The originality of the present situation, it seems to me, is that by remaining trapped at home while outside there is only the extension of police powers and the din of ambulances, we are collectively playing a caricatured form of the figure of biopolitics that seems to have come straight out of a Michel Foucault lecture. Including the obliteration of the very many invisible workers forced to work anyway so that others can continue to hole up in their homes – not to mention the migrants who, by definition, cannot be secluded in any home of their own. But this caricature is precisely the caricature of a time that is no longer ours.
There is a huge gulf between the state that is able to say “I protect you from life and death,” that is to say from infection by a virus whose trace is known only to scientists and whose effects can only be understood by collecting statistics, and the state that would dare to say “I protect you from life and death, because I maintain the conditions of habitability of all the living people on whom you depend.”
… there is another reason why the figure of the “war against the virus” is so unjustified: in the health crisis, it may be true that humans as a whole are “fighting” against viruses – even if they have no interest in us and go their way from throat to throat killing us without meaning to. The situation is tragically reversed in ecological change: this time, the pathogen whose terrible virulence has changed the living conditions of all the inhabitants of the planet is not the virus at all, it is humanity! But this does not apply to all humans, just those who make war on us without declaring war on us. For this war, the national state is as ill-prepared, as badly calibrated, as badly designed as possible because the battle fronts are multiple and cross each one of us. It is in this sense that the “general mobilization” against the virus does not prove in any way that we will be ready for the next one. It is not only the military that is always one war behind.
I keep trying to sit down and write about those extended police powers which, as they’re explained to me by friends and loved ones back in the UK, are scaring me way more than the virus, and to some extent more even than its economic aftermath; from my point of vantage in cautious and (seemingly) hyper-rational Sweden, it’s dizzying stuff. But my mind keeps sliding off the sheer, glassy enormity of it all; I can’t grip it in a way that gives me any analytical purchase. The last time I felt like this was the London riots of 2011. That seems a lifetime ago now.
Maybe Latour is right, and there’s no promise in the pandemic of a better state response to the environmental crisis. But that assumes a continuity of the state as currently constituted, and right now the continuity of any major institutional form seems like a pretty long-odds bet. What’s different now by comparison to 2011 is that the TINA doctrine of neoliberalism has been shown to be the fiction it had always been. I am obliged to believe that’s an opportunity for change, in order that I might work as if it is.