Foucault, Crime, & Terrorism

Throughout “Discipline and Punish” Foucault proposes that the privileged and unprivileged classes are perpetually engaged in a power struggle, which ultimately plays out in the institutions of justice. Foucault observes that the unprivileged are beset with laws dictating their behavior, subject to constant police surveillance, and forced by way of economic and political oppression to congregate in certain districts where they endure a markedly diminished standard of living. As a means of revolting against, or strategically gaining economic advantage under, these conditions, the unprivileged engage in criminal acts. Upon committing such acts, the unprivileged suffer innumerable inhumanities in the court and penal systems, from which they can never fully liberate themselves, even upon having paid restitution, because of the oppressive restrictions these systems subsequently place upon their ability to subsist ( e.g., find suitable employment, obtain affordable housing). As such, the institutions of justice, as a whole, inevitably foster a high rate of recidivism and ensure that a disproportionately higher number of the unprivileged are continuously inducted into its systems. The institutions of justice, established for the purpose of controlling criminality and discouraging delinquency, are found by Foucault to actually engender criminality and delinquency, to a large extent. According to Foucault, this is because the institutions of justice are quietly being implicated by the privileged in its struggle against the unprivileged for resources and power.

Foucault’s observation as to the institutions of justice cause me to wonder to what extent the United States’ military effort to fight terrorism might actually engender it within the occupied nations. In a sense, a similar sort of struggle for power and resources is occurring in these venues. By forcibly overtaking and declaring strict martial law within otherwise sovereign nations, the U.S. is effectively repressing these nations politically and economically and subjecting the nations’s peoples to markedly diminished standards of living. Despite the valiant efforts of the U.S. military forces to quash terrorist activities, the mere presence of these military forces is, to some extent, creating new terrorists. This is because the citizens of the occupied nations are continually having their liberties restricted and property destroyed in the name of police protection; they are brutally being cut down by their own country members for sympathizing, or complying, with U.S. efforts; they are unwittingly encountering terrorist attacks intended for the military forces; they are being drenched in the blood of scores of innocents, the misfortunate collateral damage of military maneuvers; they are perpetually living in a state of fear and unrelenting psychological and emotional distress. Consequently, they are forming an enormous unprivileged class that is well primed for revolt and retaliation.

I don’t deny that the U.S. military forces are amongst the strongest and most effective in the world, but for how long can they be expected to risk their lives in order to contain the political and social ills of other countries, at the command of a government that is not fully able to contain its own country’s political and social ills?

Terrorism is but a popular form of criminality.

Foucaultian Reading of Current Events: Imminent formation of an American Military State

The American system of education is geared more towards psychologically subjugating students in the lower economic stratum, than towards cognitively liberating them.

Moreover, systematically psychologically controlling and mentally castrating the lower economic stratum works to maintain the existing political and economic hegemony of the upper economic stratum.

The upper economic stratum, thus, perpetually maintains positions of consummate power within the state. It does so through its inexhaustible financial resources and its ability to mesmerize the masses through rhetorical prowess.

The upper economic stratum, consequently, gains control of the nation’s military might and uses it to extend the upper economic stratum’s influence, increase its economic advantage, and advance its own purposes. Hence, the birth of the military state and an economy of war.

The production of auxiliary industries of war and the appropriated natural resources and labor of colonized countries would soon sustain America

The American poor are off to war

They enlist with a sigh, as a way to survive

And are sent overseas to die.

Memoir

Rhonda Jones
English 621
Professor Brown
May 27, 2009
                               Turning point
          The sharp wail of an air raid siren suddenly troubled the stillness of the night, startling me from a deep slumber into a heightened state of wakefulness. I jerked myself from my bunk and darted ahead of my two roommates into the latrine to square away my personal hygiene. Then I slid into one of the crisply pressed green camouflage uniforms hanging in the nearby locker and tugged on a glassy pair of leather boots. Only seconds later, I was charging down the two story barrack stairwell into a chilly Kansas dawn. I strode purposefully towards the 16th Mobile Army Surgical Hospital’s headquarters, where the company’s troops were already beginning to fall into a formation about ten soldiers wide and fifteen or so soldiers long. The air raid siren had signified the beginning of Ft. Riley’s war games: a full week of mock battles and training exercises. My pace quickened, as eager anticipation coursed through my veins.
          As I hurried down the paved walkway towards the headquarters, I noticed dense white smoke billowing from one of the red brick buildings just ahead. A few steps further, I struck an invisible wall of noxious fume and was suddenly overcome by extreme nausea and intense stomach spasms. I doubled over and fell to my knees. Then I gasped for air and began retching uncontrollably. The relentless gastric attack rendered me completely helpless. I remained there for some time, heaving in agony over a pool of my own vomit. Eventually, several cohorts lifted me to my feet and helped me to limp over to the assembly of soldiers a short distance away.
          Once in the fresh air, the attack subsided somewhat, though I continued to feel lethargic and to periodically retch. In a moment of clarity, I came to realize just what had happened. As I had approached the chow hall on the way to headquarters, the thick odor of fried bacon grease that poured from the hall’s chimney had inadvertently triggered the gastric attack. I was terribly embarrassed and ashamed by my display of physical weakness. But more than that, I was shocked and terrified by the fact that I could no longer ignore, or hide from others, my pregnancy.
          Up to this point, I had refused to allow pregnancy to diminish my intensive lifestyle. I ran and exercised all the more vigorously, rappelled off of towers and the sides of cliffs, and worked maddeningly towards completing various military and college courses at Kansas State University, all while moonlighting several nights a week as a cocktail waitress and managing a full-time military career. Already grappling with near physical exhaustion and mild sleep deprivation, I had absolutely no room in my life for a baby.
          After all, I was on the fast track to the type of career success that I had always wanted. I worked hard and studied intensively. Within a few weeks, I was to be interviewed by a recruiter from West Point Military Academy and accompany him to New York to tour the facility. I was an extraordinarily determined and even more selfish and egotistical nineteen year old. This pregnancy was absolutely not going to ruin my life.
          Jon obviously did not want a child either. His feeble proposal of marriage belied his utter disgust with the predicament that we had now found ourselves in. We did not love each other. We had only loved the idea of having sex. And even the sex was not all that it was cracked up to be. I was absolutely alone, with a terrible burden embedded deep within my womb.
And I could not stop vomiting. The nausea and vomiting once again intensified and this was soon accompanied by torrential bouts of diarrhea. My company commander ordered me to report to the medical clinic, which ordered me to report to Irwin Army Hospital, as I was rapidly becoming dehydrated. Somehow I made it to the hospital. After examining me, the physician postulated that my exacerbated morning sickness was likely the result of my carrying multiple fetuses. I just starred at him, mouth agape, in utter horror and disbelief.
           The physician explained that it would be necessary to conduct a test to determine exactly how many fetuses I was carrying. Because I was in my first trimester of pregnancy, he could easily perform an ultrasound by inserting a rather sizable probe inside of me. The prospect of enduring such a procedure was totally mortifying, yet I compliantly slipped my heels into the stirrups and scooted my pelvis towards the end of the examining table. The physician slathered a cold, slimy lubricating jelly onto the ultrasound probe and after a bit of mild discomfort it was set into place.
          Just before the ultrasound image flickered onto the screen, I decided that I had all that I could possibly stand of pregnancy. Abortion was now a viable option. After all, I was only in my first trimester, and it would simply be a matter of scraping off a few clumps of cells. I lay there in silence, grateful that the physician was too absorbed in his imaging procedure to notice my anguish and despair. “Only one fetus,” the physician noted after a brief period of silence.
“A fetus is basically just a bunch of cells, right?”
“Why don’t you see for yourself.”
          I reluctantly turned my head toward the computer screen, fully expecting to be confounded and exasperated by indecipherable images. My eyes slowly shifted towards the area of the screen just above the physician’s pointed finger, where a breathtaking image appeared. “As you can see,” the physician explained, “the fetus is fully formed at this stage, although it is no more than an inch and a half or so in length.” In awe, I stared at this computer image of the curious being that was growing inside of me.
           I was mesmerized by how absolutely perfect and beautiful it was. I could clearly see most of its tiny fingers and toes, which were already beginning to grow nails. I could clearly see the features of its face– it looked just like Jon. Every so often I would see one of its limbs move. And throughout the entire ultrasound it remained in an adorable pose, with one hand tucked underneath its chin, as if the baby were in deep contemplation. I was delighted at how intellectual the baby appeared. But what struck me most of all was the fact that I had accomplished something greater than anything I had ever before endeavored …I had just created a life.
          I decided at that moment that this baby was my baby. It was as much a part of me as were my arms or legs. I felt as if I could never be separated from it. There was no doubt in my mind that I loved it and that it would love me. I had at no time before experienced such clarity and so strong a sense of purpose. And as I came to the realization that my life must drastically alter its course, I felt no sadness or fear. I felt only peace and hope for the future.
When I look back upon my life, I consider this first encounter with my yet to be born child to be a major turning point. The point at which I was confronted with a choice between creating a materially successful life filled with meaningless things and creating a life for another human being filled with little more than love. By the grace of God, I was able to negotiate the best possible course of action. I was blessed to have been afflicted with gastrointestinal problems. For had it not put me in danger of dehydration, I would never have had to go to the hospital and would have missed this chance see my unborn child.  Worse, I could have ended up making a decision that I would have regretted for the rest of my life. In the end, I walked away from a military career and ran with eager anticipation towards a much more worthy adventure.