Radical Philosophy is a UK-based journal of socialist and
feminist philosophy. The journal appears 6 times a year and features
major academic articles, commentaries, news and a large & diverse
reviews section.
RP 181 (Sept/Oct 2013)
Yannis Stavrakakis
The passage from early to late modernity is generally associated with a gradual process of democratization, in
both political and economic realms. Politically speaking,
representative democracy has enjoyed an unprecedented global spread. In
the West, especially, political and social rights seemed to have
flourished until quite recently. Economically speaking, we have
witnessed a ‘democratization of consumption’ with the gradual spread of a
consumerist culture of ‘luxury’: having emerged with the ‘conspicuous
consumption’ typical of court society, this ethos gradually colonized,
first, the bourgeoisie and then the lower classes, creating a
predominantly consumerist society. Up to a certain point the two
processes progressed together, which is how the system managed to co-opt
popular pressures and social movements and create relative stability:
by largely replacing prohibition with commanded enjoyment and
disciplinary power with the productive regulation of desire. Both
pillars of this process are currently in crisis. The crisis first
affected the political realm, marking the post-democratic mutation of representative democracy.
Jacques Rancière is one of the political theorists who coined the
term ‘post-democracy’. According to his schema, it denotes ‘the paradox
that, in the name of democracy, emphasises the consensual practice of
effacing the forms of democratic action’.1 This diagnosis is
largely congruent with the sociological observations of Colin Crouch:
while the formal aspect of democratic institutions remains more or less
in place, politics and government are gradually slipping back into the
control of privileged groups in a way reminiscent of pre-democratic
times.2 What accompanies the development of post-democracy,
Rancière argues, is an outright identification of democratic form with
the ‘necessities’ of globalized capital:
From an allegedly defunct Marxism, the supposedly reigning liberalism
borrows the theme of objective necessity, identified with the
constraints and caprices
of the world market. Marx’s once scandalous thesis that governments
are simple business agents for international capital is today an obvious
fact on which ‘liberals’ and ‘socialists’ agree. The absolute
identification of politics with the management of capital is no longer
the shameful secret hidden behind the ‘forms’ of democracy; it is the
openly declared truth by which our governments acquire legitimacy.3
How was the passage to this hybrid regime achieved without the
development of significant resistance? What permitted the slow but
steady development of ‘post-democracy’?
It is important to note that, at first, the post-democratic dynamic
did not affect the ‘democratization of consumption’, although it
signalled a significant increase in inequality. This delicate balancing
act was accomplished through the accumulation of debt. The loss of
political and social rights went largely ‘unobserved’ to the extent that
the lower strata could still function as consumers by getting more and
more loans. The hegemony of finance managed to exchange rights for
credit and debt. Thus, if the welfare state was instrumental in
sustaining ‘mass consumption’ through income redistribution, in consumerist post-democracy ‘consumer credit has taken the role that belonged to the welfare state in the Fordist regime’.4
Multiple faces of debt
It is here, however, that things acquire an extra moral, subjective gravitas with
immense social and political implications. Although Maurizio Lazzarato
fails to inscribe his analysis within the long sociological and
psychoanalytic traditions of ethics, morality and the spirits of
capitalism, his impressive The Making of the Indebted Man offers a
revealing account of the way in which the hegemonization of economic
behaviour by debt/credit started producing effects well beyond the
economic field. How? Because debt acts as a ‘capture’, ‘predation’, and
‘extraction’ machine on the whole of society, as an instrument for
macroeconomic prescription and management, and as a mechanism for income
redistribution. It also functions as a mechanism for the production and
‘government’ of collective and individual subjectivities.5
It is the realm of subjectivity that stands at the epicentre of this
functioning: ‘debt breeds, subdues, manufactures, adapts, and shapes
subjectivity’.6 It works at the intersection of power, morality and the economy.
Starting with the role of Christianity that ‘interiorizes’ debt as
‘feeling of guilt’ and then drawing primarily on Nietzsche and Deleuze,
Lazzarato shows how debt involves a special type of power relation ‘that
entails specific forms of production and control of subjectivity – a
particular form of homo economicus, the “indebted man’”. This is a type of power that operates through the establishment of a specific morality of promise (to honour one’s debt) and fault (for
having entered it). This creditor-debtor relationship involves ‘an
ethico-political process of constructing a subjectivity endowed with a
memory, a conscience, and a morality that forces him to be both
accountable and guilty. Economic production and the production of
subjectivity, labour and ethics, are indissoluble.’7
As we all know, the problem with this model is that it facilitated
the banking crisis of 2008. Once interest rates rise, once the housing
market stalls, once banking risk assessment models fail, ‘the whole
mechanism of income “distribution” through debt and finance collapses’.
It is rather surprising, however, that although, in the beginning, the
crisis seemed to provide the condition of possibility for a progressive
repoliticization of the economy – highlighting the need to reverse the
trend of ‘deregulation’ – it is currently being used in a bid to
reinforce further the neoliberal post-democratic orthodoxy, at least
within the European context. Having first encouraged the spirit of
loan-dependant consumerism, having allowed a prolonged bankers’ party,
the same neoliberal power bloc uses debt – now passed on to state
budgets – in order to reverse democratization. Now the process of
de-democratization, which first affected the political field, is also
affecting consumption: the consumerist society of ‘commanded enjoyment’
is violently turned back into a ‘society of prohibition’.8 By
turning private debt into sovereign debt, by individualizing and
spreading the blame for both of them (public and private debt), ‘the
blow to neoliberal governmentality from the subprime crisis will, in the
short run, be transformed into a victory for the universal debt
economy’. Indeed, without taking into account this multi-modal function
of debt, its ability to operate at a plurality of levels, its
historical/subjective association with shame and guilt, it is impossible
to make sense of the way the crisis has been managed up to now.
Not only has neoliberalism, since its emergence, been founded on a
logic of debt, but crucially ‘the power bloc of the debt economy has
seized on the latest financial crisis as the perfect occasion to extend
and deepen the logic of neoliberal polities’. Using the threat of
sovereign debt default, the neoliberal power bloc ‘seeks to follow
through on a program it has been fantasizing about since the 1970s:
reduce wages to the minimum, cut social services so that the Welfare
State is made to serve its new “beneficiaries” – business and the rich –
and privatize everything.’9 Ironically, it is here that we
encounter the bizarre reversal marking the end of the process of the
‘democratization of consumption’. If debt/credit was initially used to
safeguard our access to consumption in an increasingly unequal society,
if it functioned to sustain our aristocratic fantasies of ‘conspicuous
consumption’, now it violently ‘brings us back to a [very different]
situation [equally] characteristic of feudalism, in which a portion of
labour is owed in advance, as serf labour, to the feudal lord’.10
The Greek lab: metaphors and repertoires
Having been the experimental laboratory of neoliberal and other
strategies (before, that is, Cyprus took over), Greece provides the
perfect ground to test the validity of these hypotheses regarding the
multiple and changing faces of debt – highlighting the successive
endorsement and enforcement of antithetical ethico-political
orientations (from encouraging to stigmatizing debt and individualizing
blame, shame and guilt, and even to experimenting with debt
cancellation) – and its political effectivity. What if debt is not only a
problem but also a mechanism of domination, in other words a solution
of sorts? What if the sense of guilt it creates is so pervasive
precisely because it precedes its current deployment and builds on
subjective infrastructures sedimented in the longue durée?
Crises usually disturb dominant representations, shake up our sense
of continuity and generate new narratives attempting to regulate the
social bond, often in favour of pre-existing social hierarchies. After
three years of being subjected to them, we can certainly map them with
great accuracy. I am referring mainly to the dominant discourse of
European institutions, which is also accepted and largely reproduced by
mainstream intellectuals and the media in Greece. Examined in its
genealogical unfolding (before and after the crisis) this discourse is
itself marked by a certain irregularity or discontinuity. Where is this
located? Almost overnight the country that entered the euro and hosted
the Olympics, winning unconditional international acclaim, the EU’s
agent and preferential business partner in the Balkans, a valued market
for European commodities (from lucrative arms deals and overpriced
medical supplies to luxury cars and hi-tech products), became the sick
man of Europe, a bete noire to be ridiculed, condemned and disciplined in the most severe and exemplary way.
In mapping the discourses that expressed this gigantic disciplining
operation, driving a huge experiment in violent downward social mobility
and neoliberal restructuring, we encounter a process of creating and
sustaining shame and guilt – and thus legitimizing punishment, in the
form of radical impoverishment, skyrocketing unemployment, liquidation
of labour and other social rights – that relies, at least on a first
level, on a series of metaphors, all of them supported by what Lacan
called the ‘discourse of the university’, that is to say expert
knowledge. As if the characters from Norbert Elias’s and Foucault’s
books had returned to life, we encounter the doctor and the teacher
assuming once more their ‘civilizing’, disciplinary and pastoral roles
and practices.
We can clearly see the operation of a medical metaphor, for example.
The crisis is declared a serious illness, the result of an inherent
social pathology; ‘contagion’ and ‘contamination’ are feared, severe
medication needs to be prescribed – like an experimental chemotherapy,
even if it puts at risk the life of the patient, it is the only thing
that promises to restore her or his functions; or so the argument goes.
We can also discern a very traditional pedagogical metaphor, where the
problem, the cause of the crisis, is now attributed to a certain
immaturity and/or misbehaviour. Greece is to be treated the way one
treats a truant child, who deserves to be punished not only in order to
straighten out his or her own behaviour but also as an example to other
children. The list can be extended, but at least one more central
metaphor needs to be mentioned, besides the two already presented: the zoomorphic one.
The moral contempt energizing this discourse is revealed at its purest
in the equation between peoples and animals, a rhetorical move that
greatly enriches the discursive repertoire of the disciplining process
under way: the South of Europe is thus designated as PIIGS, devoid of
humanity, rationality and dignity. The distance between pigs and ‘guinea
pigs’ is not that substantial, after all.
In these narratives, these new representations, crisis does not
appear merely as a neutral fact, as a simple disruption; it is clearly
reconstructed as a major failure. If the crisis itself represents something, it is failure; but not, of course, any failure.
We are not talking about the collapse of a system, a systemic failure,
but about a personalized failure. It is not a question of ‘what?’ but of
‘who?’ It is here that a whole process of localization starts, a
process that, as we have seen, in order to localize and narrate this
failure incorporates medical, rationalistic and moralistic categories
and tropes in a political blend of great salience. However, what are the
conditions of possibility for the political effectivity of these
discourses? How do they manage to affect so many people and social
groups and so efficiently perform the sleight of hand of camouflaging a
systemic failure as an exceptional/individual failure?
Let us, then, move from metaphors to discursive strategies. It is not
by coincidence that Greece is often presented by mainstream
commentators and academics (both inside the country and abroad) as an exceptional case that deserves its predicament due to the irrational and immoral excesses in which its inhabitants engaged. Hubris and nemesis acquire
thus a new meaning in a narrative employed to legitimize the revolt of
European (and Greek) elites. What this moralistic argument fails to
register is, first, that Greece is not alone in this; it enjoys the
company of an expanding list of other ‘exceptional cases’. What, then,
if exceptionalism is used here within the scope of a neocolonial ‘divide-and-rule’
strategy with universal applicability? Needless to say, the use of the
category ‘neocolonial’ in this text does not imply a one-dimensional
relation of subordination and subjection. The neocolonialism we are
currently experiencing is so pervasive that metropolitan centre and
periphery are both affected. The free association that springs to mind
here is that of a song by the well-known Greek electronic music band
Stereo Nova from 1992: ‘My country is a colony of a larger colony’ One
should not forget that the austerity trend started in Germany and is
bound to return to Germany, sooner or later.
Interestingly enough, this is a strategy used both to regulate
relations between states – each time one case is stigmatized in order to
discipline the rest, before a new one enters the stigmatized group
(PIIGS) – as well as relations between social/professional groups,
between whole generations and between individuals within states. In
Greece, for example, the same strategy was used first to demonize civil
servants before encompassing the private sector. We could, perhaps,
interpret this move within the general political technology of
individualizing blame and shame/guilt. If a particular country is facing
difficulties, this has nothing to do with systemic faults and is solely
attributed to internal failings and pathologies – so the argument goes;
similarly, within each country, social groups are stigmatized as
irrational and immoral one after the other so that any feeling of common
purpose between them is minimized and resistance to the austerity
avalanche is disarmed. Everyone is responsible for her- or himself all
the way down to the individual level: if one is poor or unemployed this
is one’s own personal fault.
Paradoxes of Greek debt
What is, however, the proof of Greece’s failure, the symptom of
its illness? What is the indisputable evidence that constitutes the
basis of blame, the source of shame and guilt? The answer is simple: the
accumulation of debt. Debt emerges as the nodal point of all the
aforementioned practices of discipline, punishment and blame. Debt,
however, as a mere numerical value has no inherent meaning; its
implications are relative to the economic, social and political
environment. Due to a shift in this environment, Greece’s debt and
deficit were, almost overnight, declared unsustainable and a series of
brutal ‘internal devaluation’ measures were imposed as the only
solution, as the only cure – with all their catastrophic repercussions:
as a result of the ensuing depression, GDP shrank by 20 per cent in
2008-12 and unemployment stands at 26 per cent, with youth unemployment
well over 50 per cent.
It is here that some really puzzling paradoxes start to emerge. How
is it possible that the policies imposed to remedy this problem – the
economic and moral failure of excessive debt – while gradually bringing
the deficit under control, only promise to ‘stabilize’ debt in 2020
almost at the same level as in 2008-09, at the start of the crisis?
Isn’t that revealing of the fact that, at least during this delicate
phase, debt functions both as a failure and as a pathology to be
remedied but also as a controlling mechanism to be sustained and
utilized in the ‘proper’ ways? This is, then, the paradox in which we
find ourselves (and it’s only the first one in a series and one with a
quasi-universal function). On the one hand, debt is declared unethical après coup,
blame for it is retroactively individualized – ownership is ascribed to
particular states, groups and individuals, largely ignoring broader
systemic inequalities – and a pound of flesh is demanded from all, with
the normal exclusion of the elites, of course. On the other hand, debt
is accepted as something that is here to stay, as something that needs
to be somehow stabilized and protected – even ‘cultivated’ – in order to
be used as a tool to threaten, subject, control. Indeed, no one can
escape today the web of indebtedness, and this applies not only to
Greece but to a wide range of institutional entities and subjects, from
states that are obliged to bail out their collapsing banks to students
who instead of scholarships now receive loans so that their life starts
overdetermined by a huge burden.
How is it possible for so many people to accept this course of events
given that debt accumulation constituted thoroughly ethical behaviour
within recent capitalist consumerist societies? How is it possible for
debt to turn overnight from good to bad object – from an accomplishment
to a failure for which each and everyone (from states to individuals) is
fully accountable and for which eternal suffering can be the only
reward? It is impossible to make sense of this miraculous transformation
without reversing causality, highlighting retroactivity, and taking
into account long-term structures of subjection.
There is plenty of evidence to suggest that the assumption of shame
and guilt is always already presupposed as a long-term subjective
infrastructure well before each of its (contingent) historical
instantiations. For example, how else can one explain the fact that
today many are forced to feel ashamed and guilty because of their
(national, family and personal) indebtedness, while a few years ago the
same people were actively encouraged to accumulate credit and debt in
order to spend, consume and enjoy? Shame and guilt plagued only those
who could not keep up with the generalized/democratized spirit of
‘conspicuous consumption’. Clearly some sort of pre-existing propensity
needs to be posited, which has nothing to do with the particular (very
different if not contradictory) contents involved. What is at stake with
credit and debt is something that goes far beyond economics and
involves subject formation at the most profound level, vindicating
Lazzarato’s argument, albeit with a psychoanalytic twist. If such
construction works through the (impossible) assumption of duty, shame
and guilt and their political regulation, we need to register what
psychoanalysis adds to this picture when it acknowledges them as
founding gestures of modern subjectivity. This type of political
regulation and social control operates through the multiple and
alternating faces of the superego: prohibitive and brutal (Freud) as
well as permissive and generative (Lacan). Such constitutive ambivalence
and historical variability in the subjective infrastructure within
civilization emerges as an indispensable technology of domination
through its association with other processes in which splitting and
mutual engagement continuously alternate: the dialectic between the two
spirits of capitalism as well as that between the different faces of
power, as formulated by Foucault.
Enforced accumulation of debt and stigmatization and punishment of
indebtedness constitute internal if antithetical moments of the same
mechanism, utilizing subject construction in the service of social
hierarchy. And when the loop between the two fails, debt cancellation
and debt forgiveness are called for to sustain social order.
Historically, these three options have alternated, sustaining but also
gradually shifting power relations. We know, for example, that debt
cancellation has usually been a popular demand and has often resulted in
the foundation of democratic regimes – the prime example is, of course,
Solon’s Seisachtheia and the foundation of Athenian democracy.
Nevertheless, debt cancellation has also been used by pharaohs, kings
and tyrants to gain popular support.11 In the case of Greece
today, we have seen institutional forces promoting in turn all three
options. In the beginning, before the crisis, debt accumulation was
allowed and even propagated within the framework of the second,
consumerist spirit of capitalism. Then, almost overnight, the same
institutions elevated excessive debt into a pathological failure to be
punished by ‘post-modern’ forms of debt bondage. Three years into the
crisis, the troika has also orchestrated processes of debt
restructuring, with a twist, however! This (partial) debt cancellation
has miraculously failed to make any real difference to the long-term viability of Greek debt or to the current predicament of the Greek people.
The end of post-democracy?
One of the tentative conclusions to be drawn is that the current
management of the crisis involves a continuous dialectic between
subjectivity and the social bond using well-tested technologies of
domination that manage to sublimate what appears as ambivalence and
contradiction (encouraged accumulation of debt and punishment), even
breakthrough (debt cancellation), into a mutual engagement sustaining
the dominant power bloc. However, in order fully to account for the
subjective/collective imposition of this dialectic, for its political
effectivity, one would also need to take into account a separate –
although not unrelated – dimension of biopolitical performativity
and retroactivity. What is the reversal required here? We have
discussed a process of creating and sustaining shame and guilt and thus
legitimizing punishment – but what if it is also the other way round?
Perhaps what permits debt to turn overnight from positive to negative,
from good to bad object, is also the brutality and meaninglessness of
the punishment itself – as well as its universal application.
Paradoxically, the harsher and the more uncalled-for the punishment, the
easier this shift is being accepted. The biopolitical performativity of
the punishment itself retroactively ascribes to past behaviour the
stigma of an excessive, immoral, irrational pathology. Here, punishment
seems to retroactively produce guilt and shame, almost bypassing blame.
This is a sinister occurrence, with serious implications for the way we
characterize the course of (post-)democratic politics in countries of
the European periphery.
The crucial question is the following: how is one to assess the establishment of ‘neoliberal’ debt society?
Does it constitute a sign of further post-democratization? Or does it
signify a passage beyond post-democracy, into the terrain of what,
currently, can only be signified as a contradiction in terms, as
authoritarian or ‘totalitarian democracy’?12 Colin Crouch is in favour of the first course:
the entire way in which the crisis has been managed has
been evidence of a further drift towards post-democracy. First, the
Anglo-American financial model that produced the crisis in the first
place was designed by a politico-economic elite that corresponds to my
concept, as bankers moved in and out of the revolving doors in
Washington, designing policies to suit their firms. Then the management
of the crisis itself was primarily a rescue operation for banks at the
expense of the rest of the population. The most explicit expression of
the post-democratic aspects of crisis management was the framing of the
Greek austerity package, designed by international authorities in close
collaboration with an association of leading bankers.13
However, what if the management of the crisis itself increasingly
functions in ways difficult to make compatible with even the most formal
definition of (post-)democracy?
One can highlight many such instances in the recent Greek peripeteia. One
that acquired broad visibility from very early on was the brutal
suppression by Merkel and Sarkozy of the referendum initiative by George
Papandreou during the Cannes G20 summit (3-4 November 2011), as Jürgen
Habermas and Ulrich Beck were quick to point out.14 And what
happens when the ‘shock and awe’ strategy we have described and the
ensuing social dislocation do lead to popular reaction? The situation in
Greece is also revealing from this point of view. Reaction triggers a
twofold strategy on behalf of the dominant elites: at the ideological
level dissent is denounced as ‘irresponsible populism’, while at the
institutional level it triggers the mutation of post-democracy into a
new hybrid in which legality is increasingly distanced from legitimacy,
the separation of powers suffers, and the parliament itself is
marginalized as more and more elements of a virtual ‘rule by decree’ are
put in place.
Above all else, however, the clearest indication of such a passage is
the brutality and meaninglessness of the ‘punishment’ itself; in many
cases, unsupported by any reasonable argument, the measures implemented
solely serve the performative imposition of a brutal mode of domination.
Thus, in addition to guilt and shame being used to legitimize fiscal
punishment, functioning in and almost beyond representation, the
unprecedented biopolitical severity of the measures implemented
reinforces, in and of itself, the guilt/ shame complex. A political form
thus emerges that seems to be inadequately captured by the concept of
‘post-democracy’.
Two recent examples, commonplace in the Greek public sphere, are
indicative of this trend. First, the widely reported ‘mistake’ made by
the IMF in calculating the effect of the measures implemented on GDP
contraction.15 In the face of such an astonishing admission
of undercalculation, with disastrous consequences for the Greek economy,
and following calls from all political sides to relax the current
policies, the troika insisted on Christine Lagarde’s motto:
‘implementation, implementation, implementation’! The same nihilistic
brutality marks another recent incident: the huge increase in heating
oil prices imposed by the troika. As a result, consumption of heating
oil collapsed, most Greeks have endured a winter without central
heating, forests around urban areas have suffered enormously from people
desperate to heat their families, and, last but not least, atmospheric
conditions in cities have deteriorated rapidly due to people burning
whatever they could find in order to heat themselves. Whenever it was
pointed out within the public sphere that the increase in tax revenues
was actually negligible or even non-existent, while the situation
resembled a humanitarian catastrophe, the answer was that nothing could
be changed. This legislation is still in place.
What is at stake here is a mechanism that works through pain. In
Lazzarato’s terms, it is a mechanism that works through a ‘mnemotechnics
of cruelty’, which inscribes the promise of debt repayment on the body
itself. In Shakespearean terms, a pound of flesh, a limb, has to be
extracted in order for this power structure to produce the surplus of
meaningless despair that will allow it to be accepted fatalistically –
or so the logic goes. Should we still describe this turn of events
within the rubric of ‘post-democracy’, or is the current turn of
neoliberal governmentality to universal cruelty a clear sign that the
current phase of the debt economy entails not post-democracy but rather
‘anti-democracy’? If, as Lazzarato puts it, ‘extortion is the mode of
“democratic” government to which neoliberalism leads’, then we may very
soon find ourselves forced to debate the emergence of a European
authoritarianism.16
Notes
- Jacques Rancière, On the Shores of Politics, Verso, London, 1995, pp. 177; Jacques Rancière, Dis-agreement, University of Minnesota Press, Minneapolis, 1999, pp. 101-2.
- Colin Crouch, Post-Democracy, Polity Press, Cambridge, 2004, p. 6.
- Rancière, Dis-agreement, p. 113.
- Christian Marazzi, Capital and Affects, Semiotexte/MIT Press, Cambridge MA, 2011, pp. 126-8.
- Maurizio Lazzarato, The Making of the Indebted Man, Semiotexte/MIT Press, Cambridge MA, 2012, pp. 29
- Ibid., pp. 38-9
- Ibid., pp. 77-8, 46, 49 For an examination of the temporal aspects of this process, see Simon Morgan Wortham, ‘Time of Debt: On the Nietzschean Origins of Lazzarato’s Indeted Man’, Radical Philosophy 180, July/August 2013, p. 35-43.
- Ibid., p. 111. I am utilizing here the conceptual dyad developed by Todd McGowan in The End of Dissatisfaction? Jacques Lacan and the Emerging Society of Enjoyment, SUNY Press, Albany NY, 2004
- Ibid., pp. 29, 10.
- Baudrillard cited in ibid., p. 13.
- Michael Hudson, ‘DebtandDemocracy: HastheLinkBeen Broken?’, 2011,
http://www.nakedcapitalism.com/2011/12/michael-hudson-debt-and-democracy-has-the-link-been-broken.html
.
- Marazzi, Capital and Affects, p. 141.
- Colin Crouch, ‘Five Minutes with Colin Crouch’, 2013, http://blogs.lse.ac.uk/politicsandpolicy/archives/30297
- See Jürgen Habermas, ‘Rettet die Wurde der Demokratie’, Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, 4
November 2011,
http://www.faz.net/aktuell/feuilleton/euro-krise-rettet-die-wuerde-der-demokratie-11517735.html;
Jürgen Habermas, ‘Europe’s Post-democratic Era’, Guardian, 10 November 2011; Ulrich Beck, ‘Creons une Europe des citoy-ens!’, Le Monde, 26 December 2011, http://www.lemonde.fr/idees/article/2011/12/26/creons-une-europe-des-citoy-ens_1622792_3232. html.
- Olivier Blanchard and Daniel Leigh, ‘Growth Forecast Errors and Fiscal Multipliers’, IMF working paper, Washington DC, 2013.
- Lazzarato, The Making of the Indebted Man, pp. 40-41, 109, 158, 160.
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