{"kind":"task","effective_mode":"full","benchmark":{"kind":"benchmark","effective_mode":"full","slug":"longbench-v2","formal_name":"LongBench v2","introduction":"LongBench v2 evaluates deep understanding and reasoning over long contexts through multiple-choice questions. Its official description lists 503 questions spanning tasks such as single-document and multi-document QA and code-repository understanding.","introduction_ja":"","introduction_en":"","category":"Category not supplied","task_count":null,"acquisition_status":"Acquisition status not supplied","official_url":"https://huggingface.co/datasets/zai-org/LongBench-v2","indexing_mode":"noindex","profile":{"resources":[],"task_format":"","scoring":"","metric":"","size":"","answer_access":"","license":"","citation":"","maintainer":"","released":"","why_hard":"","related":[]}},"task_id":"bc1efde4-7951-5c05-9119-da19e7cb6666","task_key":"train--66ed875e821e116aacb2023e","task_revision_id":"3","upstream_id":"66ed875e821e116aacb2023e","short_description":"On what issue do Wang Hui and Badiou have similar views?","config":"","split":"train","body":"{\"choice_A\":\"Fixed identities should be transformed into dynamic identities\",\"choice_B\":\"The problem with contemporary politics is devaluation and neutralization\",\"choice_C\":\"The problem with contemporary politics is cultural relativism\",\"choice_D\":\"Ideology promotes the formation of subjective consciousness\",\"context\":\"SAINT PAUL \\n\\n\\nSAINT PAUL \\nThe Foundation of \\nUniversalism \\nAlain Badiou \\nTranslated by Ray Brassier \\nSTANFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS \\nSTANFORD, CALIFORNIA \\n\\n\\nStanford University Press \\nStanford, California \\nwww.sup.org \\n© 2003 by the Board of \\nTrustees of the Leland Stanford Junior University. All \\nrights reserved. \\nOriginally published as Saint PauL: La \\nfondation de L'universaLisme, © 1997 by \\nPresses Universitaires de France \\nAssistance for the translation was provided by the French Ministry of Culture. \\nPrinted in the United States of America on acid-free, archival-qualiLY paper. \\nLibrary of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data \\nBadiou, Alain. \\n[Saint Paul. English] \\nSaint Paul: the foundation of universalism / Alain Badiou; translated by Ray \\nBrassier. \\np. cm.-(Cultural memory in the present) \\nISBN 0-8047-4470-X (cloth: aile. paper)-ISBN 0-8047-4471-8 (alk. paper) \\n1. Paul, the Apostle, Saint. \\n2. Bible N.T. Epistles ofPaul-Criticisl11, inter-\\npretation, etc. \\n3. Universalism-Biblical teaching. \\n1. Title. \\nII. Series. \\nBS2650·52.B3313 2003 \\nOriginal printing 2003 \\nLast figure below indicates year of this printing: \\n12 \\nII \\n10 \\n09 \\n08 \\n07 \\n06 \\n2002154091 \\nDesigned and typeset at Stanford University Press in II1I3. \\n5 Garamond \\n\\n\\nContents \\nT\\nranslator's Note \\nlX \\nPrologue \\nI \\nI \\nPaul: Our Contemporary \\n4 \\n2 \\nWho Is Paul? \\n16 \\n3 \\nTexts and Contexts \\n31 \\n4 \\nTheory of Discourses \\n40 \\n5 \\nThe Division of the Subject \\n55 \\n6 \\nThe Antidialectic of Death and Resurrection \\n65 \\n7 \\nPaul Against the Law \\n75 \\n8 \\nLove as Universal Power \\n86 \\n9 \\nHope \\n93 \\n10 \\nUniversality and the Traversal of Differences \\n98 \\nII \\nIn Conclusion \\n107 \\n\\n\\nTranslator's Note \\nIn rendering quotations from Paul into English, I consulted the \\nAuthorized, Revised Standard, and New Revised Standard Versions of \\nhis \\nepistles. Since my aim was to stick as closely as possible to Badiou's own \\nFrench rendition, I found the best results were obtained through a selec­\\ntive combination of the Authorized and Revised Standard Versions. I al­\\ntered or adjusted formulations from both whenever necessary. I trans­\\nlated the quotations from Pascal's Pensees in Chapter 4 myself. For the \\nNietzsche quotations in Chapters 5 and 6, I used R. ]. Hollingdale's \\ntranslation of The Anti-Christ (Harmondsworth, Middlesex: Penguin, \\n1990). These were slightly altered to fit the French version used by Ba­\\ndiou. \\nThis is a book principally concerned with using Paul to redefine the \\nphilosophical category of \\n\\\"the subject\\\" as a \\\"universal singularity.\\\" Given \\nthis putative universality, many readers will balk at the persistent use of \\nthe masculine pronoun \\\"he\\\" to ref\\ner to this newly defined \\\"subject.\\\" Al­\\nthough su\\njet in French is a masculine noun for which the corresponding \\nmasculine pronoun if (which means both \\\"he\\\" and \\\"it\\\") is habitually sub­\\nstituted, it has become customary in English translations of contempo­\\nrary French philosophical texts to correct this gender bias by stipulating \\n\\\"he or she\\\" (or \\\"it\\\") whenever the French has if \\nstanding in f\\nor a term like \\nsu\\njet. However, in the context of the present work, two considerations \\nrendered this customary tactic particularly problematic: the first, practi­\\ncal and stylistic; the second, substantive and thematic. First, from a \\npurely practical point of view, there were too many sentences in which \\nthe concatenation of \\nabstract nouns meant that using the pronoun \\\"it\\\" to \\nrefer to \\\"the subject\\\" would have created ambiguity at best, unacceptable \\n\\n\\nx \\nTranslator's Note \\nconfusion at worst. In addition, there were equally many instances in \\nwhich substituting \\\"he or she\\\" for \\\"it\\\" would have destroyed the rhythm, \\npoise, and symmetry of Badiou's meticulously constructed sentences. Al­\\nthough such practical and stylistic considerations invited a disinterested \\nchoice between the consistent use of either \\\"he\\\" or \\\"she,\\\" it was the sec­\\nond, more substantive and thematic point of view that seemed to render \\nthe use of \\nthe masculine pronoun appropriate and that finally persuaded \\nme to opt for \\\"he.\\\" I refer here to Badiou's explicit comments throughout \\nChapters 4, 5, and 6 about the \\\"filiation\\\" of the Pauline subject, a filiation \\nnecessitating the latter's unequivocal characterization as a Son (in French, \\nfiliation already contains the word fils, \\\"son\\\"). \\nI would like to thank Alberto Toscano and Peter Hallward for their \\nfriendly but indispensable advice. \\nRAY BRASSIER \\n\\n\\nPrologue \\nStrange enterprise. For a long time, this figure has accom \\npanied me, \\nalong with others: Mallarme, Cantor, Archimedes, Plato, Robespierre, \\nConrad ... (and this is without venturing into our own century). Fifteen \\nyears ago, I wrote a play, The Incident at Antioch, whose heroine was \\nnamed Paula. The change of \\nsex probably prevented too explicit an iden­\\ntification. For me, truth be told, Paul is not an apostle or a saint. I care \\nnothing for the Good News he declares, or the cult dedicated to him. But \\nhe is a subjective figure of primary importance. I have always read the \\nepistles the way one returns to those classic texts with which one is par­\\nticularly familiar; their paths well worn, their details abolished, their \\npower preserved. No transcendence, nothing sacred, perfect equality of \\nthis work with every other, the moment it touches me personally. A man \\nemphatically inscribed these phrases, these vehement and tender ad­\\ndresses, and yve may draw upon them freely, without devotion or repul­\\nsion. All the more so in my case, since, irreligious by heredity, and even \\nencouraged in the desire to crush the clerical infamy by my four grand­\\nparents, all of whom were teachers, I encountered the epistles late, the \\nway one encounters curious texts whose poetry astonishes. \\nBasically, I have never really connected Paul with religion. It is not \\naccording to this register, or to bear witness to any sort of faith, or even \\nantifaith, that I have, for a long time, been interested in him. No more \\n\\n\\n2 \\nPrologue \\nso, to tell the truth-but the impression was less striking-than I seized \\nhold of Pascal, Kierkegaard, or Claudel, on the basis of what was explic­\\nitly Christian in their discourse. Anyway, the crucible in which what will \\nbecome a work of art and thought burns is brimful with nameless impu­\\nrities; it comprises obsessions, beliefs, infantile puzzles, various perver­\\nsions, undivulgeable memories, haphazard reading, and quite a few idio­\\ncies and chimeras. Analyzing this alchemy is of little use. \\nFor me, Paul is a poet-thinker of the event, as well as one who prac­\\ntices and states the invariant traits of what can be called the militant fig­\\nure. He brings forth the entirely human connection, whose destiny fasci­\\nnates me, berween the general idea of a rupture, an overturning, and that \\nof a thought-practice that is this rupture's subjective materiality. \\nIf today I wish to retrace in a few pages the singularity of this con­\\nnection in Paul, it is probably because there is currently a widespread \\nsearch for a new militant figure-even if it takes the form of denying its \\npossibility-called upon to succeed the one installed by Lenin and the \\nBolsheviks at the beginning of the century, which can be said to have \\nbeen that of the party militant. \\nWhen a step forward is the order of the day, one may, among other \\nthings, find assistance in the greatest step back. Whence this reactivation \\nof Paul. I am not the first to risk the comparison that malces of him a \\nLenin for whom Christ will have been the equivocal Marx. \\nMy intention, clearly, is neither historicizing nor exegetical. It is \\nsubjective through and through. I have confined myself strictly to those \\ntexts of Paul that have been authenticated by contemporary scholarship \\nand to the relation they bear to my thought. \\nFor the Greek original, I used the Novum Testamentum Graece, in \\nNestle-Aland's critical edition, published by Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft \\n111\\n 1993. \\nThe basic French text, whose formulations I have sometimes al­\\ntered, is that by Louis Segond, Le Nouveau Testament, published by the \\nTrinitarian Bible Society (1993 edition). \\nReferences to the epistles follow the customary arrangement by \\nchapter and verse. Thus, Rom. 1.25 means: epistle to the Romans, chap­\\nter I, verse 25. Similarly, we will say Gal. for the epistle to the Galatians, \\nCor. I and Cor. II for the rwo epistles to the Corinthians, Philipp. for the \\n\\n\\nPrologue \\n3 \\nepistle to the Philippians, and Thess. I for the first epistle to the Thessa­\\nlonians. \\nFor anyone interested in further reading, I would at least like to in­\\ndicate rwo works from among the colossal secondary literature on Paul: \\nStanislas Breton's robust little book, Saint Paul (Paris: Presses Uni­\\nversitaire de France, 2000). \\nGunther Bornkamm's P\\naul, translated by D.M.G. Stalker (Min­\\nneapolis: Fortress Press, 1995). \\nA Catholic, a Protestant. May they form a triangle with the atheist. \\n\\n\\n1 \\nPaul: Our Contemporary \\nWhy Saint Paul? Why solicit this \\\"apostle\\\" who is all the more sus­\\npect for having, it seems, proclaimed himself such and whose name is fre­\\nquently tied to Christianity's least open, most institutional aspects: the \\nChurch, moral discipline, social conservatism, suspiciousness toward \\nJews? How are we to inscribe this name into the development of \\nour proj­\\nect: to refound a tlleory of the Subject that subordinates its existence to \\nthe aleatory dimension of \\ntile event as well as to the pure contingency of \\nmultiple-being without sacrificing the theme of \\nfreedom? \\nSimilarly, one will ask: What use do we claim to make of \\nthe appa­\\nratus of \\nChristian faith, an apparatus from which it seems strictly impos­\\nsible to dissociate the figure and texts of Paul? Why invoke and analyze \\nthis fable? Let us be perfectly clear: so far as we are concerned, what we \\nare dealing with here is precisely a fable. And singularly so in the case of \\nPaul, who for crucial reasons reduces Christianity to a single statement: \\nJesus is resurrected. Yet this is precisely a fabulous element [point \\nfabu­\\nleux], since all the rest, birth, teachings, death, might after all be upheld. \\nA \\\"fable\\\" is that part of a narrative that, so far as we are concerned, fails \\nto touch on any Real, unless it be by virtue of that invisible and indirectly \\naccessible residue sticking to every obvious imaginary. In this regard, it is \\nto its element of fabulation [point de \\nfable] alone that Paul reduces the \\nChristian narrative, with the strength of one who knows that in holding \\n\\n\\nPaul: Our Contemporary \\n5 \\nfast to this point as real, one is unburdened of all the imaginary that sur­\\nrounds it. If it is possible for us to speak of belief from the outset (but \\nPaul's entire problem concerns the question of belief or faith, or of that \\nwhich is presupposed beneath the word pistis), let us say that so far as we \\nare concerned it is rigorously impossible to believe in the resurrection of \\nthe crucified. \\nPaul is a distant figure in a threefold sense: his historical site; his \\nrole as Church founder; and his provocative centering of thought upon \\nits fabulous element. \\nWe are duty-bound to explain why we are investing this distance \\nwith the weight of \\na philosophical proximity, why the fabulous forcing of \\nthe real provides us with mediation when it is a question of restoring the \\nuniversal to its pure secularity, here and now. \\nWe are doubtless assisted in this by the fact that-for example­\\nHegel, Auguste Comte, Nietzsche, Freud, Heidegger, and again in our \\nown time, Jean-Franyois Lyotard, have also found it necessary to examine \\nthe figure of Paul and have done so, moreover, always in terms of some \\nextreme dispositions (foundational or regressive, destinal or forgetful, ex­\\nemplary or catastrophic) in order to organize their own speculative dis­\\ncourses. \\nFor our own parr, what we shall focus on in Paul's work is a singu­\\nlar connection, which it is formally possible to disjoin from the fable and \\nof which Paul is, strictly speaking, the inventor: the connection that es­\\ntablishes a passage between a proposition concerning the subject and an \\ninterrogation concerning the law. Let us say that, for Paul, it is a matter \\nof \\ninvestigating which law is capable of \\nstructuring a subject devoid of \\nall \\nidentity and suspended to an event whose only \\\"proof\\\" lies precisely in \\nits having been declared by a subject. \\nWhat is essential for us is that this paradoxical connection between \\na subject withom identity and a law without support provides the foun­\\ndation for the possibility of a universal teaching within history itself. \\nPaul's unprecedented gesture consists in subtracting truth from the com­\\nmunitarian grasp, be it that of \\na people, a city, an empire, a territory, or a \\nsocial class. What is true (or just; they are the same in this case) cannot be \\nreduced to any objective aggregate, either by its cause or by its destina­\\ntion. \\n\\n\\n6 \\nPaul: Our Contemporary \\nIt will be objected that, in the present case, for us \\\"truth\\\" designates \\na mere fable. Granted, but what is important is the subjective gesture \\ngrasped in its founding power with respect to the generic conditions of \\nuniversality. That the content of \\nthe fable must be abandoned leaves as its \\nremainder the form of these conditions and, in particular, the ruin of \\nevery attempt to assign the discourse of truth to preconstituted historical \\naggregates. \\nTo sharply separate each truth procedure from the cultural \\\"his­\\ntoricity\\\" wherein opinion presumes to dissolve it: such is the operation in \\nwhich Paul is our guide. \\nTo rethink this gesture, to unravel its twists and turns, to enliven \\nits singularity, its instituting force, is without doubt a contemporary ne­\\ncessity. \\nWhat, in effect, does our contemporary situation consist of? The \\nprogressive reduction of the question of truth (and hence, of thought) to \\na linguistic form, judgment-a point on which Anglophone analytical \\nideology and the hermeneutical tradition both concur (the analytic! \\nhermeneutic doublet is the straightjacket of contemporary academic phi­\\nlosophy)-ends up in a cultural and historical relativism that today con­\\nstitutes at once a topic of public opinion, a \\\"political\\\" motivation, and a \\nframework for research in the human sciences. The extreme forms of this \\nrelativism, already at work, claim to relegate mathematics itself to an \\n\\\"Occidental\\\" setup, to which any number of obscurantist or symbolically \\ntrivial apparatuses could be rendered equivalent, provided one is able to \\nname the subset of humanity that supports this apparatus, and, better \\nstill, that one has reasons for believing this subset to be made up of vic­\\ntims. All access to the universal, which neither tolerates assignation to \\nthe particular, nor maintains any direct relation with the status­\\nwhether it be that of dominator or victim-of the sites from which its \\nproposition emerges, collapses when confronted with this intersection \\nbetween culturalist ideology and the \\\"victimise\\\" [victimairel conception \\nof man. \\nWhat is the real unifying factor behind this attempt to promote the \\ncultural virtue of oppressed subsets, this invocation of language in order \\nto extol communitarian particularisms (which, besides language, always \\nultimately refer back to race, religion, or gender)? It is, evidently, mone-\\n\\n\\n-\\n---\\n ----\\nPaul: Our Contemporary \\n7 \\ntary abstraction, whose false universality has absolutely no difficulty ac­\\ncommodating the kaleidoscope of communitarianisms. The lengthy years \\nof communist dictatorship will have had the merit of showing that fi­\\nnancial globalization, the absolute sovereignty of capital's empty univer­\\nsality, had as its only genuine enemy another universal project, albeit a \\ncorrupt and bloodstained one: that only Lenin and Mao truly frightened \\nthose who proposed to boast unreservedly about the merits of liberalism \\nand the general equivalent, or the democratic virtues of commercial com­\\nmunication. The senescent collapse of the USSR, the paradigm of social­\\nist States, provisionally suspended fear, unleashed empty abstraction, de­\\nbased thought in general. And it is certainly not by renouncing the \\nconcrete universality of truths in order to affirm the rights of \\\"minori­\\nties,\\\" be they racial, religious, national, or sexual, that the devastation will \\nbe slowed down. No, we will not allow the rights of true-thought to have \\nas their only instance monetarist free exchange and its mediocre political \\nappendage, capitalist-parliamentarianism, whose squalor is ever more \\npoorly dissimulated behind the fine word \\\"democracy.\\\" \\nThis is why Paul, himself the contemporary of a monumental fig­\\nure of the destruction of all politics (the beginnings of that military des­\\npotism known as \\\"the Roman Empire\\\"), interests us in the highest de­\\ngree. He is the one who, assigning to the universal a specific connection \\nof law and the subject, asks himself with the most extreme rigor what \\nprice is to be paid for this assignment, by the law as well as by the subject. \\nThis interrogation is precisely our own. Supposing we were able to re­\\nfound the connection between truth and the subject, then what conse­\\nquences must we have the strength to hold fast to, on the side of truth \\n(evental [evenementiellel and hazardous) as well as on the side of the sub­\\nject (rare and heroic)? \\nIt is by confronting this question, and no other, that philosophy \\ncan assume its temporal condition without becoming a means of cover­\\ning up the worst. That it can measure up to the times in which we live \\notherwise than by Battering their savage inertia. \\nIn the case of our own country, France, of the public destiny of its \\nState, what can we point to in the way of a noticeable tendency of the last \\nfifteen years? Notwithstanding, of course, the constant expansion of cap­\\nital's automatic functioning that shelters behind the signifiers of Europe \\n\\n\\n8 \\nPaul: Our Contemporary \\nand liberalism, an expansion that, being the law of the world-market, \\ncannot be taken as specific to our site. \\nAlas, the only thing we can point to by way of reply to this question \\nis the permanent installation of Le Pen's party,* a truly national singular­\\nity, whose equivalent we have to go all the way to Austria to find, hardly \\na flattering comparison. And what constitutes this party's unique maxim? \\nThe maxim that none of the parliamentary parties dare directly oppose, \\nso that they all vote for or tolerate those increasingly villainous laws that \\nare implacably deduced from it? The maxim in question is: \\\"France for \\nthe French.\\\" In the case of the State, this leads back to what served as the \\nparadoxical name given by Petain to a puppet state, zealous servant of the \\nNazi occupier: the French State. How does the noxious question \\\"What \\nis a French person?\\\" come to install itself at the heart of the public \\nsphere? But everyone knows there is no tenable answer to this question \\nother than through the persecution of those people arbitrarily designated \\nas the non-French. The unique political \\nreal proper to the word \\\"French,\\\" \\nwhen the latter is upheld as a founding category in the State, is the in­\\ncreasingly insistent installation of relentlessly discriminatory measures \\ntargeting people who are here, or who are trying to live here. And it is \\nparticularly striking that this persecutory real proper to identitarian logic \\n(the Law is only valid for the French) gathers under the same banner-as \\nis shown by the sorry affair of the flulard** \\n-resigned advocates of capi­\\ntalist devastation (persecution is inevitable because unemployment pre­\\ncludes all hospitality) and advocates of a \\\"French republic\\\" as ghostly as \\nit is exceptional (foreigners are only tolerable so long as they \\\"integrate\\\" \\nthemselves into the magnificent model presented to them by our pure in-\\n*A reference to Jean-Marie Le Pen's Front National, an extreme right-wing \\nparty that continues to enjoy significant electoral success in France.-Trans. \\n** \\nL'affaire du \\nfoulard refers to a controversy over the wearing of the tradi­\\ntional Muslim headscarf (foulard) by young Arab women in French secondary \\nschools. Since the French educational system explicitly prohibits the wearing of \\nreligious garb or paraphernalia in class, some teachers protested and refused to \\nteach students who insisted on wearing the headscarf, arguing that tolerating the \\ninfraction of one ethnic group provided a dangerous precedent that could only \\nincite students of other religious denominations to follow suit, thereby under­\\nmining the French educational system's secular ethos.-Trans. \\n\\n\\nPaul: Our Contemporary \\n9 \\nstitutions, our astonishing systems of education and representation). \\nProof that, so far as peoples' real lives and what happens to them is con­\\ncerned, there exists a despicable complicity berween the globalized logic \\nof capital and French identitarian fanaticism. \\nWhat is being constructed before our very eyes is the communita­\\nrization of the public sphere, the renunciation of the law's transcendent \\nneutrality. The State is supposed to assure itself primarily and perma­\\nnently of the genealogically, religiously, and racially verifiable identity of \\nthose for whom it is responsible. It is required to define rwo, perhaps \\neven three, distinct regions of the law, according to whether the latter are \\ntruly French, integrated or integratable foreigners, or finally foreigners \\nwho are declared to be un \\nintegrated, or even unintegratable. The law \\nthereby falls under the control of a \\\"national\\\" model devoid of any real \\nprinciple, unless it be that of the persecutions it initiates. Abandoning all \\nuniversal principle, identitarian verification-which is never anything \\nbut police monitoring-comes to take precedence over the definition or \\napplication of the law. This means that, just as under Petain, when min­\\nisters saw nothing wrong in surreptitiously defining the Jew as prototype \\nof the non-French, all legislation would be accompanied by the required \\nidentitarian protocols, and subsets of the population would come to be \\ndefined each time by their special status. This arrangement is taking its \\ncourse, as successive governments each bring to it their own special \\ntouch. We are dealing with a rampant \\\"Petainization\\\" of the State. \\nHow clearly Paul's statement rings out under these conditions! A \\ngenuinely stupefying statement when one lmows the rules of the ancient \\nworld: \\\"There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, \\nthere is neither male nor female\\\" (Gal. 3.28)! And how appropriate, for \\nwe who will unproblematically replace God by this or that truth, and \\nGood by the service this truth requires, the maxim \\\"Glory, honor, and \\npeace for every one that does good, to the Jew first and also to the Greek. \\nFor God shows no partiality\\\" (Rom. 2.10). \\nOur world is in no way as \\\"complex\\\" as those who wish to ensure \\nits perpetuation claim. It is even, in its broad outline, perfectly simple. \\nOn the one hand, there is an extension of \\nthe automatisms of cap­\\nital, fulfilling one of Marx's inspired predictions: the world finally config­\\nured, but as a market, as a world-market. This configuration imposes the \\n\\n\\n10 \\nPaul: Our Contemporary \\nrule of an abstract homogenization. Everything that circulates falls under \\nthe unity of a count, while inversely, only what lets itself be counted in \\nthis way can circulate. Moreover, this is the norm that illuminates a par­\\nadox few have pointed out: in the hour of \\ngeneralized circulation and the \\nphantasm of \\ninstantaneous cultural communication, laws and regulations \\nforbidding the circulation of \\npersons are being multiplied everywhere. So \\nit is that in France, never have fewer foreigners settled than in the recent \\nperiod! Free circulation of what lets itself be counted, yes, and above all \\nof capital, which is the count of the count. Free circulation of that un­\\ncountable infinity constituted by a singular human life, never! For capi­\\ntalist monetary abstraction is certainly a singularity, but a singularity that \\nhas no consideration for any singularity whatsoever: singularity as indiffer­\\nent to the persistent infinity of existence as it is to the evental becoming \\nof truths. \\nOn the other side, there is a process of fragmentation into closed \\nidentities, and the culturalist and relativist ideology that accompanies this \\nfragmentation. \\nBoth processes are perfectly intertwined. For each identification \\n(the creation or cobbling together of identity) creates a figure that pro­\\nvides a material for its investment by the market. There is nothing more \\ncaptive, so far as commercial investment is concerned, nothing more \\namenable to the invention of new figures of \\nmonetary homogeneity, than \\na community and its territory or territories. The semblance of a non­\\nequivalence is required so that equivalence itself can constitute a process. \\nWhat inexhaustible potential for mercantile investments in this up­\\nsurge-taking the form of communities demanding recognition and so­\\ncalled cultural singularities-of women, homosexuals, the disabled, \\nArabs! And these infinite combinations of \\npredicative traits, what a god­\\nsend! Black homosexuals, disabled Serbs, Catholic pedophiles, moderate \\nMuslims, married priests, ecologist yuppies, the submissive unemployed, \\nprematurely aged youth! Each time, a social image authorizes new prod­\\nucts, specialized magazines, improved shopping malls, \\\"free\\\" radio sta­\\ntions, targeted advertising networks, and finally, heady \\\"public debates\\\" \\nat peak viewing times. Deleuze put it perfectly: capitalist deterritorializa­\\ntion requires a constant reterritorialization. Capital demands a perma­\\nnent creation of subjective and territorial identities in order for its prin-\\n\\n\\nPaul: Our Contem\\nporar\\ny \\nII \\nciple of movement to homogenize its space of action; identities, more­\\nover, that never demand anything but the right to be exposed in the same \\nway as others to the uniform prerogatives of the market. The capitalist \\nlogic of the general equivalent and the identitarian and cultural logic of \\ncommunities or minorities form an articulated whole. \\nThis articulation plays a constraining role relative to every truth \\nprocedure. It is organically without truth. \\nOn the one hand, every truth procedure breaks with the axiomatic \\nprinciple that governs the situation and organizes its repetitive series. A \\ntruth procedure interrupts repetition and can theref\\nore not be supported \\nby the abstract permanence proper to a unity of the count. A truth is al­\\nways, according to the dominant law of the count, subtracted from the \\ncount. Consequently, no truth can be sustained through capital's homo­\\ngeneous expansion. \\nBut, on the other hand, neither can a truth procedure take root in \\nthe element of \\nidentity. For if \\nit is true that every truth erupts as singular, \\nits singularity is immediately universalizable. Universalizable singularity \\nnecessarily breaks with identitarian singularity. \\nThat there are intertwined histories, different cultures and, more \\ngenerally, differences already abundant in one and the \\\"same\\\" individual, \\nthat the world is multicolored, that one must let people live, eat, dress, \\nimagine, love in whichever way they please, is not the issue, whatever cer­\\ntain disingenuous simpletons may want us to think. Such liberal truisms \\nare cheap, and one would only like to see those who proclaim them not \\nreact so violently whenever confronted with the slightest serious attempt \\nto dissent from their own puny liberal diff\\nerence. Contemporary cos­\\nmopolitanism is a beneficent reality. We simply ask that its partisans not \\nget themselves worked up at the sight of a young veiled woman, lest we \\nbegin to fear that what they really desire, far from a real web of \\nshifting \\ndifferences, is the uniform dictatorship of what they take to be \\\"moder­\\nnity.\\\" \\nIt is a question of knowing what identitarian and communitarian \\ncategories have to do with truth procedures, with political procedures for \\nexample. We reply: these categories must be absented from the process, \\nfailing which no truth has the slightest chance of establishing its persist­\\nence and accruing its immanent infinity. We know, moreover, that the \\n\\n\\n12 \\nPaul: Our Contemporar\\ny \\nmost consequential instances of identitarian politics, such as Nazism, are \\nbellicose and criminal. The idea that one can wield such categories inno­\\ncently, even in the form of French \\\"republican\\\" identity, is inconsistent. \\nOne will, of necessity, end up oscillating between the abstract universal of \\ncapital and localized persecutions. \\nThe contemporary world is thus doubly hostile to truth procedures. \\nThis hostility betrays itself though nominal occlusions: where the name \\nof a truth procedure should obtain, another, which represses it, holds \\nsway. The name \\\"culture\\\" comes to obliterate that of \\\"art.\\\" The word \\n\\\"technology\\\" obliterates the word \\\"science.\\\" The word \\\"management\\\" \\nobliterates the word \\\"politics.\\\" \\nThe word \\\"sexuality\\\" obliterates love. The \\n\\\"culture-technology-management-sexuality\\\" system, which has the im­\\nmense merit of being homogeneous to the market, and all of whose terms \\ndesignate a category of commercial presentation, constitutes the modern \\nnominal occlusion of the \\\"art-science-politics-Iove\\\" system, which identi­\\nfies truth procedures typologically. \\nNow, far from returning toward an appropriation of this typology, \\nidentitarian or minoritarian logic merely proposes a variant on its nomi­\\nnal occlusion by capital. It inveighs against every generic concept of at·t, \\nputting the concept of culture in its place, conceived as culture of the \\ngroup, as the subjective or representative glue for the group's existence, a \\nculture that addresses only itself and remains potentially nonuniversaliz­\\nable. Moreover, it does not hesitate to posit that this culture's constitutive \\nelements are only fully comprehensible on the condition that one belong \\nto the subset in question. Whence catastrophic pronouncements of the \\nsort: only a homosexual can \\\"understand\\\" what a homosexual is, only an \\nArab can understand what an Arab is, and so forth. If, as we believe, only \\ntruths (thought) allow man to be distinguished from the human animal \\nthat underlies him, it is no exaggeration to say that such minoritarian \\npronouncements are genuinely barbaric. In the case of science, cultural­\\nism promotes the technical particularity of subsets to the equivalent of \\nscientific thought, so that antibiotics, Shamanism, the laying on of \\nhands, or emollient herbal teas all become of equal worth. In the case of \\npolitics, the consideration of identitarian traits provides the basis for de­\\ntermination, be it the state's or the protestor's, and finally it is a matter of \\nstipulating, through law or brute force, an authoritarian management of \\n\\n\\nPaul: Our Contemporary \\n13 \\nthese traits (national, religious, sexual, and so on) considered as dominant \\npolitical operators. Lastly, in the case of love, there will be the comple­\\nmentary demands, either for the genetic right to have such and such a \\nform of specialized sexual behavior recognized as a minoritarian identity; \\nor for the return, pure and simple, to archaic, culturally established con­\\nceptions, such as that of strict conjugality, the confinement of women, \\nand so forth. It is perfectly possible to combine the two, as becomes ap­\\nparent when homosexual protest concerns the right to be reincluded in \\nthe grand traditionalism of marriage and the family, or to take responsi­\\nbility for the defrocking of a priest with the Pope's blessing. \\nThe two components of the articulated whole (abstract homogene­\\nity of capital and identitarian protest) are in a relation of reciprocal main­\\ntenance and mirroring. Who will maintain the self-evident superiority of \\nthe competent-cultivated-sexually liberated manager? But who will de­\\nfend the corrupt-religious-polygamist terrorist? Or eulogize the cultural­\\nmarginal-homeopathic-media-friendly transsexual? Each figure gains its \\nFotating legitimacy from the other's discredit. Yet at the same time, each \\ndraws on the resources of the other, since the transformation of the most \\ntypical, most recent communitarian identities into advertising selling \\npoints and salable images has for its counterpart the ever more refined \\ncompetence that the most insular or most violent groups display when it \\ncomes to speculating on the financial markets or maintaining a large-scale \\narms commerce. \\nBreaking with all this (neither monetary homogeneity nor identi­\\ntarian protest; neither the abstract universality of capital nor the particu­\\nlarity of interests proper to a subset), our question can be clearly formu­\\nlated: What are the conditions for a universal singularity? \\nIt is on this point that we invoke Saint Paul, for this is precisely his \\nquestion. What does Paul want? Probably to drag the Good News (the \\nGospels) out from the rigid enclosure within which its restriction to the \\nJewish community would confine it. But equally, never to let it be deter­\\nmined by the available generalities, be they statist [hatiquesJ or ideologi­\\ncal. Statist generality belongs to Roman legalism, and to Roman citizen­\\nship in particular, to its conditions and the rights associated with it. \\nAlthough himself a Roman citizen, and proud of it, Paul will never allow \\nany legal categories to identifY the Christian subject. Slaves, women, peo-\\n\\n\\n14 \\nPaul: Our Contemporary \\npie of every profession and nationality will therefore be admitted without \\nrestriction or privilege. As for ideological generality, it is obviously repre­\\nsented by the philosophical and moral discourse of the Greeks. Paul will \\nestablish a resolute distance to this discourse, which is for him the coun­\\nterpoise to a conservative vision of \\nJewish law. Ultimately, it is a case of \\nmobilizing a universal singularity both against the prevailing abstractions \\n(legal then, economic now), and against communitarian or particularist \\nprotest. \\nPaul's general procedure is the following: if \\nthere has been an event, \\nand if \\ntruth consists in declaring it and then in being faithful to this dec­\\nlaration, two consequences ensue. First, since truth is evental, or of the \\norder of \\nwhat occurs, it is singular. It is neither structural, nor axiomatic, \\nnor legal. No available generality can account for it, nor structure the \\nsubject who claims to follow in its wal(e. Consequently, there cannot be \\na law of \\ntruth. Second, truth being inscribed on the basis of \\na declaration \\nthat is in essence subjective, no preconstituted subset can support it; \\nnothing communitarian or historically established can lend its substance \\nto the process of \\ntruth. T\\nruth is diagonal relative to every communitarian \\nsubset; it neither claims authority f\\nrom, nor (this is obviously the most \\ndelicate point) constitutes any identity. It is offered to all, or addressed to \\neveryone, without a condition of \\nbelonging being able to limit this off\\ner, \\nor this address. \\nOnce the texts transmitted to us are all seen as local interventions, \\nand hence governed by localized tactical stakes, Paul's problematic, how­\\never sinewy its articulation, implacably follows the requirements of truth \\nas universal singularity: \\n1. The Christian subject does not preexist the event he declares \\n(Christ's resurrection). Thus, the extrinsic conditions of his exis­\\ntence or identity will be argued against. He will be required to be \\nneither Jewish (or circumcised), nor Greek (or wise) . This is the \\ntheory of discourses (there are three: the Jewish, the Greek, the \\nnew) . No more than he will be required to be from this or that so­\\ncial class (theory of equality before truth), or this or that sex (the­\\nory of \\nwomen). \\n2. T\\nruth is entirely subjective (it is of the order of a declaration that \\ntestifies to a conviction relative to the event). Thus, every sub-\\n\\n\\nPaul: Our Contemporar\\ny \\n15 \\nsumption of \\nits becoming under a law will be \\nargued against. It \\nwill \\nbe necessary to proceed at once via a radical critique ofJewish law, \\nwhich has become obsolete and harmful, and of Greek law as the \\nsubordination of \\ndestiny to the cosmic order, which has never been \\nanything but a \\\"learned\\\" ignorance of the paths of salvation. \\n3. Fidelity to the declaration is crucial, for truth is a process, and \\nnot an illumination. In order to think it, one requires three con­\\ncepts: one that names the subject at the point of declaration (pistis, \\ngenerally translated as \\\"faith,\\\" but which is more appropriately ren­\\ndered as \\\"conviction\\\"); one that names the subject at the point of \\nhis conviction's militant address (agape, generally translated as \\n\\\"charity,\\\" but more appropriately rendered as \\\"love\\\"); lastly, one \\nthat names the subject according to the force of displacement con­\\nferred upon him through the assumption of the truth procedure's \\ncompleted [acheve] character (eLpis, generally translated as \\\"hope,\\\" \\nbut more appropriately rendered as \\\"certainty\\\") . \\n4. A truth is of itself indifferent to the state of the situation, to the \\nRoman State for example. This means that it is subtracted f\\nrom the \\norganization of subsets prescribed by that state. The subjectivity \\ncorresponding to this subtraction constitutes a necessary distance \\nfrom the State and from what corresponds to the State in people's \\nconsciousness: the apparatus of opinion. One must not argue about \\nopinions, Paul says. A truth is a concentrated and serious proce­\\ndure, which must never enter into competition with established \\nopllllOns. \\nThere is not one of these maxims which, setting aside the content \\nof the event, cannot be appropriated for our situation and our philo­\\nsophical tasks. All that remains is to deploy their underlying conceptual \\norganization, while giving credit to him who, deciding that none was ex­\\nempt from what a truth demands and disjoining the true f\\nrom the Law, \\nprovoked-entirely alone-a cultural revolution upon which we still de­\\npend. \\n\\n\\n2 \\nWho Is Paul? \\nWe could begin in the sanctimonious style of the usual biographies. \\nPaul (actually Saul, the name of the first king of Israel) is born in Tarsus \\nbetween 1 and 5 A.D. (impossible, from a strictly scholarly perspective, to \\nbe more precise) . Thus, he is of the same generation as Jesus, who, as \\neveryone knows-but the circularity is interesting-is born and concur­\\nrently establishes his own date of birth by instituting year I of \\\"our\\\" era \\n(\\\"his,\\\" rather) . Paul's father is an artisan-retailer, a tent maker. He is a Ro­\\nman citizen, and hence so is Paul. How did this f\\nather obtain citizenship? \\nIt is simplest to suppose, despite the absence of evidence, that he bought \\nit. It would not be beyond the means of \\nan affluent retailer to bribe a Ro­\\nman civil servant. Paul is a Jew of the Pharisaical tendency. He is an ar­\\ndent participant in the persecution of Christians, who are considered \\nheretics by the orthodox Jews and, as a result, legally prosecuted but also \\nbeaten, stoned, and driven out, in accordance with the varying power \\nstruggles between different factions in the Jewish communities. \\nChrist's execution dates approximately from the year 30. We are in \\nthe reign of \\nTiberi \\nus. In the year 33 or 34, on the road to Damascus Paul \\nis struck by a divine apparition and converts to Christianity. He begins \\nhis famous missionary voyages. And so on. \\nWhat use is all this? You can consult the books. Let's cut straight to \\nthe doctrine. \\n\\n\\nW\\nho Is Paul? \\n17 \\nAnd yet, no, let us pause instead. Paul is a major figure of antiphi­\\nlosophy. But it is of the essence of \\nantiphilosophy that the subjective po­\\nsition figure as a decisive factor in discourse. Existential fragments, some­\\ntimes anecdotal in appearance, are elevated to the rank of guarantor of \\ntruth. Can one imagine Rousseau without the Con\\nfessions, Kierkegaard \\nwithout our being informed of \\nthe detail of \\nhis engagement to Regine, or \\nNietzsche not inviting us to pay witness, throughout Ecce Homo, to the \\nreasons entitling him to ask the question \\\"Why am I a destiny\\\"? For an \\nanti \\nphilosopher, the enunciative position is obviously part of the state­\\nment's protocol. No discourse can lay claim to truth if \\nit does not contain \\nan explicit answer to the question: Who speaks? \\nWhenever Paul addresses his writings, he always draws attention to \\nthe fact that he has been entitled to speak as a subject. And he became this \\nsubject. He became it suddenly, on the road to Damascus (if, as we be­\\nlieve, in this particular instance one can, for once and once only, trust \\nthat fabricated biography of \\nPaul that the New Testament presents under \\nthe title Acts of \\nthe Apostles) . The story is well known: while traveling to \\nDamascus as a zealous Pharisee in order to persecute Christians, Paul \\nhears a mysterious voice revealing to him both the truth and his vocation. \\nIs the term \\\"conversion\\\" appropriate to what happened on the road \\nto Damascus? It was a thunderbolt, a caesura, and not a dialectical rever­\\nsal. It was a conscription instituting a new subject: \\\"By the grace of God \\nI am what I am [eimi ho eimz]\\\" (Cor. 1.15-10). What this absolutely alea­\\ntory intervention on the road to Damascus summons is the \\\"I am\\\" as \\nsuch. \\nIn a certain sense, this conversion isn't carried out by anyone: Paul \\nhas not been converted by representatives of \\\"the Church\\\"; he has not \\nbeen won over. He has not been presented with the gospel. Clearly, the \\nencounter on the road mimics the founding event. Just as the Resurrec­\\ntion remains totally incalculable and it is from there that one must begin, \\nPaul's faith is that from which he begins as a subject, and nothing leads \\nup to it. The event-\\\"it happened,\\\" purely and simply, in the anonymity \\nof a road-is the subjective sign of the event proper that is the Resurrec­\\ntion of Christ. Within Paul himself, it is the (re)surgence [(re\\n}surrectionl \\nof the subject. This is the exemplary matrix of the link between existence \\nand doctrine, for Paul draws from the conditions of his \\\"conversion\\\" the \\n\\n\\n18 \\nWho Is Paul? \\nconsequence that one can only begin from faith, from the declaration of \\nfaith. The sudden appearance of the Christian subject is unconditioned. \\nAccordingly, if we are to grasp his message, we can in no way neg­\\nlect the circumstances of Paul's life. In this regard, it is fortunate that \\nthose circumstances to which we accord the highest importance are the \\nones he himself incorporates into his epistles. For reliable independent \\nevidence is extremely rare. The narrative of the Acts of the Apostles is, as \\nwe have already mentioned, a retrospective construction whose inten­\\ntions modern criticism has clearly brought to light, and whose form is \\nfrequently borrowed from the rhetoric of Greek fables. To distinguish its \\nreal elements from the edifying (and politically charged) fable in which \\nthey are enveloped requires an exceptional and suspicious rigor. And we \\nhave practically nothing else to go on, unless it be the ability to verify \\nsuch and such a detail through the intermediary of Roman historiogra­\\nphy, which couldn't have cared less about these little groups of Jewish \\nheretics. Moreover, one must be suspicious even of \\\"Paul's epistles,\\\" \\ncanonically gathered together in the New Testament at least a century af­\\nter the apostle's death. Scholarly exegesis has demonstrated the apoc­\\nryphal nature of many of them, to the extent that the corpus of this fun­\\ndamental author must, in the final analysis, be reduced to six rather brief \\ntexts: Romans, Corinthians I and II, Galatians, Philippians, and Thessa­\\nlonians 1. This is nonetheless enough to establish certain major subjective \\ntraits and guarantee certain decisive episodes. \\nThus, for example, a point of the highest importance, which Paul \\nrelates to us with noticeable pride (Paul is certainly neither introverted, \\nnor f\\nalsely modest): What does he do after the Damascus experience? We \\nknow in any case what he does not do. He does not go to Jerusalem; he \\ndoes not go to see the authorities, the institutional apostles, those who \\nknew Christ. He does not seek \\\"confirmation\\\" for the event that appoints \\nhim in his own eyes as an apostle. He leaves this subjective upsurge out­\\nside every official seal. The unshakable conviction as to his own destiny \\nprobably dates from here, a conviction that will on several occasions \\ncause him to come into conflict with the core of historical apostles, \\namong whom Peter is the central figure. Turning away from all authority \\nother than that of the Voice that personally summoned him to his be­\\ncoming-subject, Paul leaves for Arabia in order to proclaim the gospel, to \\n\\n\\nW\\nho Is Paul? \\n19 \\ndeclare that what took place did take place. A man who, armed with a \\npersonal event, has grounds for declaring that impersonal event that is \\nthe Resurrection. \\nPaul stays in Arabia for three years. Doubtless, in his own eyes, his \\nmilitant efficacy provides a sufficient guarantee, so that having endured \\nthis delay he is finally entitled to meet the Church's \\\"historic leaders.\\\" We \\nshall see later that although stubborn, even violent, where matters of \\nprinciple are concerned, Paul is also a politician, one who knows the \\nvalue of reasonable compromise, \\nand particularly of verbal compromises, \\nwhich only slightly impede his freedom of action in the places and terri­\\ntories he chooses (preferably those where his opponent has the least foot­\\ning). Thus, \\nPaul goes to Jerusalem, where he meets Peter and the apostles, \\nthen leaves again. We know nothing of the issues debated in this first \\nmeeting. It seems it did not convince Paul of the necessity of frequently \\nconsulting with the Jerusalemite \\\"center,\\\" because his second period of \\nmilitant voyage will last f\\nourteen years! Cilicia, Syria, \\nTurkey, Macedonia, \\nGreece. The ex-centered dimension of Paul's action is the practical sub­\\nstructure of his thought, which posits that all true universality is devoid \\nof a center. \\nWe lmow roughly how these militant peregrinations functioned. At \\nthat time Judaism was still a proselytizing religion. To address oneself to \\nGentiles was not, as is often thought, an invention of Paul's. Jewish pros­\\nelytism was substantial and developed. It divided its audience into two \\ncircles that could be called, using a risky political anachronism, the sym­\\npathizers and the adherents: \\n(a) The \\\"God-fearing\\\" recognize monotheism's global legitimacy \\nbut are exempt from the prescriptions of the law, and notably from \\nClrcumC1SlOn. \\n(b) The converted are committed to following the prescriptions of \\nthe law, and must be circumcised. Circumcision here indexes its \\nfunction as a form of branding, of primary initiation. \\nThus, it is not primarily the fact that he addresses Gentiles that iso­\\nlates Paul from the Jewish community. Moreover, Paul begins his teach­\\ning by basing himself on that community's institutions. When he arrives \\nin a town, he first intervenes in the synagogue. Unsurprisingly, things go \\n\\n\\n20 \\nWho Is Paul? \\nbadly with the orthodox, for reasons of doctrine: the stubborn persistence \\nin affirming that Jesus is the Messiah (remember that \\\"Christ\\\" is simply \\nthe Greek word for \\\"messiah,\\\" so that the only continuity between the \\nGood News according to Paul and prophetic Judaism is the equation Je­\\nsus = Christ), an affirmation that, in the eyes of \\nthe majority ofJews, and \\nfor extremely powerful and legitimate reasons, propounds a fraud. Fol­\\nlowing incidents that, in the conditions of the time, could be extremely \\nviolent, and where, basically, one risks one's life, Paul abandons the syna­\\ngogue and withdraws to the home of a local sympathizer. There he tries \\nto set up a group comprising Judeo-Christians and Gentile-Christians. It \\nseems that very quickly the Gentile-Christians will constitute the major­\\nity among the adherents of \\nthe group. In light of \\nthe minimal concession \\nPaul makes to the Jewish heritage, particularly so far as rites are con­\\ncerned, this is not in the least surprising. Once the group has been suffi­\\nciently consolidated in his eyes (it will then be called an ekl\\ndesia, from \\nwhich e\\nglise [church] undoubtedly derives, although the former should be \\nenvisioned in terms of a small group of militants), Paul entrusts its run­\\nning to those whose conviction he holds in high regard, and who will be­\\ncome his lieutenants. Then he continues on his voyage. \\nNothing bears witness to Paul's certainty concerning the future of \\nhis action so much as the identification, toward which he is constantly \\nproceeding, between a small core of the constituted faithful in a town and \\nthe entire region. Who are these Thessalonians, these Corinthians, to say \\nnothing of these Romans, to whom Paul addresses, in an animated and \\nmajestic tone, his epistles? Probably a few \\\"brothers\\\"-which is an ar­\\nchaic form of our \\\"comrades\\\"-lost in the city. Through their commen­\\nsurability with a truth, anonymous individuals are always transformed \\ninto vectors of \\nhumanity as a whole. Let's just say that the handful of \\nRe­\\nsistance fighters in the year 1940 or 1941 occupy the same position as \\nPaul's Corinthians: it is to them, and to them alone, that it is legitimate \\nto address oneself if \\nseeking to indicate a real proper to France. \\nHowever far away, Paul never loses sight of these enclaves of the \\nfaithful whose existence he has played midwife to. His epistles are noth­\\ning but interventions in the lives of \\nthese enclaves, and these are possessed \\nof \\nall the political passion proper to such interventions. Struggles against \\ninternecine divisions, reminders of fundamental principles, reassertions \\n\\n\\nWho I\\ns\\n Paul? \\n21 \\nof \\ntrust in local organizers, examinations of \\nlitigious points, pressing de­\\nmands for continuing proselytizing activity, organization of finances . . .  \\nNothing that an activist for any organized cause would not recognize as \\nfundamental to the concerns and passions of \\ncollective intervention. \\nAfter fourteen years of \\norganizational wandering, of \\nwhich no writ­\\nten trace remains, we are roughly in the year 50. About twenty years have \\npassed since the death of \\nChrist. It has been seventeen years since Paul re­\\nceived the Damascus convocation. He is in his fifties and refers to him­\\nself \\nas \\\"the old PauL\\\" His earliest texts that have been handed down to us \\ndate from this period. Why? A few hypotheses can be proposed. \\nSince he is responsible for several groups largely comprised of \\nGen­\\ntile-Christians, Paul resides in Antioch, a very large city, the third city of \\nthe empire after Rome and Alexandria. Recall that Paul was born into a \\nwell-off family in Tarsus, that he is a man of the city rather than a man of \\nthe country. This is more than a detail. His style owes nothing to those \\nrural images and metaphors that, on the contrary, abound in the parables \\nof Christ. If \\nhis vision of things fervently embraces the dimension of \\nthe \\nworld and extends to the extreme limits of the empire (his dearest wish is \\nto go to Spain, as if he, the Oriental, could only accomplish his mission \\nat the extreme edge of the Occident), it is because urban cosmopoli­\\ntanism and lengthy voyages have shaped its amplitude. Paul's universal­\\nism also comprises an internal geography, which is not that of the peren­\\nnial little landowner. \\nIf Paul begins to write about points of doctrine, if his texts are \\ncopied and circulated, we believe it is because he becomes aware of the \\nnecessity of engaging in a large-scale struggle. The situation forces him to \\nconceive of himself as leader of a party or faction. \\nDuring Paul's stay in Antioch, some Judeo-Christians of \\nstrict ob­\\nservance arrive. They confront the apostle, sow discord, demand the cir­\\ncumcision of all the faithful. Once again, it is not proselytism toward \\nnon-Jews that is in question. The point is that Paul cannot consent to the \\ndistinction between two circles among those whom he has rallied, the \\ndoctrinal sympathizers and the \\\"true\\\" converts, initiated and circumcised. \\nFor him (and we shall grant him this point), a truth procedure does not \\ncomprise degrees. Either one participates in it, declaring the founding \\nevent and drawing its consequences, or one remains foreign to it. This \\n\\n\\n22 \\nWho Is Paul? \\ndistinction, without intermediary or mediation, is entirely subjective. \\nRites and external markings can provide neither a foundation, nor even a \\nqualification f\\nor it. Such is the price for truth's status as a universal sin­\\ngularity. A truth procedure is only universal insofar as it is supported, at \\nthat point through which it indexes the real, by an immediate subjective \\nrecognition of \\nits singularity. Failing which, one resorts to observances or \\nparticular signs, which can only fix the Good News within the commu­\\nnitarian space, blocking its universal deployment. Thus, Paul considers all \\nconverts as fully practicing f\\nollowers, whatever their background, and re­\\ngardless of whether they are circumcised. Judeo-Christians of strict ob­\\nservance maintain the practice of distinguishing between degrees of be­\\nlonging and find it genuinely scandalous that individuals possessing \\nneither the markings nor the ritual practices of the community can be \\nconsidered as equals. People who, in a word, have neither the slightest \\nknowledge of, nor respect for, the Law. \\nA grave dispute ensues. It is finally decided that the issue be settled \\nwith the historical apostles in Jerusalem. It is Paul's second encounter \\nwith Peter, and this time we have inf\\normation about what \\nwas at stal(e. It \\nconcerns a major conflict, one in which the destiny of the new doctrine \\nis at issue. To what extent does the latter remain dependent on its origin \\nin the Jewish community? In my own language: What is the exact rela­\\ntion between the supposed universality of the postevental truth (that is, \\nwhat is inferred from Christ's resurrection) and the evental site, which is, \\nindubitably, the nation bound together by the Old Testament? Of what \\nimport are the traditional marks of belonging to the Jewish community \\nfor the construction of \\nthis truth, f\\nor its deployment in the people of \\nthe \\nempire? \\nThe Jerusalem conference (in 50? in 51?) is of \\ndecisive importance \\nfor these questions, which coordinate the binding of singularity and uni­\\nversality. Specifically at stake in it is circumcision, and Paul deliberately \\ncomes to Jerusalem accompanied by Titus, an uncircumcised follower. \\nBut in the background the question is: Who is called? What is it to be \\ncalled? Is the call indexed by visible signs? And finally: Who is a subject? \\nWhat marks a subject? \\nThe Judeo-Christian faction, which maintains strict observance, as­\\nserts that the Christ-event does not abolish the old order. Its conception \\n\\n\\nWho I\\ns\\n Paul? \\n23 \\nof the subject is dialectical. It is not a question of \\ndenying the power of \\nthe event. It is a question of \\nasserting that its novelty conserves and sub­\\nlates the traditional site of faith, that it incorporates it by exceeding it. \\nThe Christ-event accomplishes the Law; it does not terminate it. Thus \\nthe marks inherited from tradition (circumcision, for example) are still \\nnecessary. One might even say that, tal<en up and elevated by the new an­\\nnouncement, the latter become transfigured and are all the more active \\nfor it. \\nPaul finds himself leading the second faction. In his eyes, the event \\nrenders prior markings obsolete, and the new universality bears no privi­\\nleged relation to the Jewish community. Certainly, the components of the \\nevent, its location, everything it mobilizes, have this communit\\ny as their \\nsite. Paul himself is entirely ofJewish culture and cites the Old Testament \\nfar more frequently than the putative words of the living Christ. But al­\\nthough the event depends on its site in its being, it must be independent \\nof it in its truth effects. Thus, it is not that communitarian marking (cir­\\ncumcision, rites, the meticulous observance of the Law) is indefensible or \\nerroneous. It is that the postevental imperative of \\ntruth renders the latter \\nindifferent (which is worse) . It has no signification, whether positive or \\nnegative. Paul is not opposed to circumcision. His rigorous assertion is \\n\\\"Circumcision is nothing, and uncircumcision is nothing\\\" (Cor. 1.7.19). \\nThis assertion is obviously sacrilegious for Judeo-Christians. But note \\nthat it is not, for all that, a Gentile-Christian assertion, since uncircum­\\ncision acquires no particular value through it, so that it is in no way to be \\ninsisted upon. \\nThe debate, philosophically reconstructed, bears upon three con­\\ncepts: interruption (what does an event interrupt, what does it preserve?); \\nfidelity (what is it to be f\\naithful to an evental interruption?); and marking \\n(are there visible marks or signs of fidelity?). The f\\nundamental interroga­\\ntion is crystallized at the intersection of these three concepts: Who is the \\nsubject of the truth procedure? \\nWe know of the Jerusalem conference's existence and stakes only \\nthrough Paul's own brief narrative, and through its staging in the Acts. \\nThat it ended in compromise, in a sort of delimitation of spheres of in­\\nfluence, is certain. The formula for that compromise is: there are apostles \\nworking in the Jewish environment, and others working in the Gentile \\n\\n\\nW\\nho Is Paul? \\nenvironment. Peter is apostle of the Jews; Paul, apostle of the Gentiles, \\nthe ethne (translated as \\\"nations,\\\" and in fact designating all peoples other \\nthan the Jewish people) . \\nPaul relates the episode in his epistle to the Galatians, 2.1.10: \\nThen after fourteen years I went up again to \\nJerusalem with Barnabas, taking Ti­\\ntus along with me. I went up by revelation; and laid before them (but privately, \\nbefore those who were of reputation) the gospel that I preach among the Gen­\\ntiles, lest somehow I should be running or had run in vain. But even Titus, who \\nwas with me, was not compelled to be circumcised, though he was a Greek. But \\nbecause of \\nfalse brethren secretly brought in, who slipped in to spy out our free­\\ndom which we have in Christ Jesus, that they might bring us into bondage-to \\nthem we did not yield submission even for a moment, that the truth of the \\ngospel might be preserved for you. And from those who were most esteemed \\n(what they were malces no diff\\nerence to me; God shows no partiality)-those, I \\nsay, who were of repute added nothing to me. But on the contrary, when they \\nsaw that I had been entrusted with the gospel of the uncircumcised, JUSt as Peter \\nhad been entrusted the gospel of the circumcised (for he who worked through \\nPeter for the mission to the circumcised, worked through me also for the Gen­\\ntiles), and when they perceived the grace that was given to me, James and \\nCephas and John, who were reputed to be pillars, gave to me and Barnabas the \\nright hands of fellowship, that we should go to the Gentiles and they to the cir­\\ncumcised, only they would have us remember the poor, which very thing I was \\neager to do. \\nThis is an entirely political text, from which we must retain at least \\nthree points: \\n1. Whatever the ponderous character of this discourse, we deduce \\nthat the struggle was a fierce one. The Judeo-Christians of \\nstrict ob­\\nservance (probably those who were behind the disturbances at An­\\ntioch) are denounced as \\\"false brethren,\\\" and it is clearly a question \\nof knowing whether one is going to give in to pressure. There was \\nan intercession by the historical apostles, Peter (Cephas), James, \\nand John, who, carrying out their symbolic governing role in a \\nspirit of rational compromise, approved some kind of \\nempirical du­\\nality in the militant f\\nunction. Nevertheless, we notice that nothing \\nin this conclusion provides a clear indication as to which side has \\nbeen talcen on the fundamental issues. That Paul concern himself \\n\\n\\nW\\nho Is Paul? \\n25 \\nwith the Gentiles is one thing that he impose on them neither rites \\nnor marks is another, one which the conference apparently does not \\ndecide. \\n2. The key moment in the text is the one in which Paul declares \\nthat his opponents spied out the \\\"f\\nreedom which we have in Christ \\nJesus, that they might bring us into bondage.\\\" For freedom puts \\ninto play the question of the law, a question that will be central in \\nPaul's discourse. What, in the final analysis, is the relation between \\nlaw.an\\f subject? Is every subject configured in the form of a legal \\nsubJectlon? The Jerusalem conf\\nerence resolves nothing, but lets \\nconflicting experiences develop. \\n3· Everything, including Paul's defensive tone (he is visibly plead­\\ning for the recognized right to pursue his action), shows that the \\ncompromise was unstable, which is not to say it was without his­\\ntorical influence. On the contrary, that influence is considerable. By \\nallowing Paul's action to develop at the same time as that of \\nJudeo­\\nChristians of \\nstrict observance, the Jerusalem conference ultimately \\nprevents Christianity from becoming a Jewish ect, another precar­\\nious scission (in the wake of many others). But in curbing the zeal \\nof those Gentile-Christians hostile to Judaism, and perhaps that of \\nPaul himself, it prevented Christianity from being merely a new il­\\nluminism, one just as precarious because devoid of all basis in his­\\ntorical Judaism. The Jerusalem conference is genui n ely founda­\\ntional, because it endows Christianity with a twofold principle of \\nopening and historicity. It thereby holds tight to the thread of the \\nevent as initiation of a truth procedure. That the event is new \\nshould never let us f\\norget that it is such only with respect to a de­\\nterminate situation, wherein it mobilizes the elements of its site. \\nAdmittedly, the conf\\nerence does not seem able to fix the content of \\nthis difficult match between eventality and immanence to a situa­\\ntion. But that it manages to coordinate the possibility of this match \\nempirically is already a lot. If \\nit is true that Peter [Pierre] was the ar­\\nchitect of the Jerusalem compromise, he deserves his title of cor­\\nnerstone [pierre angulaire] of the Church. \\nThat the situation remained tense even after the conference is at­\\ntested to by the famous \\\"incident at Antioch,\\\" which Paul mentions just \\nafter his narrative of \\nthe conference and which seems to have occurred at \\n\\n\\nWho Is Paul? \\nthe end of the same year. This incident is passed over in silence in the \\nActs, which supports the view that the latter is an official document, \\nwhose function is to provide an account of the first decades of \\nChristian­\\nity that would be as uniform, organizational, and \\\"Roman\\\" as possible. \\nWhat \\nwas this incident about? Peter is in Antioch (a tour of \\ninspec­\\ntion?) , where Paul has returned. The issue concerns whether one can \\nshare ritual meals with non-Jews. Peter begins by doing so, but seeing dis­\\nciples ofJames entering, leaves the table. Paul takes it very badly. There is \\nno doubt that he sees in Peter's behavior a betrayal of \\nthe initial compro­\\nmise and a hypocritical position. The text still bears the imprint of gen­\\nuine fury: \\nBut when Peter came to Antioch, I opposed him face to face, because he stood \\ncondemned. For before certain men came from James, he ate with the Gentiles; \\nbut when they came he drew back and separated himself\\n, fearing the circumci­\\nsion party. And with him the rest of the Jews acted insincerely\\n, so that even Bar­\\nnabas was carried away by their insincerity. But when I saw that they were not \\nstraightf\\norward about the truth of the gospel, I said to Peter bef\\nore them all, \\\"If \\nyou, though a Jew, live like a Gentile, and not like a Jew, how can YOLl compel \\nthe Gentiles to live like Jews?\\\" (Gal. 2.1I.I4) \\nPaul will immediately break with Barnabas, who has been led astray by \\nPeter. Everything indicates that he refused any compromise when it came \\nto fidelity to principles. \\nThe apparent enigma is the following: Why does Paul say to Peter \\nthat he (Peter), who is a Jew, lives in the manner of \\nGentiles? The answer \\nsupposes an implicit reference to the Jerusalem agreements. With respect \\nto these agreements, what Peter did is tantamount to duplicity. It shows \\na hypocritical disrespect for a convention. For someone who claims to \\nfollow the Law, it amounts to a grave failing. One might say that Paul re­\\nproaches Peter with acting in a manner that fails to correspond to the im­\\nage Peter himself claims to give of what it is to be a Jew. He thereby de­\\nprives himself of the right to force the Gentiles to conform to this image \\nand to practice foreign rites. \\nIt is impossible to overestimate the importance of the incident at \\nAntioch. That Peter could display such inconsistency with regard to his \\nown principles, such disloyalty to a past compromise, instills in Paul the \\n\\n\\nW\\nho Is Paul? \\n27 \\nidea that what is required are new principles. The incident reveals to him \\nthat the Law, in its previous imperative, is not, is no longer, tenable, even \\nfor those who claim to follow it. This will nourish one of Paul's essential \\ntheses, which is that the Law has become a figure of death: Peter's situa­\\ntion, at the very heart of the meager Christian \\\"apparatus,\\\" a precarious, \\nhypocritical, \\\"reprehensible,\\\" and basically moribund situation so far as \\nthe requirements of action are concerned, furnished him with concrete \\nproof of this. For Paul, it is no longer possible to maintain an equal bal­\\nance between the Law, which is a principle of death for the suddenly as­\\ncendant truth, and the evental declaration, which is its principle of life. \\nNow the leader of a faction, and having learned from these major, \\n\\\"summit\\\" confrontations, Paul sets of\\nf on his travels once again (Mace­\\ndonia, Greece) . The Acts presents us with the Hollywood version of these \\ntravels. One episode, as famous as it is unlikely, is that of the great speech \\nPaul is said to have given before the Athenian philosophers (Stoics and \\nEpicureans) \\\"in the midst of the Areopagus.\\\" Perhaps we may retain, at \\nleast in its spirit, the episode's sorry conclusion: hearing Paul speak of \\nthe \\nresurrection of the dead, the Greek philosophers burst out laughing and \\nleave. It is in fact likely that Paul's discourse met with little success in \\nAthens. The evidence is that Paul founded no group there. We find our­\\nselves here on the second of Paul's major fronts (the first being the con­\\nflict with the Judeo-Christians): the contempt in which he holds philo­\\nsophical wisdom. Basically, what gets him into difficulty in Athens is his \\nantiphilosophy. In Corinthians I, we find a clear, albeit indirect, appraisal \\nof these expeditions into philosophical territory by an anti \\nphilosopher: \\nWhen I came to you, brethren, I did not come proclaiming to you the testimony \\nof God in lofty words or wisdom. For I decided to know nothing among you ex­\\ncept Jesus Christ and him crucified. And I was with YOLl in weakness, and in \\nmuch f\\near and trembling; and my speech and my message were not in persuasive \\nwords of wisdom, but i n  demonstration of the Spi rit and power, that your f\\naith \\nmight not rest in the wisdom of men, but in the power of God. (Cor. 1.2.1-5) \\nThe problem lies in knowing how, armed only with the conviction \\nthat declares the Christ-event, one is to taclde the Greek intellectual mi­\\nlieu, whose essential category is that of wisdom (sophia), and whose in­\\nstrument is that of rhetorical superiority (huperokhe logou). \\n\\n\\nWho Is PauL? \\nSpeaking of logos, we should note that Paul writes in Greek, the \\nGreek commonly spoken in the Orient of those days, which is a sort of \\ninternational language (a bit like English today). It is in no way a con­\\ntrived or esoteric language, but the Greek of \\ntraders and writers. We must \\nrestore to Paul's words, whose translations have become worn by cen­\\nturies of obscurantism (all this \\\"faith\\\"! \\\"charity\\\"! \\\"Holy Spirit\\\"! What an \\nextravagant waste of energy!), their contemporary, everyday currency; for­\\nbid ourselves from seeing them as a Church dialect. When Paul speal<s of \\nthe subtleties of Greek, one must remember not only that the language of \\nthe literate, of the philosophers, is frozen, almost dead already, but also \\nthat the debate cannot be carried on from outside, according to the labo­\\nrious transit between idioms. Conflict occurs within the same living lan­\\nguage. \\nPaul opposes a show of spirit (pneuma, breath) and power \\n(dunamis) to the armed wisdom of rhetoric. The wisdom of men is op­\\nposed to the power of God. It is thus a question of intervening ou!\\n;: en \\nsophiai Logou, \\\"without the wisdom of language.\\\" This maxim envelops a \\nradical antiphilosophy; it is not a proposition capable of \\nbeing supported \\nby a philosophia. The essence of all this is that a subjective upsurge can­\\nnot be given as the rhetorical construction of a personal adjustment to \\nthe laws of the universe or nature. \\nPaul's appraisal seems sincere. There was a failure before the \\n\\\"Greeks.\\\" The Jews raise the question of the Law; the Greeks, that of \\nWisdom, of philosophy. Such are the two historical referents for Paul's \\nenterprise. One must find the path for a thought that avoids both these \\nreferents. In public circumstances, this attempt at a diagonal trajectory \\nrarely meets with success, rallying only a few anonymous companions. So \\nbegins every truth. \\nWe are now under Nero' reign, and Paul's wish-we mentioned it \\nearlier-is to go to Spain, which at the time represents the edge of the \\nworld. At the moment of departure, a new militant question arises, that \\nof the collection. \\nIn all the groups affiliated with the Christian declaration, funds \\ndestined for the Jerusalem community are collected. What does this con­\\ntribution signify? Here, we encounter once again the conflict between \\ntendencies refereed by the Jerusalem conference's feeble compromise. \\n\\n\\nWho Is Paul? \\n29 \\nThe Judeo-Christians see in this paying of tribute an acknowledg­\\nment of the primacy of the historical apostles (Peter and the others), as \\nwell as the sign that elects Jerusalem-obvious center, along with the \\nTemple, of the Jewish community-as natural center of the Christian \\nmovement. The collection thereby affirms a continuity between Jewish \\ncommunitarianism and Christian expansionism. Lastly, through the col­\\nlection, external groups recognize that they amount to a diaspora. \\nPaul gives an interpretation of the collection that is the exact oppo­\\nsite. By accepting their donations, the center ratifies the legitimacy of the \\nGentile-Christian groups. It demonstrates that neither membership of \\nthe Jewish community, nor the marks of that membership, nor being sit­\\nuated on the land of Israel are pertinent criteria for deciding whether a \\nconstituted group does or does not belong within the Christian sphere of \\ninfluence. \\nBecause he wishes to keep a watch on the collection's future devel­\\nopment, as well as the meaning ascribed to it, Paul decides to accompany \\nthe funds to Jerusalem rather than go to Spain. \\nWhat happens next can only be conjectured. The most plausible ac­\\ncount is the following. In Jerusalem, Paul is, in a sense, in the lion's den. \\nHe is required to conform to certain Jewish rites. Paul accepts, because, \\nas he has written, he knows how to be \\\"a Jew among Jews,\\\" just as he \\nknows how to be a Greek among Greeb: subjective truth is indifferent to \\ncustoms. He goes to the Temple. Subsequently, he becomes the target of \\nan angry mob, because he has been accused of \\nhaving smuggled a Gentile \\ninto the Temple. In the eyes of the Jewish religious administration, sec­\\nonded on this point by the Roman occupier, who is in the habit of \\nmain­\\ntaining local customs, such an action is worthy of the death penalty. \\nDid Paul really commit the crime of \\nwhich he is accused? The ma­\\njority of historians think not. The truth is, no one knows. Paul is an ac­\\ntivist, and nothing rules out the possibility that he believed such a provo­\\ncation to be both possible and useful. In any case, he is arrested by a \\ndetachment of Roman soldiers at the moment when he is about to be \\nlynched. It is the Romans who will initiate proceedings against him. Paul \\nis taken to the garrison at Caesarea. Around 59, he appears before the \\ngovernor, Festus (this much is certain). Since the accusation can lead to \\nthe death penalty, he claims his rights as a Roman citizen: a citizen \\n\\n\\n30 \\nWho Is P\\naul? \\ncharged with a capital offense has the right to be judged in Rome. Thus, \\nhe is transferred there, and it seems he remained prisoner there from 60 \\nto 62. A brief allusion by Clement, around 90, leads one to think he was \\nfinally executed-whether following a formal trial, or during a persecu­\\ntion, no one can know. \\nNone of Paul's texts refer to these episodes, and for good reason: all \\nthe authentic texts that have been handed down to us were certainly writ­\\nten prior to his arrest, which is to say that, so far as the final years of \\nPaul's \\nlife are concerned, we remain, in reality, utterly ignorant. The voyage to \\nRome is recounted with a great wealth of \\ndetail in the Acts, following the \\nfamiliar conventions of the seafaring adventure yarn. It is impossible to \\ndistinguish berween the true and the false. The Acts ends strangely, not, \\nas one might expect, with Paul's martyrdom, but with the edifYing spec­\\ntacle of an apostle continuing his proselytizing activity in Rome in per­\\nfect tranquility, which, along with many other details, testifies to the pro­\\nRoman benevolence harbored by the author of the Acts. \\nYet after all, Paul himself teaches us that it is not the signs of power \\nthat count, nor exemplary lives, but what a conviction is capable of, here, \\nnow, and forever. \\n\\n\\n3 \\nTexts and Contexts \\nPaul's texts are letters, written by a leader to the groups he has \\nstarted or backed. They cover a very brief period (from 50 to 58). They are \\nmilitant documents sent to small groups of \\nthe converted. In no way are \\nthey narratives, in the manner of the Gospels, or theoretical treatises, of \\nthe kind later written by the Church Fathers, or lyrical prophecies, such \\nas the Apocalypse attributed to John. They are interventions. From this \\npoint of view, they are more akin to the texts of Lenin than to Marx's \\nCapita4 or to the majority of texts by Lacan than to Freud's Inter\\npretation \\no\\nf\\n Dreams, or to Wittgenstein's lectures than to Russell's Principia Math­\\nematica. This format, in which the opportunity for action takes precedent \\nover the preoccupation with making a name for oneself through publica­\\ntions (\\\"poubellications,\\\"* as Lacan used to say), evinces one of the an­\\ntiphilosopher's characteristic traits: he writes neither system nor treatise, \\nnor even really a book. He propounds a speech of rupture, and writing \\nensues when necessary. \\nThe enigma lies mainly in knowing how these topical texts were be­\\nqueathed to us, and what was responsible for their solemn and suspicious \\ninclusion within that untouchable corpus known as the New Testament. \\nThe canonical collection of \\n\\\"Paul's epistles\\\" is late. It probably dates \\n*Portmanreau word combining poubelles, \\\"trash cans,\\\" and publications, \\n\\\"publications.\\\"-Trans. \\n\\n\\n32 \\nTexts and Contexts \\nfrom the end of the second century. The oldest copies we possess come \\nfrom the beginning of the third century and consist only of fragments. \\nMoreover, as we indicated earlier, out of the thirteen letters contained in \\nthe New Testament at least six are certainly apocryphal, even if it seems \\nprobable that some of these originated from within Paul's \\\"entourage.\\\" \\nWhy and how did this corpus come to be canonized? Remember \\nthat Paul has no obvious historical legitimacy. He is not one of the twelve \\napostles. He knew nothing of the Lord's life. He caused many problems \\nfor the historical center in Jerusalem. \\nFour important remarks may illuminate this oddity. \\n1. Contrary to the persistent illusion harbored by the New T\\nesta­\\nment's canonical, multisecular order, and imposed on our spontaneous \\nopinion, we will never tire of repeating that Paul's epistles predate, by a \\nlong way, the composit\\nion of the Gospels. Better still: Paul's epistles are, \\nquite simply, the oldest Christian texts to be handed down to us. Of \\ncourse, \\noral accounts of Christ's life, of \\nhis miracles, of \\nhis death, must have been \\nabundantly propagated at the time of \\nPaul's preaching. But no document \\nestablishing the details of that history has come down to us written prior \\nto the year 70, which is to say, about ten years after Paul's death. If one \\ndates the first epistle to the Thessalonians from 50, which is plausible, a \\ntwenty-year gap separates it from the writing of the first gospel (Mark's). \\nConsequently, Paul enjoys a palpable anteriority so far as the written \\npropagation of the Christian doctrine is concerned. And because his let­\\nters were copied and circulated very early on, it would probably have \\nbeen difficult to simply ignore them when the time came (much later, at \\nthe end of the third century) to collect the new religion's founding docu­\\nments. \\n2. With the partial exception oEJohn's (which was written last, pos­\\nsibly around 90), the Gospels provide a genuine contrast to Paul's epis­\\ntles, one to which we shall have occasion to return. Their aim is obviously \\nto emphasize Jesus' ex\\nploits, his life's exceptional singularity. All the \\ntrusted staples of religious thaumaturgy and charlatanism are abundantly \\nmobilized: miraculous cures, walking on water, divinations and an­\\nnouncements, resuscitation of the dead, abnormal meteorological phe­\\nnomena, laying on of \\nhands, instantaneous multiplication of \\nvictuals . . .  \\nJesus' style, as recounted to us by the Gospels, is in complete accordance \\n\\n\\nTexts and Contexts \\n33 \\nwith this itinerant magician's paraphernalia. Certainly, the choiceness of \\nits aphorisms, and its shaping of the will to rupture, render it brilliant. \\nYet for all that, it is no less marked by the conventions of \\nthe genre: para­\\nbles with a double meaning, obscure metaphors, apocalyptic imagery, \\ncarefully constructed undecidability as to the character's identity \\n(Prophet? Messiah? Messenger of \\nGod? Son of \\nGod? New God descended \\non earth?). \\nPaul's texts retain almost nothing of all this, in spite of the fact that \\nit must have been recounted in abundant detail among Christians of \\nthe \\nfirst generation. It has often been noted that the empirical life of Jesus \\npractically goes unmentioned in the epistles, as do all of the master's fa­\\nmous parables. Jesus' teachings, like his miracles, are splendidly ignored. \\nEverything is brought back to a single point: Jesus, son of God (we shall \\nsee what this means), and Christ in virtue of this, died on the cross and \\nwas resurrected. The rest, all the rest, is of no real importance. Let us go \\nfurther: the rest (what Jesus said and did) is not what is real in conviction, \\nbut obstructs, or even falsifies it. Only a concentrated style, shorn of the \\nmannerisms of prophetic and thaumaturgical literature, can be appropri­\\nate to such a reduction. There is no doubt that Paul is a superlative \\nwriter: condensed, lapidary, knowing just when to unleash unusual and \\npowerful images. Certain passages, as the poet Henry Bachau pointed out \\nto us, combining a kind of violent abstraction with ruptures in tone de­\\nsigned to put pressure on the reader, to deprive him of all respite, resem­\\nble Shakespearean declamations. But ultimately, what matters so far as \\nthis prose is concerned is argumentation and delimitation, the forceful \\nextraction of an essential core of thought. Consequently, there will be no \\nparables, no learned obscurities, no subjective indecision, no veiling of \\ntruth. The paradox of faith must be brought out as it is, borne by prose \\ninto the light of its radical novelty. \\nThe result of all this is that Paul's epistles are the only truly doctri­\\nnal texts in the New Testament. One understands why, for example, \\nLuther considered that Paul's epistles, and they alone, contained the \\nmeaning of the Revelation, and he did not hide his low opinion of the \\nsynoptic Gospels, especially Luke's. \\nWithout Paul's texts, the Christian message would remain ambigu­\\nous, with little to distinguish it from the overabundant prophetic and \\n\\n\\n34 \\nTexts and Contexts \\n---\\n----\\napocalyptic literature of \\nthe time. This is an important reason for their in­\\nclusion within the canonical corpus. \\n3. What happened between the writing of Paul's texts and that of \\nthe Gospels? A crucial event: the Jewish uprising against the Roman oc­\\ncupier, erupting in 66 (very probably after Paul's death), and culminating \\nwith Titus's destruction of the temple ofJerusalem in 70. This marks the \\ntrue beginning of Jewish diaspora. Above all, it marks the end of \\nJerusalem's \\\"central\\\" significance for the Christian movement. Hence­\\nforth begins the process that will, little by little, turn Rome into the true \\ncapital of \\nChristianity and historically erase that Jewish and Oriental ori­\\ngin of \\nwhich Jerusalem, where the historic apostles resided, was the sym­\\nbol. \\nNow, in several regards, it is Paul who, by virtue of \\nhis universal and \\nde-centered vision of the construction of Christian enclaves, can be con­\\nsidered the genuine precursor for this displacement. There is no doubt \\nthat, for him, the structure of the Roman Empire, which means the \\nworld between the Orient and Spain, is more important than the preem­\\ninence of Jerusalem. That the most developed, most carefully crafted, \\nmost decisive of all his texts, especially so f\\nar as the brealc with Jewish law \\nis concerned, was an epistle to the Romans, is an instance of the kind of \\nfortuitousness whose symbolic function is irrecusable. Another major rea­\\nson f\\nor inscribing Paul within the official corpus. \\n4. It is common knowledge that an organization puts together the \\ncompendium of its canonical texts when the time has come f\\nor it to se­\\ncure its orientation against dangerous deviations, or struggle against \\nthreatening divisions. In this regard, the first centuries of Christianity are \\nparticularly fraught. So far as the question preoccupying us here is con­\\ncerned, it is essential to talee into account the upsurge of \\na heresy that one \\ncould call ultra-Pauline, that of Marcion, at the beginning of the second \\ncentury. \\nMarcion, providing the cue f\\nor the long succession of heresies of \\nManichean tendency, maintains that the break between Christianity and \\nJudaism, between (what we call) the Old Testament and the New Testa­\\nment, must be considered to be absolute in a precise sense: it is not the \\nsame God who is in question in these two religions. The Old Testament \\ndeals with the God who created the world, and that God, as a considera-\\n\\n\\n----\\nTexts and Contexts \\n3 5 \\ntion o f  \\nthe world as it is clearly establishes, is a malevolent being. Above \\nthis creator God, there exists a genuinely good God whose character is \\nthat of \\na Father and not a creator. We can say that, for Marcion, it is nec­\\nessary to distinguish the symbolic Father (revealed through Christianity \\nalone) from the creator, or real, father. The God of \\nChristianity (the sym­\\nbolic Father) is not known in the same sense as the God of the Old Tes­\\ntament (the progenitor) . The latter is directly apprehensible through the \\nnarrative of his dark and capricious misdeeds. The former, which the \\nworld provides no trace of, and who for that reason cannot be known di­\\nrectly, or known according to the style of narrative, is accessible only \\nthrough the coming of \\nhis Son. The result is that the Christian News is, \\npurely and simply, the true God's mediating revelation, the event of the \\nFather, which, at the same time, denounces the deception of that creator \\nGod whom the Old Testament tells LlS about. \\nMarcion's treatise, which has not been handed down to us, was \\ncalled The Anti-theses. A crucial point: in it he maintained that Paul was \\nthe only authentic apostle; the other so-called apostles, with Peter at their \\nhead, remained under the allspice of the dark creator God. There were \\ncertainly good reasons why the heretic could enlist the \\\"apostle of na­\\ntions\\\" in this way: chief among them Paul's struggle against the strictly \\nobservant Judea-Christians, his even \\ntal conception of Christianity, and \\nhis polemic about the deathly aspect of the law. By pushing a little, one \\ncould arrive at Marcion's conception: the new gospel is an absolute be­\\ngll1nll1g. \\nNevertheless, there is no question but that this was an instance of \\nmanipulation. There is no text of Paul's from which one could draw any­\\nthing resembling Marcion's doctrine. That the God whose son is JesLls \\nChrist is the God spoken of in the Old Testament, the God of the Jews, \\nis, for Paul, a ceaselessly reiterated and obvious fact. If there is a figure \\nwith whom Paul feels an affinity, and one whom he subtly uses to his \\nown ends, it is that of Abraham. That Paul emphasizes rupture rather \\nthan continuity with Judaism is not in doubt. But this is a militant, and \\nnot an ontological, thesis. Divine unicity [uniciteJ bridges the two situa­\\ntions separated by the Christ-event, and at no moment is it cast into \\ndoubt. \\nIn order to combat Marcion's dangerous heresy (which, in fact, \\n\\n\\nTexts and Contexts \\nabruptly backtracked on the Jerusalem compromise and threatened to \\nturn Christianity into a sect devoid of \\nall historical depth) the Church Fa­\\nthers must have set out a reasonable and \\\"centrist\\\" version of Paul in op­\\nposition to ultra-Paulinism. The construction of the official Paul proba­\\nbly dates from here, a construction that is not devoid of various \\ndoctorings and deviations. The truth is that we know Marcion only \\nthrough his orthodox opponents, either Irenaeus or Jerome. And corre­\\nspondingly, Paul came to be known through this image of Paul that it \\nwas \\nnecessary to construct in opposition to those who, in accordance with an \\nextremist vision of the Christian rupture, appropriated the founder's \\nmost radical statements. Herein lies a partial explanation for the inclu­\\nsion of Paul's epistles within the final corpus: better for the Church, \\nwhich was in the process of \\nconsolidating itself, to have a reasonable Paul \\non its side, than to have a Paul entirely turned over to the side of heresy. \\nNevertheless, this does not exclude the possibility that, on behalf of the \\ncause, and by doctoring the genuine texts and fabricating f\\nalse ones, the \\napostle came to be more or less \\\"rectified,\\\" or his radicalism tempered, at \\nthe very least. An operation in which, as we saw earlier, the author 'of the \\nActs was already engaged at the end of the first century. \\nBut in spite of everything, when one reads Paul, one is stupefied by \\nthe paucity of traces left in his prose by the era, genres, and circum­\\nstances. There is in this prose, under the imperative of the event, some­\\nthing solid and timeless, something that, precisely because it is a question \\nof orienting a thought toward the universal in its suddenly emerging sin­\\ngularity, but independently of all anecdote, is intelligible to us without \\nhaving to reson to cumbersome historical mediations (which is f\\nar from \\nbeing the case f\\nor many passages in the Gospels, let alone for the opaque \\nApocalypse) . \\nNo one has better illuminated the uninterrupted contemporane­\\nousness of Paul's prose than one of the greatest poets of our time, Pier \\nPaolo Pasolini, who, it must be said, with his two first names was at the \\nheart of the problem, through the signifier alone. \\nPasolini, for whom the question of Christianity intersected with \\nthat of communism, or alternatively, the question of saintliness inter­\\nsected with that of the militant, wanted to mal<e a film about Saint Paul \\ntransplanted into the contemporary world. The film was never made, but \\n\\n\\nTexts and Contexts \\n37 \\nwe possess a detailed script for it, one that was translated into French and \\npublished by Flammarion. \\nPasolini's aim was to turn Paul into a contemporary without modi­\\nfying any of his statements. He wanted to restore, in the most direct, \\nmost violent way, the conviction of Paul's intrinsic actuality. It was a \\nquestion of explicitly telling the spectator that it was possible to imagine \\nPaul among us, here, today, in his full physical existence. That it is our so­\\nciety Paul is addressing, that it is for us he weeps, threatens and forgives, \\nattacks and tenderly embraces. He wanted to say: Paul is our fictional \\ncontemporary because the universal content of his preaching, obstacles \\nand failures included, remains absolutely real. \\nFor Pasolini, Paul, in revolutionary fashion, wanted to destroy a \\nmodel of society based on social inequality, imperialism, and slavery. \\nThere resides in him the holy will to destruction. Certainly, in the film as \\nenvisioned, Paul fails, and this failure is even more internal than public. \\nBut he pronounces the truth of \\nthe world, and does so in the same unal­\\ntered terms in which he spoke almost two thousand years ago. \\nPasolini's thesis is threefold: \\n1. Paul is our contemporary because the sudden eruption of \\nchance, the event, the pure encounter, are always at the origin of a \\nsaintliness. Moreover, today, the figure of the saint is necessary, even \\nif the contents of the initiating encounter may vary. \\n2. By transplanting Paul, along with all his statements, into our \\ncentury, one sees them encountering there a real society every bit as \\ncriminal and corrupt, but infinitely more supple and resistant, than \\nthat of the Roman Empire. \\n3. Paul's statements are endowed with a timeless legitimacy. \\nThe central theme is situated in the relation between actuality and \\nsaintliness. Whenever the world of History tends to escape into mystery, \\n:rbstraction, pure interrogation, it is the world of the divine (of saintli­\\nness) which, eventally [evenementiellement] descended among humans, \\nbecomes concrete, operative. \\nThe film script charts the trajectory of a saintliness within an actu­\\nality. How is the transposition effected? \\nRome is New York, capital of American imperialism. Jerusalem, \\n\\n\\nTexts and Contexts \\ncultural seat occupied by the Romans, seat also of intellectual conform­\\nity, is Paris under the German heel. The small, nascent Christian com­\\nmunity is represented by the Resistance, while the Pharisees are the Pe­\\ntainists. \\nPaul is French, from a comfortable bourgeois background, a collab­\\norator, hunting members of \\nthe Resistance. \\nDamascus is the Barcelona of Franco's Spain. The fascist Paul goes \\non a mission to see supporters of \\nFranco. On the road to Barcelona, trav­\\neling through southwestern France, he has an illumination. He joins the \\ncamp of the antif\\nascist Resistance. \\nWe then follow him as he travels around preaching resistance, in \\nItaly, in Spain, in Germany. Athens, the Athens of the sophists who re­\\nfused to listen to Paul, is represented by contemporary Rome, by those \\npetty Italian intellectuals and critics whom Pasolini detested. Finally, Paul \\ngoes to New York, where he is betrayed, arrested, and executed in sordid \\ncircumstances. \\nThe principal aspect in this trajectory gradually becomes that of \\nbe­\\ntrayal, its wellspring being that what Paul creates (the Church, the Orga­\\nnization, the Party) turns against his own inner saintliness. Here, Pasolini \\nfinds support in a major tradition (one we shall examine later) that sees \\nin Paul not so much a theoretician of the Christian event as the tireless \\ncreator of the Church. A man of the institution: in short, a militant of \\nthe Third International. For Pasolini, reflecting on communism through \\nPaul, the Party is what, little by little, inverts saintliness into priesthood \\nthrough the narrow requirements of militantism. How does genuine \\nsaintliness (which Pasolini unhesitatingly recognizes in Paul) bear the or­\\ndeal of a History that is at once fleeting and monumental, one in which \\nit constitutes an exception rather than an operation? It can only do so by \\nhardening itself, by becoming authoritarian and organized. But that \\nhardness, which is supposed to preserve it from all corruption by HistolY, \\nreveals itself to be an essential corruption, that of the saint by the priest. \\nIt is the almost necessary movement of an internal betrayal. And this in­\\nternal betrayal is captured by an external betrayal, so that Paul will be de­\\nnounced. The traitor is Saint Luke, portrayed as an agent of the Devil, \\nwriting the Acts of the Apostles in an unctuous and emphatic style with \\nthe aim of \\neradicating saintliness. Such is Pasolini's interpretation of the \\n\\n\\nTexts and Contexts \\n39 \\nActs: it is a question of \\nwriting Paul's lif\\ne as if all he had ever been was a \\npriest. The Acts, and more generally, the of\\nficial image of Paul, present us \\nwith the saint erased by the priest. This is a falsification, because Paul is a \\nsaint. But the film script allows us to understand the truth behind this \\ndeception: in Paul, the immanent dialectic of saintliness and actuality \\nconstructs a subjective figure of the priest. Paul also dies to the extent that \\nsaintliness has darkened within him. \\nA saintliness immersed in an actuality such as that of the Roman \\nEmpire, or equally, that of contemporary capitalism, can protect itself \\nonly by creating, with all requisite severity, a Church. But this Church \\nturns saintliness into priesthood. \\nThe most surprising thing in all this is the way in which Paul's texts \\nare transplanted unaltered, and with an almost unfathomable natural­\\nness, into the situations in which Pasolini deploys them: war, fascism, \\nAmerican capitalism, the petty debates of the Italian intelligentsia . . .  \\nThe universal value of the core of Paul's thought, as well as of the time­\\nlessness of his prose, successfully undergoes this artistic trial, and Paul \\nemerges strangely victorious. \\n\\n\\n4 \\nTheory of Discourses \\nWhen Paul is designated by the Jerusalem conf\\nerence as apostle of \\nthe ethne (rather inaccurately translated as \\\"nations\\\"), one might think \\nthat, henceforth, his preaching is to relate to an absolutely open multiple \\nof peoples and customs, in fact, to all the human subsets of the empire, \\nwhich are extremely numerous. Yet consistently, Paul only explicitly men­\\ntions two entities-the Jews and the Greeks-as if this metonymic rep­\\nresentation sufficed, or as if, with these two referents, the multiple of the \\nethne had been exhausted so far as the Christian revelation and its uni­\\nversal destination is concerned. What is the status of \\nthis Jew/Greek cou­\\nple, which single-handedly stands in for the empire's \\\"national\\\" complex­\\nity? \\nOne basic reply consists in saying that \\\"Greek\\\" is equivalent to \\n\\\"Gentile,\\\" and that ultimately the multiplicity of nations is covered by \\nthe straightforward opposition between Jewish monotheism and official \\npolytheism. However, this reply is unconvincing, because when Paul talks \\nabout the Greeks, or about Greek, he only very rarely associates these \\nwords with a religious belief. As a rule, he is talking about wisdom, and \\nhence about philosophy. \\nIt is essential to understand that in Paul's lexicon, \\\"Jew\\\" and \\n\\\"Greek\\\" do not designate anything we might spontaneously understand \\nby means of the word \\\"nation,\\\" which is to say an objective human set \\n\\n\\nTheory o\\nf\\n Discourses \\n41 \\ngrasped in terms of its belief\\ns, customs, language, territory, and so forth. \\nNeither is it constituted, legalized religions that are being referred to. In \\nreality, \\\"Jew\\\" and \\\"Greek\\\" are sub\\njective dis\\npositions. More precisely, they \\nrefer to what Paul considers to be the two coherent intellectual figures of \\nthe world he inhabits, or what could be called regimes o\\nf\\n discourse. When \\ntheorizing about the Jew and the Greek, Paul is in fact presenting us with \\na schema of discourses. And this schema is designed to position a third \\ndiscourse, his own, in such a way as to render its complete originality ap­\\nparent. Like Lacan, who considers analytical discourse only in order to \\ninscribe it within a mobile schema wherein it is connected to the dis­\\ncourses of the master, the hysteric, and the university, Paul institutes \\n\\\"Christian discourse\\\" only by distinguishing its operations from those of \\nJewish discourse and Greek discourse. And the analogy is all the more \\nstriking in that, as we shall see, Paul accomplishes his objective only by \\ndefining a fourth discourse, which could be called mystical, as the mar­\\ngin for his own. As if \\nevery schema of \\ndiscourses had to configure a quad­\\nrangle. But is it not Hegel who illuminates this point when, at the end of \\nhis Logic, he shows that the absolute Knowledge of a ternary dialectic re­\\nquires a fourth term? \\nWhat is Jewish discourse? The subjective figure constituted by it is \\nthat of \\nthe prophet. But a prophet is one who abides in the requisition of \\nsigns, one who signals, testifying to transcendence by exposing the ob­\\nscure to its deciphering. Thus, Jewish discourse will be held to be, above \\nall, the discourse of the sign. \\nWhat then is Greek discourse? The subjective figure constituted by \\nit is that of \\nthe wise man. But wisdom consists in appropriating the fixed \\norder of the world, in the matching of the logos to being. Greek discourse \\nis cosmic, deploying the subject within the reason of a natural totality. \\nGreek discourse is essentially the discourse of totality, insofar as it up­\\nholds the sophia (wisdom as internal state) of a knowledge of \\nphusis (na­\\nture as ordered and accomplished deployment of being). \\nJewish discourse is a discourse of exception, because the prophetic \\nsign, the miracle, election, designate transcendence as that which lies be­\\nyond the natural totality. The Jewish nation itself \\nis at once sign, miracle, \\nand election. It is constitutively exceptional. Greek discourse bases itself \\non the cosmic order so as to adjust itself to it, while Jewish discourse \\n\\n\\n42 \\nTheor\\ny o\\nf\\n Discourses \\nbases itself on the exception to this order so as to turn divine transcen­\\ndence into a sign. \\nPaul's profound idea is that Jewish discourse and Greek discourse \\nare the two aspects of the same figure of mastery. For the miraculous ex­\\nception of the sign is only the \\\"minus-one,\\\" the point of incoherence, \\nwhich the cosmic totality requires in order to sustain itself. In the eyes of \\nPaul the Jew, the weakness of Jewish discourse is that its logic of the ex­\\nceptional sign is only valid \\nfor \\nthe Greek cosmic totality. The Jew is in ex­\\nception to the Greek. The result is, firstly, that neither of the two dis­\\ncourses can be universal, because each supposes the persistence of the \\nother; and secondly, that the two discourses share the presupposition that \\nthe key to salvation is given to us within the universe, whether it be \\nthrough direct mastery of the totality (Greek wisdom), or through mas­\\ntery of a literal tradition and the deciphering of signs (Jewish ritualism \\nand prophetism) . For Paul, whether the cosmic totality be envisaged as \\nsuch or whether it be deciphered on the basis of the sign's exception, in­\\nstitutes in every case a theory of \\nsalvation tied to mastery (to a law), along \\nwith the grave additional inconvenience that the mastery of \\nthe wise man \\nand that of \\nthe prophet, necessarily unaware of their identity, divide hu­\\nmanity in two (the Jew and the Greek), thereby blocking the universality \\nof the Announcement. \\nPaul's project is to show that a universal logic of \\nsalvation cannot be \\nreconciled with any law, be it one that ties thought to the cosmos, or one \\nthat fixes the effects of an exceptional election. It is impossible that the \\nstarting point be the Whole, but just as impossible that it be an exception \\nto the Whole. Neither totality nor the sign will do. One must proceed \\nfrom the event as such, which is a-cosmic and illegal, refusing integration \\ninto any totality and signaling nothing. But proceeding from the event \\ndelivers no law, no form of mastery, be it that of the wise man or the \\nprophet. \\nOne may also say: Greek and Jewish discourse are both discourses \\no\\nf\\n the Father. That is why they bind communities in a form of obedience \\n(to the Cosmos, the Empire, God, or the Law). Only that which will \\npresent itself \\nas a discourse of the Son has the potential to be universal, de­\\ntached from every particularism. \\nThis figure of the son evidently fascinated Freud, just as it under-\\n\\n\\nTheory o\\nf\\n Discourses \\n43 \\nlies Pasolini's identification with the apostle Paul. In the case of the for­\\nmer, with regard to that Jewish monotheism for which Moses is the de­\\ncentered founding figure (the Egyptian as Other of the origin), Chris­\\ntianity raises the question of the relation that sons have to the Law, with \\nthe symbolic murder of the Father in the background. In the case of the \\nlatter, the power of thought intrinsic to homosexual desire is turned to­\\nward the advent of an egalitarian humanity, wherein the concordance of \\nthe sons cancels, to the benefit of the love of the mother, the crushing \\nsymbolism of the fathers, which is embodied in institutions (the \\nChurch, or the Communist Party). In addition, Pasolini's Paul is as \\nthough torn between the saintliness of \\nthe son-linked, given the law of \\nthe world, to abjection and death-and the ideal of power proper to the \\nfather, which drives him to create a coercive apparatus in order to dom­\\ninate History. \\nFor Paul, the emergence of the instance of the son is essentially tied \\nto the conviction that \\\"Christian discourse\\\" is absolutely new. The for­\\nmula according to which God sent us his Son signifies primarily an in­\\ntervention within History, one through which it is, as Nietzsche will put \\nit, \\\"broken in two,\\\" rather than governed by a transcendent reckoning in \\nconformity with the laws of an epoch. The sending (birth) of the son \\nnames this rupture. That it is the son, not the father, who is exemplary, \\nenjoins us not to put our trust any longer in any discourse laying claim to \\nthe form of mastery. \\nThat discourse has to be that of the son means that one must be \\nneither Judeo-Christian (prophetic mastery), nor Greco-Christian (philo­\\nsophical mastery), nor even a synthesis of the two. The opposing of a di­\\nagonalization of discourses to their synthesis is a constant preoccupation \\nof Paul's. It is John who, by turning the logos into a principle, will syn­\\nthetically inscribe Christianity within the space of the Greek logos, \\nthereby subordinating it to anti-Judaism. This is certainly not the way \\nPaul proceeds. For him, Christian discourse can maintain fidelity to the \\nson only by delineating a third figure, equidistant from Jewish prophecy \\nand the Greek logos. \\nThis attempt can only be accomplished through a sort of \\ndecline of \\nthe figure of \\nthe Master. And since there are two figures of the master, the \\none that legitimates itself on the basis of the cosmos, the master in wis-\\n\\n\\n44 \\nTheory o\\nf\\n Discourses \\ndom, the Greek master, and the one that legitimates itself according to \\nthe power of exception, the master of the letter and of signs, the Jewish \\nmaster, Paul will be neither a prophet nor a philosopher. Accordingly, the \\ntriangulation he proposes is: prophet, philosopher, apostle. \\nWhat exactly does \\\"apostle\\\" (a\\npostolos) mean? Nothing empirical or \\nhistorical in any case. In order to be an apostle, it is not necessary to have \\nbeen a companion of Christ, a witness to the event. Paul, who claims his \\nlegitimacy only from himself, and who, according to his own expression, \\nhas been \\\"called to be an apostle,\\\" explicitly challenges the pretension of \\nthose who, in the name of \\nwhat they \\nwere and saw, believe themselves to \\nbe guarantors of truth. He calls them \\\"those who are most esteemed,\\\" \\nand seems, for his own part, not to share this esteem. He also adds, \\n\\\"What they were makes no difference to me; God shows no partiality\\\" \\n(Gal. 2.6) . An apostle is neither a material witness, nor a memory. \\nAt a time when the importance of \\\"memory\\\" as the guardian of \\nmeaning and of historical consciousness as a substitute for politics is be­\\ning urged on us from all sides, the strength of Paul's position cannot fail \\nto escape us. For it is certainly true that memory does not prevent anyone \\nfrom prescribing time, including the past, according to its present deter­\\nmination. I do not doubt the necessity of remembering the extermina­\\ntion of the Jews, or the action of Resistance fighters. But I note that the \\nneo-Nazi maniac harbors a collector's memory for the period he reveres, \\nand that, remembering Nazi atrocities in minute detail, he relishes and \\nwishes he could repeat them. I see a number of informed people, some of \\nthem historians, conclude on the basis of their memory of the Occupa­\\ntion and the documents they have accumulated, that Petain had many \\nvirtues. Whence the obvious conclusion that \\\"memory\\\" cannot settle any \\nissue. There invariably comes a moment when what matters is to declare \\nin one's own name that what took place took place, and to do so because \\nwhat one envisages with regard to the actual \\npossibilities of \\na situation re­\\nquires it. This is certainly Paul's conviction: the debate about the Resur­\\nrection is no more a debate between historians and witnesses in his eyes \\nthan that about the existence of \\nthe gas chambers is in mine. We will not \\nask for proofs and counterproof\\ns. We will not enter into debate with eru­\\ndite anti-Semites, Nazis under the skin, with their superabundance of \\n\\\"proofs\\\" that no Jew was ever mistreated by Hitler. \\n\\n\\nTheor\\ny o\\nf\\n Discourses \\n45 \\nTo which it is necessary to add that the Resurrection-which is the \\npoint at which our comparison obviously collapses-is not, in Paul's own \\neyes, of the order of fact, falsifiable or demonstrable. It is pure event, \\nopening of an epoch, transformation of the relations between the possi­\\nble and the impossible. For the interest of Christ's resurrection does not \\nlie in itself, as it would in the case of a particular, or miraculous, fact. Its \\ngenuine meaning is that it testifies to the possible victory over death, a \\ndeath that Paul envisages, as we shall see later in detail, not in terms of \\nfacti \\ncity, but in terms of subjective disposition. Whence the necessity of \\nconstantly linking resurrection to our resurrection, of proceeding from \\nsingularity to universality and vice versa: \\\"If the dead do not resurrect, \\nChrist is not resurrected either. And if Christ is not resurrected, your \\nfaith is in vain\\\" (Cor. 1.15.16). In contrast to the fact, the event is measur­\\nable only in accordance with the universal multiplicity whose possibility \\nit prescribes. It is in this sense that it is grace, and not history. \\nThe apostle is then he who names this possibility (the Gospels, the \\nGood News, comes down to this: we can vanquish death). His discourse \\nis one of pure fidelity to the possibility opened by the event. It cannot, \\ntherefore, in any way (and this is the upshot of \\nPaul's antiphilosophy) fall \\nunder the remit of \\nknowledge. The philosopher knows eternal truths; the \\nprophet knows the univocal sense of \\nwhat will come (even if he delivers \\nit only through figures, through signs) . The apostle, who declares an \\nunheard-of possibility, one dependent on an evental grace, properly \\nspeaking knows nothing. To imagine that one knows, when it is a ques­\\ntion of subjective possibilities, is fraudulent: \\\"He who thinks he knows \\nsomething [egnokenai ti] , does not yet know as he ought to know\\\" (Cor. \\n1.8.2) . How is one to know when one is an apostle? According to the \\ntruth of a declaration and its consequences, which, being without proof \\nor visibility, emerges at that point where lmowledge, be it empirical or \\nconceptual, breaks down. In characterizing Christian discourse from the \\npoint of \\nsalvation, Paul does not hesitate to say: \\\"Knowledge [gnosis] will \\ndisappear\\\"(Cor. 1.13.8). \\nThe text wherein the characteristics of Christian discourse, insofar \\nas it delineates the subjective figute of the apostle, are recapitulated under \\nthe sign of an evental disappearance of the virtues of knowledge, can be \\nfound in the first epistle to the Corinthians: \\n\\n\\nTheory o\\nf\\n Discourses \\nFor Christ did not send me to baptize but to preach the gospel, and not with elo­\\nquent wisdom, lest the cross of Christ be emptied of its power. For the preach­\\ning of the cross is folly to those who are perishing, but to us who are saved it is \\nthe power of God. For it is written, \\\"I will destroy the wisdom of the wise, and \\nthwart the cleverness of the clever.\\\" Where is the wise man? Where is the scribe? \\nWhere is the debater of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the \\nworld? For since, in the wisdom of God, the world did not know God through \\nwisdom, it pleased God through the folly of \\nwhat we preach to save those who \\nbelieve. For Jews demand signs and Greeks seek wisdom, but we preach Christ \\ncrucified, a stumbling block to Jews and a folly to Gentiles, but to those who are \\ncalled, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God, and the wisdom of \\nGod. \\nFor the foolishness of God is wiser than men, and the weakness of God is \\nstronger than men. \\nFor consider your call, brethren; not many of \\nyou were wise according to \\nworldly standards, not many were powerful, not many \\nwere of \\nnoble birth, but \\nGod chose the foolish things of \\nthe world to conf\\nound the wise, and God chose \\nthe weak things of the world to confound the strong; God chose what is base \\nand despised in the world, and even things that are not, to bring to nought \\nthings that are, so that no one might glorify himself \\nin his presence. (Cor. 1.1.17-\\n29) \\nThe announcement of the gospel is made without the wisdom of \\nlanguage \\\"lest the cross of Christ be emptied of its power.\\\" What does it \\nmean for the event whose sign is the cross to be emptied of its power? \\nSimply, that this event is of such a character as to render the philosophi­\\ncal logos incapable of \\ndeclaring it. The underlying thesis is that one of \\nthe \\nphenomena by which one recognizes an event is that the former is like a \\npoint of \\nthe real [point de ree{j that \\nputs language into deadlock. This dead­\\nlock is folly (moria) for Greek discourse, which is a discourse of reason, \\nand it is a scandal (skandalon) for Jewish discourse, which insists on a sign \\nof divine power and sees in Christ nothing but weakness, abjection, and \\ncontemptible peripeteia. What imposes the invention of \\na new discourse, \\nand of \\na subjectivity that is neither philosophical nor prophetic (the apos­\\ntle), is precisely that it is only by means of such invention that the event \\nfinds a welcome and an existence in language. For established languages, \\nit is inadmissible because it is genuinely unnamable. \\nFrom a more ontological viewpoint, it is necessary to maintain that \\nChristian discourse legitimates neither the God of \\nwisdom (because God \\n\\n\\nTheor\\ny o\\nf\\n Discourses \\n47 \\nhas chosen the foolish things), nor the God of \\npower (because God has \\nchosen the weak and base things). But what unites these two traditional \\ndeterminations, and provides the basis for their rejection, is deeper still. \\nWisdom and power are attributes of God to the extent that they are at­\\ntributes of being. God is said to be the sovereign intellect, or to govern \\nthe world and men's destiny to the precise extent that pure intellect is the \\nsupreme point of being specified by a wisdom, and universal power that \\nwhose innumerable signs-equally signs of Being as that which is beyond \\nbeings-can be distributed or applied to the becoming of men. One \\nmust, in Paul's logic, go so far as to say that the Christ-event testifies that \\nGod is not the god of Being, is not Being. Paul prescribes an anticipatory \\ncritique of \\nwhat Heidegger calls onto-theology, wherein God is thought \\nas supreme being, and hence as the measure for what being as such is ca­\\npable of \\nThe most radical statement in the text we are commenting on is in \\nef\\nfect the following: \\\"God has chosen the things that are not [ta me ontaJ \\nin order to bring to nought those that are [ta ontaJ.\\\" That the Christ­\\nevent causes non \\nbeings rather than beings to arise as attesting to God; \\nthat it consists in the abolition of \\nwhat all previous discourses held as ex­\\nisting, or being, gives a measure of the ontological subversion to which \\nPaul's antiphilosophy invites the declarant or militant. \\nIt is through the invention of \\na language wherein folly, scandal, and \\nweakness supplant Imowing reason, order, and power, and wherein non­\\nbeing is the only legitimizable affirmation of being, that Christian dis­\\ncourse is articulated. In Paul's eyes, this articulation is incompatible with \\nany prospect (and there has been no shortage of them, almost from the \\ntime of \\nhis death onward) of a \\\"Christian philosophy.\\\" \\nPaul's position on the newness of Christian discourse relative to all \\nforms of knowledge and the incompatibility between Christianity and \\nphilosophy is so radical that it unsettles even Pascal. Yes, Pascal, that \\nother great figure of antiphilosophy, he who, under the modern condi­\\ntions of \\nthe subject of science, seeks to identifY the Christian subject, he \\nwho condemns Descartes (\\\"useless and uncertain\\\"), he who explicitly op­\\nposes the God of \\nAbraham, Isaac, and Jacob, to the God of \\nthe philoso­\\nphers and scientists; Pascal does not manage to understand Paul. \\nConsider for example fragment 547 of the Pensees: \\n\\n\\nTheory o\\nf\\n Discourses \\nWe know God only through Jesus Christ. Without this mediator, all communi­\\ncation with God is withdrawn; through Jesus Christ, we know God. All those \\nwho claimed to know God and sought to prove it without Jesus Christ furnished \\nonly impotent proof\\ns. But in order to prove \\nJesus Christ, we have the prophecies, \\nwhich are solid and palpable proof\\ns. And these prophecies, having been accom­\\nplished, and proved true by the event, mark the certainty of those truths, and \\nhence, the proof of \\nJesus Christ's divinity. By him and through him, we thus \\nknow God. Without that and without Scripture, without original sin, without \\nthe promise and advent of a necessary Mediator, one cannot furnish absolute \\nproof of God, or teach either sound doctrine or sound morality. But by Jesus \\nChrist and through Jesus Christ, one furnishes proof of God, and one teaches \\nmorality and doctrine. Thus, Jesus Christ is men's true God. \\nBut at the same time, we recognize our misery, for this God is nothing but \\nthe Redressor of our misery. Thus, we may properly know God only by recog­\\nnizing our iniquities. And those who have known God without knowing their \\nmisery have not glorified him but glorified themselves. Quia . . .  \\nnon cognovit \\nper \\nsapientiam . . .  \\nplacuit Deo per stultitiam praedicationis salvos \\nfacere. \\nThis text easily allows us to identify what Pascal and Paul have in \\ncommon: the conviction that the fundamental declaration has to do with \\nChrist. But from that point on, things begin to diverge from a twofold \\npoint of view. \\n1. With Paul, we notice a complete absence of the theme of media­\\ntion. Christ is not a mediation; he is not that through which we know \\nGod. Jesus Christ is the pure event, and as such is not a function, even \\nwere it to be a function of knowledge, or revelation. \\nWe are confronted here with a prof\\nound general problem: Can one \\nconceive of the event as a function, as a mediation? We should mention \\nin passing that this question ran through the entire epoch of revolution­\\nary politics. For many of \\nthose faithful to it, the revolution is not what ar­\\nrives, but what must arrive so that there can be something else; it is com­\\nmunism's mediation, the moment of the negative. Similarly, for Pascal, \\nChrist is a mediating figure, ensuring that we do not remain in a state of \\nabandonment and ignorance. For Paul, by contrast, just as for those who \\nthink a revolution is a self\\n-sufficient sequence of \\npolitical truth, Christ is \\na coming [une venue]; he is what interrupts the previous regime of dis­\\ncourses. Christ is, in himself and f\\nor himself, what happens to us. And \\nwhat is it that happens to us thus? We are relieved of \\nthe law. But the idea \\n\\n\\nTheory o\\nf\\n Discourses \\n49 \\nof \\nmediation remains legal; it enters into composition with wisdom, with \\nphilosophy. This question is decisive for Paul, because it is only by being \\nrelieved of \\nthe law that one truly becomes a son. And an event is falsified \\nif it does not give rise to a universal becoming-son. Through the event, \\nwe enter into filial equality. For Paul, one is either a slave, or a son. He \\nwould certainly have considered the Pascalian idea of mediation as still \\nbound to the legality of the Father, and hence as a muted negation of \\nevental radicality. \\n2. Only reluctantly does Pascal admit that Christian discourse is a \\ndiscourse of \\nweakness, folly, and nonbeing. Paul says \\\"folly of our preach­\\ning\\\"; Pascal translates it as \\\"knowledge of \\nour own ignorance.\\\" This is not \\na Pauline theme; misery for Paul always consisting in a subjection to law. \\nPascalian antiphilosophy is classical in that it remains bound to the con­\\nditions for knowledge. For Paul, it is not a question of \\nknowledge, but of \\nthe advent of \\na subject. Can there be another subject, a subjective path \\nother than the one we know, and which Paul calls the subjective path of \\nthe flesh? This is the one and only question, which no protocol of \\nknowl­\\nedge can help settle. \\nBecause of his desire to convince the modern libertine, Pascal is \\nhaunted by the question of \\nknowledge. His strategy requires that one be \\nable to reasonably prove the superiority of the Christian religion. It is nec­\\nessary to establish that the event fulfills the prophecies-singularly so in \\nthe case of \\nChrist's coming-that the New Testament legitimates the ra­\\ntional deciphering of the Old one (via the doctrine of manifest and hid­\\nden meaning). Correspondingly, the Old Testament draws its coherence \\nfrom that which, within it, signals toward the New. \\nPaul would have seen in tlle Pascalian theory of \\nthe sign and of \\ndou­\\nble meaning an unacceptable concession to Jewish discourse, just as he \\nwould have seen in the probabilistic argumentation of \\nthe wager, as well \\nas in the dialectical ratiocinations about the two infinites, an unacceptable \\nconcession to philosophical discourse. For Paul, the event has not come \\nto prove something; it is pure beginning. Christ's resurrection is neither \\nan argument nor an accomplishment. There is no proof \\nof \\nthe event; nor \\nis the event a proof Knowledge comes for Pascal where, for Paul, there is \\nonly faith. As a result, unlike Paul, Pascal considers it important to bal­\\nance Christian \\\"folly\\\" with a classical apparatus of \\nwisdom: \\n\\n\\nTheor\\ny o\\nf\\n Discourses \\nOur religion is wise and foolish. Wise, because it is the most knowledgeable, and \\nthe most well-based in miracles, prophecies, and so on. Foolish, because none of \\nthis makes one belong to it; it serves as a pretext for the condemnation of those \\nwho do not belong, but not for the belief of those who do belong. It is the cross \\nthat makes them believe, ne evacuata sit crux. And thus Saint Paul, who came in \\nwisdom and signs, says he came neither in wisdom nor signs, because he came to \\nconvert. But those who come only to convince can say that they come in wis­\\ndom and signs. \\nWe have here a perfect, entirely non-Pauline example of the Pas­\\ncalian technique. Let us give it a name: balanced contradiction. Pascal \\nopposes conversion and conviction. In order to convert, it is doubtless \\nnecessary to be on the side of folly, of the preaching of the cross. But in \\norder to convince, it is necessary to install oneself in the element of \\nproof \\n(miracles, prophecies, and so on). For Pascal, Paul hides his true identity. \\nHe acts through signs and wisdom, but because he wishes to convert, he \\nclaims not to. \\nThis Pascalian reconstruction of Paul is in fact indicative of \\nPascal's \\nreticence in the face of Pauline radicalism. For Paul expressly rejects.signs, \\nwhich belong to the order of \\nJewish discourse, as well as wisdom, which \\nbelongs to Greek discourse. He presents himself as deploying a subjective \\nfigure that has been subtracted from both, which means that neither mir­\\nacles, nor the rational exegesis of prophecies, nor the order of the world \\nhave any value when it comes to instituting the Christian subject. But for \\nPascal, miracles and prophecies are at the heart of the question: \\\"It is not \\npossible to reasonably believe against miracles\\\" (frag. 815); \\\"The greatest \\nof \\nChrist's proofs are prophecies\\\" (frag. 706). Without prophecies or mir­\\nacles, we would have no proof, and the superiority of Christianity could \\nnot be upheld before the tribunal of \\nreason, which means that we would \\nhave no chance of \\nconvincing the modern libertine. \\nFor Paul, on the contrary, it is precisely the absence of proof that \\nconstrains faith, which is constitutive of the Christian subject. \\nSo far as the prophecies are concerned, whether the Christ-event is \\ntheir realization is practically absent from Paul's preaching considered as \\na whole. Christ is precisely incalculable. \\nSo far as miracles are concerned, Paul, subtle politician, does not \\nrisk denying their existence. One even finds him occasionally hinting \\n\\n\\nTheor\\ny of Discourses \\nthat, like such and such among his rival thaumaturges, he is capable of \\nperforming them. He too could glory in supernatural raptures, if he so \\nwished. But this is what he will not do, exhibiting instead the subject's \\nweakness and the absence of signs and proof\\ns, as supreme proof. The de­\\ncisive passage is in Corinthians. II.I2.I-II: \\nI must glory; there is nothing to be gained by it, but I will come to visions and \\nrevelations of the Lord. I know a man in Christ who fourteen years ago was \\ncaught up to the third heaven . . .  \\nand he heard things that cannot be told, which \\nit is not lawful for man to utter \\n. . . .  \\nThough if I wish to glorifY myself\\n, I shall not \\nbe a fool, for I shall be spealcing the truth. But I refrain from it, so that no one \\nmay think more of me than he sees in me or hears from me \\n. . . .  \\nThe Lord said \\nto me: \\\"My grace is sufficient for you, for my strength is made perf\\nect in weak­\\nness.\\\" I will all the more gladly glory in my wealmess, that the power of Christ \\nmay rest upon me . . .  \\nfor when I am weal<, then I am strong. \\nClearly then, for Paul, miracles exist and have concerned him. He \\ndelineates a particular subjective figure, that of the \\\"exalted\\\" man, who \\nhas perhaps been summoned out of \\nhis body during the course of his life. \\nBut this figure is precisely not the one the apostle is going to present. The \\napostle must be accountable only for what others see and hear, which is \\nto say, his declaration. He has no need to glorify himself in the name of \\nthat other subject who has spoken with God, and who is like an Other \\nwithin himself (\\\"On behalf of such a man as this I will glory, but I will \\nnot glory on my own behalf, except in my wealmesses\\\" [Cor. II.I2.5]). \\nChristian discourse must, unwaveringly, refuse to be the discourse of \\nmir­\\nacle, so as to be the discourse of the conviction that bears a weakness \\nwithin itself. \\nLet us note in passing that Paul delineates, as if \\nin shadowy outline, \\na fourth possible discourse, besides the Greek (wisdom), the Jew (signs), \\nand the Christian (evental declaration). This discourse, which Pascal tries \\nto bring into the light of classical reason, would be that of the miracle, \\nand Paul gives it a name: subjective discourse of \\nglorification. It is the dis­\\ncourse of the ineffable, the discourse of nondiscourse. It is the subject as \\nsilent and mystical intimacy, inhabited by \\\"things that cannot be told \\n[arrheta rhemata] ,\\\" which would be better translated as \\\"unutterable ut­\\nterances\\\" (dires indifibles), only experienced by the subject who has been \\nvisited by miracle. But this fourth subjective figure, splitting the apostle \\n\\n\\n52 \\nTheory o\\nf\\n Discourses \\nagain, must not enter into the declaration, which, on the contrary, nour­\\nishes itself on the inglorious evidence of weakness. It is kept off to one \\nside, and unlike Pascal, Paul is convinced that Christian discourse has \\nnothing to gain by using it to glorify itself. The fourth discourse (mirac­\\nulous, or mystical) must remain unaddressed, which is to say that it can­\\nnot enter into the realm of \\npreaching. Paul is thereby ultimately more ra­\\ntional than Pascal: it is vain to want to justify a declaratory stance \\nthrough the apparel of \\nmiracle. \\nFor Paul, the fourth discourse will remain a mute supplement, en­\\nclosing the Other's share in the subject. He refuses to let addressed dis­\\ncourse, which is that of the declaration of faith, justify itself through an \\nunaddressed discourse, whose substance consists in unutterable utter­\\nances. \\nI believe this to be an important indication, one that concerns every \\nmilitant of a truth. There is never occasion to try to legitimate a declara­\\ntion through the private resource of a miraculous communication with \\ntruth. Let us leave truth to its subjective \\\"voicelessness,\\\" for only the \\nwork of its declaration constitutes it. \\nI shall call \\\"obscurantist\\\" every discourse that presumes to legiti­\\nmate itself \\non the basis of an unaddressed discourse. It has to be said that \\nPascal, when he wants to establish the preeminence of Christianity on the \\nbasis of miracles, is more obscurantist than Paul, probably because he \\nwants to mask the pure event behind the (libertine's) f\\nascination with a \\nreckoning of chances. \\nObviously, there is an element of cunning in Paul when he lets it be \\nunderstood, without boasting about it, but without keeping silent about \\nit either, that he is internally torn between the man of glorification, the \\n\\\"ravished\\\" subject, and the man of declaration and weakness. But it can­\\nnot be denied that there is in him, and he is alone in this among the rec­\\nognized apostles, an ethical dimension of \\nantiobscurantism. For Paul will \\nnot permit the Christian declaration to justify itself through the ineffa­\\nble. He will not allow the Christian subject to base his speech on the un­\\nutterable. \\nPaul is profoundly convinced that weakness will not be relieved \\nthrough a hidden force. Power is fulfilled in weakness itself. Let us say \\nthat, for Paul, the ethics of discourse consists in never suturing the third \\n\\n\\nTheory o\\nf\\n Discourses \\n53 \\ndiscourse (the public declaration of the Christ-event) to the fourth (the \\nglorification of \\nthe subject personally visited by miracle). \\nThis ethics is profoundly coherent. Supposing I invoke (as Pascal \\ndoes) the f\\nourth discourse (\\\"joys, tears of \\njoy . . .  \\n\\\"), and hence the private, \\nunutterable utterances, in order to j ustify the third (that of Christian \\nfaith), I relapse inevitably into the second discourse, that of the sign, the \\nJewish discourse. For what is a prophecy if not a sign of \\nwhat is to come? \\nAnd what is a miracle if not a sign of the transcendence of the True? By \\ngranting to the fourth discourse (mysticism) no more than a marginal \\nand inactive position, Paul keeps the radical novelty of \\nthe Christian dec­\\nlaration from relapsing into the logic of \\nsigns and proof\\ns. \\nPaul firmly holds to the militant discourse of wealmess. The decla­\\nration will have no other force than the one it declares and will not pre­\\nsume to convince through the apparel of prophetic reckoning, of the \\nmiraculous exception, or of \\nthe ineffable personal revelation. It is not the \\nsingularity of \\nthe subject that validates what the subject says; it is what he \\nsays that f\\nounds the singularity of the subject. \\nPascal, by way of \\ncontrast, opts simultaneously f\\nor convincing exe­\\ngesis, for the certainty of miracles, and for private meaning. He cannot \\nrelinquish proof, in the existential sense of the term, because he is of the \\nclassical era, and because his question is that of the Christian subject in \\nthe age of \\npositive science. \\nPaul's antiphilosophy is nonclassical, because he accepts that there \\nis no proof, even miraculous. Discourse's power of conviction is of an­\\nother order, and it is capable of shattering the form of reasoning: \\nFor the weapons of \\nour warfare are not carnal, but they have divine power to pull \\ndown strongholds. Through them, we destroy arguments and every proud ob­\\nstacle to the knowledge of \\nGod and tal<e every thought captive to obey Christ. \\n(Cor. II.r0-4-5) \\nIt is with this regime of a discourse without proof, without mira­\\ncles, without convincing signs, with this language of the naked event, \\nwhich alone captures thought, that the magnificent and famous \\nmetaphor in Corinthians II-4-7 resonates: \\\"But we have this treasure in \\nearthen vessels, to show that the greatness of this power belongs to God \\nand not to us.\\\" \\n\\n\\n54 \\nTheory 0\\n/\\n Discourses \\nThe treasure is nothing but the event as such, which is to say a \\ncompletely precarious having-taken-place. It must be borne humbly, with \\na precariousness appropriate to it. The third discourse must be accom­\\nplished in weakness, for therein lies its strength. It shall be neither logos, \\nnor sign, nor ravishment by the unutterable. It shall have the rude harsh­\\nness of public action, of naked declaration, without apparel other than \\nthat of its real content. There will be nothing but what each can see and \\nhear. This is the earthen vessel. \\nWhoever is the subject of \\na truth (oflove, of art, or science, or pol­\\nitics) knows that, in ef\\nfect, he bears a treasure, that he is traversed by an \\ninfinite power. Whether or not this truth, so precarious, continues to de­\\nploy itself depends solely on his subjective weakness. Thus, one may jus­\\ntifiably say that he bears it only in an earthen vessel, day after day endur­\\ning the imperative-delicacy and subtle thought-to ensure that nothing \\nshatters it. For with the vessel, and with the dissipation into smoke of \\nthe \\ntreasure it contains, it is he, the subject, the anonymous bearer, the her­\\nald, who is equally shattered. \\n\\n\\n5 \\nThe Division of the Subject \\nFor Paul to maintain that, under the condition of \\nthe Christ-event, \\nthere has been a choice for things that are not against things that are, in­\\ndicates in an exemplary way that in his eyes Christian discourse bears an \\nabsolutely new relation to its object. It is truly another figure of the real \\nthat is in question. This figure will deploy itself through the revelation \\nthat what constitutes the subject in its relation to this unheard-of real is \\nnot its unity, but its \\n'division. For, in reality, one subject is the weaving to­\\ngether of \\nt\\nwo subjective paths, which Paul names the flesh (sarx) and the \\nspirit (pneuma). And the real in turn, insofar as it is in some way \\n\\\"grasped\\\" by the two paths that constitute the subject, can be inflected \\naccording to two names: death (thanatos), or life (zoe). Insofar as the real \\nis that which is thought in a subjectivating thought, it will be possible to \\nmaintain, according to a difficult, central aphorism, that to gar \\nphronema \\ntes sarkos thanatos, to de phronema tou pneumatos zoe (Rom. 8.6), which, \\nin spite of the difficulty of identifying death as a thought, one must not \\nhesitate to translate as: \\\"The thought of \\nthe flesh is death; the thought of \\nthe spirit is lif\\ne.\\\" \\nAfter centuries during which this theme has been subjected to Pla­\\ntonizing (and therefore Greek) amendment, it has become almost im­\\npossible to grasp what is nevertheless a crucial point: The opposition be­\\ntween s\\npirit and \\nflesh has nothing to do with the opposition between the soul \\n\\n\\nThe Division o\\nf\\n the Sub\\nject \\nand the bod\\ny. That is precisely why both the one and the other are \\nthoughts, each identifying its real through an opposed name. If, evoking \\nhis existence as a persecutor prior to the Damascus conversion, Paul can \\naf\\nfirm that \\\"the very commandment which promised life, proved to be \\ndeath to me\\\" (Rom. 7.lO), it is because a subjective maxim is always taken \\nup in two possible senses, according to the flesh or according to the spirit, \\nwithout it being possible for any substantial distinction of \\nthe Greek kind \\n(soul and body, thought and sensibility) to unravel the subjective weav­\\ning. It is of the essence of the Christian subject to be divided, through its \\nfidelity to the Christ-evenr, into two paths that affect every subject in \\nthought. \\nThe theory of \\nsubjective division disqualifies what other discourses \\nidentify as their object. It is, in the guise of the even \\ntal character of the \\nreal, the upsurge (surrection) of \\nan other object. \\nIn Greek discourse, the object is the finite cosmic totality as so­\\njourn of thought. The real causes the (philosophical) desire to occupy \\nthe place allotted to you in adequate fashion, an allocation of places \\nwhose principle thought can recover. What thought identifies as properly \\nreal is a place, a sojourn, which the wise man knows it is necessary to \\nconsent to. \\nFor Paul, the Christ-event, which shears and undoes the cosmic to­\\ntality, is precisely what indicates the vanity of places. The real is attested \\nto rather as the refuse from every place, there where the subject rehearses \\nhis weakness: \\\"We have become, and are now, as the refuse of the world, \\nthe off\\nscouring of \\nall things\\\" (Cor. 1-4.13). One must therefore assume the \\nsubjectivity of refuse, and it is in the face of this abasement that the ob­\\nject of Christian discourse suddenly appears. \\nOne will note the consonance with certain Lacanian themes con­\\ncerning the ethics of the analyst: at the end of the treatment, the latter \\nmust, similarly, consent to occupy the position of refuse so that the \\nanalysand may endure some encounter with his or her real. By virtue of \\nwhich, as Lacan notes, the analyst comes very close to saintliness. \\nFor Jewish discourse, the object is elective belonging, exceptional \\nalliance between God and his people. The entirety of the real is marked \\nby the seal of that alliance and is gathered and manifested through the \\nobservance of the law. The real is set out on the basis of commandment. \\n\\n\\nThe Division o\\nf\\n the Sub\\nject \\n57 \\nThe exception that constitutes it is conceivable only through the imme­\\nmorial dimension of the law. \\nFor Paul, the Christ-event is heterogeneous to the law, pure excess \\nover every prescription, grace without concept or appropriate rite. The \\nreal can no more be what in elective exception becomes literalized in \\nstone as timeless law (Jewish discourse), than it is what comes or returns \\nto its place (Greek discourse). The \\\"folly of \\nour preaching\\\" will exempt us \\nfrom Greek wisdom by discontinuing the regime of \\nplaces and totality. It \\nwill exempt us from the Jewish law by discontinuing observances and \\nrites. The pure event can be reconciled neither with the natural Whole, \\nnor with the imperative of \\nthe letter. \\nFor him who considers that the real is pure event, Jewish and Greek \\ndiscourses no longer present, as they continue to do in the work of \\nLevi­\\nnas, the paradigm of a major difference for thought. This is the driving \\nforce behind Paul's universalist conviction: that \\\"ethnic\\\" or cultural dif­\\nference, of which the opposition between Greek and Jew is in his time, \\nand in the empire as a whole, the prototype, is no longer significant with \\nregard to the real, or to the new object that sets out a new discourse. No \\nreal distinguishes the first two discourses any longer, and their distinction \\ncollapses into rhetoric. As Paul declares, defying the evidence: \\\"There is \\nno distinction between Jew and Greek\\\" (Rom. lO.n). \\nMore generally, the moment the real is identified as event, malcing \\nway for the division of \\nthe subject, the figures of distinction in discourse \\nare terminated, because the position of the real instituted by them is re­\\nvealed, through the retroaction of the event, to be illusory. Similarly, for \\nthe subject divided according to the paths through which the real is \\ngrasped-that of the flesh and that of the spirit-the \\\"ethnic\\\" subjects \\nbrought aboLlt by Jewish law just as by Greek wisdom become disquali­\\nfied to the extent that they lay claim to the perpetuation of a full or un­\\ndivided subject, whose particular predicates it would be possible to enu­\\nmerate: genealogy, origin, territory, rituals, and so on. \\nTo declare the nondifference between Jew and Greek establishes \\nChristianity's potential universality; to found the subject as division, \\nrather than as perpetuation of a tradition, renders the subjective element \\nadequate to this universality by terminating the predicative particularity \\nof \\ncultural subjects. \\n\\n\\nT\\nhe Division o\\nf\\n the Sub\\nject \\nThere is no doubt that universalism, and hence the existence of any \\ntruth whatsoever, requires the destitution of established dif\\nferences and \\nthe initiation of a subject divided in itself by the challenge of having \\nnothing but the vanished event to face up to. \\nThe whole challenge is that a discourse configuring the real as pure \\nevent be consistent. Is this possible? Paul tries to pursue this path. \\nLet us emphasize once more that, since the event that he takes co \\nidentify the real is not \\nreal (because the Resurrection is a fable), he is able \\nto do so only by abolishing philosophy. This is probably what distin­\\nguishes Paul from contemporary anti \\nphilosophers \\n, who circumscribe the \\nreal-event within the realm of \\neffective truths: \\\"grand politics\\\" f\\nor Nietz­\\nsche; the archi-scientific analytic act for Lacan; mystical aesthetics for \\nWittgenstein. The result is that, so f\\nar as philosophy is concerned, Paul's \\nsubjective position is far more abrupt than the therapeutic approach of \\nthe moderns, who all want to cure thought from the philosophical sick­\\nness. Paul's thesis is not that philosophy is an error, a necessary illusion, a \\nphantasm, and so f\\north, but that there is no longer an admissible place \\nfor its pretension. The discourse of wisdom is definitively obsolete. This \\nis what, manufactured though it probably is, is symbolized by the acԯ \\ncount in the Acts of the Apostles of Paul's encounter with the Greek \\nphilosophers on the Areopagus. It seems that the philosophers burst out \\nlaughing as soon as Paul's harangue touched on the only real of any im­\\nport, which is the Resurrection. This Nietzschean laughter, in the sense \\nof the Antichrist, expresses a disjunction, and not an opposition. The dis­\\njunctive formula is \\\"the foolishness of God is wiser than men, and the \\nwealmess of God is stronger than men\\\" (Cor. 1.1.25). The primacy of \\nf\\nool­\\nishness over wisdom, and of \\nwealmess over strength, commands the dis­\\nsipation of \\nthe formula of mastery, without which philosophy cannot ex­\\nist. Henceforth, it is no longer even possible to discuss philosophy; one \\nmust declare its e\\nffective expiration, along with that of every figure of \\nmastery. \\nPaul never stops telling us that the Jews are looking f\\nor signs and \\n\\\"demanding miracles,\\\" that the Greeks are \\\"looking f\\nor wisdom\\\" and ask­\\ning questions, that the Christians declare Christ crucified. T\\no\\n demand­\\nto question-to declare: such are the verbal f\\norms proper to the three dis­\\ncourses, their subjective postures. \\n\\n\\nThe Division o\\nf\\n the Sub\\nject \\n59 \\nIf one demands signs, he who performs them in abundance be­\\ncomes a master for him who demands them. If one questions philosoph­\\nically, he who can reply becomes a master for the perplexed subject. But \\nhe who declares without prophetic or miraculous guarantees, without ar­\\nguments or proofs, does not enter into the logic of the master. Declara­\\ntion, in ef\\nfect, is not affected by the emptiness (of the demand) wherein \\nthe master installs himself. He who declares does not attest to any lack \\nand remains withdrawn from its fulfillment by the figure of the master. \\nThis is why it is possible for him to occupy the place of the son. To de­\\nclare an event is to become the son of that event. That Christ is Son is \\nemblematic of the way in which the evental declaration filiates the de­\\nclarant. \\nPhilosophy lmows only disciples. But a son-subject is the opposite \\nof a disciple-subject, because he is one whose lif\\ne is beginning. The pos­\\nsibility of \\nsuch a beginning requires that God the Father has filiated him­\\nself, that he has assumed the form of the son. It is by consenting to the \\nfigure of the son, as expressed by the enigmatic term \\\"sending,\\\" that the \\nFather causes us ourselves to come forth universally as sons. The son is he \\nfor whom nothing is lacking, f\\nor he is nothing but beginning. \\\"So \\nthrough God you are no longer a slave but a son, and if a son then an \\nheir\\\" (Gal. 4.7). \\nThe f\\nather, always particular, withdraws behind his son's universal \\nevidence. It is quite true that all postevental universality equalizes sons \\nthrough the dissipation of the particularity of the f\\nathers. Whence the \\nway in which every truth is marked by an indestructible youthfuLness. \\nLater, theology will indulge in all sorts of contortions in order to es­\\ntablish the substantial identity of Father and Son. Paul has no interest at \\nall in such Trinitarian questions. The antiphilosophical metaphor of the \\n\\\"sending of \\nthe son\\\" is enough for him, for he requires only the event and \\nrefuses all philosophical reinscription of this pure occurrence by means of \\nthe philosophical vocabulary of \\nsubstance and identity. \\nThe resurrected Son filiates all of humanity. This constitutes the \\nuselessness of the figure of knowledge and its transmission. For Paul, the \\nfigure of knowledge is itself a figure of slavery, like that of the law. The \\nfigure of mastery is in reality a fraud. One must depose the master and \\nfound the equality of sons. \\n\\n\\n60 \\nThe Division o\\nf\\n the Sub\\nject \\nThe most powerful expression of this equality, necessary correlate of \\nthis universality, can be found in Corinthians 1.3.9. We are all theou \\nsunergoi, God's coworkers. This is a magnificent maxim. Where the figure \\nof \\nthe master breaks down come those of the worker and of \\nequality, con­\\njoined. All equality is that of belonging together to a work. Indubitably, \\nthose participating in a truth procedure are coworkers in its becoming. \\nThis is what the metaphor of the son designates: a son is he whom an \\nevent relieves of the law and everything related to it for the benefit of \\na \\nshared egalitarian endeavor. \\nIt is nevertheless necessary to return to the event, upon which \\neverything depends, and particularly the sons, coworkers in the enterprise \\nof \\nTruth. What must the event be for universality and equality to belong \\ntogether under the aegis of \\nthe universal son? \\nFor Paul, the event is certainly not the biography, teachings, re­\\ncounting of miracles, aphorisms with a double meaning, of a particular \\nindividual: to wit, Jesus. The rule that applies to the divided Christian \\nsubject, and which privileges the active real of the declaration over private \\nillumination, impersonal faith over particular exploits, also applies to Je­\\nsus. In the case of the latter, Paul, once again, will not deny that the Son · \\nenjoyed internal communication with the divine, that he was inhabited \\nby unutterable utterances, and that, so f\\nar as miraculous cures, multipli­\\ncation of loaves, walking on water, and other amazing feats are con­\\ncerned, he was the equal of any of the charlatans that abounded in the \\nempire's eastern provinces. He simply reminds us, even if only by delib­\\nerately neglecting to mention these extraneous virtuosities, that none of \\nthis is enough to found a new era of \\nTruth. What the particular individ­\\nual named Jesus said and did is only the contingent material seized upon \\nby the event in view of an entirely different destiny. In this sense, Jesus is \\nneither a master nor an example. He is the name for what happens to us \\nuniversally. \\nNietzsche, f\\nor whom Paul approaches the gospel accounts with \\\"the \\ncynicism of a rabbi,\\\" perfectly perceived the apostle's complete indiffer­\\nence to the anecdotal gentleness with which these accounts are filled. For \\nNietzsche, this is an instance of deliberate falsification, one wherein the \\nhatred of \\nlife and the lust for power are given free rein: \\n\\n\\nThe Division o\\nf\\n the Sub\\nject \\n61 \\nThe life, the example, the teaching, the death, the meaning and the right of the \\nentire Gospel-nothing was left once this hate-obsessed counterfeiter had \\ngrasped what alone he could make us of. N\\not the reality, not the historical truth! \\n. . .  \\nPaul simply shif\\nted the centre of gravity of that entire existence beyond \\nthis \\nexistence-into the lie of the \\\"resurrected\\\" Jesus. In f\\nact, he could make no use \\nat all of the redeemer's life-he needed the death on the Cross and \\nsomething in \\naddition. ( T\\nhe Anti-Christ, §42) \\nThis is not inaccurate. Like every genuine theoretician of truth, \\nPaul, as we have seen, does not believe that there can be a \\\"historical \\ntruth.\\\" Or rather, he does not believe truth to be a matter of history, of \\nwitnessing, of memory. Nietzsche, for his part, did not believe it either, \\nfor his genealogical doctrine is in no way historical. And it is true that, in \\nPaul's eyes, without the motif of the Resurrection, Christ's existence \\nwould have been of little more importance than that of any other Orien­\\ntal mystic, however talented. \\nBut Nietzsche is not precise enough. When he writes that Paul \\nneeds only Christ's death \\\"and something in addition,\\\" he should em­\\nphasize that this \\\"something\\\" is not \\\"in addition\\\" to death, that it is for \\nPaul the unique point of the real onto which his thought fastens. And \\nthus that, if he \\\"shifted the center of \\ngravity of \\nthat [Christ's] entire exis­\\ntence beyond this existence,\\\" it is neither in accordance with death, nor \\nin accordance with hate, but in accordance with a principle of overexis­\\ntence on the basis of which lif\\ne, affirmative life, was restored and re­\\nfounded for all. \\nDoes not Nietzsche himself \\nwant to \\\"shift the center of gravity\\\" of \\nmen's life beyond their contemporary nihilist decadence? And does he \\nnot require for this operation three closely related themes of \\nwhich Paul \\nis the inventor: to wit, that of the self-legitimating subjective declaration \\n(the character of Zarathustra), the breaking of History in two (\\\"grand \\npolitics\\\"), and the new man as the end of guilty slavery and affirmation \\noflife (the Overman)? If Nietzsche is so violent toward Paul, it is because \\nhe is his rival far more than his opponent. The result being that he \\\"falsi­\\nfies\\\" Paul at least as much as, if not more than, Paul \\\"falsified\\\" Jesus. \\nTo say that Paul shifted \\\"the center of \\ngravity of life out of life into \\nthe 'Beyond'-into Nothingness,\\\" and that in so doing he \\\"deprived lif\\ne \\n\\n\\nThe Division o\\nf\\n the Sub\\nject \\nas such of its centre of gravity\\\" ( The Anti-Christ, §43), is to maintain the \\nvery opposite of the apostle's teaching, for whom it is here and now that \\nlife takes revenges on death, here and now that we can live af\\nfirmatively, \\naccording to the spirit, rather than negatively, according to the flesh, \\nwhich is the thought of death. For Paul, the Resurrection is that on the \\nbasis of \\nwhich life's center of \\ngravity resides in life, whereas previously, be­\\ning situated in the Law, it organized lif\\ne's subsumption by death. \\nIn reality, the core of the problem is that Nietzsche harbors a gen­\\nuine loathing for universalism. Not always: this mad saint is a violent liv­\\ning contradiction, a brealcing in two of himself. But where Paul is con­\\ncerned, yes: \\\"The poison of the doctrine 'equal rights for all'-this has \\nbeen more thoroughly sowed by Christianity than by anything else\\\" ( The \\nAnti-Christ, §43). Where God is concerned, Nietzsche extols the virtues \\nof \\nthe most obstinate particularism, the most unbridled racial communi­\\ntarianism: \\\"Formerly he [God] represented a people, the strength of a \\npeople, everything aggressive and thirsting for power in the soul of \\na peo­\\nple \\n. . . .  \\nThere is in f\\nact no other alternative f\\nor Gods: either they are the \\nwill to power-and so long as they are that they will be national Gods­\\nor else the impotence for power\\\" ( The Anti-Christ, §r6) . What Nietz­\\nsche-on this point remaining a German \\\"mythologue\\\" (in Lacoue­\\nLabarthe's sense of the term)-cannot forgive Paul for is not so much to \\nhave willed Nothingness, but to have rid us of these sinister \\\"national \\nGods\\\" and to have formulated a theory of \\na subject who, as Nietzsche ad­\\nmirably, albeit disgustedly, puts it, is universally, \\\"a rebel . . .  \\nagainst \\neverything privileged\\\" ( T\\nhe Anti-Christ; §46). \\nMoreover, while protesting against Paul in the name of \\\"historical \\ntruth,\\\" Nietzsche does not seem to have appropriately situated the apos­\\ntle's preaching relative to the canonical shaping of the gospel narratives. \\nHe pays little attention to the fact that these narratives, wherein he claims \\nto discern the \\\"psychology of the Redeemer\\\" (a Buddha of decadence, a \\npartisan of the quiet, empty life, \\\"the last man\\\"), were composed and or­\\nganized long af\\nter Paul fiercely seized upon the only point that is super­\\nnumerary relative to this \\\"Buddhist\\\" edification: the Resurrection. \\nBut nothing is more indispensable than to keep in mind the tem­\\nporal relation between the synoptic Gospels, in which the edifYing anec­\\ndote is essential, and Paul's epistles, charged from beginning to end with \\n\\n\\nThe Division of the Sub\\nject \\n63 \\nthe revolutionary announcement of \\na spiritual history that has been bro­\\nken in t\\nwo. The Gospels literally come twenty years later. The Pauline \\nreference is of \\na different substance. The event is not a teaching; Christ is \\nnot a master; disciples are out of the question. Jesus is certainly \\\"lord\\\" \\n(kurios), and Paul his \\\"servant\\\" (doulos). But the Christ-event establishes \\nthe authority of a new subjective path over future eras. The fact that we \\nmust serve a truth procedure is not to be confused with slavery, which is \\nprecisely that from which we are forever released insof\\nar as we all become \\nsons of \\nwhat has happened to us. The relation between lord and servant \\ndiffers absolutely from that between master and disciple, as well as from \\nthat between owner and slave. It is not a relation of \\npersonal, or legal, de­\\npendence. It is a community of \\ndestiny in that moment in which we have \\nto become a \\\"new creature.\\\" That is why we need retain of Christ only \\nwhat ordains this destiny, which is indif\\nferent to the particularities of \\nthe \\nliving person: Jesus is resurrected; nothing else matters, so that Jesus be­\\ncomes like an anonymous variable, a \\\"someone\\\" devoid of predicative \\ntraits, entirely absorbed by his resurrection. \\nThe pure event is reducible to this: Jesus died on the cross and res­\\nurrected. This event is \\\"grace\\\" (kharis). Thus, it is neither a bequest, nor \\na tradition, nor a teaching. It is supernumerary relative to all this and \\npresents itself \\nas pure givenness. \\nAs subject to the ordeal of \\nthe real, we are hencef\\north constituted by \\nevental grace. The crucial f\\normula-which, it must be noted, is simulta­\\nneously a universal address-is: ou gar este hupo nomon alL' \\nhupo kharin, \\n\\\"for you are not under law, but under grace\\\" (Rom. 6.14) .  A structuring \\nof \\nthe subject according to a \\\"not . . .  \\nbut\\\" through which it must be un­\\nderstood as a becoming rather than a state. For the \\\"not being under law\\\" \\nl'legatively indicates the path of the flesh as suspension of the subject's \\ndestiny, while \\\"being under grace\\\" indicates the path of the spirit as fi­\\ndelity to the event. The subject of the new epoch is a \\\"not . . .  \\nbut.\\\" The \\nevent is at once the suspension of the path of the flesh through a prob­\\nlematic \\\"not,\\\" and the affirmation of the path of the spirit through a \\n\\\"but\\\" of exception. Law and grace are for the subject the name of the \\nconstituting weave through which he is related to the situation as it is and \\nto the ef\\nfects of \\nthe event as they have to become. \\nWe shall maintain, in effect, that an evental rupture always consti-\\n\\n\\n64 \\nT\\nhe Division o\\nf\\n the Sub\\nject \\ntutes its subject in the divided f\\norm of a \\\"not . . .  \\nbut,\\\" and that it is pre­\\ncisely this form that bears the universal. For the \\\"not\\\" is the potential dis­\\nsolution of closed particularities (whose name is \\\"law\\\"), while the \\\"but\\\" \\nindicates the task, the faithful labor, in which the subjects of the process \\nopened up by the event (whose name is \\\"grace\\\") are the coworkers. The \\nuniversal is neither on the side of \\nthe flesh as conventional lawfulness and \\nparticular state of the world, nor on the side of the pure spirit, as private \\ninhabitation by grace and truth. The Jewish discourse of the rite and the \\nlaw is undermined by the event's superabundance, but, equally, the arro­\\ngant discourse of \\ninternal revelation and the unutterable is abolished. The \\nsecond and f\\nourth discourses must be revoked because they unify the sub­\\nject. Only the third discourse holds to its division as a guarantee of uni­\\nversality. If the event is able to enter into the constitution of the subject \\ndeclaring it, it is precisely because through it, and irrespective of the par­\\nticularity of persons, it ceaselessly redivides the two paths, distributing \\nthe \\\"not . . .  \\nbut,\\\" which, through an endless process, sets aside the law \\nthe better to enter into grace. \\n\\n\\n6 \\nThe Antidialectic of Death \\nand Resurrection \\nWe said: the event consists in Jesus, the Christ, dying on the cross \\nand coming back to life. What is death's function in this affair? Does \\nPaul's thought ultimately constitute, as Nietzsche believed, a moribund \\nparadigm, an eventalization of \\nthe hatred of life? \\nOr again: Is the Pauline conception of the event dialectical? Is the \\npath of affirmation always that of the labor of the negative, so that \\\"the \\nlife of the spirit is the lif\\ne that withstands death and maintains itself in \\nit\\\"? We know how much the Hegelian apparatus owes to Christianity, \\nand how dialectical philosophy incorporates the theme of a Calvary of \\nthe Absolute. In that case, resurrection is nothing but the negation of \\nthe \\nnegation, death is the decisive time of the Infinite's self-externalization, \\nand suffering and martyrdom possess an intrinsically redemptive func­\\ntion, which, it has to be said, corresponds to a Christian imagery that has \\nbeen omnipresent for centuries. \\nIf the theme of resurrection becomes caught up in the dialectical \\napparatus, it must be conceded that the event as supernumerary given­\\nness and incalculable grace is dissolved into an auto-foundational and \\nnecessarily deployed rational protocol. It is certainly true that Hegelian \\nphilosophy, which is the rational edge of German romanticism, effects a \\ncapture of the Christ-event. In Hegel, grace becomes a moment in the \\nself-development of the Absolute, and the material of death and suffering \\n\\n\\n66 \\nT\\nhe Antidialectic of Death and Resurrection \\nis the due required so that spirituality, externalizing itself in finitude, can \\nreturn into itself through the experienced intensity of \\nself-consciousness. \\nI shall maintain that Paul's position is anti \\ndialectical, and that for it \\ndeath is in no way the obligatory exercise of the negative's immanent \\npower. Grace, consequently, is not a \\\"moment\\\" of the Absolute. It is af­\\nfirmation without preliminary negation; it is what comes upon us in \\ncaesura of \\nthe law. It is pure and simple encounter. \\nThis de-dialectization of the Christ-event allows us to extract a for­\\nmal, wholly secularized conception of grace from the mythological core. \\nEverything hinges on knowing whether an ordinary existence, breaking \\nwith time's cruel routine, encounters the material chance of serving a \\ntruth, thereby becoming, through subjective division and beyond the \\nhuman animal's survival imperatives, an immortal. \\nIf \\nPaul helps us to seize the link between evental grace and the uni­\\nversality of the True, it is so that we can tear the lexicon of grace and en­\\ncounter away from its religious confinement. That materialism is never \\nanything but the ideology of the determination of the subjective by the \\nobjective disqualified it philosophically. Or let us posit that it is incum­\\nbent upon us to found a materialism of grace through the strong, simple \\nidea that every existence can one day be seized by what happens to it and \\nsubsequently devote itself to that which is valid for all, or as Paul mag­\\nnificently puts it, \\\"become all things to all men [tois pasi gegona ta \\npantaJ\\\" \\n(Cor. 1.9.22). \\nYes, we are the beneficiaries of certain graces, ones for which there \\nis no need to invoke an All-Powerful. \\nFor Paul himself, who certainly upholds and exalts the transcendent \\nmachinery, the event is not death, it is resurrection. \\nLet us, on this delicate point, provide a few indications. \\nSuffering plays no role in Paul's apologetic, not even in the case of \\nChrist's death. The weak, abject character of that death is certainly im­\\nportant for him, insofar as the treasure of \\nthe event-we have already said \\nwhy-has to reside in an earthen vessel. But for Paul, that the force of a \\ntruth is immanent to that which is weakness and folly so far as the estab­\\nlished discourses are concerned, never entails that suffering possesses an \\nintrinsically redemptive function. The share of suffering is inevitable; \\nsuch is the law of the world. But hope, wagered by the event and the sub-\\n\\n\\nThe Antidialectic o\\nf\\n Death and Resurrection \\nject who binds himself to it, distributes consolation as that suffering's \\nonly real, here and now: \\\"Or hope for you is unshaken, for we know that \\nas you share in our sufferings, you will also share in our consolation\\\" \\n(Cor. II.I.?). In fact, the glory tied to the thought of \\\"invisible things\\\" is \\nincommensurable with the inevitable suf\\nferings inflicted by the ordinary \\nworld: \\\"For these slight momentary afflictions are preparing for us an \\neternal weight of glory beyond all comparison\\\" (Cor. 1I.4.17). \\nWhen Paul speaks of \\nhis own suf\\nferings it is in accordance with a \\nstrictly militant logic. It is a matter of convincing dissident groups, or \\nones tempted by the adversary, that he, Paul, is well and truly the risk­\\ntaking, disinterested man of \\naction he claims to be. This is particularly so \\nin the second epistle to the Corinthians, marked by a very noticeable po­\\nlitical anxiety, in which Paul alternates flattery and threats (\\\"I beg of \\nyou \\nthat when I am present I may not have to show boldness with such con­\\nfidence as I count on showing against some\\\" [Cor. II.lO.2]). At this point, \\ndeployed as part of a tactic in which pleas are combined with rivalry, \\nthere comes the powerful description of the hardships endured by the no­\\nmadic leader: \\nOften near death, five times I have received at the hands of the Jews the forty \\nlashes less one. Three times I have been beaten with rods; once I was stoned. \\nThree times I have been shipwrecked; a night and a day I have been adrift at sea; \\non frequent journeys, in danger from rivers, danger from robbers . . .  \\ndanger in \\nthe city, danger in the wilderness, danger at sea, danger from false brethren, in \\ntoil and hardship, through many a sleepless night, in hunger and thirst, often \\nwithout food, in cold and exposure. (Cor. II.II.23-27) \\nBut the conclusion of this biographical passage, entirely designed to \\nconfound those who \\\"when they measure themselves by one another and \\ncompare themselves with one another, are without understanding\\\" (Cor. \\nII.lO.l2), ascribes no redemptive signification to the apostle's tribulations. \\nHere again, as always, it is a question of the earthen vessel, of the \\npostevental bearing of \\nwealcness, of \\nthe destitution of \\nthe worldly criteria \\nof glory: \\\"If I must glory, I will glory in the things that show my weak­\\nness\\\" (Cor. ILI1.3o) . \\nLet us propose the formula: in Paul, there is certainly the Cross, but \\nno path of the Cross. There is Calvary, but no ascent to Calvary. Ener-\\n\\n\\n68 \\nThe AntidiaLectic o\\nf\\n Death and \\nResurrection \\ngetic and urgent, Paul's preaching includes no masochistic propaganda \\nextolling the virtues of suffering, no pathos of the crown of thorns, flag­\\nellation, oozing blood, or the gall-soaked sponge. \\nWe come now to the Cross. \\nFor Paul, death cannot be the operation of \\nsalvation. For it is on the \\nside of flesh and the law. It is, as we have seen, the configuration of the \\nreal through the subjective path of the flesh. Not only has it no sacred \\nfunction, no spiritual assignation; it cannot have one. \\nTo understand its function, it is once more necessary to forget the \\nPlatonic apparatus of the soul and the body, of the soul's survival, or its \\nimmortality. Paul's thought ignores these parameters. The death about \\nwhich Paul tells us, which is ours as much as Christ's, has nothing bio­\\nlogical about it, no more so for that matter than life. Death and life are \\nthoughts, interwoven dimensions of the global subject, wherein \\\"body\\\" \\nand \\\"soul\\\" are indiscernible (which is why, for Paul, the Resurrection is \\nnecessarily resurrection of \\nthe body-that is to say, resurrection of the di­\\nvided subject in its entirety). Grasped as thought, as subjective path, as \\nway of being in the world, death is that part of the divided subject that \\nmust, again and always, say \\\"no\\\" to the flesh and maintain itself in the \\nprecarious becoming of the spirit's \\\"but.\\\" \\nDeath, which is the thought of (= according to) the flesh cannot be \\nconstitutive of the Christ-event. Death is, moreover, an Adamic phe­\\nnomenon. It was, properly speaking, invented by Adam, the first man. \\nCorinthians 1.I5.22 is perfectly clear on this point: \\\"For as by a man came \\ndeath, by a man has come also the resurrection of the dead. For as in \\nAdam all die, so also in Christ shall all be made alive.\\\" Death is as ancient \\nas the first man's choice of a rebellious freedom. What constitutes an \\nevent in Christ is exclusively the Resurrection, that anastasis nekron that \\nshould be translated as the raising up of \\nthe dead, their uprising, which is \\nthe uprising of life. \\nWhy then must Christ die, and to what ends does Paul expand on \\nthe symbol of the cross? \\nIn the text above, one must pay careful attention to the fact that \\nonly the resurrection of a man can in a certain sense accord with or be sit­\\nuated on the same level as the invention of death by a man. Christ in­\\nvents lif\\ne, but can do so only insofar as he, just like the inventor of \\ndeath, \\n\\n\\nThe AntidiaLectic o\\nf\\n Death and Resurrection \\nis a man, a thought, an existence. Ultimately, Adam and Jesus, the first \\nAdam and the second Adam, incarnate, at the scale of \\nhumanity's destiny, \\nthe subjective weave rhat composes, as constituting division, any singular \\nsubject whatsoever. Christ dies simply in order to attest that it well and \\ntruly is a man who, capable of inventing death, is also capable of invent­\\ning life. Or: Christ dies in order to manifest that, in spite of his also be­\\ning caught up in rhe human invention of \\ndeath, it is from this very point \\n(indexing what humanity is capable of) that he invents life. \\nIn sum, death is only required insof\\nar as, with Christ, divine inter­\\nvention must, in its very principle, become strictly equal to the human­\\nity of man, and hence to the thought that dominates him, which as sub­\\nject is called \\\"flesh,\\\" and as object \\\"death. \\\" When Christ dies, we, \\nmankind, shall cease to be separated from God, since by filiating Himself \\nwith the sending of his Son, He enters into the most intimate proximity \\nto our thinking composition. \\nSuch is the unique necessity of Christ's death: it is the means to an \\nequality with God himself. Through this thought of the flesh, whose real \\nis death, is dispensed to us in grace the fact of being in the same element \\nas God himself. Death here names a renunciation of transcendence. Let \\nus say that Christ's death sets up an immanentization o\\nf\\n the spirit. \\nPaul is perfectly aware that maintaining a radical transcendence of \\nthe Father allows neither the event, nor the rupture with the legal order. \\nFor only the deathly immobility of the Law, that \\\"minister of death, \\ncarved in letters on stone\\\" (Cor. 11.3.7), can occupy the abyss separating \\nus from God. \\nIn Romans 6-4-9, Paul establishes that a doctrine of the real as \\nevent has conditions of immanence, and that we can enter into relation \\nwith death only insofar as God enters into relation with it. The operation \\nof \\ndeath thereby constructs the site of \\nour divine equality within human­\\nity itself: \\nWe were buried theref\\nore with him by baptism into death, so that as Christ was \\nraised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of \\nlife. \\nFor if \\nwe have been united with him in a death like his, we shall certainly \\nbe united with him in a resurrection like his. We know that our old self \\nwas cru­\\ncified with him so that the sinf\\nul body might be destroyed, and we might no \\n\\n\\n70 \\nThe Antidialectic o\\nf\\n Death and Resurrection \\nlonger be enslaved to sin. For he who has died is free from sin. But if we have \\ndied with Christ, we believe that we shall also live with him. For we know that \\nChrist being raised from the dead will never die again. \\nThe text is explicit: death as such counts for nothing in the opera­\\ntion of \\nsalvation. It functions as a condition of immanence. We conf\\norm \\nto Christ insofar as he conforms to us. The cross (we have been crucified \\nwith Christ) is the symbol of \\nthat identity. And this conformity is possi­\\nble because death is not a biological fact but a thought of the flesh, one \\nof whose names-an extremely complex one, to which we shall come \\nback-is \\\"sin.\\\" Paul calls this immanentization a \\\"reconciliation\\\" (katal­\\nlage): \\\"For if while we were enemies of God we were reconciled to him by \\nthe death of his Son, much more, now that we are reconciled, shall we be \\nsaved by his life\\\" (Rom. 5.10). \\nIt is imperative not to confuse katallage, reconciliation, which is the \\noperation of \\ndeath, with soteria, salvation, which is the even \\ntal operation \\nof resurrection. The f\\normer immanentizes the conditions of the latter \\nwithout thereby rendering the latter necessary. Through Christ's death, \\nGod renounces his transcendent separation; he unseparates himself \\nthrough filiation and shares in a constitutive dimension of the divided \\nhuman subject. In so doing he creates, not the event, but what I call its \\nsite. The evental site is that datum that is immanent to a situation and \\nenters into the composition of the event itself, addressing it to this singu­\\nlar situation, rather than another. Death is construction of \\nthe evental site \\ninsofar as it brings it about that resurrection (which cannot be inf\\nerred \\nfrom it) wi!! have been addressed to men, to their subjective situation. \\nReconciliation is a given of the site, a virtual indication-inoperative by \\nitself\\n-of the extent to which Christ's resurrection consists in the inven­\\ntion of a new life by man. Resurrection alone is a given of the event, \\nwhich mobilizes the site and whose operation is salvation. \\nUltimately, to understand the relation between kata!!age and \\nsoteria, which is just as much the relation between death and life, is to \\nunderstand that, for Paul, there is an absolute disjunction between \\nChrist's death and his resurrection. For death is an operation in the situ­\\nation, an operation that immanentizes the evental site, while resurrection \\nis the event as such. Hence the fact that Paul's argument is f\\noreign to all \\n\\n\\nThe Antidia!ectic o\\nf\\n Death and Resurrection \\n7I \\ndialectics. Resurrection is neither a sublation, nor an overcoming of \\ndeath. They are two distinct functions, whose articulation contains no \\nnecessity. For the event's sudden emergence never follows from the exis­\\ntence of an evental site. Although it requires conditions of immanence, \\nthat sudden emergence nevertheless remains of \\nthe order of \\ngrace. \\nThis is why Nietzsche goes completely astray when he turns Paul \\ninto the archetypal priest, power subordinated to the hatred of life. We \\nare all familiar with the diatribe: \\nThen Paul appeared \\n. . . .  \\nPaul, Chandala hatred against Rome, against \\\"the \\nworld,\\\" become flesh and genius, the Jew, the eternal Jew par excellence \\n. . . .  \\nThis \\nwas his vision on the road to Damascus: he grasped that to disvalue \\\"the world\\\" \\nhe needed the belief in immortality, that the concept \\\"Hell\\\" will master even \\nRome-that with the \\\"Beyond\\\" one kills life \\n. . . .  \\nNihilist and Christian: they \\nrhyme, and do not merely rhyme. ( The Anti-Christ, §58) \\nNothing in this text fits. We have already said enough to under­\\nstand that \\\"belief in immortality\\\" is no concern of Paul's, who would f\\nar \\nrather see affirmation triumph over negation, life over death, the new \\nman (the overman?) over the old man; that, in the case of \\na man who was \\nparticularly proud of his Roman citizenship, the hatred against Rome is \\nNietzsche's invention; that \\\"the world\\\" that Paul declares has been cruci­\\nfied with Jesus is the Greek cosmos, the reassuring totality that allots \\nplaces and orders thought to consent to those places, and that it is conse­\\nquently a question of letting in the vital rights of the infinite and the un­\\ntotalizable event; that no mention is made of \\nhell in Paul's preaching, and \\nthat it is a characteristic of \\nhis manner never to appeal to fear and always \\nto courage; finally, that \\\"to kill life\\\" is certainly not the intent of he who \\nasks with a sort of savage joy: \\\"0 death, where is thy victory?\\\" (Cor. \\n1.15.55). Paul's program would be better summarized by the formula \\\"to \\nkill death.\\\" \\nHe who demanded Dionysian affirmation, him who, like Paul, be­\\nlieved himself to be breaking the history of the world in two, and to be \\neverywhere substituting life's \\\"yes\\\" for nihilism's \\\"no,\\\" would have f\\nound \\nbetter inspiration by citing this passage: \\nFor the Son of God, Jesus Christ, whom we preached among you, Silvanus and \\nTimothy and I, was not Yes and No; but in him it is always Yes. (Cor. ILI.I9) \\n\\n\\nThe Antidialectic of Death and Resurrection \\nThis is what Paul is about: not the cult of \\ndeath but the f\\noundation of \\na \\nuniversal \\\"yes.\\\" \\nSimilarly, he who wished that, beyond good and evil, beyond rites \\nand priests, the new man, the overhumanity of \\nwhich humanity is capa­\\nble, might come f\\north, could have invoked Paul in his f\\navor, the Paul who \\ndeclares, in a very Nietzschean tone: \\\"For neither circumcision counts for \\nanything, nor uncircumcision, but being a new creature\\\" (Gal. 6.15). \\nNietzsche is Paul's rival far more than his opponent. Both share the \\nsame desire to initiate a new epoch in human history, the same convic­\\ntion that man can and must be overcome, the same certainty that we \\nmust have done with guilt and law. Is he not Nietzsche's brother, the Paul \\nwho declares: \\\"For if there was splendor in the dispensation of condem­\\nnation, the dispensation of righteousness must far exceed it in splendor\\\" \\n(Cor. II.3.9) ?  \\nThey share the same-sometimes brutal-combination of \\nvehemence and saintly gentleness. The same touchiness. The same cer­\\ntainty as to being personally chosen. Nietzsche expounding the reasons \\nwhy he is \\\"a destiny\\\" is the counterpart to the Paul who knows he has \\nbeen \\\"set apart for the gospel of God\\\" (Rom. I.I). And finally, they share \\nthe same universality of address, the same global wandering. In order to \\nf\\nound a grand (and even, he says, a \\\"very grand\\\") politics, Nietzsche \\nquestions the resources of all peoples, declares himself Polish, wants to \\nenter into alliance with the Jews, writes to Bismarck. . . .  \\nAnd in order \\nnot to become prisoner of \\nany local group or provincial sect, Paul travels \\nideally throughout the empire and rebuts those who wish to pin him \\ndown with: \\\"I am under obligation both to the Greeks and to barbarians, \\nboth to the wise and to the f\\noolish\\\" (Rom. 1.14). \\nThe truth is that both brought anti \\nphilosophy to the point where it \\nno longer consists in a \\\"critique,\\\" however radical, of the whims and pet­\\ntinesses of the metaphysician or sage. A much more serious matter is at \\nissue: that of \\nbringing about through the event an unqualified affirmation \\noflife against the reign of \\ndeath and the negative. Of \\nbeing he who, Paul \\nor Zarathustra, anticipates without flinching the moment wherein \\\"death \\nis engulf\\ned in victory\\\" (Cor. 1.15.54). \\nDespite being close to Nietzsche from this point of \\nview, Paul is ob­\\nviously not the dialectician he is sometimes taken to be. It is not a ques­\\ntion of denying death by preserving it, but of engulfing it, abolishing it. \\n\\n\\nThe Antidialectic of Death and Resurrection \\n73 \\nNeither is Paul, like the early Heidegger, a proponent of being-toward­\\ndeath and finitude. In the divided subject, the part of being-to \\nward-death \\nis that which still says \\\"no,\\\" that which does not want to let itself be car­\\nried away by the exceptional \\\"but\\\" of grace, of the event, of \\nlife. \\nUltimately, for Paul, the Christ-event is nothing but resurrection. It \\neradicates negativity, and if, as we have already said, death is required for \\nthe construction of its site, it remains an af\\nfirmative operation that is ir­\\nreducible to death itself \\nChrist has been pulled ek nekriin, out from the dead. This extrac­\\ntion from the mortal site establishes a point wherein death loses its power. \\nExtraction, subtraction, but not negation: \\\"But if we have died with \\nChrist, we believe that we shall also live with him. For we know that \\nChrist being raised from the dead will never die again; death no longer \\nhas dominion over him\\\" (Rom. 6.8-9). \\n. \\nDeath, as the Son's human site, is nothing but powerlessness when \\nsubjected to the evental trial of resurrection. Resurrection suddenly \\ncomes forth out \\nfrom the power of death, not through its negation. \\nOne could say: the Christ-event, the f\\nact of there having been this \\nparticular son, out from the power of \\ndeath, retroactively identifies death \\nas a path, a dimension of the subject, and not a state of af\\nfairs. Death is \\nnot a destiny but a choice, as is shown by the f\\nact that we can be offered, \\nthrough the subtraction of death, the choice of life. And thus, strictly \\nspeaking, there is no being-toward-death; there is only ever a path-of­\\ndeath entering into the divided composition of every subject. \\nIf \\nresurrection is af\\nfirmative subtraction from the path of \\ndeath, we \\nhave to understand why, in Paul's eyes, this-radically singular-event \\nprovides the basis for a universalism. What is it in this resurrection, this \\n\\\"out from the dead,\\\" that has the power to suspend differences? Why, if \\na man is resurrected, does it follow that there is neither Greek nor Jew, \\nneither male nor female, neither slave nor free man? \\nThe resurrected is what filiates us and includes itself in the generic \\ndimension of the son. It is essential to remember that for Paul, Christ is \\nnot identical with God, that no Trinitarian or substantialist theology up­\\nholds his preaching. Wholly f\\naithful to the pure event, Paul restricts him­\\nself \\nto the metaphor of \\n\\\"the sending of \\nthe son.\\\" As a result, for Paul, it is \\nnot the infinite that died on the cross. Certainly, the construction of \\nthe \\n\\n\\n74 \\nThe Antidialectic of \\nDeath and Resurrection \\nevental site requires that the son who was sent to us, terminating the \\nabyss of transcendence, be immanent to the path of \\nthe flesh, of \\ndeath, to \\nall the dimensions of the human subject. In no way does this entail that \\nChrist is the incarnation of a God, or that he must be thought of \\nas the \\nbecoming-finite of the infinite. Paul's thought dissolves incarnation in res­\\nurrection. \\nHowever, although resurrection is not the \\\"Calvary of the Ab­\\nsolute,\\\" although it mobilizes no dialectic of the incarnation of Spirit, it \\nis nevertheless true that it suspends diff\\nerences f\\nor the benefit of \\na radical \\nuniversality, and that the event is addressed to all without exception, or \\ndefinitively divides every subject. This is precisely what, in terms of the \\nRoman world, constitutes a staggering innovation. It can be illuminated \\nonly by scrutinizing the names of death and the names of life. First \\namong the names of \\ndeath, however, is Law. \\n\\n\\n7 '-----\\nPaul Against the Law \\nT\\nwo statements seem jointly to concentrate, In a perilous \\nmetonymy, Paul's teaching: \\n1 .  Faith is what saves us, not works. \\n2. We are no longer under the rule of law, but of \\ngrace. \\nThere would thus seem to be four concepts coordinating a subject's fun­\\ndamental choices: pistis (f\\naith) and er\\ngon (work) ; Maris (grace) and nomos \\n(law). The subjective path of the flesh (sarx), whose real i death, coordi­\\nnates the pairing oflaw and works. While the path of \\nthe spirit (pneuma), \\nwhose real is lif\\ne, coordinates that of \\ngrace and £'lith. Between the two lies \\nthe new real object, the evental given, traversing \\\"the redemption which \\nis in Christ Jesus,\\\" passing through dia tes apolutroseos tes en K\\nhristoi Iesou \\n(Rom. 3.24). \\nBut why is it necessary to reject law onto the side of death? Because \\nconsidered in its particularity, that of the works it prescribes, the law \\nblocks the subjectivation of \\ngrace's universal address as pure conviction, \\nor faith. The law \\\"objectifies\\\" salvation and forbids (me from relating it to \\nthe gratuitousness of the Christ-event. In Romans 3.27-30, Paul clearly \\nindicates what is at issue, which is the essential link between event and \\nuniversality when it is a question of the One, or more simply of one truth: \\nThen what becomes of our boasting? It is excluded. On what principle? On the \\nprinciple of \\nworks? No, but on the principle of faith. For we hold that a man is \\n\\n\\nPaul \\nAgainst the Law \\njustified by faith apart from works of law. Or is God the God of the Jews only? \\nIs he not the God of Gentiles also? Yes, of Gentiles also, since God is one; and he \\nwill justify the circumcised on the grounds of their faith and the uncircumcised \\nthrough their faith. \\nThe fundamental question is that of knowing precisely what it \\nmeans f\\nor there to be a single God. What does the \\\"mono\\\" in \\\"monothe­\\nism\\\" mean? Here Paul confronts-but also renews the terms of\\n-the f\\nor­\\nmidable question of the One. His genuinely revolutionary conviction is \\nthat the sign o\\nf\\n the One is the \\\"for all, \\\" or the \\\"without exce\\nption. \\\" That \\nthere is but a single God must be understood not as a philosophical spec­\\nulation concerning substance or the supreme being, but on the basis of a \\nstructure of address. The One is that which inscribes no difference in the \\nsubjects to which it addresses itself. The One is only insof\\nar as it is for all: \\nsuch is the maxim of universality when it has its root in the event. \\nMonotheism can be understood only by talcing into consideration the \\nwhole of humanity. Unless addressed to all, the One crumbles and disap­\\npears. \\nBut, for Paul, the law always designates a particularity, hence a dif­\\nference. It is not possible for it to be an operation of the One, because it \\naddresses its f\\nallacious \\\"One\\\" only to those who acknowledge and prac­\\ntice the injunctions it specifies. \\nThe ontological structure underlying this conviction (though Paul \\nhas no interest whatsoever in ontology) is that no evental One can be the \\nOne of a particularity. The universal is the only possible correlate f\\nor the \\nOne. The general apparatus of a truth contains the One (divine tran­\\nscendence, monotheism, according to the Pauline f\\nable), the universal \\n(the whole of humanity, both circumcised and uncircumcised), and the \\nsingular (the Christ-event). The particular, which pertains to opinion, \\ncustom, law, cannot be inscribed in it. \\nWhat can measure up to the universality of an address? Not legal­\\nity, in any case. The law is always predicative, particular, and partial. \\nPaul is perfectly aware of the law's unfailingly \\\"statist\\\" character. By \\\"sta­\\ntist\\\" I mean that which enumerates, names, and controls the parts of a \\nsituation. If a truth is to surge f\\north eventally, it must be nondenumer­\\nable, impredicable, uncontrollable. This is precisely what Paul calls \\ngrace: that which occurs without being couched in any predicate, that \\n\\n\\nPaul \\nAgainst the Law \\n77 \\nwhich is translegal, that which happens to everyone without an assigna­\\nble reason. Grace is the opposite of law insof\\nar as it is what comes with­\\nout being due. \\nThis is a profound insight of Paul's, which, through its universal \\nand illegal understanding of the One, undoes every particular or com­\\nmunitarian incorporation of the subject, as well as every juridical or con­\\ntractual approach to its constitutive division. That which \\nfounds a sub\\nject \\ncannot be what is due to it. For this foundation binds itself to that which \\n\\u000bs declared in : radical contingency. If one understands man's humanity \\n111\\n terms of hIS subjective capacity, there is, strictly speaking, nothing \\nwhatsoever like a \\\"right\\\" of man. \\nThe polemic against the \\\"what is due,\\\" against the logic of right \\nand duty, lIes at the heart of \\nthe Pauline refusal of \\nworks and law: \\\"T\\no one \\nwho works, his wages are not reckoned as a grace but as his due\\\" (Rom. \\n4·4)· But for Paul, nothing is due. The salvation of the subject cannot \\ntake. the .form of a reward or wage. The subjectivity of faith is unwaged \\n(whIch, 111\\n the final analysis, entitles us to call it communist). It pertains \\nto the granting of a gift, kharisma. Every subject is initiated on the basis \\n?f a charisma;. every subject is charismatic. Since the subjectivating point \\nIS the declaratlOn of \\nthe event, rather than the work that demands a wage \\nor r9ward, the declaring subject exists according to the charisma proper \\nto hIm. Every subjectivity confronts its division within the element of an \\nesse8tial.gratuitousness proper to its purpose. The redemptive operation \\nconSIsts 111\\n the occurrence of \\na charisma. \\nThere is in Paul a fundamental link between universalism and \\ncharisma, between the One's universal power of \\naddress, and the absolute \\ngratuitousness of militantism. Thus, in Romans 3.22-24, he will state: \\n\\\"For there is no distinction [diastole, which means \\\"difference\\\"] , since all \\nhave sinn7d and f\\nall short of \\nthe glory of \\nGod, by his grace they are justi­\\nfied as a gIft [dorean], through the redemption which is in Christ Jesus.\\\" \\nDorean is a powerful word; it means \\\"as a pure gift,\\\" \\\"without \\ncause,\\\" and even \\\"in vain.\\\" There is for Paul an essential link between the \\n\\\"f\\nor all\\\" of the universal and the \\\"without cause.\\\" There is an address for \\nall on.ly according to that which is without cause. Only what is absolutely \\ngratuItous can be addressed to all. Only charisma and grace measure up \\nto a universal problem. \\n\\n\\nPaul Against the Law \\nThe subject constituted by charisma through the gratuitous prac­\\ntice of \\nthe universal address necessarily maintains that there are no diff\\ner­\\nences. Only what is charismatic, thus absolutely without cause, possesses \\nthis power of being in excess of the law, of collapsing established diff\\ner­\\nences. \\nThis is the root of \\nthe famous Pauline theme concerning the super­\\nabundance of grace. The law governs a predicative, worldly multiplicity, \\ngranting to each part of \\nthe whole its due. Evental grace governs a multi­\\nplicity in excess of \\nitself, one that is indescribable, superabundant relative \\nto itself as well as with respect to the fixed distributions of \\nthe law. \\nThe profound ontological thesis here is that universalism supposes \\none be able to think the multiple not as a part, but as in excess of itself\\n, \\nas that which is out of \\nplace, as a nomadism of \\ngratuitousness. If by \\\"sin\\\" \\none understands the subjective exercise of \\ndeath as path of \\nexistence, and \\nhence the legal cult of \\nparticularity, one thereby understands that what is \\nmaintained of the event (which is to say, a truth, whatever it may be) is \\nalways in impredicable excess of everything circumscribed by \\\"sin.\\\" This \\nis precisely what is said by the famous text of Romans 5.20-21: \\nLaw came in, to increase the trespass; but where sin increased, grace abounded \\nall the more, so that, as sin reigned in death, grace also might reign through \\nrighteousness to eternal life through Jesus Christ, our Lord. \\nThe two subjective paths, death and life, whose nonrelation constitutes \\nthe divided subject, are also two types of multiplicity: \\n• The particularizing multiplicity, the one accompanied by its own \\nlimit, maJ.·ked by the predicate of its limit. The law is its cipher or \\nletter. \\n• The multiplicity that, exceeding itself\\n, upholds universality. Its be­\\ning in excess of \\nitself \\nprecludes its being represented as a totality. Su­\\nperabundance cannot be assigned to any Whole. That is precisely \\nwhy it legitimates the destitution of diff\\nerence, a destitution that is \\nthe very process of excess. \\nWhat is called \\\"grace\\\" is the capacity of \\na postevental multiplicity to \\nexceed its own limit, a limit that has a commandment of the law as its \\ndead cipher. The opposition grace/law encompasses two doctrines of the \\nmultiple. \\n\\n\\nPaul \\nAgainst the Law \\n79 \\nIt remains to be understood why the subjective theme associated \\nwith law is that of \\nsin. Here we face an extremely complex intrigue. Nev­\\nertheless, what entails that \\\"law\\\" is henceforth one of \\nthe names of death \\nin subjective composition. \\nIn fact, what is at issue is desire (e\\npithumia), which there is no rea­\\nson to translate here by a \\\"concupiscence\\\" that has far too strong a whif\\nf \\nof the confessional about ir. Bef\\nore proceeding onto the subject's \\\"new \\nlif\\ne,\\\" the most profound grasp of the connections between desire, law, \\ndeath, and lif\\ne is necessary. \\nPaul's fundamental thesis is that the law, and only the law, endows \\ndesire with an autonomy sufficient for the subject of \\nthis desire, from the \\nperspective of that autonomy, to come to occupy the place of the dead. \\nThe law is what gives lif\\ne to desire. But in so doing, it constrains the \\nsubject so that he wants to follow only the path of \\ndeath. \\nWhat is sin exactly? It is not desire as such, for if it were one would \\nnot understand its link to the law and death. Sin is the life of desire as au­\\ntonomy, as automatism. The law is required in order to unleash the auto­\\nmatic lif\\ne of desire, the automatism of repetition. For only the law fixes \\nthe object of \\ndesire, binding desire to it regardless of the subject's \\\"will.\\\" \\nIt is this objectal automatism of desire, inconceivable witho'ut the law, \\nthat assigns the subject to the carnal path of death. \\nClearly, what is at issue here is nothing less than the problem of \\nthe \\nunconscious (Paul calls it the involuntary, what I do not want, ho ou the­\\nlif). The life of \\ndesire fixed and unleashed by the law is that which, de­\\ncentered from the subject, accomplishes itself as unconscious automa­\\ntism, with respect to which the involuntary subject is capable only of \\ninventing death. \\nThe law is what, by designating its object, delivers desire to its \\nrepetitive autonomy. Desire thereby attains its automatism in the form of \\na transgression. How are we to understand \\\"transgression\\\"? There is trans­\\ngression when what is prohibited-which is to say, negatively named by \\nthe law-becomes the object of \\na desire that lives through itself in the site \\nand place of the subject. Paul condenses this intersecting of the impera­\\ntive, desire, and subjective death, thus: \\\"For sin, finding opportunity in \\nthe commandment, seduced me and by it killed me\\\" (Rom. 7.n). \\nDifficult to imagine a more anti-Kantian disposition than the one \\n\\n\\n80 \\nPaul \\nAgainst the Law \\nwhich, by calling the autonomy of \\ndesire \\\"sin\\\" when its object is fixed by \\nthe law's commandment, designates the effect of the latter as the subject's \\ncoming to occupy the place of the dead. \\nUp to now we have been anticipating. But everything is spelled out \\nin what is perhaps Paul's most famous, yet also most intricate text, Ro­\\nmans 7.7-23, a text I will cite in its entirety before carrying on with its \\nelucidation. \\nWhat then shall we say? That the Law is sin? By no means! Yet if \\nit had not been \\nfor the Law, I should not have known sin. I should not have known what it is to \\ncovet if the Law had not said, \\\"You shall not covet.\\\" But sin, finding opportunity \\nin the commandment, wrought in me all kinds of covetousness. Apart from the \\nLaw sin lies dead. I was once alive apart from the Law, but when the command­\\nment came, sin revived and I died; the very commandment that promised life \\nproved to be death to me. For sin, finding opportunity in the commandment, \\nseduced me and by it killed me. So the Law is holy, and the commandment IS \\nholy and just and good. \\n. \\nDid that which is good, then, bring death to me? By no means! It was Sill, \\nworking death in me through what is good, in order that sin might be shown to \\nbe sin, and through the commandment might become sinful beyond measure. \\nWe know that the Law is spiritual; but I am carnal, sold under sin. I do not un­\\nderstand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I \\nhate. Now, if I do what I do not want, I agree that the Law is good. So then it is \\nno longer I that do it, but sin which dwells within me. For I know that nothing \\ngood dwells within me, that is, in my flesh. I can will what is right, but I cannot \\ndo it. For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do. \\nNow ifI do what I do not want, it is no longer I that do it, but sin which dwells \\n111\\n me. \\nSo I find it to be a law that when I want to do right, evil lies close at hand. \\nFor I delight in the Jaw of God, in my inmost self, but I see in my members an­\\nother law at war with the law of my mind and making me captive to the law of \\nsin that dwells in my members. \\nAll of Paul's thinking here points toward a theory of the subjective \\nunconscious, structured through the opposition life/death. The law's pro­\\nhibition is that through which the desire of the object can realize itself \\n\\\"involuntarily,\\\" unconsciously-which is to say, as life of sin. As a result \\nof \\nwhich the subject, de-centered f\\nrom this desire, crosses over to the side \\nof death. \\n\\n\\nPaul \\nAgaimt the Law \\n8r \\nWhat matters to Paul is that this experience (he is manifestly speak­\\ning about himself, almost in the style of \\nAugustine's Con\\nfessiom) causes to \\nappear, under condition of \\nthe law, a singular disposition, wherein, if the \\nsubject is on the side of \\ndeath, life is on the side of sin. \\nIf \\nthe subject is to swing over into another disposition, one wherein \\nhe would be on the side of \\nlif\\ne, and sin-that is to say, the automatism of \\nrepetition-would occupy the place of the dead, it is necessary to break \\nwith the law. Such is Paul's implacable conclusion. \\nHow is the subject of \\na universal truth structured, once his division \\nis no longer sustained by law? Resurrection summons the subject to iden­\\ntifY himself \\nas such according to the name of \\nfaith (pistis). This means: in­\\ndependently of \\nthe results, or prescribed forms, that will be called works. \\nIn the guise of the event, the subject is subjectivation. The word pistis \\n(faith, or conviction) designates precisely this point: the absence of any \\ngap between subject and subjectivation. In this absence of a gap, which \\nconstantly activates the subject in the service of truth, forbidding him \\nrest, the One-truth proceeds in the direction of all. \\nBut perhaps we can, at this particular juncture, recapitulating and \\ngeneralizing the figures occasioned in Paul by the virulence of the fable, \\narrange what is imbued with a materialist import by means of two theo­\\nrems and thus delineate our materialism of grace. \\nTheorem 1. The One is only insofar as it is for all, and follows not \\nfrom the law, but f\\nrom the event. \\nIt is in the retroaction of \\nthe event that the universality of \\na truth is \\nconstituted. The law is inappropriate to the \\\"for all\\\" because it is always \\nthe statist law, the law that controls parts, the particular law. The One is \\nonly in default of the law. Universality is organically bound to the con­\\ntingency of \\nwhat happens to us, which is the senseless superabundance of \\ngrace. \\nTheorem 2. It is the event alone, as illegal contingency, which \\ncauses a multiplicity in excess of itself to come forth and thus allows \\nf\\nor the possibility of overstepping finitude. The subjective corollary, \\nperfectly established by Paul, is that every law is the cipher of \\na fini­\\ntude. This is precisely what entails that it bind itself to the path of \\n\\n\\n82 \\nPaul \\nAgainst the Law \\nthe flesh and, ultimately, death. That which prohibits monotheism \\nby particularizing its address, also prohibits the infinite. \\nBut let us, for a moment more, pursue the labyrinth of the epistle \\nto the Romans. \\nWe have already pointed it out in the text: without the law, there is \\nno liberated, autonomous, automatic desire. There is an indistinct, undi­\\nvided life, perhaps something like Adamic life, before the fall, before the \\nlaw. Paul is invoking a kind of inf\\nancy when he says: \\\"Once I was alive \\napart from the Law.\\\" For this \\\"lif\\ne\\\" is not the one that constitutes the en­\\ntire real that belongs to the path of the spirit in the divided subject. \\nRather, it is a life that unseparates the two paths, the life of a subject who \\nis supposed as full, or undivided. If one supposes that there is this \\\"be­\\nfore\\\" of \\nthe law, one supposes an innocent subject, one who has not even \\ninvented death. Or rather, death is on the side of desire: 'Apart from the \\nlaw sin lies dead.\\\" This means: apart from the law, there is no living au­\\ntonomy of desire. In the indistinct subject, desire remains an empty, in­\\nactive category. That which will later be the path of death, or that which \\nmakes the subject swing over into the place of the dead, is not living. \\\"Be­\\nfore the law,\\\" the path of death is dead. But by the same token, this in­\\nnocent lif\\ne remains foreign to the question of \\nsalvation. \\n\\\"With the law,\\\" the subject has definitively exited from unity, from \\ninnocence. His putative indistinction can no longer be maintained. De­\\nsire, whose object is designated by the law, finds itself \\ndetermined-au­\\ntonomized-as transgressive desire. With the law, desire regains lif\\ne; it be­\\ncomes a full, active category. There is a constitution of the carnal path \\nthanks to the objectal multiplicity that the law carves out through prohi­\\nbition and nomination. Sin appears as the automation of \\ndesire. \\nBut the path of sin is that of \\ndeath. Consequently, it becomes pos­\\nsible to say that (and this lies at the heart of \\nPaul's discourse) with the law, \\nthe path o\\nf\\n death, which was itself \\ndead, becomes alive once more. The law \\ngives life to death, and the subject as life according to the spirit f\\nalls onto \\nthe side of \\ndeath. The law distributes life on the side of \\nthe path of \\ndeath, \\nand death on the side of the path of life. \\nThe death of \\nlife is the Self \\n(in the position of \\nthe dead) . The life of \\ndeath is sin. \\nNote the powerful paradox in this disjunction between (dead) Self \\n\\n\\nPaul \\nAgainst the Law \\nand (living) sin. It signifies that it is never I who sin, it is sin that sins in \\nme: \\\"Sin took hold of me through the commandment and by it killed \\nme.\\\" And \\\"It is no longer I who act, but the sin that inhabits me.\\\" Sin as \\nsuch does not interest Paul, who is everything except a moralist. What \\ncounts is its subjective position, its genealogy. Sin is the life of \\ndeath. It is \\nthat of \\nwhich the law, and the law alone, is capable. The price paid for \\nthis is that life occupies the place of the dead under the auspices of the \\nSelf \\nThe extreme tension running through this text comes from the fact \\nthat Paul is striving to articulate a de-centering of the subject, a particu­\\nlarly contorted form of \\nits division. Since the subject of \\nlife is in the place \\nof death and vice versa, it follows that knowledge and will, on the one \\nhand, agency and action, on the other, are entirely disconnected. This is \\nthe empirically verifiable essence of \\nexistence according to the law. More­\\nover, a parallel can be drawn between this de-centering and the Lacanian \\ninterpretation of the cogito (there where I think, I am not, and there \\nwhere I am, I do not think). \\nLet us generalize a little. For Paul, the man of the law is one in \\nwhom doing is separated from thinking. Such is the consequence of se­\\nduction by commandment. This figure of the subject, wherein the divi­\\nsion lies between the dead Self and the involuntary automation of living \\ndesire, is, for thought, a figure of powerlessness. Basically, sin is not so \\nmuch a fault as living thought's inability to prescribe action. Under the \\neffect of the law, thought disintegrates into powerlessness and endless \\ncogitation, because the subject (the dead Self) is disconnected from a \\nlimitless power: that of desire's living automation. \\nAccordingly, we will posit that: \\nTheorem 3. The law is what constitutes the subject as powerlessness \\nof thought. \\nBut the law consists above all in the letter's force of commandment. The \\nterrible formula in Corinthians 11.3.6 is well known: to gramma apoleten­\\nnei, to de pneuma zoopoiei, \\\"the letter kills, but the spirit gives lif\\ne.\\\" It is \\nfollowed by a mention of \\\"the dispensation of \\ndeath, carved in letters on \\nstone\\\" (Cor. I1.3.7). The letter mortifies the subject insofar as it separates \\nhis thought from all power. \\n\\n\\nPaul \\nAgainst the Law \\nWe shall define \\\"salvation\\\" (Paul says: justified life, or justification) \\nthus: that thought can be unseparated from doing and power. There is \\nsalvation when the divided figure of \\nthe subject maintains thought in the \\npower of \\ndoing. This is what, for my part, I call a truth procedure. \\nAccordingly, we have: \\nTheorem 4. There is no letter of \\nsalvation, or literal f\\norm f\\nor a truth \\nprocedure. \\nThis means that there can be a letter only of automatism, of \\ncalcu­\\nlation. The corollary follows: there is calculation only of \\nthe letter. There \\nis a reckoning only of death. Every letter is blind and operates blindly. \\nWhen the subject is under the letter, or literal, he presents himself \\nas a disconnected correlation between an automatism of doing and a \\npowerlessness of \\nthought. \\nIf one defines \\\"salvation\\\" as the ruin of \\nthis disjunction, it is clear \\nthat it will depend on a lawless eruption, unchaining the point of power­\\nlessness from automatism. \\nIt is important to understand and recapitulate the anti \\ndialectic of \\nsalvation and sin. Salvation is the unchaining of the subjective figure \\nwhose name is sin. We have seen, in eff\\nect, that sin is a subjective struc­\\nture, and not an evil act. Sin is nothing but the permutation of the places \\nof life and death under the effect of \\nthe law, which is precisely why Paul, \\ndispensing with the need for a sophisticated doctrine of original sin, can \\nsimply say: we are in sin. When salvation unblocks the subjective mech­\\nanism of sin, it becomes apparent that this unchaining consists in a delit­\\neralization of the subject. \\nThis deliteralization is conceivable only if one admits that one of \\nthe paths of the divided subject is transliteral. So long as we are \\\"under \\nthe law,\\\" this path remains dead (it is in the posture of the Self). Resur­\\nrection alone allows it to become active once more. The extrication of \\ndeath and life, in the case where life occupied the position of death's re­\\nmainder, becomes perceptible solely on the basis of the excess of grace, \\nthus, of a pure act. \\n\\\"Grace\\\" means that thought cannot wholly account for the brutal \\nstarting over on the path of life in the subject, which is to say, f\\nor the re­\\ndiscovered conjunction between thinking and doing. Thought can be \\n\\n\\nPaul \\nAgainst the Law \\nraised up from its powerlessness only through something that exceeds the \\norder of thought. \\\"Grace\\\" names the event as condition for an active \\nthought. The condition is itself inevitably in excess of \\nwhat it conditions, \\nwhich is to say that grace is partly subtracted from the thought that it \\ngives lif\\ne to. Or, as Mallarme-that Paul of \\nthe modern poem-will put \\nit: it is certain that every thought emits a dice-throw, but it is just as cer­\\ntain that it will be unable to ultimately think the chance that has thus en­\\ngendered it. \\nFor Paul, the figure of the chiasmus death/lif\\ne, coordinated by the \\nlaw, can be raised up, which is to say, permutated once again, only \\nthrough an implacable operation bearing on death and life, and this op­\\neration is resurrection. Only a resurrection redistributes death and lif\\ne to \\ntheir places, by showing that lif\\ne does not necessarily occupy the place of \\nthe dead. \\n\\n\\n- --K\\n8 L-\\n_\\n_\\n_\\n_ \\n_ \\nLove as Universal Power \\nIt has been established that no morality-if one understands by \\n\\\"morality\\\" practical obedience to a law-can justify the existenc6 o\\n \\na \\nsubject: \\\"A man is not justified by works of the law but :hrough .falth m \\nJesus Christ\\\" (Gal. 2.16). What is more, the Christ-e5ent IS essentl\\tly t\\be \\nabolition of the law, which was nothing but the empIre of death: ChrISt \\nredeemed us from the curse of the law\\\" (Gal. 3-13). Just as, under the law, \\nthe subject, de-centered from the automatic lif\\ne of desire, occupied the \\nplace of the dead, and sin (or unconscious desire) enjoyed an autono­\\nmous life in him, similarly, having been sprung from death by resurrec­\\ntion, the subject participates in a new life, whose name is Christ. Christ's \\nresurrection is just as much OLlr resurrection, shattering that death \\nwherein the subject, under the law, had exiled himself in the closed form \\nof the Self: \\\"If I live, it is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in \\nme\\\" (Gal. 2.20). By the same token, if one persists in supposing that \\ntruth and justice can be obtained by observing legal commandments, oԮe \\nmust return toward death, assert that no grace has been accorded us m \\nexistence, and deny the Resurrection: \\\"I do not nullify the grace of God; \\nfor if \\njustification [dikaiosune] were through the law, then Christ died to \\nno purpose\\\" (Gal. 2.21). \\n.\\n.\\n \\n. \\nIs this to say that the subject who binds himself to Chnstlan dIS­\\ncourse is absolutely LawLess? In the passage of the epistle to the Romans \\n\\n\\nLove as UniversaL Power \\n87 \\nthat we examined at length, various clues point toward the opposite, \\nobliging us to raise the extraordinarily difficult question concerning the \\nexistence of \\na transLiteraL Law, a Law of the s\\npirit. \\nFor at the very moment in which he sets out to depose the law and \\nelucidate its relation to unconscious avidity, Paul points out that \\\"the law \\nis holy, and the commandment is holy and just and good [he entoLe hagia \\nkai dikaia kai agathel\\\" (Rom. 7.12). What is more, apparently overturn­\\ning at a stroke all of \\nthe foregoing dialectic, he asserts that \\\"the law is spir­\\nitual rho nomos \\npneumatikos]\\\" (Rom. 7.14). \\nThus, it seems necessary to distinguish between a legalizing subjec­\\ntivation, which is a power of \\ndeath, and a law raised up by faith, which \\nbelongs to the spirit and to life. \\nOur task consists in thinking the apparent contradiction between \\ntwo statements: \\n1. \\\"Christ is the end of \\nthe law [teLos nomou K\\nhristos]\\\" (Rom. lOA). \\n2. \\\"Love is the fulfilling of the law [pLeroma nomou he agape]\\\" \\n(Rom. 13.10). \\nUnder the condition o f  \\nfaith, o f  \\na declared conviction, love names \\na nonliteral law, one that gives to the faithful subject his consistency, and \\neff\\nectuates the postevental trutll in the world. \\nThis, from my point of \\nview, is a thesis endowed with a general rel­\\nevance. The trajectory of \\na truth, which institutes its subject as detached \\nfrom the statist laws of the situation, is nonetheless consistent according \\nto another law: the one that, addressing the truth to everyone, universal­\\nizes the subject. \\nTheorem 5. A subject turns the universal address of \\nthe truth whose \\nprocedure he maintains into a nonliteral law. \\nTo this universal address that faith, or pure subjectivation, does not con­\\nstitute on its own Paul gives the name \\\"love,\\\" aga\\npe\\n-translated for a \\nlong time as \\\"charity,\\\" a term that no longer means much to us. \\nIts principle is this: when the subject as thought accords with the \\ngrace of the event-this is subjectivation (faith, conviction)-he, who \\nwas dead, returns to the place of lif\\ne. He regains those attributes of \\npower that had fallen onto the side of the law and whose subjective fig-\\n\\n\\n88 \\nLove as Universal Power \\nure was sin. He rediscovers the living unity of thinking and doing. This \\nrecovery turns life itself into a universal law. Law returns as life's articu­\\nlation for everyone, path of faith, law beyond law. This is what Paul calls \\nlove. \\nWe already know that faith cannot be confused with mere private \\nconviction, which, as we have seen, when left to itself, coordinates the \\nfourth discourse, that of \\nunutterable utterances, the enclosure of \\nthe mys­\\ntical subject, rather than Christian discourse. Genuine subjectivation has \\nas its material evidence the public declaration of the event by its name, \\nwhich is \\\"resurrection.\\\" It is of the essence of faith to publicly declare it­\\nself Truth is either militant or is not. Citing Deuteronomy, Paul reminds \\nus that \\\"The word is near you, on your lips, and in your heart\\\" (Rom. \\n10.8). And certainly, private conviction, that of the heart, is required, but \\nonly the public confession of faith installs the subject in the perspective \\nof salvation. It is not the heart that saves, but the lips: \\nIe is the word of faith we preach. If \\nyou conf\\ness with your lips that \\nJesus is Lord \\nand believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. \\nFor man believes with his heart and so is justified, and he confesses with his lips \\nand so is saved (Rom. 10.9-10). \\nThe real of faith is an effective declaration, which, with the word \\n\\\"resurrection,\\\" utters that life and death are not ineluctably distributed as \\nthey are in the \\\"old man.\\\" Faith publicly acknowledges that the subjective \\napparatus commanded by the law is not the only possible one. But it be­\\ncomes apparent that faith, confessing the resurrection of one man, merely \\ndeclares a possibility for everyone. That a new assemblage of life and death \\nis possible is borne out by resurrection, and this is what must first be de­\\nclared. But this conviction leaves the universalization of the \\\"new man\\\" \\nin suspense and says nothing as to the content of the reconciliation be­\\ntween living thought and action. Faith says: We can \\nescape powerlessness \\nand rediscover that from which the law separated us. Faith prescribes a \\nnew possibility, one that, although real in Christ, is not, as yet, in effect \\nfor everyone. \\nIt us incumbent upon love to become law so that truth's posteven­\\ntal universality can continuously inscribe itself in the world, rallying sub­\\njects to the path of life. Faith is the declared thought of \\na possible power \\n=\\n\\n\\n=-\\nLove as Universal Power \\n89 \\nof thought. It is not yet this power as such. As Paul forcefully puts it, pis­\\ntis di' agapes ener\\ngoumene, \\\"faith works only through love\\\" (Gal. 5.6). \\nIt is from this point of \\nview that, for the Christian subject, love un­\\nderwrites the return of a law that, although nonliteral, nonetheless func­\\ntions as principle and consistency for the subjective energy initiated by \\nthe declaration of faith. For the new man, love is fulfillment of the break \\nthat he accomplishes with the law; it is law of \\nthe break with law, law of \\nthe truth of \\nlaw. Conceived in this way, the law of \\nlove can even be sup­\\nported by recollecting the content of the old law (Paul never misses an \\nopportunity for an extension of political alliances), a content that, \\nthrough love, is reduced to a single maxim that must not be carved Onto \\nstone, on pain of \\nrelapsing into death, because it is entirely subordinated \\nto the subjectivation by faith: \\nOwe no one anything, except to love one another; for he who loves his neighbor \\nhas fulfilled the law. The commandments, \\\"You shall not commit adultery, You \\nshall not kill, You shall not steal, You shall not covet,\\\" and any other command­\\nment, are summed up in this sentence, \\\"You shall love your neighbor as your­\\nself\\\" Love does no wrong to a neighbor; therefore love is the fulfilling of \\nthe law. \\n(Rom. 13.8-10) \\nThis passage expresses Paul's twofold attempt: \\n• To reduce the multiplicity of legal prescriptions, because it is to \\nthis multiplicity of commandment that desire's moribund auton­\\nomy relates in the form of \\nobjects. A single, affirmative, and nonob­\\njectal maxim is required. One that will not arouse the infinity of \\nde­\\nsire through the transgression of \\nthe prohibition. \\n• To make the maxim such that it will require faith in order to be \\nunderstood. \\nThe \\\"love your neighbor as yourself\\\" satisfies both conditions \\n(and, in addition, its injunction can be found in the Old Testament, \\nwhich is all to the good). This single imperative envelops no prohibition; \\nit is pure affirmation. And it requires faith, because prior to the Resurrec­\\ntion, the sub\\nject, having been given up to death, has no good reason to love \\nhimself \\nPaul is in no way a theoretician of oblatory love, through which \\n\\n\\n90 \\nLove as Universal Power \\none would forget oneself in devotion to the Other. This false love, which \\nclaims that the subject annihilates himself in a direct relation to the tran­\\nscendence of the Other, is nothing more than narcissistic pretension. It \\nfalls under the fourth discourse, that of the private, unspeakable word. \\nPaul knows full well that genuine love exists only to the extent that one \\nfirst be capable of loving oneself. But this relation of love the subject \\nbears to himself is never anything but love of \\nthat living truth that insti­\\ntutes the subject who declares it. Thus, love is under the authority of the \\nevent and its subjectivation in faith, since only the event allows the sub­\\nject to be something other than a dead Self, which it is impossible to \\nlove. \\nThus, the new faith consists in deploying the power of self-love in \\nthe direction of others, addressing it to everyone, in a way made possible \\nby subjectivation (conviction). Love is precisely what \\nfaith is capable o\\nf\\n \\nI call this universal power of subjectivation an evental fidelity, and \\nit is correct to say that fidelity is the law of \\na truth. In Paul's thought, love \\nis precisely fidelity to the Christ-event, in accordance with a power that \\naddresses the love of self universally. Love is what malces of thought a \\npower, which is why love alone, and not faith, bears the \\nforce of salvation. \\nWhat we have here is: \\nTheorem 6 What grants power to a truth, and determines subjec­\\ntive fidelity, is the universal address of the relation to self instituted \\nby the event, and not this relation itself. \\nThis could be called the theorem of the militant. No truth is ever solitary, \\nor particular. \\nTo understand the Pauline version of the theorem of the militant, it \\nis useful to proceed on the basis of fWO apparently contradictory state­\\nments. \\nPaul seems to assign salvation exclusively to faith. This is even what \\nhis thought is often reduced to. For instance (but the theme recurs \\nthroughout the epistles): \\nYet knowing that a man is not \\njustified by \\nworks of \\nthe law but through faith in \\nJesus Christ, even we have believed in Christ Jesus, in order to be justified by \\nfaith in Christ, and not \\nby \\nworks of \\nthe law, because by works of \\nthe law shall no \\none be justified. (Gal. 2.16) \\n....\\n \\n\\n\\n....\\n \\nLove as Universal Power \\n91 \\nBut Paul, with equal energy, assigns salvation to love alone, even going so \\nfar as to maintain that faith without love is no more than hollow subjec­\\ntivism. Thus: \\nIfI speak in the tongues of \\nmen and angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong \\nor a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mys­\\nteries and ali lmowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but \\nhave not love, I am nothing. IfI give away all I have, and ifI deliver my body to \\nbe burned, but have not love, I gain nothing. (Cor. 1.13.1-3) \\nAnd when it comes to classifying the three major subjective opera­\\ntions proper to the new man-faith, love, and charity, or rather, convic­\\ntion, certainty, and love-it is to love, without hesitation, 'that Paul as­\\nsigns pride of \\nplace: \\\"These three abide, faith, hope, love; but the greatest \\nof \\nthese is love\\\" (Cor. LIp3). \\nOn the one hand, the evental declaration founds the subject; on the \\nother, without love, without fidelity, that declaration is useless. Let us say \\nthat a subjectivation that does not discover the resource of \\npower proper \\nto its universal address misses the truth for whose sudden emergence it \\nseemed to be the sole witness. \\nIn the case of the preeminence of love, which alone effectuates the \\nunity of \\nthought and action in the world, it is necessary to pay careful at­\\ntention to Paul's lexicon, which is always extremely precise. When it is a \\nquestion of subjectivation through faith, Paul speaks not of salvation \\n(soteria), but of \\njustification (dikaioma). It is true that a man is \\\"justified \\nby faith\\\" (Rom. 3.28), but it is no less true that he is saved only by love. \\nWe should recall in passing that if \\\"justification\\\" retains, at its root, the \\nlegal motif of \\njustice, salvation means, quite simply, \\\"liberation.\\\" Thus, \\nsubjectivation creates, according to the possibility indicated by the resur­\\nrection of \\na single man, the just space of a liberation; but only love, which \\nimplies the universality of \\naddress, effectuates this liberation. Love alone \\nis the life of truth, the pleasure of truth. As Paul says: \\\"Love . . .  \\nrejoices \\nin the truth [he agape . . .  \\nsunkairei tei aletheiai]\\\" (Cor. 1.13.6). \\nPaul has the intuition that every subject is the articulation of \\na sub­\\njectivation and a consistency. This also means there is no instantaneous \\nsalvation; grace itself is no more than the indication of a possibility. The \\nsubject has to be given in his labor, and not only in his sudden emer-\\n\\n\\n92 \\nLove as U\\nniversal Power \\ngence. \\\"Love\\\" is the name of that labor. Truth for Paul is never anything \\nbut \\\"faith working through love\\\" (Gal. 5·6) .  \\nThis is the same as saying that the impetus of a truth, what makes \\nit exist in the world, is identical to its universality, whose subjective form, \\nunder the Pauline name of love, consists in its tirelessly addressing itself \\nto all the others, Greeks and Jews, men and women, free men and slaves. \\nWhence the consequence that \\\"we have no power against the truth [ou \\ndunametha kata tes aletheias], but only for the truth [huper tes aletheias]\\\" \\n(Cor. II.13.8). \\nTheorem 7. The subjective process of a truth is one and the same \\nthing as the love of that truth. And the militant real of that love is \\nthe universal address of \\nwhat constitutes it. The materiality of uni­\\nversalism is the militant dimension of every truth. \\n\\n\\n9 \\nHope \\nPaul claims that \\\"These three abide, faith [pistis], hope [elpis] , love \\n[agape, charity]\\\" (Cor. I.13-13). We have clarified the subjective correla­\\ntion between faith and love. What about hope? \\nWith Paul and his successors, hope is described as pertaining to jus­\\ntice. Faith allows one to have hope in justice. Thus, in Romans 10.10: \\n\\\"For man believes with his heart and so obtains justice.\\\" \\nBut what kind of \\njustice are we talking about? Does Paul mean that \\nthe hope in justice is the hope in a judgment, the Last Judgment? That \\nwould be hope in an event to come, one that would separate the con­\\ndemned from the saved. Justice would be done, and it is in this final tri­\\nbunal of truth that hope would put its trust. \\nAgainst this classic judicial eschatology, Paul seems instead to char­\\nacterize hope as a simple imperative of \\ncontinuation, a principle of tenac­\\nity, of \\nobstinacy. In Thessalonians I, faith is compared to striving (ergon), \\nand love to grueling work, to the laborious, the troublesome. Hope, for \\nits part, pertains to endurance, to perseverance, to patience; it is the sub­\\njectivity proper to the continuation of the subjective ptocess. \\nFaith would be the opening to the true; love, the universalizing ef­\\nfectiveness of its trajectory; hope, lastly, a maxim enjoining us to perse­\\nvere in this trajectory. \\nHow is the idea of \\njudgment, of \\nj ustice, finally rendered, connected \\n\\n\\n94 \\nHope \\nto that of perseverance, to that of the imperative \\\"You must go on\\\"? If \\nperseverance is privileged, one obtains a subjective figure that is entirely \\ndisinterested, except for its being a coworker for a truth. Both tendencies \\nhave a long history whose political resonances are still being felt. The \\nquestion is always one of knowing to what one ascribes the militant en­\\nergy of an anonymous subject. \\nIf final retribution is privileged, the subject is aligned once more \\nwith the object. Alternatively, if \\nhope is the principle of perseverance, one \\nremains within the realm of the purely subjective. Christianity has ad­\\nvanced under cover of this tension, almost invariably privileging retribu­\\ntion, which is more popular in the eyes of the Church, just as ordinary \\nsyndicalism points to people's protests the better to be wary of \\ntheir \\\"un­\\nrealistic\\\" political enthusiasms. \\nThe problem is that of knowing what relation hope has to power. \\nDoes it reinforce power from outside, according to what one hopes for? Is \\nthere an event to come that will reward us for our painstaking declara­\\ntion of the event that constitutes us? Hope then becomes an even \\ntal con­\\nnection; it deploys the subject in the interval between two events, and \\nthe subject relies on his hope in the second in order to sustain his faith in \\nthe first. \\nThe classic objectivating doctrine says that the final Judgment will \\nlegitimate believers by punishing unbelievers. Justice then becomes a di­\\nviding up, as seen in those great paintings by \\nTintoretto or Michelangelo, \\nvisually luxuriating in the contrast between the luminous ascension of \\nthe \\nrewarded militants and the dark f\\nall of the stricken evildoers. \\nHell has always enjoyed greater artistic and public success than \\nheaven, because what the subject requires, according to this version of \\nhope, is the idea that the evildoer will be punished. The legitimation of \\nfaith and love through hope is then entirely negative. Hope is traversed \\nby the hatred of others, by resentment. But thus conceived, hope seems \\nsomewhat incompatible with that reconciliation of \\nthought and power in \\nthe universal that Paul names love. \\nIn fact, one does not find the judicial, objective conception of hope \\nin Paul. Certainly, because he is a violent, grudge-bearing man (for how \\ncould the path of \\ndeath not persist in dividing the subject?), there are oc­\\ncasions in which he lets it be understood that the evildoers-which is to \\n\\n\\nHope \\n95 \\nsay, primarily his political opponents in the construction of Christian \\ncells-will not be particularly well treated. Similarly, like any Jew living \\nin the early days of \\nthe empire, he occasionally allows himself to imagine \\nthat our days are numbered, that the end of the world will soon be upon \\nus: \\\"Besides this you know \\nwhat hour it is, how it is full time now for you \\nto wake from sleep. For salvation is nearer to us now than when we first \\nbelieved; the night is far gone, the day is at hand. Let us then cast off the \\nworks of darkness and put on the armor of light\\\" (Rom. 13.n). But there \\nare very few concessions to this aggressive, apocalyptic atmosphere in \\nPaul. Still less does he tether hope to the satisfaction that feeds on the \\npunishment of the wicked. \\nFor universalism is Paul's passion, and it is not by chance that he \\nwas named the \\\"apostle of \\nthe nations.\\\" His clearest conviction is that the \\nevental figure of the Resurrection exceeds its real, contingent site, which \\nis the community of believers such as it exists at the moment. The work \\nof \\nlove is still before us; the empire is vast. This man, or this people, who \\nare to all appearances impious and ignorant, must primarily be seen as \\nthose to whom the militant must bring the Good News. Paul's universal­\\nism will not allow the content of hope to be a privilege accorded to the \\nfaithful who happen to be living now. It is inappropriate to make distrib­\\nutive justice the referent for hope. \\nUltimately, in Paul's eyes, hope is not hope in an objective victory. \\nOn the contrary, it is subjective victory that produces hope. We must try \\nto understand this difficult text, whose implications are far-reaching for \\nwhoever is the militant of a truth: \\\"And we rejoice in our hope of sharing \\nthe glory of God. More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing \\nthat suffering produces patience, and patience produces enduring fidelity, \\nand enduring fidelity produces hope, and hope does not disappoint\\\" \\n(Rom. 502). \\nThe subjective dimension named \\\"hope\\\" is the ordeal that has been \\novercome, not that in the name of which it has been overcome. Hope is \\n\\\"enduring fidelity,\\\" tenacity oflove through the ordeal, and in no way vi­\\nsion of \\na reward or punishment. Hope is the subjectivity of \\na victorious fi­\\ndelity, fidelity to fidelity, and not the representation of \\nits future outcome. \\nHope indicates the real of fidelity in the ordeal of its exercise, here \\nand now. This is how the enigmatic expression \\\"hope does not disap-\\n\\n\\nHope \\npoint\\\" should be understood. We will compare it to the statement by La­\\ncan, for whom \\\"anxiety is what does not disappoint,\\\" precisely on ac­\\ncount of its being charged with the real, of the excess of the real from \\nwhich it results. One could say that hope is not the imaginary of \\nan ideal \\njustice dispensed at last, but what accompanies the patience of truth, or \\nthe practical universality of \\nlove, through the ordeal of \\nthe real. \\nIf Paul-quite apart from his general opposition to the idea that \\nfaith has a \\\"wage\\\" \\n-cannot subordinate hope to the imaginary of a retri­\\nbution, it is because resurrection has no meaning independently of the \\nuniversal character of its operation. As soon as it is a question of contin­\\ngency and grace, all fixing of divisions or distributions is f\\norbidden: \\\"A \\nsingle act of righteousness leads to acquittal and life f\\nor all men\\\" (Rom. \\np8). The \\\"all men\\\" returns without exception: \\\"For as in Adam all die, \\nso also in Christ shall all be made alive\\\" (Cor. 1.15.22). There is no place \\nhere for vengeance and resentment. Hell, the roasting spit of enemies, \\nholds no interest for Paul. \\nNonetheless, one \\nenemy is identifiable, and its name is death. But it \\nis a generic name, one that is applicable to a path of thought. Of \\nthis en­\\nemy, Paul, on rare occasions, speaks in the future tense: \\\"The last enemy \\nwho will be destroyed is death\\\" (Cor. 1.15.26). The justice that is in ques­\\ntion in hope can doubtless be described as the death of death. But it is a \\nquestion of undertaking the def\\neat of the subjective figure of death as of \\nnow. Justice is copresent with love's universal address and does not lead to \\nany judicial separation between the saved and the condemned. Hope, as \\nconfidence in the fidelity of the militant, affirms instead that every vic­\\ntory is in reality a victory f\\nor everyone. Hope is the subjective modality \\nof \\na victory of the universal: \\\"And so all Israel will be saved\\\" (Rom. 11.26). \\nJust as love is the general power of \\nself\\n-love turned toward everyone \\nas the construction of living thought, similarly, hope weaves the subjec­\\ntivity of salvation, of the unity of thought and power, as a universality \\nthat is present in each ordeal, in each victory. Each victory won, however \\nlocalized, is universal. \\nFor Paul, it is of utmost importance to declare that I am justified \\nonly insofar as everyone is. Of \\ncourse, hope concerns me. But this means \\nthat I identifY myself in my singularity as subject of the economy of sal­\\nvation only insofar as this economy is universal. \\n\\n\\nHope \\n97 \\nHope indicates that I can persevere in love only because love inau­\\ngurates the concrete universality of the true, and this universality sub­\\nsumes me, affects me in return. This is the strong sense of the statement \\n\\\"If I . . .  \\nhave not love, I am nothing\\\" (Cor. 1.13.2). For Paul, universality \\nmediates identity. It is the \\\"f\\nor all\\\" that allows me to be counted as one. \\nWherein we rediscover a major Pauline principle: the One is inaccessible \\nwithout the \\\"for all.\\\" What designates and verifies my participation in \\nsalvation-from the moment I become a patient worker for the univer­\\nsality of the true-is called hope. From this point of \\nview, hope has noth­\\ning to do with the future. It is a figure of the present subject, who is af\\n­\\nfected in return by the universality for which he works. \\nT\\nheorem 8. Where the imperative of his own continuation is con­\\ncerned, the subject supports himself through the fact that the tak­\\ning-place of the truth constituting him is universal and thereby ef­\\nfectively concerns him. There is singularity only insofar as there is \\nuniversality. Failing that, there is, outside of truth, only particu­\\nlarity. \\n\\n\\n-\\n1 0  \\nUniversality and the Traversal \\nof Dif\\nferences \\nThat hope is the pure patience of the subject, the inclusion of self \\nin the universality of the address, in no way implies that differences \\nshould be ignored or dismissed. For although it is true, so far as what \\nthe event constitutes is concerned, that there is \\\"neither Greek nor Jew,\\\" \\nthe \\nfoet is that there are Greeks and Jews. That every truth procedure \\ncollapses differences, infinitely deploying a purely generic multiplicity, \\ndoes not permit us to lose sight of the fact that, in the situation (call it: \\nthe world), there are diffe\\nrences. One can even maintain that there is \\nnothing else. \\nThe ontology underlying Paul's preaching valorizes nonbeings \\nagainst beings, or rather, it establishes that, for the subject of a truth, \\nwhat exists is generally held by established discourses to be nonexistent, \\nwhile the beings validated by these discourses are, for the subject, nonex­\\nistent. Nevertheless, these fictitious beings, these opinions, customs, dif­\\nferences, are that to which universality is addressed; that toward which \\nlove is clirected; finally, that which must be traversed in order for univer­\\nsality itself to be constructed, or for the genericity (genericite) of the true \\nto be immanently deployed. Any other attitude would return truth, not to \\nthe work of love (which is unity of thought and power), but to the en­\\nclosure of that mystical fourth discourse of illumination, which Paul, \\nwho intends to ensure the transmission of the Good News throughout \\n\\n\\nUniversality and the Traversal o\\nf\\n Diffe\\nrences \\n99 \\nthe entire extent of \\nthe empire, does not want to see monopolizing and \\nsterilizing the event. \\nThis is the reason \\nwhy Paul, apostle of \\nthe nations, not only refuses \\nto stigmatize differences and customs, but also undertakes to accommo­\\ndate them so that the process of their subjective disqualification might \\npass through them, within them. It is in fact the search for new differ­\\nences, new particularities to which the universal might be ex\\nposed, that \\nleads Paul beyond the evental site properly speaking (the Jewish site) and \\nencourages him to displace the experience historically, geographically, on­\\ntologically. Whence a highly characteristic militant tonality, combining \\nthe appropriation of \\nparticularities with the immutability of principles, \\nthe empirical existence of differences with their essential nonexistence, \\naccording to a succession of problems requiring resolution, rather than \\nthrough an amorphous synthesis. The text is charged with a remarkable \\nintensity: \\nFor though I am free from all men, I have made myself \\na slave to all, that I might \\nwin the more. To the Jews I became as a Jew, in order to win the Jews; to those \\nunder the law, I became as one under the law--though not being myself under \\nthe law--that I might win those under the law. To those outside the law I be­\\ncame as one outside the law--not being without law toward God but under the \\nlaw of Christ--that I might win those outside the law. To the weak I became \\nweal(, that I might win the wealc I have become all things to all men. (Cor. \\n1.9.19-22) \\nThis is not an opportunist text, but an instance of what Chinese \\ncommunists will call \\\"the mass line,\\\" pushed to its ultimate expression in \\n\\\"serving the people.\\\" It consists in supposing that, whatever people's \\nopinions and customs, once gripped by a truth's postevental work, their \\nthought becomes capable of \\ntraversing and transcending those opinions \\nand customs without having to give up the diff\\nerences that allow them to \\nrecognize themselves in the world. \\nBut in order for people to become gripped by truth, it is impera­\\ntive that universality not present itself under the aspect of a particularity. \\nDifferences can be transcended only if benevolence with regard to cus­\\ntoms and opinions presents itself as an indiffe\\nrence that tolerates diffe\\nr­\\nences, one whose sole material test lies, as Paul says, in being able and \\nknowing how to practice them oneself. Whence Paul's extreme wariness \\n\\n\\n100 \\nUniversality and the Traversal of Differences \\nwith regard to every rule, every rite, that would assume the form of uni­\\nversalist militantism by making of it a bearer of \\ndifferences and particu­\\nlarities in turn. \\nOf \\ncourse, the faithful belonging to small Christian cells incessantly \\nask Paul what they should think about women's dress, sexual relations, \\npermissible or prohibited foods, the calendar, astrology, and so forth. For \\nit is in the nature of the human animal, as defined by networks of \\ndiffer­\\nences, to love asking questions of this type and even to think that they \\nalone are really important. Confronted with this barrage of problems far \\nremoved from what, for him, identifies the Christian subject, Paul dis­\\nplays an inflexible impatience: \\\"If anyone is disposed to be contentious, \\nwe do not recognize that practice\\\" (Cor. I.n.I6). It is in fact of utmost \\nimportance for the destiny of universalist labor that the latter be with­\\ndrawn from conflicts of opinion and confrontations between customary \\ndifferences. The fundamental maxim is me eis diakriseis dialogismon, \\\"do \\nnot argue about opinions\\\" (Rom. I4.I). \\nThis injunction is all the more striking in that diakrisis means \\nprimarily \\\"discernment of differences.\\\" Thus, it is to the imperative not \\nto compromise the truth procedure by entangling it in the web of opin­\\nions and differences that Paul is committed. It is certainly possible for a \\nphilosophy to argue about opinions; for Socrates, this is even what de­\\nfines it. But the Christian subject is not a philosopher, and f\\naith is nei­\\nther an opinion, nor a critique of opinion. Christian militantism must \\ntraverse worldly differences indifferently and avoid all casuistry over cus­\\ntoms. \\nEvidently impatient to return to the topic of resurrection, but also \\nconcerned lest he alienate his comrades, Paul tal<es great pains to explain \\nthat what one eats, the behavior of \\na servant, astrological hypotheses, and \\nfinally the fact of being Jewish, Greek, or anything else-all this can and \\nmust be envisaged as simultaneously extrinsic to the trajectory of \\na truth \\nand compatible with it: \\nOne believes he may eat anything, while the weak man eats only vegetables. Let \\nnot him who eats despise him who abstains, and let not him who abstains pass \\njudgment on him who eats \\n. . . .  \\nOne man esteems one day as better than an­\\nother, while another man esteems all days alike. Let every one be fully convinced \\nin his own mind. (Rom. 14-2-5) \\nJ \\n\\n\\nJ \\nUniversality and the Traversal of Diffe\\nrences \\nlOI \\nPaul goes very far in this direction, so it's very odd to see him ac­\\ncused of sectarian moralism. The opposite is the case, for we constantly \\nobserve him resisting demands in favor of prohibitions, rites, customs, \\nobservances. He does nOot hesitate to say \\\"in truth, all things are clean \\n[panta kathara]\\\" (Rom. I4.20). And above all, he argues against moral \\njudgment, which in his eyes is an evasion before the event's \\\"for all\\\": \\n\\\"You, why do you pass judgment on your brother? Or you, why do you \\ndespise your brother? . . .  \\nThen let us no more pass judgment on one an­\\nother\\\" (Rom. I4.1O-I3). \\nIn the end, the astonishing principle proposed by this \\\"moralist\\\" \\ncan be formulated as: everything is permitted (panta exestin, Cor. 1.10.23). \\nYes, within the order of particularity, everything is permitted. For if dif­\\nferences are the material of the world, it is only so that the singularity \\nproper to the subject of truth-a singularity that is itself included in the \\nbecoming of the universal-can puncture that material. No need to pre­\\nsume to judge or reduce that material so far as this puncturing is con­\\ncerned; indeed, quite the opposite. \\nThat customary or particular differences are what we must let be \\nfrom the moment we bring to bear on them the universal address and the \\nmilitant consequences of \\nfaith (which is to say only \\ninconsistency with re­\\nspect to faith, or \\\"whatever does not proceed from faith\\\" [Rom. I4.23] , \\ncounts as sin) can be better evaluated by considering two examples, with \\nregard to which the accusation of sectarian moralism, or worse, has often \\nbeen made against Paul: women and Jews. \\nIt has often been claimed that Pauline teaching inaugurated the era \\nof the Christian origins of anti-Semitism. But unless one considers that \\nbrealcing with religious orthodoxy by maintaining a singular heresy from \\nwithin is a form of racism-which, all things considered, is an insuffer­\\nable retrospective excess-it has to be said that there is nothing remotely \\nresembling any form of \\nanti-Semitic statement in Paul's writings. \\nThe accusation of \\n\\\"deicide, \\n\\\" which, it is true, burdens the Jews with \\na crushing mythological guilt, is entirely absent from Paul's discourse, for \\nreasons at once anecdotal and essential. Anecdotal because, in any case­\\nwe have already explained why-the historical and statist process ofJesus' \\nputting to death, and thus the allocation of \\nresponsibilities in the matter, \\nare of absolutely no interest to Paul, for whom only the Resurrection \\n\\n\\n102 \\nUniversality and the T\\nr\\naversal o\\nf\\n Differences \\nmatters. Essential because, amply predating as it does Trinitarian theol­\\nogy, Paul's thought does not base itself in any way on the theme of a sub­\\nstantial identity of Christ and God, and there is nothing in Paul corre­\\nsponding to the sacrificial motif of \\nthe crucified God. \\nIt is rather in the Gospels, and above all in the last one, John's, that \\nJewish particularity is set apart, and the separation between Christians \\nand Jews insisted upon. After the Jews' long war against Roman occupa­\\ntion, this probably helped elicit the goodwill of the imperial authorities, \\nbut it already serves to draw the Christian proposition away from its uni­\\nversal destination, paving the way for the differentiating regime of excep­\\ntions and exclusions. \\nWe find nothing of the sort in Paul. His relation to Jewish particu­\\nlarity is essentially positive. Conscious of \\nthe extent to which the even \\ntal \\nsite remains, genealogically and ontologically, within the heritage of bib­\\nlical monotheism, he even goes so far, when designating the universality \\nof the address, as to accord Jews a kind of priority. For instance, \\\"Glory \\nand honor and peace for every one who does good, the Jew first and also \\nthe Greek\\\" (Rom. 2.10). \\n\\\"For the Jew first [Ioudaioi proton] \\\": this is precisely what maries the \\nJewish difference's pride of place in the movement traversing all differ­\\nences so that the universal can be constructed. This is why Paul not only \\nconsiders the necessity of making oneself \\\"a Jew among Jews\\\" obvious, \\nbut also vigorously invokes his Jewishness so as to establish that the Jews \\nare included in the universality of the Announcement: \\\"I ask then, has \\nGod rejected his people? By no means! I myself am an Israelite, a descen­\\ndant of Abraham, a member of the tribe of Benjamin. God has not re­\\njected his people, whom he foreknew\\\" (Rom. II.I) . \\nOf course, Paul fights against all those who would submit posteven­\\ntal universality to Jewish particularity. He fervently hopes to be \\\"delivered \\nfrom the unbelievers in Judea\\\" (Rom. 15031) .  It is the least that could be \\nexpected from him who identifies his faith only in being affected by the \\ncollapse of \\ncustomary and communitarian differences. But in no way is it \\na question of \\njudging the Jews as such, all the less so because, ultimately, \\nPaul's conviction, unlike John's, is that \\\"all Israel will be saved\\\" (Rom. \\n11.26). \\nThe truth is that Paul mobilizes the new discourse in a constant, \\n\\n\\nUniversality and the Traversal o\\nf\\n Differences \\n103 \\nsubtle strategy of displacement relative to Jewish discourse. We have al­\\nready remarked that references to the Old Testament are as abundant in \\nPaul's texts as those to the sayings of Christ are absent. The task Paul sets \\nfor himself is obviously not that of abolishing Jewish particularity, which \\nhe constantly acknowledges as the event's principle of \\nhistoricity, but that \\nof animating it internally by everything of which it is capable relative to \\nthe new discourse, and hence the new subject. For Paul, being Jewish in \\ngeneral, and the Book in particular, can and must be resub\\njectivated. \\nThis operation finds a basis in the opposition between the figure of \\nMoses and that of Abraham. Paul does not much like Moses, man of the \\nletter and the law. By contrast, he readily identifies with Abraham for two \\nvery powerful reasons, both contained in a passage from the epistle to the \\nGalatians (3.6): \\\"Thus Abraham 'believed God and it was reckoned to \\nhim as righteousness.' So you see that it is men of faith who are the sons \\nof Abraham. And the scripture, foreseeing that God would justifY the \\nGentiles by faith, preached the gospel beforehand to Abraham, saying, \\n'In you shall all the nations be blessed.' So then, those who are men of \\nfaith are blessed with Abraham, who had faith.\\\" \\nOne sees here that Abraham is decisive for Paul. First because he \\nwas elected by \\nGod solely by \\nvirtue of \\nhis faith, before the law (which was \\nengraved for Moses, Paul notes, \\\"four hundred and thirty years later\\\"); \\nsecond because the promise that accompanies his election pertains to \\\"all \\nthe nations,\\\" rather than to Jewish descendants alone. Abraham thereby \\nanticipates what could be called a universalism of \\nthe Jewish site; in other \\nwords, he anticipates Paul. A Jew among Jews, and proud of it, Paul only \\nwishes to remind us that it is absurd to believe oneself a proprietor of \\nGod, and that an event wherein what is at issue is life's triumph over \\ndeath, regardless of the communitarian forms assumed by one or the \\nother, activates the \\\"for all\\\" through which the One of \\ngenuine monothe­\\nism sustains itself. This is a reminder in which, once again, the Book \\nplays a part in subjectivation: \\\"He has called us not from the Jews only \\nbut also from the Gentiles. As indeed he says in Hosea, 'Those who were \\nnot my people I will call my people, and her who was not beloved I will \\ncall my beloved'\\\" (Rom. 9.24) . \\nWhere women are concerned, it is equally false, albeit frequently \\nmaintained, that Paul is the founder of a Christian misogyny. We shall \\n\\n\\n104 \\nUniversaLity and the TraversaL of Differences \\ncertainly not claim that Paul, who does not want interminable quibbling \\nover customs and opinions (this would involve compromising the tran­\\nscendence of the universal through communitarian divisions), makes \\npronouncements about women that would seem appropriate to us today. \\nBut all things considered, there is something absurd about bringing him \\nto trial before the tribunal of \\ncontemporary feminism. The only question \\nworth asking is whether Paul, given the conditions of his time, is a pro­\\ngressive or a reactionary so far as the status of women is concerned. \\nOne decisive factor in any case is that, in light of the fundamental \\nstatement that maintains that, in the element of faith, \\\"there is neither \\nmale nor female,\\\" Paul clearly intends that women participate in gather­\\nings of the faithful and be able to declare the event. AB a visionary mili­\\ntant, Paul understood the resource in energy and expansion that such \\negalitarian participation would be able to mobilize. He had no wish to \\ndeprive himself of the presence at his side of \\\"beloved Persis, who has \\nworked hard for the Lord\\\" (Rom. r6.12), or Julia, or Nereus's sister. \\nThis suggests that the problem for Paul consists in reconciling-ac­\\ncording to the circumstances-this requirement with the obvious and \\nmassive inequality affecting women in the ancient world, without the de­\\nbate over this point hindering the movement of universalization. \\nPaul's technique then becomes one of \\nwhat could be called subse­\\nquent symmetrization. Initially, he will concede what no one at the time is \\nwilling to call into question-for instance, the husband's authority over \\nhis wife. Whence the formulation, \\\"The wife does not rule over her own \\nbody, but the husband does\\\" (Cor. 1.7.4). Horror! Yes, but in order for a \\nreminder that what matters is a truth's universal becoming to be implic­\\nitly slipped into this inegalitarian maxim, it will, so to speak, be neutral­\\nized through the subsequent mention of \\nits reversibility. For the text con­\\ntinues, and this continuation should really always be cited aLso: ''And \\nlikewise the husband does not rule over his own body, but the wife does\\\" \\n(Cor. 1.7.4). \\nUltimately, Paul's undertaking, which, in the final analysis, it is \\nright to consider as a progressive innovation, consists in making univer­\\nsaLizing egaLitarianism pass through the reversibility of an inegaLitarian ruLe. \\nThis at once allows him to avoid irresolvable arguments over the rule \\n(which he assumes at the outset) and to arrange the global situation so \\n\\n\\nUniversaLity and \\nthe TraversaL of Diffi\\nrences \\nr05 \\nthat universality is able to affect particularizing differences in return: in \\nthis instance, the difference between the sexes. \\nWhence a technique of balancing, which, as soon as women are \\nconcerned, marks all of \\nPaul's interventions without exception. Talce mar­\\nriage, for example. Obviously, Paul begins with the inegalitarian rule \\\"I \\ngive charge . . .  \\nthat the wife should not separate from her husband\\\" \\n(Cor. 1.7.10). But he immediately adds \\\"and that the husband should not \\ndivorce his wife\\\" (Cor. h.1O). \\nLet us consider a question that, in what is known as its Islamic vari­\\nant, enjoys a certain topicality: Should women cover their hair when in \\npublic? This is obviously what everyone thinks in the eastern world in \\nwhich the apostle is trying to start militant groups. For Paul, what is im­\\nportant is that a woman \\\"prays or prophesies\\\" (that a woman be able to \\n\\\"prophesy,\\\" which for Paul means publicly declare her faith, is something \\nquite considerable). Thus, he admits that \\\"any woman who prays or \\nprophesies with her head unveiled dishonors her chief\\\" (Cor. I.r1.5). The \\nargument is that women's long hair indicates something like the natural \\ncharacter of \\nveiling, and that it is appropriate to emphasize this natural \\nveil with an artificial sign that ultimately pays witness to an acceptance of \\nthe difference between the sexes. As Paul says, for a woman, true shame \\nconsists in being shorn, and this is the one and only reason why, being \\nsummoned to declaration, she must veil herself in order to show that the \\nuniversality of this declaration includes women who con\\nfirm that the\\ny are \\nwomen. It is the power of the universal over difference as difference that \\nis at issue here. \\nIt will be objected that this constraint applies solely to women, and \\nhence that it is flagrantly unequal. But such is not the case, on account of \\nthe subsequent symmetrization. For Paul is careful to specify that \\\"any \\nman who prays or prophesies with his head covered dishonors his chief\\\" \\n(Cor. I.r1.4), and that it is as shameful for a man to have long hair as it is \\nfor a woman to have short hair. The necessity of \\ntraversing and testifying \\nto the difference between the sexes in order \\nfor it \\nto become indifferent in \\nthe universality of \\nthe declaration culminates in symmetrical, rather than \\nunilateral, constraints within the contingent realm of customs. \\nPerhaps echoing a hierarchical vision of \\nthe world that was ubiqui­\\ntous at the time, and whose Roman version was the cult of the emperor, \\n\\n\\nI06 \\nUniversality and the Ti\\\"aversal a\\n/Differences \\nPaul does declare that \\\"the chief of every man is Christ, the chief of a \\nwoman is her husband, and the chief of Christ is God\\\" (Cor. I.11.3) . \\nMoreover, it is precisely the ambiguity of the word ke\\nphale (still audible \\nin the ancient word \\\"chief\\\") that allows him to move from this theo­\\nlogico-cosmic disquisition to an examination of the perilous question of \\nthe women's veil. As expected, the basis is provided by the narrative in \\nGenesis: \\\"For man was not made from woman, but woman from luan\\\" \\n(8). The question seems settled: Paul proposes a solid religious basis for \\nthe subjugation of women. Well actually, not at all. Three lines further \\ndown, a vigorous \\\"nevertheless\\\" (plen) introduces the subsequent sym­\\nmetrization, which, opportunely reminding us that every man is born of \\na woman, leads the whole of \\nthis inegalitarian edifice back to an essential \\nequality: \\\"Nevertheless, in the Lord woman is not independent of man, \\nnor man of woman; for as woman was made from man, so man is now \\nborn of \\nwoman\\\" (Cor. Lu.u). \\nThus, Paul remains faithful to his twofold conviction. With regard \\nto what has happened to us, to what we subjectivate through a public \\ndeclaration (faith), to what we universalize through a fidelity (love), and \\nwith which we identifY our subjective consistency in time (hope), differ­\\nences are indifferent, and the universality of the true collapses them. \\nWith regard to the world in which truth proceeds, universality must ex­\\npose itself to all differences and show, through the ordeal of their divi­\\nsion, that they are capable of welcoming the truth that traverses them. \\nWhat matters, man or woman, Jew or Greek, slave or free man, is that \\ndifferences carr\\ny the universal that happens to them Iilee\\n a grace. Inversely, \\nonly by recognizing in differences their capacity for carrying the univer­\\nsal that comes upon them can the universal itself \\nverifY its own reality: \\\"If \\neven lifeless instruments, such as the flute or the harp, do not give dis­\\ntinct notes, how will anyone know what is being played on the flute or \\nthe harp?\\\" (Cor. 1.14-7). \\nDifferences, like instrumental tones, provide us with the recogniza­\\nble univocity that mal<:es up the melody of the True. \\n\\n\\n1 1  \\nIn Conclusion \\nWe gave this book the subtitle The Foundation a\\n/Universalism. It is, \\nof course, an excessive title. Real universalism is already entirely present \\nin this or that theorem of \\nArchimedes, in certain political practices of the \\nGreeks, in a tragedy of Sophocles, or in the amorous intensity to which \\nthe poems of Sappho bear witness. It is JUSt as present in the Psalms, or, \\ninverted into nihilism, in the lamentations of Ecclesiastes. \\nNevertheless, there occurs with Paul, on this very issue, a powerful \\nbreal<, one that is still illegible in the teaching ofJesus, insof\\nar we have ac­\\ncess to it. Only this break illuminates the immense echo of \\nthe Christian \\nfoundation. \\nThe difficulty for us is that this break has no bearing on the explicit \\ncontent of the doctrine. The Resurrection, after all, is just a mythological \\nassertion. The claim \\\"there is a limitless succession of prime numbers\\\" \\npossesses an indubitable universality. The claim \\\"Christ is resurrected\\\" is \\nas though subtracted from the opposition between the universal and the \\nparticular, because it is a narrative statement that we cannot assume to be \\nhistorical. \\nIn reality, the Pauline break has a bearing upon the formal condi­\\ntions and the inevitable consequences of \\na consciousness-of-truth rooted \\nin a pure event, detached from every objectivist assignation to the partic­\\nular laws of a world or society yet concretely destined to become in-\\n\\n\\n108 \\nIn Conclusion \\nscribed within a world and within a society. What Paul must be given ex­\\nclusive credit for establishing is that the fidelity to such an event exists \\nonly through the termination of communitarian particularisms and the \\ndetermination of \\na subject-of-truth who indistinguishes the One and the \\n\\\"for all.\\\" Thus, unlike effective truth procedures (science, art, politics, \\nlove), the Pauline break does not base itself upon the production of \\na uni­\\nversal. Its bearing, in a mythological context implacably reduced to a sin­\\ngle point, a single statement (Christ is resurrected), pertains rather to the \\nlaws of universality in general. This is why it can be called a theoretical \\nbreak, it being understood that in this instance \\\"theoretical\\\" is not being \\nopposed to \\\"practical,\\\" but to real. Paul is a founder, in that he is one of \\nthe very first theoreticians of \\nthe universal. \\nA second difficulty is then that Paul could be identified as a \\nphilosopher. I have myself maintained that what is proper to philosophy \\nis not the production of \\nuniversal truths, but rather the organization of \\ntheir synthetic reception by forging and reformulating the category of \\nTruth. Auguste Comte defined the philosopher as one who \\\"specialized \\nin generalities.\\\" Is not Paul someone who specializes in the general cate­\\ngories of all universalism? \\nWe will suspend this objection by claiming that Paul is not a \\nphilosopher precisely because he assigns his thought to a singular event, \\nrather than a set of conceptual generalities. That this singular event is of \\nthe order of \\na fable prohibits Paul from being an artist, or a scientist, or a \\nrevolutionary of the State, but also prohibits all access to philosophical \\nsubjectivity, which either subordinates itself to conceptual f\\noundation or \\nauto-foundation, or places itself under the condition of real truth proce­\\ndures. For Paul, the truth event repudiates philosophical Truth, while for \\nus the fictitious dimension of this event repudiates its pretension to real \\ntruth. \\nAccordingly, we must say: Paul \\nis \\nan anti \\nphilosophical theoretician o\\nf\\n \\nuniversality. That the event (or pure act) invoked by antiphilosophers is \\nfictitious does not present a problem. It is equally so in Pascal (it is the \\nsame as Paul's), or in Nietzsche (Nietzsche's \\\"grand politics\\\" did not break \\nthe history of the world in two; it was Nietzsche who was broken). \\nAntiphilosopher of genius, Paul warns the philosopher that the \\nconditions for the universal cannot be conceptual, either in origin, or in \\ndestination. \\n\\n\\nIn Conclusion \\nSo far as the origin is concerned, it is necessary that an event, which \\nis a sort of \\ngrace supernumerary to every particularity, be what one pro­\\nceeds from in order to cast off differences. \\nSo far as the destination is concerned, it can be neither predicative \\nnor judicial. There is no authority before which the result of \\na truth pro­\\ncedure could be brought to trial. A truth never appertains to Critique. It \\nis supported only by itself and is the correlate of a new type of subject, \\nneither transcendental nor substantial, entirely defined as militant of \\nthe \\ntruth in question. \\nThis is why, as Paul testifies in exemplary fashion, universalism, \\nwhich is an absolute (nonrelative) subjective production, indistinguishes \\nsaying and doing, thought and power. Thought becomes universal only \\nby addressing itself \\nto all others, and it effectuates itself as power through \\nthis address. But the moment all, including the solitary militant, are \\ncounted according to the universal, it follows that what takes place is the \\nsubsumption of \\nthe Other by the Same. Paul demonstrates in detail how \\na universal thought, proceeding on the basis of the worldly proliferation \\nof alterities (the Jew, the Greek, women, men, slaves, free men, and so \\non), produces a Sameness and an Equality (there is no longer either Jew, \\nor Greek, and so on). The production of equality and the casting off, in \\nthought, of differences are the material signs of the universal. \\nAgainst universalism conceived of \\nas production of \\nthe Same, it has \\nrecently been claimed that the latter found its emblem, if not its culmi­\\nnation, in the death camps, where everyone, having been reduced to a \\nbody on the verge of death, was absolutely equal to everyone else. This \\n\\\"argument\\\" is fraudulent, for two major reasons. The first is that, in read­\\ning Primo Levi or Shalamov, one sees that, on the contrary, the death \\ncamp produces exorbitant differences at every instant, that it turns the \\nslightest fragment of reality into an absolute difference between life and \\ndeath, and this incessant differentiation of the minute is a torture. The \\nsecond, more directly relevant to Paul, is that one of the necessary condi­\\ntions of \\nthought as power (which, let us remind ourselves, is love) consists \\nin he who is a militant of the truth identifYing himself, as well as every­\\none else, on the basis of the universal. The \\nproduction of the Same is itself \\ninternal to the law o\\nf\\n the Same. But the Nazis' production of extermina­\\ntory abattoirs obeyed the opposite principle: the \\\"meaning\\\" proper to the \\nmass production of}ewish corpses was that of \\ndelimiting the existence of \\n\\n\\nno \\nIn Conclusion \\nthe master race as absolute difference. The address to the other of \\nthe \\\"as \\noneself\\\" (love the other as yourself) was what the Nazis wanted to abol­\\nish. The German Aryan's \\\"as oneself\\\" was precisely what could not be \\nprojected anywhere, a closed substance, continuously driven to verifY its \\nown closure, both in and outside itself, through carnage. \\nPaul's maxim, which is that of the dissolution of the universalizing \\nsubject's identity in the universal, mal(es of \\nthe Same that which must be \\nachieved, even if it includes, when necessary, altering our own alterity. \\nFor the subject, this subjective logic culminates in an indifference \\nto secular nominations, to whatever allocates predicates and hierarchical \\nvalues to particular subsets. Hope outstrips these nominations. The epis­\\ntle to the Philippians (2.9) speaks of Christ as \\\"the name which is above \\nevery name.\\\" It is always to such names, rather than to the closed names \\nproper to particular languages and sealed entities, that the subject of a \\ntruth lays claim. All true names are \\\"above every name.\\\" They let them­\\nselves be inflected and declared, just as mathematical symbolism does, in \\nevery language, according to every custom, and through the traversal of \\nall diff\\nerences. \\nEvery name from which a truth proceeds is a name from before the \\nTower of Babel. But it has to circulate in the tower. \\nPaul, we have insisted, is not a dialectician. The universal is not the \\nnegation of \\nparticularity. It is the measured advance across a distance rel­\\native to perpetually subsisting particularity. Every particularity is a con­\\nformation, a conformism. It is a question of maintaining a nonconfor­\\nmity with regard to that which is always conforming us. Thought is \\nsubjected to the ordeal of conformity, and only the universal, through an \\nuninterrupted labor, an inventive traversal, relieves it. As Paul magnifi­\\ncently puts it, \\\"Do not be conformed to the present century, but be trans­\\nformed by the renewal of \\nyour thought [nous here, and not pneuma, so \\nthat it is better not to translate it as \\\"spirit\\\"]\\\" (Rom. 12.2). \\nFar from fleeing from the century, one must live with it, but with­\\nout letting oneself be shaped, conformed. It is the subject, rather than \\nthe century, who, under the injunction of his faith, must be trans­\\nformed. And the key to this transformation, this \\\"renewal,\\\" lies in \\nthought. \\nPaul says to us: it is always possible for a nonconformist thought to \\n\\n\\nIn Conclusion \\nIII \\nthink in the century. This is what a subject is. It is he who maintains the \\nuniversal, not conformity. \\nOnly what is in immanent exception is universal. \\nBut if everything depends on an event, must we wait? Certainly \\nnot. Many events, even very distant ones, still require us to be faithful to \\nthem. Thought does not wait, and it has never exhausted its reserve of \\npower, unless it be for him who succumbs to the profound desire to con­\\nform, which is the path of \\ndeath. \\nBesides, waiting is pointless, for it is of the essence of the event not \\nto be preceded by any sign, and to catch us unawares with its grace, re­\\ngardless of \\nour vigilance. \\nIn Zarathustra's dialogue with the fire-dog, Nietzsche says that true \\nevents arrive on doves' feet, that they surprise us in the moment of great­\\nest silence. On this point, as on many others, he should have acknowl­\\nedged his debt to that same Paul upon whom he pours out his scorn. First \\nepistle to the Thessalonians (5.2) : \\\"The day of the Lord will come like a \\nthief in the night.\\\" \\n\\n\\nPHILOSOPHY/RELI \\nGrON \\n\\\"This book i s  a daring and provocative confrontation of religion and \\nsecular practice, the aim of which is to recover the radical core of \\nPaul's militant philosophical, or 'antiphilosophical,' project.\\\" \\n- James 1. Porter, University of Michigan \\nIn this bold and provocative work, French philosopher Alain Badiou proposes a \\nstartling reinterpretation of St. Paul. For Badiou, Paul is neither the venerable \\nsaint embalmed by Christian tradition, nor the venomous priest execrated by \\nphilosophers like Nietzsche: he is instead a prof\\noundly original and still revolu­\\ntionary thinker whose invention of Christianity weaves truth and subjectivity \\ntogether in a way that continues to be relevant for us today. \\nIn this work, Badiou argues that Paul delineates a new figure of \\ntlle subject: \\nthe bearer of a universal truth that simultaneously shatters the strictures of \\nJudaic Law and the conventions of the Greek Logos. BadioLl shows that the \\nPauline figure of the subject still harbors a genuinely revolutionary potential \\ntoday: ilie subject is that which refuses to submit to the order of the world as we \\nImow it and struggles f\\nor a new one instead. \\nC U LT U R A L  M E M O RY I N  T H E  P R E S E N T  \\nALain Badiou hoLds the Chair o\\nf\\n Philosoph\\ny at the EcoLe Normale Superieure in Paris. \\nMany o\\nf\\n his books have been pubLished in EngLish, including Manifesto for Philo­\\nsophy, Deleuze: The Clamor of \\nBeing, and \\nEthics: An Essay on the Understanding \\nof Evil. \\nS TA N F O R D  U N I V E R S I T Y  P R E S S  \\nwww.sup.org \\nISBN 0-8°47-4471-8 \\nCover desi\\ngn: Preston Thomas \\n111111111111111111111111 \\n9 780804 74471 3  \\n90000 \\n1111111111111111\",\"difficulty\":\"hard\",\"domain\":\"Multi-Document QA\",\"length\":\"medium\",\"question\":\"On what issue do Wang Hui and Badiou have similar views?\",\"sub_domain\":\"Academic\"}","display_format":"text","language":"","answer_status":"published","assets":[],"source_url":"https://huggingface.co/datasets/zai-org/LongBench-v2","history":"initial import","indexing_mode":"noindex","subproblems":[],"grids":[]}