitutes an institutionalized set of practices destined to repress the impossibility of the One. But the subject is not the successful outcome of this process, rather it appears in its failures, giving body to the inconsistencies of the order the ISA upholds. Thus, with Žižek’s reading as our guide, we should locate Althusser’s failure to account for the not-all of ideology by placing due emphasis on two aspects of Lacanian theory: (i) the uncanny presence of the barred subject as vanishing mediator and (ii) the remainder that appears as the objet a and that reveals itself within the structure of ideology as two interconnected sides of a Möbius strip. These two sides are possible for the very reason that original representation, the signifier supposed to represent representation as such, is itself impossible, and must therefore be repressed.

Forgetting the political The most basic difference between the Althusserian and the Žižekian understanding of the concept of Ideological State Apparatus can be found in their respective perspectives on the subject: either the subject appears as the effect of the structure or the subject reveals the gaps and failures of ideology, which precisely in appearing in and through these gaps and failures nonetheless keeps the system running. When juxtaposing Althusser’s perspective – according to which the creation of an individual subject appears as the intended effect of the more general social order (going from the socio-political to the individual), and which this subject, in turn, confirms – with Žižek’s view, we are in a position to re-open the question of psychic reductionism. In placing the subject at the heart of the failure of the socio-political order it becomes the task of the subject’s fantasy to “hold” society together. Accepting such a position, however, leaves one susceptible to the accusation that precedence has been given to the individual over the social. As already noted, the idea of psychic reductionism is predicated on a split between the individual psyche and the social group, which in many aspects is foreign to psychoanalytic theory. Instead, the relationship between the individual psyche and the social should be understood as constituting what Žižek often calls a parallax. Thus, the very act of pairing the explicit structure (and its returning symptoms) with the latency of fantasy (and its unavoidable antagonism) allows us to take up precisely this parallax view, the look from awry that allows us to see how both sides constitute and uphold each

36   What is in a name? other. An ISA, in Žižek’s understanding, should thus be read as constituting part of what Lacan, from the seventeenth seminar and onwards, labeled a discourse, that is, the “fundamental relation” which brings with it “the emergence of what we call the subject via the signifier which, as it happens, here functions as representing this subject with respect to another signifier” (2007, 13). If the ISA is what offers the explicit social connection, the upper part of the discourse (the  and  in the Master’s discourse written as ), the subject is thus what completes the ideology (and the social link) by offering a fantasy as the explanation to the symptoms that haunt the impossible One of the official level (expressed through the formula of fantasy as  & a). Here, our goal is to develop precisely this relationship between negation and the social link in order to understand how ideological formations remain unstable, while at the same time retaining a trans-historical kernel. This will be done by linking Žižek’s reading of Rancière with his understanding of Lacan’s four discourses. With the basic formulas put in place, it is now possible to return to the question of understanding the political, the realm to which diplomacy also belongs. But in what sense is diplomacy part of the political? Beginning with the concept of fantasy, the relationship between the  and the a that arises out of the repression of the Vorstellungsrepräsentanz, any ideological formation takes on the form of the forgetting of a repression, a sort of negation of negation. The cleaning of the slate, the possibility for any ideological structure to be constituted, is thus, as Žižek notes, performed through one of the series of Freudian Ver:s: from ­Verdrängung (repression), and Verneinung (denial), to Verwerfung (rejection/ foreclosure), and Verleugnung (disavowal) (2012, 859). These negations of the impossible primordial One are thus linked to the metaphorical cut. They constitute the negative moment that brings about a new Master Signifier acting as a point de capiton by organizing the field of signifiers into an ideological formation. Thus, for Žižek, the Freudian negations is not a radical resolution of a deadlock, but, in its basic guise, the “return of the repressed” and, as such, by definition a compromise formation: something is asserted and simultaneously denied, displaced, reduced, encrypted in an often ridiculously patched-up way. (2017, 42) So, if the impossibility of the Vorstellungsrepräsentanz is what makes the political possible, it is the repression or exclusion of this deadlock that brings about a specific ideological structure. In other words, the organizing act accomplished by a Master Signifier is dependent on the specific form taken by the impure negation of negation that brings it about. As we know, standard Lacanian dogma proposes a certain ordering of these negations, such that denial would constitute the overarching genus of Freudian negations, with the other three, understood as particular species of denial, corresponding to one of the clinical structures (i.e., repression resulting in neurosis, disavowal in perversion, and foreclosure in ­psychosis). Žižek offers a different interpretation. Rather than understanding the

Diplomacy as Ideological State Apparatus   37 four negations as involving a genus (denial) with three subcategories, each one of the four negations presents a different form of forgetting the failure of the Vorstellungsrepräsentanz. On such a reading we are thus provided with a set of modes of negation, ranging from a complete rejection of the antagonism ­(foreclosure) up to the conscious acknowledgment accompanied by isolation (disavowal). One question that imposes itself here is whether or not such a depiction entails that the connection between forms of negation and their respective clinical structure is broken? Žižek, understandably, never expands on this relationship, mostly because he presents this reading in an attempt to answer a question regarding the form of the primordial negation as that which constitutes what we here call the Vorstellungsrepräsentanz as such. In some ways, though, it is Žižek’s reading of Rancière’s work on political philosophy that offers an answer to our question, also allowing us to explain its importance for the structuring of this treatment of diplomacy. Taking as our starting point that Žižek’s writings during the last decade have furthered an understanding of the political proper as a politics of the part of no-part, this perspective provides another conceptual prism through which we can understand the forgetting of the political. In tying the possibility of the political to the event of the part of no-part, Rancière juxtaposes a mode of political thought that is open towards the “aporia or the quandary proper to politics” with the false so called political philosophy as a mode of thinking politics that seeks to master the aporia by way of “a certain confusion of politics and the police” (Rancière 1999, ix, 25 [my emphasis]). In a more Žižekian terminology, this confusion is another way to formulate the “compromise formation”: the forgetting of the origin of political possibility, of which political philosophy would serve for Rancière as a sobering reminder, constitutes a principal instance of ideology. Žižek has formulated his reading of Rancière’s critique of political philosophy through two of the Freudian negations, rejection and disavowal, highlighting how archi-politics, para-politics, meta-politics, as well as the added ultra-politics and post-politics all represent ways in which this constituting gap of politics is forgotten. What this primarily means is that although the Vorstellungsrepräsentanz fails (and is repressed), the original gap it is set to cover over is filled in with the subject, forced into being by this failure. Thus, the five forms of politics are not to be seen as attempts to explain a deterioration of the original One of society. Instead, the subject’s first confrontation with society is through the very impossibility of this One, forcing it to construct a shielding fantasy. Furthermore, this impossibility of society constituting a unity means that there will always be a remnant, a “class of the uncounted,” the primordial negativity which returns to seemingly break the unity. It is at this level that the ideological fantasy takes hold, either denying, repressing, rejecting or disavowing the inconsistency, the “founding wrong,” that left some part of the polis unaccounted for (Rancière 1999, 38–39). The difference between a proper philosophical understanding of the political and false political philosophy is thus, in other words, the difference between approaching this remainder as the basis of politics as such and treating it as a threat against the false unity of the existing order. Second,

38   What is in a name? Žižek’s claim that the Rancièrian forms of political philosophy correspond to different Freudian negations suggests that they can be identified through the clinical structures of psychoanalysis, meaning that archi-, para-, meta-, and ultra-politics – through disavowal – take on a perverted form while post-politics – through foreclosure – appears as psychotic. Žižek describes one of the forms, meta-politics – the declaration of “a radical surplus of injustice or inequality in relation to what politics puts forward as justice or equality” (Rancière 1999, 81) – in the following way: Within these four disavowals [archi-, para-, meta, and ultra-politics] of the political moment proper, the most interesting and politically pertinent is the case of meta-politics, in which – to put it in the terms of Lacan’s matrix of the four discourses – the place of the “agent” is occupied by knowledge: Marx presented his position as that of “scientific materialism”; that is, metapolitics is a politics which legitimizes itself by a direct reference to the status of its knowledge […]. Here Rancière follows Claude Lefort’s insight into how the space for (Communist) totalitarianism was opened by ­“democratic invention” itself: totalitarianism is the inherent perversion of democratic logic. (Žižek 2008b, 227–228 [final emphasis added]) This depiction completes the image of how we will approach what Žižek already in The Sublime Object of Ideology described as “extracting the kernel of enjoyment” (2008a, 140), the second procedure of ideology critique complementing the more traditional practice of performing a symptomal reading of any ideological text. In order to reach the kernel of enjoyment, that thing which keeps repeating itself (what Freud called the death drive and what Hegel called the necessity of war), we need to understand not only how the specific ideology is organized, what symptoms haunt it, but equally to what register these symptoms belong, in other words, if they can be defined as either neurotic (hysteric or obsessional), perverse or psychotic symptoms. For what these structures capture is a certain stance in relation to the antagonism that sustains them. In other words, to engage in ideology critique is not only to lay bare the symptoms that haunt a specific formation, but also to locate the negation that instantiates the social link we know as ideology. Often in dialogue with Jacques-Alain Miller, Žižek has tried not only to understand the four discourses as the different forms in which the social link might find expression, but also to understand their specific historicity as well as their interrelationship. Pertinent to this discussion is the question of whether or not the Analyst’s discourse captures something about what Miller calls the hypermodernity of our times: Now, if we want, the discourse of the Master is the social discourse, the discourse of a civilization prevalent since Antiquity. He [Lacan] could say: it is the same structure as the unconscious. Hence, it is not absurd, a priori, that

Diplomacy as Ideological State Apparatus   39 the discourse of today’s civilization has the same structure as the analyst’s discourse, it is not inconceivable from the possibly desiring basis from which we are working. (2004) Against this idea of a shift from ancient Master to incessant Analyst, Žižek claims that the Master’s discourse represents “absolute monarchy, this first figure of modernity that effectively undermined the distinct network of feudal relations and interdependences, transforming fidelity to flattery” (2009, 298), effectively positing the unconscious as an invention of modernity. A key implication here is that in this understanding, Lacan’s theory of discourses provides us with not simply a general theory of social links, but a history of the social links in modernity. This means that modernity begins with the creation of the absolute monarch, the  which in the position of agent provides stability and unity to the floating mess of signifiers which constitutes the , the field of knowledge appearing in the position as the other of the monarch. The , the Master Signifier, thus appears as a metaphorical cut, instituting a new ideological field. But this would only constitute the upper layer of what Lacan calls the Master’s discourse: I will begin by distinguishing what on this occasion I will call the two aspects of knowledge, the articulated aspect and this know-how that is so akin to animal knowledge, but which in the slave is not totally devoid of the apparatus that transforms it into the most articulated network of language. The point is that this, the second layer, the articulated apparatus, can be transmitted, which means it could be transmitted from the slave’s pocket to the master’s – assuming they had pockets in those days. (2007, 21–22) This second level of knowledge, active below the explicit level of  and , is the unconscious knowledge, that which can be located in the slips and cracks of speech, “a knowledge which does not know itself” (Žižek 2012, 484). What we get is thus the slave, the split subject () and that impossible object of knowledge we know as the partial object of objet petit a. It is this latent lower half, the impossible relationship between  and a, that can cover over the fact that manifest knowledge is never complete, that there is always a gap between the master and the chain of knowledge, a gap that comes to be filled in by way of fantasy. For this reason, the Master’s discourse, in full expressed as , constitutes the historical social link of absolute monarchy and thus, according to Žižek, of modernity. If now we insert into this structure the image of the coughing diplomat, we can see how the represented Master (the nation) is assumed to have demanded a certain outcome of the diplomat’s partaking in an international congress, that is, that the work of the diplomat ensured the organization of the field of signifiers in a certain way. This is also what appears to us as onlookers of this imagined

40   What is in a name? political spectacle: everything the diplomat says and does can be measured against the Master Signifier. But as soon as the diplomat coughs, we are confronted with what appears as part of the  but which cannot be completely included; a void opens up before our eyes, confronting us with something which seems uninterpretable. This is the void that separates the subject of the diplomat from the object of desire. It is here that the unconscious fantasy enters the picture, providing us with a way of enjoying this symptom. The standard explanation, invoked also by Žižek, would be that the cough expresses the diplomat’s doubt or objection regarding the ongoing discussions. Depending on how this interpretation is given, we can see how the fantasy formation provides an insight into one of three of the Freudian negations (since the fourth, foreclosure, lacks a functioning Master Signifier allowing for an interpretation): if the impossibility is repressed, the anxiety provoking void will never appear at all; if it is denied, the void appears before its denial through the invocation of the interpretation; and finally, if it is disavowed, the impossibility of interpretation will be accepted but isolated through, for instance, an ironic reference to the diplomat’s potential cold. The form that the explanation takes regarding the cough is thus dependent on the form of negation that brought the Master Signifier into existence. When expanding this understanding, in order to encompass all Lacan’s discourses, we obtain four versions of the manifest material accompanied by a latent fantasy: the Master’s discourse (); the discourse of the University (); the discourse of the Hysteric (), and the discourse of the Analyst (). These can in turn be constituted and sustained by one of the four fundamental negations, inscribing their respective fantasy into a neurotic, perverted or psychotic structure. A hysteric subject, as one of the forms of neurosis, is, in other words, not necessarily part of the social link offered by the discourse of the Hysteric, just as the discourse of the Hysteric does not necessarily produce hysterical subjects, but rather constitutes a social link plagued by a certain hysterization of the explicit content. If the Master’s discourse here constitutes the basis introduced with every new formation of a Master Signifier, a certain way of understanding the dialectical interchange between discourses shows itself in Žižek’s thought. This transformation has, according to Žižek, a historical beginning, located in how the undermining of the feudal networks brought about by the absolute monarch constitutes the indicator of the impossible fantasy of capitalism, of the spin capitalism introduc[ed] into the Master’s discourse; since this spin cannot stand on its own, it triggers the split of the Master’s discourse into the discourse of ­Hysteria and the discourse of the University as the two facets of the capitalist link. Therein lies the parallax of capitalism, which can also be expressed in terms of the opposition between desire and drive: hysterical desire and perverse drive. The overlapping element of the two is  (subject), the product of the University discourse and the agent of the Hysteric’s discourse, and, simultaneously,  (knowledge), the product of the Hysteric’s discourse and the agent of the University discourse. […] This is the twisted

Diplomacy as Ideological State Apparatus   41 structure of the Möbius strip, of course: progression to the end on one side, we all of a sudden find ourselves on the other side. (Žižek 2017, 209) The ideological analysis of any phenomenon must account for this progress which is internal to a certain configuration of discourses (how a negation of the impossible Vorstellungsrepräsentanz brings about a relationship between them), but also to be aware of when a break occurs, introducing, reintroducing or reinvigorating a certain Master Signifier. Any attempt to master a field of signifiers will necessarily fail, but the specific ways in which it fails will tell us something about the antagonism out of which it was born and that it is, subsequently, set to cover over. Hence, in order to understand what precisely returns to haunt the figuration of diplomacy, we need to begin by formulating the form of forgetting active in its field. In other words, what impossibility is forgotten in order for the meaning of the cough to emerge? Is it possible to locate a post-political foreclosure, in which the uncounted “content is thrown out of the symbolic, de-symbolized”? Or is there a para-political, meta-political or ultra-political disavowal, meaning that the uncounted are admitted “a positive form” but only made possible “under the condition of Isolierung” meaning that it refuses to be integrated into the subject’s ideological experience (Žižek 2012, 859)? Furthermore, if four of the forms of political philosophy are defined by disavowal (and thus perversion) and the final form, post-politics, comes into being through foreclosure (linking it to psychosis), it seems as if the problem of the effect of Žižek’s claims on the link between negation and clinical structure are negligible, since no form seems to be defined either by repression or denial. But is it truly impossible to imagine a political philosophy taking on a neurotic structure? Here, we should note an important reservation regarding Žižek’s reading of Rancière. One problematic aspect of the use of Žižek’s Rancièrian concepts is that they cannot be so easily divorced from the way in which Žižek deploys them for the purpose of analyzing the predicaments of our present times; the cynical form of reasoning that ultimately boils down to the question of whether contemporary capitalist ideology is defined by a perverted or psychotic logic (Žižek 2017, 200). This question is, without a doubt, based on Žižek’s renewal of the critique of ideology in the wake of Sloterdijk’s work, highlighting how the old strategies of the critique of ideology “from the public exposure of lies to the benign correction of error to the triumphant unveiling of a structurally necessary false consciousness” are today rendered impotent (1987, xii). Hence, it is in this context, when the direct denial of a fact has been replaced by a more cynical approach to ideology, that Žižek claims that archi-politics too follows the logic of disavowal, despite the fact that its basic logic – offering an image of a closed or homogenous whole of society within which no properly political event can take place – should at least include also the direct belief in this community rather than only a fetishized belief in the other (Žižek 2008b, 224). However, if we return to Rancière’s initial description, this understanding of archi-politics that goes beyond the present cynicism seems to be possible. Here, in opposition

42   What is in a name? to the cynical approach wherein political conflict is openly asserted but this truth rendered impotent by isolation, archi-politics appears as the more direct denial that this conflict even existed. Rancière writes: Archipolitics, whose model is supplied by Plato, reveals in all its radicality the project of a community based on the complete realization of the arkhē of community, total awareness, replacing the democratic configuration of politics with nothing left over. To replace this configuration with nothing left over means offering a logical solution to the paradox of the part of those who have no part. (1999, 65) There is, in other words, no positive form that political conflict can take. Only through the negation of proper politics (in the Rancièrian sense) can the conflict – what Žižek himself will describe in terms of the logics of denial – remain in “consciousness, but marked by a denial” (2012, 859). Thus, the archipolitical will here not be treated as another form of disavowal, but as Verneinung, illustrated in how already Plato’s impossible figure of the sophist marks the return of the denied content, never returning as such in the guise of a political conflict, but always as a symptom, a problem of some other field, be it of ­knowledge or of being. In other words, archi-politics is precisely the “impossible fantasy” of the state that Žižek speaks of, which, while maybe impossible today, is one that nevertheless has guided much of Western thought since the late Renaissance. Furthermore, following the basic Lacanian thesis that neurosis not only constitutes a diagnosis that psychoanalysis might treat but also defines what we might call normally functioning subjects, we will treat denial as linked to a neurotic structure, since a denial also constitutes a “partial flight from reality, an incapacity to confront this secretly preserved part of reality” (Lacan 1997, 45), in other words, “the content is admitted into consciousness, but marked by a denial” (Žižek 2012, 859). Žižek’s reading of Lacan and Rancière allows us to capture something beyond the symptoms that appear in the gap between the explicit content of a symbolic formation and its fantasmatic support. By focusing on the specific form of forgetting or negation active in a social link we can also reach the kernel that brings several of these links together, highlighting how they all constitute attempts to expel the same less than nothing which, in turn, negatively defines their core.

Notes on analyzing the material In order to complete the picture of the approach through which we will be investigating diplomacy, there are a few final points regarding how the material (i.e., the works of fiction as well as the scientific and philosophical works) will be approached. Taking a starting point in Žižek’s use of Lacanian discourse, not in the sense of speech but rather as a fixation of a “fundamental relation […]

Diplomacy as Ideological State Apparatus   43 between one signifier to another” (Lacan 2007, 13), the analysis will aim at ­capturing the structuration of a certain social bond, meaning an explicit relation between the agent and its other (over the bars) and its fantasmatic support (below the bars) relating truth to production. Within this bond, the subject () and its objectal counterpart (a) will find its place and relation not only to each other, but also to the Master Signifier () and the chain of knowledge () transforming them as they move between the four formations. Summarized, it gives us the following conceptual map. As clinical work in psychoanalysis has also shown, this final point regarding transformation highlights the dialectical relationship between the four discourses central to Žižek’s reading: the fact that as we move between, for instance, the Master’s discourse and the discourse of the Hysteric, the subject changes ­position from truth to agent, means that the functioning of the subject, which operates in the gap between the subject as content and its formal position, will be transformed. Furthermore, every social formation begins with the Master’s discourse as the intrusion of a new Master Signifier, which, in turn, signals that the social bond offered is defined by one of the Freudian negations; the No-of-theFather repressing the impossibility of the primordial One in and through either Verdrängung (repression), Verneinung (denial), Verwerfung (rejection/­ foreclosure) or Verlegnung (disavowal). This means that, regardless of the

Figure 2.1 

44   What is in a name? c­ linical structure to which it belongs (neurotic, perverse or psychotic depending on the form of the negation), a subject can remain the same even though it is moving between discourses, only transforming the way in which the social link is established and the function that the latent fantasy plays. This also points to why Žižek holds on to the idea that the remaining three discourses can only be reached through turning the ordering of the Master’s discourse one step counter-clockwise (meaning that it is not possible to break with the order of  –  – a – ), since the way in which the content moves is based on the dialectics of the form. Given that the Master’s discourse constitutes the initiation of a new social bond, the other three are ultimately attempts to deal with a failing Master Signifier, all attempting to do so by treating the return of that which is repressed in negation. Thus, in order to illustrate how diplomacy constitutes an ISA, it becomes important to understand if diplomacy itself plays the role of a Master Signifier. This is why the final chapter of Part I is devoted to understanding how the term diplomacy functions within Political Science and Historical Studies. In interpreting the various meanings and contents attributed to diplomacy, the aim is to approach the very problem of the “naming” of diplomacy through Žižek’s treatment of the difference between descriptivism and anti-descriptivism in analytical philosophies of language. But simply establishing if the naming of diplomacy constitutes an act of instituting a Master Signifier is not enough. As Žižek noted, the fundamental structure of the Master’s discourse can be derived from the fact that the Vorstellungsrepräsentanz is primordially repressed, the fact that the agent and the other cannot constitute a harmonious whole in the presence of a new Master Signifier. What we get here is fantasy, that is, the way in which the subject forgets this primordial impossibility by imagining a fantasmatic relationship between the position of truth and that of the product. According to Žižek, the outcome of this is two versions of the same fantasy: on the one hand the symbolic fiction, in which the subject has direct access to the object of desire, and on the other, fantasy as spectral apparition, as the explanation why this paradisiac state has become impossible. What we are searching for in the first part is, in other words, the formation of what we might call the archi-fantasy of diplomacy. So, through what kind of material should diplomacy be studied? How is it possible to locate not only the forgetting active in its field but how different constellations of forgetting relate to each other? At its core, the methodological problem is to reach an understanding of the relation between different fantasmatic relations, how they offer a place for the barred subject and its objective counterpart (a), and how the specific symptoms haunting this formation relate back to a negation of a lack. Traditionally, the practice of diplomacy has been understood either from a historical or from a theoretical perspective, meaning that scholars, in the former case, have tried to understand it through working with diplomatic communication, treaties, and legal documents, or, in the latter case, by treating diplomacy as a concept and a practice in need of a theoretical explanation, so that its role within an already existing understanding of the nature of politics or relations between states can be grasped. To understand one side of the Möbius strip comprising diplomacy, part of the material will be

Diplomacy as Ideological State Apparatus   45 formed from both philosophico-theoretical and historical discourses of diplomacy, in order to understand “how a given ideological field is a result of a montage of heterogeneous ‘floating signifiers’, of their totalization through the intervention of certain ‘nodal points’ ” (Žižek 2008a, 140). By approaching the name of diplomacy as such a nodal point, we will be able to formulate not only the field of objects it has brought together (), constituting what we might call the field of diplomacy that historians and political scientists have meticulously studied, but also that specific spectral object, the thing which renders the unity of any ­specific One incomplete. Having said this, the spectral object – the side of the Möbius strip we have perhaps naively referred to as the objective side of diplomacy – needs to be accompanied by its subjective counterpart, the split subject (). For this reason, our investigation into dry scholarly works on diplomacy will be paired with three lively tales that address ambassadorial themes: Henry James’ novel The Ambassadors, André Brink’s novel The Ambassador, and Mads Brügger’s film The Ambassador. Our choice of literature and film here is due neither, as some claim regarding Žižek’s writing, to the supposition that popular culture would allow an image of politics which would further emancipation, nor, as others claim, to an assumption that fiction offers something beyond theory. Rather, through popular culture, the goal is to capture “in a story the major determination the subject receives from the itinerary of a signifier” (Lacan 2006, 7). This quote, taken from Lacan’s well-known reading of Edgar Allan Poe, emphasizes the same move already made with regards to the objet a: the attempt is to show how these narratives of ambassadorial representation become possible under the signifier of diplomacy, turning their main characters into diplomatic subjects. As such, the barred subject of popular culture (determined by the road taken by the signifier diplomacy) will be coupled with the spectral object that renders the diplomatic field as a collection of objects incomplete, allowing us to reach the lack that undermines them both, and thus showing their impossibility. We will, in other words, search for the signs of the forms of “the forgetting of the political” in the objective and the subjective formations of diplomacy. The diplomatic law makes possible a specific signifying chain, a chain that, as Lacan puts it in his reading of Poe, “governs the psychoanalytic effects that are determinant of the subject – effects such as foreclosure (Verwerfung), repression (Verdrägning), and negation (Verneinung) itself” (Lacan 2006, 6) (a list to which we should, here, add Verleugnung or disavowal). In analyzing the structure of the discourse, these negations will be discerned through tracing the difference between the level of what is explicitly said (the enunciation) and the level of the enunciated content, in other words, between the letter of the law and that which must be forgotten for the law to remain active (but which nevertheless returns to haunt it). In total, eight central concepts will guide this work: on the one hand, the four terms of the Master Signifier (), knowledge (), the subject () and the object of jouissance (a), and, on the other, their four places – agent, other, truth, and product. Thus, the empirical material, which at first sight might appear disparate, will by no means be treated as such. Instead, the subjective and objective sides of

46   What is in a name? diplomacy – the diplomatic figures of popular culture and the objects of the ­sciences studying diplomacy – will be approached as if they constitute two sides of the same Möbius strip, meaning that the analysis of the respective sides will be presented as a whole, continuously moving from one side to the other and back again. As such, these subjective and objective sides of diplomacy will be read as repeating and returning to the same deadlock, whether captured through the fictional subject of the ambassador or in diplomacy as an object of scientific study. Thus, the pairs of “Kant and James,” “Brink and post-war Political Science,” “Brügger and Diplomacy Studies” are linked by virtue of how they relate to a specific historical negation active in the field of diplomacy. Thus, although these empirical reference points might appear disparate, the paired reading of the subjective and objective side of diplomacy is aimed at illustrating how each shares what Žižek calls the unhistorical kernel defining its very nature. Furthermore, following Lacan’s seminar on The Purloined Letter, we will, in the question of the subjective side, focus on how the subject is determined by the letter in both senses of the word: on the one hand, by focusing on the actual letters that in all considered narratives play an important part and, on the other, focusing on the function of the letter or the signifier of diplomacy as such. Our focus will thus be upon the ambassadorial figures in the works of James, Brink, and Brügger respectively, showing the subjects (i.e., the main characters of ­Strether, Keyter, Van Heerden, and Mr. Cortzen) in which the letter of diplomacy finds its destination. In this sense, both the ambassadorial subject and diplomacy as a spectral object are symptoms in the discourse, since they constitute the return in speech by the forgotten antagonism constantly plaguing the formation of diplomacy, forcing it to constantly move. The path to the kernel of diplomacy, therefore, lies in the symptoms. In conclusion, what the diplomat’s cough illustrates is the manner in which the three themes of this thesis – name, death and representation – have to be confronted when diplomacy is understood as an Ideological State Apparatus. Primarily, the organizing function of the Master Signifier points to the problem of the name of diplomacy, of the big Other under which this ISA can be constituted. First formulated during the latter half of the eighteenth century, the concept of diplomacy actualizes not only the question of the rationality that it serves, but also, in relation to this, how the history of diplomacy should be understood. Does diplomacy, as is often claimed in Political Science, answer to an almost ontological or at least unconditional political need of sovereigns to relate to one another, or is the system which brings it about of a much more ­specific historical kind? Second, the idea of a birth of diplomacy presupposes the much-discussed topic of the death of diplomacy. Few of the apparatuses of the modern state have been proclaimed dead more times than diplomacy, something that should force us to ask the question: can diplomacy really die, or is it rather a failure in our understanding of diplomacy that makes us believe that it is dying? To answer such questions, we must grapple with the ISA, not as a system which produces subjects and their objects as means for its reproduction but as a social bond which appears because this act of structuring as such is impossible.

Diplomacy as Ideological State Apparatus   47 The fantasmatic relationship between the barred subject and the object of desire exists, in other words, only with respect to the point at which the apparatus fails. Finally, the topic of the ISA brings with it questions concerning the subject who is interpellated by it. As is illustrated in Žižek’s critique of Althusser’s understanding of ideology, the position of the subject in relation to the ISA is analogous to the “witness of an ‘impersonal’ Truth.” The diplomat, as a representing subject, thus appears at the center of the problem of diplomacy, not only providing it with a body and a voice, but just as much covering over the “crack, antagonism, imbalance, in its very heart” (Žižek 2012, 8).

Bibliography Althusser, Louis. 2005. For Marx. Translated by Ben Brewster. London: Verso. Althusser, Louis. 2008. “Ideology and Ideological State Apparatuses (Notes towards an Investigation).” In On Ideology, translated by Ben Brewster, 1–60. London: Verso. Althusser, Louis. 2015. “The Object of Capital.” In Reading Capital, edited by Louis Althusser, Étienne Balibar, Roger Establet, Jacques Rancière, and Pierre Macherey, translated by Ben Brewster and David Fernbach, 215–356. London: Verso. Dolar, Mladen. 1993. “Beyond Interpellation.” Qui Parle 6 (2): 75–96. Lacan, Jacques. 1997. The Seminar, Book III: The Psychoses, 1955–1956. Edited by Jacques-Alain Miller. Translated by Russell Grigg. New York, NY: W. W. Norton & Co. Lacan, Jacques. 2006. “Seminar on ‘The Purloined Letter.’ ” In Écrits: The First Complete Edition in English, translated by Bruce Fink, 6–50. New York, NY: W.W. Norton & Co. Lacan, Jacques. 2007. The Seminar, Book XVII: The Other Side of Psychoanalysis, 1969–1970. Edited by Jacques-Alain Miller. Translated by Russell Grigg. New York, NY: W. W. Norton & Co. Miller, Jacques-Alain. 2004. “La Passe.” presented at the IV Congrès de l’association mondial de psychanalyse, Comandatuba, BA, Brazil. http://2012.congresoamp.com/fr/ template.php?file=Textos/Conferencia-de-Jacques-Alain-Miller-en-Comandatuba.html. Rancière, Jacques. 1999. Disagreement: Politics and Philosophy. Translated by Julie Rose. Minneapolis, Minn.: University of Minnesota Press. Žižek, Slavoj. 2008a. The Sublime Object of Ideology. 2nd ed. London: Verso. Žižek, Slavoj . 2008b. The Ticklish Subject: The Absent Centre of Political Ontology. 2nd ed. London: Verso. Žižek, Slavoj. 2009. The Parallax View. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press. Žižek, Slavoj. 2012. Less than Nothing: Hegel and the Shadow of Dialectical Materialism. London: Verso. Žižek, Slavoj. 2014. Absolute Recoil: Towards a New Foundation of Dialectical Materialism. London: Verso. Žižek, Slavoj. 2017. Incontinence of the Void: Economico-Philosophical Spandrels. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press.

3 The naming of diplomacy

The naming of diplomacy Diplomacy has traditionally been assumed to have its origins in Ancient Greece, most notably because of the role that envoys or ambassadors supposedly played, both in creating and solving the problem of the relationship between city-states. One example of this can be found in the aforementioned text On the False Embassy capturing the event of the great Athenian speakers Aeschines and Demosthenes meeting in court to let the judges decide which of them bore the responsibility for the failure of their joint mission to Philip II of Macedon. In his denunciation of Aeschines, Demosthenes initially expanded on the duties of an ambassador: By consideration among yourselves, gentlemen, you should form a true conception of what should be included in the vindication which the state requires of any ambassador. He is responsible then, in the first place, for the reports he has made; secondly, for the advice he has offered; thirdly, for his observance of your instructions; then there is the question of times and opportunities; and, to crown all, whether he has done his business corruptly or with integrity. (1926, 1–5) Despite this early reflection on the responsibilities of an envoy, it would take another 2000 years for a concept to be invented to exclusively denote the field of managing relations between political entities. Take, for instance, the term here translated as “ambassador,” πρεσβεία [presbeía], meaning “seniority,” “rank” or “dignity,” which was used in any official situation where age was of importance, thus undermining any attempt to separate the ambassador and his practice from many other political duties of that time. Instead, in Greek, and later also in Latin, a number of different concepts were employed to speak about relations between city-states, kingdoms or empires, all primarily referring to the person sent rather than the act of sending and receiving envoys or to the field of relationships between sovereigns. Besides presbeia, these terms also include ἄγγελος [aggelos], meaning “messenger,” κηρυκεία [kērykeía], a herald. It was the Latin

The naming of diplomacy   49 terms, orator and legatus, that however remained in common usage in Europe well into the Renaissance. So, although communication and negotiation between sovereigns might be considered a natural part of the communal life of humans – some of the earliest writing surviving to this day, the so called Amarna letters written during the fourteenth century bce, contain what is often referred to as diplomatic correspondences between the Pharaohs and their vassals – the use of a single concept to refer to this practice is a much more recent phenomenon. In such a situation, in which no distinctive term exists, the perhaps naïve question regarding the nature of diplomacy becomes difficult to answer, since this practice lacked any differentiating qualities. It becomes problematic not least because of an inclination to formulate an answer to the question of the nature of diplomacy by investigating the history of both its signifier and its signified, that is, of the concept itself as well as the meanings that are ascribed to it. Due to the fact that the concept of diplomacy is first formulated in French during the last decades of the eighteenth century, most attempts to write a history of diplomacy tend to separate what we might call the conceptual history of diplomacy from any of the other aspects of its past. Thus, any attempt to write the history of diplomacy confronts us with a question fundamental to any historical work: should a history of a concept always begin with the formulation of that very concept, or is it possible to unearth a conceptual history beyond the name? To be able to answer such a question, it is perhaps fitting to begin by briefly presenting the history of the history of diplomacy in order to describe some of the ways in which the existing field has handled the problem. This section will thus need to make use of examples from both Historical Studies and Political Science, divided not so much on the basis of discipline as on the basis of how they have confronted the issue at hand. Therefore, after offering a short history of the historiography of diplomacy, we will present the two main approaches to diplomacy’s history: the state-centric and the ontological accounts. Within the academic field of history, so called Diplomatic History is one of its most ancient and esteemed subfields. Not only was it already established as an academic field during the nineteenth century, by influential historians such as Leopold von Ranke and Lord Acton, but its roots are often traced all the way back to the works of Herodotus and Thucydides. During the nineteenth century, Diplomatic History quickly developed a distinct set of methodological procedures. Most notably, investigations came to focus on the Diplomatic History of a certain period or a specific nation-state, meaning that this history was primarily understood through archival material (treaties, dispatches, reports etc.) and evaluated from what was considered to be an objective point of view. An illustrative example of the methodology and thematic focus that came to define the field can be found in a little-known text written by Karl Marx entitled Secret Diplomatic History of the Eighteenth Century. Here, Marx presented and discussed a number of letters exchanged between British diplomats and their Foreign Ministry on the topic of Britain’s stance in the political struggles of the time (1899). As evident in the case of Marx, particularity was the primary focus of most diplomatic historians of that time, and although the nineteenth century

50  What is in a name? saw a few attempts at writing a more general history of the practice of diplomacy, these works remained exceptions. Still during the early twentieth century scholars would point to the growing need for a general history of European diplomacy. As noted, it is often said that the theme of diplomacy in historical writing did not begin with the birth of Diplomatic History in the nineteenth century. Instead, this seamless history, stretching from Ancient Greek historical writing to present day Diplomatic History, is often illustrated by the weight given to peace treaties and embassies by historians from Thucydides onwards. During the Renaissance, historical and political works from antiquity also came to play an important part in the intellectual justification of a generalized system of relations between sovereigns. However, even among early exponents of international law, such as the sixteenth and seventeenth century natural philosophers Alberico Gentili and Hugo Grotius, no single concept was used to denote the practice of establishing relations between sovereigns. Instead, the word diplomacy, or at least its adjectivized form, was increasingly tied to the emerging science of interpreting antique texts, established with the publication of Jean Mabillon’s De re diplomatica in 1681. The task of the science of diplomatics, as it was called, was to validate the authenticity of documents from antiquity, mainly through the interpretation of handwriting, rather than to capture the nature of relations between sovereigns. However, since diplomatics was at the forefront of furthering a practice of collecting, commenting, and publishing documents (among them peace treaties) from various periods, these works became important tools used by princes and ambassadors in their engagement with issues of relationships with other sovereigns. Even though Diplomatic Historians of the last two centuries saw Thucydides and Herodotus as their own forerunners, the field of Diplomatic History has still, for the most part, been limited to studying the more contemporary aspects of diplomacy’s history. As, for instance, Christer Jönsson and Richard Langhorne have noted, the problem of writing a general history of diplomacy is that this task “seldom attracts the same interest as its contemporary procedures and privileges and its place in the conduct of international and global relations” (2006, vii). The vast majority of twentieth century works treating the historical aspects of diplomacy thus tend to focus on the part played by diplomacy in more recent historical events, most importantly the great wars of the twentieth century. This has left little room to write any overarching history of diplomacy. Furthermore, it has left the more particular history of diplomacy before the Peace of Westphalia in the dark, since the treaty of 1648 is usually assumed to constitute the point at which the international system of states came of age, and thus the first time when diplomacy could have any real impact on historical development. However, even if works on the history of diplomacy themselves remain scarce, the influence of those that do exist remains strong. In general, interpretations of the history of diplomacy can roughly be divided into two categories. The first treats diplomacy as a product of the early European Renaissance and the formation of the first modern nation-states, while the second depicts diplomacy as a

The naming of diplomacy   51 practice that leads all the way back to the dawn of human society. What can these perspectives on the history of diplomacy tell us about its nature? In order to answer the question “What is diplomacy?,” is it not incumbent upon us to uncover some kind of origin of diplomacy, regardless of whether it is found at the beginning of human civilization or in the first seeds of modernity in the Early Renaissance? Or can (and should) diplomacy only be understood from out of our own contemporaneity? To answer these questions, let us begin by investigating the state-centric approach to the history of diplomacy. Diplomacy and early modernity As noted, from the early nineteenth to the middle of the twentieth century, few scholars gave any attention to what we would call a general history of diplomacy. Principally, diplomacy was a theme that allowed historians to understand the origins and outcomes of specific wars and alliances, and thus to unlock the workings and reasoning behind important historical events. However, the publication of a number of influential works around the middle of the last century, most notably Garrett Mattingly’s Renaissance Diplomacy and Donald Queller’s The Office of the Ambassador in the Middle Ages, gave the study of the history of diplomacy a form that would define it for several decades to come. For these works the guiding principle is that diplomacy is seen to evolve in unison with the rise of the modern nation-state. Beginning in the Italian citystates of the early Renaissance, diplomacy and the nation-state supposedly developed in tandem, reaching their full maturity either, according to some, with the signing of the peace treaty of Westphalia or, according to others, somewhere toward the end of the nineteenth and beginning of the twentieth centuries. Therefore, in writing the history of diplomacy as a progression toward a specific telos (the modern states system), a line is commonly drawn that separates the foreign relations of earlier medieval society, organized around ideas of Christian unity, and the diplomacy of the Renaissance. In this sense, diplomacy could be understood as one aspect of a much larger transformation of society taking place during this era, also illustrated by, for instance, the ongoing separation between church and state, leading to a new understanding of sovereignty based on equality, independence and anarchy. This widely-held conception, shared by many historical and theoretical scholars of diplomacy alike, emphasized the modern, anarchic system of states that lays the foundation for diplomatic practice proper, even if its early practitioners were unable themselves to identify this transformation. The idea is that the transformation of the political landscape on the Italian peninsula during the middle of the fifteenth century created the necessary conditions for the emergence of a new kind of sovereign and, with him or her, a new kind of state. According to this account, this new species of sovereign no longer took part in a larger (Christian) unity, but rather a singular ruler striving for territorial sovereignty in a landscape of potential allies and enemies. Whence comes the need for diplomacy. Not that this understanding of transformations in and redistributions of power identifiable in Early Modern Europe implies that the sending

52  What is in a name? and receiving of envoys is believed to be an invention of the Renaissance. Instead, their work is often guided by a notion of a pre-history of diplomacy proper. The distinction between proto-diplomacy and diplomacy proper was traditionally made on the level of state organization, separating, on the one hand, earlier forms of organizing relations between sovereigns, tribes, and societies which, perhaps since the dawn of humankind, had led to different systems for intersocietal communication, and, on the other hand, proper diplomacy defined as the collaboration of free sovereigns in a situation of mutual recognition (something which was assumed to have first emerged in the fifteenth century). Perhaps the most classical example of an attempt to trace this proto-diplomacy – by enumerating its similarities and differences with respect to diplomacy, properly construed – can be found in Donald Queller’s aforementioned work summarized by him in the following way: In the course of the more than three centuries [1100–1400] during which the ambassadorial office has been considered here, great changes were wrought in that office in conformity with sweeping changes in the fabric of a society in the progress of transformation from feudal to modern. In the mid-twelfth century governments were relatively poor financially, bureaucracies were only beginning to develop, specialists in judicial and financial affairs were emerging from the undifferentiated curia, and diplomatic dealings among states were infrequent. By about the end of the fifteenth century, however, modern states were conducting frequent or continuous diplomatic relations very much as we do now. (1967, 225) However, this understanding of the history of diplomacy, often labeled Realist or, more pejoratively, Whiggish, has not been without its critics. Most notably, another main current of the Political Sciences, the English School, opposed the idea that the origins of diplomacy could be found in the political situation of the Italian peninsula during the fifteenth century. Hedley Bull has, for instance, claimed that diplomacy cannot already have emerged in the early Renaissance since diplomacy “presupposes the existence of an international system” (2007, 160). In other words: diplomacy is not dependent on sovereigns recognizing themselves as part of a field that lacks an overarching authority, but it rather presupposes that sovereigns acknowledge the existence of an international society of states recognizing each other, something which is first formulated by philosophers of natural law during the course of the sixteenth century. Nevertheless, both of these prominent perspectives in Anglo-Saxon Political Science still agree that the emergence, and therefore the history, of diplomacy is closely linked to the emergence of the modern nation-state, leaving it for us to decide how to define this state and its first point of emergence. The latter third of the twentieth century saw a rapid decline in writings on the history of diplomacy, both in Political Science and in Historical Studies. Not only were attempts to write a general history of diplomacy simply abandoned,

The naming of diplomacy   53 but also the more classical topics of Diplomatic History, such as those concerning the two World Wars, experienced dwindling interest. Within Historical Studies, it has been claimed that this situation was due to a general theoretical and ­methodological development through which the field gradually moved away from the positivist and empiricist ideals that for a long time had defined not only work on the history of diplomacy but the historical field in general. Since the topic of diplomacy slowly disappeared from Historical Studies, the critique of the so-called Whiggish interpretation, prevalent in Diplomatic History, did not begin to spread further until the beginning of the new millennium (even if it had been voiced, at least to some degree, already in the eighties). In an influential article by John Watkins, Diplomatic History was described as “the oldest, and traditionally one of the most conservative, subfields in modern history” (2008, 1). Certainly not overlooking the problem of the prevalent position given to the nation-state in the earlier works, the critique leveled by scholars of history also highlighted that the depiction of actual diplomatic practices had been traditionally limited to investigating treaties, negotiations, and the dominant European courts during the early Renaissance, neglecting or rejecting other practices, deeming them unimportant, peripheral or primitive, all in an attempt to locate diplomacy’s true origin. Watkin’s call for scholars from the wider field of humanities (and thus beyond the limits of history) to grapple with the question of diplomacy had, as it turned out, a considerable effect, eventually leading to the creation of what is today known as New Diplomatic History. This new field is composed of scholars traditionally working with other aspects of Early Modern culture and politics, producing a plethora of works treating different aspects of diplomatic practices during the Renaissance. Although the era treated remains the same – usually scholars focus on the period between the early ­fifteenth and the late eighteenth centuries – the questions and problems raised within New Diplomatic History differ greatly, both from traditional diplomatic historians and from historically oriented works within Political Science. Instead of an attempt to redefine diplomacy in order to retrieve its relevance for contemporary global politics, or trying to understand the role of diplomacy during a specific historical event, scholars of New Diplomatic History usually set out with the aim of painting a richer and more nuanced picture of the emergence, the practices, and the influences of diplomacy in Early Modern society. Hence, questions regarding how diplomacy was performed, understood, materialized, and reflected upon are usually put at the forefront of these works, making ­everything from theatre to literature, from paintings to poetry, and from gender relationships to hieroglyphs part of the role and functioning of diplomacy in Renaissance Europe. The idea that foreign relations during the Renaissance provided Western Europe with something similar to a political arena – in which a number of different discourses naturally influenced, and were influenced by, the issues, themes, and questions of the day – has made it possible to study a number of topics from a diplomatic perspective. If traditional Diplomatic History focused on the state, its formation, and especially the documents and treaties that were produced, New Diplomatic History focuses on diplomacy as a

54   What is in a name? multifaceted social practice, on the broadening of what might be considered diplomatic conduct, and who might be considered a diplomatic actor, as well as on what might be considered a diplomatic relationship. However, from the point of view of the nature of diplomacy, Diplomatic History and New Diplomatic History both assume, to a large extent, a similar understanding of what diplomacy is: they treat it as a practice integral to the way in which politics was ­performed during the Early Modern period, thus remaining within the horizon of thinking of diplomacy as the conducting of relationships between nation-states. Diplomacy and ontology Opposed to the idea of diplomacy as essentially tied to the historical emergence of the nation-state, a more contemporary strand of works on the history of diplomacy argues for its ontological and invariant import, thereby opening up an entirely different way of approaching diplomacy’s past. Diplomacy is thus viewed as a historical constant throughout human history and across societies and civilizations. Although this perspective first gained real traction within Political Science in the final decades of the last century, the simple view that struggle between different societies is unavoidable has a far longer provenance. Hugo Grotius, for instance, begins his inquiry by pointing out that relations between sovereigns, since ancient times, were defined by the fact that they lacked a “common bond of civil laws to decide their dissensions” (1901, 6). As noted, many of the traditional works dealing with the history of diplomacy have spoken of this eternal presence of negotiation between different societies, groups or tribes, while, nevertheless, separating it from the history of diplomacy proper, which is linked to the emergence of the nation-state. There are, however, a few exceptions to this approach. Arguably the most well-known example can be found in Ragnar Numelin’s The Beginnings of Diplomacy, first published in 1950. As a critique of a field that, at best, acknowledged a kind of pre-history of diplomacy dating back to Ancient Greece, Numelin writes: It is true that certain early writers, such as Gentilis or Archbishop Germonius in his De legatis, trace the origins of diplomacy to God Himself who created the angels to be his legats [sic], and even substantiate their arguments by copious examples drawn from ancient history, sacred, and profane. But if we do not want to lose our way in the history of religion we must content ourselves with the fact that the roots of diplomacy have hardly been traced farther back in time, or, sociologically speaking, to lower stages of civilization than to the ancient peoples around the Mediterranean. Yet I think it is by no means impossible to prove that diplomacy, if by this word we mean the maintenance of peaceable relations between tribes and nations, so far from having arisen during the so called Classical Antiquity, or even among the peoples of the Orient, India, or China, can be traced back to primitive surroundings, and its roots may just as well be sought among the stone age inhabitants of the Australian steppes, the island-dwellers of Oceania,

The naming of diplomacy  55 the primitive peoples in Asia, the Negroes of Africa and the Indians of North and South America. (1950, 13) The problem with works like that of Numelin (putting to one side his cultural reductionism) is that, as has been noted by for instance James Der Derian, few are able to provide any deeper understanding of the situation out of which this practice emerged, and they are not able to provide us with a different view on its nature (1987, 45). As can be gleaned from Numelin’s definition of diplomacy, clearly his goal is not to understand diplomacy as such, but to provide a depiction of the way in which relations between different groups have been organized outside of the bounds of European history. Another reason why these works fail to provide any new insights is a profound lack of the kind of artefacts usually studied by diplomatic historians. Treaties and similar documents that may provide an insight into the type of relationships existing between groups throughout human history are, for the most part, long gone. An illustration of Der Derian’s critique that these works often reproduce the already assumed view of diplomacy prevalent in Political Science at the time can be found in the treatment of one of the few surviving examples of diplomatic exchange from before Classical Antiquity: the aforementioned Amarna Letters, written sometime during the fourteenth century bce. In the anthology Amarna Diplomacy, several scholars from different disciplines present their interpretation of these tablets containing letters sent between the Egyptian court and its neighbors. In a vein similar to that of traditional historians of diplomacy, these works attempted to understand the emerging diplomatic practices in the area as an answer to the “goals and needs” of the parties involved (Cohen and Westbrook 2000). Accordingly, the understanding of diplomacy permeating this work simply reproduces the approved perspective on the modern states-system prevalent in mainstream Political Science and International Relations. Political Scientist Rodolfo Ragionieri, for instance, concludes his contribution in the following way: Martin Wight defined diplomacy as the “master institution” of international society. This is particularly appropriate in our case, since war and the balance of power, for technical and ideological reasons, did not perform the function they possessed later. Diplomacy in the Amarna Age cannot be compared to the system of resident embassies but should be understood in the context of the effective means, requirements, and assumptions of the time. Diplomacy and its methods, the envoy and the cuneiform tablet, were the means by which kings and vassals could establish contact and give shape to a permanent web of formal relations. […] Moreover, diplomacy permitted the reconciliation of the various self-centered ideologies and identities. (2000, 52) Although Ragionieri seeks to distance himself from any conception of Political Science predicated on Realist assumptions, what he still assumes is that the

56   What is in a name? r­elations between sovereigns around the eastern part of the Mediterranean during the fourteenth century bce took on the shape of a society or even a community. Even though the needs, goals, and accepted codes of conduct of a Pharaoh differ from those of a twentieth century head of state, the nature of diplomacy remains the same: to protect the state and its interests while trying to find a way to coexist peacefully. However, this perspective changed with the publication of what has become one of the most influential contemporary works on the history of diplomacy, James Der Derian’s On Diplomacy: A Genealogy of Western Estrangement. In the introduction, Der Derian promises the reader a new take on the question of the origins of Western diplomacy since, “[h]istory is necessary to understand diplomacy, […] if we are to know what diplomacy is, or where it might be heading, we must know how it came into being.” (1987, 2–3) The book offers a history of the different forms that diplomacy has taken in the West (beginning with mytho-diplomacy and then moving through proto-diplomacy, diplomacy, and anti-diplomacy before reaching today’s techno-diplomacy), guided by an understanding of diplomacy as “a mediation between estranged individuals, groups or entities” (Der Derian 1987, 6). In doing so, Der Derian was able to offer a reading that went against many of the then prevalent assumptions regarding the history of diplomacy, principally that diplomacy proper begins with Italian city-states during the Renaissance. When establishing the genealogy Numelin was looking for, Der Derian was able to draw a line from the Bible via, for instance, Augustine’s The City of God and Michel Foucault’s Bentham, to Frantz Fanon, all of which were assumed to constitute examples of diplomatic thought as they all approached the question of mediation of different identities. So, what differentiates the traditional works on the history of diplomacy, such as those by Mattingly or Queller, from the works that followed in the wake of Der Derian’s influential book? Although they all acknowledge that diplomacy has a history, one which is equiprimordial to the formation of human society itself, the followers of Der Derian often highlight that diplomacy, in light of this, has a specific ontological quality. Thus, instead of trying to locate the material circumstances and historical contingencies that supposedly made diplomacy in its current form possible, these scholars, often belonging to the so called Third Debate of International Relations, attempt to write a history of diplomacy based on its role as a central, not to say unavoidable, human activity. As noted, Der Derian famously defined diplomacy as the need for mediation between estranged individuals, groups, and entities. Thus, diplomacy became the answer to the fundamental problem surrounding man’s deep and severe state of alienation – a claim that has since remained peculiarly influential. In attempting to establish a history of diplomacy, this perspective lends itself to analyses of central historical conflicts which played an important role in shaping the identity of a particular historical society (such as  the conflict between Christian kings and the Ottoman Empire during the Middle Ages, or the opposition between God and humans in the early ­Christian period), meaning that any effort to mediate between these opposed

The naming of diplomacy   57 identities may be defined as diplomacy. Another key protagonist in the attempt to rewrite not only the history of diplomacy but also the general u­ nderstanding of it, is Costas M. Constantinou, who, by focusing on the ontological incompleteness of the human condition, has fashioned an idea of an infinitely postponed diplomacy. Constantinou claims that since we humans have throughout history been searching for the truth about ourselves and the world around us, we have been, and always will be, engaged in diplomatic practices; this existential search for truth and meaning necessarily brings us into relation with the other, thereby forcing us into a diplomatic relation (1996, 45–68). Others, such as Iver B. Neumann, have avoided the topic of the incompleteness of being as a ground for diplomatic practice, opting instead for a notion of kinship or religious fraternity as the ontological foundation on which to understand the history of diplomacy. Against the state-centric view of diplomacy, effectively barring, for instance, the practice of sending envoys during the ­ European Middle Ages from constituting a proper diplomatic system, Neumann writes: “One problematic effect of downplaying what came between ancient Greek and Italian Renaissance diplomacy, then, is that it also downplays the importance of religion and kinship for diplomatic discourse generally and for the emergence of contemporary diplomacy in particular” (2012, 27). The goal that unites all these attempts is thus not only to rewrite the history of diplomacy, but to do it in such a way that its place and purpose today are redefined. One important aspect nevertheless brings into alignment both the ontological and the state-centric perspectives on the history of diplomacy: the fact that they locate its origins in a time when the name diplomacy did not yet exist. This fact can, in turn, explain why the definition of the word diplomacy has become perhaps the most central question when writing a history of diplomacy, repeated, almost as a mantra, by everyone from Ernest Satow to Constantinou. As many before us have already pointed out, the definition will, ultimately, limit the ways in which the history of diplomacy can possibly be written. Either diplomacy can be understood as the organization of (perhaps peaceful) relationships between every possible form of human society or group, or the concept should only be applicable to relationships between nation-states following its development from Early to Late Modernity. This question, and the related problem of how to define the name of diplomacy, has, as already noted, been central to Political Science and Diplomatic History ever since the beginning of the twentieth century. It appears as if the writing of the history of diplomacy has faced an impossible dilemma: on the one hand, the secret of diplomacy’s essence is said to lurk within its history and its origins, but to write such a history demands that we go beyond the coining of the term. On the other hand, in order to write a proper history of diplomacy beyond an investigation into the origins of the term, such a study must be guided by the correct understanding of what diplomacy signifies in order for the scholar to separate it from other, similar, practices. So, in order to move beyond the limits of both the state-centric and ontological perspectives respectively, let us now turn to the act of naming itself: the birth of the concept of diplomacy.

58   What is in a name?

What is in a name? The concept of diplomacy was coined in France somewhere during the latter half of the eighteenth century, before relatively quickly spreading throughout the continent. As already discussed, prior to this point no specific term had been used to denote a set of determinate practices, instead the main way of distinguishing foreign relations from other aspects of politics, between the long period from Greek antiquity to the late Renaissance, had been by focussing on its main actor. As the latest example of this, the term ambassador came into general circulation at the end of the Medieval Era. By the Renaissance, a veritable fleet of complementary terms was in use (e.g., legate, orator, negotiation, politics), often used to denote the doings and the duties of ambassadors. Most notably, this period marks the point at which the ambassadorial art became synonymous with the practice of negotiation or politics, often used in French, since that had become the lingua franca of European foreign relations. The synonymy at play in politics at that time covered what today has been separated into two subfields: the internal and the external business of the state. Whereas today we would draw the line between state politics and diplomacy as somehow falling outside of the political, from the Renaissance, it was rather common to speak of the carrière politique, meaning that to be an ambassador was to follow a ­political career in foreign policy, in contradistinction to a career in the state bureaucracy. On the other hand, we would do well to consider the distinction between the public and the private interior in the functioning of the state. To take one exemplary case of this well-known division, Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s discourse on the œconomie politique will explicitly contrast the political economy of the state to the economy of the family, thereby suggesting that there probably was little overlap between the realms of foreign and internal politics, even though they were known by the same name. In the first confirmed dictionary entry diplomacy is, as mentioned, defined as “[t]he science of rapports and interests between one power and another” (“Diplomatie” 1798, 426). However, defining diplomacy in terms of a science was never the ruling practice, neither before nor after the publication of Le Dictionnaire. Instead, as for instance Halvard Leira has pointed out, diplomacy was primarily used (and perhaps also invented) by French revolutionaries as a way to critique the politics of absolute monarchy and the aristocracy that benefited from it. Gaspard Joseph Ducher, a former French ambassador and revolutionary, for instance wrote the following: The diplomacy of the French republic should be simpler and more loyal than that of despotism, but it should also be less expensive: the means for housing agents in foreign lands that are less burdensome for the public treasury presents itself incessantly. The diplomats of the old regime are priests; their doctrine is to true relations between people what theology is to morality […]. The French republic dishonors itself by bringing forth, if she does not abjure every politics other than that of hardy courage, any other

The naming of diplomacy   59 diplomacy than that of commerce, natural bonds between people, the most solid base for their prosperity, the most powerful means for maintaining or recovering their political liberty. (1794, 23) Ducher’s use of the term is here much more in line with today’s common sense understanding of diplomacy than with any idea of diplomacy as a science, which is to say that for Ducher the term denotes the practice of representing the republic in relation to other states. Furthermore, the critique he formulates rests on an opposition between old and new diplomacy, a distinction that arose around the same time as the concept of diplomacy itself. Thus, Ducher juxtaposes the corrupted, disloyal, and nepotistic diplomacy of the ancien régime with the new, open, honest, and global diplomatic spirit of the republic. This once again points to the novelty the concept of diplomacy introduced in the French language, a development that Marc Belissa has described as a shift away from the ambassador and his art of negotiating to the diplomat and the science of interpreting the will of nations and peoples (2015). But, as is illustrated by the first time the concept appears in English, diplomacy did not belong exclusively to the revolutionary critique of absolute monarchy. Instead of constituting a call for freedom and commerce, arguably the most famous conservative of that time, Edmund Burke, uses the concept of diplomacy in his Letters on a Regicide Peace to hail king Louis XVI for supposedly doing “what he could to destroy the double diplomacy of France” (1999, 243). Although evidently critical of what he calls double diplomacy, Burke’s use of diplomacy in his lauding of the French monarch illustrates that diplomacy was not solely a concept associated with the progressive values of the Enlightenment. Thus, it seems as if the term diplomacy allowed for the joining of hands of both monarchists and revolutionaries, regardless of whether diplomacy represented the hope of ensuring a stable peace by doing away with the ancien régime and installing republicanism in its stead, or signified the pacifying nature of the “manners of the court” in which the traditional ambassador excelled. Given all these circumstances, a common approach to the problem of the name in writing a history of diplomacy seems to consist in the following gesture: that, when writing the history of diplomacy, the starting point is to identify the bundle of descriptions that comprise diplomacy as a concept. Following Slavoj Žižek, we will henceforth have reason to refer to such an approach to the history and theory of diplomacy as “descriptivist.” The problematic implications of this perspective now need to be properly circumscribed, and this will be achieved by following the way in which Žižek discusses the longstanding feud within the philosophy of language between the descriptivists and anti-descriptivism. This second approach to the name of diplomacy would, against the descriptivist emphasis on the primacy of meaning or descriptors, focus on the moment of “rigid designation”, the point in time when the name was bound to an object, either material or ideal. What we will hope to show is how, precisely, Žižek offers us a path to understand the limits of the existing historical, state-centric and ontological approaches to diplomacy. Taking the problem of descriptivism

60   What is in a name? first, let us consider the following passage from Harriet Rudolph. Common to this first approach is to treat the term “diplomacy” as an analytical concept meant to cover all practices of negotiation in which official representatives of political entities directly and peacefully interact to pursue political objectives with regard to those regions where they were not able to claim any rights of territorial rule. This definition does not necessarily imply the existence of a nation-state, institutionalized professional training of diplomats, or specific features such as reciprocity and permanence. Following Harold Nicolson, who defined diplomacy as an “organized system of negotiation”, it rests on the notion that communication and representation are essential factors in any diplomatic activity, although “the essential necessity in any negotiator that he should be fully representative of his own sovereign at home” could be and in fact was challenged in both periods of time. (Rudolph 2016, 8) From the starting point of the descriptivist, it becomes possible to identify, depending on how the term is defined, a plethora of different historical practices, claiming that they all serve as illustrations of the functioning of diplomacy. What such an approach allows for is not only the already discussed idea of an Amarna diplomacy, but similar concepts such as Iroquois diplomacy, Ottoman diplomacy, and Numelin’s Aboriginal diplomacy, all of which appeared (often only to disappear once more) long before the term diplomacy was invented. However, one issue which immediately appears within the descriptivist horizon is why one bundle of descriptions would be preferable to another: does Der Derian’s definition of diplomacy as “mediation between estranged individuals, groups or entities” (1987, 6) provide us with the most accurate account of the history of diplomacy or should it rather be guided by the notion that diplomacy, as Nicolson claims, is “neither foreign policy nor international law, but the art of negotiation” (1954, 2)? The descriptivist perspective here lacks a proper answer to why we should prefer one definition over the other, partially because diplomacy offers no physical object to which we could return in order to decide which properties offer the most accurate description, and partially because the descriptivist understanding of naming cannot explain why diplomacy, and no other signifier, should be connected to this specific bundle of descriptions. Thus, considering this issue it is easy to understand why scholars attempting to write the history of diplomacy often lament the notorious slipperiness of the term: In current language this word “diplomacy” is carelessly taken to denote several quite different things. At one moment it is employed as a synonym to “foreign policy,” as when we say “British diplomacy in the Near East has been lacking in vigour.” At another moment it signifies “negotiation,” as when we say “the problem is one which might well be solved by diplomacy.” (Nicolson 1939, 13)

The naming of diplomacy   61 In order to counteract this perceived vagueness, historians of diplomacy have engaged in a sort of etymological game, partially in order to point out how a certain object seems to return in connection to the word diplomacy, making it possible to write its history. A few decades after the popularization of the term, the French Count Guillaume de Garden presented his definition of diplomacy, the outcome of an etymological investigation. In a footnote, de Garden points out that the use of the term diplomacy had grown in popularity since the Ministry of Charles Gravier de Vergennes, who acted as the secretary of foreign affairs to Louis XVI until Gravier’s death in 1787, but that the term’s etymological roots could be traced all the way back to the Greek διπλώμα [diplōma]. However, he continues, diplomacy does not have any relationship to the “technical knowledge” or science of authenticating ancient documents known as diplomatique (de Garden 1833, 1–2). The problem is that as soon as the etymological argument for diplomacy enters the picture, we leave the sphere of pure descriptivism. Why? Because, the attempt to locate an origin, a “primal baptism,” tells us that we have passed into antidescriptivist territory, where the meaning of the word is supposedly found in its historical development, taking us on a journey from its roots in ancient Greek, via Latin – where for instance Cicero used the Greek diplōma to denote a form of passport or letter of recommendation – to the science of separating true ancient documents from falsifications (a sort of ­paleography) referred to as diplomaticus. According to Žižek, an antidescriptivist approach assumes “that a word bonds to an object through a ‘primal baptism,’ and that this bond remains, even if the bundle of descriptors that initially comprised the signification of the word changes completely.” (2014, 213) This “rigid designator” then remains the same in all possible words, regardless of whether the meaning ascribed to it changes or not. The first, and most common way to deal with this is to highlight one aspect mentioned by de Garden: the Greek origin of the word diplomacy. The proximity between the modern and the ancient concept, considering for instance that ancient envoys (among others) received a diplōma to ensure safe travels, is supposed to provide this scene of baptism, and thus an answer to why it is diplomacy, and not any other word, that is used to signify this specific series of properties. In other words, the fact that the Greek root was also used to denote a sphere of inter-state relations (or at least inter-state travel) supposedly shows us diplomacy’s long connection to this object. Against the etymology of de Garden, others claim that the link is first established later, between diplomaticus and diplomacy, and that sometime during the seventeenth century the former concept was widened, from only covering the formal nature of the ancient ­diplomas examined for authenticity to also including the field of practice to which these diplomas belonged. What, for instance, Satow attempts to locate by referencing Leibniz’ Codex Juris Gentium Diplomaticus thus offers us a similar scene of origin, a point in time when the series of properties or the meaning associated with the word ­diplomatic (and later its different derivatives) is transferred to the field of International Relations (2011, 3). The same antidescriptivist approach can be

62   What is in a name? found in what have been described as one of the more exhaustive investigations into the history of the word diplomacy, found in Costas M. Constantinou’s On the Way to Diplomacy. Like his forerunners, Constantinou tries to locate the moments in history when the meaning of diplomacy moved toward its modern ­understanding. Thus, he points to a text written before the invention of the science of diplomatics, in which a twelfth century English scholar and abbot named Alexander Neckham made use of the Latin word duploma to signify, as Constantinou puts it, “cleverness/stealth/deviousness/intelligence.” Thus, Constantinou continues, “diploma appears to carry ‘diplomatic’ meanings much before […] the actual use of the term diplomacy – meanings that have been lost and are no longer carried with the single word diploma” (Constantinou 1996, 78). The advantage the antidescriptivist etymological approach has over descriptivism is the fact that, as Žižek notes, it acknowledges the inescapable sociality of language. It makes possible the position that words are not simple descriptors but are instead always subjected to an overdetermined historico-political structure, that is, they are embedded within ideology. Constantinou writes: Stabilizing the meaning of diplomacy requires constant policing. Historical ­(etymological, grammatical, phonetic) associations with the signifier may be tolerated, and sometimes even acknowledged, but their significance has to remain subservient to the disciplinarian interpretation. Other senses must be held in check in the name of sense, of common sense, of diplomatic common sense. (1996, 82) One final approach exists within the bounds of an antidescriptivist approach, one that limits the history of diplomacy so as only to cover the period from the French Revolution (when the word was first coined). Here the invention of diplomacy, according to Halvard Leira, indicates the revolutionary break between feudalism and modern democracy: The position taken here is that the emergence of the specific concept is crucial to our understanding of “diplomacy.” Transhistorical reference to “diplomatic” practice obscures the very distinct historical specificity of what we today refer to as “diplomacy.” The advent of the concept marked not only the drawing together of a number of what had been perceived as “political” activities of princes and their representatives and named them collectively as the business of interaction between polities, it also happened as the culmination of a long process of critique against the very same practices. Furthermore, the emergence of “diplomacy” was part of a much larger shift in political languages, replacing the understandings of absolutism with the new understandings of the Enlightenment. What we today refer to as “diplomacy” was, according to this understanding, born out of (Western) revolution and enlightenment. (2016, 28)

The naming of diplomacy   63 What Leira, in a critique of Constantinou, points out is that coinage of the concept of diplomacy did not simply replace any existing term. Instead, it created or defined a new field of meaning by drawing together aspects of already existing terms such as “ambassador,” “negotiation,” and “politics.” As already noted, this new field was also intimately connected with the critique of the existing system of government. In order to buttress his case, Leira returns to a famous quote from Thomas Paine’s Rights of Man, first published in 1791, in which Paine attacks what he saw as the antiquated forms of diplomatic practice: The situation of Dr Franklin, as Minister from America to France, should be taken into the chain of circumstances. The diplomatic character is of itself the narrowest sphere of society that man can act in. It forbids intercourse by the reciprocity of suspicion; and a diplomatic is a sort of unconnected atom, continually repelling and repelled. But this was not the case with Dr Franklin. He was not the diplomatic of a Court, but of MAN. (2009, 119) Thus, as Leira concludes, “the earlier titles in use (like ambassador and envoy) were descriptive terms, the concept of diplomacy was evaluative, and strongly negative, leading to the almost immediate call for something else to supersede it, namely ‘new diplomacy’.” (2016, 36) Similar to Constantinou, Leira highlights the role of the term diplomacy in a politico-ideological struggle, although in the latter case it appears as part of a counter-culture rather than as belonging to the ruling hegemony. However, Constantinou’s note that the slippage of language is “tolerated,” that the proliferation of meanings is only allowed under the watchful eye of the Master, also illustrates the failure of the antidescriptivist perspective. Both scholars take for granted that terms are invented and used with a certain unambiguous purpose; as Leira puts it, diplomacy “was part and parcel of the domestic struggles over political power” (2016, 36). What we can see here is how the anti-descriptivist approach must assume the existence of an omnipotent Master in full control of the signifying chain if the act of baptism is to retain its force throughout history. But, as psychoanalysis tells us, such a Master does not exist. It is rather the fact that the name, as such, has the function of covering over the lack of the Master (his ­inexistence), making it appear as if a Master was in actual control. What, in hindsight, appears as the clever ruse of an omnipotent Master is, in other words, only the retroactive effect of the contingency of naming. It is only from the inside of the history of diplomacy that it appears as if the history of this meaning was cleverly designed by and for the sovereign. As Žižek puts it: Bearing in mind how the terrain of the dispute between descriptivism and antidescriptivism is thus permeated by an undercurrent of the economy of desire, it should come as no surprise that Lacanian theory can help us clarify the terms of this dispute, not in the sense of any quasi-dialectical “synthesis” between the two opposing views but, on the contrary, by pointing out how

64   What is in a name? both descriptivism and antidescriptivism miss the crucial point – the radical contingency of naming. (2008, 101) Hence, on the one hand, a purely descriptivist approach to the history of diplomacy is doomed to fail from the outset, since all we get is a myriad of empirical examples fitting a prefabricated definition (thus bringing us no closer to answering the question of the nature of diplomacy). On the other hand, the antidescriptivist interpretation assumes that necessity is founded on the basis of an originary act of designation (i.e., an initial baptism), thereby highlighting how the desire for power seems to control the meaning (and even the slippages) of a word throughout history. However, the point that we have several possible (and not mutually exclusive), scenes of baptism shows also the forgotten desire in the anti-descriptivist position. Regardless of whether it is the transformations in the meaning of diplōma (from the original Greek meaning “double”), the conversion of the science of diplomatics into the science of diplomacy, or the call for a new diplomacy against its corrupted practices that is assumed to constitute the proper birth of diplomacy, none of them are able to point out the actual meaning that the birth instituted. Instead, and illustrative of the anti-descriptivist failure, Leira avoids presenting the reader with any definition of diplomacy that might be able to capture the “something else” that the term supposedly denoted in the revolutionary struggle for power. The inability to point to the object of diplomacy (even if it is an ideal object) that this baptism constituted, this “something else” beyond politics and negotiation, must not be reduced to the historicist problem of knowing historical events in and of themselves. Thus, it is not the case that today we are unable to access what the revolutionaries or Neckham intended, since the antidescriptivist approach assumes that this rigid designation between object and name, while not necessarily remaining exactly the same, at the very least remains in the hands of the big Other. This, as Žižek notes, is due to a problem internal to the logic of antidescriptivism: What is at stake here [in the act of naming] is precisely the problem of the “fulfilment of desire”: when we encounter in reality an object which has all the properties of the fantasized object of desire, we are nevertheless necessarily somewhat disappointed; we experience a certain “this is not it”; it becomes evident that the finally found real object is not the reference of desire even though it possesses all the required properties. (2008, 100–101) What the antidescriptivist approach misses is, in other words, the objet a inscribed into the concept from its very inception: the fact that not even the revolutionaries themselves were able to define this “something else” over which they fought the ancien régime. What this means is that even if the revolutionaries had achieved founding a New Diplomacy of the republican state, it would most certainly have been rejected as not being the “real thing.” This enigmatic

The naming of diplomacy   65 object of desire is the inscription of the subject’s desire in the world of things, a lack of the object appearing as a certain incompleteness. Notably, this is also where the problem returns in the seemingly unending stream of new definitions of diplomacy, always failing in their own unique way. This illustrates how, in the context of the historiography of diplomacy, the problems associated with descriptivism and anti-descriptivism are just two sides of the same coin. Where does all of this leave us? For if the descriptivist approach misses the big Other, and the antidescriptivist fails to recognize the small other (or objet a), how are we to understand Žižek’s important contribution to this discussion, namely the accent he places on the “radical contingency of naming”? Žižek’s points regarding the differences between descriptivism and antidescriptivism allow us to answer two questions when confronted with the history of diplomacy, pointing both to the problem of the name itself and to the question of the status of diplomacy with respect to the mutually exclusive alternatives of either its historical specificity or its ontological invariance. On the one hand, as an answer to those who claim that diplomacy simply names an ahistorical (perhaps anthropological) feature of human societies we must insist that the naming constitutes a contingent event that only retroactively offers us a history. It does not mean that relations between different societies did not exist prior to the French Revolution, only that the name diplomacy represented a cut with earlier forms, illustrating the hypothesis that diplomacy is a fundamentally modern invention. On the back of this, however, it does not necessarily follow that diplomacy is just a historically contingent construction open to an indefinite number of descriptors. What defines it and, indeed, what allows it to return in different formations since the French Revolution, is precisely the very gap, missed by both the descriptivist and the antidescriptivist perspective on the history of the name: what defines diplomacy is not some specific trait or positive description, but a negation of an existing lack or antagonism offering, in the stead of this failure, a diplomatic objet a and a fantasy regulating its relationship to the subject. Thus, in order to answer the question of what diplomacy is, it is necessary to try to locate this spectral object as it has been retroactively inscribed upon its name. The fact that diplomacy, since its birth, has provoked such lively debate illustrates that we are here dealing with a name in the proper sense of a Master Signifier, capable of holding together an entire field or chain of other signifiers. The fact that the Master Signifier of diplomacy is a knot to which countless meanings can be quilted does not imply that it is simply the “richest” word, the word in which is condensed all the richness of meaning of the field it “quilts”: the point de capiton is rather the word which, as a word, on the level of the signifier itself, unifies a given field, constitutes its identity: it is, so to speak, the word to which “things” themselves refer to recognize themselves in their unity. (Žižek 2008, 105) An analysis of diplomacy as an Ideological State Apparatus is thus an attempt to reach the nature of diplomacy by means of its role as a Master

66   What is in a name? Signifier, that is, a quilting point, which discloses the kernel of enjoyment that diplomacy as a name has been able to sustain from the end of the eighteenth century until today.

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The naming of diplomacy   67 Nicolson, Harold. 1954. The Evolution of Diplomatic Method: Being the Chichele Lectures Delivered at the University of Oxford in November 1953. London: Constable & Co. Numelin, Ragnar. 1950. The Beginnings of Diplomacy: A Sociological Study of ­Intertribal and International Relations. London: Oxford University Press. Paine, Thomas. 2009. “Rights of Man.” In Peter Linebaugh Presents Thomas Paine: Common Sense, Rights of Man and Agrarian Justice, edited by Jessica Laurel Kimpell, 61–169. London: Verso. Queller, Donald E. 1967. The Office of Ambassador in the Middle Ages. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Ragionieri, Rodolfo. 2000. “The Amarna Age: An International Society in the Making.” In Amarna Diplomacy: The Beginnings of International Relations, 42–53. Baltimore, Md.: Johns Hopkins University Press. Rudolph, Harriet. 2016. “Entangled Objects and Hybrid Practices? Material Culture as a New Approach to the History of Diplomacy.” In Material Culture in Modern Diplomacy from the 15th to the 20th Century, edited by Harriet Rudolph, 1–28. Berlin: De Gruyter. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110463217-001. Satow, Ernest. 2011. A Guide to Diplomatic Practice, Vol. I. Cambridge, Mass.: ­Cambridge University Press. Watkins, John. 2008. “Toward a New Diplomatic History of Medieval and Early Modern Europe.” Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies 38 (1): 1–14. https://doi. org/10.1215/10829636-2007-016. Žižek, Slavoj. 2008. The Sublime Object of Ideology. 2nd ed. London: Verso. Žižek, Slavoj. 2014. The Most Sublime Hysteric: Hegel with Lacan. Translated by Thomas Scott-Railton. Cambridge, Mass.: Polity.

Part II

Diplomacy as Archi-Politics

4 The beginnings of diplomacy

The beginnings of diplomacy Following the claim in the previous chapter that the naming of diplomacy is linked to some kind of transformation of the political situation during the French Revolution, a number of questions demand our attention. Initially, it is important to ask how to characterize this link between the seismic political events of the overthrow of the ancien régime and the modern birth of diplomacy, in other words, what is made possible through the otherwise contingent nomination of diplomacy in order to understand the ideological field it offered in which a barred subject and its objective counterpart could find their places. Another important aspect to highlight is Žižek’s psychoanalytic point that a nomination is never complete: if a symbolic structure includes a gap, something that does not fit within it will, at the same time, define the very core of that structure. On this basis it ought to be reasonable to ask not only what is made possible by the nomination of diplomacy, but also what is now considered impossible, what, in other words, defines the field of diplomacy by being forgotten in and through the act of naming? Although only making use of the concept of diplomacy twice in his text ­Perpetual Peace: A Philosophical Essay, the diplomatic theme runs through Kant’s attempt to end all wars. The fact that the text is written in the form of a treaty, presenting what he calls both his preliminary and his definitive articles of a perpetual peace, only furthers the interpretation that Kant is following the ­revolutionaries claiming that the new republic also needed a new diplomacy. Another aspect of Kant’s text makes it crucial to the questions asked here: ­Perpetual Peace offers the reader a mythic origin of both the diplomacy and the politics of the republican state, pointing out the connection between Kant’s ideas and the transformation represented by the nomination of diplomacy. In a note relating to a discussion on the inception of the fantasy object, Žižek describes how Kant’s myth assumes that “at the dawn of history, savages concluded the first ‘social contract’ because of ‘pathological’ considerations (to survive, to insure their ‘egotistical’ interests, etc.), not because of their inherent moral stance” (2008, 226, n.30.). A central question in Kant’s text is thus the very problem that animates this investigation into diplomacy, i.e., the narrating of origins.

72   Diplomacy as Archi-Politics While the nomination of diplomacy signals the introduction of a new law ­organized around a Master Signifier, the act of naming simultaneously makes the narrating of origins possible. This is also why we can see, already in the early nineteenth century, the first writings presenting themselves as histories of diplomacy or diplomatic relations, something which, just a century earlier, would have been unimaginable. Thus, as we saw in relation to Žižek’s critique of anti-descriptivism, the history of diplomacy only becomes necessary, that is, its history only appears to have followed a certain unavoidable path, after the entirely contingent event of naming and because of the object of desire inscribed within it. But what is the nature of this history and, more importantly, what is its function within the realm of post-revolutionary thought? As noted, we will here approach the questions of this book from two sides: the objective and the subjective, presenting us with the two constituents of a fundamental fantasy. Thus, what the revolutionaries called new diplomacy, the inauguration of which coincides with the actual invention of the term diplomacy, constitutes the objective side of this Möbius strip, in contradistinction to its subjective side, found in what has been described as the shift from the ambassador to the diplomat – from the servant embodying his Master to the professional negotiating between states. The attempt to understand the invention of diplomacy during and after the French Revolution will thus be undertaken from two angles: on the one hand, the objective side of Kant’s Perpetual Peace and, on the other, the subjective side of diplomacy that finds expression in the character of Lambert Strether in Henry James’ novel The Ambassadors. After a short introduction and resumé of each text, Kant and Strether will be read together with the aim of drawing out what we might call the ideology of early diplomacy. On the matter of Kant, we note that although many texts are considered to mark the beginning of diplomatic thought, Kant’s Perpetual Peace holds a special place within the tradition of International Relations often referred to as Idealism. Albeit in no sense the first to postulate the possibility of a perpetual peace, Kant brings together the spirit of republicanism with the promise of a new diplomacy while retaining a sonority throughout. This places Kant’s text at a certain distance philosophically from agitative tracts that, among his contemporaries, extoled the virtues of diplomacy, as well as texts written with a more historical orientation on the topic penned by early political scientists. Perpetual Peace, in this sense, gives Thomas Paine’s idea of a diplomacy for all human kind (and not just for the monarchs) a properly philosophical grounding. Even though more than a century separates Kant from James’ The Ambassadors, the firm belief in the promise of the ideals of the French Revolution brings the spirit of Kant’s proclamations close to that of our first ambassadorial subject, Lambert Strether. Together, Kant and Strether represent the spirit of early diplomacy which, although already contested, almost from the outset, came to define not only diplomatic practice but also early thinking on the topic of International Relations from the French Revolution to the First World War. For this part of our inquiry, the following questions will serve as a guide: how, from out of the texts of Kant and James, is this discourse of archi-political diplomacy

The beginnings of diplomacy   73 constructed? What are its symptoms and what antagonism is perceivable behind the forgetting of the original impossibility of the harmonious One of the state? As already illustrated by the choice of the term archi-politics, this early formation of a fantasy of diplomacy is assumed to be based on denial; we are searching for an antagonism for which the writers, while conscious of it, are in denial of its defining role. As such, the reading of the character of Strether from James’ novel The Ambassadors will follow the methodological route taken by Lacan in his famous seminar on Poe’s The Purloined Letter. In this gallery of ambassadors, what is in focus is the effect of the signifying chain and how foreclosure, repression, or denial determine the (ambassadorial) subject. How does each of them relate to the ways in which the name (of diplomacy) allows for a certain displacement? We are in search of the gap that makes representation impossible, an attempt at “demonstrating in a story the major determination the subject receives from the itinerary [parcours] of a signifier” since “a fable even has the advantage of manifesting symbolic necessity all the more purely in that we might be inclined to believe it is governed by the arbitrary”(Lacan 2006, 7). By tracing the subjective side of the itinerary of diplomacy, that is, in locating the different sites at which an ambassadorial subject can appear under the pretense of arbitrariness, the hope is that a necessity for the signifier of diplomacy will show itself. Reading Strether together with Kant is thus not simply an exercise in pointing out a homology or a structural likeness. Instead they will be read as two sides of the same coin, that is, as two inextricably linked attempts to deal with the void within a given negation. Reading diplomacy as archi-politics also provides us with an initial approach to this fantasy formation: as already mentioned, it relates to the question of origins (for Kant and James’ Strether alike, of the origins of cohabitating peacefully). Thus, here we shall focus on the fantasy of this ideology; how it is formed through denial and how this denial later, according to psychoanalytic theory, by necessity returns. Furthermore, if this ideology is to be defined by and through denial then this means that we are looking for a certain neurotic structure; denial (the attempt to escape a deadlock which nevertheless remains) needs to be sustained by the incessant activity of keeping the denied thing at bay. In other words, archi-political diplomacy must be defined by a frantic activity designed only to prevent any real thing from happening. The task of the following analysis of Kant and Strether is, in other words, to formulate the subjective and objective effects of the naming of diplomacy. After offering a short introduction to both texts, we will thus begin our analysis by focusing on the function of the archi-political fantasy as a protective screen. The peace of Kant and Strether Kant’s reflections on state-to-state relationships have played an important part in the field of International Relations ever since its formation as a sub-field of Political Science during the first half of the twentieth century. Although it is possible to find what can be considered comments on diplomacy and foreign policy

74   Diplomacy as Archi-Politics scattered across his political oeuvre, the essay Perpetual Peace, first published in 1795, has been, and remains, the primary text of interest to the field. Traditionally, interpretations and comments on the text within the field of Political Science have been divided into two categories or approaches: “statist” and ­“universalist.” The former accentuates Kant’s commitment to the nation-state as the unavoidable horizon of international politics, while the latter highlights his fidelity to the idea of a global community of peace and harmony. The statist and the universalist approaches both arose as attempts to answer perhaps the most central opposition in Perpetual Peace, namely, that between retaining the complete autonomy of the republican nation-state (the expression of the will of the people) while still, somehow, submitting the individual states to a supranational or international system of laws which guarantee an everlasting peace. Considering that Perpetual Peace is the most referenced of Kant’s texts within International Relations, it comes as no surprise that his primary contribution to the field can be found in the topic of international law. Even prior to Kant’s intervention, international law was, to a great extent, the primary subject of international thought, initially defined by thinkers associated with the ­tradition of Natural Law, including names such as Hugo Grotius, Samuel von Pufendorf, and Thomas Hobbes. This tradition, in a very general sense, attempts to derive a set of absolute laws from the nature of humankind (regardless of whether it has a divine or natural origin). However, natural law does not, traditionally, include the management of the relationship between sovereigns since it is not considered part of the “law of nature” but of the “voluntary law of nations” (Grotius 1901, II.18.I). By defining the law between sovereigns as voluntary, scholars of natural law traditionally claimed that the rights concerning the sending and receiving of envoys were solely a question of the willingness and honesty of individual sovereigns. Relationships between sovereigns are thus, in their natural state, described as constituting a field of lawless anarchy. Kant’s own relationship to the philosophers of natural law is ambiguous. On the one hand he, for instance, adheres more or less explicitly to Hobbes’ idea of the state of nature, while still trying to go beyond the understanding of International Relations as defined by anarchy through introducing the idea of the necessity of a federation of states. It is this move that has often defined Kant (sometimes together with Hegel) as a figure of great modernization in the philosophy of international law during the late eighteenth century, especially regarding the question of the unavoidable presence of war. However, as noted, Kant has not only been seen as a progressive figure in International Relations. Martin Wight did, for instance, present Kant as the primary example of the tradition called Idealism or Revolutionism, aiming not to reform the modern state-system, but to replace it with a new empire or a world state (1992, 41–42). For Wight, as well as for his followers, Kant thus presents one side of a continuum (Idealism as advocating a global state) that is diametrically opposed to an extreme Realism that asserts total anarchy and the uncontrolled violence between states. Turning to the text, after the initial publication in 1795, a second edition was  quickly published the following year, this time with the addition of two

The beginnings of diplomacy   75 appendixes. During the first half of 1795, Prussia had signed a peace treaty with the French Revolutionary government, effectively putting an end to the war between the two states. The treaty allegedly offered Kant both joy and sorrow, and his text can thus to a great extent be read as his answer to this treaty, as well as an attempt to make sense of the Revolution and the succeeding Revolutionary Wars. The pamphlet, aimed at a general public, made use of the format of a peace treaty, initially stating six preliminary articles of a perpetual peace. These theses serve as an illustration of his understanding of the issues surrounding diplomacy. In short, the six articles forbid states from declaring peace with the hidden intent to continue a war, to acquire other states through inheritance, purchase, exchange or as gift, and to interfere in the internal affairs of another state. Moreover, the articles attempted to reduce the risk of war by calling for the gradual abolition of standing armies and by prohibiting states from accumulating national debt in external affairs. Finally, the text urges all states to refrain from the use of any means of war that might critically endanger any possibility of a future peace. In the second part of the text, Kant moves on to the definitive articles of a perpetual peace. In this section, Kant introduces the difference between forms of sovereignty (aristocracy, autocracy, and democracy), and forms of government (republicanism and despotism). What this categorization allows for is a distinction between the proper and the improper use of power based in the question of whether or not a state is governed in harmony with the will of its people. The first of the definitive articles states that it is necessary for every state to be republican, if, that is, perpetual peace is to be achieved. The fundamental idea undergirding Kant’s argument is that a people, regardless of whether it is an aristocracy, a demos or a sole ruler expressing their will, will always go to great lengths to avoid war since it is the people that, in the end, pay the price. Republicanism is, as such, the condition for attaining perpetual peace, making it possible for states to join together in a “federation of free states.” This “peaceful federation,” according to Kant, should not be understood as a treaty ending any specific war, but rather as an end to war altogether. Against the idea of ­sovereigns existing in a natural state of lawless freedom and engaging in an ineluctable war of all against all, Kant draws the following analogy: the anarchy between states is understood as the mirror image of the anarchy between savages. Hence, the second level of Kant’s argument adds the prerequisite of international law, demanding that all republican states join together in a federation, since it is their duty to strive for a perpetual peace. Finally, in the third article, Kant reaches the level of cosmopolitan law, highlighting how the law of nations, in the last instance, is supposed to be a way to ensure the safety of the citizens of all states. As already remarked upon, Kant’s original was supplemented with two further addenda on the guarantee of perpetual peace, the first of which expands on the natural basis of the law between nations while the second, much shorter, defines the relationship between the philosopher and the sovereign. Here Kant presents the “way nature guarantees the coming of perpetual peace, through the

76   Diplomacy as Archi-Politics natural course of human propensities” (1917, 157), meaning that a peaceful diplomatic federation of states is a natural solution to the problem of war, since this original predisposition for peace supposedly also holds for states in cooperation. In the second addenda, he also points out that every sovereign must “allow all to discuss freely and publicly the universal maxims governing the conduct of war and establishment of peace” (Kant 1917, 159 [transl. mod.]), ensuring that no fusion between reason and power would occur. The two appendixes added by Kant for the second edition discuss the relationship between morals, politics, and law. More specifically, they treat the ­supposed antagonism between theory and practice when it comes to the establishment of law. In the first appendix, he answers those skeptics who claim that since humans are naturally violent and laws are ultimately an ideal construct, no diplomatic law will be able to entirely rid international politics of particular interests, something considered necessary if a perpetual peace is to be achieved. In the second, Kant begins in the opposite problem, taking issue with those who believe that the law should be established without any consideration for practice. This idea, Kant opposes to the necessary publicity of the law: a law without a connection to the actual practicality of politics, that is, a law which cannot be discussed freely, is not a proper law since it is only based in authority. Perpetual peace is thus not an empty idea of a finalized utopian state, [b]ut rather we have here a problem which gradually draws closer to its own solution and, as the periods in which a given advance takes place towards the realisation of the ideal of perpetual peace will, we hope, become with the passing of time shorter and shorter, we must approach ever nearer to this goal. (Kant 1917, 196) Contrary to what the field of IR-theory has sought to demonstrate, we should not be tempted to dismiss Kant as a thinker of diplomacy. His obvious issues with the problems of relationships between states, illustrated for instance by his ambiguous relationship to the thinkers of natural law, dismissing them as “sorry comforters” yet on many occasions repeating their arguments, points to the fact that diplomacy poses a conundrum for Kant. This, together with the issues encountered by Political Scientists when trying to categorize Kant within the canon of International Relations-thought, urges us to confront Kant as a thinker of diplomacy. The task is thus not to treat Kant in the fashion popular among political scientists, that is, by laying out Kant’s explicit argument in order to judge whether or not it offers a proper depiction of, and a viable solution for, the topic of diplomacy (which usually leads to the dismissal of Kant as a moralist, a utopian or an idealist). Rather, it should force us to read these issues as internal, not only to the object that Kant is treating, but to the time in which he was treating it. Only in this way is it possible to understand him as representing something new while, at the same time, clinging to the old. Our image of archi-political diplomacy would, however, not be complete without the subjective side, found in Lambert Strether, the main character of

The beginnings of diplomacy   77 Henry James’ The Ambassadors, a novel first published as a series in North American Review in 1903. The attempt is, as noted, to read Kant and Strether together, as constituting two sides of the Möbius strip, meaning that we, at any given moment in the analysis, can turn from the objective to the subjective side of the diplomatic signifier. Just as is the case with Kant’s hopes for a perpetual peace, Lambert Strether, the proverbial ambassador from Woollett, Massachusetts on a stint in Europe, wishes to bring an end to all conflicts. James himself, as well as the middle-aged envoy thought to be at least partially sculpted in his image, thus treats, in this novel, the opposition between America and Europe, with Strether acting as the inbetweener. Although references to the theme of diplomacy appear in many of the comments on The Ambassadors and the character of ­Strether, few go beyond the everyday understanding of the concept, that is, to signify a (false) sense of politeness in speech used to hide other intentions. In contrast to this, the attempt here will be to follow the opposite trajectory, not what diplomacy, in some everyday understanding, highlights in James’ novel, but what in the novel can be derived from the effects and implications of the signifier. In the opening scene of The Ambassadors, Lewis Lambert Strether – whose point of view the reader follows throughout the book – is just arriving at his hotel in England after the arduous journey across the Atlantic Ocean. He is sent to Europe as an envoy, entrusted with the mission of his fiancée, the wealthy heiress and widow Mrs. Newsome, to save her young son Chad from the claws of what is believed to be a degenerate European woman. Although being, by his own account, “dog-tired” when setting out on his journey, Strether, when confronted with the “note of Europe,” experiences a sudden shift in his mood. It is not simply that he is happier, but rather that he is more energetic, a feeling ascribed to a certain “double consciousness” attaching itself to his task. While trying to postpone his meeting with his old friend, a fellow American and lawyer named Mr. Waymarsh, Strether is immediately swept away by a young American woman, Maria Gostrey, claiming to also be an acquaintance of the lawyer from Milrose. This young lady goes on to follow Strether and Mr. Waymarsh from England to Paris on their mission to find the long-lost Chad, who had already prolonged his initially planned six months of sightseeing around Europe to five years. When arriving in Paris, Strether finds out that Chad recently left the city. Hence, the ambassador takes the opportunity to enjoy Paris with his friends, now including two of Chad’s own acquaintances, the young Ms. Barrace and the artist John Little Bilham. One day, Maria Gostrey mysteriously gets hold of a box at the Théâtre Français and invites Strether and Waymarsh to join her. During one of the intermissions, just as their discussion regarding Chad and Little Bilham’s plans are interrupted by the rise of the curtain, the door behind them opens and Chad enters. Shortly after Chad’s return, Little Bilham provides the information that ­Strether so desperately had been seeking: that it is not one, but two women, a mother and a daughter, that constitute Chad’s attachment to Paris. However, Little Bilham later assures him, this attachment is an entirely “virtuous” one. This event constitutes the beginning of Strether’s true diplomatic task: to negotiate a

78   Diplomacy as Archi-Politics solution which would satisfy all the parties: Chad, Madame de Vionnet, and her daughter Jeanne; Mrs. Newsome, Mr. Waymarsh, and the town of Woollett; as well as his newfound friends Ms. Gostray, Little Bilham, and Ms. Barrace. Initially convinced that the reason why Chad has failed to return home is his desire to marry Jeanne, Strether soon finds out that it is the mother rather than the daughter who is accountable for Chad’s attachment, and thus he promises Madame de Vionnet not to speak for them, but to tell Mrs. Newsome the “truth” in an attempt to save them both. However, disappointed with the slow progress of her ambassador’s work, Mrs. Newsome informs her envoy and her son that the latter’s sister Sarah, her husband Jim, and Jim’s younger sister Mamie (whom Mrs. Newsome hopes that Chad will marry), will set sail for Europe at their first opportunity. What ensues with the arrival of the new delegation is a battle of wills and desires in which Strether tries to negotiate between the new ambassadors and Europe, convincing the Americans that Europe is truly “wonderful.” However, face with several defeats, Strether decides to take a day of in the French countryside, but there he runs into Madame de Vionnet and Chad. After awkwardly joining Strether, who unknowingly stayed at the same inn as the lovers, a forced dinner is followed by a joint trip back to Paris, with Marie and Chad trying to pretend that they had not intended to stay longer than a day. Strether can thus no longer avoid confronting the truth; their relationship is, and perhaps never was, virtuous. His feeling of being kept in the dark regarding the true nature of the relationship between Chad and Marie is too overpowering, and upon his return to Paris he decides to start preparing his voyage back to the U.S. despite all that has happened. He sees this act of desperation as a final attempt to at least partially complete his mission. Thus, Strether ends his journey by cutting all ties with Madame de Vionnet, whom he had promised to save, and Ms. Gostrey, who, at their final meetings, offers him her love, along with his dream of Europe.

The origins of peace Let us begin this part with a short exposition on the concept of archi-politics. In his analysis of what he calls political philosophy, that is, “the set of reflective operations whereby philosophy tries to rid itself of politics” (Rancière 1999, xii), Rancière initially formulates three figures of the forgetting of the proper political disagreement: archi-politics, para-politics, and meta-politics. At its most fundamental, archi-politics functions as the elimination of the difference between the law and its foundation in the extra-legal act. This is achieved through replacing the imbalance that reveals itself in the “part of no-part” with the fantasy of “a community based on the complete realization of the arkhē of community” (Rancière 1999, 65). In other words, archi-politics consists in replacing what appears as the illegitimate origin of the law (the extra-legal act of founding the law) with a fantasy offering a scene of the beginning of society as a full and harmonious community. While both following and deviating from Žižek’s reading of Rancière, we will treat this originally Platonic repression of politics as defined by a Freudian negation. But we will choose to identify the

The beginnings of diplomacy   79 specific negation at play here not as an instance of disavowal but as a denial. As such, archi-politics corresponds to the structure of fantasy in the psychoanalytic sense which, in its most basic formula, acts as a screen protecting the subject from the horrors of the founding, and thus, castrating act. What is revealed through this is the return of what appears out-of-place, the objet petit a, as the fact that the law is not One; the founding of society leaves something – an object which does not fit in – unaccounted for. So as not to be overcome with anxiety when faced with this object, the fantasy of the origin must thus act as a “support of desire” through which “[t]he subject sustains himself as desiring in relation to an even more complex signifying ensemble” (Lacan 1998, 60). The fantasy, in other words, shields the subject from the horrifying fact that this part of no-part, this remainder of the founding of the law, keeps returning, meaning that it “is never more than a screen that conceals something quite primary, something determinant in the function of repetition” (Lacan 1998, 185). By denying the founding antagonism, the core of the lost object returns in the guise of symptoms forcing the subject to repeat the initiation of the protective screen forming a temporary shield against this haunting element. With these basic formulae in place, let us now continue with an analysis of the two texts – James’ The Ambassadors and Kant’s Perpetual Peace – under consideration. James’ novel shares certain characteristics with the painting that allegedly provided it with its name. Just as in Hans Holbein’s The Ambassadors, an unnamed thing seems to be hiding in plain sight throughout the story, acting as the so-called object-cause of desire. This, of course, is that little unnameable object produced in the Newsome family factory in Woollett. But to be able to locate its specific place, and thus to understand how diplomacy might play a part in Strether’s final refusal of Ms. Gostrey, our first task should be to capture the fantasy regulating the subject’s relationship to the object, in other words, to locate them both in their fantasmatic context. To achieve this, let us begin with Strether’s famous double consciousness. It is obvious that this split, at least at first, invigorates the formerly “dog-tired” Strether, infusing him with a sense of happiness and vigor (James 1903, 21). Hence, what initially appeared as a simple, yet tiresome, mission to impose the will of his fiancée, simply saving her innocent young son from the decadence of Europe, is now, when confronted with the “note” of Europe, transformed into something else. In his attempts to postpone his inevitable meeting with Waymarsh after arriving in England, this internal split is characterized as follows: That he was prepared to be vague to Waymarsh about the hour of the ship’s touching, and that he both wanted extremely to see him and enjoyed extremely the duration of the delay – these things, it is to be conceived, were early signs in him that his relation to his actual errand might prove none of the simplest. He was burdened, poor Strether […] with the oddity of a double consciousness. There was detachment in his zeal and curiosity in his indifference. (James 1903, 4)

80   Diplomacy as Archi-Politics An opposition plagues Strether. On the one hand he experiences a distance, a certain indifference to his task of escorting Chad safely back to Woollett, while on the other hand, within this feeling of detachment, a certain interest arises in relation to the circumstances of the task itself, that is, of negotiating between America (desiring Chad’s return) and Paris (wanting him to stay). There is no longer only one world, Woollett’s “society of women” as Strether later describes it (James 1903, 258), there are two worlds in competition with each other and without any authority helping Strether to choose between them. Precisely, it is this situation which leaves him feeling both invigorated and anxious. The split between the United States and Europe does not only exist on the level of ­Strether’s own consciousness, it is also embodied in the two characters that accompany him throughout the entirety of his mission: the self-proclaimed “agent of repatriation” Maria Gostrey and the stern lawyer from Milrose, Mr.  Waymarsh. In Ms. Gostrey, representing Europe, Strether finds his ­American preconceptions questioned. Such is the case, for example, on the occasion of their first meeting when Ms. Gostrey asks if he knows whether or not the woman who ensnared the young Chad actually poses a threat to him and his future. This act of confronting innocent Americans with the ways of a European, is something that Maria will later describe as her “formula,” conceived to “re-people our stricken country” with the kind of freedom that Europe has to offer. Against this image of ­European freedom and enjoyment stands Waymarsh, who “for his part [is] joyless” with everything European: Europe was best described, to his [Waymarsh’s] mind, as an elaborate engine for dissociating the confined American from that indispensable knowledge [about what was going on], and was accordingly only rendered bearable by these occasional stations of relief, traps for the arrest of wandering western airs. (James 1903, 54) “Dog-tired” from a conflict-less world left behind, what Strether encounters upon arriving on the shores of Europe appears in the form of two divisions similar to that which preoccupied Plato, two attempts of distinguishing between politics in its supposed “true” origins, wherein the different parts of the community come together as One, and its false deviations, forming a social order still “bound up with the conflict between parts of the city and with the domination of one part over the others” (Rancière 1999, 63–64). In other words, ­Strether is faced with two tales of proper origins and their descent into conflict. Our ambassador is therefore faced with not one but two versions of what Žižek calls James’ “vision of American innocence as opposed to European decadence” (2009, 140–141), which it is possible to formulate in terms of conflicting ­interpretations surrounding the division between old and new diplomacy. Strether can either follow Ms. Gostrey, thereby reading the division in terms of ­backwards American traditionalism slowly deteriorating due to old hierarchies and conservative fears of change (old diplomacy), and the new diplomacy of

The beginnings of diplomacy   81 progressive European freedom enabling every subject to enjoy, or he can side with Mr. Waymarsh in contrasting the innovative and progressive American market (new diplomacy) with the flattery, deceit, and false sense of freedom in the old kingdoms and their aristocratic understanding of diplomacy. What ­initially had appeared as a task of representing his fiancée, of guaranteeing her and America’s victory over the European continent, which in its perceived decadence threatens Woollett’s existence, thus turns into a task of having to negotiate between two recognizable counterparts expressing legitimate desires. He can no longer just be the embodiment of his master. The fact that for Strether, no authority is able to prescribe the proper way out of this undecidable situation means that he is also forced to confront a situation also in which his own desire can be judged on its own merits, meaning that his actions might be considered honorable or despicable regardless of whether or not he follows the will of his Master. Faced with these new possibilities of uncertainty, Strether experiences, for the first time since he visited Europe in his youth, the moral question raised by his own desire as Maria introduces him to the joys of Europe: Should he allow her to bring him fully into this society or should he remain estranged and detached? The fact that these two worlds appear to him as equally honorable, and that Strether nevertheless feels the pressure to choose between them, is what makes him, as Thomas Paine famously described Benjamin Franklin, into a diplomat of man and not of the old courts. As soon as he arrives in Europe, Strether has not simply come to ensure the safety and prosperity of his Master by representing her, but rather he has come, as a diplomat faced with a choice in a clash of desires, to negotiate a solution that benefits all parties. This illustrates how ­Strether’s newfound diplomatic problem, the thing which invigorates his spirit, is intrinsically modern. However, this competition of desires is not simply refreshing and stimulating for this envoy. Instead, his own desire begins to haunt him. What seems to disturb Strether at first is the real possibility that he will be forced to choose sides, giving up either his fiancée’s mission or his European freedom. According to Žižek, the only protection against such a potentially devastating situation – the impossibility of bringing desires together that haunt both Strether’s mission and the relations between states in general – is the creation of a fantasy in the form of a protective screen, a tale of a mythic origin wherein no conflict existed. In Perpetual Peace, Kant performs a similar move as he goes on to consider the question of the natural state of humans, which he answers following the Hobbesian idea of bellum omnium contra omnes. Kant writes: “A state of peace among men who live side by side [neben einander] is not the natural state (status naturalis), which is rather to be described as a state of war” (1917, 117–118). The only thing that can counteract this natural state of war is, as he goes on to proclaim in the first definitive article on a perpetual peace, a republican constitution arising out of “the idea of the original contract upon which the lawful legislation of every nation must be based” (Kant 1917, 120). In other words: humans are, naturally, in a state of constant war, and the only possibility of ending it is if a social contract is entered into. What is ­portrayed in Kant’s text is thus a mythical scene in which humans, as savages,

82   Diplomacy as Archi-Politics originally “cling to a lawless freedom,” before they decide, owing to their natural tendency toward rational thought, to end the primordial spiral of violence by coming together and marching toward civilization. Furthermore, the fact that these mythical savages take part in the first “original contract” in an attempt to move beyond the natural state of war also entails, for Kant, that republicanism must be understood as the positive side of “the use of power,” for it is the only form of power able to fully express the “will of the people” necessary to form this contract. This positive, or republican, side of governing a society finds, for Kant, its opposite in despotism. The divide between these two forms of governing, between laws formulated upon the will of the people (i.e., republicanism) and despotic laws created and arbitrarily executed by one and the same power, appears to correspond to Rancière’s understanding of Plato’s archaic division of politics, by which the latter is able to naturalize the existing law while discarding what appears as its arbitrary inauguration by the Master. In other words: the difference between republicanism and despotism parallels Plato’s archi-political divide between what Rancière calls the divine and a perishable model of politics, rejecting it and offering up philosophy in its stead (1999, 63). Such an act of elimination, i.e., replacing the irrepressible antagonism with the myth of a harmonious original state, constitutes what, in psychoanalysis, is known as a denial, namely the introduction of a fantasmatic screen through which the existence of any conflict is denied. Thus, in understanding the Kantian distinction of the mythical savage and the originary contract in terms of a denial, it is important to point out how, when Kant narrates the transformation from ­savagery to republican civility, something is also, of necessity, eliminated or ­forgotten in order to preserve an object of desire. The issue we need to confront is therefore two-fold: on the one hand, to identify what precisely the fantasy eliminates, and on the other, to understand what the fantasmatic screen saves. The reason why Kant chooses to begin his text with the question of republicanism is not simply that it is “pure in its origins,” but more importantly, he claims, because its constitution holds the prospects of a perpetual peace, meaning that this peace can only be achieved when every state is constituted in a republican manner (1917, 122). In other words: the structure of the republican constitution supposedly holds the secret of how a successful diplomacy is achievable. He thus begins his second definitive article by explicitly formulating an analogy between these two levels, between the original scene preceding both politics and proper diplomacy, by writing: “Nations, as states, may be judged like individuals who, living in the natural state of society – that is to say, ­uncontrolled by external law – injure one another through their very proximity” (Kant 1917, 128). It is in this depiction that the main difference between Kant and his predecessors in the philosophy of international law shows itself. Although they all subscribe to some idea of the social contract as the foundation of the state, the second term in the analogy, what we might call diplomacy, displays a certain difference of opinion. Instead of limiting the power of the initial contract to only cover individuals in a state, thus leaving the relationships between states to pure anarchy (e.g., Grotius and Hobbes), Kant’s solution

The beginnings of diplomacy   83 s­upposedly transforms this opposition between law and autonomy. Instead of understanding the law as a potential threat to the autonomy of the savage, the very institution of the law becomes the primary expression of the subject’s ­autonomy: just as it is the savage’s natural duty to join with other savages to form a state (thereby ensuring protection from violence through public law), this duty, in the moment of becoming a citizen, is transformed, turning a natural inclination toward creating peace between individuals into the establishment of a peace between states (and thereby ensuring the citizen’s protection from violence through international law). So long as it acts in accordance with the will of the people, any state has a duty, Kant claims, to act toward forming a peaceful federation of states, ensuring not only its own safety but, ultimately, the safety of its citizens. In other words, the same moral logic of loss and gain, which ­supposedly forces the savage to become a citizen, applies to a citizen’s state, which is compelled to form a league of nations with other states. Kant thus seems to narrate a myth of a kind of diplomatico-republican savage, according to which the analogy between savages and states provides the final argument for the possibility of his dream of a perpetual peace. But is the analogy really able to solve the problem of going from peace within a state to peace between states? Before answering this question, let us first return to Strether’s myth. In the clash of desires that confronts Strether as he arrives in Europe, a similar need for a pacifying fantasy arises. The fact that Strether finds himself in a situation that demands diplomatic negotiation between a multiplicity of desires indicates that this constitutes a new social configuration: he has gone from being an ambassadorial subject representing his Master, in order to ensure her survival and prosperity, to a diplomatic subject bestowed with the task of negotiating between desires in order to maximize their respective fulfilment. What thus appeared as a battle between the two incommensurable fantasies of proper politics represented by Ms. Gostray and Mr. Waymarsh, is really part of a shift in the way that the societal link is organized: what initially appeared as a world in which everyone toils to satisfy the desire of the Master (illustrated by his fatigue when setting out for Europe), is replaced with a world structured by and through market relations. In his role as the purveyor of diplomatic knowledge (the chain of signifiers known as ), Strether takes on the continuous and never-ending work of negotiating between a multitude of desires (the object a). Yet, what is gained in the spirit of multiplying desires is at the same time lost in the disintegration of an old moral lifeworld. It is at this point that we locate in Strether what is often described as James’ specific take on modernity, namely the destitution of the moral world that with the fall of feudalism forces the subject to confront the question of morality alone rather than through the lens of a joint community. In a situation in which every subject is, by necessity, the bearer of a desire not guided or restrained by any higher authority, Strether’s mission as an ambassador, assumed initially only to concern the desire of his Master, becomes a burden on him: a split seemingly appears between his mission and a continent that presents even him, the ambassador, as a pure representative supposed to lack any personal desire, with the injunction to enjoy. From Mr. Waymarsh’s

84   Diplomacy as Archi-Politics perspective, this is simply the lure of European decadence which a proper man must resist: “Well, I haven’t known but what you are. You’re a very attractive man, Strether. You’ve seen for yourself,” said Waymarsh, “what that lady downstairs [Ms. Gostrey] makes of it. Unless indeed,” he rambled on with an effect between the ironic and the anxious, “it’s you who are after her. Is Mrs. Newsome over here?” (James 1903, 28) Strether’s answer shows that, after having only recently arrived in Europe, he still thinks like a traditional ambassador, with the mission to safeguard his ­Master’s interest by getting his hands dirty, so the Master will not have to, pointing out how his fiancée is “safe, thank goodness – as I think I more and more feel – at home” (James 1903, 41). However, while Strether continues to enjoy his time in Europe, the anxiety that arises out of this split becomes increasingly hard to handle, and at one point it becomes impossible to deny that he, the ambassador, also desires. In admitting this, Strether is forced to confront the question of what is happening to him. Was it simply the case that a “woman of fashion was floating him into society” while he left his “old friend deserted on the brink”? Did it mean he had been led into temptation and failed his mission before it had even started? Strether’s answer to this accusation, and thus to the situation, is to create a fantasy in which his new desires always coincide with that of his fiancée’s mission, claiming that he “naturally want[s] what my future wife wants” (James 1903, 76). The fantasy regulating Strether’s relationship to the object of desire thus focuses on the ambassadorial side of his subjectivity as a pure representative, denying that the singularity of his own desire could be the cause of a split between him and his future wife. Thus, by understanding every action as coinciding with the desire of his Master, any possible critique is always already rendered invalid since whatever he wants is also what Mrs. Newsome would have wanted: It all sprang at bottom from the beauty of Mrs. Newsome’s desire that he [Strether] should be worried with nothing that was not of the essence of his task; by insisting that he should thoroughly intermit and break she had so provided for his freedom that she would, as it were, have only herself to thank. Strether could not at this point indeed have completed his thought by the image of what she might have to thank herself for: the image, at best, of his own likeness – poor Lambert Strether washed up on the sunny strand by the waves of a single day, poor Lambert Strether thankful for breathingtime and stiffening himself while he gasped. There he was, and with nothing in his aspect or his posture to scandalise: it was only true that if he had seen Mrs. Newsome coming he would instinctively have jumped up to walk away a little. He would have come round and back to her bravely, but he would have had first to pull himself together. (James 1903, 56–57)

The beginnings of diplomacy   85 Strether’s solution to the dilemma Waymarsh points out is to include his own happiness within her desire; he was supposed to take advantage of some “breathingtime” in order to perform his duty of representing her with even more grace and perfection. And so, were he unexpectedly to get caught in his Master’s gaze while gasping for air, all he would need to do is to quickly “pull himself together” and assume the posture of a proper ambassador. This would guarantee that all his innermost desires remain honorable in her eyes, even though they might, at first sight, appear to be in contradiction with his mission. Similar to this fantasy of the harmonious coincidence of desires, the Kantian myth of the savages operates in the guise of a symbolic fiction that describes a blissful and stabilizing state, “a state without disturbances, out of reach of human depravity” (Žižek 2012, 685). As Žižek notes, such a fantasy suggests that we are within the realm of the Master Signifier (), the effects of which, in diplomacy, reveal themselves in Kant’s narration of the peaceful origins of both the republican state and republican diplomacy. Thus, through the formation of this fantasy, it is possible for Kant to claim that it is natural for humans to form alliances, first in states, to end the natural state of violence, and later for those states, in turn, to strive toward living peacefully together through the institution of a diplomatic federation. If, as must be so under this constitution, the consent of the subjects is required to determine whether there shall be war or not, nothing is more natural than that they should weigh the matter well, before undertaking such a bad business. For in decreeing war, they would of necessity be resolving to bring down the miseries of war upon their country. (Kant 1917, 122) This depiction of how wars between states should be eradicated thus follows the same logic as the formation of the first (republican) community of individuals as a defense against barbaric violence. Similar to the original duality at play in the myth of primitive accumulation (i.e., the frugal and intelligent saver investing accumulations and the frivolous spender living beyond their means), the fraudulence of which Marx exposes in the first volume of Capital, the Kantian myth provides us with two mentalities among pre-historic humans: on the one hand, the savage pathologically attached to “lawless freedom” and, on the other, a subject (what we might call the inherently diplomatic subject) who by nature is inclined toward negotiation, compromise, and a quasi-utilitarian approach to agreements. Furthermore, this narrative also provides an answer to the question of the inauguration of the law. Kant writes: This guarantee is given by no less a power than the great artist nature in whose mechanical course is clearly exhibited a predetermined design to make harmony spring from human discord, even against the will of man. […] This Providence we do not, it is true, perceive in the cunning contrivances of nature; nor can we even conclude from the fact of their existence that it is there; but, as in every relation between the form of things and their final

86   Diplomacy as Archi-Politics cause, we can, and must, supply the thought of a Higher Wisdom, in order that we may be able to form an idea of the possible existence of these products after the analogy of human works of art. (Kant 1917, 143–145) Since, according to Kant, humans, as a product of nature, have a natural hostility toward others, this predisposes them to take flight from one another and scatter across the four corners of the globe (since the defeated ones have to leave the scene of battle in search of new pastures). But against this natural impulse of humans to “fight and take flight,” owing to the inhospitality that nature bears within itself, they also rise above their brutish inclinations and are forced to work together. The fact that humankind must live in every region of the Earth means that each individual faces different conditions for survival, and it is the difficult and different material, climatic and topographical circumstances that particular humans face in their efforts to survive that ultimately create the need for cooperation. How else, as Kant puts it, could we survive in the harsh climates of the Arctic or the Sahara Desert if not by virtue of cooperation (providing protection, developing specialized skills, making production more effective, etc.). So, the natural hostility and dispersion, although first divisive, are also what necessitate cooperation and thus give rise to the formulation of law and the constitution of politics. Teleologically, nature prescribes the sociality of and cooperation between human beings. Such a law, whether republican or despotic (and thus serving either a people, a tyrant, an oligarchy or a demos) is what allows a group of humans to transcend the “hunter stage” of human evolution, “undoubtedly most at odds with a civilized constitution,” and to begin their march toward peace. However, two questions remain at this point, illustrating a problem in Kant’s image of a peaceful origin. Primarily, if the state is supposedly just a defense against a war of all against all, is not the choice between republicanism and despotism reduced to individual preference? Furthermore, if individuals are forced to form a state in order to survive, the need for survival does not seem as pertinent for the formation of a league of states, since the state, in contrast to the individual, can survive on its own. Thus, the analogy that Kant draws between savages living in a state of nature and states existing in an anarchic system of states, seems to cover over what later on in our discussion will be described as the internal split of the state, the very fact of which will render impossible the very act of constituting a harmonious state out of savagery. As long as Strether only has to deal with his own desire, the risk of a conflict between his own desires and the goals of his Master, for instance the fact of “liking it [Paris] too much,” can be kept at bay with the help of the fantasy screen that allows him to focus on his ambassadorial task, denying any possible conflict; for “[t]he only engagement he had taken [in Paris], when he looked things in the face, was to do what he reasonably could [to complete his mission]” (James 1903, 62). This soon changes once Chad steps into the box at the Théâtre Français. Initially, when Chad asks Strether whether he believes that the young man has improved from his time in Europe, while conceding that

The beginnings of diplomacy   87 he might have “improved in appearance,” Strether refuses to say if this change may exhibit anything more profound. Soon, however, Chad’s new ways begin to make Strether question his preconceived ideas: The intimation had the next thing, in a flash, taken on a name – a name on which our friend seizes as he asked himself if he weren’t perhaps really dealing with an irreducible young Pagan. […] He had wondered a minute ago if the boy weren’t a Pagan, and he found himself wondering now if he weren’t by chance a gentleman. (James 1903, 107, 110) The letters, arriving via telegram from Mrs. Newsome, reveal an ever more anxious and impatient Master whose consideration for Strether’s own worries is negligible. The ambassador begins to use every available opportunity to postpone that inevitable moment of returning to Woollett with Chad by his side. To complicate matters further, what was assumed to be a decadent woman luring a naïve young man to stay in Europe, turns out to be someone entirely different, causing Strether problems since he “didn’t come out to see this sort.” When pondering the situation together with Ms. Gostrey, he laments that “[i]f she were worse she’d been better for our purpose. It would be simpler” (James 1903, 160). Strether is thus bothered by the fact that he once again is confronted not with a vile, decadent desire, but with one which is “beautiful” and “wonderful,” while still appearing to be at odds with the desires of his Master. Once he promises Chad that he will “surrender” himself to Madame de Vionnet if the young man swears to do the same for Strether, the ambassador also begins to expand his fantasy: what first appeared as an annoying circumstance (that Madame de Vionnet was not some vile woman), is now experienced by Strether through a myth in which all desires in a way naturally converge, a narrative in which beautiful desires, in opposition to the vile and decadent ones, are brought together on account of their righteousness and purity. This, in turn, is what will allow for everyone – Mrs. Newsome, Madame de Vionnet, Chad, and himself included – to each get what they want. Strether points out this very fact when speaking to Little Bilham about Madame de Vionnet’s influence on Chad’s improvement: “The fact remains nevertheless that she [Mme. de Vionnet] has saved him [Chad].” Little Bilham just waited. “I thought that was what you were to do.” But Strether had his answer ready. “I’m speaking – in connection with her – of his manners and morals, his character and life. I’m speaking of him as a person to deal with and talk with and live with – speaking of him as a social animal,” “And isn’t it as a social animal that you also want him?” “Certainly; so that’s as if she had saved him for us.” (James 1903, 197) In a non-conscious act, because the act itself came purely and simply from her own beautiful desire, Madame de Vionnet had saved Chad by turning him

88   Diplomacy as Archi-Politics into a man of culture, far more suited for his future position at the Woollett factory than he was before leaving the United States. It is at this point that ­Strether’s archi-political fantasy is complete and the remnants of the old thinking are left behind: Strether no longer attempts to harmonize any encountered desire with that of his Master. Instead, every desire is possible to define as either vile and disgusting or, “as Miss Barrace called it, wonderful” (James 1903, 173). Strether accordingly moves from a fantasy in which every desire threatened the very existence of his Master (if Chad listens to the vile woman instead of his own mother), to a fantasy in which the expelled are those who strive not for goodness in “manners and morals,” “character and life,” that is, those who refuse to act wonderfully, risking the collapse of society itself. Here, it is as though Kant’s distinction between the proper origin of social life and its false deviation repeats itself. Despite the manifold desires (sometimes violent) that can inhabit subjects encountered in the world, there is, for Strether, a certain inherent civility that draws the subject towards peace and wonderful things. Anyone in favor of the proper organization and development of a society should thus be in favor of furthering the wonderful; it is this that explains Strether’s obsession with improvement: “The only thing he was clear about was that, luckily, nothing indiscreet had in fact been said and that Chad himself was more than ever, in Miss Barrace’s great sense, wonderful” (James 1903, 144). It is this improvement (not only Chad’s but his own, also) that Strether believes will change the minds of the three new ambassadors sent out after his initial failure to bring Chad home. Strether’s task seems to consist in no more than showing the new envoys (Chad’s sister Sarah, her husband Jim, and her sister-in-law Mamie) that the European desires are just as wonderful as their own. We can see this logic at work when Strether fantasizes about his meeting with Sarah Pocock: [I]t would have been scarce a miracle if, there in the luggage room, while they waited for their things, Sarah had pulled his [Strether’s] sleeve and drawn him aside. “You’re right; we haven’t quite known what you mean, Mother and I, but now we see. Chad’s magnificent; what can one want more? If this is the kind of thing – !” On which they might, as it were, have embraced and begun to work together. (James 1903, 256) Strether’s fantasy should not be interpreted as a screen protecting him from the actual failures of persuading Sarah to see the beauty of European desire, but rather, as Žižek puts it apropos a subject’s indulgence in daydreaming, “[t]he delusion resides elsewhere: this daydreaming is a screen which provides a misleading image of myself – not only of my capacities, but also of my true desires” (2007, 184, n.76, [emphasis added]). Hence, the problem of the fantasy is not that it lies about everyone else, but that it prevents Strether from knowing the truth of his own desire. As we have seen, Kant and Strether (as, respectively, the two expressions of the objective and subjective sides of archi-political diplomacy) are attempting to

The beginnings of diplomacy   89 establish a new fantasy in the face of an impossibility, a crisis in the established worldview. For Kant, this lies in the fact that although republican states have emerged, war on the European continent remains, while for Strether, it is to be found in Sarah’s refusal to perceive the same beautiful desire that he finds in Europe. As already noted, this fantasy is supposed to protect the subject from a primary scandal, accounting therefore for the emergence of the serene image of a mythical beginning. As in Plato’s archi-politics, we are faced with two attempts of turning society into a whole by narrating its peaceful (and proper) origins, forgotten behind the petty conflicts of the present. Nevertheless, as we know, the attempt to eliminate this impossibility, to deny it, results only in its return. But how is this return made possible? It is this question that will be addressed in the following chapter.

Bibliography Grotius, Hugo. 1901. The Rights of War and Peace: Including the Law of Nature and of Nations Translated from the Original Latin of Grotius with Notes and Illustrations from Political and Legal Writers. Translated by A. C. Campbell. New York, NY: M. Walter Dunne. James, Henry. 1903. The Ambassadors. New York, NY: Harper & Brothers Publishers. Kant, Immanuel. 1917. Perpetual Peace: A Philosophical Essay. Translated by Mary Campbell Smith. London: George Allen & Unwin. Lacan, Jacques. 1998. The Seminar, Book XI: The Four Fundamental Concepts of Psychoanalysis, 1964. Edited by Jacques-Alain Miller. Translated by Alan Sheridan. New York, NY: W. W. Norton & Co. Lacan, Jacques. 2006. “Seminar on ‘The Purloined Letter.’ ” In Écrits: The First Complete Edition in English, translated by Bruce Fink, 6–50. New York, NY: ­ W. W. Norton & Co. Rancière, Jacques. 1999. Disagreement: Politics and Philosophy. Translated by Julie Rose. Minneapolis, Minn.: University of Minnesota Press. Wight, Martin. 1992. International Theory: The Three Traditions. New York, NY: Holmes & Meier Publishers. Žižek, Slavoj. 2007. The Indivisible Remainder: On Schelling and Related Matters. London: Verso. Žižek, Slavoj. 2008. For They Know Not What They Do: Enjoyment as a Political Factor. 2nd ed. London: Verso. Žižek, Slavoj. 2009. The Parallax View. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press. Žižek, Slavoj. 2012. Less than Nothing: Hegel and the Shadow of Dialectical Materialism. London: Verso.

5 Diplomacy and the people

Diplomacy and the people We have just seen that the serene fantasy of the archaic Master offers a scene in which all subjects have a direct and unproblematic access to the object of desire, and also that all these different desires naturally converge. Regardless of whether the desire is for peace or for the wondrous, these fantasies are both guided by a myth of a natural state of balance in which everyone harmoniously coexists. But, as noted, such an archi-political idyll is only made possible through denial, so that the subject can forget some more fundamental antagonism. This means that the fantasmatic screen is never complete, since any denial always also includes the return of the repressed content made possible by the very structure of the denial itself. In other words, the impossibility of the One returns to haunt the serene fantasy. How are we to understand this? If we return to Kant’s mythical scene, this idyll is made possible structurally through analogy, by equating politics with diplomacy. What we will see is how this image illustrates the transformation that diplomacy takes part in during the late eighteenth century, meaning that it aids in constructing a fantasy in the guise of symbolic fiction, according to which an antagonism internal to the first term (politics) is denied through the introduction of a second term (diplomacy), thus seemingly leaving the entire field free of contradiction. Equating individuals in a “state of nature” with states in a “state of nature” allows Kant to solve the problem of the struggle between republicanism and despotism. The coining of diplomacy allowed for the first proper separation of politics into a foreign and a domestic branch. While these practices, up until the French Revolution, had both been referred to as politics, the naming seems to imply that both of them now contained what seemed to be separate social links. While subjects under an absolute monarchy served their sovereign, that is, the people’s compliance ensures the continuation of the monarch’s power through their servitude (the monarch constituting the Master Signifier representing and including the subject into knowledge), the presence of another sovereign posed an existential threat to the Master’s very possibility for survival. Politics, in the sense of a generalization of the logic of the family (Rousseau’s use of the term), thus rests on a social link in which the Master (Father, King) is the figure that provides the

Diplomacy and the people   91 subject with a proper place in society (and which the subject then serves, unseen by the Master, in order to provide the Master with riches), while politics in the sense of foreign relations (as in the carrière politique) exists outside the social link, in a kind of Hegelian “trial for death” between two Masters. The only possibility of avoiding entirely, or at the very least delaying this violent struggle to death, was to follow the structure of ritual ignorance that relations between monarchs offered. Through the practice of sending and receiving ambassadors, sovereigns were spared face to face meetings, allowing the forging of treaties to take place behind locked doors, so that the trial moved from the battlefield to a battle of minds. So, in a situation in which we have, on the one hand, internal politics (where the Master acts as the father of the family in relation to his subjects) and, on the other, external politics (where the Master engages in a battle for survival with another Master or lets his subject do “the dirty work”), this name still points to the same social link: the slave’s continuous labor to satisfy his or her Master. The nomination of diplomacy, however, made possible a new structuring of the social relation. The call for a new “diplomacy of man,” voiced around the time of the French Revolution, explicitly called for a diplomatic ­relationship focused on trade and commerce, one of cooperation, rather than antagonism. Here, the main relation is no longer Master posed against Master, with an ambassador toiling outside the Master’s gaze to ensure the Mater’s safety, but a diplomatic knowledge in charge of negotiating, mediating, and thus sustaining a global market of individual subjects of desire. The diplomat of new diplomacy was, in other words, supposed to secure a general peace allowing for trade and exchange between the subjects themselves. This diplomacy of the market, envisioned by the revolutionaries, underpins Kant’s project in Perpetual Peace. Diplomacy should, in this sense, do for the global market what state politics had done for the national market, facilitating the circulation of goods and capital. Hence, the metaphor in Kant’s text is not a separation of internal and external politics, but rather an illustration of how, out of the contingent naming of diplomacy, an equation of the two became possible. What, in the Kantian analogy, could be formulated as “politics is to the natural state of war between individual savages what diplomacy is to the natural state of war between states,” could thus offer a structure in which the subject, no longer caught within the social link of absolute monarchy, once again could find its place. But how is the analogical move from politics to diplomacy accomplished? As noted, Kant begins by making an initial distinction between despotism and republicanism as two ways of making use of power. This distinction, in turn, points to an antagonism internal to politics itself: it is possible to constitute a law, thus ending the state of nature, in either a republican or a despotic manner; both political systems would install peace under law. Kant, however, offers us two distinctions: the first of these distinctions is between the lawless, and thus non-political, savage and the political citizen (subject to a law); and the second is internal to politics, between the kind of law (republican or despotic) to which the citizen is subject. Similar to the exponents of the myth of primitive accumulation, the primary distinction founded in the myth of the original contract, shows the

92   Diplomacy as Archi-Politics traces of its guilt in presupposing what the historical exposé is otherwise ­supposed to prove. Just as the tale of primitive accumulation explains the existence of class division (the famous distinction between the frugal saver and the frivolous spender), the narrative in the myth of the original contract is supposed to explain why savages would give up their libidinal attachment to lawless freedom in favor of the securities of the state. So, the problem here is that this narrative takes for granted what it is supposed to explain: it assumes a savage subject that behaves as if law already existed, as if it already was a citizen, thus failing to explain why the new laws of republicanism came to supplant the state of nature. Thus, the basis on which Kant can claim that republicanism constitutes the foundation for every form of civil constitution, that is, the myth of the naturally republican savage, falls apart, in turn undoing every claim that republicanism is naturally superior to any of the despotic forms of government. Nevertheless, Kant remains oblivious to this problem throughout his text, instead claiming that “the only question for us now is, whether it [republicanism] is also the one constitution which can lead to perpetual peace” (1917, 121). Thus, the analogical equation of politics and diplomacy seems to hold the secret to Kant’s blindness in this text, to his inability to see that there is no natural solution to the antagonism between republicanism and despotism in politics, thereby pointing to the role played by diplomacy as one way of forgetting the political antagonism. Strether’s fantasy of how he persuades Sarah Pocock serves a similar purpose to Kant’s metaphor: the repression of an antagonism, the truth of Strether’s own desire. Besides the incessant attempts to gain more time between Mrs. Newsome’s letters, the primary structure in which this denial takes place is what we might call the diplomatic mode of language defining the way in which communication functions in The Ambassadors: what is said between the lines becomes more important than the gallantries and courtesies explicitly professed. A prime example of this form of conversation can be found in Strether’s questioning of little Bilham as a part of the former’s attempt to understand the nature of Chad’s relationship with Madame de Vionnet. Chad had, initially, acted in what appeared to Strether as a contradictory manner: on the one hand denying any formal ties to Marie while, at the same time, acting as if they were in a relationship. To find out more in order to further his mission, Strether politely asks Bilham if he can explain Chad’s behavior: Well then why isn’t he free? He swears to me he is, but meanwhile does nothing – except of course that he’s so kind to me – to prove it; and couldn’t really act much otherwise if he weren’t. My question to you just now was exactly on this queer impression of his diplomacy. […] “Why isn’t he free if he’s good?” Little Bilham looked him full in the face. “Because it’s a virtuous attachment.” (James 1903, 123–124) As in all diplomatic speech, the interpretation is crucial, and Strether here chooses to interpret little Bilham’s ambiguously defined “virtuous” as meaning

Diplomacy and the people   93 non-sexual. The immense relief Strether seems to find in this interpretation (the fact that it gives him “almost a new lease of life”) illustrates its importance for his fundamental fantasy: he just avoids the shattering possibility that Europe is after all the very place of decadence America accuses it of being, thus tainting not only all those wonderful encounters he has experienced, but also his own desire for European freedom. The only way to save this fantasy is if Chad remains a good but unfree man committed to a non-sexual relationship with Madame de Vionnet, being attached to her simply because of the wonderful things she has done for him. The horrifying, even shattering, potential that lurks under the surface of Strether’s question (hidden by the very form of the question itself), is an example of what Žižek has defined as the primary Jamesian fantasy formation. Apropos the suspension of the Master, Žižek points out how James’ reliance on the unspoken could be overturned by explicitly bringing out the lifeshattering events and the sexual tensions operating “during what appears to be a polite dinner-table conversation” (2008, 197). The rewrites suggested by Žižek, as a way of suspending the Master Signifier, are thus supposed to bring about the unnameable object that sustains jouissance. However, what he neglects to point out is that Strether’s fantasy already undermines itself within the confines of the novel. The fantasy allows for Strether to remain oblivious, able to overlook the many suspicious circumstances plaguing the relationship between Chad and Marie, such as the lies about her allegedly abusive husband or the fact that they both simultaneously leave Paris on supposedly spontaneous holidays. Everyone around him also seems aware of his incapability of seeing the truth of their relationship. As Little Bilham points out to Strether, “you’re not a person to whom it’s easy to tell things you don’t want to know” (James 1903, 139). When Strether and Maria, in the novel’s final chapter, discuss his blindness to the truth, she tells him how his tendency to embellish even virtue itself made her unsure of his intentions, claiming that “[t]here were moments […] when you struck me as grandly cynical; there were others when you struck me as grandly vague”(James 1903, 413). Strether’s answer, that he has had “phases” and “flights,” illustrates how denying the truth of the relationship offers a resolution to the haunting antagonism of every desire: the fact that desire is never just enough, but always too much. In order to accept Bilham’s lie as truth, he needs to blindly trust the man who played an integral part in Chad’s initial “conspiracy” against Strether’s embassy (setting up the scene for Chad’s first appearance in the box at the Théâtre Français), illustrating the central role played by denial in this fantasy. So, if the very form of what is called diplomatic communication makes possible Strether’s denial of his desire, allowing it to disappear in ambiguities and equivocations, how does the metaphor provide Kant with the same structure of forgetting? The answer, as already implied, is that the metaphor finds itself at work in Kant’s incapacity to provide a sufficient answer to the problem of despotism within the realms of the state. What it does, by means of an analogy, is to double the mythical scene; it no longer assumes just the existence of a republican savage, but posits an inherently diplomatic subject who is opposed to the lawless savage. Kant claims that

94   Diplomacy as Archi-Politics [n]ations, as states, may be judged like individuals who, living in the natural state of society – that is to say, uncontrolled by external law – injure one another through their very proximity. Every state, for the sake of its own security, may – and ought to – demand that its neighbour should submit itself to conditions, similar to those of the civil society where the right of every individual is guaranteed. (1917, 128) What the analogy offers is thus a doubled structure consisting of two oppositions: on the one hand that between the savageness of individuals in the state of nature and the proper republican citizen and, on the other, that between the savagery of despotic states and the proper republican state partaking in an international ­federation. The analogy thus offers Kant a way to externalize what initially appeared in the first pair as an internal, secondary, opposition (that between despotism and republicanism). Being a symptom, as Lacan put it, the metaphor allows for a new term to rearrange the existing relationship between the existing terms since what the subject receives in the final term is precisely the object of desire (2006b, 439). If we were to boil down Kant’s entire argument into its most basic metaphorical formulation, Perpetual Peace could be read as arguing for “a politics of diplomacy,” in the double sense of the genitive: that is, the implementation of a political logic of the state in the field of diplomacy (treating states as individuals) but also, at the same time, a diplomatically enacted politics (negotiation between different interests within the state). When formulated in this way, Kant’s analogical reasoning mirrors Lacan’s critique of Perelman’s Aristotelian understanding of metaphor. From the latter’s perspective the analogy would consist of four terms: the natural state of war between individual savages (I) is to politics (II) what the natural state of war between states (III) is to diplomacy (IV). Diplomacy, though, is not only used sporadically in Kant’s text; at the moment of writing the text, the concept had only recently been invented. Thus, it not only marked a certain novelty but was also wrought with ambiguity. Furthermore, following Lacan, the fourth term in a metaphor, even if its meaning is well-established, is always, in the first instance, empty: it is only retroactively that we can ascribe, for example, two meanings to “the politics of diplomacy” or that we know that the “evening of life” highlights one’s entry into the serenity of old age and not, for instance, the frightening shadows creeping closer as the dark void of the night approaches. So, it is only by introducing diplomacy through the structure of metaphor, that it can appear as an empty fourth term, which stitches the field of signifiers together. The fact that this relationship is only hinted at, with vague formulations regarding how individuals and states, in politics and in diplomacy, “may be judged in the same way,” is not a sign of Kant’s failure to formulate a proper metaphor but, according to Lacan, presents the general structure of all metaphors: “[t]here are, as it were, four terms in metaphor, but their heterogeneity involves a dividing line – three against one – and is tantamount to the dividing line between the signifier and the signified” (2006a, 756). The fourth term, that which initially, before interpretation, is

Diplomacy and the people   95 an unknown X, and which inscribes the subject’s desire into the metaphor, ­retroactively determines the three terms preceding it. The metaphoric term, a kind of mythical pre-diplomatic situation absent from Kant’s argument, is what allows for an ideological cut restructuring the relationship between republican politics and the mythical state of savages in eternal warfare. What Kant’s analogical reasoning about diplomacy offers is, in other words, one possible way to overcome the inherent antagonism of politics (between despotism and republicanism) through a restructuring of the mythical tale. If, initially, the development of state and law against lawless barbarism appears in the Kantian universe as a matter of a simple outcome of the nature of humanity (and not, in any sense, an arbitrary or contingent choice), meaning that the law constitutes the essential difference between human and animal, it is not self-evident why a despotic state would not also belong on the side of humanity, institutionalizing a base for freedom, legal equality, and mutual dependence on a common legal system. In other words, both a republican and a despotic state would put an end to the war of all against all, by instituting a law against which all could be held accountable. Kant’s distinction between republicanism, as the separation of legislative and executive power, and despotism, as their confusion, only appears as a secondary problem, one which the distinction between lawless savage and citizen was not designed to solve, the purpose of which is to distinguish brute nature from culture. Thus, this initial external distinction between barbarism and ­civilization reveals an antagonism internal to the state. However, through calling for a diplomacy of trade and commerce, making possible the analogy between the market of the state and the global market, the metaphor is able to intervene through a “substitution of one signifier for another in a chain” (Lacan 2006a, 756), replacing an antagonism internal to politics with a choice between the true and the false approach to both politics and diplomacy. The metaphor should not, because of this, be understood as a displacement of the antagonism, where it is transferred from one place to another, but as an act of condensation and substitution of the entire field of the antagonism, producing new meanings and making it possible to deny the very existence of the conflict. What diplomacy offers, in other words, is a way to bypass the problem of choosing between despotism and republicanism, which, in the initial state, cannot appear but as an arbitrary or contingent choice; the injunction to separate legislative and executive powers takes place within the state, not in the distinction between state and savagery. In re-doubling the initial myth, what Kant achieves is the equation of the human savage with the despotic state. For, just as the savage clings to the lawless state between humans, the despotic state clings to the anarchic and lawless relationship between states. Opposed to this we find republican politics and diplomacy, both following humanity’s natural striving for peace. Kant’s metaphor, in other words, denies the existence of the antagonism, treating republicanism and diplomacy as the inevitable effect of human civilization. However, every denial of some content returns in some other form. It is in the very substitution of signifiers, that is, the substitution of politics for diplomacy, that this returning symptom is created; the antagonism, although still

96   Diplomacy as Archi-Politics present, can now be denied by being externalized, meaning that the newly emerged field is constituted as a totality around the invented signifier. Hence, the metaphor leaves behind a trace of the antagonism which, in turn, returns to haunt it as the part of no-part. One question remains, though: what is the nature of these symptoms that haunt both the Kantian project of perpetual peace and Strether’s fantasy of a generalized “wonderful” or wondrous desire?

The impossibility of perpetual peace As we have seen, a fantasy screen is erected to protect the subject. It establishes a scene of paradisiac serenity, offering a situation in which the subject would have direct access to the desired object. The problem, as Lacanian psychoanalysis makes plain, is that when something is repressed, it returns as a symptom. This is the ground for another feature of fantasy: the obsession with the other’s desire, or fantasy in the guise of spectral apparition, active in the field of objet a. This obsession with something which is “in me more than myself,” the attempt to treat the impossible gap that defines the subject, appears as an attempt to create a fantasy able to account for what returns to haunt the subject, that is to explain why the harmonious situation in the original fantasy of ­peaceful origins is lost. What this aspect of fantasy offers is, in other words, an objectal counterpart to the subject; the former serves as a possible attachment for the temporary fixing of the subject’s identity, either by rejecting or affirming this object. The subject must make sense of the return of the denied gap as symptom, in order to explain why something seems to constantly disturb the actualization of the original harmony. The reasons behind this deterioration are what fantasy, in the guise of spectral apparition, is supposed to provide an account for. The degeneration of the Master’s discourse in modernity is why, directly after the formulation of the analogy between politics and diplomacy, Kant is forced to confront his own haunting question: how is it possible that wars still plague Europe in the age of Enlightenment? To solve this dilemma, Kant offers the reader the already mentioned difference between republicanism and despotism, to distinguish not only savagery and civilization, but also true and false governing. It is, he claims, the representation of the will of the people that “alone makes a republican state possible, and without which it is despotic and violent, be the constitution what it may” (Kant 1917, 127–128 [transl. mod.]). In an argument which appears to be taken directly from the then popular critique of old diplomacy, Kant proceeds to use this distinction, in order to explain the recurring problems of war in Europe, claiming that when the subject is not a citizen holding a vote, (i.e., in a constitution which is not republican), the plunging into war is the least serious thing in the world. For the ruler is not a citizen, but the owner of the state, and does not lose a whit by the war, while he goes on enjoying the delights of his table or sport, or of his pleasure palaces and gala days. He can therefore decide on war for the most trifling reasons, as if it were a kind of pleasure party. Any justification

Diplomacy and the people   97 of it that is necessary for the sake of decency he can leave without concern to the diplomatic corps who are always only too ready with their services. (Kant 1917, 123) The irritating other, the one who enjoys too much, is here embodied in the despotic sovereign, annoying Kant and thus appearing as the other who makes the whole task of building a perpetual peace impossible. It is, in other words, owing to the despot that Europe is yet to achieve perpetual peace. At this point the two aspects of fantasy come together, showing how fantasy as symbolic fiction and as spectral apparition are really two aspects of the same whole. It is in this denial that the externalization of the internal antagonism of politics is achieved. The despotic ruler no longer touches on the inherent problem of politics (as the question of the source of the law suggests). The despot is simply equated with the lawless savage, both of whom are figures inimical to the founding of a system guaranteeing the perpetual peace of all human beings and between all states. The symptom, this manifestation of an unnameable and repressed antagonism plaguing the subject, is also a central topic throughout James’ The Ambassadors, taking on the guise of the opposition between Europe and the United States. In the standard liberal reading of The Ambassadors, the awakening of the perhaps somewhat naïve Strether to the realities of the social order, represented by his final choice to return to Woollett, is supposed to define him as a true modern hero. An illustrative example of this kind of reading, which also critiques the more classical interpretation that Strether’s return signifies a conservative resignation in the face of the unbridled freedom of Europe, can be found in Robert Pippin’s assessment surrounding “the strange logic” of Strether’s double consciousness. For Pippin, freedom is not the free “exercise of will,” “the absence of constraints, or the satisfaction of interests and desires” (2000, 175). Rather, Strether’s liberation thus lies in the greater acknowledgement gained about his predicament by the end of the narrative arc, meaning that he understands how every life is dependent on the relationships through which it is formed. Strether is, in other words, returning to the United States because he has become aware that no man is a lone ship at sea, but that he (and all of us) rather always find ourselves already thrown into a complex moral network, forcing all of us to mediate others and, in turn, be mediated by those others. Pippin, following up on his earlier claim that Strether is James’ “best hero by far” (2000, 150), turns his choice to return to Woollett into an illustration of a condition inherent to modern subjectivity as such; going back is the only possible action in a world that no longer offers a stable position or “a role within a fixed social order” (Pippin 2000, 172) because what Strether receives in Woollett is, at least, “meaning.” He receives the semblance of a social order instead of the now completely empty categories of happiness and freedom offered by Europe. Attempting to see what he, as Strether himself puts it, “can make of it,” that is, to work out a little piece of meaning, and thus of freedom, in confrontation with the unavoidable unfreedom of being dependent on others, appears to Pippin as preferable to the complete

98   Diplomacy as Archi-Politics illusion of total freedom, which choosing to stay with Ms. Gostrey would imply. In other words, Strether’s heroism lies in choosing the lesser of two evils. Thus, this today popular interpretation highlights how Strether’s consciousness develops in two steps. Initially, when faced with the free, bohemian life of Paris, he realizes the limitations of American instrumentalism and materialism. However, when forced to also confront the truth regarding the relationship between Chad and Marie, he furthermore realizes that similar mechanisms of social control operate in what appears to be the free life of Europeans. The ­“liberation” entailed here thus consists in realizing that freedom, morality, social life in its entirety, is dependent upon a certain degree of alienation; the subject is in need of mediation through the other in order to become a subject, to experience the “illusion of freedom” that Strether holds so dear. This is also why in the end Strether chooses the life in Woollett, since it would never let him sink too deep into the illusion, always toiling hard for every little piece of freedom gained. Following this, some scholars even hail James as a writer able to express in ­literature what Freud, at roughly the same time, was developing in psychoanalysis, that is, the problem of the unconscious. An illustrative example of this perspective can be found when Strether realizes that the relationship of Chad and Marie is not as virtuous as it once appeared. Reflecting on this event, he tells Ms. Gostrey how his acceptance of little Bilham’s lie regarding the couple’s relationship had returned to haunt him, forcing him to accept that he had known the truth all along (James 1903, 413). One could argue that it is in this very distinction between, on the one hand, what Strether knows that he knows and, on the other, that which he does not know that he knows, that the psychoanalytic unconscious appears. For Pippin, this opposition between cynical knowing and naïve ignorance can thus be located in the fact that Strether’s “life is not his own, but wholly ambassadorial” (2000, 152). The distinction here is one between independence (having one’s own life) and being controlled by another, external, power. In a very Kantian way, Strether should here be read as, on the one hand, being allowed to live a public life that condemns him to remain a naïve believer in absolute freedom, hoping that everyone, also the Pococks, will see greatness in Europe, while he, in his private life, continues to think like a cynical observer, acknowledging that freedom is impossible and thus choosing ambassadorial servitude to the sovereign. We have here returned to the impossible distinction between the diplomat as a signifier and his presence as an individual, albeit turned on its head. What Pippin’s Strether seems to believe is that every subjectivity is in need of a certain degree of ambassadoriality, that is, of being mediated through others, thus injecting it with an unavoidable degree of alienation. As far as a certain liberal reading is concerned, the truth of The Ambassadors should be understood in terms of this split between interiority and externality and their inescapable mediation: only by returning to Woollett, by resisting the temptation to renounce his diplomatic mission, can Strether remain a modern subject, cynically aware of the fact that his “illusion of freedom” requires a certain amount of ambassadorial dependence on others.

Diplomacy and the people   99 Kant’s metaphor accomplishes a similar distinction between the internal and the external as Strether’s return to the United States supposedly illustrates. However, in the case of Kant, rather than capturing a truth, the distinction immediately shows the repressed original antagonism, the fact that this opposition as such acts as protection from something that haunts politics, offering one possible road to salvation through the introduction of the fantasy of diplomacy. But is it the negativity of the founding gesture that the fantasy is supposed to shield us from? Are we here facing the denied antagonism? The answer to these questions can be found in the symptoms of the metaphor from Perpetual Peace that return to haunt Kant in his later work. Žižek, in a discussion on narrating the origin, locates the symptom of the theory of the social contract in a text which he wrote only two years after the publication of Perpetual Peace and in which he also returns to the question of laws between nations. Žižek here refers to the introduction of the remark wherein Kant claims that [t]he origin of supreme power, for all practical purposes, is not discoverable by the people who are subject to it. In other words, the subject ought not to indulge in speculations about its origin with a view to acting upon them, as if its right to be obeyed were open to doubt (ius controversum). (1991, 143) In this later text Kant explicitly forbids the narration of origins he had performed two years earlier in Perpetual Peace, then written with what, in light of this prohibition, cannot appear as anything but the “culpable” intention to change the present constitution and thus end all wars (since his utopia, in order to be realized, demanded the eradication of every existing despotic law). His aim in Perpetual Peace – to replace what he perceived as the existing false peace treaties, only putting an end to one war rather than completely terminating wars in general – appears as the kind of activity he now explicitly forbids. However, what this prohibition truly signals is, as Žižek points out, the fact that something returns in Kant’s remark. Our claim here is that this something originates in the name of diplomacy and thus from Kant’s text on Perpetual Peace, and the prohibition constitutes the covering up of a haunting and repressed truth regarding what happens in the passage from natural savagery to civilized republicanism, the event of which we are now forbidden to investigate. It is only through this myth of transition – and the equation of politics and diplomacy in Perpetual Peace – that Kant can connect the republican order with the establishment of an everlasting peace. However, the return of the symptom signals, according to Žižek, that the passage between these two is not as simple as Kant assumes: what is needed to pass from nature to culture (or from despotism to republicanism) is the intervention of a vanishing mediator, a state of “denaturalized nature,” neither simply a lawless despotic nature nor as yet a civilized republicanism. It is this intermediate function that is repressed through Kant’s myth. Hence, what appears in Kant’s remark as a symptom, illustrated by his attempt to hide its threatening appearance by prohibiting everyone from considering this

100   Diplomacy as Archi-Politics past, points to the denial of the vanishing mediator: this horrifying denaturalized nature found in the disturbing act of the first subject in-between, something like a civilized republican-diplomatic savage. The return of the symptom signals that this mediator is repressed, pointing to the fact that this original violence, underpinning the peaceful state, cannot be escaped. In Perpetual Peace, the revolutionary appears to Kant as the complete opposite of his imagined republican-diplomatic savage, even the entire revolution is against the law (!) – not just against actually existing laws, but against lawfulness as such, against the very idea of public law, against the irresistibility of the moral law, and ultimately against the sacral authority of the Law itself in its unbreachable transcendence. (Comay 2011, 37) The reason for this is that since the implicit idea of the revolutionary law cannot be announced publicly without undermining its own authority, a revolution cannot, according to Kant, constitute a new authority. What we should point out here is how this distinction in Kant is in reality false; no law can exist without the extra-legal act of inauguration and the revolutionary here constitutes the vanishing mediator without which there can be no fully republican-diplomatic citizen. Thus, what the prohibition in The Metaphysics of Morals is supposed to defend us from is the fact that, in order for the republic to institute itself, this imagined republican-diplomatic savage had to execute King Louis XVI, and that it was only through this act that the new republican constitution became ­possible. The fundamental problem for Kant and his republican politics for perpetual peace is, in other words, the fact that in order to constitute itself as a form of government based on the will of the people, it had to remove the one deviant will: that of the monarch. In other words, it had to be initially despotic to be able to become republican. As Žižek continues, it is insufficient for the revolutionaries to simply commit regicide, since such an act, although the most horrifying possible in the eyes of absolute monarchy, still would have remained within the field of the established law. Only the execution of the king could have embodied the necessary cut, instigating a new legal system in which the subjects of the state can become equal citizens. Hence, what in the Perpetual Peace only appeared as the ultimate crime (rebelling against the authority and punishing the sovereign for his sins), must necessarily be paired with the doubling of the archaic myth, in order for Kant to be able to forget that, in actual fact, the proclamation of the king’s death sentence is precisely the point at which the lawless savage becomes a civilized republican-diplomatic savage, that is to say the point in between the figures of the law-abiding citizen and the barbarian. Kant thus, in other words, represents an attempt to counteract the violence of the revolution, “such that the French republican experiment can be sanitized of its founding violence, even if only in the eyes of its beholders” (Comay 2011, 32). It is therefore the sign of diplomacy that offers one way of “forgetting” or denying the founding violence by way of the introduction of an empty signifier

Diplomacy and the people   101 that allows Kant to unconsciously acknowledge the violent origins of the law (through prohibition) while still denying its historical expression (in his fierce attack on the revolutionaries), branding it as simply a case of unlawful violence, as the threat against the fantasy of a perpetual peace. In a sense it is, therefore, the despotic monarch critiqued by Kant that, in Perpetual Peace, constitutes the prerequisite for his republican constitution and the league of nations, allowing the people to express their will by sentencing him to death. In other words, the fantasy is only there to hide the fact that the people, in order to become a people – and therefore to be the embodiment of a will – were forced to violently remove the failing Master in order to reorganize the entire field of signifiers. One name that thus separates Kant from the tradition of natural law is therefore diplomacy. In a diplomatic world structured in the form of the market, sovereigns no longer posed the ultimate existential threat against each other, since it is the logic of the market, and not the will of the sovereign, that functions as the ultimate power. Thus, only by beheading the king could the possibility of a Kantian perpetual peace be born. Even though the revolutionary mob as a vanishing mediator is repressed in Kant’s text, this does not mean that he completely avoids dealing with the rabble. Thus, although their truth is avoided, the figure of the revolutionary still acts as Kant’s desired object. As such, the second appendix of the Perpetual Peace includes a furious attack on these revolutionaries, denying that they have anything to do with proper politics. Kant begins the section on internal politics by asking a question that “many people consider difficult to answer,” namely: should rebellion be considered a rightful way for a people to overthrow the reign of a “so-called tyrant”? In other words, can a republican order can be inaugurated in and through a rebellion? Kant’s answer is unambiguous: [i]t is in the highest degree wrong of the subjects to prosecute their rights in this way [through rebellion]; and they would be just as little justified in complaining, if they happened to be defeated in their attempt and had to endure the severest punishment in consequence. (1917, 186) Kant continues by expanding on this harsh verdict, pointing out that according to his principle of the necessary publicity of every law, a people which plots rebellion must first ask if they dare make the underlying maxim (that power lies in rebellion) public. The issue is, in the eyes of Kant, that accepting the idea of rebellion as a legitimate way of overthrowing the authority of the state, effectively means that the new state, the product of the revolution, also lacks true authority, since it acknowledges revolution as a legal way to overthrow authority. True power lies in the hands of those with the means to rebel. This is why, Kant continues, a proper sovereign is right to proclaim that every rebellion will be severely punished, since it is his or her duty as supreme authority to penalize those who threaten this power. The problem of a rebellion, in other words, is that it cannot be transformed into universal law, since it would mean that the

102   Diplomacy as Archi-Politics ultimate site of power is the rebellion and not the authority of the law. Thus, he claims, the transition from one state to another (from nature to law, or from one law to another) must take other forms. But Kant’s furious attack on the revolutionaries only reveals how they have turned into the symptom of his failure, turning his anger into a sign of the impossibility of transforming the execution into a regicide. The rage of Kant shows that, with the delivery of the king’s death sentence by the revolutionary guard, he meets the impossibility of retaining the distinction between, on the one hand, external, despotic, savagery and, on the other, internal, republican, citizenry. This is also why it is not enough for him to try to prove that they are wrong, instead feeling the need to also express his hopes that they will be severely punished for their mistakes. The negativity of the inaugurating act – i.e., the removal of the king’s head to start a new order – is here the truth of Kant’s diplomacy. And it is this very same moment of ­negativity that is often missed in the standard reading of Strether. As noted, in a popular interpretation of Strether’s return, the unconscious appears to be understood as “an immediate substantial given,” as simply the external world that forgoes the subject. This split between external ambassadorial life (ruled by the other) and one’s inner life (wrongly experienced as pure freedom) thus signifies the opposition between the external Master and the internal ego, between the self and the substantial other. The moral of the story is, in other words, that if true, unbridled, freedom is impossible, one should not choose amoral nihilism; to be precise, giving in to such an impulse would end up abandoning freedom altogether. Instead one should choose the external, ambassadorial, life, a life in and through the other, not getting anything for oneself (since one must serve the other’s desire), in the hope of finding a small space for authentic freedom, acknowledging rather than trying to avoid what we might call the unconscious. In contrast to this, Žižek has, in passing, claimed that Henry James should not be considered among those writers who foresaw the discoveries of psychoanalysis. At first glance, this claim appears to wilfully misread James, not only considering the fact that The Ambassadors is littered with what one might call psychoanalytic jargon (references to the unconscious, symptoms, desires etc. abound in the novel), but also on point of the fact of ­Strether’s supposed acknowledgement of this unavoidably circumscribed nature of freedom and morality. But what must not be overlooked here, in order to understand Žižek’s dismissal of James, is the “negativity as the founding gesture of subjectivity” (Žižek 2016, 128), illustrating the illusion of the distinction between outside (unconscious) and inside (conscious): the negation of the subject taking place not when it finds a little piece of itself out there (in the Other), but rather being immanent in the gap between the void and its appearance. The problem of what we might call the ethics of the ambassador is thus in many ways similar to the issues surrounding Kant’s project for a perpetual peace: it denies an internal antagonism in order to reformulate it as an external opposition. The main issue when reading Strether’s return to America as a sort of bitter-sweet victory for a limited freedom is that it misses the negative gesture. It takes as an external opposition, which separates the in itself of the

Diplomacy and the people   103 subject from its place in the field of signifiers, what in reality is an internal opposition between the subject as immanently split between the position it is assigned by an inexistent Master and the void that this position is set to fill. So, if the split is internal, we should, just as in Kant, search for the truth in the objective counterpart of the subject, of the desired object that sustains this subjective position. By closing in on both sides of the split, it is possible to see how both objective and subjective positions can only remain through the existence of the unnameable object, the little thing that is produced in Woollett’s factory. Without this little object, and the need for Chad to come home and run its production lines, there would, obviously, not have been any need for Strether to leave for a diplomatic mission to Europe in the first place. He is thus not so much representing Mrs. Newsome as he is the interest of the continued circulation of this secret object. But even in his official duty (in the Kantian sense), Strether derives his subjective features from this little thing. He defines himself in the following way: “Woollett has a Review – which Mrs. Newsome, for the most part, magnificently pays for and which I, not at all magnificently, edit. My  name’s on the cover” (James 1903, 45). It is, in other words, through the object’s circulation, providing Mrs. Newsome with money, that Strether has acquired a position in this little society. Thus, since the big Other, at this point, is aware that Strether is corrupted, that his mission has failed and that he renounced his moral bonds to the American way, his return, rather than a glorious victory for freedom, cannot but appear as a Freudian “moral masochism,” an act of desperately clinging on to a fantasy derived from an unconscious sense of guilt. Strether’s complete renunciation of pleasure points to how his enjoyment is tied to this position of victimhood, that he “can’t do anything else” but to return home, and that he has been “just as bad” as everyone else. The problem here is that his return signals the attempt to keep up the fantasy of the existence of a non-castrated Master in the guise of Mrs. Newsome. However, this is no longer a direct belief, since he now “see[s] her” in a new light. Instead, it signals a denied form of belief, also showing itself unconsciously in Strether’s recurrent use of a set of what amounts to ghostly metaphors in relation to Mrs. Newsome, indicating that he knows that she is dead (her position as uncastrated Master is impossible), even though he refuses to completely accept this. Only by going home, can he save himself from a life-time of haunting ghosts and the feeling of melancholia that accompanies these phantasms. Only then, he seems to believe, can he redeem her. In the end, this leaves diplomacy as an impossible task for both Strether and Kant. It can never be fully achieved; diplomacy will always corrupt both itself and the envoy that serves it. It is thus, as Strether sits down to speak with Maria Gostrey for the final time, that he can now claim that he sees Mrs. Newsome. All that remains is the failed ethical act, instead of renouncing a tainted possibility of wealth for love, Strether, a true ambassador, chooses to take upon himself the weight of his Master’s symbolic death, the fact that Mrs. Newsome cannot constitute a full Master. That is why he has to return to Wollet “to be right.” By returning, he will take it upon himself to represent what the Master lacks. “That,

104   Diplomacy as Archi-Politics you see, is my only logic. Not, out of this whole affair, to have got anything for myself.” Instead of finally confronting the inconsistencies of the Master, ­Strether’s return signals the desperate attempt to uphold the Master’s order despite the Master’s death, taking on the burden of the failure of representation. This is why he “can’t do anything else” but return, in an attempt to put together the pieces of a failed fantasy. Also for Kant, the established fantasy disintegrates in front of him. Faced with the impossibilities of a perpetual peace, his final solution is to surrender to this failure by formulating the diplomatic task not as establishing the final end to all wars, but as an infinite process of gradual approximation. The diplomatic task thus takes on the form of what Hegel called spurious infinity, that which “never gets beyond what merely ought to be the case, so that in fact it gets stuck in the finite” (2015, §140). This theme of the failure of diplomacy is, however, only the beginning, opening up for its impending death.

Conclusion As both Kant’s Perpetual Peace and James’ Strether illustrate, when the signifier diplomacy is coined it is neither simply the baptizing of a practice which, at that moment, had at least a three-century long history, nor is the meaning of the term intrinsically linked to the explicit aims of the Revolutionary moment. Rather, the invention of diplomacy seems to coincide with a founding gesture, violently replacing an old law with a new one. Confronted with these violent origins, diplomacy appears to offer a soothing effect through a myth of an original, natural, and non-violent way for human beings to relate to one another, either through the Kantian myth of the diplomatic savage or through Strether’s myth about an appropriate desire for the wondrous. As such, the reproach to both the statist and the ontological approach to the history of diplomacy should consist in pointing out that each side uncovers an important aspect of the nature of diplomacy, but, at the same time, that each misunderstands its meaning. Thus, it is true that diplomacy is linked to modernity and the nation-state, but not as an answer to the increased need of bureaucratization in the modern state and the fragmentation of Europe. Instead, diplomacy marks a later development, namely the attempt to externalize that which negates the state, i.e., what threatens to break down the assumed homogeneity of its structure. Here we also find the problem of those who assume that diplomacy expresses a certain ontological necessity in humanity (whether this be our sameness or our fundamental division): the ontological need for diplomacy has specific historical roots in ­modernity. In other words, and as is doubtless the fact with every ideological formation, the name of diplomacy arises out of the ontological impossibility of the One. However, in order to avoid the historicist claim that each attempt to deal with this impossibility in an ideological form is disconnected from every other, linked only by an unknowable impossibility, our Žižekian approach allows us to see how certain configurations of this impossibility return based on the nature of a primordial repression. What we have seen is, in other words, that

Diplomacy and the people   105 archi-political diplomacy is defined by a concrete universal, the particularity of which acts as the oppositional determination, the “gap, antagonism or obstacle which holds this field together” (Žižek 2016, 18). Diplomacy is not ontological in itself, but it negates a specific historical form of the ontological impossibility. So, if diplomacy neither represents the nomination of an already old practice, nor designates an invention intimately connected to the French revolutionaries, to what law does this cut refer? We have seen that, if we are to understand both the Kantian perpetual peace and Strether’s version of modern subjectivity, the image of the market has often been highlighted as having structural importance. For it is the presence of the market that illustrates how both assume the existence of a structure of equal actors (states or individuals) selling and buying objects (or rather negotiating the exchange of them) between themselves. What, however, becomes evident when approaching this question through the lens of the functioning of the concept of diplomacy, is something which goes beyond the idea that the market structures the field of relations between states. Especially significant here is diplomacy’s role as a new Master Signifier, illustrating how diplomacy is not simply metonymically structured on the basis of the already existing market of the state, but allows for the denial of a structural antagonism inherent to the nation-state as market. The myth of the serene diplomatic origin, of a world in which equal states and individuals can partake in free exchange, is a way of forgetting the impossibility of this ideal, since the new law of the market, which is instituted by the revolution is always – as is the case with every founding gesture – at least minimally despotic. Through a process of doubling, diplomacy thus stands for a denial, an attempt to retain the dream of a full Master in complete control of the chain of signifiers. This also allows us to formulate a critique against the standard depiction, especially pertinent in Political Science, of Kant as either a statist or a universalist. What appears as an impossible standpoint – i.e., Kant as seemingly both declaring the republican state as the highest point of civilizational progress and the fullest expression of human rationalism, while at the same time undermining this community by forcing it to enter into a federation of states – is simply the effect of this denial. Kant’s idea that the state can constitute the expression of the will of its people forces him, when confronted with its impossibility, to externalize this problem: the analogy between the inauguration of the law and the creation of a federation allows for Kant to deny the fact that any law, at its inauguration, is minimally despotic, meaning that the republican state as the expression of the One will of the people is impossible. Thus, Kant’s text is not to be read as the choice between citizenship and globalism; rather, this antinomy is an integral part of the impossibility of Kant’s own thought. It is also as the incarnation of this impossibility that Kant furiously attacks the revolutionaries, for it is precisely the figure of the revolutionary that serves as a vanishing mediator, taking us from savage lawlessness to the founding of a new order. What Kant is denying from his view on the other side of the revolution is, in other words, the role of revolutionaries as the rabble, this “concrete nothing” which negates the existing order. In his eyes this figure is impossible, since all that can exist are law-abiding citizens and violent barbarians.

106   Diplomacy as Archi-Politics The same problem also shows itself in the two standard readings of James’ The Ambassadors, which either see Strether’s return to the United States as conservative resignation faced with unbridled European liberty or the victory of a properly modern understanding of subjectivity against the naïve dreams of limitless freedom. The second, today more popular, interpretation of this choice is the one confronting a subject stuck in modernity wherein neither God, nor any other figure of authority, is able to ensure the stability of a moral universe. In this situation, such a choice must, in psychoanalytical terms, take on the form of an act able to “disclose the big Other’s non-existence” through which the moral dilemma inherent to the existing system can be completely dismissed. However, Strether’s choice can never even comes close to approaching such an act, rather remaining wholly inside the realm of the diplomatic Master: a choice to stay in Europe would simply confirm that he, through his failure to fulfil his mission, had been released from his Master’s bond, while, as Strether actually does, choosing to return signals his “moral masochism.” At no point does Strether (or Kant for that matter) seem capable of escaping their respective choice (or even of seeing that the choice presented is a false one). Indeed, Kant cannot even perceive the difference between despotic savagery and republican perpetual peace as a choice, believing the latter is a natural effect of the human constitution rather than a choice touching on the order of ethics or morality, while Strether attempts to postpone the choice by buying time in between the Master’s letters. Hence, what is illustrated in and through the name of diplomacy and its archipolitical fantasy of the origin, is how the contingent act of naming retroactively inscribes diplomacy with a history, and it is the gaps in this myth of the original, unified, society, that return to haunt Kant and Strether. This is also what the antidescriptivist motif in writing the history of diplomacy misses: that a certain object is missing, and that this lost thing is only retroactively inscribed. The idea of new diplomacy allowed for revolutionaries like Kant to imagine the original unity of a republican society, thus avoiding the confrontation with the immanent impossibility of the state. Thus, we can now see how the impossibility of the idea of the modern republican state as a whole returns to haunt both Kant and Strether in the form of symptoms. These are the things which diplomacy serves by offering other empirical objects in its stead, everything from the desire of the Master and the wondrous to the despotic sovereign and the unlawful revolutionaries. Just as with Strether’s denial regarding the truth of Chad’s relationship, the unnameable object thus appears as the counterpart to Kant’s unlawful revolutionaries: their structural position as symptoms reveals the void of the current law, the impossibility of the complete implementation of a diplomacy of the market. The Lacanian letter can thus be said to return first when Strether meets Chad and Madame de Vionnet in the countryside, revealing the unavoidability of the choice and the fruitlessness of his attempts to avoid it. It is furthermore through this object that we may explain why diplomacy, in its first formation after the French Revolution seems to take on an archi-political structure, offering a choice between the harmonious, mythical, origin and its decadent, deprived opposite. It does this to

Diplomacy and the people   107 allow for the denial of the inaugurating antagonism of the law, the fact that the politics of enacting the will of the people, or of bringing together every desire in one, always is minimally despotic, since it must remove the will that upholds the old law as that which pre-serves another logic. In contrast to a disavowal, according to which this impossibility would be accepted but isolated from its effects, denial, in both Kant’s denial of the revolutionaries and Strether’s unwillingness to speak about both the produced object and the truth of the relationship, constitutes the attempt to avoid the symptom by claiming that it is not the thing. Instead, both remain “frantically active,” showing how the neurotic structure of archi-political diplomacy always aims at retaining the law through avoiding its symptoms. The signifier of diplomacy, in other words, stands for the anti-­ democratic democracy of the revolution. Through the introduction of this name, the expression of a will of the people is rendered impossible. Hence, any actually existing expression claiming to take on this function can never become “it,” since it owes such a position to the excessive violence that must be avoided at any cost. Already here we can thus see the two sides of the diplomatic signifier that will come to haunt it for the coming two centuries: on the one hand, the fact that diplomacy will stand for the attempt to stop the rotting of authority by replacing it with a new one (the authority of diplomacy) and, on the other, the very impossibility of the name of diplomacy, forcing its supporters to either, like Kant and Strether, abandon its high aims or leave it to die from its mortal wounds. As such, the figures of Kant and Strether already betray this fantasy of original unity, and thus of archi-political diplomacy specifically. These two tragic characters serve as a forewarning about the things to come.

Bibliography Comay, Rebecca. 2011. Mourning Sickness: Hegel and the French Revolution. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press. Hegel, Georg Wilhelm Friedrich. 2015. Encyclopedia of the Philosophical Sciences in Basic Outline, Part 1: Science of Logic. Translated by Klaus Brinkmann and Daniel O. Dahlstrom. Cambridge, Mass.: Cambridge University Press. James, Henry. 1903. The Ambassadors. New York, NY: Harper & Brothers Publishers. Kant, Immanuel. 1917. Perpetual Peace: A Philosophical Essay. Translated by Mary Campbell Smith. London: George Allen & Unwin. Kant, Immanuel. 1991. “The Metaphysics of Morals.” In Kant: Political Writings, translated by Hans Siegbert Reiss, 2nd ed., 131–175. Cambridge, Mass.: Cambridge University Press. Lacan, Jacques. 2006a. “Metaphor of the Subject.” In Écrits: The First Complete Edition in English, translated by Bruce Fink, 755–758. New York, NY: W. W. Norton & Co. Lacan, Jacques. 2006b. “The Instance of the Letter in the Unconscious; or Reason Since Freud.” In Écrits: The First Complete Edition in English, translated by Bruce Fink, 412–444. New York, NY: W. W. Norton & Co. Pippin, Robert B. 2000. Henry James and Modern Moral Life. Cambridge, Mass.: ­Cambridge University Press. Žižek, Slavoj. 2008. The Plague of Fantasies. London: Verso. Žižek, Slavoj. 2016. Disparities. London: Bloomsbury Academic.

Part III

Diplomacy as Ultra-Politics

6 Diplomacy is dead – long live diplomacy!

Diplomacy is dead – long live diplomacy! If by the end of the eighteenth century the name diplomacy constituted the foundation for a post-revolutionary archi-politics – thus turning diplomacy into a figure for an anti-democratic democracy by denying the problem of the rabble – then this tale surrounding the origins of proper diplomacy seemed, from its very inception, to be haunted by its own mortality. As we saw, what brought about the invention of diplomacy was not, as Kant and others claimed, the despotic absolute Monarch, the ruthless Father or Master – who in the guise of an Oedipal father was already dead – but those responsible for killing him: the ­revolutionaries through whom the rabble spoke. The victim of archi-political diplomacy was, in other words, the democratic potential of revolutionary ecstasies. But, as psychoanalytic theory tells us, whatever is repressed always returns to haunt through the formations of the unconscious (showing itself in dreams, jokes, symptoms, slips of tongue, etc.). In the century that passed between the publication of Kant’s and James’ texts, diplomacy’s symptoms proliferated, and one in particular came to attach itself to its practice: the claim that diplomacy was facing its impending death. As already mentioned, one of the first confirmed uses of the concept of diplomacy in English, found in Edmund Burke’s letters on the regicide peace, speaks about the destruction of so called double diplomacy enacted by Louis XVI (1999, 174, n.1). A little over half a century later, FrançoisVictor Hugo – in a short piece in the newspaper Le Rappel, founded on the initiative of his father – went a lot further, announcing the end of diplomacy as such. He claimed that it was a mistake to believe that diplomacy could survive the end of the monarchy since “the only equal to its disloyalty is its impotence” (Hugo 1871, 1). Diplomacy, according to Hugo, merely treated important words such as justice, moral, and right as empty concepts subjugated to what it believed to be the only really existing force of relations between states: power. Hugo’s article marks a point in time when announcing the impending demise of diplomacy had become a commonplace in politics as well as in art and academia. This trope could be found in everything from Henry Murger’s novel Dona Sirène (1874, 205), to more academically oriented works, such as journalist and politician Grégory Ganesco’s Diplomatie et nationalité (1856, 130). Most

112   Diplomacy as Ultra-Politics famous of all the death sentences of the nineteenth century was, however, uttered by Lord Palmerston, the British Prime Minster, who, after receiving his first telegram, proclaimed that the event would mark the end of diplomacy. Diplomacy’s death sentence, declared almost in the same breath as the concept’s birth, has continued to haunt the writing on diplomacy until this day. But what does this verdict, as a symptom, tell us about the continued work of the signifier diplomacy? As we have seen, a symptom is a formation of the unconscious which owes its existence to the subject’s ignorance about its fundamental truth. Thus, what is sought after here is, on the one hand, how the truth of diplomacy seems to return in the guise of a threat surrounding its own annihilation. However, on the other hand, we must take into account how the proclamation of the death of diplomacy, perhaps reaching its highpoint around the time of the two World Wars, did not mean that the topic was abandoned. Rather, diplomacy was revitalized under the heading of the newly instituted discipline of International Relations. The fact that the theme of its death and resurrection remained central to the study of diplomacy throughout the twentieth century, tells us that we are here closing in on a certain jouissance connected to the signifier. So, in order to understand the symptom and the jouissance that come together under the theme of death, we will in this part of our study be focusing on the time that saw three major diplomatic crises, the First and the Second World Wars as well as the subsequent Cold War. In academia, this period also brings both the inauguration and the first major theoretical crisis of International Relation, the so called First Great Debate between Idealists and Realists. Finally, a young André P. Brink published his take on the ambassador, creating a small scandal in the South African Department of Foreign Affairs. If the first part focused more on the topic of the name, this second part will treat the topic of death and resurrection under the theme of diplomacy in order to understand why this question seems to return so often in the field. The fact that the study of diplomacy, during the middle of the last century, experienced a great crisis, in terms of both theory and legitimacy, shows that diplomacy was going through a transformation, leaving behind an archi-political form that from the outset already seemed haunted by its own impossibility. In its stead, the post-war period offers an ultra-political diplomacy constituting, as Žižek defines it in his expansion of Rancière’s original triptych, “the direct militarization of politics” (2008b, 225), a new form of forgetting of the fundamental antagonism linked to the diplomatic signifier. In the contemporary field of Diplomacy Studies, the scholars of early IR-theory, mostly from the traditions of Classical Realism and the so-called English School, are understood as the inaugurators of a properly scientific study of diplomacy, opposed to what is often described as the anecdotal focus of diplomatic handbooks and the legal obsession of the Idealists. This part will thus focus on some of the central writers of both Classical Realism and the English School, including for instance Hans J. Morgenthau, Raymond Aron, Martin Wight, and Adam Watson. Instead of just focusing on one text (as was the case in the first part), the objective side of the signifier of diplomacy will here be examined through a vast number of works, all belonging

Diplomacy is dead – long live diplomacy!   113 to the field of International Relations. There are several reasons for this. One is the fact that this constitutes the first historical point when it became possible to speak of the study of diplomacy in terms of a field, meaning that the texts, as we will see, share certain outlooks, discussions, problems, and perspectives all relating to diplomacy. Another important aspect is the fact that, when looking at their works during a period from the late 1930s to the early 1980s, these traditions all relate to the recurring theme of death in diplomacy: with every new theoretical perspective, diplomacy either dies or is born anew. The objective side of ultrapolitical diplomacy will be paired with its counterpart, the other side of the Möbius band, that is, the impossible representative subject () found in André Brink’s early novel The Ambassador, taking us to the South African embassy in Paris during the 1960s. Here also, we leave the singular since the focus will be on the two male protagonists of the novel: the young Third Secretary Stephen Keyter and his superior, the prominent Ambassador Van Heerden. In elucidating the differences between Keyter and Van Heerden we can also locate a second reason why we will here focus on a multiplicity rather than the singular: what both Keyter and Van Heerden and the different incarnations of diplomacy within IR-theory illustrate is a certain development with regards to the signifier of diplomacy. In other words, by focusing on several instantiations, we will hopefully capture a certain transformation, starting with the impossibilities and the breakdown hinted at already by Kant and James’ Strether. Even if the material to be discussed in this second part of our investigation harbors greater diversity, the form through which these texts will be presented follows the one set out in the foregoing part: both Brink’s characters and the tradition of post-war IR-theory will be treated as two sides (the subjective and objective) of the ideology that attempts to avoid or forget the antagonism that resides at the heart of diplomacy. As we have already seen, not only does archipolitical diplomacy include an impossibility, but its own representatives became increasingly aware of these immanent limits. This is also why we will here, during this second part of our inquiry, try to capture the shift from archi-politics (the dream of a full Master) to ultra-politics (the acceptance but isolation of the Master’s failure). In tracing this shift, we will accordingly move from denial (i.e., resisting antagonism) to disavowal (i.e., openly accepting the antagonism but isolating and repressing its effects). In this sense, neurotic denial and perverse disavowal are united in their forgetting and thus share a similar structure in that their respective modes of repression produce symptoms. However, instead of direct denial, disavowal offers what Mannoni in his famous formula captured as Je sais bien, mais quand même (Mannoni 1985), often evoked by Žižek when discussing the cynical nature of contemporary ideology. What first may appear as the realist approach of this cynical ideology must be understood in and through its fetishism, making the subject capable of accepting the way things are as long as the fetishistic object is kept intact. In this sense, Brink’s novel and the tradition of IR-theory will be treated as specific instances of the cynical disavowal of the antagonism inherent to the state. Comprising a vast number of texts, our task will be to locate within IR-theory recurring themes that

114   Diplomacy as Ultra-Politics not only relate to diplomacy, but specifically arise out of the incapacities of the diplomatic signifier to deal with the horrors of the two world wars. In a similar fashion, Keyter and Van Heerden will be read as two subjective positions that offer different means to deal with the deadlock of representation arising out of the impossibility of diplomacy resolving the failure at the heart of its Master. Considering that ultra-political diplomacy should be defined by a certain fetishistic repetition, the subject’s () relationship with the object (a) will be defined by a perverse structure (the “I know very well, but nevertheless”). This does not, however, mean that the social link to which a subject belongs is necessarily perverse: even though the discourse as such might hystericize the law, the subject in it can take a perverse stance in relation to its object. Hence, in contrast to Kant and Strether, who as neurotics always attempt to avoid jouissance, what we are here looking for is the attempt to limit jouissance through turning the subject into the object desired by the other, to become an instrument of the ­Master’s will. Attempting this transformation does not mean that the pervert derives satisfaction from the jouissance of this big Other, but rather, it should be read as a defense mechanism against the Master’s impotence. By turning oneself into the object of the Other’s will, the pervert tries to force this Other to formulate a law, meaning our task is to understand how the failure of the Master creates a perverted social link at the same time as it initiates an incessant dialectics of the positions of the subject of this perverted fantasy within the social link. Our guiding questions, in other words, should be the following: how is the symptom structured and how does it arise in relation to the law? And, even if they appear at first sight to be disparate, how do the different active formations still revolve around the same antagonism? Once again, we will thus search for the symptom of the impossibility at the heart of diplomacy, letting us not only capture the ways in which this ideological field is organized, but also close in on the specific form of the antagonism at its heart. Through Žižek’s reading of Lacan’s theory of the four discourses, we will initially focus on the problem of the hystericization of the Master’s discourse that is already discernible in Kant and Strether. From here we will proceed by looking at the dialectical relationship between hystericity and the discourse of the University, and the perversion that becomes possible once the gap at the core has been disavowed rather than, as is the case with archi-political diplomacy, denied. Finally, the question of the way out of a perverted discourse will be treated through the double nature of the Analyst’s discourse, more specifically, through the duality of the objet a. But first, a presentation of the material is called upon. The Struggle between States and Diplomats: André Brink’s The Ambassador and IR-Theory Even though the history of thought on relations between societies can be said to go back to at least the fourth century bce, the early twentieth century is today usually regarded as the time when not only the discipline of International Relations, but also what would become its subdiscipline, Diplomacy Studies, was first

Diplomacy is dead – long live diplomacy!   115 formalized, with this taking place almost simultaneously on both sides of the Atlantic. To understand this situation it is first necessary to begin with a short introduction to how the field itself views the development of the scientific study of diplomacy. A common understanding of a kind of prehistory of International Relations, primarily stemming from the writings of Martin Wight, is that the field as we know it today grew out of three philosophical schools all treating the topic of the relations between states. All three traditions developed between the sixteenth and eighteenth centuries and include the writings on international law exemplified by natural philosophers such as Hugo Grotius and Alberico Gentili (often called Rationalist), the writing on politics by thinkers like Machiavelli and Hobbes (known as Realist), and finally the treatises on peace and law by Kant (labeled Idealist) (Wight 2005). However, even though these three strands illustrate different standpoints surrounding, inter alia, questions of international law, peace-building, and the nature of states and their relationships, it is not possible simply to claim that we are here also dealing with works on diplomacy, most notably since Kant was the only one who could (and in fact did) use the concept. What the invention of International Relations as a field of study thus represents is not only the first formalization of the theoretical study of diplomacy (which up to that time had mostly been a question for historians), but also the introduction of the term diplomacy into already existing philosophical traditions and the mapping of the implicit role of diplomacy within them. As many works on the history of International Relations begin by noting, it is on point of fact of this prehistory that this fledgling discipline was almost immediately defined by a profound theoretical and ideological divide, primarily between Idealists and Realists. Throughout the first decades, this ongoing debate had an enormous influence on the constitution of the field and came to shape a body of IR-theory that remains present to this day. The Idealists are usually credited with the establishment of the discipline’s focus on the relationship between peace and war, most notably by their often-explicit ambition to reform international political practices in order to establish the perpetual peace envisioned by Kant. However, questions regarding the actual practices of diplomacy were never of any real interest to the Idealists, who preferred to focus on realizing a more effective framework for international law. Since diplomacy was rarely used as a concept within the Idealist strand of ­IR-theory, contemporary Diplomacy Studies have been inclined to disregard it altogether when writing the history of the study of diplomacy. In contrast, the First Great Debate in International Relations grew out of the experience of the two World Wars, initiating a crisis in the Idealist tradition and delegitimizing its fundamental claim that an everlasting peace was reachable through legal means. With the emergence of the realist notion of IR-theory the practice and theory of diplomacy became an object of increased scientific interest in the field. This is why Realism is considered by the contemporary field of Diplomacy Studies as constituting the first properly scientific study of diplomacy. The realist understanding of International Relations is often seen as founded on three basic propositions. Primarily, it furthers the idea that international

116   Diplomacy as Ultra-Politics p­ olitics is a realm separate from domestic politics, made up by sovereign authorities interacting with each other. Second, the field of International Relations is characterized by a certain anarchy, according to which different desires or interests of individual sovereigns are not organized, structured, or regulated by some higher authority; and finally, the entire complex of International Relations is first and foremost guided by the principle of a “balance of power.” Since a balance of power can be upheld peacefully or violently, diplomacy also became a central concept in the works of many influential early Realists, including E.  H. Carr, Hans J. Morgenthau, Raymond Aron, and George F. Kennan. But as soon as diplomacy is subsumed under the more general problematic of a balance of power, it tends to turn the Realist treatment of diplomacy into a question of normativity, that is, of how best to organize diplomatic practice so that it ensures the perfect balance between multiple state actors. Although sometimes presented as situated on the fringes of Classical Realism, Raymond Aron’s definition of the relationship between International Relations and diplomacy perfectly illustrates the idea that Realism “[a]s a science of peace and war […] can serve as a basis for the arts of diplomacy and strategy, the complementary and opposed methods by which dealings among states are conducted” (2003, 6). Thus, diplomacy itself did not seem to call for any in-depth study by Classical Realism since it needed, in order to function, the acknowledgment by all states that the principle of a balance of power is the natural foundation for their possible coexistence. Realist theory of diplomacy can therefore be said to be characterized by a highly normative approach often dependent on anecdotal considerations, a trait which is often explained by the fact that seminal figures such as Carr and Kennan shared a history as active diplomats. However, with the rise of ­Neo-Realism in the 70s, the field, to a large extent, left questions of diplomacy behind, since it, although of interest for scholars observing some specific historical chain of events, could not take part in establishing a theory of the field itself. The Neo-realist perspective is, in other words, one wherein “[t]he survival of the system overrides the survival of any of its components” (Teschke 2003, 15). Although the English School received its name in the righties, the tradition goes back to a number of works by British scholars such as C. A. W. Manning, Martin Wright, and Hedley Bull, mostly published during the fifties and sixties. Rather than simply accepting the Realpolitik conception of International Relations as a state of nature lacking fixed relations, the English School sought to go beyond anarchy, supplementing it with a theory of an international society. This means that although relations between states appear to be anarchic, the concept still logically presupposes a minimum level of solidarity among states (i.e., the fact that no overarching power guides the relationship between states does not mean that states, merely by relating to each other, cannot be seen as forming a kind of society). In the preface to their seminal anthology Diplomatic Investigations, Martin Wight and Herbert Butterfield defined this society through the concept of diplomacy: “First, the frame of reference has been, not the limits and uses of international theory, nor the formulation of foreign policy, but the diplomatic community itself, international society, the states-system” (1966, 12).

Diplomacy is dead – long live diplomacy!   117 However, the difference between early English School scholars, who came together in The Committee on the Theory of International Politics housed at the London School of Economics, and the then predominant Classical Realist theory was at least initially almost negligible, meaning that diplomacy was still predominantly understood as an instrument in the hands of the state, used to further cooperation and peaceful coexistence rather than war. What Wight instead wanted to develop was a historical and practical dimension to an understanding of diplomacy, aims which brought the study of diplomacy closer to the field of Intellectual History, turning away from the existing focus on policy and the prescription of proper action. However, despite these changes, contemporary Diplomacy Studies is often critical of the English School and its, at best sweeping, treatment of diplomacy. Not until the early eighties, with the publication of Adam Watson’s Diplomacy: The Dialogue Between States, did it receive special attention from any of the school’s members. Watson’s fundamental definition of diplomacy also bears an unmistakably realist overtone, highlighting how this “dialogue between independent states – the machinery by which their governments conduct it, and the networks of promises, contracts, institutions and codes of conduct which develop out of it – is the substance of diplomacy” (1982, 14). Just as is the case with Realist theory, the English School has gone through several theoretical transformations since the middle of the last century. With the latest theoretical turn, taking place during the eighties, the concept of diplomacy became almost completely sidelined from all theoretical work. According to some, this situation may appear contradictory, especially since the English School’s focus turned further toward themes and questions of Intellectual History, a field which had traditionally put an emphasis precisely on the role of diplomacy. The problem, according to, for instance, Iver B. Neumann, is that the style of Intellectual History that has dominated the English School since the eighties can be described as an attempt to treat institutions and phenomena associated with International Relations in isolation rather than as parts of a greater whole. This means that, as he puts it: “it seems clear that diplomacy, and the other institutions of International Relations for that matter, are not special enough for this splendid scholarly isolation to be warranted” (Neumann 2003, 104). Despite the waning interest in diplomacy during the eighties, the English School remained influential in the contemporary field of Diplomacy Studies, mostly due to the extensive impact of James Der Derian’s book On Diplomacy: A Genealogy of Western Estrangement, published originally in 1987. Der Derian’s work is therefore often assumed to constitute the dividing line between the traditional treatment of diplomacy within Classical Realism and the English School, on the one hand, and the field that, during the nineties, came to be known as Diplomacy Studies, on the other. To understand the symptom of this specific understanding of the object of diplomacy, we will study Classical Realism and the English School over a period of almost 50 years. It is a course of time that will take us from E. H. Carr’s The Twenty Years’ Crisis, through the works of Hans J. Morgenthau, George F. Kennedy, Hedley Bull, and Adam Watson, up to and including Der Derian’s On Diplomacy.

118   Diplomacy as Ultra-Politics Against IR-theory’s understanding of diplomacy which emphasizes balance and the forming of a society of equals, the hierarchic structure of any particular embassy seems to propose an opposed image of diplomacy, where success is dependent on obedience, following of protocol, and respecting the chain of command rather than “relations of mutual recognition.” What the tale of two diplomatic subjects found in André Brink’s The Ambassador hopefully will show us is the other side of diplomacy as ultra-politics, how ideas of division and unity are reshaped in Paris’ diplomatic district. In Brink’s early novel, we initially meet the young Stephen Keyter, a 23-year-old Third Secretary at the South African Embassy in Paris. In the first chapter of the book (which as a whole is organized as a mosaic divided into five chapters with different narrative styles and featuring three different protagonists), Keyter, in what seems to be a journal of some sort, speaks about the anguish currently haunting him. The origin of his anxiety is whether or not he should write a report to the Department in Pretoria regarding the Ambassador’s scandalous affair with a young South African girl (with whom Keyter himself, incidentally, had also been romantically involved). The torment that comes from writing this report leads Keyter to use his diary to reminisce about his life, his time at the Embassy, and how everything seemed to have culminated in the difficult choice between writing the report or letting the transgression of the official moral code pass unnoticed. What becomes obvious from Keyter’s own recollections is that he, on the one hand, perceives himself as being very ambitious. He clearly nurtures a dream of one day becoming a successful diplomat, preferably by rising quickly through the ranks to reach the ultimate goal: to be appointed ambassador and, hence, to prove his own worth, especially to his father. On the other hand, the diary also portrays a troubled young man, especially when it comes to his inability to attract women and to understand their mysterious ways. After arriving in Paris, we are told that Keyter’s colleagues quickly identified his lack of significant life-experience, prompting one of them to organize a “rite of passage” in the dark alleys of the Parisian night. While this first encounter with Paris’ decadence turns out to be a shocking experience, Keyter immediately proves his worth to the South African ambassador and instantly moves up the ranks of the embassy. But soon a new ambassador arrives in Paris, Paul Van Heerden, and Keyter quickly learns that the replacement is nothing like his predecessor. As early as the third day after Van Heerden’s arrival, he calls the young man into his office and reprimands him for working with classified documents, a task which the former ambassador regularly entrusted to the Third Secretary. Keyter, who had already started dreaming about a post as ambassador, takes this reprimand as a personal failure and begins to question his own future within the diplomatic corps. As his despair grows, so does his resentment toward the new ambassador. At this point a young South African girl, Nicolette, visits his office in order to replace her lost passport. He initially dismisses her, describing her as boring and unattractive, but when she is about to leave he is nevertheless struck by a sudden urge to ask her out. This is the beginning of a short but stormy relationship which endures until a night when, at a party in Keyter’s

Diplomacy is dead – long live diplomacy!   119 apartment, he takes things too far, resulting in Nicolette slapping him in the face before hurriedly departing into the rain. After his relationship with Nicolette ends, Keyter tries once more to focus on his career, on this occasion asking out the new ambassador’s young daughter. By doing so, Keyter hopes to prove that he is a man fit for the diplomatic lifestyle. Although his advances to the young girl remain fruitless, the Third Secretary develops a bond with the ambassador’s wife, Erika, a woman suffering in silence from a negligent husband and a daughter who is ready to break free from her dependency on family. Late one night, an intoxicated Erika arrives on Keyter’s doorstep asking for a cigarette and a drink before, as Keyter puts it, she gives way to hysteria and starts crying in his arms while telling him about her unbearable situation. Back at work, Keyter spots Nicolette as she is entering the Ambassador’s office without passing through the usual security screening in the lobby. Curious about Nicolette’s behavior, the incident marks the start of Keyter’s investigation into what he believes is the secret relationship between the Ambassador and Nicolette. He follows them around gathering evidence, until one day, when the proof seems indubitable, Keyter feels forced to complete his report, sending it forthwith to the Department in Pretoria. The subsequent two chapters of the novel focus on ambassador Van Heerden. The first of these is marked by a sudden stylistic change, shifting from the engaged, often highly emotional, first-person perspective of Keyter’s diary to a detached narrator, simply describing what our male protagonist thinks and feels. Initially, we learn that Ambassador van Heerden is seen as a master of diplomacy, sent to Paris to deal with a potential scandal threatening South Africa’s diplomatic relations in the wake of an outbreak of violent strikes among the country’s mine workers. However, from the outset, Ambassador van Heerden illustrates a cynical attitude toward these specific tasks and his work as a whole: he does not believe in what he is doing, with every diplomatic act appearing to him as part of a fight against the meaninglessness that plagues his very existence. But when working late in his office one night a knock on the door disturbs Van Heerden’s activities. It is Nicolette who, wet from the rain, enters his office in search of help since, as she claims, her boyfriend has thrown her out of his apartment after a dispute. At first, the Ambassador is annoyed by the disturbance, but when she tells him that her boyfriend is Stephen Keyter, the Ambassador decides to give the young girl a ride home. During the car ride through Paris, Van Heerden is struck by a sense of familiarity in the girl’s appearance. It is not until he returns home that he realizes that Nicolette bears a striking resemblance to an old girlfriend who tragically committed suicide. After their meeting, the Ambassador gradually becomes obsessed with the young girl, making every excuse to see her, and when his wife and daughter leave Paris for Italy his efforts only intensify. While growing ever closer, their relationship is unconsummated until the very day when the Department’s answer to Keyter’s report lands on the Ambassador’s desk. The letter from the Department explicitly asks Van Heerden to provide them with a reasonable explanation of the events in order to allow for the termination of Keyter’s post. The blatant lack of interest that the letter from

120   Diplomacy as Ultra-Politics the Department shows regarding van Heerden’s possible transgression only ­furthers the Ambassador’s sense of futility in his work. Instead of answering the missive, the Ambassador leaves his office and eventually ends up at the door of Nicolette. When he discovers that she is not at home, he decides to wait in the shadows, from which he sees her returning late at night on the arm of a young man. When the man leaves, the Ambassador, now furious, forces himself into the apartment and onto Nicolette. Afterwards, overtaken by guilt for his actions, the young girl is forced to comfort him. Her acts of consolation change his mood once again and he now begins to profess his love for her. Later, after she falls asleep by his side, the Ambassador quietly leaves Nicolette’s apartment and returns to his office. There, he drafts a new letter to the Department, only containing the words “No Comments.” The third section, bearing the title Ambassador, is once again characterized by a shift in the narrative perspective, now returning to the engaged first-person view. In this, by far the longest section we follow the thoughts of the Ambassador as the relationship between him and Nicolette evolves. Here, the central topic is no longer the emptiness of his work, but the fullness of his desire for the young girl. After his wife and daughter leave for Italy, Van Heerden arranges for Nicolette to move into his ambassadorial residence, something which also puts an end to their secret meetings in her small apartment. Forming a life with his young girlfriend, the Ambassador now finally feels liberated from the dull life of diplomacy, realizing that only Nicolette is able to provide him with the freedom and meaning in life that he so greatly desires. Invigorated not only by his desire for all the young girls of Paris, but just as much by jealousy, the Ambassador’s Spring in Paris ends with his wife’s turbulent return. Upon discovering that he has invited his mistress to live in their home, Erika decides to leave her husband, taking her daughter and returning to South Africa. The fourth, and shortest, section, entitled Nicolette, follows the incoherent and rambling thoughts of the young girl as she lies in the bath tub in the Ambassador’s residence. Her considerations wander from her love for eating apples in the shower to the men in her life and this short section abruptly ends with ­Nicolette stepping out of the bath. The following (final) section begins with the arrival of a new telegram from the Department in Pretoria. After reading the verdict, Van Heerden calls Keyter into his office to announce that Keyter has been called back to Pretoria. But the young man’s reaction to the news surprises the Ambassador. Keyter simply reads the letter, nods, and asks if he can keep it. After calmly rejecting Van Heerden’s assistance, Keyter leaves the office to prepare for his return to South Africa. Puzzled by the event of the morning, Van Heerden leaves the embassy to look for Nicolette. On finally locating her, she is unable to offer him any peace of mind. He once again leaves, this time to visit Keyter. After some insistent knocking on Keyter’s door, two neighbors pass by close to Van Heerden, complaining about the smell of gas. The Ambassador proceeds to break into the apartment only to find Keyter already dead on the kitchen floor. A few days after the Third Secretary’s suicide, the Ambassador receives yet another letter, this time informing him of a commission arriving from

Diplomacy is dead – long live diplomacy!   121 London to investigate the death of his employee. Van Heerden immediately leaves his office to find comfort in Nicolette, only to discover that she has cleaned out her apartment and left the city. Finally, after aimlessly wandering around Paris, the Ambassador returns to his residence where he is informed by his night guard that Nicolette had visited and, when informed about the tragic suicide of Keyter, stormed out screaming. This knowledge seems to provide Van Heerden with the peace of mind which he has craved since, now smiling and humming a tune, he once again returns to his reading room, reminding himself that some work needs to be finished.

When diplomacy fails At the very point at which archi-political diplomacy seems to end, a form of spurious infinity also marks the introduction of a fetishistic element: turning the already given (original) law into something which must be pronounced in every instance (to retain the fantasy of its completeness). Hence, although knowing very well that the truly successful diplomatic act, only possible to imagine within the bounds of an “organically structured homogenous social space” (Žižek 2008b, 224) was unachievable, both Kant and Strether nevertheless chose to act as if they believed in it. What is thus at once accepted and rejected is the impossibility of ever achieving the stable social link. This situation can be read as part of the deterioration of the Master’s discourse which begins with the absolute monarch and the passage from feudalism to liberal democracy. As Žižek has noted, this destabilization of the figure of the Master “triggers the split of the Master’s discourse into the discourse of Hysteria and the discourse of the ­ ­University as the two facets of the capitalist social link” (2017, 209). And is it not precisely the former of these two, the hysterization of the discourse, that we encounter in the pronunciation of diplomacy’s death? To understand why, let us start with a little background to Lacan’s theory of the four discourses in general, and to the problem of the Hysteric, focusing specifically on Lacan’s seventeenth seminar. In 1969, in a heated debate on the topic of university politics, Marx, and the USSR, Lacan uttered the now famous phrase: “What you aspire to as revolutionaries is a master. You will get one” (2007, 207). What is implied here is how the hysterical questioning of authority illustrative of the 68-movement was bound to turn in on itself and produce a new Master. This statement, as Žižek often points out, highlighted the fundamentally dialectical nature of Lacan’s theory of the four discourses, most notably through a link between the position of product and that of the agent. What is implied is not that the hysterical question will install a new Master in the traditional, feudal, sense, but that, by confronting , it will force into production some new knowledge () which in turn will take on the guise of the agent. What we see here is, in other words, the dialectical shift from the discourse of the Hysteric to that of the University. It is in these dialectical terms that we should understand the very transformation that arises out of the failure of both Kant’s and Strether’s ideal. What Lacan pointed to in his famous quip regarding

122   Diplomacy as Ultra-Politics

Figure 6.1 

the Hysteric questioning is thus that the questioning does not necessarily constitute a true call for a new Master. Instead, what we get is a fetishized activity not intended to overthrow the failed authority but rather designed to provoke the old Master to once again proclaim the law (albeit in a seemingly new way). For Keyter, however, the problem of the weak Master does not appear immediately as his first experience at the Embassy in Paris is rather successful. He also seems to take comfort in the fact that promotion can make up for him being the last of his class sent abroad on a mission (Brink 1985, 42). What Keyter is experiencing in his success is an identification with his ideal-ego, an imaginary “identification with the image in which we appear likable to ourselves” (Žižek 2008a, 116). In the symbolic, under the sign of the Master Signifier, this imaginary level must be inserted into the field of the big Other by including it under a law. Keyter illustrates these two sides of identification when he fantasizes about a future when even his condescending father has to admit his son’s success (Brink 1985, 14). Hence, this symbolic side is “identification with the very place from where we are being observed” (Žižek 2008a, 116), in other words, with the desire of the other (his father and his ambassador) under the sign of diplomacy. However, since these two sides can never coincide, their unavoidable split stains identification, thereby leaving in its wake an antagonism that creates anxiety. Keyter’s continued expression of disdain for his colleagues and their spouses is one way in which this anxiety at first shows itself. Hence, even though Ambassador Theunissen, embodying the gaze of diplomacy, seems very pleased with Keyter’s work, promoting him and entrusting him with tasks and responsibilities that surpass those of any normal Third Secretary, Keyter’s first steps toward success within the diplomatic corps are still haunted by his own questioning and sense of self-doubt. He is constantly annoyed by what he sees as the incompetence of his fellow diplomats, pointing out how they will never become great. What creates this anxiety is precisely the gap within the diplomatic signifier: the constant failure of his Master to only reward those who succumb to the symbolic law of the embassy, to the law of the Master Signifier, forces Keyter to ask whether his own success is not due to the quality of his work at all but, just as with everybody else, is simply the effect of one or another totally contingent fact?

Diplomacy is dead – long live diplomacy!   123 The same structure of failure in relation to diplomacy as a paternal metaphor seems to haunt the early Realists when speaking of their own disagreements with the then dominant Idealist strand of International Relations theory. What we see here is the failure of diplomacy to uphold a stable symbolic order, a failure to provide a fantasy in the guise of a symbolic fiction. Precisely, it was this anxiety that came to lay the ground for the first major theoretical dispute, later known within the field as the First Great Debate, that took place around the beginning of the Second World War. The issue at stake – as was already evident in one of the founding texts of Realism, E. H. Carr’s The Twenty Years Crisis – was the failure to preserve peace in Europe in the twentieth century. At the heart of this failure, the Realists located the concept of diplomacy, which had been popularized after the First World War with what Carr believed to be dire consequences. The blame was put on a certain political movement, the clearest expression of which was US President Woodrow Wilson’s call for a diplomacy that would “proceed always frankly and in the public view” (1918, 5). For Carr, however, “the blame for the secret treaties should have been imputed, not to the wickedness of the governments, but to the indifference of the peoples” (2001, 1–2). He also confronted what for him and others at the time amounted to an unjustified lack in Idealism’s approach to a theory on diplomacy, specifically its failure to develop a scientific understanding of this practice. Similar to the situation during the middle of the nineteenth century, the continued success of the art of diplomacy once again seemed to be at risk, threatened by the hands of “the people” and their demand for greater openness, transparency, and democracy. Nevertheless, the realist call for change seemed to take on a certain fetishistic logic. For while it was claimed that democracy is the unsurpassable horizon of state government, diplomacy must somehow be excluded. Thus the problem with the theory of diplomacy, as seen from the Classical Realist perspective, was not only that the utopianism of Idealist IR-theory had unduly placed emphasis on the ideals of international law rather than the actual practices of diplomacy, but that this focus had also allowed the figure of the people too much influence, creating a theoretical vacuum in Political Science with devastating consequences. In other words, the gaze of science, assigned the mission of upholding the honorable aims of diplomacy (i.e., establishing perpetual peace), failed in its task, leaving the important questions to practitioners and voters while focusing its time on how the ideal system of states should be organized. This anxiety, linked to the failure of the Master, defines in nuce the realist critique of Idealism. This problem, which gave rise to Realism as a theoretical paradigm and which also arises in Brink’s novel in the form of Stephen Keyter’s anxiety about his incompetent colleagues, seems to stretch back to the very formation of diplomacy: it is owing to the failure of the fantasy of archi-political diplomacy and the impotence of the Master, that this impossibility is revealed, accounting for the vigorous questioning in which both Realism and the character of Keyter engage. However, the fact that Ambassador Theunissen and Keyter’s father cannot appreciate true talent is not enough to create more than a slight discomfort in the

124   Diplomacy as Ultra-Politics young diplomat. Instead, the first real disaster arrives in the guise of the painful reprimand that he suffers at the hands of the new ambassador, Paul Van Heerden. The issue for Keyter was not that the Ambassador was right, but that he seemed incapable of doing anything wrong himself, never appearing “to lead two lives – official and private – but only one” (Brink 1985, 47–48), turning the reprimand into a sign of Keyter’s inability ever to become a successful diplomat since he could not separate his work from his ambitions. Hence, not content with the fact that the Master had effectively limited his jouissance (and that the Master, furthermore, seemed to coincide with the law as One), Keyter’s frustration with Van Heerden should not be read as an indication of a desire for the Ambassador to have looked the other way (allowing him to work with classified documents). Rather, it is an expression of the perverse structure of Keyter’s questioning. What Keyter experiences is the official explanation for the failure of representation, that is, the idea that the subject is forced to lead just one life, to live by the official protocol without any desires beside those of the represented country. But what appears as a frustration with Van Heerden – pointing out that the young man’s personal ambition (to become a successful diplomat) clashes with the aims of the embassy – is just the jouissance that a perverted logic can extract from hysterically questioning the Master, thereby making him restate the law. This, in other words, was Keyter’s issue with Ambassador Theunissen: he never punished his subordinates for any transgressions, leaving the young man to suffer from anxiety that arose from a sense that what is lacking is a law that could keep jouissance at bay. This problem with the inconsistency of the law, that it seems to be claiming one thing while doing another, was also experienced by the early scholars of the English School, perhaps most perfectly illustrated by the question in the title of Martin Wight’s text in Diplomatic Investigation: “Why is there no international theory?” Here, he claims that theory, in the guise of “speculation about relations between states […] does not, at first sight, exist” (1966, 17). In the Realist tradition this problem is, as we have already seen, illustrated by the political failure of Idealism. However, with the English School, and its interest in the history of ideas, this problem also takes on a more philosophical character. What bothered scholars of the English School was that science seemed always to move in the opposite direction to the practice of which it was supposed to be in the service: “When diplomacy is violent and unscrupulous, international law soars into the regions of natural law; when diplomacy acquires a certain habit of co-operation, international law crawls in the mud of legal positivism”(Wight 1966, 29). This problem was not, however, presented as a gap between theory and practice, but rather as something internal to law itself, to its tendency to move beyond its own limits. Wight developed this idea in relation to Kant, pointing out how the law’s supposedly natural foundation disintegrates in the last instance, leaving its contingent grounding exposed, beseeching us for its blind acceptance (1966, 28). What he means is that the process of unending approximation, the spurious infinity that defines the realization of Kant’s perpetual peace is the proof of the impossibility of the law itself. But it is not only the question of the grounding of

Diplomacy is dead – long live diplomacy!   125 law that exposes this contradictory nature (the fact that the supposed natural origin in reality shows itself to be just a moral appeal). Some thinkers, such as George F. Kennan, went even further, claiming that the political failure of Idealism did not lie in its lack of scientificity but in its most basic understanding of International Relations since it, “in a desire to do away with war and violence, makes violence more enduring, more terrible” (2012, 107). Not only is the law supposed to render the perpetual peace promised by Idealism unachievable, through the very recourse to moralist principles it ends up being even more violent than other alternatives. It is at this point that IR-theory and the predicament of Stephen Keyter both illustrate the failure of the Master’s discourse, the breakdown of the stable Master. Each in its own way constitutes an attempt at actually confronting the Master’s () failure to include the subject () and the object (a) in the chain of signifiers (). With Keyter, the issue at hand is the lack of a law, that is, his former ambassador’s incapacity to remain one with the diplomatic law of representation (meaning that the young man cannot find his place), while the Idealists seemed to have failed to include the practice of diplomacy in their theoretical understanding of International Relations (). But what appears as an acceptance of the failure of the archi-political fantasy of diplomacy should rather be read as the first step into diplomacy as ultra-politics. What we can see here is the move from archi-political denial to ultra-political disavowal, the latter consisting in explicitly accepting that there is a conflict within the official law such that the actual antagonism can be isolated, making it appear elsewhere in the form of new symptoms. Fundamental to the hysterical discourse, where the Master () is approached by the split subject (), is the fact that symptoms appear in the Master’s discourse for which the subject demands answers. A symptom is what intervenes in the fantasmatic relationship between  and a in the Master’s discourse, between the subject and its (as well as its Master’s) object of desire. Thus, it is the impossibility of diplomacy that reveals itself through symptoms that haunt every aspect of its official speech. The symptomal spark, which initiates the entire novel The Ambassador, can be found in the moment when Keyter discovers that Van Heerden is having an affair with Nicolette: If the present Ambassador’s predecessor, Jan Theunissen, had been involved [in an affair] […] I might have chosen to let a sleeping St Bernard lie. He never tried to hide his essential, flawed humanity. But now it’s Ambassador Van Heerden: the great perfectionist, the imposing man-ofinfluence, and probably the most efficient diplomat to represent South Africa abroad in decades. Not the slightest slip or oversight is tolerated in the Embassy, for the simple reason that he himself never makes a mistake. (Brink 1985, 13) What Keyter experiences here is a renewed intrusion of the very jouissance that was kept at bay by the Ambassador’s reprimand: he is forced to realize that there is no distinction between one’s private and official life, thereby overturning

126   Diplomacy as Ultra-Politics the coherent law of the diplomatic Master; after all, even the most respected of envoys can be driven by personal desires. There is, in other words, not an external threat (the private life) that haunts representation, but something else. The Kantian fantasy of a diplomatic Master with one clearly defined desire (the will of the people) is, in other words, once and for all destroyed by its own haunting symptom, here present in the form of Nicolette. What Keyter sees in the young girl, as she walks into the Ambassador’s office without passing the security screening, is the symptom as a material embodiment of a deadlock provoking his hysterical questioning. But as noted, the questioning of Keyter is not, as a proper Hysteric, intended to expose the lack of the Master’s knowledge, but to provoke the Master into once again stating the law. Although the law might at first appear as a source of frustration, what happens when the symptom confronts Keyter with the lack in the Other’s desire is that it turns impossible or incomplete, confronting him with the question that Lacan termed Che Vuoi? Why is the Master acting this way when it has such horrifying consequences? When formulating his letter to the Department in Pretoria, his act against this very impossibility, Keyter also references a weird sense of duty that compels him to write. He points out that in sending the report he is actually breaking one of diplomacy’s laws, and that his superior “Douglas Masters, in turn, would cite long passages from Satow or Nicholson to argue that a Third Secretary should not stoop to such behaviour” (Brink 1985, 13). He is also well aware that other young diplomats in his situation have found their own careers destroyed when reporting the improper acts of their superiors. Nevertheless, he feels the need to confront his Master with this question, believing he had “no choice left” (Brink 1985, 13), not, then, to show that the “emperor is naked,” but to force some Master figure to limit jouissance. The nature of a symptom is such that it presents itself to the subject as an enigma, as something which cannot be understood. This is why Keyter’s symptom, which haunts his new life in Paris, relates not to his work but to women and sex, illustrated through his inability to attract women and to perform sexually. In the first section of the novel, Keyter seems entirely consumed by women and sex to such a degree that he never actually reflects on his own work at the embassy, unless it is in the context of a woman. Thus Nicolette is not a symptom only from the moment she is romantically involved with the ambassador. Rather, once Keyter has reflected on his own relationship with Nicolette as he writes the letter to the Department in Pretoria, she retroactively appears as if she has always been the symptom. The relationship, initiated by their meeting in his office, is continuously plagued by Keyter’s hysterical questioning. What we see here are also the effects of isolation, meaning that the symptom first appears as detached from the diplomatic signifier. As she walks into his office, he feels the need to explain why he does not find her attractive, before being overcome with anxiety: In the beginning she was only a fairly attractive if somewhat angular, almost gawky girl who came into my office in the Embassy basement in

Diplomacy is dead – long live diplomacy!   127 connection with a lost passport. […] Strange, that almost professorial air about her, especially when she removed the sunglasses: something myopic about the way she blinked against the light. […] She went to the door. Something like panic surged up in me. Suppose she left – and never came back? (Brink 1985, 21, 24) This duality becomes a characterizing trait of their relationship; Keyter is torn between, on the one hand, his need to confront her in order to find out what he is to her and, on the other, the anxiety that emerges as a result of the answer he supposedly receives from this confrontation. Haunted by anxieties that she is only with him for financial reasons – as she remains cold and distant and keeps flirting with other men even when he is around – he lashes out at her, sarcastically offering her money while asking if he needs to pay her more for that kind of service. But instead of being provoked by his insinuations, Nicolette takes the money and continues to prepare a bath. But Keyter remains incapable of deciding how to interpret her act, asking himself if he should join her in the bathroom or not: “Should I? Dare I? Suppose she meant it? Suppose she didn’t mean it?” (Brink 1985, 40). We see, once again, that the problem is not that the other is inconsistent, but that he wants her to limit his jouissance, to put an end to his suffering. The same thing can be found in his relationship with the Ambassador’s young daughter. Even though he imagines that this relationship is only a career move, pointing out that “if something did develop between Annette and me it might compensate for the position of inferiority to which her father had relegated me” (Brink 1985, 49), it is still crippled by his anxieties. As she continues to reject his advances he decides to attempt to “break her in,” to get her out of what he sees as her stubborn dismissal of him, by taking her to a shabby night club. But when she, after an evening of impeccable grace at a greasy bar, furiously ends their relationship, Keyter’s reaction indicates the origin of his anxieties: We were silent all the way to the Embassy. I wanted to plead with her, to grasp her hands and beg her not to tell anybody about it. But I couldn’t. And at the same time I was furious about yet another failure. (Brink 1985, 50) In yet another example of “saying more than he intended,” what Keyter shows is that the issue was never the woman, whether with Nicolette nor Annette. Instead, his issue with women is directly connected to his symbolic position. It is the impossibility of the Other’s desire that returns in the woman as symptom; the fact that he does not know who he is to his Master reasserts itself as his incapability of establishing a proper romantic relationship. The symptom confronts Keyter with the fact that he does not really know who he is. Even though a symptom is at first presented as an enigma to the subject, its successful interpretation is supposed to lead to its dissolution. However, it is

128   Diplomacy as Ultra-Politics also possible to find satisfaction in a faked act of interpretation, disavowing the signifier actually producing the symptom in favor of a feigned interpretation. This is what could be said to distinguish Keyter’s perversion, caught as it is in the discourse of the Hysteric, and a perverted version of the social link offered by the University discourse. The latter we find in IR-theory, which after the First World War became obsessed with the problem of the people and its opinions, a problem that was taken to reveal the impossibility of a global society: The campaign for the popularisation of international politics began in the English-speaking countries in the form of an agitation against secret treaties, which were attacked, on insufficient evidence, as one of the causes of the war. The blame for the secret treaties should have been imputed, not to the wickedness of the governments, but to the indifference of the peoples. (Carr 2001, 2) In the writings of Realists and, to some extent, members of the English School, the figure of the people becomes the image of the failure of twentieth century diplomacy. The will of the people, constitutive of Kantian Idealism, brought about the World Wars not so much because of its blood-lust (Kant was not wrong about the people’s lust for peace), but rather because of how its presence in foreign policy undermined the actual functioning of diplomacy. As such, “the machinery of the government […] has felt itself beholden to short-term trends of public opinion in the country” as well as “what we might call the erratic and subjective nature of public reaction to foreign-policy questions” (Kennan 2012, 99 [emphasis added]). Although the demand for diplomatic openness goes back much further than the First World War, it is obvious how the people’s will takes on the function of a symptom, not of future success but of the inevitable failure of a perpetual peace: “[D]iplomacy has largely lost its importance […] as a consequence of the progressive march of people to political power, on the one hand, and the consequent growth of the system of international conference on the other” (Simonds and Emeny 1935, 117). The Idealist tradition, plagued by the will of the people, is thus making its own “inclination to analyse facts and means weak or nonexistent” (Carr 2001, 5), leading to what Carr describes as an infantile and primitive science. The interpretation of what appears as the symptom of the Idealist Master becomes the very driving force behind a new understanding of diplomacy that arises in the period between the First World War and the end of the Cold War. But why would this thesis become relentlessly repeated by IR-scholars? Why does the symptom persist even after interpretation? Following Žižek, this points to an opposition between symptom and fantasy, wherein the latter is what allows the former to persist (even though it has been interpreted) when the subject in question fails to, through interpretation, acquire a certain distance to the fantasy frame. The act of interpretation becomes, in cynical ideology, an act of jouissance making the subject unable to renounce the symptom (Žižek 2008a, 80). There is, in other words, an important difference between the people and the

Diplomacy is dead – long live diplomacy!   129 rabble: while the former is a positive existence (i.e., the “people’s will” around which a state should, in a certain way, conduct its foreign relations), the latter serves as the very negation of the state, disclosing its very impossibility. Here, the unnerving feeling, which the symptom continuously causes, is counteracted by the pleasure that comes from interpreting it, by including it in the existing fantasy, thus deferring any proper confrontation with the impossibility of representing the people. Understanding the people as a symptom in this way suggests that IR-theorists of the inter- and post-war period, although officially declaring a distance to the impossible Idealist fantasy of a perpetual peace, still retained this ideal by constantly interpreting any inconsistency as arising from the people. Herbert Butterfield for instance writes: We may wonder whether the proclamation of “new diplomacy” and “simpler” types of policy in 1919 was not itself an example of the danger which some of our predecessors were dreading – in fact, a facile attempt to pander to the self-esteem of the masses. The call for a “simpler” diplomacy envisaged a world in which there were “good” states harassed only because they had to deal with the possible emergence of “bad” ones […]. (Butterfield 1966, 182) By formulating the problem of diplomacy as arising from the will of the people (and politicians pandering to it), IR-theory can provide jouissance by provoking the law with a false antagonism, thus allowing it to survive unharmed. Here we can thus see how the way in which both Keyter and IR-theory relate to the symptom can be brought together: on the one hand, we have Keyter’s incapability of interpreting his own symptom, hysterically confronting it, provoking it so that it can be pushed into providing him with a law; on the other, we can trace the repetition of the theme of the people in IR-theory as a fetishistic way of forcing the Master to uphold a law which they knew very well had already failed. One difference, however, is how, for Keyter, the fantasy of a coherent Master still remains (although his apparent inconsistencies still haunt him). Here, a successful interpretation of the symptom (Nicolette) might have shown him the fundamental inconsistencies of this Master. In IR-theory, on the other hand, the fantasy of the coherence of the present Master is explicitly rejected through the critique of Idealism. At issue here, however, is how the people intervene at precisely the point at which the inconsistencies come together, the last figure intervening before we fall into the void of the Master that is the Rabble. A certain sense of tragedy therefore defines realist theory; it had realized the limits of science and in response it sought to limit itself and its scope, hoping not to fail again. This state of affairs is not dissimilar to Keyter when he decides to take the Ambassador’s daughter out, limiting his amorous life in order to become a perfect representative. However, what Keyter understands when reading the letter from the Department is the answer to the question he had continuously been asking: his Master does not want to remove his colleagues, those

130   Diplomacy as Ultra-Politics who sin against his law by enjoying their transgressions, rather it is Keyter who is in need of eradication. Thus, what the return of the letter confronts him with is the truth of his own message, it is not their acceptance of transgression but his  questioning of it that constitutes the problem. This revelation transforms Keyter’s entire subjectivity: he no longer searches for the object of the Other’s desire, instead he becomes the objet a, the thing he needs to expel to restore the utopian community, a fantasy as symbolic fiction. Finally, he realizes “how things really stand” and a perverted fantasy can form wherein the desire of the law of the other is to get rid of those who, like him, threaten the utopia by not engaging with enjoyment in the proper way. It is this that forces him to take the ultimate step, taking his own life. Only then can representation function again. Nevertheless, what International Relations theory effectively wants to provide the world with, in the eyes of both Realists scholars and the English School, is a scientific basis for diplomatic practices, just as Keyter initially wanted nothing more than the Ambassador to tell him what to do to be successful. Their respective provocations are, therefore, intended to force the Master to “get his act together” and provide a law. As we will now see, it is this provocation that pushes the diplomatic discourse to reinvent itself once again.

Bibliography Aron, Raymond. 2003. Peace and War: A Theory of International Relations. Translated by Daniel J. Mahoney. New Brunswick, NJ: Transaction Publ. Brink, André P. 1985. The Ambassador. London: Faber and Faber. Burke, Edmund. 1999. “Letters on a Regicide Peace: Letter No. 2. Genius and Character of the French Revolution.” In Select Works of Edmund Burke, Vol. 3: Letters on a Regicide Peace, 153–190. Indianapolis, Ind.: Liberty Fund. Butterfield, Herbert. 1966. “The New Diplomatic History and Historical Diplomacy.” In Diplomatic Investigations, edited by Herbert Butterfield and Martin Wight, 181–192. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press. Carr, Edward Hallett. 2001. The Twenty Years’ Crisis, 1919–1939: An Introduction to the Study of International Relations. Basingstoke: Palgrave. Der Derian, James. 1987. On Diplomacy: A Genealogy of Western Estrangement. Oxford: Blackwell. Ganesco, Grégory. 1856. Diplomatie et Nationalité. Paris: Á la librarie nouvelle. Hugo, François-Victor. 1871. “La fin de la diplomatie.” Le Rappel, January 18, 1871. Kennan, George F. 2012. American Diplomacy. Edited by John J. Mearsheimer. Chicago, Ill.: The University of Chicago Press. Lacan, Jacques. 2007. The Seminar, Book XVII: The Other Side of Psychoanalysis, 1969–1970. Edited by Jacques-Alain Miller. Translated by Russell Grigg. New York, NY: W. W. Norton & Co. Mannoni, Octave. 1985. Clefs pour l’imaginaire ou l’autre scène. Paris: Seuil. Murger, Henry. 1874. Donna Sirène. Paris: Michel Lévy Frères Éditeurs. Neumann, Iver B. 2003. “The English School on Diplomacy: Scholarly Promise Unfulfilled.” International Relations 17 (3): 341–69. https://doi.org/10.1177/00471178030173006. Simonds, Frank H., and Brooks Emeny. 1935. The Great Powers in World Politics: International Relations and Economic Nationalism. New York, NY: American Book Company.

Diplomacy is dead – long live diplomacy!   131 Teschke, Benno. 2003. The Myth of 1648: Class, Geopolitics, and the Making of Modern International Relations. London: Verso. Watson, Adam. 1982. Diplomacy: The Dialogue between States. London: Eyre Methuen. Wight, Martin. 1966. “Why Is There No International Theory?” In Diplomatic Investigations, edited by Herbert Butterfield and Martin Wight, 17–34. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press. Wight, Martin. 2005. Four Seminal Thinkers in International Theory: Machiavelli, Grotius, Kant, and Mazzini. Edited by Brian Porter and Gabriele Wight. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Wight, Martin, and Herbert Butterfield. 1966. “Preface.” In Diplomatic Investigations, edited by Herbert Butterfield and Martin Wight, 11–13. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press. Wilson, Woodrow. 1918. Address of the President of the United States, Delivered at a Joint Session of the Two Houses of Congress, January 8, 1918. Washington D.C.: National Government Publications. Žižek, Slavoj. 2008a. The Sublime Object of Ideology. 2nd ed. London: Verso. Žižek, Slavoj. 2008b. The Ticklish Subject: The Absent Centre of Political Ontology. 2nd ed. London: Verso. Žižek, Slavoj. 2017. Incontinence of the Void: Economico-Philosophical Spandrels. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press.

7 Diplomacy and the nuclear threat

Diplomacy and the nuclear threat As discussed earlier, in Lacan’s claim against the students of ’68, we see a fundamental transformation according to which a perverted hysterical questioning only produces a new chain of signifiers () which subsequently takes on the role of agent (thus moving from the discourse of the Hysteric to the discourse of the University). The question that we need to address now is how are we to understand the provocations of Keyter and IR-theory? Primarily, as Žižek has also noted, the students’ call for a Master to lay down the law is to be understood in its relation to the specific historical functioning of capitalism. The capitalist discourse – which, according to Žižek’s interpretation is not a single discourse but a specific historical configuration of the four discourses – demands a subject engaged in excessive enjoyment, while simultaneously always searching for a Master capable of preventing this enjoyment from running out of control. Hence, capitalism is, on the one hand, the Master’s law urging the subject to enjoy as little as possible, and, on the other, the superego injunction for the subject to keep enjoying. As Žižek goes on to note, this means that this split of the Master’s discourse (into a hysterical search for a new signifier and the super-ego’s injunction to enjoy) is predicated on the fact that this subject is, in capitalism, formally free (2012, 1007–1008). Thus, what we get with the breakdown of the feudal Master – and the incessant questioning of power by the Parisian students, Keyter and IR-theory – is not simply neutral knowledge without power, but an incessant dialectic of knowledge between the perverted questioning of the ­Hysteric’s discourse and the fetishistic cynical acceptance of the University discourse. Beginning with archi-political diplomacy, diplomacy was supposed to provide the revolutionary subject with this new Master, a signifier capable of upholding a perpetual peace in a system perceived to lack any of the earlier overarching authorities (Church, Empire, Absolute Monarch) with the ability to ensure tranquility. In other words, diplomacy provided a possibility of constraining the subject’s enjoyment by its supposed commitment to the innate desire for peace that comes with being a citizen (in contradistinction to the untethered and destructive violence of the savage). The inevitable failure to provide this peace and to hold together the community of citizens (linked to capitalism’s inability

Diplomacy and the nuclear threat   133 to enforce a stable Master Signifier), gave birth to the hysterical questioning of diplomacy we find in both the character of Stephen Keyter and the idea of the death of diplomacy. This, however, is not in the neurotic sense of forcing the Master to expose his limits but, rather, as part of the perverted aim of (re-)establishing the law. Hence, Lacan’s famous quip that the hysterical questioning of the Master will only produce another Master, from a Žižekian perspective only becomes possible when these discourses are defined by a logic of disavowal. In other words, any hysterical discourse either gives rise to a new chain of signifiers or, as in the case of Keyter, pushes the subject into a suicidal spiral. But, as we will see, neither the ambassadorial subjects of Brink’s The Ambassador nor the post-war field of International Relations, are simply tales of the failure of diplomacy as a Master Signifier. They are equally illustrative of the fact that, as a product of this perverted questioning, a new function for knowledge comes to be organized under the name of diplomacy. In the case of Stephen Keyter, we can read his ideology as symptomatic of the hystericizing discourse of the Master, explaining his numerous attempts to confront girlfriends and colleagues alike. As a subject of diplomacy, Keyter appears unable to cope with the fact that his Master is inconsistent, which is why he constantly tries to provoke the Master into disclosing his proper desire, that is, to lay down the law. When examining the second main character of Brink’s novel, Ambassador Van Heerden, we should start by taking note of how he distinguishes himself from Keyter, portraying his young employee as having a more impulsive and restless soul. The shift between the two characters is also signaled by a transformation in the narrative perspective. Keyter’s engaged and hysterical first-person narration is substituted with a distant and cynical narrator: The Ambassador had on several occasions in the past made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that the Minister should rely more on his diplomatic advisers and less on his emotions. (Brink 1985, 82) What becomes obvious here is the fundamental difference in how the two relate to the Master of diplomacy. Contrary to Keyter’s constant questioning, Van Heerden seems to be under no illusions about this Master. Instead, he is fully aware that his Master is impotent, but this cynical attitude does not seem to have any negative impact on his ability to perform his duties: The Ambassador showed no outward signs of either irritation or stress. He did all his work systematically, gave audience to all his visitors, calmed the nervousness of some and the belligerence of others. (Brink 1985, 82) Once gathered together, the differences registered in the text show the movement from Keyter to the Ambassador – that is, the shift in narrative perspective, the explicit denial of a Master, and the effectiveness with which Ambassador

134   Diplomacy as ultra-politics Van Heerden executes his function – offering a different form of intersubjective relationship and, subsequently, another form of discourse. As a diplomat, Ambassador Van Heerden does not seem to be affected in any way by his tasks. Rather, he embodies the hidden machinery of diplomacy but without being fully integrated within it. In other words: what the successful shift from the Master’s to the University discourse entails is the move from explicit domination to a domination that remains hidden, wherein neutral knowledge occupies the ­position of the agent extracting value from the work of objet a. Instead of a sovereign Master we get an incessant bureaucrat as agent, tirelessly performing his repetitive work. In the position of agent, this bureaucratic rationality () functions as the realization of the discourse of the University and thereby provides this specific formation of relations with a performative interpellation: be the pure representative. The hailing of a subject, to use Althusser’s terminology, is no longer, as within the classic discourse of the Master, performed by an explicit Master (the subject is no longer slave of or subject to some feudal lord) but by a hidden Master identical to the speaker himself. The Master no longer explicitly introduces the subject into the chain of signifiers, but rather forces the subject to take it upon itself to express its Master’s desire. A perfect example of how this discourse works is when the Ambassador organizes a meeting with the French Minister of Foreign Affairs, the goal of which is to secure France’s aid in the UN, making it possible for South Africa to hinder other African nations from intervening in the ongoing mining strikes: [T]he Ambassador offered, in his inimitable way, an exposé both clear in outline and crisp in detail of the delicate situation in his country within the context of Government policy, of race relations, of history and motives and goals. At the end of the interview there was no perceptible hint of any positive result. Except a thin smile round the Minister’s mouth and a cryptic goodbye […]. But this in itself suggested a possibility of success, and the Ambassador knew exactly how to react to such nuances. (Brink 1985, 198) The Ambassador provides the Minister with a seemingly objective account of the ongoing riots, but hidden beneath this exposé is nevertheless the implicit goal of a concealed Master: to secure the aid of France as a step in safeguarding the Apartheid system. This is a main characteristic of the University discourse. The truth of its apparent disinterested or neutral perspective is the necessary ­performative act of the hidden  inaugurating, but no longer mastering, the discourse. In other words: there can be no objective account of the situation without the Master first creating the diplomatic space in which it can appear. An interesting point to notice here, further strengthening this understanding of the Ambassador’s intersubjective position, is the Minister’s faint smile and cryptic goodbye. The difference between the Ambassador and Keyter here becomes obvious: instead of Keyter’s hysteric questioning of every possible ambiguity, the Ambassador has no difficulty in subjecting even the slightest hint of a smile or

Diplomacy and the nuclear threat   135 an unusual way to phrase a goodbye to the  of diplomacy. The signifying chain allows the Ambassador, the self-effacing manipulator of this knowledge, to incorporate anything into the diplomatic system, forcing it to undergo signification in order to turn its work into value (the smile tells him that he has succeeded in his task). Therefore, in its bureaucratic form, diplomacy seems no longer to simply represent the will, voice, and body of a Master, but rather to explicitly formulate or reformulate it, for not even the Master himself seems to know what he wants. In other words, the diplomat’s task seems to be to extract value from faint smiles and curious goodbyes, making it possible to deliver j­ouissance to the Master. The transformations we can trace from within the pages of The Ambassador, taking us from Keyter to Van Heerden, that is, from hysteria to the discourse of the University, are also detectable in the post-war writings on diplomacy in the field of International Relations. The field was to a large degree established as an attempt to confront the dominant Idealist approach with its own inherent impossibilities, explicitly formulated as problems of diplomacy. Under the neglectful eyes of the Idealists, diplomatic practices had been mistreated or even misunderstood. As a consequence, the new , that is, new diplomatic knowledge, which arose through hysterical questioning, was formulated under the signifier of diplomacy. An illustrative example of this tendency can be found in Hans J. Morgenthau’s Politics Among Nations in which he dedicates the final part to the topic of diplomacy. Here, Morgenthau briefly recapitulates his critique of the Idealist understanding of the diplomatic solution to the problem of war, before presenting his own solution, establishing peace on the presupposition of a “balance of power” rather than by legal means: We have seen that international peace cannot be preserved through the l­imitation of national sovereignty, and we found the reasons for this failure in the very nature of the relations among nations. […] This method of establishing the preconditions for permanent peace we call peace through accommodation. Its instrument is diplomacy. (1948, 419) The Idealists are accused of making easy recourse to the position of the beautiful soul, whereupon the obvious rectification for diplomacy lies in confronting the world as it is: nation-states in a system of relations of mutual recognition. The repetition of the theme of diplomacy (first as problem, then as solution), can be found in many of the major post-war works on international relations. However, this is no longer the archi-political diplomacy of pure negotiation, fueled by man’s intrinsic yearning for a situation of general co-existence, but rather a much more cynical and strategic practice. As Raymond Aron puts it: Diplomacy without means of economic or political pressure, without symbolic or clandestine violence, would be pure persuasion. Perhaps it does not exist. Perhaps “pure” diplomacy still suggests, however implicitly, that it

136   Diplomacy as ultra-politics would be in a position to intimidate if it resolved to do so. At least pure diplomacy makes every effort to convince both adversary and onlookers that it desires to persuade or convince, not to constrain. The adversary must have the illusion of freedom, even when he is in fact yielding to force. (2003, 61) Diplomacy can here be situated at the core of the Realist’s turn away from perpetual peace toward an image of the balance of states. In the hands of Realism, diplomacy is provided with a theory that renders it compatible with the ontology of states. As is also illustrated by Aron’s definition, diplomacy is seen as one of many instruments of power, together with for instance armed forces or economic wealth, all of which make up the available means by which the state can both influence and control other states, in attempting either to maintain or to overthrow a given balance of power. At the same time, the task of the diplomat within such an understanding of international relations, consists of reflecting or representing the will and the power of their Master from whom the force or ­persuasive power of diplomatic speech emanates. Aron’s support of the Clausewitzian formula that war is only another political instrument, “a carrying out of the same by other means,” clearly illustrates the break with archi-political ­diplomacy, in which war and diplomacy appeared as antithetical terms, recasting them instead as two tools among others available to the state in furthering its own agenda. So, on the one hand, the Master must state his desire from a position outside the law, a full desire not based on the current symbolic network, or as Morgenthau puts it, negotiations have to be “started by each side with maximum demands” (1948, 553). But this desire must also, on the other hand, “be defended and reimposed by force” (Wight 1966, 103). Here the conservative nature of the traditional diplomatic theory reveals itself most clearly, since this solution to the diplomatic crises is not a return to old diplomacy as a specific set of values or laws on which international society ought to be based, but rather a return to “the act as such, independently of its content” (Žižek 1999, 20). The alternatives to diplomacy, without a space for this act of the sovereign, are, according to Watson, peace without freedom, exemplified by the Roman and Chinese empires, or freedom without peace, as a self-regulating anarchic chaos (1982, 20–25). While archi-political diplomacy denied that there even existed a conflict within the state, ultra-political diplomacy works to affirm the existence of conflict, but to isolate it at the inter-state level. As is the case with Ambassador Van Heerden, the Classical Realist conception of diplomacy seems to be the name for the labor of  on a, or in other words, the application of knowledge on the work of the jouissance of the states, striving toward a full mastery of this surplus-enjoyment. It needs to know all desires and capabilities of the international actors in order to take full advantage of every situation. Conflict, in this sense, is isolated to the nation-state level, unavoidable since no greater authority exists to contain the inevitable clash of wills and desires. The difference between Keyter’s hysteric perversion and van Heerden’s cynical discourse of the University therefore lies in how they relate to jouissance: the

Diplomacy and the nuclear threat   137 subject in the former is always confronted with jouissance as an original loss or waste resulting from the inherent split overthrowing the position of Master (captured for instance in Keyter’s problematic relationship with women) to which the subject reacts either by constructing a fantasy or through hysterical questioning. And although also a subject caught in the University discourse might be plagued by hysteria, such as the medical subject confronting the physician as if he or she were a real Master capable of producing an unambiguous diagnosis, this question does not, as in the Master’s discourse, arise in relation to jouissance. In the discourse of the University jouissance instead occupies the place of the other. In other words, the constant moving of jouissance is turned into an object for consumption produced for the market. What remains hidden is the inaugurating and performative act of the Master, as well as the remainder in the form of a split subject. We must, of course, tread lightly since this is not simply the subject as it is constituted by institutionalized power, but precisely that contradiction that escapes the system. In contrast to the Hysteric confronted with the question of the desire of the other (the objet a), the discourse of the University thus produces an alienated subject, the free-floating and every-changing multiplicity of identities hailed in modern society. As the remainder of the process of production (that which drops out of the impossible relationship between  and a), this phenomenon constitutes the alienation from work that Marx had already described in his Paris manuscripts. This same alienation also constantly plagues the work of Ambassador Van Heerden: It was all remote, transformed into language, codes, officialese. Everything had to be accepted in good faith, taken for granted; his whole life depended on some magic if: the assumption of a Government, a Head Office in Pretoria, thousands of kilometres away. As if he were some toy operated by remote control. […] what was it all about? (Brink 1985, 139) This, however, is not an example of a Hysteric wanting to know what he is for the Master. Rather, it is augmented through a feeling of estrangement, appearing in the insurmountable distance that separates an individual from the representative work with which he is tasked. The only possibility for the Ambassador to battle this feeling of purposelessness and futility seems to be through giving way to the material processes of the signifying chain, of working meticulously and passionately to derive a sense of being indispensable. So, on the one hand, the Ambassador knows very well that this Master is impotent, as “[h]e wasn’t thinking about his country as he sat there working,” and yet, on the other hand, he nevertheless acts as if he believes in the potency of the Master, since “[e]ach word that took shape in black letters on the white paper under his hand was a small creative act against meaninglessness”(Brink 1985, 83). Thus, it is only in working for this Master that a semblance of meaning is guaranteed. In other words, although he positively affirms the Master’s inexistence, this fact cannot achieve its proper effects, instead taking on the fetishistic logic of disavowal,

138   Diplomacy as ultra-politics thereby allowing the subject to deal with the alienation that arises from the split subjectivity as remainder. As we have seen, the goal of the fantasy of the Master’s discourse is to account for his failure without making the utopia ­ impossible, something which is often achieved by locating the failure in the foreign intruder. In other words, the fantasy is necessary to explain how the relationship between the split subject and the desired object should be organized and why full satisfaction appears impossible. In the same way, the latent relationship – undergirding the explicit relationship of knowledge and jouissance – in the University discourse must account for the failure of knowledge () to completely include jouissance (a) in its chain of signifiers. This is achieved by offering an explanation of how the relationship between Master and barred subject should be organized and why it is failing. For Van Heerden, this duality – fantasy in the form of symbolic fiction and as spectral apparition – is however no longer a split at the level of explicit speech (saying more than what he intended), but rather it is in the gap between material practice and official doctrine. Here, we find the heart of Žižek’s analysis of ideology in late modernity. In the material practices, the subject supposed to believe must return as a ghost haunting the official cynical doctrine in which belief is explicitly renounced. The falsity of the ideological discourse is accepted, but still not renounced. On the one hand we have the Ambassador’s self-awareness regarding the falsity of his position: there is no perfect diplomatic Master able to express a coherent desire for him to follow. But it is not a simple case of the Ambassador choosing to ­formulate this desire and then following it. Rather, when sitting by his desk writing, he treats it as if it had real existence, as if he was simply fulfilling his duties, following the orders and needs of his Master. What we have is thus a split between what Van Heerden knows and what he nonetheless believes in through the practices and tasks he performs. This split between knowledge and belief is further expressed when the ambassador himself compares the diplomat with the religious fanatic: The system itself operated and existed only to the extent in which it was remote, invisible. It was present only in its absence – like God, he thought, in the mind of a good Christian who might commit the most atrocious acts in the pious conviction that it [sic] was sanctioned by a Being whose existence was, per definition, unprovable. (Brink 1985, 139) The Ambassador’s mistake is, of course, that he gives priority to the unprov­ able belief rather than to the system (knowledge). The problem is, as Žižek often points out, not an external split between knowledge and belief but rather the internal split of knowledge itself within the University discourse, explicitly claiming to be neutral (on the level of the enunciated ) while at the same time always serving a certain Master (on the latent level of the enunciation and truth). Belief thus only appears as a secondary effect in order to fill in the gap of knowledge, allowing for the emergence of a fetishism. What this makes possible is a

Diplomacy and the nuclear threat   139 relationship between the hidden Master and the remainder, the split subject (I know very well that God’s thoughts remain inaccessible for me, he moves in mysterious ways etc., but nevertheless I believe that God wants me to commit these horrendous acts). However, the very fact that this fantasy arises as an answer to the fundamental split within  is also the reason why the subject can avoid the position of fanatic follower and instead opt for the position of “enlightened false consciousness.” This position, chosen by Van Heerden, is simply the obverse of the fanatic, and thus together they help to constitute two sides of a Möbius strip. The reason for this is that the subject of the University discourse seemingly can choose with which side of the split in  it wants to identify. Does it, like the fanatic, identify with the content of the enunciation, attaching itself to the explicit message of the law? Or, alternatively, like the cynical subject of Van Heerden, does it choose to identify with the content of the enunciated, explicitly accepting the gaps in the Other, while at the same time upholding the discourse through belief? The problem of the gap inherent to knowledge in the University discourse is something that returns, not only in Classical Realism but also in its English counterpart. Despite their differences, the greatest similarity between the ­Realists and the English School was their fondness for what, since the French Revolution, had been known pejoratively as old diplomacy. Hence, like Classical Realists, the return to diplomacy discussed by the English School scholars was often explicitly understood as a return to old diplomacy, assumed to remain active in the background of seemingly new or radically altered international institutions. In this sense, both these strands of IR-theory shared a certain conservative tendency, claiming that the true forms of diplomacy were to be found in the eighteenth century. On the topic of understanding the successes of UN diplomacy, Herbert Butterfield for instance points out that “the remarkable thing about the UN may be the way in which so much of what might be called ‘old diplomacy’ underlies its proceedings or decides the grouping of votes” (1966, 191). But, when confronted with the catastrophes of the two World Wars, why did scholars of International Relations prefer a return to a diplomacy of old? To understand this, it is important to place these ideas within the logic of the University discourse. The object on which diplomacy was supposed to act was the difference between national desires and interests, which upholds the gulf separating them from each other. Diplomacy therefore serves as the answer to a perceived call for the mediation of their relationship in order to uphold a balance of power. Hence, diplomatic knowledge embodied in the diplomat () is meant to work in the “real interest of the states” (a), so as to secure peace. But just as is the case with Van Heerden’s feeling of alienation, diplomacy in the guise of the University discourse requires a fantasmatic regulation of the latent relationship between the Master and the subject, that is, between its hidden truth and its product, the effect of the inherent split in . As we saw with Van Heerden, this showed itself in his perverted relationship with his Master, knowing very well that the Master is impotent but nevertheless acting as if that were not so. By explicitly choosing the unintended message of

140   Diplomacy as ultra-politics the Master (that the latter is impotent), the Ambassador could imagine a functioning relationship between his own alienated experience and the Department, thereby allowing for the work of diplomatic knowledge to continue unabated. In IR-theory’s return to old diplomacy, we encounter the opposite: a fanatic who believes in the explicit letter of diplomacy as a practice able to negotiate the clearly defined desire of nations. In praise of old diplomacy, Harold Nicolson writes: The French system [old diplomacy] possessed the great merit of creating a centralised authority for the formation of foreign policy and a professional service of experts through whom that policy could be carried out. The misfortune of the American system [new diplomacy] is that no foreigner, and few Americans, can be quite positive at any given moment who it is who possesses the first word and who the last […]. (1954, 92–93) As we saw, archi-political diplomacy was characterized by the denial of the Master’s lawgiving act accomplished by Kant’s fantasy, protecting it from the Urszene of the revolution. In line with Žižek’s definition of the form of conservatism specific to modernity, an ultra-political diplomacy can be defined by its call for a return to an explicit – rather than, as in liberalism, a repressed – Master. In other words, owing to the fact that the language of diplomacy hinges on the actual power of the state to which the speaking diplomat belongs, the false neutrality of liberalism was supposed to be counteracted by a return to explicit mastery and division. Thus, modern conservatism appears as the desire for a return from the University to the Master’s discourse. Here, one should further claim that although the Classical Realist idea of a “balance of power” is, even on an explicit level, a return to traditional Mastery, the English School, despite its focus on a “society of nations,” also presents a conservative solution. The problem facing the English School scholars was how to consolidate the idea of an international community of states with the obvious non-societal or anarchic aspects that nonetheless seem to plague this community (e.g., the fact that states are not actors that are supposed to have a clearly defined, individual desire, etc.). This problem takes on perhaps its most explicit form in Hedley Bull’s critique of Kantian Idealism, focusing precisely on diplomacy’s issues with the people. While claiming that the English School finds itself between Machiavellian Realism and Kantian Idealism, the main problem with the latter, as well as the advantage of the former, is according to Bull that “sovereigns or states are the principal reality in international politics; the immediate members of international society are states rather than individual human beings” (2007, 25). Bull here highlights how diplomacy cannot be based upon the Kantian “community of mankind,” but only on the will of the sovereign, who is bound not only by “rules of prudence or expediency” but also by the “imperatives of morality and law” (2007, 25). Analogous to how an individual must give his assent to the

Diplomacy and the nuclear threat   141 societal contract that binds together the rights and obligations of the governing and the governed, according to the idea of the society of states, the nation, when claiming sovereignty, must accept both the rules of law and the laws of morality. In order to function as one of the instruments to secure and protect peace through rational consideration, solidarity, and a focus on the common good, diplomacy needs to be based on the singular will (and power) of the nation-state. The difference is that for someone like Bull, this claim to sovereignty implies (in a very Kantian way) a moral imperative to turn this claim into a universal law. So, when Herbert Butterfield, who attempted to explain the failure of the utopianism in diplomacy after the First World War by dismissing it as an attempt to pander to the masses, and Bull, who blames any historical decline of diplomacy on “periods of low consensus in the international society” (2007, 168), critique new diplomacy, they do so in an attempt to reintroduce the Master as the ­inaugurator of diplomacy. As Martin Wight puts it, “not only must each claim independence of any political superior for itself, but each must recognize the validity of the same claim by all the others” (1977, 23). Adam Watson expresses a similar idea when he writes that “the purpose of diplomacy was initially, and still is, to reconcile the assertion of political will by independent entities with what Edmund Burke called ‘the empire of circumstances’ around them” (1982, 2). It is, in other words, the will of the sovereign that offers the basis for diplomacy, not the people. The problem of the lack of consensus or a pandering to the everchanging will of the people is the sovereign’s problem as the sole agent able to assume the moral consequences of proclaiming sovereignty. What modern conservatism thus entails is the attempt to regain mastery over that impossible remainder always produced by the University discourse, namely the alienation that it brings to the subject. But, regardless of whether the return to mastery is performed cynically (as is the case with Van Heerden) or naively (as with IR-theory), the problem stubbornly returns us to the objet a. It is also here that we find an answer to the question of why the dialectics between University and hysteria are not the final end of diplomacy: the new a brought about with the end of the University discourse can, following Žižek, be understood as just another twist in the capitalist discourse, inaugurating its specific version of the discourse of the Analyst.

The limits of diplomacy At one point in The Ambassador, Van Heerden’s fantasmatic support is torn asunder by the intrusion of Nicolette, who comes knocking at his office door on a stormy autumnal night. At first, he treats her as simply a minor nuisance, an incongruous presence in his important world. But when he finds out that her boyfriend, who had supposedly kicked her out of his apartment is his own Third Secretary, the Ambassador rethinks his offer of paying for her taxi-ride home, opting instead to drive her himself. As soon as they get into the car, something about the young girl captures his interest: “There was something about her which touched almost forgotten memories in him” (Brink 1985, 86). Still, long

142   Diplomacy as ultra-politics after he leaves her on her doorstep, she remains in his thoughts as he searches for the origin of this uncanny feeling of familiarity. Nicolette thus carries with her something about the Ambassador that he cannot decipher, a message or a desire which he is not able to incorporate into his system of knowledge. What, in other words, he hits upon is a stumbling block in his role as a representative. As soon as this faint echo disturbs his fantasmatic support, his reaction reveals the ties he has to the University discourse: Van Heerden immediately attempts to subject the girl to a meaning, interpreting her “unconscious gesture, a little curl at the corner of her mouth, something indeterminable” (Brink 1985, 86). However, this “something indeterminable” that awakens his interest is also the very thing that keeps him from entirely incorporating her into his system of knowledge, from providing the final diagnosis. Not even when he remembers an old girlfriend, Gillian, making himself believe that something in Nicolette might have reminded him of her, can he completely rid himself of a sense of uncertainty, since “now that he’d found it, he couldn’t understand what resemblance there was between her and this night’s stranger” (Brink 1985, 91). Nicolette’s intrusion therefore signals a shift in the discourse of the Ambassador, not however because he is interested in her; rather the failure to interpret her, extracting value from her in the guise of an objet a, tells him something significant about himself (that is, the relationship between a and  on the upper level of the Analyst’s discourse). In other words, she is the agent, confronting the ambassador with the lack in himself. At their second meeting, Nicolette arrives at his office to ask for money. Initially he refuses her, but very quickly he folds and hands her 100 Francs. Her desire, the fact that he cannot know what he is to her, confronts him also with his own failures as an ambassador: “Hopefully, he thought wryly, the Government would never instruct him to enter into negotiations with Miss Nicolette Alford” (Brink 1985, 105). By taking on the function of objet a, Nicolette confronts the Ambassador with the void in his ambassadorial subjectivity, making him realize that there is a limit to his role as a representative. In forcing him out of his position from within the cynical discourse of the University she incites the Ambassador’s curiosity about her desire, the defining feature of the Analyst’s discourse. She is, in other words, confronting him in his role as a split subject, as , forcing him to encounter his own void. The Ambassador gets increasingly troubled by the anxiety Nicolette incites in him, and he keeps trying to find excuses to see her. He wants her, but tries to refrain from making their relationship physical, attempting to retain a certain innocence. This is also why he does not even consider that Keyter, seemingly by chance finding him in a café close to her apartment, might know something about their secret rendez-vous. The arrival of the letter from the Department in Pretoria therefore comes as a shock to the Ambassador, not only since he thought he kept his meetings with Nicolette a secret but also because he had reassured himself about the appropriateness of their relationship. Nevertheless, the letter’s return also sparks the return of the troubles of alienation that their meetings seemed to keep at bay. But now, the prospect of laying eyes on the young girl again presents itself as the only possible way out of this alienation:

Diplomacy and the nuclear threat   143 But tonight’s agony was more subtle, worse than ever before: the discovery that one can be satisfied with a life like his – the acquiescence in a pattern, the acceptance of a system, the resignation to a predestined existence. In reality he had long ago ceased to be, not only for himself, but for his Minister, his ­Government, his country. […] But what could he do about it? Reject the system? – he had nothing else! It was very late. He had to go back to Nicolette. (Brink 1985, 140–141) It is as a consequence of the letter’s arrival that the reason for Nicolette’s intrusion into his life finally becomes clear and further explains the sense of urgency that drives him to look for her: she was there to free him from the antagonizing alienation that haunted his ambassadorial life. Only by taking possession of her can he displace his own intersubjective position. This is another reason why Nicolette can be understood as forcing the Ambassador into the Analyst’s discourse, taking on the function of an objet a that finally confronts him with his own desire. And just like the Analyst she must at the right time disappear from the scene in order to illustrate that the objet a covers but a void. Hence, when the letter arrives from the Department with news of Keyter’s report, Nicolette can be said to take on the function of a vanishing mediator, showing to the Ambassador that the place of the objet a really is empty. What this means is that when leaving his office to look for her, she is nowhere to be found. But Van Heerden seems incapable of accepting this since, driven by an even stronger agony, he continues his search even more frantically. What is illustrated here is the fact that, as Žižek explains, the discourse of the Analyst can take two forms, depending on the function of objet a. It can appear either as an object of fascination or as pure void. This is, as he puts it, the difference between perversion and subjective destitution (Žižek 2012, 67). As we can see, Van Heerden does not, as he puts it, reject his system, rather the super-ego injunction that comes with it (to keep on doing whatever he is doing and provide the Department with enough evidence to bring Keyter home) offers him a new way into perversion, attaching him to the law through obscene enjoyment. In the perverted version of the discourse of the Analyst, the link between the objet a and the barred subject remain stuck in a phase in which the a takes on the role as the fascinating element, obliterating the  and allowing the subject to instead fully identify with the object-cause of desire (a). In one sense the Ambassador, when confronted with the letter, seems to realize not only that the position of the Master is empty, but also that his life has been caught up in a fetishized ideology. He is aware that he simply acts as if there were a Master, without actually believing it to be so, and that, moreover, were it not for the fact of this fiction he is all too aware that the current system would fall in upon itself. However, when he asks himself what to do with this knowledge, he chooses to accept the superego injunction by going back to enjoying the young girl. What is happening, in other words, is that Van Heerden, while constantly denouncing the explicit law (that is to say, asserting how his Master is impotent), still tries to force a law into being by repeating its disavowed underside and turning himself into the object

144   Diplomacy as ultra-politics of the Other, identifying himself with the object of jouissance. In this sense, ­jouissance is enjoyment that goes against life and that endures beyond the pleasure principle: it drives the subject to continue, to repeat even the most counterproductive behavior, since the subject finds pleasure in pain and since the pervert, through the transgression, confronts the Master with a call to reinstate the law. Thus, the Ambassador now chooses the path he so perfectly described with regards to a religious extremist. His new God, the one who permits everything, is simply the superego underside of his diplomatic Law – the injunction that Keyter found so unbearable. As Žižek often notes, the problem with reading perversion as a subversive political strategy – meaning that the subject of perversion through action undermines the present system and opens up other possible ways of being – is that it overlooks the important functioning of the law of the super-ego in the logic of the pervert. This is precisely what we see in the letter which contains, besides the Minister’s openly stated demand to Van Heerden urging him to write an explanation, an implicit sub-text, urging him to keep on enjoying as soon as the formal protocol has been followed allowing for the Department to remove the Third Secretary (Brink 1985, 132). The problem in the eyes of the Department is thus not the accusation directed against the Ambassador in the report, nor is the Department interested in what the Ambassador’s comment on the situation will be (or, for that matter, what really happened). The Ambassador is instead urged to enjoy whatever he enjoys, without any restrictions, so long as he keeps up appearances with respect to the diplomatic law of the Department. Hence, it is because of the letter that the Ambassador thinks he knows what he is to the Other’s desire, once again perverting his fantasy. The most obvious illustration of this is how the narrator’s point of view changes again as the Ambassador leaves Nicolette after their first night (when he forced himself on her) and retires to his office. From the distant, all-knowing, narrator the novel returns to the engaged first-person perspective. The focus is still on the Ambassador, but no longer as a political agent; now it is rather as a subject fascinated with his fetishistic object, obsessing over every single detail of the young woman. Everything from the way she talks and acts to the scent of her shampoo or how she examines her nails is scrutinized by his watchful gaze. He is overcome with feelings of jealousy, ecstasy, and panic as she takes him through every aspect of Parisian life: from bars and museums to restaurants, parks, night clubs, and cathedrals. But, most importantly for the Ambassador, he now feels as if he has obtained the little piece of (her) freedom that he previously found so provocative: Was it really necessary to spend a brief night with a girl in an uncomfortable little bed in order to come to this? But the how and why were scarcely relevant. What mattered was the simple fact. And how elementary it really was! Her sort of life had always been there, undetected, on the periphery of my own. The only difference was that, now, I had discovered it, I’d become aware of that disturbing freedom surrounding the predictability of my own routine. (Brink 1985, 169)

Diplomacy and the nuclear threat   145 The Ambassador now believes he has given way to freedom and that, through being with Nicolette, he might retain a part of an authentic life outside the narrow and strict routine of the Embassy, noting how not even his colleagues at the Embassy seem to mind his newfound love. The Ambassador was even surprised by this, especially the fact that neither Keyter nor his own wife and daughter, now having returned from Italy, seem affected by the events. Nothing, as he concludes, has really changed. But in one sense the Ambassador does indeed notice a change. By enjoying this other life, a life outside the Embassy, his former life seems even more devoid of meaning. But still he must handle the affairs and represent the country that he belongs to, even though they no longer form part of his world. We should here note two aspects concerning jouissance: primarily that it functions through repetition and as such it always produces a failure, and second that it is linked to the surplus constructed in every attempt to link the inner and the outer world, in other words, the Symbolic and the Real. And just as Keyter is plagued by his repeated failure with women, the Ambassador continuously repeats his search for Nicolette as soon as his symbolic universe threatens to ­collapse. The failure of his repetition is not just connected to the impossibility of ever reproducing the symbolic position which he experienced that first night he spent in her bed, but to the fullness of the law itself. In other words: what is impossible (or what the failure stands for) is pure repetition; even the first instance is tainted by an incompleteness. When struck by nervous doubt about who he is for the Other, Van Heerden is destined to end the night in her little apartment attempting to repeat their first night together. What he reaches for, what appears as the inner or true self capable of escaping ideology, is nothing but the kernel upholding the whole system. This is why it is of such importance for Van Heerden to keep this: he is ready to lose everything for it, his wife and daughter (both moving back to South Africa), his job (he thinks that he might still be fired if the Department finds out), if only he can keep his little piece of freedom. But to do this, he needs to provoke his Master to uphold the law, precisely by breaking it. Therefore, the repetition in Van Heerden’s life signals the return of the discourse of the University, which is why he is always able to return to work, even when his protégé commits suicide and his young lover ­disappears without a trace. If a new Master was considered the answer to the problem of the people, in other words, a fantasy relating the impossible relationship between the Master and the split subject, IR-scholars were almost instantly confronted with a new threat, no longer just undermining the possibility of successful diplomacy but rather haunting the very existence of an international politics: nuclear weapons. But how are we to understand this threat? One interpretation could be that this is a return to a hysterical discourse, since Political Scientists now confronted nation-states with the problem of how to deal with a technological invention that might end the world as we know it, thus illustrating how the split subject and the chain of knowledge, within diplomacy, are caught in an infinite dialectic between the positions of “agent” and “product.” We would, in other words, be

146   Diplomacy as ultra-politics moving from the issue of the split subject as leftover product (the problem of the impossible unity of the people in the University discourse) to the problem of ­scientific logic (the knowledge produced by constant hysterical questioning). However, the threat of nuclear weapons does not, at least not principally, appear as a question posed to the Master. Although this development has, “in its very capacity to end diplomacy, displayed a power to transform it” (Der Derian 1987, 205), the system as such remains. In other words, the system of balance of power remains unaltered at its core, instead finding itself caught in the superego’s call to enjoy excessively, materialized in this ultimate tool of the balance of power, threatening enough to ensure that the nation-state that possesses it always has the upper hand. Thus, diplomacy is no longer dying because the people’s call for openness and democracy is incommensurable with the ways in which diplomatic practice supposedly needs to be enacted, but rather because this fascinating object fills in the void that sustained the need for diplomatic discourse. The threat, in other words, is against diplomacy as knowledge. In the era of ­so-called techno-diplomacy, there is no need to consider the desire of the other so as to reach a diplomatic solution since the nuclear threat can ensure that only the strongest will is obeyed: In the pre-nuclear age, nations with certain interests in common would try to defend and promote these interests by coordinating or pooling their diplomatic and military resources. […] The availability of nuclear weapons has radically transformed these traditional relations among allies and the risks attending them. (Morgenthau 1964, 33) So, the invention and subsequent use of nuclear weapons seems to have transformed the situation in such a way that diplomacy is, if not impossible then at the very least to be managed with extreme delicacy. Thus, a sort of jouissance appears connected to the nuclear threat, since it is simultaneously the ultimate weapon of the balance of power while also posing an existential threat to the subjects themselves and not to the sovereign. This is because it confronts a split within ultra-political diplomacy: on the one hand, “[d]iplomacy is a game in which the players sometimes risk losing their lives, sometimes prefer[ring] victory itself to the advantages that would result from it” (Aron 2003, 91), meaning it furthers the interest of the nation-state at any cost while also, on the other hand, taking for granted that every actor is committed to, at most, upsetting the balance rather than completely knocking it over. For this very reason the nuclear bomb appears as a super-ego injunction to fully enjoy the ultimate weapon, even if it would mean the loss of a balance, meaning that the subject is simultaneously forced beyond the limit only to look for a Master capable of enforcing it. So, as a fascinating object, the image of the nuclear weapon confronts the idea of a balance of power with its own inherent impossibility, meaning that if nation-states did in actuality simply pursue their own desire, that would bring

Diplomacy and the nuclear threat   147 the end, not only of diplomacy but of the entire world as we know it. Hidden here is thus the impossibility of the chain of signifiers: this point can be illustrated by way of Adam Watson’s depiction of the impossibility of diplomacy under the conditions of an imminent nuclear threat. He claims that in pre-nuclear times, focusing solely on defense and not cooperation was possible – at a price – especially for those whose territory lay away from the mainstream of world affairs. But in a nuclear age such an arrangement, or lack of arrangement, is hardly practicable at all. Apart from the problem of defense, the citizens of a state in isolation, without diplomatic contacts, would have difficulty organizing either trade or those exchanges of men and ideas which develop civilization. (Watson 1982, 22–23) We can thus see how the structure from Van Heerden’s relationship with Nicolette repeats itself, fetishizing an object and repeating that which only seems to break down the law, in an attempt to get the sovereign () to reinstate it, so that a solution to the threat against diplomatic knowledge might be offered (). In order to maintain the “scientific-expert knowledge,” diplomacy must work even harder not to fall for the lure of using nuclear weapons as the only means of defense, and the super-ego injunction is therefore not a call to abandon diplomacy, but to instigate further frantic activity from the subject, returning once again through the wish for a new law. So, while the logic of the system demands this self-destructive jouissance, to protect oneself behind an ever-growing arsenal of bombs (that is, following the law of ), the very fascination with the bomb must be read as a call for a new law from the Master (), showing that he is capable of hindering the catastrophe of a nuclear war. In this fetishization of nuclear weapons, the possibility of putting an end to the entire system of states, the a takes on the functioning of an object whose fascinating presence renders the subject blind to the radical inconsistency of the symbolic order, a stand-in for (a place-holder of) the missing ultimate signifier which would guarantee the consistency and authority of the symbolic order (the “big Other”). (Žižek 2007, 154) The theme of nuclear weapons threatening to end diplomacy as such is prevalent in most of the traditional writings on diplomacy and it is also referred to as one of the main reasons behind diplomacy’s declining role in international relations. The idea is that the invention of the nuclear bomb radicalized the power struggle, illustrating “that diplomacy has a potential historical end, and that (among other lesser functions) it is failing to mediate our estrangement from a nearly infinite yet entirely real power of man’s own making” (Der Derian 1987, 199). This perverse fascination with the end of the world is thus not only the final defense against the failure of the Other. It is just as much the injunction

148   Diplomacy as ultra-politics to keep on searching for a solution, repeating the same gesture over and over, as is the case with Van Heerden in his search for the young Nicolette.

Conclusion After examining Brink’s novel and the evolution of the study of diplomacy within International Relations during the inter- and post-war periods, the aim is now to expand on what these examples tell us about the possible demise of diplomacy and its connection to the ultra-political form. Is it true that diplomacy dies under the pressure of the Master’s impossible desire and that the only possible savior is the introduction of a new object-of-desire, forcing diplomacy into an endless circle of approaching, but never reaching, this object? The death of the diplomatic subject mirrors the first death of diplomacy as archi-politics. The impossibility of the desire expressed in Kant’s fundamental fantasy – wherein the republic, as long as it is guided by the desire of its people, should always strive for peace – is what in the last instance forces Keyter to commit suicide. In other words, he is incapable of dealing with the impossibility of being a pure representative and cannot establish the cynical distance that Van Heerden exhibits. His Master was initially unable to provide him with a law, but, after the Department’s letter arrived, Keyter was forced to realize that it was his incapacity to fully enjoy the perverted logic of the embassy that posed the real problem for his diplomatic Master. Keyter’s death here coincides with the potential death of diplomacy proclaimed by IR-scholars, but not because of an external threat (technology, the people, that woman), but because of an internal impossibility. Once again it is the fundamental Kantian fantasy in its function as a symbolic fiction that fails, forcing fantasy to transform itself into a sort of spectral apparition that has the ability to account for the failure by assigning it to a disturbing other. For Keyter, this other, the symptom, was embodied in the woman, while in IR-theory this position is ascribed to the people. Furthermore, the issue with a diplomacy following parliamentary procedure seemed precisely to be its publicity, the introduction of diplomacy into the field of democracy and thus to the will of the people. Hence, what confronted diplomacy in its archi-political form was the ever-growing accumulation of symptoms confronting it with the antagonism hidden below its denial: the people could never become this force for good as Kant imagined, since a part of this people will always return to haunt its will, namely the rabble. To avoid the horrifying void, post-war IR-theory, as well as the figure of ambassador Van Heerden, show how the logic of disavowal can enter as a defense against a denial which no longer fills its function, thereby suppressing or making impossible the horrifying effects of its failure. Thus, the people appeared, not as a negation of an impossibility of the unity of society, but as a positive entity disturbing the functioning of diplomacy. As such, the denial defining archi-political diplomacy had to be abandoned together with its narration of origins, the harmonious source of political unity. Unlike the Kantian myth, in which individuals once decided to come together and form a state, giving up a piece of their own

Diplomacy and the nuclear threat   149 freedom in exchange for a more secure life, the founding myth of ultra-political diplomacy takes the act of the Master as its starting point. Claiming that since humans are naturally social beings – that is, we always-already belong to a community, tribe, society – we are also, by necessity, interactional beings. But, although our natural life is as part of the group (the family, the tribe etc.), this group will be forced to interact with other families, tribes or peoples. Initially, as these groups of humans are still stuck in a sort of natural state, their interactions are assumed to be predominantly violent and the only way out of this destructive circle is a Master inaugurating the first diplomatic encounter. Thus, unlike Kant, this cessation of violence is not simply a rational act wherein a number of societies come together in order to establish a normative law accepted and followed by all. Instead, this encounter is based on a radical act, when a Master possesses not only the bravery but also the power and security to make the potentially dangerous decision to speak with rather than to kill their neighbor. Instead of outstretching the peaceful relations that are perceived as the basis for the state to incorporate all states (the archi-political solution), a Master is assumed to be needed to intervene through this violent initial act, effectively ending the ongoing spiral of violence and reshaping the entire structure of the symbolic universe. Hence, there is no dream of an original peace between groups. Rather, any specific peace is the effect of the will of one or several sovereigns bringing about a law – the very event that not only Keyter and Van Heerden, but also scholars from both Classical Realism and the English School, fantasized about. Diplomacy, in other words, becomes the externalization of the internal antagonism within the people, the force of the rabble, into an opposition between peoples. Against the standard explanation popular in contemporary Diplomacy Studies, namely that the shortcomings of both Realism and the English School with respect to diplomacy are to be found in their respective theoretical approaches (their more or less avowed progressivism or their fixation with the nation-state), we should thus point to the functioning of diplomacy itself. The problem of the people for diplomacy does not appear because the nation-state is taken to be the basic unit or actor in the diplomatic field. On the contrary, the people and public opinion only play the role of fetishistic object, the thing which covers over internal antagonism, allowing it to be explicitly accepted under the positive name of the people at the same time as it is isolated in order to focus on the conflict between states. Neither is it a question of how diplomacy is defined that leads to its death. The circle of the birth and the demise of diplomacy, beginning almost as early as the eve of the French Revolution and continuing to this day, must rather be located in the pairing of perversion with repetition. We see now not only why Van Heerden always returns to work even when faced with catastrophes, but also why the impending death of diplomacy is repeated ad infinitum: only through it can a perverse structure reproduce itself, once again repeating its acceptance of the immanent antagonism but isolating it through externalization. Diplomacy becomes one of the names for this act of externalization, so as to avoid the true effects of the impossible archi-political dream. Thus, the popular idea of a “balance of power” within IR-theory – meaning that states

150   Diplomacy as ultra-politics are assumed to find themselves in a constant dialectical transformation stuck between “the shadow of past battles” and “the fear or the expectation of future ones” (Aron 2003, 151) – simply fuels a militarization of the political sphere, recasting an original political antagonism into an opposition between rival states. We can thus see how Žižek’s description of the difference between liberalism and modern conservatism as an opposition between “legal normative formalism” and “decisionist formalism” perfectly captures the move from archipolitical to ultra-political diplomacy (1999, 19). Accepting the fact that no traditional set of norms can bring peoples together in an everlasting peace, the sought-after return to old diplomacy is not a return to the actual values and authorities of the absolute monarchy, but a return to the Master as the agent of the initiating act. Diplomacy here provides the space for this foundational act (to approach the enemy in order to converse rather than to kill). The democratic society, with its call for openness and formal equality, is the intrusion of public opinion and democratic legislatures into the sphere of foreign policy, [it] is the political activisation of previously inert masses of people in most of the countries of the world, making the public justification or rationalization of foreign policy mandatory for all governments, to both domestic and international audiences. (Bull 2007, 169) But as such, “new diplomacy” does not allow the space for a Master, simply by his or her own act, to reorganize the current situation in order to make peace possible. The only way for a democratic system to choose to parley rather than to kill is if this act passes through the logic of the , but this move simultaneously castrates it. Only the diplomacy of old might allow for the Master to act in secrecy, beyond the prying eyes of democracy; for, after all, a perpetual peace is an end that outweighs any means.

Bibliography Aron, Raymond. 2003. Peace and War: A Theory of International Relations. Translated by Daniel J. Mahoney. New Brunswick, NJ: Transaction Publ. Brink, André P. 1985. The Ambassador. London: Faber and Faber. Bull, Hedley. 2007. The Anarchical Society: A Study of Order in World Politics. 3rd ed. Basingstoke: Palgrave. Butterfield, Herbert. 1966. “The New Diplomatic History and Historical Diplomacy.” In Diplomatic Investigations, edited by Herbert Butterfield and Martin Wight, 181–192. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press. Der Derian, James. 1987. On Diplomacy: A Genealogy of Western Estrangement. Oxford: Blackwell. Morgenthau, Hans J. 1948. Politics among Nations: The Struggle for Power and Peace. New York, NY: Alfred A. Knopf. Morgenthau, Hans J. 1964. “The Four Paradoxes of Nuclear Strategy.” American Political Science Review 58 (01): 23–35. https://doi.org/10.2307/1952752.

Diplomacy and the nuclear threat   151 Nicolson, Harold. 1954. The Evolution of Diplomatic Method: Being the Chichele Lectures Delivered at the University of Oxford in November 1953. London: Constable & Co. Watson, Adam. 1982. Diplomacy: The Dialogue between States. London: Eyre Methuen. Wight, Martin. 1966. “Western Values in International Relations.” In Diplomatic Investigations, edited by Herbert Butterfield and Martin Wight, 89–131. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press. Wight, Martin. 1977. Systems of States. Edited by Hedley Bull. Leicester: Leicester University Press. Žižek, Slavoj. 1999. “Carl Schmitt in the Age of Post-Politics.” In The Challenge of Carl Schmitt, edited by Chantal Mouffe, 18–37. London: Verso. Žižek, Slavoj. 2007. The Indivisible Remainder: On Schelling and Related Matters. London: Verso. Žižek, Slavoj. 2012. Less than Nothing: Hegel and the Shadow of Dialectical Materialism. London: Verso.

Part IV

Diplomacy as Post-Politics

8 Diplomacy for the next century

Diplomacy for the Next Century In his 1998 book Diplomacy for the Next Century, the Israeli diplomat and academic Abbā Eban argued that, formally speaking, the Cold War came to an end neither with the fall of the Berlin Wall nor with the collapse of the Soviet Union, but rather with the treaty between NATO and Russia, signed in Paris on May 27th, 1997 (1998, 25). In the final remarks of this summit, U.S. President Bill Clinton declared that the signing of the treaty should be seen as marking the end of the politics of the balance of power that the Cold War had entailed: I know that some still see NATO through the prism of the Cold War, and that especially in NATO’s decision to open its doors to Central Europe’s new democracy, they see a Europe still divided, only differently divided. But I ask them to look again. For this new NATO will work with Russia, not against it. And by reducing rivalry and fear, by strengthening peace and cooperation, by facing common threats to the security of all democracies, NATO will promote greater stability in all of Europe, including Russia. And in turn, that will increase the security of Europe’s North American partners, the United States and Canada, as well. (1997) Hence, for Clinton, the new era that was ushered in by the signing of the treaty was supposed to be defined by cooperation and peace, no longer haunted by the insurmountable divide between the major actors in international relations, but instead defined by a spirit of community, security, and prosperity. Though with a slightly more cynical touch, even Eban looked at the future of diplomacy with hope: The most promising feature of post-Cold War diplomacy is its restrained mood. There is little self-delusion. Problems of war and international rivalry may never be “solved,” but there is a prospect that the antagonisms may be kept in restraint. This may sound unattractively sober in comparison with the yearnings for world community that fill many of the noblest chapters of

156   Diplomacy as Post-Politics literature, but diplomats, scarred by experience, have no choice but to inhabit a middle emotional ground between excessive skepticism and exaggerated hope. (1998, 176) In contrast to Clinton’s idealism and the advent of a new period of sustained peace, Eban poses the cynical middle-ground of the diplomat: always able to solve a crisis or a potential outbreak of war, but never naïve enough to believe that conflicts can be completely eradicated from the global community of states. However, only a few years into the new millennium, the tone had once again changed. By March 2003, Clinton’s successor, George W. Bush Junior, stepped onto the podium in the White House just two days before the start of the U.S.led invasion of Iraq and gave his now infamous address to the nation. Bush here presented Iraqi President Saddam Hussein with an ultimatum: either disarm or be disarmed. My fellow citizens, events in Iraq have now reached the final days of decision. For more than a decade, the United States and other nations have pursued patient and honorable efforts to disarm the Iraqi regime without war. That regime pledged to reveal and destroy all its weapons of mass destruction as a condition for ending the Persian Gulf War in 1991. Since then, the world has engaged in 12 years of diplomacy. We have passed more than a dozen resolutions in the United Nations Security Council. We have sent hundreds of weapons inspectors to oversee the disarmament of Iraq. Our good faith has not been returned. The Iraqi regime has used diplomacy as a ploy to gain time and advantage. (2003) The so-called War on Terror, commencing just two years prior to the invasion of Iraq, seemed to have once again turned diplomacy into an impossible task. The new millennium had forced international politics into a situation where good faith and peaceful intentions had no place since, at least according to Bush, they were only met with deceit and manipulation. Bush’s speech thus marked in the field of diplomacy the definite end of what Žižek has called “the Clintonite happy nineties.” Bookended by the fall of the Berlin Wall and the fall of the Twin Towers, this era was guided by “the Fukuyama dream that liberal democracy had won, that the search was over, that the advent of a global, liberal world community was lurking just around the corner, that the obstacles to this ultra-Hollywoodesque happy ending were merely empirical and contingent (local pockets of resistance where the leaders had not yet grasped that their time was over)” (Žižek 2008a, 423–424). The same pattern has seemingly repeated itself over the span of the last two U.S. presidents. First, Barack Obama was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 2009 with the following rationale:

Diplomacy for the next century   157 The Norwegian Nobel Committee has decided that the Nobel Peace Prize for 2009 is to be awarded to President Barack Obama for his extraordinary efforts to strengthen international diplomacy and cooperation between peoples. The Committee has attached special importance to Obama’s vision of and work for a world without nuclear weapons. (The Nobel Prize Committee n.d.) This nomination was made hot on the heels of a number of overtures that the then Presidential Candidate made to the effect of making “diplomacy a top priority,” a message of change that was also echoed within Diplomacy Studies. But just like the hopes of Clinton, the new “climate” that Obama’s presidency ­supposedly had introduced in world diplomacy was short lived; the diplomatic policies of his successor Donald Trump have been called such things as “gangster-like” and “a wrecking-ball,” prompting the return of the popular thesis of the “end of diplomacy.” In an editorial, British historian Nicholas J. Cull, for instance, urged action in the months before Trump took office: Irrespective of political stripe or flag there is much to be done by academics and practitioners alike, engaging locally, nationally and internationally to promote our collective and mutual education, lay foundations of facts and helping [sic] to build strong places where our best selves can thrive. The practice and study of public diplomacy needs to be an important part of this process, and as citizens we should do what we can to ensure the health of our public diplomacy […]. The bottom line is, in 2017 as never before, public diplomacy matters. (2016, 246) Hence, it appears as if history repeats itself, perhaps first as tragedy (the Iraq War and the War on Terror), then as farce (the “anti-diplomacy” of Trump’s “America First”), giving sustenance to those who claim that diplomacy is dying. But almost as a sort of mirror-image of the isolationist threat from a growing number of nationalist-populist leaders around the world, diplomacy in the new millennium also found new hope in a more digitalized and thus globalized world, bringing people together rather than driving them apart. So, what does all this entail? If the French Revolution marked the beginning of diplomacy, of diplomacy in the form of archi-politics, while the three major global wars of the last century marked not only diplomacy’s first major crisis but also its re-birth as ultra-politics, the question that now needs to be posed is whether diplomacy in a post-Communist world is simply the last remnant of a system no longer needed? Or is the seemingly endless circle of death and rebirth a signal that diplomacy has entered yet another new phase? Beginning with the prevalent claim that during the last 30 years diplomacy has been stuck in another cycle of death and rebirth, we might want to begin by considering what function such an assertion serves in and for a specific desire. More specifically, following Žižek’s claim that the post-Communist era is

158   Diplomacy as Post-Politics defined by “[t]he shift from political engagement to post-political Real” (2009, 58), we will here focus on diplomacy as post-politics, that is as the rejection (rather than denial or disavowal) of the founding political antagonism (i.e., the struggle between the state and its rabble). Because of this shift in negation, ­post-politics can no longer be understood through the perverted structure of supposedly accepting the brute facts (as in ultra-politics where things are “taken as they are”), nor through the neurotic structure of avoiding jouissance by denying its role. Rather, it is defined by the delusional belief that the entire world actually can come together as one, paired also with an overly suspicious fear of the unknown and its ever-threatening irrational eruptions of violence, which, as Žižek puts it, leads to the “new era of paranoid warfare in which the greatest task will be to identify the enemy and his weapons” (2012, 246). The main shift between archi- and ultra-political diplomacy, on the one hand, and post-political diplomacy, on the other, can be traced by moving from the symptom to the Real. This is not to say that in psychoanalytic theory the psychotic lacks symptoms, rather the move from symptom to Real represents a shift in perspective: the symptom (the lack, slip, joke, etc.) no longer appears within the field of meaning, either as meaningless (in neurosis) or as isolated and thus deprived of their effects (as is the case in perversion), but appears to come from the outside, from the Real. For the sake of clarification, we are not dealing with what, in Žižekian terms, we could call the Real-Real, the antagonism as such acting as the fundamental impossibility of a certain historical formation. Instead we are dealing with the horrors of the Real as they return in the symbolic, the violent and irrational enemy that keeps reappearing to haunt the law. Thus, the return of the Real is defined by a certain “ ‘irrational’ excessive character” that also defines the post-political formation (Žižek 2008b, 236). This situation arises from an entirely different relationship to the law: while previously the law was either too overpowering (archi-political diplomacy) or not powerful enough (ultra-political diplomacy), the No-of-the-Father, the negative instantiation of the law, is entirely missing in the psychotically structured post-political formation. This is owing to the fact that the post-political order is defined by what appears as a direct access to jouissance (nothing in its field may constitute an obstacle) and as such the law does not prohibit but only permits. Without the Master Signifier (the No-of-the-Father), there is no one law to hold together the field of signifiers. Rather, there are only temporary, what Lacan calls delusional, metaphors standing in for the missing law but unable to offer a stable world. What we get in the post-political is instead a frantic activity of trying to interpret (and thus include) everything that appears under this delusional sign in order to keep the excessive Real at bay. This is why, as Žižek claims, the post-political order constitutes “the paradigmatic case of a pseudo Event, of a spectacular turmoil destined to conceal the fact that, on the most fundamental level (that of relations of production), nothing really changes” (2008b, 238). What we encounter is, in other words, a threatening thing imposing itself (full of meaning) but since no law offers a stable interpretation, this thing only appears as a horrifying threat. To capture this return of the Real we will, in a fashion similar to the foregoing parts

Diplomacy for the next century   159 of this study, ask how the signifier diplomacy allows for this specific negation of the political. In order to do so we will approach the so-called objective and subjective sides of this concept. Despite the fact that during the middle of the last century, scholars of International Relations held diplomacy as an integral part of the practice of managing international relations, their actual work on diplomacy was limited, in terms of both its scope and its impact on the field of Political Science. For the most part, emphasis was placed on diplomacy as a practice of interstate interaction, that is, diplomacy was understood simply as a way of avoiding crises which, if it were to function in the most effective way, needed assistance from proper theory. The shift of focus within both Realism and the English School in the late seventies and early eighties could have meant the final end of diplomacy as a topic of study within IR-theory, but out of this situation arose a new form of diplomatic theory influenced by the fields of Intellectual History and Critical Theory in Anglo-Saxon Political Science, which opened the spaces for greater consideration to be given to the intellectual development of international institutions. This field, today known as Diplomacy Studies, will thus constitute the objective side of the last part of this text. As a consequence of the focus on Intellectual History, a majority of the most prominent scholars within the Anglo-Saxon field of Diplomacy Studies are considered as related to the English School in one way or another. However, this focus on the historical development of diplomacy has also moved this strand closer to both French and German Political Science and to the aforementioned New Diplomatic History. Important in this respect is the general shift away from positivist approaches and toward theoretical perspectives associated with continental philosophy, ranging from phenomenology, via post-Marxism, to Critical Theory. In the French context, the strong sociological approach that has characterized International Relations, and that ultimately goes back to the work of Raymond Aron, has taken a similar route when addressing questions of diplomacy, following contemporary debates in sociology. Hence, in contrast to the many threats that were leveled at the very existence of diplomacy, not only as an object of academic study but also as a way of practicing politics, the final years of the Cold War saw the beginnings of a second revival of the study of diplomacy in academia. This part of our study will thus focus on those questions and problems that are treated by the today well-established field of Diplomacy Studies. A specific issue to be considered here is Diplomacy Studies’ tendency to redefine and broaden the topic of diplomacy as well as its return to diplomacy’s potentially ontological status. Since its field is rapidly expanding today, it is difficult to define its boundaries: new aspects of diplomacy and diplomatic theory are constantly being added in order to complement the already existing canon. With this mind, we will focus on some of the scholars, texts, and journals that have had a central role in Diplomacy Studies during the last 30 years. More specifically, we will have reason to take a closer look at those works that adopt a more general approach to the theory of diplomacy and its role in our contemporary society, therefore treating many of its now large subfields, such as public diplomacy,

160   Diplomacy as Post-Politics economic diplomacy, sports diplomacy, and cultural diplomacy, as specific instances of the general practice of diplomacy rather than independent fields. In so doing, the key concepts and theoretical frameworks that guide the work of other scholars in Diplomacy Studies will be identified and critically analyzed. In following our already established method, the so-called objective treatment of Diplomacy Studies will be paired with its subjective counterpart. On this occasion, we will consider the protagonist in Danish filmmaker and journalist Mads Brügger’s The Ambassador. In this film, Brügger goes undercover as the fictive Danish businessman Mr. Cortzen, who is trying to acquire a Liberian diplomatic passport to partake in the illegal trade of blood diamonds in the Central African Republic (CAR). Although, perhaps understandably, scholars analysing Brügger’s film remain few and far between, the characterizations of the film are still diverse. While many have hailed its attempt to “document corruption in Liberia” some claim that it fails in making “good satire” by “victimizing already exploited groups of Pygmies and potential match-factory workers” (Vuori 2015, 190–191), while others have commented that the documentary is best “interpreted as readjusting the posing of empire and globalisation as contradictory explanations of the current conjuncture and as challenging the distribution of global capitalist inequality” (Reestorff 2013). Treated primarily from the perspective of film studies, The Ambassador is usually read within the framework of documentary film theory, often focusing on the advantages and drawbacks of its genre-breaking approach and how the chosen genre impacts on the general political message the film seeks to relay. In the context of our study, however, the film will be treated as a work of fiction, focusing on the central protagonist, Mr. Cortzen. The purpose here is to explore how the signifier of diplomacy makes possible Mr. Cortzen’s story as a subjective account of contemporary diplomacy. In adopting this vantage point, questions regarding the film’s truth claims, which have preoccupied much of the existing reception, have considerably less relevance. For our part, then, it is not so much a question of whether the film offers a correct depiction of the world (or if it, through Brügger’s intervention, creates a false universe), but rather of how the symptoms as horrors of the Real haunt the subject living under the delusional sign of diplomacy. The question that we will be posing is thus neither how we should understand the political message of The Ambassador, nor if it was delivered in an effective or ethical way but, more precisely, how the world that Brügger articulates is made possible, that is, how this world – itself an effect of the signifier of diplomacy – is structured. Similar to the first part of our study, which addressed diplomacy as archi-­ politics, Diplomacy Studies and Brügger’s The Ambassador seem to share a certain moral code, but, in contrast to Kant and James’ Strether, this morality tale exhibits a critical edge: both appear critical of the existing system, hoping to bring about something new. However, when reading the texts through the prism of post-politics, we are soon made aware that irrespective of this critical activity, things remain the same. Thus, under a delusional signifier, this moral call is haunted by paranoia. It is precisely this sense of paranoia that will be central in

Diplomacy for the next century   161 this section. In light of that, the questions guiding us will be as follows: how does the Real return? And why is it structured in the way that it is? We will begin by first giving a short introduction to the film and an overview of some central themes addressed in contemporary Diplomacy Studies. Thereafter, the three parts of the analysis will focus on the role of the law, the function of perversion, and finally the return in the Real. In a world of ambassadors and terrorists: Mads Brügger and Diplomacy Studies As already noted when discussing transformations in the writing of the history of diplomacy, the Clintonite happy nineties was a time of renewed interest in the topic of diplomacy within Political Science all over the world. In the field of International Relations, this decade saw the birth and institutionalization of what today is known as Diplomacy Studies, including, among other things, the creation of the field’s three major academic journals and also an explosion in the range of publications aimed at constituting the field by defining and collecting central texts and pointing out important themes, questions, and problems. However, as the narrative often goes, this situation would not have been possible without the publication of James Der Derian’s On Diplomacy in 1987. During a recent forum dedicated to the book, Halvard Leira described its “mythical nimbus” in the IR-debate of the 1990s: [T]he book seemed almost incomprehensibly ahead of its time. While we were struggling simply to find room to think and graduate outside of the mainstream, On Diplomacy had already been in the field for more than a decade. Furthermore, while many of the seminal “critical” texts were articles or collections of articles, Der Derian had produced a full-fledged monograph, fleshing out a sustained argument over hundreds of pages, and tying together concerns of classical IR theorising […] with newer social theories. (2017, 69) The construction of a new research paradigm, Diplomacy Studies, thus took place in the broader context of what is sometimes referred to as the Third Great Debate of International Relations, in which critical IR – usually developing its theoretical base in conversation with different strands of what is broadly construed as continental or postmodern philosophy (ranging from the Frankfurt School, via Foucault, to Baudrillard) – confronted the established perspectives of, among others, Realism and the English School. For Diplomacy Studies, the critique formulated by critical IR would provide the foundation for an attempt to re-establish the study of diplomacy which had for some time been in decline within both Political Science and Historical Studies. Against the prevalent theme of diplomacy’s death, many IR-scholars who renewed their interest in diplomacy around the time of the new millennium took this claim as a starting point,

162   Diplomacy as Post-Politics trying to formulate a new understanding of diplomacy that would make the practice relevant for the twenty-first century. As we have seen, scholars adopting more traditional perspectives assumed that, due to different technological advances (ranging, for instance, from the telegraph, via the telephone, to the internet), the threat posed against diplomacy – more specifically, against its role of facilitating inter-state interaction was now paired with a situation in which its telos, a peacefully ordered society of nation-states, seemed to be unreachable. Against this idea of diplomacy’s diminishing importance connected to the waning power of states, many scholars of Diplomacy Studies attempted to formulate a new understanding of diplomacy which would escape the old deadlocks and impasses. Several members of this new strand of Political Science believed that the reason behind the assumed demise of diplomacy could be found in the way in which the practice had traditionally been theoretically understood. Andrew F. Cooper described the problems of the traditional approach, as well as what was needed for a renewed understanding of the importance of diplomacy in a post-Soviet landscape, in the following way: What is striking about the traditional defence of diplomatic authority and raison d’être is the narrowness of its argument. Rather than a dynamic approach to the study of diplomacy, with a solid grasp of the changing context in which contemporary diplomacy must be located and a keen appreciation of the evolution in the role that professional diplomats play, the image is presented as a static one. Diplomats and diplomatic activity remain associated with a rigid state-centric international system. Such a perspective plays into the hands of those forces which view diplomacy and diplomats as increasingly removed from the real problems – and solutions – facing the world in the post-cold war years. (1997, 173) Hence, the existential threat against diplomacy is not to be found in diplomacy itself; it is rather an effect of the state-centric view that had defined International Relations since its inception, making it possible to claim that what remains of the ambassador “is nothing but an honorary title, a residual symbol of a profession on the road toward disappearance” (Kessler 2012, 11). Thus, the debate about the decline of diplomacy turns on contending images of how the world works – or should work – and what images most accurately convey its character. Do we live in a world of sovereign states; is the state under threat from the twin processes of internal and external erosion, the product of the dialectic between localization on the one hand and globalization on the other? Diplomacy becomes subsumed within this broader debate. (Hocking 1997, 169) Diplomacy Studies was, as such, very much formed around the conviction that in order to save diplomacy as an object worthy of academic attention it was

Diplomacy for the next century   163 deemed necessary to completely change the entire approach. However, the ­deterioration of the nation-state was not the only reason why diplomacy was allegedly dying. Instead, some political scientists claimed that diplomatic practice itself should be held accountable for its demise, since it supposedly suffered from an inert resistance to theory. Hence, not only was diplomacy dying because its importance was connected to the lost glory of the nation-state, but the practice itself – everything from its secretive nature, its enigmatic codes of conduct and communication up to the ambiguity of the word diplomacy – made formulating a theoretical understanding of its functioning at the very least an immense challenge. Endeavoring to disprove these ideas, scholars of Diplomacy Studies, starting with Der Derian, today champion an understanding of diplomacy where it is assumed to play a more general and considerably more fundamental role in human societies. Using the new theoretical influences introduced in International Relations by the Third Great Debate made it possible to formulate an ontological need for diplomacy, allowing for a theoretical understanding of diplomacy that no longer hinged on the nation-state and the accompanying anarchic field of international relations. Instead, diplomacy is understood to be relevant because it supposedly addresses a fundamentally human trait, thereby freeing diplomacy theory from the narrow confines of the state and statecraft. Hence, from this perspective, the fact that the problem of diplomacy already seemed to haunt Thucydides should not be interpreted as linking together the political coincidences of fifth century  bce and those of the twentieth century (e.g., lack of an overarching authority, weak state formations), but rather must be read as pointing to an eternal problem inherent to human societies and to the human condition as such. In relation to this, Diplomacy Studies also reiterated the already existing ­distinction “between ‘old diplomacy’ – bilateral, secret and resident – and ‘new diplomacy’ – multilateral, public and itinerant” (Devin and Toernquist-Chesnier 2010, 60). However, in opposition to their forerunners in both Realism and the English School, this repetition was no longer based on a dream of a return to old diplomacy through the act of a potent Master, but rather on the hope for the potency of a new diplomacy that presents the only possible solution to the ­problems in the era of globalization. In this new geo-political and economic landscape, diplomacy was not supposed to secure peace by balancing the powers of nation-states in an anarchic field of international relations, but rather to aid in the stabilization of a new situation defined as open, non-hierarchical and fluid, in which a profusion of new actors, such as multinational companies and NGOs, previously excluded, were now recognized as integral parts of the diplomatic sphere and in which new technological developments once again had transformed the possibilities of negotiation and communication. To achieve this ­stabilizing effect, it is often highlighted that diplomacy must adapt to the new global situation and therefore turn its attention to international policies and regulations, as well as focusing its efforts on distributing power and mediating between different kinds of actors in different environments. This transformation is supposedly owed to the fact that the field is no longer exclusively organized

164   Diplomacy as Post-Politics around the unquestioned sovereignties of the nation-states as they are played out against each other on the floor of some diplomatic congress. In such a situation, it is claimed, diplomacy can no longer fix its sights solely on questions of security and peace, it also has a duty to confront problems and conflicts in the fields of trade and commerce, and in technological and societal development, as well as in deepening and broadening processes of globalization in every aspect of life, from economics to human rights. Thus, in the twenty-first century, diplomacy cannot solely be inter-static. The ambassador enters into contact with a plethora of different actors from outside of the politic-administrative sphere, both in bilateral and multilateral diplomacy, which sometimes includes interest groups, enterprises, NGOs, universities, the media or churches. As Guillaume Devin writes, the question is less to oppose a state-centric world (states and international organizations) with a multi-centric world (that of non-state actors and the transnational phenomena described by James Rosenau) and more to direct research towards examining and interpreting the way in which they interact. (Kessler 2012, 15) Although states are not, as Kessler here points out, made entirely superfluous in the globalized world, the new field of Diplomacy Studies must still be formulated as an answer to the failures of the state-centric approach associated with their forerunners in International Relations. The same topics, the (waning) power of the state and the appearance of new kinds of diplomatic players, is also central in journalist Mads Brügger’s 2011 film The Ambassador. The Dane gained some notoriety for his 2009 documentary The Red Chapel in which, under the pretext of being the director of a Dutch communist experimental theatre troupe, he visited North Korea with his ensemble to tour the country. Joining him were two Korean-born Danish comedians, and their endeavors on the tour were used to satirically comment on the regime and its attempts to use the group as a weapon of propaganda. The Ambassador, a similarly styled film, defined by Brügger in the documentary’s synopsis as a “genre-breaking, tragic comedy about the bizarre world of African diplomacy.” Sometimes characterized as a work of gonzo journalism, the film lets us follow Brügger as he buys a diplomatic position as a representative of Liberia to the Central African Republic. Shot either with Brügger’s hidden cameras, or in secret by his press officer’s single-lens reflex digital camera, we are invited to follow Brügger’s close encounters with corrupt politicians, shady businessmen, blood diamonds, and the immense violence that plagues the failed state that is the CAR. His stated goal is to gain access to the closed world of diplomacy, primarily to expose moral corruption, but also to show the ongoing neo-colonial exploitation of Africa. After its premiere in the U.S. in 2012, Brügger claimed that as a direct consequence of the film being made, eight other business diplomats had been exposed by the Liberian government. Other investigations have also shown that over 2500 Liberian diplomatic passports were sold in the 90s,

Diplomacy for the next century   165 many to people with criminal records. However, the president of Liberia, Ellen Johnson Sirleaf, has also called for Brügger’s arrest and extradition. The Dutch diplomatic title broker who helped Brügger to obtain his diplomatic credentials also tried to prevent the screening of the film. To understand these scandals, let us begin with a short summary of the film. After a strict warning from Colin Evans, former British Royal Marine Commando turned business diplomat and diplomatic title broker, telling Brügger that if he does not follow Evans’ recommendations the Dane will end up “dead in a ditch in Africa,” Brügger – as he awaits his flight to Africa dressed in flamboyant colonial attire – describes his mission: What awaits me is a life where I can operate freely, beyond all moral boundaries known to man, while still being a respectable member of society. What I am talking about is, of course, a life as an African diplomat. (Brügger 2011) Since the Evans brothers were unable to provide him with the requested diplomatic title – because, according to Brügger, the oldest brother already had shady business dealings in the CAR and thus wanted to avoid competition – Mr. Cortzen instead chooses to work together with another figure in this “bizarre unchartered netherworld,” a Dutch broker named Willem Tijssen. For 135 000 U.S. dollars, money that Brügger informs us will go toward bribing Liberian public officials, Tijssen promises to provide Mr. Cortzen with a diplomatic passport and diplomatic credentials as well as a Liberian driver’s license and an MBA from Monrovia University. Not only dressed in proper colonial attire from the seventies – riding boots and a white suit – and constantly smoking cigars or cigarettes through an ivory holder, but also sporting a matching racist attitude, Brügger describes his new country as “a magnet on white men with hidden agendas,” meaning that “if Congo is the heart of darkness, this is the appendix” (2011). Both Mr. Cortzen’s outlandish style and the claims that he seeks to establish a match factory to benefit the country (and in which he promises to employ members of the local Pigmy tribes) immediately get him new friends, all secretly videotaped as they arrive in his office. Among them is the Head of State Security of the CAR, Guy-Jean Le Foll Yamandé, a former French citizen and member of the French Légion étrangère who had his French citizenship revoked after being convicted of mercenary activities. Yamandé converses with the new ambassador about his understanding of the French perspective on its former colonial state and, perhaps more importantly, its natural riches: “France always considered CAR as its savings bank.” Another one of ambassador Cortzen’s newly acquired friends, the Indian consul Pankaj “Paul” G. Tewani, “also mixing business and diplomacy in bewildering ways,” acts as a confidant and helpful guide to setting up business in the CAR. Just like all the other supportive characters – including the Italian consul – Paul is deeply involved in the illegal trade and shady business of the country.

166   Diplomacy as Post-Politics Besides being invited by several high-ranking officials to speak about his planned match factory (concerning which Ambassador Cortzen gladly prepares “envelopes of happiness”), Mr. Cortzen also initiates a partnership with a shady mine owner, Monsieur Gilbert. However, this collaboration faces problems since the official contract of the Department of Mines in the CAR includes a clause making Mr. Cortzen responsible for paying Monsieur Gilbert’s expenses indefinitely. At the same time, Willem Tijssen’s difficulties in providing Mr. Cortzen with proper credentials (for instance, the passport he receives does not follow protocol) increase the worries of the new Liberian consul, especially since his “business,” that is bribing public officials, not only takes him closer to the President, but also results in him being more carefully watched by all the “players” in the capital, Bangui. His worries increase even further after he is told by the Head of State Security that a recent rebellion in the north, close to Monsieur Gilbert’s diamond mines, was, if not initiated, at the very least facilitated by the French since the ground around the northern city of Birao hides oil reserves. Despite the heightened volatility of the situation, Mr. Cortzen joins Monsieur Gilbert on a short trip to his mines where, after a nervous bush pilot brings them to a temporary airfield, they are driven through the thickets in a convoy protected by what look like soldiers but, as Brügger points out in his voice-over, could equally be rebels. In the mines, entire families work with their hands and shovels to dig up diamonds, guarded by even more men with automatic weapons. Here, Monsieur Gilbert promises Mr. Cortzen that they will find the biggest diamonds in the entire CAR, on the condition that the Dane invests in his enterprise. After visiting the mines and finally reaching an agreement with Monsieur Gilbert, solving the situation with the Department of Mines by signing a specially drawn up contract, as well as by depositing fifteen million Central African Francs (around €30, 000 at the time), Mr. Cortzen’s business partner conveniently disappears. Instead, the ambassador’s own chargé d’affaires (a local “fixer” called Paul) shows up in order to make Mr. Cortzen sign the standard contract, claiming that the one they have already signed is considered highly illegal. Without even a copy of the illegal contract, ambassador Cortzen grows increasingly paranoid, worrying that the law firm, Monsieur Gilbert, and even his own chargé d’affaires Paul might be conspiring against him. At the same time, Mr. Cortzen is told that the Head of State Security Yamandé has been assassinated, probably by his own government. Ravaged with paranoia, the Ambassador decides to hide in his suite together with “the only two people left in Bangui that I could trust,” his two Pigmy assistants, loaned to him by a tribe living on the property of another local diplomatic “player,” the Minister of Civil Services. A few days later, Monsieur Gilbert returns to the embassy in the middle of the night, bringing with him eight diamonds and the promise of even more stones on the way. Thus, Mr. Cortzen is now in desperate need of getting all his diplomatic credentials in order, especially since Monsieur Gilbert seems increasingly reluctant to provide him with the appropriate documentation ­ regarding the stones. Instead, after having provided Mr. Cortzen with even more stones, Monsieur Gilbert and Paul suggest that the Ambassador simply hides the

Diplomacy for the next century   167 diamonds on his body as he exits the country. After Paul suggests that it might even be easier to let Maria, Mr. Cortzen’s assistant, carry the stones (making her lash out), Brügger, in a voice-over, provides some final notes. He tells us that Monsieur Gilbert was eventually elected as a Member of Parliament in the CAR, while Paul received some money to continue the work of establishing the planned match factory. We are also told that the assassinated Head of Security’s successor, yet another Frenchman, met with the same fate. Finally, we are shown how ambassador Cortzen is at last officially appointed as the Liberian consul to the CAR, celebrating first with the Minister of the Foreign Department in Monrovia, and later, back with all his friends and associates in the CAR. And what about the diamonds? Well, as Brügger tells us, “diamonds thrive on discretion and secrecy, so let’s leave it like that” (Brügger 2011). In interviews published after the film’s release, Brügger revealed that he sold the diamonds in the CAR and that he tried to use the money he received to start the planned match factory. He also pointed out that although most people figuring in the documentary are, with the exception of the Pygmies, involved in illegal or semi-illegal activities, they are all also people of power. As such, Brügger frequently highlights that his film may help to counteract the never-ending spiral of corruption and to shine a light on European neo-colonial practices, which only serve to add fuel to the fire (Brügger 2012).

Diplomacy, digitalization, and the people To begin mapping out the concept of post-politics, let us first return to Lacan’s reading of the Freudian concept Verwerfung in order to understand the form of the “forgetting of the political” that Žižek claims defines it (2008b, 236). During his nineteenth seminar, Lacan held a number of lectures in the chapel at SainteAnne Hospital, of which three were omitted from Jacques-Alain Miller’s publication and later published under the title Talking to Brick Walls. In the last of these lectures, which also gave its name to the entire volume, Lacan introduced a potential fifth discourse as an addition to the already existing four: the enigmatic so-called capitalist discourse. Here, Lacan began by pointing out that his theory of discourses included a certain historicity since, at a certain point in time, the Master’s discourse “turned into the discourse of the capitalist.” However, he added, we had lacked a proper understanding of the functioning of this new discourse until Marx completed its structure by naming its subject: the proletariat. Its defining feature, however, is Verwerfung, the rejection of castration, since “any discourse that aligns itself with capitalism, sweeps to one side what we may simply call, my fine friends, matters of love” (Lacan 2017, 90–91). As Žižek notes, Lacan was notoriously vague on the actual functioning of this discourse and at times some of his other statements regarding the social link of capitalism seem to contradict the claims made above. Nevertheless, the idea of a capitalist discourse defined by the act of rejection or foreclosure seems to ­perfectly capture the logic of diplomacy since the fall of state socialism. To understand how this might be so, we must, before reaching the topic of rejection,

168   Diplomacy as Post-Politics begin by redrawing the fundamental lines of the analysis, starting with the ­question of post-politics. As Žižek notes, the Freudian concept of Verwerfung acts as the unifying trait, bringing together what he, in a Rancièrian manner, calls post-politics and what Lacan calls the discourse of the capitalist. As such, the capitalist discourse, in Žižek’s reading, is not, as Lacan sometimes claims, a new formation of the social link, but a specific way in which the existing four discourses relate to one another. Following Žižek, both terms point to the tendency in global capitalism during the last 40 years of turning the field of politics over to managerialism and apolitical technocracy. This transformation, the increased bureaucratization and technocratization of politics, has not gone by unnoticed in Diplomacy Studies either. No clearer example can be found than in the following repeated claim that “[c]ontemporary diplomacy is an integral part of state bureaucracy” (Neumann 2013, 139). But it is not simply understood as a tool for bureaucracy, rather, following Der Derian’s redefinition of diplomacy as “mediation between estranged individuals, groups or entities” (1987, 6), it is understood as signifying a specific mode or form of governing which is becoming increasingly relevant in an international sphere where the nation-state is no longer the sole actor. In contemporary Diplomacy Studies, the diplomat is thus understood as a mediator, “combining divergent positions into a joint decision” (Zartman 2013, 106), making sure that each participant, regardless of status, follows the rules within a given negotiation. Jönsson and Hall, in their quest for the essence of diplomacy, thus “suggest that diplomacy plays a crucial role in mediating universalism and particularism, and that diplomacy thereby in a sense constitutes and produces international society” (2005, 37). It is not, however, that the concept of mediation is new to the understanding of diplomacy. Rather, it seems already to have emerged during the seventeenth century, together with the birth of the congress as a form of organizing diplomatic exchange. The difference, however, is that the need for diplomatic mediation in the Post-Soviet era is ontologized. No matter whether tied to the family, the tribe, the city, or the state, the formation of the group is understood as in constant need of mediation because of the traumatic intrusion of the other, i.e., those not part of a given social group: Diplomacy’s raison d’être is therefore established only when there are boundaries for identity and when those boundaries of identity are crossed. Diplomacy’s condition of possibility lies in identity/difference, but in the radical alterity of the other also lies diplomacy’s impossibility of mediating final identities. Diplomatic history offers many examples, and the post-1989 changes in Eastern Europe and the former Soviet Union provide a recent exemplification of this point. (Constantinou 1996, 113) What the post-political outlook offers is an understanding of politics that seems to follow the technological development taking place since the fall of the iron curtain. Thus, the digitalization and the popularization, assumed to

Diplomacy for the next century   169 have taken place from the nineties onwards, are understood as two aspects of the increased relevance of diplomacy in the twenty-first century. The proximity between the two developments is often highlighted, for instance by claiming that “[d]igital diplomacy has been built on recent diplomatic conceptual and empirical developments such as public diplomacy or soft power” (Sotiriu 2015, 34). In the rapidly changing world that is supposed to confront us today, wherein peoples, business and NGOs are just as important as the traditional representatives of nation-states, the role of diplomacy becomes to establish [a] multilateralism capable of including all state actors, of opening up to social actors and fairly regulating all the risks of instability [which] would optimally satisfy the need for order. This is exactly what can be found in acts of everyday governance corresponding to the most ordinary and common facts of everyday life as they are regulated by various international conventions […]. (Badie 2012, 191) Thus, Diplomacy Studies provides us with a world thought to persist in a “permanent state of negotiations” and diplomacy appears as one of the ways of managing change as it occurs more frequently, offering us a way to mediate between maintaining a status quo and simply letting this “new and revolutionary development in which top-down, state-centric processes of International Relations are increasingly replaced by a more networked, civil society-driven model of diplomacy” run wild (Clarke 2015, 111; Pouliot 2011, 550). What this ­illustrates is how the contemporary diplomat is understood more as an expert deciding how to act in order to reach the most preferable outcome, rather than as a servant of a state’s foreign policy. These changes, spearheaded by the digitalization of diplomacy “thus represent a conceptual shift in the practice of diplomacy, in which MFAs [Ministries of Foreign Affairs] adopt dialogic models of communication as opposed to monologic ones” (Kampf, Manor, and Segev 2015, 332). This post-political ideology, characterized by and through its attempt to completely eradicate the political antagonism from the field of the symbolic, is best encapsulated in the belief that a “collaboration of enlightened technocrats (economists, public opinion specialists  …) and liberal multiculturalists, via the process of negotiation of interests” is destined to reach a solution “in the guise of a more or less universal consensus” (Žižek 2008b, 236). Diplomacy is, in other words, humanity’s only chance of peaceful co-existence: “Diplomacy is still focused on living together in difference, but this life together – in its multilateral, networked forms – has become increasingly demanding for all of the parties involved” (Adler-Nissen 2015, 27). Diplomacy, namely its inescapable need for mediation, is the only universal law the subject must accept, namely its inescapable need for mediation. The most elaborate expression of diplomacy as post-politics, that is, as a “negotiation of interests” in order to allow for peaceful co-existence, is to be found in the recently developed concept

170   Diplomacy as Post-Politics of sustainable ­diplomacy. The introduction to an anthology bearing its name reads: We argue that diplomacy should not only be concerned with advocacy, policy implementation and public relations but also – and more crucially – with innovation and creativity, experimentation in finding ways and terms under which rival entities and ways of living can co-exist and flourish (including biodiversity and future generations). (Constantinou and Der Derian 2010, 2) What this, and similar, perspectives have in common is a few central assumptions regarding the contemporary situation of global politics. Initially, their own contemporaneity is defined by what appears as two contradictory but mutually reinforcing phenomena: on the one hand an increase in globalization, digitalization, and connection and, on the other, an acceleration of processes of fragmentation and pluralization. This transformation depends, according to scholars in Diplomacy Studies, on the fact that globalization also reduces the power of the nation-state, thus severely shrinking the potential size of a community able to uphold the stable identity assumed to be required in order to be represented by an actor in a diplomatic conversation. With communities that are at one and the same time more narrowly defined and more global, the argument is that a pluralization of traditional diplomatic institutions is required. This means that we today see an “expanding range of hyphenated diplomacies, for example publicdiplomacy, private-diplomacy, military-diplomacy, field-diplomacy, and citizen diplomacy” (Sharp 2009, 75), meaning that diplomatic knowledge is in constant need of development in order to cover the ever expanding number of sub-fields falling into its remit, all of which inevitably become interpreted through what could be referred to as the diplomatic world-view. So, diplomacy, as it is both understood and expressed by contemporary Diplomacy Studies, appears as the ultimate institution of post-politics – demanding increasing knowledge and expansion of the diplomatic field in order to incorporate a rapidly growing number of identities acting on the “global stage.” The diplomatic post-political injunction is that peace, in a world assumed to be defined by fragmentation, wherein local communitarian bonds become increasingly reasserted in a context of ever greater and more complex global interdependence, is only possible if the actors engaged in diplomatic negotiation accept the logic of sustainable diplomacy. But such an expression of the law (i.e., as a diplomat you must facilitate sustainability by formulating a universal consensus that does not violate local identity) cannot express itself without its super-ego underside, that is, the twisted encouragement not to mediate between estranged people in order to allow for differences to coexist peacefully, but to use the bureaucracy to manipulate the subjects of diplomacy into accepting a solution only beneficial to one of the involved parties. As Brügger himself has explicitly stated, one of the main goals of making his documentary film was to reveal how this manipulation of the law appears in the

Diplomacy for the next century   171 neo-colonial exploitation of Africa, enacted by the former colonial powers in Europe, and how it continues to function in and through diplomatic channels. From the outset, after his first tennis match with a fellow diplomat in Bangui, Mr. Cortzen is promptly warned by his colleague not to trust any of the other European diplomats since they are all reporting to the French consul, who in turn makes sure to protect the interests of France at any cost. Paul, the Indian consul and Mr. Cortzen’s tennis partner, leaves, imparting a word or two of advice to his new acquaintance: “The other African consuls are no problem, but be careful with the rest.” Perhaps the most detailed depiction of how diplomacy serves these, as Brügger calls them, “hidden agendas” is provided by another victim of his hidden camera: the Head of State Security Yamandé. When discussing Mr. Cortzen’s visit to the diamond mines in the north, Yamandé explains the French neo-colonial logic by giving the ambassador some information regarding a recent rebel attack on the country’s most northern city, Birao. He tells Mr. Cortzen that although France has daily surveillance flights over the area, the authorities of the CAR were not informed of the rebels’ whereabouts, even though such a large force, consisting of 27 vehicles traveling for three days through Sudan and the CAR, certainly would have caught the attention of the French. This is the “pebble in the shoe,” as Yamandé ironically summarizes the French habit of forcing the authorities of the CAR to run after rebels rather than to spend their resources on developing the country. The fact that these pebbles all are put in the shoes of the CAR through ordinary, established, diplomatic means supposedly illustrates how the CAR constitutes the silent underside of the global diplomatic world. Furthermore, this “uncharted netherworld” of diplomacy is not simply inhabited by shady diplomats from the European continent. As Yamandé also points out, the French did not exploit the CAR only through colonialism; they left behind a widespread culture of corruption, a tradition that to this day they help facilitate by, for instance, aiding corrupted officials to evade the law when it causes inconvenience. For Brügger, all these issues arise because the CAR supposedly exists “beyond all moral boundaries known to man,” meaning that that the country constitutes a safe haven for those who have little concern for ethical principles. And so it comes to pass that everyone Mr. Cortzen meets has dirty hands: from the Italian consul (buying gold from the shady Monsieur Gilbert and warning Mr. Cortzen not to touch the wives of his employees), via the Minister of Civil Services (eager to help Mr. Cortzen set up his match factory for one or two “envelopes of happiness”), to the jovial Willem Tijssen (happy to bribe everyone in the Liberian government to get Mr. Cortzen his diplomatic passport). What these shady figures share, according to Brügger, is a contempt for morality, which is why they ended up in the CAR in the first place. But what about Brügger himself? Does this voice of morality, eager to expose the unlawful activities going on in the CAR, also enjoy his experience or is he just acting the part? It is obvious to the onlooker that the character Mr. Cortzen at least seems to enjoy being a business diplomat, hosting lavish parties in his suite and bribing authorities. Even Brügger himself has admitted in interviews

172   Diplomacy as Post-Politics that playing this character had “its fun moments” (Brügger 2012). But does this not mean that, to a certain degree, he lacks the basic moral principles, just like all the other so-called players of the CAR? Aware of this problem, Brügger has described his own experience of playing Mr. Cortzen as schizophrenic; on the one hand he was fully aware of that fact that he was doing wrong while, on the other, he enjoyed it. The question we should ask ourselves here is whether this tension reflects an external split between Mr. Cortzen, the immoral character, and Mads Brügger, the moral journalist? Or is it rather the perfect example of the jouissance arising from the superego injunction to enjoy? Although haunted by his moral standards, Brügger cannot but experience a sort of “pleasure in pain.” At one point he describes how, when speeding along the dusty roads of Bangui in a big SUV, he experienced a weird sense of pleasure derived from struggling with himself. What, though, does this tell us? Primarily, that the superego underside of the law must be taken as proof that the CAR in no sense is a “netherworld” or a “forgotten place”; on the contrary, it undoubtedly plays its part in global diplomacy. Its supposedly lawless character is only possible in and through the existing law, just as Brügger’s struggles with his alter-ego are only made possible through the idea of himself as being a moral agent. This particular point is nicely demonstrated by Cortzen’s constant worries about the delays and hold-ups surrounding the papers certifying his status as a representative of Liberia and how everyone, regardless of how corrupt they are, still insists on following protocol. Despite the bribes paid by Willem Tijssen to ensure Mr. Cortzen’s nomination as the new consul to Bangui, Mr. Cortzen cannot receive the proper diplomatic credentials from Liberia since these documents, due to a legal technicality, have to be signed by the country’s president. These corrupt figures all seem to find a certain pleasure in following the law if it means denying Mr. Cortzen what he wants (such as Mr. Sherman, chairman of the ­governing Unity party and the man Tijssen had bribed, telling a desperate Mr. Cortzen not to “ask me to get you something that is normally not obtained”). The same logic shows itself when Mr. Cortzen tries to obtain the proper agreement from the Department of Mines in the CAR, which is necessary in order to take part in the diamond trade. Even though little if anything suggests that protocol needs to be followed – for example, the document issued by the Department appears to be part of a scam; diplomats, at least according to Brügger, are banned from trading with diamonds, and ambassador Cortzen himself claims that he nevertheless plans to smuggle the diamonds out of the country – all the parties involved, even the ambassador’s own chargé d’affairs, insist on doing things by the book. Perhaps the most perfect illustration of this is the obvious pleasure that the representative from the law office, appointed to assist Mr. Cortzen, exudes as he tells the ambassador that, because of the juridical process, he cannot be given his copy of the highly illegal mining contract. Together, these examples serve to underline how a certain enjoyment is derived precisely from appearing to follow the law while Cortzen’s paranoid doubt constantly searches for ulterior motives. How, though, are we supposed to understand the connection between the ­jouissance produced by the law’s underside and the post-political situation that

Diplomacy for the next century   173 defines contemporary diplomacy? Evidently, many similarities unite the diplomatic corps as portrayed in Brügger’s film and André Brink’s ambassador, Van Heerden. There is more besides; as already noted, the bureaucratization of diplomacy began during the nineteenth century. One might thus be tempted to claim that, far from entering the post-political hinterland, in actual fact we remain ensnared within the perverted logic of the ultra-political form of diplomacy. Thus, through blindly serving a Master it is possible for the diplomatic subject to live out their fantasies, believing that it is what the Master desires (thus allowing for the law to persist). The question to be asked now is whether or not it is precisely with respect to their positioning vis-à-vis the Master that contemporary scholars of Diplomacy Studies distinguish themselves from their forerunners in International Relations. Is it not also in this respect that Mr. Cortzen is different from Van Heerden? In post-political diplomacy, no Master seems to be acknowledged, and neither does that absence seem to return to haunt the established order. Thus, the thing separating post-political from ultra-political diplomacy is, in psychoanalytic terms, the Verwerfung.

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9 Diplomacy and terrorism in the digital age

Diplomacy and terrorism in the digital age Following Žižek, the main difference distinguishing a post-political ideological configuration from one that operates through repression or disavowal is that, in the case of the former, no symptom can return within its existing symbolic field. This is owing to the fact that the founding antagonism is rejected in toto and not just denied or disavowed. Thus, post-politics is defined by its lack of internal symptoms, allowing for the symbolic chain to run smoothly and to expand endlessly, as “a flow of absolute immanence in which its multiple effects proliferate, with no cuts of negativity/castration interrupting this flow” (Žižek 2017, 201). This does not, however, mean that nothing returns when a symbolic field is established on the basic act of rejection. Instead the return will take place on the level of the irrational Real. Before, however, we can reach this return in the Real, it is important to first establish what is rejected in post-political diplomacy. To do so, we will need to work out in further detail the Lacanian conception of rejection, on which Žižek grounds his own reading of post-politics. In a text on psychosis, the clinical structure associated with rejection, Lacan defines the basic functioning of Verwerfung in the following way: For psychosis to be triggered, the Name-of-the-Father – verworfen, foreclosed, that is, never having come to the place of the Other – must be summoned to that place in symbolic opposition to the subject. It is the lack of the Name-of-the-Father in that place which, by the hole that it opens up in the signified, sets off a cascade of reworkings of the signifier from which the growing disaster of the imaginary proceeds, until the level is reached at which signifier and signified stabilize in the delusional metaphor. (2006, 481) The Name-of-the-Father, “the lack of the signifier itself” (Lacan 2006, 465), should here be understood as a term designating a metaphor that serves as a substitute for an absence. We are, in other words, dealing with two lacks: the primary absence along with the metaphor that only denotes a lack, thus lacking any meaning. Being a lack that stands in for another lack, the Name-of-the-Father, or

176   Diplomacy as Post-Politics rather, the No-of-the-Father, is the sign of symbolic castration, that is it captures the fact that the One is never full in its meaning. It is only through the law or the No that it can appear as if the subject is prevented from achieving plenitude. Without this limit, the signifying chain characteristic of psychosis is allowed to expand indefinitely, lacking even an imagined point of reference to the world. As Lacan goes on to point out, other psychic structures, such as neurosis, are based on repressing or disavowing the impossibility of this original signifier, which in turn allows negativity to return and haunt the signifying field through the symptoms of the impossible unity between the primary and the secondary lack. In psychosis, on the other hand, this impossible unity under the Name-ofthe-Father is rejected, meaning that the fundamental antagonism cannot return in the symbolic field; there is nothing that breaks the expansion of the field of signifiers. There is, in other words, no No-of-the-Father and an antagonism between the prohibition and the object of this prohibition cannot appear in the field of the symbolic. This is why, on the one hand, the endless expansion of the symbolic can continue uninterrupted in post-political diplomacy (since nothing returns to disturb it) and on the other, why a delusional metaphor appears as the only way to temporary halt this expansion. Within contemporary Diplomacy Studies, such proliferation can be perfectly illustrated through two corresponding moves effected within the entire field today: (i) the ontologizing of diplomacy and (ii) the diplomatization of the world. We are here not dealing with two isolated movements – one exploring the possible ontological origins of our need for diplomacy while the other describes the growing number of tasks assigned to the embassy and the proliferation of agents active within the realm of foreign relations. On the contrary, these two claims are dialectically related and thus coconstitutive. Thus, the idea of diplomacy as entailing, on the one hand, the act of mediating between different identities and, on the other, the claim that an increasing number of fields are subsumed under the heading of diplomacy ­indicates a certain psychotic logic of diplomacy that arises from rejection. It now seems possible to include anything and everything within the ambit of diplomacy without any antagonism appearing to disturb the mediation of different actors. As Lacan repeatedly points out, although rejection excludes something from the symbolic order, one should not draw the conclusion that the psychotic subject resides outside of language, incapable of finding meaning within it. Rather, “the psychotic is inhabited, possessed, by language” (Lacan 1997, 250). But what could it mean that Diplomacy Studies might be possessed by language? On one level, this possession shows itself in moments of total surrender to its impossibilities. One blatantly obvious example of this logic can be found in Constantinou’s On the Way to Diplomacy. In presenting his hypothesis that diplomacy constitutes an act of translating the “scene of the other,” the other’s lifeworld, into something more familiar for the diplomat, he attempts the following illustration: Considering the following semiotic chora and the interpretative process that may be required to move from the strange object to the familiar one. Among

Diplomacy and terrorism in the digital age   177 other things, it includes: bilateral and multilateral negotiations, concerts, conferences, assemblies, international institutions, specialized agencies, and good offices; legations, delegations, embassies, nunciatures, […] coups d’état, coups de théâtre, coups d’éclat diplomatique, ambassadors extraordinary, ministers plenipotentiary, […] trial balloons, tossed-salad approaches, genteel obfuscations, constructive ambiguities, and creative inertias; pompous acronyms, Latin clichés, Frenchified vocabularies, Levantine anecdotes, and Mandarin stories. (Constantinou 1996, 117–118) What we are left with is in no sense an illustration or an explanation of this “interpretative process,” but simply a list of terms which in one way or another can be associated with diplomacy, some seemingly organized by a vague theme while others appear to be put together for purely poetic effect. Although Constantinou’s ramblings, producing a list that goes well beyond a page, exhibit the most obvious example of how the treatment of diplomacy seems possessed by the equivocity and the interchangeability of language; he is far from an isolated case. Another aspect of this structure is the tendency to equate language and diplomacy, making the former inhabit the latter to such a degree that they become inseparable. Iver Neumann for instance writes: “Diplomacy begins where specific myths give away to a language that avails itself of a grammar that the universal translator can make sense of” (2013, 104). The diplomat, “the universal translator,” is here equated with the rational, non-violent, functioning of the , of the symbolic chain or language itself, posed against myth, a fundamental form of alienation stemming from its supposed incomprehensibility to all foreign subjects. In other words, myth is understood as local and non-sensical, and thus it stands in opposition to language, sense, and diplomacy. What is accomplished here is the equation of diplomacy understood as “the only defense against war,” with the act of simply speaking and making sense to others. In other words: from this perspective, diplomacy is unavoidable since as soon as a subject’s speech makes sense not only to itself but also to another, this subject has already accepted diplomacy. Equating speaking and making sense under the heading of diplomacy also illustrates how diplomacy here functions as what Lacan calls a “delusional metaphor.” But what does this mean? If traditionally the signifier diplomacy acted as the stand in for the lack left by repression, that is, a metaphor that allowed for a specific field to emerge in order to cover over an antagonism, the more contemporary functioning of diplomacy as a delusional metaphor makes this pacifying effect impossible to achieve. In contrast to Kant, for whom the metaphor of diplomacy allowed for the object of jouissance to appear (specifically, the people in the guise of the French revolutionaries attempting to become politico-diplomatic subjects), jouissance is today connected to the structure of language itself. Instead of being bound up to the cuts and to the symptoms that return to disturb the functioning of the system (seen in Kant’s outburst against the revolutionaries), which offer a number of ways to try to avoid the symptom itself, jouissance is here linked to the proliferation of the

178   Diplomacy as Post-Politics system, offering no outside: as soon as you speak you are trapped in jouissance and thus in diplomacy. Against this “growing disaster of the imaginary,” the inability to establish a stable identity, the subject is offered a delusional metaphor (Lacan 2006, 481). While it was during the nineties that the “dissemination of diplomats” gained momentum, the general traction that the signifier of diplomacy now receives was only made possible in the first place because of its instability as a concept. No longer does the term diplomacy generate symptoms. In Sharp’s depiction of our situation, this becomes clear: If the insights of the diplomatic tradition can no longer be made effective by restoring the degree of insulation diplomats previously enjoyed, then the only, but not unattractive, alternative is to disseminate them more widely within societies. In fact, this may already be seen to be occurring. […] The debates about humanitarian military intervention provide a clear example in this regard. “How can we possibly do it” collides with “how can we possibly not?” If difficult issues like these and rogue state diplomacy are to be handled effectively, then the distance of the diplomats from the content of international relations or, at least, a sensitivity to that distance and the reasons for it, needs [sic] to be more widely disseminated. (2009, 220–221) What this paragraph has in common with a swathe of other contemporary definitions of diplomacy is a way of understanding diplomacy that makes it imitate a certain basic psychotic structure of language. The fact that the psychotic lacks a point of anchorage within language (due to rejection) need not imply that this anchoring point actually exists in normal language. Rather, the degree of autonomy that language as a structure has over things – the fact that signs are arbitrarily assigned to certain objects – means that there is no point within the realm of signification (i.e., a sign referring to an object) from which it is possible to start unraveling the entire semantic web of language. Instead, as Lacan puts it, “it’s the whole reality that is covered by the entire network of language” (1997, 32). The fact that we have two semi-autonomous structures is what creates a sense of excess and lack in both of them; both object and meaning can be experienced as both never enough and always-already too much. To be precise, under the delusional metaphor of diplomacy, both meaning and object are simultaneously deemed insufficient and overwhelming. On the one hand, the meaning of diplomacy is constantly enlarged, encompassing an everincreasing number of fields (e.g., sports diplomacy, celebrity diplomacy, public diplomacy can be named because diplomacy is no longer just mediation between states but between states and multinational companies, NGOs, and even between different groups of people). On the other hand, the object referred to as diplomacy seems on every occasion to evade the grasp of scholars attempting to define it, forcing them to find an endless stream of new, and increasingly wider or vaguer, definitions of this practice. This enlargement of the diplomatic sphere on both sides once again illustrates how the original antagonism is foreclosed,

Diplomacy and terrorism in the digital age   179 leading to a “psychotic globalization of jouissance in discourse” (Tomšič 2015, 156). In other words, the fact that for someone like James Der Derian, diplomacy can be at one and the same time any “mediation between estranged ­individuals, groups or entities” while also allegedly resistant to theory, and is thus incapable of being described in full, only illustrates the fact that this understanding of diplomacy mimics the psychotic aspect of the functioning of language itself, namely as an effect of the foreclosure it covers over. But how has this situation become possible? As already demonstrated, the imagined Master of archi-political and ultrapolitical diplomacy could be found in the state. This entity has not only come to replace the monarchs of old, it acts as the entity from which the diplomat receives their identity; the constitution of the state was of fundamental importance for Kant in establishing a perpetual peace, while a return to its former strength was the order of the day for political scientists seeking to revive ­diplomacy’s fortunes during the Cold War. But the state, as we have seen, no longer seems to hold the same prominent position in the diplomatic field today. Christer Jönsson, in another of the re-formulations of diplomacy, this time as global governance, defines the situation in the following terms: [G]lobal governance suggests a multi-layered rather than state-centric organisational universe. The interactions between formal institutions and global civil society as well as between public and private actors are at the core of global governance. The notion of global governance conjures up an image of a world “comprised of spheres of authority (SOAs) that are not necessarily consistent with the division of territorial space and are subject to considerable flux.” As states become only one of many sources of authority, the implication is that the international order is based neither on anarchy nor on hierarchy. (2008, 30) The position of primary authority in global politics, which was previously held by the nation-state, should now be taken up by diplomacy itself: “a perennial international institution […] a timeless, existential phenomenon, representing a response to ‘a common problem of living separately and wanting to do so, while having to conduct relations with others’ ” (Jönsson 2008, 30). But diplomacy in this sense is no actual authority; it possesses no real power since “diplomatic rules and roles” emerge through continuous interaction between societies rather than being imposed on actors through power. In other words, diplomacy, as a delusional metaphor, fails in providing any stable social link; the Master (), now foreclosed, cannot hide behind the supposedly neutral chain of signifiers. Nation-state, NGO, multinational company or rebel militia can all be treated as objects of desire on which diplomacy works, but diplomacy itself only arises as an effect of this work. Diplomacy may well draw “our attention to negotiations as key processes and networks as key structures of governance,” but it is still incapable of establishing boundaries regarding, for instance, “what criteria will be used to include or exclude new actors” and “what kind of

180   Diplomacy as Post-Politics i­nternational community diplomacy will reflect and aid in reproducing” (Jönsson 2008, 38). What appears here is nothing other than the effects of the rejection of the Name-of-the-Father, meaning that the Master Signifier offered in return – that is, diplomacy – cannot find anything to which it can attach its identity and carve out an imagined place of power for itself. This means that when symptoms ordinarily return as an object-formation in which the subject unconsciously registers the truth about itself, they do so from the lower, latent half of the structure of the discourse, thereby providing the subject with a fantasmatic image. But when, as in the post-political version of the University discourse, this entire locus (the impossible relationship between  and ) is rejected, no fantasy regarding this relationship, and the role of the Master entailed therein, can be established that would provide diplomacy with a sustainable identity. Instead it adopts the psychotic structure of language, floating around and signifying ­everything and nothing. As a consequence, is the diplomat inhabiting the post-political space, reduced to the role of a self-effacing manipulator (the position that many diplomats reportedly are uncomfortable with)? Without neither symptom nor fantasy, what other possible identity is made available for the contemporary diplomat? As noted, the actual work in the University discourse is taken on by objet a: it is thus not the diplomat and knowledge () that are in operation, but rather it is the desire belonging to the diplomatic subjects (i.e., the actors engaged in negotiation) that makes the world of diplomacy turn. In other words, only by naming new actors and forcing them to undergo diplomatization, can diplomatic knowledge produce more value. Thus, diplomats, in their function as embodying the chain of signifiers, actually help to “solve and produce conflicts around the world” (Adler-Nissen 2015, 27), not, however, in the sense that the inevitable “taking of sides” (by purposely benefiting or not benefiting one of the parties in a conflict), but because this circle of creating and solving conflicts is the only tool the system possesses in order to continue its expansion. The diplomat thus simply stands for an already pre-established set of interpretive moves destined to extract value – making it quantifiable and measurable – from the labor of those whose desires are subjected to diplomacy. In such a situation, the only actual way for diplomats themselves to take part in making the wheels turn is by becoming ­so-called business diplomats, thus moving from the position of being just selfeffacing manipulators to occupying the position of the objet a. Such an increase in business diplomats has also been acknowledged by scholars of Diplomacy Studies, defining it as part of a democratization of diplomacy, according to which “[s]tate and non-state actors lay competing claims to resources, markets and legitimacy and are engaged in activities traditionally defined as belonging to the domain of diplomacy” (Saner and Yiu 2008, 85). This development is usually understood as part of a wider trend, often referred to as economic diplomacy: In recent years governments have strengthened the economic aspects of foreign policy. For many developed countries in the West, more attention to national economic interests is a sensible response to increased competition

Diplomacy and terrorism in the digital age   181 from emerging economies, growing financial constraints, and demands for transparency, accountability and result-driven policies at home. (Okano-Heijmans 2016, 553) Thus, this world of business diplomats, what Brügger describes as a “bizarre unchartered netherworld,” is nothing more than the natural outcome of a situation in which the diplomat’s only possibility to participate in making the wheels turn is by assuming the role of a worker, producing value for the diplomatic signifier by taking part in organizing business transactions, striking trade deals, and selling commodities, especially in those regions where no traditional actors dare to go. There is, in other words, nothing “bewildering” in “mixing diplomacy and business”; simply it is the main form through which a diplomat becomes effective in filling the void of pure representation. Furthermore, this means that the situation in the CAR should not be understood as the outcome of moral corruption; the quasi-legal (or outright illegal) business taking place in the country should be interpreted as an effect of the fact that corporations and nation-states, which are integrated actors of global diplomacy, cannot fully recognize the “players” of the CAR as diplomatic counterparts since, for instance, issues with corruption, international laws against trading in blood diamonds, and questionable ownership of natural resources make it difficult for actors concerned about their reputation to do business there. What we see depicted in Brügger’s film is thus not a forgotten netherworld, but simply a result of a region whose very exclusion from the system demonstrates the fact that it is immanent to global capitalism. What is rejected in this psychotic version of the University discourse is not simply the Name-of-the-Father but, more specifically, the impossible relationship on its latent lower half (), between the Father or Master () and the split subject (), for which the Name-of-the Father is supposed to cover. It is this lack of a stable Master that Brügger captures in his initial depiction of the CAR: As the name says, the Central African Republic is situated in the middle of Africa. It offers itself as a Jurassic Park for people who long for the Africa of the 1970s. If Congo was the heart of darkness, this is the appendix. Some call it a failed state, but that would only be true if there at some point had ever been a functioning state structure. Instead there is a lawless territory the size of Texas where a couple of thousand poorly equipped soldiers try to protect the capital Bangui from the horrors of the wilderness. Inside the capital, a small, political elite spends most of its time being involved in criminal activities while waiting for the weekly flight to Paris, its former colonial master. Of course, a country such as this works as a magnet on white men with hidden agendas. (2011) Thus, the CAR appears as a territory without a Master: lawless, where no one – not the state and its military, not its formal colonial masters and its legion

182   Diplomacy as Post-Politics etrangère, nor any of those figures belonging to the wilderness – is able to fill the power vacuum. Not that the problem of the lack of a Master is specific to the CAR; as discussed already, the CAR is simply the most extreme version of a more general effect of the post-political situation. This situation is, for ­Diplomacy Studies, a double-edged sword, on the one hand transforming “the operating environment of public diplomacy” through digitalization, allowing “for people around the world to obtain even more information through horizontal peer-to-peer networks rather than through the old vertical process” (thus strengthening diplomacy), while, on the other, also “providing a platform through which disruptive forces, like hostile foreign countries, populist politicians or even teenagers churning out clickbait for money, can manipulate voters” (Cull 2013, 136; Archetti 2019, 89). And while, ordinarily, diplomacy is seen as one of the ways to counteract the downsides of such circumstances, Brügger allows us to see how the underside of the diplomatic law is openly lived out despite it wearing the hypocrite’s mask of pretending to follow protocol. Another effect of the Master’s foreclosure is what we have referred to as the diplomatization of everything. In the context of the film-documentary, everyone appears as a diplomatic subject, meaning they can enter into negotiation (or rather be bribed or threatened) with the sole aim of making them comply. There is, in other words, no big Other, no Master that pulls the strings and runs the show, no final figure of power to present with the ultimate bribe. There is instead an infinite number of small others engaged in the same struggle, regardless of whether they are nation-states like France or China, members of Parliament in the CAR, or just one of the many business diplomats who serve as Cortzen’s competitors. This foreclosure of the Master is what makes possible the very fact that everyone in the film can appear as a diplomatic subject, while their hands remain dirty. However, a good illustration of this is not to be found on the side of the missing  but on the side of the  of the foreclosed antagonism – the complete lack of ordinary people appearing in the film. The conspicuous absence of any semblance of the people has been noted by Brügger himself in interviews. He justifies this lack of ordinary people, “besides the Pygmies,” on the grounds of his intention to portray the corruption taking place away from the eyes of the people. However, the fact that no representative from the people (neither the Pygmies nor, for instance, the workers in Monsieur Gilbert’s mine or those in Cortzen’s planned match factory) speaks throughout the film can be read as a further effect of the foreclosed antagonism. In a world where one needs to be a diplomatic subject in order to speak, that is, to offer jouissance on which diplomatic knowledge can act, there is no room for individuals who cannot appear as an other, as subjects of jouissance. In a post-political field, what is foreclosed is, in other words, not only the Master as the truth of the discourse but also the Master’s counterpart, the , or the remainder of the split subject, its product. Representing the excluded product, the individuals that we see silently watching as Mr. Cortzen tries to open his match factory are faced with a dilemma: either they remain unpolitical subjects, passively standing on the touchlines, “prevented

Diplomacy and terrorism in the digital age   183 from politicizing [their] predicament of exclusion,” or they constitute themselves as a diplomatic subject, that is, as one political group in “the multiplicity of particular social strata or groups, each with its problems” (Žižek 2008, 237). This unquestioning, or even silent, people is noticeable also within the horizon of Diplomacy Studies, where it signals a further shift in the way in which scholars of diplomacy understand the people. As we have seen, in both the work of Kant and classical IR-theory, the people were a site of tension: their demands, either for revolution or for an open and democratic diplomacy, were seen as working against the explicit goal of diplomacy to establish longstanding peace. In other words, their role as a rabble was either denied or disavowed. But in each case what we are left with is a notion of the people understood as a positive entity. This ceases to be the case in contemporary theories of diplomacy. No longer do the people pose a problem or offer any site of resistance to the existing system: “Diplomatic work is about preparing the ground for others, whether they be heads of state, business people, guerrilla leaders, authors on speaking tours or citizens who have lost their passports” (Neumann 2013, 6). There is no place within diplomacy for a rabble to emerge. Symptomatic in this regard is the way in which David Wellman, who coined the term sustainable diplomacy, defines his own concept: Sustainable Diplomacy is not only interested in fomenting better relationships between heads of state; rather, it also aims to promote better long-term relations between national populations. This calls for a more intimate and profound understanding of the lives, beliefs, and concerns of people “on the ground.” (2004, 4) Not only do the people cease to constitute the problem of diplomacy (with calls for democracy or revolution), instead the category of the people comes to function as one of the objects, if not to say, the object of diplomatic negotiation. The rise in public diplomacy, or so-called soft power, coincides, as noted, with the invention of a number of other related concepts in Diplomacy Studies, such as celebrity diplomacy and citizen diplomacy, all highlighting the people as a subject of diplomacy. Furthermore, such concepts not only highlight the people as the object (a) upon which diplomatic knowledge () works, they are usually extended to include the people as one of the actors in diplomatic matters, aiding their government in matters such as trade, tourism, and security, often in relation to citizens of other states: “The information revolution has changed the balance of power between governments and citizens. Institutions became less powerful and the people became more powerful” (Gilboa 2016, 542). As we have seen, the widening of the meaning of the word diplomacy entails that the limit of diplomacy no longer has to coincide with that of the state, society, tribe, or community. This expansionist tendency has allowed for both diplomatic subjects (actors of diplomatic knowledge) and subjects of diplomacy (those performing the work) to proliferate. Thus, not only can communicative

184   Diplomacy as Post-Politics strategies adopted by government toward its own citizens be considered diplomacy, but even practices of negotiation between different groups, social strata, or even individuals within a tribe, society or state can all be defined as a diplomatic act. What we see here is that while diplomacy is ever-expanding, the fields of politics and law (traditionally separated from foreign policy) are concomitantly contracting. Matters of negotiating between different desires in order to reach the most beneficial outcome – in other words the practice of diplomacy – replace notions of power struggle, conflict, and division. The ultimate example of the psychotic structure of Diplomacy Studies is the total disappearance of social or political conflict: we all need to become diplomatic subjects since the threat against globalization is not local identity per se, but any specific “way of life” that remains unexploited by this global system. The preferred vision is that of a united world with all its particular ways of life thriving, each of them asserting its difference from others, not as an antagonistic relationship, not at the expense of others, but as a positive display of creativity that contributes to the wealth of the whole of society. (Žižek 2018, 135) But without a place for the antagonism in the symbolic, no social link, as Žižek also notes, can exist. Instead, all we get is the “psychotic globalisation of ­jouissance in discourse” (Tomšič 2015, 156). Every possible disagreement, regardless of the level on which it is expressed, can be reduced to a difference in preference and desire, thereby making it another object on which the expertise of diplomatic knowledge can be applied. But, even though the antagonism might be rejected, and thus unable to return within the symbolic field in the guise of symptoms, nevertheless it still does return.

Diplomatic subjects, terrorist subjects At this point, it is time to return to the question posed earlier regarding the return in the Real. How is it even possible for something to return outside the symbolic? In what sense can something be said to return in the Real? Žižek points out that the thing returning in the Real should not be understood as a return completely separated from the symbolic. It is not just a confusing and irrational chaos. Rather, the psychotic subject fully understands its delusions or verbal hallucinations; each and every one is saturated with meaning, thus making their return something “massively symbolic.” Hence, as Žižek continues, it is the isolation and certitude attached to the return that locates the thing in the Real, making it “ex-sist, persist and impose [itself] outside the symbolic texture” (Žižek 2012, 685). To understand this, let us begin with a “normal” subject, for whom there can be no complete certitude regarding objects, since every object takes part in a specifiable context that we can term the order of the symbolic. Partaking in the symbolic order affects the object through the introduction of a minimal difference inserted between meaning and the thing, thus demanding

Diplomacy and terrorism in the digital age   185 from the subject a necessary moment of belief to cover over this doubt. When the object, as in psychosis, appears in isolation, this symbolic context is lacking, thereby transforming a normal object – something that merely exists in the world alongside other things – to an object that imposes itself on the psychotic subject as having an existence and a meaning that appears beyond doubt. While the psychotic is certain that the object exists, that its meaning is inescapable, the subject cannot trust it, since doubt now is excluded. What this means is that the Other, although foreclosed, still remains present, for without this presence “there would be no problem of psychosis,” through the thing that imposes itself (Lacan 1997, 41). According to Žižek, this return of the foreclosed in the Real is what gives post-politics an “irrational” excessive character, illustrated by a ­“postmodern racism” emerging “as the ultimate consequence of the post-political suspension of the political, the reduction of the State to a mere police-agent servicing the (consensually established) needs of market forces and multiculturalist tolerant humanism” (Žižek 2008, 236–237). In other words, for the “postmodern racist,” the immigrant is not simply there, one other among others, but imposes him- or herself; the immigrant’s way of life confronts the racist with something that appears as completely foreign and yet unavoidable. The fact that the immigrant is isolated within the racist’s symbolic order means that, although the latter without a doubt believes the immigrant is present and poses a threat, nothing the immigrant does can provide the racist with even a minimal amount of trust: if the immigrant works, it is only to steal jobs, and if the immigrant is unemployed, it is just to exploit the welfare system, etc. This psychotic paranoia, in other words, arises because the immigrant is isolated from the social texture of the racist, appearing as a threatening other from beyond. However, this beyond is at the same time just an effect of the fact that no antagonism can appear within the symbolic field, since it lacks any signifier of the lack. The paranoia illustrated by the racist is not a phenomenon limited to xenophobic or racist ideology but an effect of the wider post-political structure. It is therefore not unexpected that in interviews Brügger has described his experience in the CAR as just paranoiac, acting under the delusional metaphor of diplomacy. Throughout the film (and in subsequent interviews) Mr. Cortzen/Brügger constantly obsesses about the risk of being the victim of some irrational outburst of violence. The irrational aspect is crucial here, illuminating how the violence is inescapable; it is no longer a question of belief but of complete certitude while this violence, at the same time, lacks any internal logic; it is impossible to know when and why it might strike, making it difficult to protect oneself from it. At this point it might be worth recalling Lacan’s famous example, often used by Žižek, of the jealousy of the psychotic husband, following his wife all the way to the bedroom door behind which she meets another man. Whether or not the wife is in fact cheating or (in the case of Mr. Cortzen) whether there exists a real threat of violence, matters little to the psychotic subject. The psychotic will rather tend to ignore real proofs, favoring the delusional fantasy and the imposing object instead. The question is not, in other words, if the situation in the CAR is in reality dangerous (it obviously is), but how the psychotic fantasies of

186   Diplomacy as Post-Politics Mr. Cortzen are not derived from actual threats, but from the structure of the diplomatic world, just as it does not matter if the wife is actually cheating or not; the jealous husband remains psychotic. Hence, Mr. Cortzen’s paranoid fantasies of an ever-present threat of violence illustrate how foreclosure makes it ­impossible for the subject to formulate the predicaments of his own situation. Relatedly, the fact that although everything is supposedly diplomatized, meaning it can be reworked into value (a) for the symbolic chain () that runs the show, still something drops out, and it is this something that both remains and returns with force. It is precisely here that the central difference between the post-political foreclosure and other forms of repression of the political shows itself: traditionally, whatever “drops out” in the University discourse (the  as product), would have been subjectivized through the ruling state apparatuses. The system not only demanded that the subject produce value, it also provided it with a fantasy through which an identity could be acquired: through interpellation one does not just produce value, by doing it one becomes someone: a worker, a priest, a parent or, perhaps, a diplomat. However, in Brügger’s postpolitical diplomacy, the apparatuses merely “desubjectivize individuals without producing a new subjectivity” (Žižek 2012, 985). meaning that there is no room for that which remains – the “disturbing freedom” that Van Heerden, for instance, discovers in his amorous encounter with Nicolette – since it is foreclosed. Thus, Mr. Cortzen’s incessant worry about his accreditation papers and documents is one side of this foreclosure; the impossibility of being a pure representative finds no outlet. What begins as a problem with his documents escalates as he continues to bother both Willem Tijssen and Varney Sherman – his principal contact within the Liberian government – to find a solution. Once again, Mr. Cortzen is certain there is a reason behind these problems (“I was afraid nobody in Liberia knew about my presence in Bangui”) and despite both Sherman’s and Tijssen’s assurances that it will not cause him any trouble (when Mr. Cortzen asks what will happen if officials from the CAR call Liberia to ask about him the Dutchman answers: “Who the hell will they phone?”), he finally lashes out at them. First, he attacks the jovial Tijssen (“Willem, you know, there are two options here. Either you are playing me or they are playing you.”) before begging Sherman for help (“But could I have something which would give me some credibility here […] what about a piece of paper that says that I’m in the process of, you know …”). Mr. Cortzen’s inability to politicize this remainder is also what leads him to violent and irrational outbursts, a mode of action that Žižek has more generally identified as a defining trait of many uprisings in the twenty-first century. The fear of these violent outbursts is what defines the return within the psychotic structure of a post-political configuration and it is this fear that, as we have seen, constantly haunts Mr. Cortzen. His fear of being the victim of an irrational outburst of violence targets not only the usual suspects (e.g., the “dangers of the wilderness”) but everyone (the local government, which had no qualms about getting rid of the Head of State Security Yamandé and his successor; Cortzen’s business partners, who might expose him to customs when he leaves the country

Diplomacy and terrorism in the digital age   187 with the diamonds; the Chinese, “they have no morals”; Willem Tijssen, “either you are playing me, or they are playing you”). Or, as the Indian consul Paul puts it when asked by Mr. Cortzen why he did not go through with his plans of opening a match factory: “The country is not so secure so … everybody’s got a gun, so anything can happen any time.” What starts to disintegrate is thus not the world around Mr. Cortzen (rather, to be more precise, this real breakdown is irrelevant to the psychotic), but the fantasmatic support that sustains his subjectivity. Since the antagonism is foreclosed, no fantasy is able to sustain Mr. Cortzen’s diplomatic subjectivity, meaning that no object can provide the necessary outlet for his frustrations. We can even claim that here it becomes possible to discern the difference between Mr. Cortzen’s psychotic outburst and Keyter’s hystericized questioning: while Keyter’s constant acting outs are aimed at finding out who he was for the Other, to discover the nature of objet a and make the Master reinstate the law, Mr. Cortzen’s outbursts are seemingly only aimed at confirming his suspicions that everyone is working against him. Thus, these outbursts become a way of releasing a build-up of energy (those frustrations he experiences in his daily diplomatic life) and are themselves the result of the fact that no object of desire can appear. The same structure shows itself when ambassador Cortzen tries to obtain what he later discovers to be an illegal contract that he had been responsible for drafting together with Monsieur Gilbert. After yet another fruitless attempt to extract the contract from the lawyer who wrote it, Ambassador Cortzen and his chargé d’affaires Paul analyze the situation outside in the car and once again he lashes out: For all I know, Monsieur Gilbert could have left the country now with my money. […] Suddenly I have a feeling that Monsieur Gilbert and my lawyer are in a conspiracy together, against me. (Brügger 2011) After Paul reluctantly admits that something seemed odd at the meeting, the ambassador goes on to attack him: “Are you also working for Monsieur Gilbert? Are you working for the minister? Paul, answer my question: who are you working for?” After this final outburst, and the news that Yamandé, the Head of State Security has been assassinated, Mr. Cortzen’s last resort is to hide in his consulate “with the only two people left in Bangui that I could trust” – the two assistants who had been loaned to him by the local Pygmy tribe. This acute sense of paranoia, which the failure of representation provokes, proves to be too much for him; indeed, no possible letter might offer him the assurances he needs in a form he can wholeheartedly trust. Not that this paranoia is present only in Mr. Cortzen’s breakdown. It also shows itself in his constant racist outbursts, which are another outlet for his frustrations regarding his constant failures. We should interpret this particular outlet as a consequence of the lack of the object acting as a counterpart to his subjectivity. Thus, these outbursts can be read as a message about himself to the other. What appears as an annoyance with the other’s enjoyment (e.g., the Chinese “are greedy”) is really the problem of the

188   Diplomacy as Post-Politics lack of his own enjoyment. It seems to have been stolen and no one can be held responsible for that. What we can see is thus precisely how the post-political field of diplomacy cannot include an antagonism appearing within its own horizon: there is no lack present, only the disturbing presence of something that, although pregnant with meaning, simply does not take part in the established order. Mr. Cortzen’s annoyance with the other is, in this sense, an effect of the delusional metaphor that diplomacy has become. The frustration that haunts ambassador Cortzen regarding an other engulfed in some unintelligible form of jouissance from which diplomats are excluded also appears in Diplomacy Studies. This occasional appearance of a tear in the symbolic fabric, the only way in which the Real can return, can be found in diplomacy’s assumed relationship to the perhaps most problematic figures in contemporary international politics, that is, those actors – such as terrorists, rogue states, and ethnic warlords – who refuse to act as “reasonable” counterparts in diplomatic negotiation, instead demanding everything or nothing: How governments of nation-states communicate with actors engaging in “terrorist” tactics is in an important sense the limit case for evaluating the success of traditional nation-state foreign policy strategy and traditional diplomacy. Unlike governments, multilateral organizations, global firms and CSOs, terrorist actors do not observe agreed conventions of diplomatic representation and communication. Hence it is difficult for a government to engage in traditional diplomacy when their intention is to mediate estrangement with non-state, and specifically terrorist, actors. (Deos and Pigman 2010, 153) Earlier during the twentieth century, the terrorist or warlord was seen as only posing a threat to local stability, turning them into problems for local authorities rather than global diplomatic institutions. However, in the twenty-first century, the threats these figures pose constitute what we might call a non-diplomatic subjectivity, confronting and threatening to destabilize the entire globalized system of diplomacy as such. The problem with this kind of figure is precisely what George W. Bush highlighted regarding Saddam Hussein: the non-diplomatic subject does not play by the rules, meaning not even (threats of) violence can bend their wills. The fear of this non-diplomatic subject is, of course, even greater with the rapid digitalization that has defined the first two decades of the new millennium, not only in the form of extremist radicalization but, perhaps more importantly for Diplomacy Studies, in the growing populist movement defined by nationalism and protectionism. Constantinou and Der Derian illustrate this understanding of the situation perfectly: A negative spirit seems to rule the world of diplomacy and muzzle hope – which is why Obama’s message appeared so appealing to both US voters and Nobel Peace Prize jurists. Worse, this negative spirit seems to accelerate as the news cycle shrinks, as classical diplomacy gives way to its public

Diplomacy and terrorism in the digital age   189 form. Inordinate means are too often and too quickly applied to ill-conceived ends; hegemonic agendas pass off as humanitarian practices in the global media; strategies of sovereign power cause or exacerbate problems, overrule and spin off their lack of resolution. Great moments of hope, like 11/9, when hammer blows to the Berlin Wall marked a symbolic end to a halfcentury of Cold War diplomacy, are too easily reversed by global events of terror, like 9/11, when kamikaze aircraft piloted by jihadists crashed into the Twin Towers. (2010, 5) Thus, the fact that the terrorist constitutes a “limit case” for diplomacy indicates how this figure cannot constitute a symptom internal to the system; this is to say, the return of the terrorist cannot be incorporated into the system, since no fantasy can be offered to establish the failure that brings the terrorist about. Not that this figure can just be overlooked. Although scholars of Diplomacy Studies are seemingly aware that terrorists and other un-diplomatic subjects pose a different kind of threat to the contemporary diplomatic field, it appears as if they are incapable of addressing these issues. Instead, in a typically psychotic fashion, their only answer is more diplomacy. So even though “it seems that the new public diplomacy also underpins the techniques used by hostile actors in undermining democratic processes in foreign countries,” making it difficult to “engage in traditional diplomacy” with actors such as terrorists (Pamment and Bjola 2019, 174), some suggest that “this new global environment requires sustainable public diplomacy characterized by fair and open interaction with all actors engaged in ongoing two-way communications” (Deos and Pigman 2010, 154). This, often explicitly Habermasian, dream is not only post-political at its very core, it also exhibits the traits of the psychotic side of language without an underside. It cannot do anything but carry on as an “absolute immanence […] with no cuts of negativity/castration” (Žižek 2017, 201). Post-political diplomacy cannot allow the existence of any antagonism, instead every unsolvable conflict has yet to submit to the transformative potential of diplomacy, that is, a form of diplomacy (a more spiritual form of diplomacy) that engages in heterology to revisit and rearticulate homology, whose mission is not only the knowledge and control of the Other but fundamentally the knowledge of the Self – and crucially this knowledge of the Self as more reflective means dealing with and transforming relations with Others. (Constantinou 2010, 68) In other words, there is, according to this perspective, no real otherness, only the true homology of the One masquerading as difference, meaning that “the ethnic and national Other is always part of a wider single self” (Constantinou 2010, 79). When the antagonism of the rabble is rejected, it may only return in the post-political form of a non-diplomatic subject of terrorism, but without a

190   Diplomacy as Post-Politics reasonable demand, the figure of the terrorist might itself prove to be the end of diplomacy.

Conclusion After the fall of the Soviet Union, it seemed that diplomacy was once again in need of reinvention: faced with the growing despair during the era of the “balance of power,” the 1980s had left few with any hope of ever establishing a durable peace through diplomacy. In a situation where some weapons of mass destruction had become powerful enough to end entire civilizations, words no longer possessed the power to change the balance of power. Diplomacy had become toothless. But, then came the fall of the Berlin Wall, of “really existing socialism,” and eventually, the signing of a treaty between NATO and Russia, signaling that diplomacy was once again on the agenda. However, it was no longer the diplomacy of ultra-politics, that is of balancing the direct militarization of the relationships between states. What began to replace it was a diplomacy of ever-present negotiation, a thinking of diplomacy that spoke in terms of ontologization and pluralization – a new paradigm that jettisoned diplomacy for, predictably, diplomatization. In this post-political diplomacy, no problem seemed unsolvable and the people, who had earlier been the bane of diplomacy, no longer posed a threat to diplomatic conduct (neither through their failure to assert their will, nor through the fact that the will of the people was incommensurable with the secretive functioning of diplomacy). Instead, the people, this positive entity, became the main actor in all diplomatic communication. How, though, could this depiction of diplomacy become possible? What could appear under the reinvented signifier of diplomacy in the nineties was an increasingly globalized and simultaneously fragmented field where, with the power of traditional nation-states on the wane, an ever-increasing number of new actors all needed to be included in the diplomatic discussion. This meant that diplomacy could be imagined as the primary practice for ensuring that all these actors could “live together in difference,” something which merged well with the growing belief that diplomacy borders on something of an ­ontological and existential constant for us humans. In making these existentialontological overtures, it was clear that a certain distance was being established from the classical idea that diplomacy was simply an answer to the anarchic field of nation-states. Instead, what we might call diplomaticity was now understood as a fundamentally human trait. But, rather than appearing to the newly formed field of Diplomacy Studies as a practice simply adapting to changes in the political structure to which it belonged (as well as in the technologies of communication it could make use of), post-political diplomacy offered what we might call the hopes of the completely diplomatized world – in which every subject capable of  expressing a negotiable desire could become a subject of diplomacy. Diplomacy, in other words, is not an ontological constant, but an answer to an ­ inescapable impossibility immanent to the functioning of the ­capitalist formation of discourses.

Diplomacy and terrorism in the digital age   191 The new attempt at a diplomatic law posited that all conflict arose from natural differences in desire, while the diplomat’s task lay in acting as the ­self-effacing manipulator, maximizing profit for every subject involved in negotiation. But as Brügger’s The Ambassador showed, this inclusion of everyone also meant that something was radically excluded from the diplomatic sphere; all those who could not express a desire and become just additional subjects for the chain of diplomatic knowledge to work on. In contrast to both archi-political and ultra-political diplomacy, in which this threat of the rabble returned, either as a threat to the law (e.g., the Kantian revolutionaries) or as its obscene underside (e.g., Keyter’s women), the new diplomatic law appears as delusional, ­constantly evading confrontation with its own issues. Instead, the rejected antagonism that returns in the Real means that its irrational and excessive character constantly appears as a threat to the law’s very existence. What this illustrates is how the impossibility of a primordial Vorstellungsrepräsentanz, which is able to constitute a whole without an outside, is rejected rather than denied or disavowed in post-political diplomacy; the anti-diplomatic figure, no longer finding a place within the realm of the law, has become simply an ever-present threat of obliteration. Thus, the rejection of the impossibility of the primordial signifier is what provides post-political diplomacy with its psychotic features, constantly fearing whatever may return in the Real. What appears in Mr. Cortzen’s psychotic fantasy is the world looking back at him, a stare from the Real with which he grows increasingly uneasy during the film. Brügger assumes that this paranoia arises from the split between himself and the role he plays in the documentary. However, what appears as an external split between “real” and “fake” identity (and the threat of being exposed) is, in actual fact, internal to the latter. Since the delusional metaphor of diplomacy marks the radical exclusion of the Names-ofthe-Father, it is only from the inside, with the power of immunity and the status given to him as a representative, that these monsters of the Real start to haunt him; indeed, it is also only from within diplomacy that this field “beyond all moral consideration” appears as such. In other words, it is only against the backdrop of diplomacy as the objective expert-knowledge with peace and prosperity as its only allegiances, that the corrupted world of diplomacy in the CAR appears. Believing that he represents the law, his psychotic speech regarding the moral deficiencies of others can continue uncensored, meaning that his failure is neither the standard reproach that he went too far (what about those affected by his movie?), nor is it the case that he failed to go far enough (he should have dragged the morally corrupt to court). Rather, it is a matter of him not seeing how what appeared to be a case of severe moral corruption is, in fact, the necessary underside of the diplomatic law. Instead of actually dissecting the appendix of darkness, all Brügger bit off was a mouthful of post-political ideology. His constant fear of being on the receiving end of some irrational eruption of violence in the Real is simply the mirror image of the racist annoyance with the other – in other words, the fear of being the subject of the other’s violence only sparks more violence that serves to cover over the failures of his role as a

192   Diplomacy as Post-Politics r­ epresentative. Despite his continuous search for a letter that can guarantee his credentials and thus save him from the horrors of the jungle, nothing seems able to fill this void in Mr. Cortzen’s ambassadorial subjectivity. Instead, the letter is either condemned to be just another failed piece of the diplomatic field or it carries with it another threat of violence. It is thus in Mr. Cortzen that we meet not some fringe character but the ultimate subject of a diplomacy that increasingly coincides with the psychotic structure of language. This vicious circle in terms of the proliferation of diplomacy in today’s age (wherein everything becomes not only digitalized but also diplomatized) is, in other words, not the radical opposite of diplomacy in the CAR. Instead, the situation in this failed state provides an illustration of how the circle is not a closed one (leaving the CAR on the outside), but rather takes on the structure of a Möbius band, constantly challenging notions of “inside” and “outside.” As we saw, even the objective side of diplomacy includes this limit, found in the non-diplomatic subject – the terrorist, the populist, the rogue state or the ethnic warlord – all of whom refuse to formulate a negotiable desire, opting for all or nothing. It is thus not that the terrorist or the rogue state has changed form or methodology since before the end of the Cold War. Rather, what before appeared as a local threat toward the stability of one particular nation-state now returns in isolation, incapable of incorporation into the ever-expanding chain of diplomatic signifiers. This illustrates the shift from ultra-political disavowal to post-political rejection since the delusional law, in contradistinction to the perverted law, has no possible outside. Instead of the ideology of diplomacy being a limitation against the impossibility of the One of society, pointing to something external that does not belong (e.g., the revolutionary or the people’s will), it now works according to an opposite logic: ideology as abundance designed to keep us from interfering with the impossibility itself. It is thus only as a return in the Real that these figures pose a threat against “the order sustaining international life,” meaning that, as we have seen, some actors are desperately trying to retain the traditional hierarchy of diplomacy, so that public diplomacy must aim at “appeasing popular opinion, whatever the sincerity of such efforts may be” (Rolfe 2014, 101). Thus, we can also formulate an answer to today’s popular ontologization of diplomacy: it is not that diplomacy constitutes an unavoidable aspect of social life but rather that everything appears as diplomacy because it, under a delusional signifier, takes on the psychotic character of language. Diplomacy is, in other words, stuck in the endless metonymical sliding of language, for which no halting point is offered since no proper Master Signifier can appear as the signifier covering over the lack. Instead, the lack is simply there, as a horrifying Real, always threatening to swallow the entire chain of knowledge. The history of the concept of diplomacy has here appeared as just one tragedy after another, constantly vacillating between standing on the brink of death and being on the verge of rebirth. Constantly haunted by its own failures, how is it that diplomacy never seems to find peace? To answer this question, it is necessary, once again, to return to issues of representation, of the name, and of the death of diplomacy.

Diplomacy and terrorism in the digital age   193

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10 Final remarks Enjoy your diplomacy!

Final remarks: enjoy your diplomacy! In the introduction to this book I set out to answer what might have appeared a somewhat naïve question – What is diplomacy – doing so through the prismatic filter of Slavoj Žižek’s thought. Beginning with the sixteenth century Renaissance portraitist Hans Holbein’s painting The Ambassadors, the goal was to capture the ways in which not only contemporary Diplomacy Studies but also its forerunners have tried to formulate the limits of diplomacy and the challenges facing this field. I argued that it was possible to divide the problems haunting diplomacy into three general themes: death, the name, and representation. Primarily, the topic of the death of diplomacy originated in the longstanding idea that diplomacy constantly lives under the threat of being deemed obsolete in the world of international politics. Thus, the theme of the death and resurrection of diplomacy, as well as the work of those who have tried to anticipate its imminent demise or to reimagine its renewal, was central to this investigation. The second issue, the name, points to the ongoing difficulties of defining what the term diplomacy actually designates and the problems of answering the question of the nature, scope, and possibilities of diplomacy that arise out of this failure. Here, a focus on the birth of the term diplomacy was needed in order to understand the troubles surrounding its meaning. Finally, Lacan’s reading of the skull in the forefront of Holbein’s painting was used to capture the problems of representation, pointing to the limitations of performing the diplomatic act of representing a sovereign. In a tradition where the stumbling block of successful diplomacy is supposedly found either in the (lacking) skills of individual diplomats or in the uncertainties concerning the proper will of the represented, Lacan’s analysis pointed us toward the failure of representation as such and how this failure is retroactively inscribed into the very act of representing. Reading the problems of death, the name, and representation together, rather than as problems operating on different levels or problems of different kinds, the hope was to capture something internal that could be said to belong to diplomacy itself, thereby providing us with the kernel that defines its nature. These final remarks will thus begin with a short recapitulation of the problem of the name and Hegel’s and Freud’s respective reflections on war, in order to remind ourselves

196   Final remarks of the general approach that has been adopted during this study. Thereafter, a recapitulation of the most central conclusions regarding the three forms of diplomacy (archi-, ultra-, and post-political) will be followed by a presentation of the answer to diplomacy’s problem of the name, death, and representation. This will open up for discussion of the possibilities of diplomacy in what appears to be the increasingly global and digital, but also more polarized and isolationist, sphere of international relations, thus trying to offer a reflection on what the results presented here might tell us about the state of the present political situation. Beginning with the most basic question, what diplomacy designates, the task was to formulate an answer that went against prevailing descriptivist and antidescriptivist approaches (that is, the attempt either to search for the most fitting bundle of descriptors or to locate the meaning deriving from an initial baptism). This has meant trying to reformulate the problem by beginning with Žižek’s emphasis on “the radical contingency of naming.” What appeared was that when relations between states and monarchs, starting with the French Revolution, came into the hands of the people, it seemed as if the name diplomacy offered a field in which several disparate desires could coalesce. For this reason, the term diplomacy, invented in France during the latter half of the eighteenth century, did not simply constitute a new name that designated an already existing practice, nor was it just a political slogan used by the revolutionaries against the monarch and his aristocracy. Instead, it seems as if these struggles only appeared retroactively, meaning that through the very contingency of naming, and the field of signifiers that this act stitched together, the struggle between old and new diplomacy could emerge. What Kant illustrated when he offered an analogy between, on the one hand, the supposedly anarchic field of the relation between states and, on the other, the violent state of nature characterizing the pre-­ civilized human, was precisely how the name of diplomacy could adopt the role of providing a specific social link, allowing Kant to present the law (which was really just that of the market) as a natural and peaceful suppressor of the violence and the brutality that assumedly plagued the pre-civilized competition over resources. What it offered, in other words, was the fantasy of the pacifying effects of organizing exchange through a market as the answer to the violence of the French Revolutionary Wars. What the name diplomacy does is to mark the transformation from the relationship between monarchs, in which every confrontation is a struggle to the death (since only one true Master can remain), into a field of multiple individual entities engaged in constant negotiations. Peaceful relations between sovereigns, in other words, went from being a postponing of the inevitable battle to the death into an eternal negotiation, thus opening up for the possibility of thinking a perpetual peace. This was thus the main hope of the revolutionary call for the Master Signifier of new diplomacy; that institutionalizing relations so that they focused on trade and commerce for the whole people rather than the whims and wishes of the monarch would put an end to conflict on the international level. However, as Žižek’s claim about the radical contingency of naming implies, this transformation, which the name made possible, must be supplemented with an understanding of how the very act of naming, instantiated

Final remarks   197 through a Master Signifier, is marked by the repression of the impossibility of the One. The problems of finding the true meaning of the name diplomacy should thus not be located in the incapacity of language to properly ascribe to its practice a certain bundle of designators (as a descriptivist would claim), nor is it because we have failed to excavate the truth of the word, beginning from its baptism in eighteenth century France (as the anti-descriptivist would alternatively claim). Instead, the true meaning is found in the very impossibility the word diplomacy conceals, that is, the antagonistic kernel or the less than nothing, the failed unity of society that, as an ideological structure, it tries to forget. In line with Žižek’s word, we have not tried to discover the impossiblereal limit of diplomacy (how it brushes up against a limit in the form of the state, the diplomatic subject, the technological development etc.), but rather how the act of naming signals the act of cleaning the slate, thereby allowing for the gap of impossibility itself to be forgotten. With such a focus on the failure immanent to the discipline, the main topic for this study has been to locate the nature of diplomacy through its relationship to the impossibility of the One. Returning to Hegel’s and Freud’s respective reflections on war and its unavoidability in the era of the nation-state (invoked through claims surrounding “the necessity of war” and the death drive), the object of the study was, precisely, how diplomacy can be defined in and through its place in this spurious infinity. What Žižek points to when he defines the idea of the necessity of war as the outcome of the impossibility of the One – that the state is doomed to fail because “no organic social order can effectively contain the force of abstract universal negativity” (Žižek 2012, 450) – is that in a war we are confronted with one of the activities seeking to externalize the transhistorical impossibility of the nation-state. The necessity of war is one way to name the gap which forever makes the nation-state, the modern formulation of the One of society, inaccessible as a harmonic whole, forcing it to construct a shielding ideology. The thing that makes diplomacy and war necessary can, therefore, be read as coinciding with what Freud aimed at with his notion of death-drive – more precisely, the key dimension of this notion to which Freud himself was blind, unaware of what he discovered, is the “non-dialectical” core of the Hegelian negativity, the pure drive to repeat without any movement of sublimation/idealization. The paradox here is that pure repetition (in contrast to repetition as idealizing sublation) is sustained precisely by its impurity, by the persistence of a contingent “pathological” element to which the movement of repetition is stuck. (Žižek 2012, 500) The point here is not that there actually is a non-dialectical core to the state, but that even what appears as the pinnacle of non-dialectical thought, the compulsion to repeat, is sustained by a minimal dialectics of impurity. In other words, even in pure repetition, a less than nothing appears as the grit on which the state machinery gets stuck, that is, a self-relating negativity impossible to

198   Final remarks include into it, forcing this attempt to endlessly repeat itself. As one of the names under which the movement of repetition is externalized, diplomacy ­therefore receives its nature from a less than nothing that forces the repetition to continue. Accordingly, diplomacy is the answer to the threat that indexes this impossibility within the modern nation-state, the objet a that appears as its limit, and what Hegel called der Pöbel. The rabble – this name for the impurity that renders impossible the state’s imagined unity – constitutes the immanent threat posed by the negative force found in those who cannot (or will not) partake in upholding the state through work. It is this negative force, and the state’s attempt to externalize it, that turns the rabble into the less than nothing of diplomacy, the very negativity that drives the repetition of diplomacy as a name. Although Hegel failed to point out that this logic of externalization, capturing the limit of the bourgeois nation-state, would result in the call for a new ­Aufhebung, his depiction of how the apparently contingent practice of war arises with necessity out of the nation-state’s immanent impossibility nevertheless provides a touchstone for our understanding of diplomacy. What the investigation into diplomacy as archi-, ultra-, and post-politics has shown is how the figure of the rabble returns in different guises throughout the history of diplomacy, beginning with the French Revolution. Furthermore, depending on the kind of negation that externalized the self-relating negativity of the One, the rabble takes on different forms of the “contingent ‘pathological’ element” (Žižek 2012, 500) that indexes this negativity as such. Thus, for Kant and Henry James’ Strether from The Ambassadors, the protection against the return of the rabble can be found in the myth of an archaic unity of the people, defined in and through their difference from the uncivilized savage. Here the latter either supposedly lived in ­violence because they “cling to their lawless freedom” or because they follow the ugly desires opposed to “the beautiful” and “the wonderful” nature of civilized taste. In other words, proper diplomacy was defined in and through the moral choice of a subject already assumed to comply with diplomatic values. Confronted with the return of the repressed remnant, both Kant and Strether protected their respective archaic myth through denial, avoiding the truth that appeared through the figure of the revolutionary or through the secrets of Chad’s relationship with Madame de Vionnet. What we see here is the first repetition of the rabble, in the denial defining archi-political diplomacy. But since we are dealing with an internal rather than an external negation, no fantasy formation can forever contain the force of the self-relating negativity. Indeed, both Kant and Strether already anticipate the second negation of the people, ultra-political diplomacy, wherein archaic unity is abandoned in favor of the externalization of the impossible gap itself, from out of which their respective versions of a diplomacy of spurious infinity are proposed. Thus, in Part III, approaching the topic of ultra-political diplomacy, it was possible to detect how the figure of the rabble – as the impossibility of the One of the state – was at one and the same time acknowledged but deprived of its effects through externalized isolation. This is why Brink’s Ambassador Van Heerden could dismiss his government as impotent without this insight ruining

Final remarks   199 his work at the embassy. But André Brink’s novel also showed the horrors of the other side of this perverted logic: Keyter’s suicide as the effect of his direct ­identification with the objet a, the spectral object appearing in the place of the impossible gap. Thus, we could see how the perverted logic splits into two ­possible approaches: either, as in the case of Keyter, a perverted attachment to the letter of the law (mustering the destructive violence that also defines the ­religious extremist), or the perverted distance through the law, both allowing it to keep functioning precisely in and through their constant interventions. Their perverted attempts to push the Master into constantly re-inaugurating the law were also characteristic of the post-war works on diplomacy written in the field of International Relations, in which the impossibility of diplomacy under the threat of the people was acknowledged while still retaining the dream of a true Master, able to reinstate the organic unity of the state through differentiating it from others. The realist dream of international politics as a balance of power illustrates anew how ultra-politics, the externalization of the threat, requires constant meddling only to make sure that nothing is going to change. However, even this ultra-political fantasy eventually failed, turning diplomacy into a delusional metaphor under which no impossibility could persist. Here we encounter post-political diplomacy, according to which everything appears as part of the diplomatic field, allowing for Diplomacy Studies to keep on uncovering the never-ending process of diplomatization affecting every aspect of the world. Instead of a diplomatic ideology trying to limit diplomacy (it cannot, for instance, be based in the will of the revolutionaries or the people), the protection against the negativity of the rabble is in post-political diplomacy constructed in terms of an abundance, as a never-ending expansion occupying the middle ground between the “excessive skepticism” of the thesis of necessity of war and the “exaggerated hope” of the dream of perpetual peace. Thus, Mads Brügger’s Mr. Cortzen showed how even that which seems to constitute the outside of diplomacy remained well integrated into the normal running of things. But since we are still dealing with a negation of the impossibility of the One, the pathological object returned even in this new repetition, this time as the haunting figure of the Real, a growing fear of irrational eruptions of violence and other anti-diplomatic behavior from terrorists, populists, and other figures of the postpolitical wilderness. In other words, in its very attempt to turn everything into diplomacy, post-political diplomacy exists under the constant threat that what remains outside the system, beyond the grasp of the diplomatic rationality, will return with a vengeance. Together, these three forms of diplomacy capture three ideological formations constructed to protect the state from its immanent impossibility, either by denying it (allowing for the myth of the original unity), disavowing it (and submitting it to an externalized opposition between states), or rejecting it (offering a totalized field apparently without an outside). Hence, the name of diplomacy points to its role as an Ideological State Apparatus aiming to protect the state and insure its continued functioning by attempting to establish a clear opposition between inside and outside. However, owing to the fact that the name functions

200  Final remarks to veil the impossible One, this endeavor constantly fails, resulting in “a ‘blind’ compulsion-to-repeat” as an impure dialectics from the inside to the outside and back again. Thus, in the dialectics of diplomacy and war, “in fighting its external opposite, the blind nonsublatable repetition, the dialectical movement is fighting its own abyssal ground, its own core” (Žižek 2012, 502–503). In the cases of both war and diplomacy, the state’s failure resides in its incapacity to see how what appears as an external threat is nothing more than the internal antagonism that Hegel called the rabble. Before engaging with the question implied by Žižek when discussing how the dialectical movement constitutes a struggle with one’s own impossible ground – namely what diplomacy, given this, actually can do – let us first summarize the way in which the three problems of Diplomacy Studies (name, death, and representation) can finally find their solution as an effect of this reading. Returning to the name diplomacy, we can claim that the history of diplomacy begins with the French Revolution, not because there was any specific meaning assigned to the concept at that point in time, but because it allowed for the creation of diplomacy as an anti-democratic democracy: a pathological negation of the part-of-no-part that is the prerequisite for modern liberal democracy, supplanting it with democracy on the nation-state level. There are, in other words, no secrets to uncover in its name, no connection to ancient pasts or holy origins. The only thing that the name of diplomacy as a Master Signifier offers is a point de capiton, holding together a specific field of signifiers. The implication here is that it is the impure negation of the rabble that constitutes the trans-historical kernel of diplomacy, remaining the same from the French Revolution up until today, despite the many historically specific constellations that diplomacy has taken since. Thus, the rabble is also the key to understanding the problem of the death of diplomacy. The proponents of diplomacy’s impending doom have, since the nineteenth century, competed in trying to locate the source of its undoing: technological advances, the proliferation of diplomatic actors, and, not least, the people, all of which have been assumed to constitute diplomacy’s executioner. But what has emerged from all the texts we have investigated in this study is not the existence of an external threat, some new actor or fundamental change of the international field coming from beyond to put an end to diplomacy. Rather, diplomacy was already a living dead from the beginning, shown not least in the fact that Kant, in his addendum to Perpetual Peace, concluded by claiming the impossibility of ever fully achieving his goal of bringing about the final end to all wars. Because of the negativity of the rabble, from the very outset diplomacy is forever destined to fail its task. Negating the foundational antagonism of the rabble will not remove this threat once and for all. Rather, in diplomacy the impossibility of the One undergoes an indefinite process of displacement. Finally, we reached the problem of representation, the level of the diplomatic subject, which is assumed to have been made if not impossible then at least increasingly difficult with the changing landscape of international politics during the last century. But as everyone from Strether, via Stephen Keyter and Van Heerden,

Final remarks   201 to Mr. Cortzen have shown, the act of representation is not made impossible because the Master is somehow unaware, incomprehensible, incompetent, or corrupt. Rather, the impossibility stems from the impasse of representation as such. Hence, it is not, as some claim, that representation is made more difficult in late modernity because we lack a monarch with one single will that the ambassador can embody. The failure of representation does not lie in the ambassador’s incapacity to properly represent some unknown x (and consequently, the more we know about x, the more effective diplomacy will be). Rather, what the failures of our diplomats illustrate is the impossibility of the unity of the Master and the law, meaning that what their respective strategies – from neurotic moral masochism (Strether) and perverted false acceptance (Van Heerden) to psychotic fear of the Real (Cortzen) all the way to Keyter’s suicide – pertain to is the Lacanian claim that the big Other does not exist. Thus, when the letter returns to the ambassadorial subject, what is really facing it is the impossibility the diplomat must cover over; in other words, the letter reveals the void of the diplomat. Akin to the skull disturbing the unity of Holbein’s painting, diplomatic representation is from the outset stained by a blot disturbing the harmonic relationship between the Master who is represented and the representative. Considering this gloomy depiction of the possibility of successful diplomatic practice, does any hope remain? Many, especially within the field of Diplomacy Studies, would claim that the technological development together with the rise of so-called public diplomacy or soft power taking place since the fall of the Soviet Union, would constitute such a promise, finally shifting diplomacy’s focus from large congresses in lavish banquet halls to the actual people that make up any given nation-state. Thus, the advent of digital diplomacy is not just “the general migration of governments to the online world,” but also a way of “facilitating the creation of relationships with online publics” (Kampf, Manor, and Segev 2015, 352). As such, digital diplomacy is understood as a new way for governments to battle populist rhetoric, misinformation, and the general distrust in democracy seemingly gaining traction all over the world. The blurring of borders that supposedly came with the rapid globalization of the twenty-first century is assumed also to have broadened the range of potential targets of diplomatic practice. The idea is that, for instance, the expansion of social media offers a new and promising horizon for diplomacy since these technologies “provide diplomatic missions with direct access to citizens, both inside and outside of their countries,” meaning that diplomacy becomes a practice of ­governing not only state to state relations but the entire field of politics. Thus, two things become clear: (i) the contemporary political sphere is understood as increasingly global and increasingly anarchical and (ii) the potentially positive aspect of this development is in need of mediation in order to secure that these transformations remain beneficial for the people. Thus, the situation of digital diplomacy is often focused on the salutary effects of digital diplomacy. Whether in managing change, serving as a tool of public diplomacy, limiting secrecy, enhancing

202  Final remarks legitimacy or creating metapower, the implicit normative valence of these activities is positive. (Holmes 2015, 200) However, while potentially holding the key to establishing, if not a perpetual then at least a long-lasting, peace, “finding ways and terms under which rival entities and ways of living can co-exist and flourish” and focusing on “living together in difference” by increasing understanding, the development of new technologies of diplomacy also brings with it new treats: Digital diplomacy as a form of change management is, after all, an exercise of politics and consequently less salutary dimensions are present as well. Terrorist groups, unsavoury organizations, and other non-state actors with dubious intent use digital technologies to manage changes in the international environment and promote their own messages as well. How do these less salutary instances of digital “diplomacy,” understood broadly, interact with the more salutary dimensions? (Holmes 2015, 200) Diplomacy is thus in charge of navigating between the new potentialities of digitalization constantly under threat from terrorists, populists, and other “nonstate actors whit dubious intent.” Yet, “[d]iplomacy is particularly suitable for managing international change because at its core it represents a mode of understanding that privileges the plural character of human existence and treats as axiomatic the proposition that relations between groups are different from those within them” (Bjola 2015, 3). Understood as the expression of a mediating trait inherent to language, that is, language’s power to bring together a community through communication, diplomacy becomes one way of making people speak the same language. This idea of diplomats as the facilitators of a pluralistic world of living together through establishing rational norms has, as mentioned, its (often even explicitly) Habermasian tendencies, driven by an idea of how “a pluralistic society might settle the terms of its common life by negotiating its common norms rather than succumbing to the outputs of a clash of interests or processes of homogenization” (Mitzen 2015, 140). As we have seen, contemporary diplomacy, as the practice of making sure that humans (and no longer just nation-states), can live together peacefully, allowing them to retain their individual identities, has recently been formulated as a project for sustainable, plural or even kinship diplomacy. Costas M. Constantinou and James Der Derian presented their call for a new diplomacy in the following way: Perhaps the first step towards a sustainable diplomacy is to restore diplomacy as a virtue. If we are to follow Aristotelian terms, to be a diplomat ab initio entails the notion of being a “good diplomat” (the two are inseparable). The ethical imperative is not to take diplomats as they happen to be but as they ought to be if they are to realize their telos or functional excellence. The

Final remarks   203 virtuous diplomat should not be an obedient servant but potentially a challenger and modifier of policies, including of the policy one is called to serve. (Constantinou and Der Derian 2010, 3) So, in a situation in which the world exists in a kind of perpetual negotiation, constantly threatened by anti-diplomatic characters, a tireless and ever vigilant diplomacy seems to be the only solution. Seemingly stuck in a dialectic between diplomacy and anti-diplomacy (perhaps most perfectly captured by the last four U.S. presidents), one could read contemporary Diplomacy Studies’ call to arms in the digital and populist age as a version of the early Žižek’s fascination with the Beckettian formula, “Try again. Fail again. Fail better.” Here, our only hope would be to engage in diplomatic conduct, trying to manage change and to further the positive sides of society’s (technological) development, while still reminding ourselves that grandiose goals such as perpetual peace remain unachievable. However, the problem with such an approach to diplomacy is that it does not constitute a practice capable of confronting “its own abyssal ground,” since this Master Signifier rather constitutes a fantasy screen bringing us further away from the antagonism plaguing modern liberal democracies. As we have seen, understanding diplomacy as a practice of mediating different views or lifeworlds through language and technology still assumes it is capable of establishing at least a minimal level of identity in which to ground a peace project. But, as Hegel has already pointed out, “even if a number of states join together as a family, this league, in its individuality, must generate opposition and create an enemy” (Hegel 2015, §324). Identity in modern social society is, in other words, of necessity impossible, and approaching, as diplomacy does, the clash between different, already external identities, obscures the fact that the tension originally emerged in the antagonism between one identity and its own negation, what Hegel called the rabble. Hence, the diplomatization of people in and through digital tools can never take on the form of a confrontation with the immanent negativity of the state since it only acts when that antagonism has already been externalized in an apparent conflict between two (or more) positive identities. As such, the people may only appear in diplomacy as another subject in need of mediation, making its demands measured against other diplomatic actors as well as the virtues of diplomatic conduct (whatever they might be). Although diplomacy certainly possesses the capability of ending existing conflicts, it can never end tensions as such, since it only intervenes to treat the symptom of the modern nation-state’s impossibility. Thus, the hope for sustainable digital diplomacy is, as mentioned, perhaps the greatest example of the fantasy of the post-political formation diplomacy; its all-encompassing field devouring everything will constantly be threatened by a return of something it never really can anticipate, since its solution of establishing peace on at least a minimal identity (for instance letting others enjoy their way of life because I want to enjoy mine) remains haunted by its own impossibility. Offering sustainable digital diplomacy up as another version of the Kantian and Jamesian spurious infinity would not, in any sense, bring us closer to universal peace. Rather, diplomacy would just

204   Final remarks repeat the same failure again and again, since it, in an attempt to preserve the state or identity it serves to support, approaches the threat as if it were an ­external opposition rather than an internal antagonism. Treating citizens, corporations, NGOs and states as different actors trying to satisfy their desires on the international stage does not take into account the reason why these desires arise in the first place: the impossibility at the heart of the state itself and the necessary creation of a rabble. To constitute a proper attempt to “fail again, fail better,” diplomacy must, in this sense, although displaced constitute a tarrying with the immanent negative core of the modern state. This, however, is impossible as long as it understands its role as the mediator of desires and the alleviator of change. As such, it also renders the question of whether diplomacy can be a manager of change or only offers a way of maintaining the status quo irrelevant, since it already takes for granted the international level which, as such, diverts attention from the immanent problem. There is, in other words, no betterment that diplomacy can offer, since its only task is to conjure other (spectral) objects in the place of the original antagonism. Another, perhaps more fitting, formula that contemporary diplomacy could find in Žižek’s more recent work would be that of “traversing the fantasy.” Here, it is possible to claim that diplomacy might be saved, not by unveiling ideology in order to reach the reality hiding behind it, but rather to confront the fantasy as such. This opens up “the possibility of undermining the hold a fantasy exerts over us through the very overidentification with it, i.e., by way of embracing simultaneously, within the same space, the multitude of inconsistent fantasmatic elements” (Žižek 2009, 290). Žižek’s version of Lacanian ethics of going from desire to drive, consisting in an overidentification with the diplomatic law in order to traverse its fantasy, does, however, entail not a renewed, sustainable diplomacy, but an unsustainable ­diplomacy aiming at its own destruction. Diplomacy, in other words, would consist of the attempt to further the rot of the state brought about by the rabble. Hence, because of its functioning as a protection against the very foundation of the political, diplomacy does not appear as salvageable. The destructive tendency we have continuously located in the field of diplomacy – whether it be through Keyter’s suicide, the nuclear threat, Mr. Cortzen’s psychosis or the skull in Holbein’s ­painting – means that it will always find itself on the brink of death (either the death of the subject or of the other) and it is this threat of crisis that keeps it moving. This is the repetition of a certain gap or split to which we have continuously returned: the thing that returns to haunt diplomacy, threatening to destabilize it, be it in Kant’s unlawful revolutionaries, the young Nicolette Alford, the dangers of the jungle or the threat of rogue states with WMDs or populist leaders with Twitter accounts. What has been illustrated through all these examples is, thus, the functioning of the death drive. It is here that Freud’s reference to the death drive when speaking about war becomes understandable, since war, together with diplomacy, offers two ways in which the internal void, “the gap in being,” externalizes itself, or rather, attempts to forget that what appears as external is in reality internal. What the ethics of traversing the fantasy nevertheless imply is that which really is at stake here. This thesis neither constitutes an endeavor to elaborate an understanding of diplomacy aimed at providing active diplomats with practical

Final remarks  205 advice, nor are its aims to normatively prescribe what should be the purposes or principles of a proper diplomacy. Rather, it is first and foremost an attempt to understand the political predicament of our time through developing an understanding of one of its ideological formations: diplomacy. In this sense, the critique of ideology that diplomacy here has undergone aims at deafening “our ears (hypnotized by ideology’s siren song) so that we can start to hear with our eyes (in the mode of theoria)” (Žižek 2009, 155). The siren song Žižek refers to is that which emanates from the ISA, the sound of interpellation through which all of us today are to some extent turned into diplomatic subjects. The fact that we confront the world through the practice of mediation and negotiation, that we are forced to see ourselves as subjects with an individual desire in need of being managed and negotiated in relation to others by state experts, points to this aspect of our contemporary political predicament which we, following Žižek, have called the post-political. Through investigating the concept of diplomacy, the hope has been to draw out precisely the implications of allowing the ­diplomatic to offer a sort of backdrop to the sphere of politics: believing that a political community (both local and global) consists of individual entities with clearly defined and often opposing desires furthers not only the idea that today’s problems appear as a result of this natural competition between desires, but also that the only solution is to increase the power of those who manage the field in which we all compete, that is the market. What Foucault pointed out regarding Kant’s Perpetual Peace thus also holds for the contemporary ontologization of diplomacy in Political Science: behind ideas of the unavoidable mediation between peoples hides the market as the playing field upon which we confront one another (mediated by the diplomatic experts). The truth of the nature of diplomacy today is thus the same as it was in Kant’s time: it exists as a way of covering over the revolutionary potential of the part-of-no-part of the modern democratic state that Hegel named the rabble, the immanent negation calling for a new, more just and more equal organization of common life. For a final comment on the theory and methodology of this study, it can be helpful to begin by pointing out that engaging in Žižek’s critique of ideology, rather than writing on it, hopefully illustrated the drawbacks of defining him as a “punctual reader,” since this (whether we take it as a point of critique or as a strength) always runs the risk of turning him into just another proponent of a late capitalist ideology of letting a thousand perversions bloom. What has been shown is, in other words, the problem of the idea that Žižek is constantly modifying and transforming his concepts and theories in order to fit the specific historical situation to which any particular object of study belongs. Rather, through treating the different forms of diplomacy, the motor of change that reveals itself does not arise out of Žižek’s theoretical adaptions to new historical circumstances, but from the fact that what we have called the dialectics of the four discourses under capitalism is constantly transforming the object of study. The rapid change, in other words, reveals that nothing really happens, because at the core, the transformations simply cover over the constant repetition of the same impossibility of the central antagonism. Beginning with Žižek’s claim that

206   Final remarks the advent of capitalism meant that we are faced with a forever destabilized Master’s discourse – split into the discourses of Hysteric, University and (finally) the false Analyst – what the analysis has shown is how these transformations also mean that the central concepts that Žižek takes from Lacan keep changing. The move from one discourse to the other within archi-, ultra-, and post-political diplomacy also means that the concepts themselves are moving between the different positions in the schema of the discourse (agent, truth, other, and product), thus changing content in and through shifts in their formal positioning. These transformations are not so much a deficiency (or a strength) of Žižek’s theory, but something which must be inscribed into the object of study itself, in this case diplomacy. Only by trying to locate the different forms of negation active in the field of diplomacy at a given time (as well as showing how different formations relate to each other) has it been possible to locate the antagonism at its very heart, this part-of-no-part which always returns to haunt it, thus driving this interminable dialectical process. This is why we cannot be blinded by the seemingly endless stream of ideological content, but instead we need to focus on the form that Žižek offers, specifically the relationship between the Urverdrängung of the impossible One and the numerous impure negations that offer us a specific (although changing) social link. Through this connection between, on the one hand, the negations (denial, repression, disavowal, and foreclosure) as defenses against this primordially repressed impossibility and the social link that is offered to us in its stead (with a fantasy providing a scene explaining the failure of the relationship between the subject and the spectral object that constitutes its counterpart), it becomes possible to locate the source of that which haunted this social formation as the return of its repressed. What Žižek’s theory provides us with is, in other words, a way through which we might avoid getting stuck in the historical specificities (ultimately running the risk of historicism always stuck in the contingent contextual specificities) of different ­ideological symptoms, accompanying them with an antagonism that offers a trans-­ historical anchorage and, through the repetition of its impossibility, sustains them. History only continues because it is never complete, but the form this incompleteness takes is historically conditioned. By reading diplomacy as a Master Signifier constituting an impure negation, the hope is that we, by reading the parallax of the objective and subjective side of three specific configurations of diplomacy, are able to show that it is the impossibility of the state itself that, at the same time, both brings diplomacy about and also makes it impossible. In diplomacy, it is precisely this impure negation – that is, the externalization of the immanent antagonism of the state itself – that captures its nature. Thus, the true consequences of Hegel’s insight regarding war have already been pointed out by Marx and Engels in their early critique of the Young Hegelians in The Holy Family. Here, they devoted a passage to what they called the critical battle against the French Revolution: Napoleon represented the last battle of revolutionary terror against the bourgeois society which had been proclaimed by this same Revolution, and against its

Final remarks   207 policy. Napoleon, of course, already discerned the essence of the modern state; he understood that it is based on the unhampered development of bourgeois society, on the free movement of private interest, etc. He decided to recognise and protect this basis. He was no terrorist with his head in the clouds. Yet at the same time he still regarded the state as an end in itself and civil life only as a treasurer and his subordinate which must have no will of its own. He perfected the Terror by having permanent revolution replaced by permanent war. (Marx and Engels 1975, 123) Thus, the bourgeois state, as Hegel rightly pointed out, would stagnate and slowly wither away were it to get stuck in a state of perpetual peace. But instead of keeping the wheels turning by a permanent internal revolution, Napoleon (as Hegel had suggested) offered this energy an outlet through eternal war. To this, one could only add that, in the place of permanent revolution, the bourgeois state offers not only permanent war but also permanent diplomacy as the way to return to the previously existing order once the destructive threat of the rabble has been disposed of.

Bibliography Bjola, Corneliu. 2015. “Introduction: Making Sense of Digital Diplomacy.” In Digital Diplomacy: Theory and Practice, edited by Corneliu Bjola and Marcus Holmes, 1–10. London: Routledge. Constantinou, Costas M., and James Der Derian. 2010. “Sustaining Global Hope: Sovereignty, Power and the Transformation of Diplomacy.” In Sustainable Diplomacies, edited by Costas M. Constantinou and James Der Derian, 1–22. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Hegel, Georg Wilhelm Friedrich. 2015. Elements of the Philosophy of Right. Edited by Allen W. Wood. Translated by Hugh Barr Nisbet. Cambridge, Mass.: Cambridge University Press. Holmes, Marcus. 2015. “Conclusion: The Future of Digital Diplomacy.” In Digital Diplomacy: Theory and Practice, edited by Corneliu Bjola and Marcus Holmes, 199–206. London: Routledge. Kampf, Ronit, Ilan Manor, and Elad Segev. 2015. “Digital Diplomacy 2.0? A CrossNational Comparison of Public Engagement in Facebook and Twitter.” The Hague Journal of Diplomacy 10 (4): 331–362. https://doi.org/10.1163/1871191X-12341318. Marx, Karl, and Friedrich Engels. 1975. “The Holy Family, or Critique of Critical Criticism.” In Karl Marx and Frederick Engels: Collected Works, Volume 4, 1844–1845, translated by Richard Dixon and Clemens Dutt. London: Lawrence & Wishart. Mitzen, Jennifer. 2015. “Institutionalizing Peace and Reconciliation Diplomacy: ThirdParty Reconciliation as Systems Maintenance.” In Diplomacy and the Making of World Politics, edited by Ole Jacob Sending, Vincent Pouliot, and Iver B. Neumann, 140–167. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Žižek, Slavoj. 2009. The Parallax View. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press. Žižek, Slavoj. 2012. Less than Nothing: Hegel and the Shadow of Dialectical Materialism. London: Verso.

Index

Aeschines 5–7, 48 Althusser, Louis 9, 15–16, 30–35, 147; see also Darstellung; Ideological State Apparatus; interpellation; Žižek, Slavoj archi-politics 37, 41–42, 73, 78–80, 113, 157; see also post-politics; ultra-politics Aron, Raymond 112, 116, 135–136, 146, 150, 159 Brink, André P.: The Ambassador 113, 118–121; Keyter 121–130, 142–144, 145, 148, 187, 199–204; Van Heerden 133–135, 137–139, 141–142, 144–145, 173, 198–201 Brügger, Mads: The Ambassador 160–161, 164–167; Mr. Cortzen 170–173, 180–183, 185–188, 192, 199–201 Bull, Hedley 52, 116–117, 140–141 Burke, Edmund 59, 111, 141 Carr, E.H. 116–117, 123, 128 Constantinou, Costas M. 57, 62–63, 176–177, 188, 202 Darstellung 30–33; see also Althusser, Louis Demosthenes 5–7, 48 denial 36–37, 41–43, 82, 90–97, 105–107; see also disavowal; negation; rejection Der Derian, James 55–56, 60, 117, 161, 168, 202 descriptivism 9, 44, 59, 61–65, 72 digital diplomacy 157, 167–171, 196, 201–203 diplomacy: death of 7–10, 112–113, 148–149, 195–197; history of 2–4, 15, 49–57; name of 1–4, 58–66, 79, 104–107, 199–200; see also digital

diplomacy; diplomatization; representation diplomatization 176, 180–182, 190, 199, 203 disavowal 36–45, 107, 113, 133, 147; see also denial; negation; rejection discourse: Analyst’s 38–40, 141–143, 206; Capitalist 132, 141, 167–168; Master’s 40–44, 96, 114, 137–140, 206; of the Hysteric 40, 43, 121, 128, 132; of the University 40, 114, 121, 132–138, 142, 145 fantasy: as symbolic fiction 44, 85, 97, 123, 130, 148; as spectral apparition 44, 96–97, 138, 148; fantasmatic object 28, 30; see also symptom foreclosure see rejection Freud, Sigmund: on death drive 197, 204; moral masochism 103; negation 16, 36–43, 78, 167–168; on war 9, 16–29, 36–43, 78, 98, 103 Hegel, G.W.F.: necessity of war 9, 16–18, 23–27, 38, 197–199 Holbein, Hans 1–10, 27–28, 195, 201, 204 Idealism 72, 74, 123–129, 140, 156 Ideological State Apparatus (ISA) 8–9, 15–16, 29–36, 45–47, 65, 205; see also Althusser, Louis; ideology; interpellation ideology: critique of 8–9, 21–22, 27–28, 41; of diplomacy 72–73, 133, 143–145, 192; Žižekian theory of 30–35, 138, 169, 205; see also Althusser, Žižek, Slavoj interpellation 34, 47, 134, 186, 205; see also Althusser, Louis; ideology

Index   209 isolation 41, 113, 126, 184–185, 192, 198–199 James, Henry: The Ambassadors 9, 45, 72–73, 76–79; antagonism between Europe and the USA 77–78, 80–81, 88–89, 97–98, 106; and freedom 97–98; and psychoanalysis 102; Strether and Mrs Newsome 83–85, 87, 103–104; see also Žižek, Slavoj jouissance: and law 26–28, 173; limit of 114, 124–129, 158; object of 45, 93, 136–138, 144–145, 177–179 Jönsson, Christer 3, 50, 168, 179 Kant, Immanuel: analogy between states and individuals 90–92, 95–96; critique of revolutionaries 99–102; on the social contract 81–83, 85–86; Perpetual Peace 9, 71–76 Lacan, Jacques: Che vuoi? 35, 126; extimate 32; on Holbein’s The Ambassadors 3–5; on the letter 45, 73, 106, 201; see also discourse; jouissance; Möbius strip; negation; neurosis; perversion; psychosis; the Real; symptom Leira, Halvard 58, 62–66, 161 Marx, Karl 30–31, 38, 49, 58, 121, 206; see also ideology Master Signifier 16, 23, 26–27, 34, 36–45, 85 Mattingly, Garrett 51, 56 Morgenthau, Hans J. 112, 116–117, 135–136 Möbius strip 35, 41–45, 72, 113, 139, 192 naming 44, 60–65, 70–73, 90–91, 180, 196–197 Neumann, Iver B. 57, 117, 177 negation: Freudian 36–38, 40–46, 206; immanent 19–20, 24–25; see also denial; disavowal; rejection neurosis 36, 40, 42, 158, 176 Numelin, Ragnar 54–56, 60 parallax 21, 35, 40, 206 perversion 36–41, 114, 128, 142–144, 158–161, 205

point de capiton 23, 26, 36, 65, 200 post-politics 9–10, 37–41, 158–160, 167–172, 175, 185; see also archi‑politics; ultra-politics psychosis 36, 41, 175–176, 185, 204 rabble 18–20, 111, 148–149, 183, 189–191, 198–207 real, the 145, 158–161, 175, 184–192, 199–201 realism: Classical 9, 112, 114, 116–117, 123, 136–140; and law 123–125; and the people 123, 128–130 rejection 36–37, 158, 167, 175–178, 180, 191–192; see also denial; disavowal; negation Rancière, Jacques 16, 23, 36–42, 78–82, 112; see also Žižek, Slavoj representation: failure of 32, 35, 104, 114, 124–130, 192–196; gap in 4–8, 28, 73; of the subject 24–25, 200–201 Satow, Ernest 57, 61, 126 symptom: diplomacy’s 111–117, 127–130, 203; metaphor as 94–97, 99–102, 106–107; reading of 28, 34–38, 125–126; and the Real 158, 175–184 ultra-politics 37–41, 112–114, 149–150, 156–158, 190–192, 196–199; see also archi-politics; ultra-politics vanishing mediator 34–35, 99–101, 105, 143 Vorstellungsrepräsentanz 16, 24–28, 30–33, 36–37, 44, 191 Watson, Adam 112, 117, 136, 141, 147 Wight, Martin 55, 74, 112, 115–117, 124, 141 Žižek, Slavoj: on Althusser; 16, 30–31, 33–36, 47, 78; on descriptivism and anti-descriptivism 59–65; on Hegel and Lacan 21–29, 39–41, 132–133; on Ideology 8–9, 113, 205–206; Impossibility of the One 21–25, 35, 90, 104–105, 176, 192–200; on James 80, 93, 102; on Kant 71, 85; on Rancière 37–38, 41–42, 112, 168; see also ideology; parallax