Magazine: Papers on Language & Literature, Winter, 1993
 Section: ESSAY-REVIEW

                         INTERPRETING FOUCAULT
                         ---------------------

When Michel Foucault was once asked whether he considered himself a
postmodern thinker, he responded by saying that he did not know what the
term "postmodern" meant. Foucault was simply indicating that he was not
interested in the issue of postmodernism; it is therefore ironic that he
should have become, after his death, an exemplary postmodernist. On the
other hand, this is hardly surprising: Foucault clearly helped set the
terms and outline the issues of an emerging movement in the history of
Western thought, a mode of intellection that tends to be identified,
retrospectively, as postmodernism. This contribution and influence can
best be appreciated in the context of the continuing debate on the
significance and validity of Foucault's work. It is a dispute that can
also help clear up some of the confusion arising from conflicting
interpretations of so-called postmodern critical practices. Viewed in
the context of the debate on the legitimacy of Foucault's theories, the
postmodernism associated with poststructuralist critique acquires the
specification of a post-Enlightenment, post-Marxist, and post-liberal
political and philosophical mode of thought.

Simply put, the central issue opposing Foucault's supporters to his
critics is the question of our relationship to our knowledge of society
and the world. While the critics base their objections on a model of a
conscious and purposeful subject whose agency has a direct and
verifiable impact on the order of things, defenders of Foucault are
increasingly interested in elaborating an insight that was central to
Foucault's work: the realization that before we attempt to influence
events or change the world, it behooves us to take into account, to
examine, and to elucidate that which mediates between "us" and our
representation of reality. To do this, we must first be cured of our
illusions about our ability to determine or ratify "truth"; yetwe must
also recognize our undeniable aptitude to produce "truth-effects."
Foucault explains:

   I am fully aware that I have never written anything other than
   fictions. For all that, I would not want to say that they are
   outside truth. It seems possible to me to make fiction work within
   truth, to induce truth-effects within a fictional discourse, and
   in some way to make the discourse of truth arouse, "fabricate"
   something which does not as yet exist, thus "fiction" something.
   One "fictions" history starting from a political reality that
   renders it true, one "fictions" a politics that doesn't as yet
   exist starting from an historical truth. ("Interview" 74-75)

In addition, one needs constantly to confront one's fictional creations
with the historical and discursive regime of truths within and against
which they are elaborated. That is why Foucault emphasized that he had
"always been concerned with linking together as tightly as possible the
historical and theoretical analysis of power relations, institutions,
and knowledge, to the movements, critiques, and experiences that call
them into question in reality" ("Politics" 374). Foucault was generally
opposed to systematic, totalizing approaches to human affairs and
considered it essential to confront thought with the concrete evidence
of our experience of the "order of things." It is this approach that has
given his work the designation of "postmodern" and has placed it in
close affinity with the increasingly numerous and important other
attempts at disclosing strategies of truth-effects in our culture and
society. It is also this postmodern propensity for privileging the
discontinuous and the dissonant that has motivated a considerable
resistance to Foucault's thought.

Some of the more familiar objections raised to Foucault's writings
amount to a refusal to grant what is a fundamental insight proposed by
the philosopher: that the very bases for criticism have changed and that
it is no longer possible, nor useful, to proceed according to standards
of rationality inherited from earlier ages. The anthology of critical
appraisals, Foucault: A Critical Reader, edited by David Couzens Hoy and
published six years ago, still provides the most instructive
illustration of the confrontation Foucault's writings have occasioned
around the ideologies inspired by the Enlightenment. At first, Hoy tells
us, his purpose had been to assemble "careful counter arguments to
Foucault's own theses" and to invite Foucault's response to them. This
plan was revised following the unexpected death of the philosopher and
the book"now includes essays that are useful in rebutting some common
criticisms by showing that his ideas are not what the standard
objections assume them to be" (1). As a result, the misunderstandings
and misrepresentations that have become standard in critical approaches
to Foucault's work find themselves highlighted and rebutted in the same
volume by those critics who find his insights valuable.

The principal result of this confrontation is to demonstrate that it is
the axiological foundation on which detractors elaborate their critiques
that constitutes the force as well as the principal deficiency of their
arguments. The most common and seemingly most effective reproach aimed
at Foucault's enterprise is the claim that his critical position is self-
contradictory, and therefore incoherent. It is alleged that, in spite of
everything he says, Foucault cannot help subscribing to the very values
he critiques since he has no other value system to offer in their place.
That is, so the argument goes, Foucault has to stand somewhere: he is
either with us or against us--and if he is against the system he has to
identify a position outside it as the preferred alternative. Second,
Foucault's notion of power, it is claimed, makes no sense--especially in
light of the stipulation that relations of power can be both intentional
and non-subjective. History, according to Charles Taylor, is made up of
purposeful human action; therefore, any "undesigned systematicity has to
be related to the purposeful action of agents in a way that we can
understand"; this is because, as a rule, "all patterns have to be made
intelligible in relation to conscious action" (in Hoy 87, 88; Taylor's
emphasis). Systematicity is unimaginable without "the purposeful human
action in which it arose and which it has come to shape" (90).

Critics such as Michael Walzer, Charles Taylor, Jurgen Habermas, and
others would like to see Foucault recognize the positive aspects of the
Western tradition and espouse their own faith in a rationality informed
by common sense and democratic ideals. Thus we are told that Foucault's
model "does not make sense without at least the idea of liberation" (in
Hoy 92; Taylor's emphasis), that it offers no real hope of resisting or
overturning domination. Moreover, Foucault's account of the workings of
power is simply too one-sided, too negative thus incoherent because it
fails to recognize everything progressive, positive, and admirable in
the historical evolution of our civilization; it"leaves out everything
in Western history which has been animated by civic humanism or
analogous movements" (Taylor, in Hoy 83). This alleged shortcoming of
Foucault's analyses is deemed particularly glaring in the context of
other systems, other societies that do not enjoy our freedoms and
advantages; thus, for Walzer, Foucault's "account of the carceral
archipelago contains no hint of how or why our own society stops short
of the Gulag. For such an account would require what Foucault always
resists: some positive evaluation of the liberal state" (in Hoy 62). In
a similar vein, Sheldon Wolin has chastised Foucault for not recognizing
how much better off we are today than our ancestors with our "roads,
bridges, schools" and "phenomenal growth of scientific knowledge and its
practical applications" (182-83).

These requirements of coherence and grateful appreciation amount to a
demand that Foucault renounce precisely the part of his project that has
been recognized as having the most innovative and far-reaching critical
potential. In a sense, Foucault's critics would have liked to see
Foucault undo what he had accomplished, for "these ways of reading
Foucault have in common a reassertion of metaphysical patterns and ideas
that are destabilized in Foucault's thought" (Charles E. Scott, The
Question of Ethics: Nietzsche, Foucault, Heidegger 61). Of course, from
Foucault's perspective, any recourse to established values, to notions
of progress and civilized achievement, implies a reliance on a pre-
critical framework that provides the answer to problems before the
question is even posed. Furthermore, a systematicity made intelligible
is suspect by definition: it is a post-facto justification that is valid
only because it fits the requirements of the existing regime of truth;
as Foucault puts it, "truth consists of a certain relationship that
discourse or knowledge has with itself' (Remarks on Marx 62). Similarly,
all explanations proposing clearly defined cause-effect links are
suspect because they discount anything outside the boundaries of what
currently passes the test of intelligibility. As a consequence, the
notion of "intelligibility" as well as the criteria used for making
human activity intelligible constitute the very problem to be addressed.


When critics reproach Foucault for not respecting rationality and the
values accompanying it, they implicitly discount the value and relevancy
of questions that had become unavoidable for him: "What is this Reason
that we use? What are its historical effects? What are its limits, and
what are its dangers? How can we exist as rational beings, fortunately
committed to practicing a rationality that is unfortunately crisscrossed
by intrinsic dangers?" ("Space" 249). For Foucault's critics, these
dangers are nonexistent since they will not allow what is fundamental to
Foucault's way of seeing--that the events marking human existence are
determined at a level not amenable to well-intentioned and rational
methods of oversight and control. Thus Walzer discounts the originality
of Foucault's critique of normalization by arguing that "the triumph of
professional or scientific norms over legal rights and of local
discipline over constitutional law is a fairly common theme of
contemporary social criticism" (in Hoy 59). That is, from Walzer's
perspective, Foucault's critique makes sense only on a level of a common-
sensical, reformist discourse--the kind, precisely, that Walzer believes
in. Therefore, when Foucault points out that his goal in defending the
rights of prisoners "was not to extend the visiting rights of prisoners
to 30 minutes or to procure flush toilets for the cells, but to question
the social and moral distinction between the innocent and the guilty,"
Walzer can only conclude that Foucault is "a moral as well as a
political anarchist. For him morality and politics go together" (61). In
a similar vein, others have pointed to Foucault's unrelenting
"pessimism" and deplored his "nihilism."

As a number of essayists in Hoy's volume make clear, the failure to
think things through is to be found less in Foucault than in the
analyses of his critics. The more recent books of two philosophers, The
Question of Ethics: Nietzsche, Foucault, Heidegger by Charles E. Scott
and Michel Foucault's Force of Flight: Toward an Ethics for Thought by
James W. Bernauer, further demonstrate that Foucault is perfectly
coherent in his theorizing. In the first place, Foucault's critics tend
to predicate their arguments on an unquestioning and nostalgic reverence
for a particular model of human agency; their accusations reveal the
hidden source of this attitude: "Optimism, pessimism, nihilism, and the
like are all concepts that make sense only within the idea of a
transcendental or enduring subject" (Hacking, in Hoy 39-40). Also, as
Bernauer points out, because "we are heirs to an ideophilia, a love of
an ideal intelligibility" (93), anything threatening this comfortable
ideal will be discounted and resisted. Since they operate on the basis
of a system of values they consider unimpeachable, Foucault's critics
generally fail to question the agenda informing their own critique; thus,
for example, Habermas's attacks on Foucault have typically ignored the
post-war German socio-political agenda motivating them. John Rajchman
has argued that Habermas's "Germanic misconstrual" of Foucault is
clearly attributable to the German philosopher's failure to pay
"attention to the 'context' in which he himself is reading the work of
the neostructuralists" (27, 38). The arguments of the critics are
tactical in the sense that they are devised to protect a whole system in
danger of collapsing. But they are also made vulnerable by the very
logic sustaining them.

   Foucault rejected the notion of an objective, uncontaminated,
   willfully rational stand to be assumed outside the realm of one's
   investigations because the constitution of a knowledge was, for
   him, a process that comprised the simultaneous constitution of a
   knowing subject; he explained: "Everything that I have occupied
   myself with up till now essentially regards the way in which
   people in Western societies have had experiences that were used in
   the process of knowing a determinate, objective set of things
   while at the same time constituting themselves as subjects under
   fixed and determinate conditions" (Remarks on Marx 70). A claim of
   an objective standpoint could be nothing less than magical: it
   would imply that the critic who is tied to a concrete historical
   and social development, who speaks the language of a particular
   culture and morality, can somehow and suddenly be set free from
   all contingency and dependency and, rising above the cultural and
   political circumstances enabling his very critique, find himself
   serenely dispensing his judgment in the name of eternal and
   universal truths: Scott finds this approach fundamentally disabled
   by "a torsion of laws that have their authority by virtue of a
   given lineage and that order all random things within their
   jurisdiction as though they derived their force from outside their
   heritage" (60). To ignore the interpretative move that sustains
   one's critical approach is to impose one's arguments
   authoritatively; thus Dreyfus and Rabinow propose that"Habermas's
   refusal to admit his indebtedness to interpretation makes his
   position professoral" (120).

Another reason for rejecting Foucault's work has been based on practical
considerations of political effectiveness. Critics argue that it is
impossible to accept Foucault's analyses because they offer no hope of
resisting, of changing or reforming any system that might be deemed
oppressive. Walzer points out that Foucault neither adopts the codes and
categories of his social system nor does he propose new ones; as a
consequence, "that refusal, which makes his genealogies so powerful and
so relentless, is also the catastrophic weakness of his political
theory" (in Hoy 67). Such a critique once more refuses to entertain the
possibility that the world might function differently from the version
to which it subscribes implicitly. Of course, when relations between
patterns of conscious action and the concatenation of events can be made
intelligible, clear distinctions can be established between the rational
and the irrational, right and wrong, guilt and innocence: Foucault
showed that such distinctions are determined in ways that are not always
evident, rational, or self-consciously purposeful and consistent: It is
precisely when rational intelligibility imposes itself as all-
encompassing and self-sufficient that power strategies operating outside
the limits of immediate comprehension are given free rein. It is for
this reason that Foucault's defense of the rights of prisoners meant to
question "the social and moral distinction between the innocent and the
guilty"--a distinction determined far less objectively, less rationally
than well-meaning defenders of the Western democratic system like to
imagine. Foucault's refusal to play according to the guidelines his
critics consider valid can be considered deficient only if the world
does indeed operate according to the universal values and abstract model
implicit in the reformist, liberal political strategy espoused by Walzer
and others.

Procedures of abstraction and universalization occlude the contingent
nature of events, disguising it with slogans; this pattern was
established at the dawn of the modern age, when the revolution
inaugurating it ended up defining social existence in terms of "a
theoretical liberty and an abstract equality, while at the same time it
created a social system that effectively suppresses this equality and
liberty" (Bernauer 33). Talk of freedom is meaningless unless thought is
freed from its philosophically, politically, and ethically imposed
confinement and thus is given the opportunity to realize the historical
contingency of the real. Foucault's great accomplishment, according to
Bernauer, has been to "free thought from a search for formal structures
and place it in an historical field where it must confront the singular,
contingent, and arbitrary that operate in what is put forward as
universal, necessary, and obligatory" (19). In this way, the function of
the "savoirdimension" of thought is made apparent: it is a dimension
that is inevitably "bound up with social and political practices," since
it shapes knowledge and decisions even before they are made by
determining situations to be analyzed and the remedies to be prescribed.


For a growing number of scholars then, it is the refusal to play
according to the established rules that is the most promising and
valuable aspect of a Foucaultian approach. This refusal requires a
fundamental rethinking of our relation to our thought and to our
subjectivity; and it relocates transcendence from the realm of
subjective certitude to the agency of the symbolic:

For Foucault, there is a transcendence that is not that of a subject, or
of a universal framework of discourse, but rather that of the events in
the particular discourses of which we are capable at a time and place.
Such transcendence is thus not ideal and timeless but material and ever-
changing. It is the "it poses itself' of a question in the midst of the
assumptions upon which our knowledge, our procedures, our agreements
rest. (Rajchman 20)

The recognition of this "material and ever-changing" transcendence at
the level of discourse and discursive events also requires that we
recognize "the effect of non-systematizable randomness that moves
through a systematic discourse" (Scott 60) and that we modify our faith
in our capacity to influence or to change the world around us. To ignore
this randomness and arbitrariness is to help legitimize those processes
of selection, segregation, and hierarchization that are essential in
strategies of self-maintenance and self-determination. Modern forms of
knowledge are predicated on an amnesia that allows them to operate by
forgetting their beginnings, the exclusions and other violent devices
used to establish legitimacy. That is why Foucault's analyses work like
a "counter-memory" by showing that Western Reason has appropriated what
it cannot really control. Reason has assimilated the seeds of its own
destruction by ignoring its own unreasonable attempt to impose a scheme
on everything that lay outside its domain: "Values carry with them their
own formative processes. . . . The ascetic ideal, for example, embodies
both life-affirmation and life-denial. The ethical subject embodies both
autonomy and subjection. Authenticity embodies both self-realization and
self-deconstruction" (Scott 5). The eventual contradictions and
conflicts that emerge in a given system of values are produced by what
Scott characterizes as a "self-overcoming recoil." Scott credits
Foucault with exploiting this propensity for self-questioning inherent
in our very tradition and finds that "self-overcoming and recoil
characterize his thought and give his genealogies an import that goes
considerably beyond the specific claims that he makes" (2).

Elaborating itself on the basis of and separating itself from what
formed it, Foucault's discourse cannot claim to impose a program or to
recommend a correct line of action. The value of his work is
attributable to its manner of questioning itself, of questioning the
very tradition that has given rise to it. As Arnold Davidson rightly
points out, for Foucault, the rules determining our discursive practices
are "never formulated by the participants in the discursive practices;
they are not available to their consciousness, but constitute . . . the
'positive unconscious' of knowledge'" (in Hoy 222). There are, then, two
kinds of operations of knowledge: one conscious, rational, visible but
superficial, serving to promote official goals and programs; the other
unconscious, unobtrusive but most influential, determining moral norms
and legitimating epistemological principles and standards. Ian Hacking
explains that "Foucault used the French word connaissance to stand for
such items of surface knowledge, while savoirmeant more than science; it
was a frame, postulated by Foucault, within which surface hypotheses got
their sense" (in Hoy 30). For Foucault, the official representation of
values was deceiving because he understood that "broad, impersonal
social and historical developments may have little direct connection
with what agents chose to do or what they think they are doing" (Hoy 12)
. Consequently, "As a historian he wants to point to a level below the
explicit moral precepts or other factors that are for the most part
reflectively available to individual agents" (Hoy 17).

Thought does not translate directly into action, therefore, nor do
actions enjoy a transitive relation to the configuration of discursive
and non-discursive practices. There is always an insuperable gap between
our intentions and events because thought "cannot replace or adequately
imitate nonthinking life, that is, most of life" (Scott 10). The modern
mode of representation has provided the unity and continuity necessary
for maintaining the illusion of effective agency. Foucault demonstrated
how the concept of "man" was instrumental in the 19th century in
covering up the discontinuity between consciousness and the experience
of everyday life; this cover-up was part of an attempt to produce a
definitive and synthetic mode of knowledge: the result has been the
dissolution of the "analytic of finitude" and the realization that "Man,
in spite of its goal to provide unity, means discontinuity between
itself and what it knows" (Scott 81). "Man" thus becomes a void; it is
the gap or discontinuity that has suddenly been revealed between being
and knowing. Consequently, in the postmodern context, the individual can
no longer claim the essence of a "being": the newly emerging
consciousness, "trapped by its representational activity, knows itself
only as a representation, never as the pre-representational unity that
it has to be" (Scott 81). The event bringing about this new awareness is
then the force of the ever-changing materiality of discourse. And a
discourse of reason was bound to produce the very questioning that
eventually invalidated its claim to intellectual hegemony.

Foucault has argued that modernity was incapable of producing a morality
that was other than self-referential. In this, it followed the pattern
set by Reason, which was ignorant of its own unreasonable attempt to
impose a rational scheme on the world by pretending that it would keep
the irrational at bay. Foucault also believed that, in an effort to hide
the arbitrariness of their claims, strategies of self-maintenance and
self-determination became inevitably authoritative, even violent; his
analyses can therefore be seen to be motivated by what Scott calls a
general "guiding suspicion" underlying the critique of modernity, the
suspicion that

   the self-determination of our culture makes inevitable the
   suffering and destruction to which it is insensitive not only by
   virtue of its specific values, but also by virtue of the manner of
   self-determination that we broadly call ethics. The issue is
   obscure because we are thoroughly a part of the process and
   structures of value that fall into question. (5)

Traditional morality was established as a mode of self-constitution and
self-mastery and was, at the same time, a "denial of the liberty of its
lineage" because "self-mastery means in practice internalized domination
of an individual by given rules and principles that support the
interests of specific groups of people" (Scott 92). The apparent self-
contradiction of an ideal of self-mastery that works as a device of
control is resolved in the light of Foucault's concept of power-
knowledge strategies: these are inherent in the games of truth and error
that determine what people think since "what people know to be true and
how they influence and control each other--the power they exercise with
regard to each other--are inseparably linked" (Scott 86). Real freedom,
on the other hand, is to be found in "the continuous reversibility and
substitutability of things. The liberty of the subject, for example, is
not found primarily as freedom of choice or as an anxious relation of
subjectivity to an infinite other. It is found in part as the historical
and optional development of self-constitution" (Scott 91). Finally,
because the truth of the subject is determined in the context of games
of truth and error, "the priority of the subject is also reversed, and
the subject is found to derive from games of truth and power" (Scott 88)

Foucault's notable contribution, then, has been to illuminate a
particular aspect of our society and to modify a traditional view that
has been increasingly incapable of accounting for the effects of
power-knowledge strategies in our societies: "The modern state does
not constitute a monolith confronting individuals from above, but a
'matrix of individualization' which forms, shapes and governs
individuality through the exercise of a new form of 'pastoral power'
over the social." The modern state is characterized by "the
development of individualizing techniques and practices which are
reducible neither to force nor to consent, techniques and practices
which have transformed political conflict and struggle through the
constitution of new forms of social cohesion" (Smart, in Hoy 162).
What makes Foucault's theorizing effective is his ability to avoid
ontological or essentializing notions of power: "power is to be taken
nominalistically--not as a real substance or as a property, but simply
as a name for a complex strategy or grid of intelligibility" (Hoy
139). In this light, it makes perfect sense to consider power both
"intentional and non-subjective." The problem, as Bernauer sees it, is
that "the modern subject was fashioned in isolation from ethical and
aesthetic concerns" (174). The truth determining one's place in
society serves to hide the politics of truth that presided over
society's constitution--the economic, ideological, scientific, and
institutional strategies that determine the worth of individuals, the
professional, racial, sexual, and class hierarchies, that legitimize
the possession of privilege and justify the lack thereof. In light of
this understanding, it was clear for Foucault that "present political
struggles must 'revolve around the question: Who are we? They are a
refusal of these abstractions, of economic and ideological state
violence . . . also a refusal of a scientific or administrative
inquisition which determines who one is'" (Bernauer 166). Furthermore,
it is precisely because the subject is, after all, a void, an empty
representation, that we are not hopelessly trapped within the confines
of a system too powerful or too clever to resist. What traps us is
indeed the belief in an essential, subjective reality; the potential
for liberation therefore lies in the realization that the identity of
the subject is no more than an alibi serving the interests of the
dominating order.
   
Bernauer makes a distinction that brings to our attention one of the
principal sources of the misreadings to which a resistance to Foucault
has given rise: "Foucault's investigations were directed not to
philosophical truth but to the historically true," he points out (4).
In this regard, Foucault's thought stands opposed to such modernist
paradigms as existentialism and Marxism, philosophies that "presented
themselves as human-isms in which God was replaced by humanity, and in
which an authentic human existence became an historical possibility"
(10). As a result, both "glorified the individual's historical
responsibility" (11). However, considering that the eschatological
interpretation of human destiny had simply been replaced by a
teleological one, the urge to uncover the philosophically true can
also be seen as a vestige of a religious ethos, of the priestly
impulse to convert, to judge, and to impose the path to salvation.
Although God was replaced by man, the principal modes of modernist
thought retained the earlier theological pattern, patriarchal in
practice and monotheistic in inspiration. As a consequence, the
glorification of the individual's self-determination and
responsibility found itself reflected in the modernist propensity to
grant intellectuals a heroic stature. Modernists had a vested interest
in the theme of a subjective plenitude since the belief in effective
agency authorized their own intellectual status, their claim to judge,
denounce, and propose change.
   
For Foucault, this was an oppressive and confining mode of thought.
Consequently, his purpose was to discount philosophically attained
truths and to dispel the illusion of the heroical status of"man." In
doing this, he revealed an unusual and "acute ability to discover and
describe the confinements that imprison human life and thought"
(Bernauer 6). By revealing the history of the subject, the story of
the ways in which subjectivity had been constituted through the ages,
Foucault pointed out the politics of truth presiding over the
formation of subjects--all the economic, ideological, scientific, and
institutional strategies working to determine the identity and worth
of individuals, the privileges of the haves and the moral
responsibility of the have-nots. Indeed, he was elaborating a new
ethics for thought.
 
                            WORKS REVIEWED
                                      
Bernauer, James W. Michel Foucault's Force of Flight: Toward an Ethics
for Thought. Atlantic Highlands, NJ.: Humanities Press International,
1990. Pp. xii + 261.
   
Hoy, David Couzens. Foucault: A Critical Reader. Oxford: Basil
Blackwell, 1986. Pp. viii + 246. Contains essays by David Couzens Hoy,
Ian Hacking, Richard Rorty, Michael Walzer, Charles Taylor, Jurgen
Habermas, Hubert L. Dreyfus and Paul Rabinow, Edward Said, Barry
Smart, Martin Jay, Mark Poster, Arnold I. Davidson.
 
Scott, Charles E. The Question of Ethics: Nietzsche, Foucault,
Heidegger. Bloomington: Indiana UP, 1990. Pp. xiv + 225.
 
                          OTHER WORKS CITED
                                      
Foucault, Michel. "Interview with Lucette Finas." In Meaghan Morris
and Paul Patton, eds. MichelFoucault: Power, Truth, Strategy. Sidney:
Feral Publications, 1979.67-75.
   
-----. "Politics and Ethics: An Interview." Rabinow. 373-80.
   
-----. Remarks on Marx: Conversations with Duccio Trombadori. Trans.
R. James Goldstein and James Cascaito. New York: Semiotext(e), 1991.
   
-----. "Space, Knowledge, and Power."
   
Rabinow. 239-56. Rabinow, Paul, ed. Foucault Reader. New York:
Pantheon, 1984.
   
Rajchman, John. Philosophical Events: Essays of the '80s. New York:
Columbia UP, 1991.
   
Wolin, Sheldon S. "On the Theory and Practice of Power." After
Foucault: Humanistic Knowledge, Postmodern Challenges. Ed. Jonathan
Arac. New Brunswick: Rutgers UP, 1988. 179-201.
  
~~~~~~~~
   
By KARLIS RACEVSKIS
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