Statistics, by cooking the books, say that Australia’s unemployment is at 8.6 per cent, or just under one million people. If we disregard that one hour’s work a week classifies a person as employed, then the figure is really between 1.5 million and 1.9 million unemployed. This is a crisis that recent governments have ignored because of a lack of will. We are regarded as a Third World country with First World living conditions. We have one of the highest interest rates in the world, and we owe more money per capita than any other country. All we need is a nail hole in the bottom of the boat and we’re sunk.
In this paper, I want to use the appeal of Pauline Hanson’s One Nation Party as a point of departure to reflect on the idea of liberal democracy and equality. As the One Nation Party teaches us here in Australia, ‘popular’ resistance to the two party system does not necessarily make it ‘popular’ with the population at large and, without a doubt, not with intellectual critics. Why is this so?
The Pauline H. phenomenon might be a good example to call into question the wisdom of a free public space opened to all individuals. I want to argue—in contrast to the commonly agreed analysis of the One Nation Party as an irrational eruption of dark feelings within the community—that we can see it as a possibility for the opening up of the political space. I want to claim that the appeal of the One Nation Party is not only because of its racist strategy—which clearly is a part of its attraction—but, rather, the One Nation Party’s appeal is also because it represents an alternative economic model of the management of the state which two main parties do not provide. In order to understand my claim, I will outline the liberal concept of the state and its critique and Aristotle’s model concerning the political.
How can we understand the ‘rationale’ of the One Nation Party, which, during the WA and Queensland State elections in 2001, refused to play by the set rules? Instead of nominating a representative according to the liberal logic, voters of the One Nation were asked to play a simple mechanical role—to vote against every sitting member of the Parliament, irrespective of their Party’s affiliation. By this naïve gesture, they caused ‘havoc’ by their opposition to the given, agreed norms of the political arena. Consider, for example, Shapiro’s insight that liberalism “devised a rational method for settling differences between opposing interests”. He argues that by elevating the problems between different opinions—“social, economic, religious, racial and ideological”—into the political arena, they are resolved “peacefully at the polls”. What this claim amounts to is the idea that the state is a neutral umpire that stands above all parties and judges and distributes impartially. At the time of an election, and only then, individuals can ‘judge’ this performance and decide who will be the next ‘impartial’ umpire, so to speak, or, in a modern parlance, a better manager.
Yet, according to Rousseau, if people believe in their freedom, they are “gravely mistaken”. People are “free only during the election of Members of Parliament”. The moment the election is over, “the people is enslaved; it is nothing”. As Pierre Manent, in Rousseau’s spirit, says, an election is nothing else than “moment when each person strips himself of his social or natural characteristics—income, profession, even sex—to become a ‘simple individual’?” Manent, questioning the supremacy of the individual, points out that “it is on this idea, [that is] so obviously ‘asocial’ and ‘apolitical’, that the liberal body politic was progressively constructed”. Claude Lefort, for example, calls liberalism “the fiction of a society”. Liberalism is supposedly sustained by a “free competition between independent owners”. In order to safeguard “persons and property”, the state’s function should be minimal and its only role should be to guarantee fairness of the “rules of the game”.
So, for Shapiro, the liberal state is clearly “the masterpiece of political man” that is “dedicated to preserving and enlarging human freedom in all ways,” while for Rousseau, the only “brief moments of [people’s] freedom” is election time, when “people makes such a use of that freedom that it deserves to lose it”.
In short, these differences amount to a distinction between different approaches to the theory of the state. One model privileges the notion of liberty, thus sees the state always in opposition to the individual and calls for a minimum state with its simultaneous commitment to the invisible hand of the market which rules the best when left alone to navigate among the different pursuits of individuals. This metaphysical dream is called liberalism. Bill Gates is the best example to show that money can buy even this invisible hand of the market. On the other hand, we have another model, where the notion of equality is stressed. This is another metaphysical dream called democracy. Given the recent concerns about globalisation, when—as the rhetoric goes—the rich are becoming richer and the poor are getting poorer, we might want to ask with Aristotle: equality in what?
It is important to stress that the notion of the equal and free individual crossed the boundary between theory and praxis. The ontological question of what exists first, the individual or the community is a question of modernity. An understanding of the individual as an indistinguishable part of a community is not possible in modern thinking. The moment we can posit the question—what comes first, individual or community—means that we are already aware of the possibility of an individual separated and distinct from her community. This is essentially a recent conception of human beings, one that would have been foreign, for example, to the ancient Greeks or the Christians ruled by an omnipotent and inscrutable God. Now, we all believe that we are free and equal.
To understand the idea of democracy with its concomitant call for equality of all, let us make a digression to its beginning. Aristotle, trying to formulate the just constitution, is reflecting on the idea of equality and justice. We should not forget though that, in the first instance, for Aristotle, democracy is an aberration of the just political formation. For him, as for the early classical liberals, democracy meant a rule by the mob. The example of Socrates’ death is cited always as a support against this kind of political rule.
Aristotle tells us that “the sphere of politics is justice”, which requires endorsing the “common interest.” Political justice regulates “political association,” of free “people who have an equal share in ruling and being ruled” and concerns their relations according to law. Now, the question might be, how can we define this ‘common interest’ if the polis is inhabited by aristocrats, oligarchs and demos alike; when slaves, women, foreigners, and sometimes manual labourers and craftsmen are “excluded from office”, and, through this political gesture, barred from logos-political speech and reduced to mutos—not legible speech? We can dismiss Aristotle’s argument on the grounds that slavery was abolished a long time ago, or, to point out that, nowadays, women have political rights, not to mention moves to acknowledge rights of children. True, Aristotle’s model does not account for all if we take for granted present rhetoric of equality of all. Yet, as Hanson’s success illustrate, this equality does not always translates into the political relevance. I suggest that Hanson’s call for equality of us all is one of the reasons why her rhetoric is so persuasive. I want to use Aristotle’s theory to look at Hanson’s success and argue that her significance can be explained as a way to give the political voice to those who find themselves silenced in the present political landscape.
The utopia of postdemocracy is that of an uninterrupted count that presents the total of ‘public opinion’ as identical to the body of people. … It is the absolute removal of the sphere of appearance of the people. … [People] are always totally present and totally absent.
Some of the answers—to the question: Equality in what?—circle around the question of justice and equality. Their relationship is not simple. Aristotle claims that “justice is considered to mean equality”, and, according to him, there are two species of justice and equality: distributive (geometrical) and rectificatory (arithmetical).
Geometrical justice is concerned with the equality of distribution of offices. To distribute equally is to distribute according to certain merits. And here is the first problem: what constitutes merit is a contentious issue. For aristocrats, what counts is excellence, for oligarchs it is wealth or “noble birth”, while demos—ever since Solon abolished slavery for debt—having nothing else, claim the empty property of freedom as the basis of equality. Aristotle explains that equality is just not for all, but only for those who are equals, and, for the same reason, inequality is just, but only for those who are unequals, not for all. We can say that distributive justice have to do with harmonizing the input with the output, if we think in modern terms. Those, who have twenty per cent of shares in the polis, would receive twenty per cent of shares in the political domain. Equality is just if those who evenly have twenty per cent shares receive twenty per cent equivalent, say, of offices, and inequality is just when those who have unequal shares will receive unequal proportion according to their share. To put it differently, it would be unjust if those who have equal shares received unequal proportions and those who have unequal shares received equal proportions of responsibility in the political sphere. Hence, according to geometrical equality, distribution of offices would be proportionate to citizens’ merits. Since “justice is concerned with people,” it follows that “just distribution is one in which there is proportion between things distributed and those to whom they are distributed”.
The problem is, of course, that we all agree about “equality in the thing”, as Aristotle says, but we disagree about the question of equality in people. He suggests that people are very bad judges when considering their own cases. They tend to generalise their own particular circumstances, so, if they are superior in one situation, they tend to think that they are superior in everything. Thus, for example, oligarchs, since they are unmatched in wealth, think that they are above the rest in everything and can judge well in all possible cases. Similarly, demos think that if they are “equal in one respect, for instance, in free birth, they are equal all round”.
If we assume that rulers of the polis decide what counts as merits, in oligarchy, for example, it would be wealth. On this model, justice will be decided according to the geometrical or proportionate equality where wealth would be the criterion according to which we will distribute shares of political offices. Clearly, this distributive model of justice cannot work in democracy. Hence, as Aristotle explains, democracy is based on arithmetic equality. Arithmetic justice is not concerned with distributions of things according to merits, but involves “transactions between man and man”. This type of justice is not worried with the positions men occupy, that is, it does not matter who is just and who is unjust, both are consistently equal. What matters is the “distinctive character of injury” that “the judge tries to equalize.” So, when the one who is injured, suffers “loss”, while the one inflicting it, accumulates “gain”, arithmetical justice re-distributes losses and gains “by means of penalty” which equalises “intermediate between loss and gain”. To put it differently, arithmetic justice is “corrective justice,” because when “the suffering and the action [are] unequally distributed”, it corrects the imbalance and tries to achieve a new equilibrium between men.
Since the highest merit in democracy is considered freedom, the problem is twofold. First, all citizens are free qua being born in a certain city, say Athens. Now, since all are free they are all of equal value, which means, that not only demos can claim the attribute of being free, but also aristocrats and oligarchs. Therefore, people are composed of people, oligarchs and aristocrats. According to this kind of arithmetic then, demos are and are not the whole body of citizens. Consider oligarchs, their merit is wealth which belongs only to oligarchs, plus they can claim freedom as well. Similarly, aristocrats claim excellence as their distinctive quality plus freedom. By contrast, demos—having nothing else—claim freedom, but, as we have already observed, being free is the attribute also of aristocrats and oligarchs. Hence, Jacques Rancière argues, what people “bring to the community strictly speaking is contention.” On the one hand, their claim to represent all citizens according to arithmetic justice is clearly conflict-ridden. On the other, it is also incongruous with geometrical justice. According to geometrical justice, demos claim their share in the constitution according to their free birth. Yet, demos claim the property of freedom as theirs only, while all are free. According to both types of justice, then, geometrical and arithmetic, this appropriation of freedom as the attribute of demos only is unjust since all are free. For demos, then, since they have nothing else except freedom to claim, their demand to power can only be “all or nothing”. In each case, there is injustice involved, because, as Rancière says, “the people are always more or less than people”. So, what possibility is there to develop an acceptable constitution?
In order to form a peaceful “political association”, Aristotle says, the best system is when the three elements which constitute the polis are mixed: “just as impure food, when it is mixed with pure, makes the whole concoction more nutritious than a small amount of the pure would be”. Surely, “a city with a body of disfranchised citizens who are numerous and poor must necessarily be a city which is full of enemies”. To prevent this, we must allow them to participate in the “deliberative and judicial functions”, or society breaks up “into two factions, the rich and the poor, who live in the same state and are always plotting against each other”. In the last instance, then, the polis consists only of “two elements, where these elements are the rich and the poor”. As Rancière reminds us, the Ancients—in contrast to us moderns—always acknowledged that the essence of politics is the “struggle between the poor and the rich”. For Aristotle, since law defines political justice, law “exists for men between whom there is injustice”. Law, injustice and the political are co-dependent. Politics, then, is the art of balancing this injustice. Hence, in democracy, it is balancing of claims between rich and poor. For ancient Greeks, according to Rancière, since neither geometrical, nor arithmetic justice could resolve injustice involved in the political, the only way was to agree that there is a disagreement between citizens. When there are different claims being put forward as to what constitutes merit, dis-agreement between different parties in the city—a continuous attempt to reach a partial agreement qua agonistic debate—was the stuff of which ancient politics was made of.
To appreciate substantial difference between the ancient polis and our modern state that is supposedly characterised by the impartial management of political subjects, where all are equal in front of law and where, as the claim is, differences are supposedly settled peacefully, we need to consider this purported managerial efficiency. Experts, instead of allowing disagreements to be resolved through disputes, suspend them by proposing the best (according to experts) solution for the state. Grievances of some sections of community are taken out of their context and ‘managed’ by application of ‘neutral’ expertise, instead of allowing people to debate their felt injustice while trying to resolve it through common understanding. The space of dis-agreement is eliminated.
Why is this dis-agreement important? Why, according to Rancière, is it superior to the managerial approach that resolves all grievances by experts’ knowledge?
For Aristotle, there are no individuals outside of political associations. The polis “exists by nature” and “is prior to the individual”. A solitary person, “unable to share in the benefits of political association” can only be “either a beast or a god”. Since “man is born for citizenship,” he “is by nature a political animal.” It follows, then, that he alone has “language” to communicate to others of his kind what is “the just and the unjust”. Aristotle explains that all animals have a capacity to express their pleasure and pain by different sounds, but only man can say, for example, why slapping, although always painful, is sometimes just and sometimes unjust. Clearly, if a father strikes a son, while reprimanding him for his bad behaviour, it is painful but not unjust, while if a son bullies kids in the playground beating them up, his actions are unjust. According to Aristotle, this power of logos-speech to discern just and unjust is the presupposition of the political. Only those who can speak and present their concerns are political animals proper. Slaves can produce sound, but those are of no consequence in the political domain; similarly, noise produced by women, children and foreigners is only a mutter. For Aristotle, only citizens participate in the matters of the city and he acknowledges that, say, someone who is a citizen in democracy, is not necessarily so in oligarchy.
Rancière, using Aristotle’s theory, argues that disagreement is a “determined kind of speech situation”. We might speak to each other but not understand what is being said. This is not because our speech acts are muddy, concepts undefined, or because we simply want to deceive the other party. Rather, it is because the object of discussion is both there and not there. On the one hand, it is there when we speak about it, and yet, it is not there because we are not ‘seeing’ the same object. So, say, for most of the world today (or so the claim goes), Osama bin Laden is a terrorist, while for some Palestinians, he is a freedom fighter (as the claim goes). The object of discussion is the same—Osama bin Laden—but mis-understanding precludes our understanding. We are not discussing the same thing. On the other hand, we understand the object differently or do not even see that there is something to be discussed—there is not even an object to be discussed for some of the participants. Do refugees have rights to ask Australia to accept them? Are they refugees or just rich opportunistic queue jumpers? What do we understand by the word “rights”?
Our modern, representative democracy, in an effort to curb the hereditary rights of the feudal class, is based on the idea of human rights which we all have by virtue of being human. From the time of the French Revolution, we all are also supposedly equal. Hannah Arendt, discussing the modern phenomenon of stateless people argues that if we deprive people of all rights, people are essentially reduced to an animal state. Arendt argues that in our present world, the notion of human rights is empty. She says that when a human being is stripped of political rights, or flees her country, there is nothing left just bare life. Suddenly, there is nobody responsible for this bare ‘human’ life. So, for some, we are dealing with rich, potentially terrorist vagrants wanting to take advantage of our easy and comfortable lifestyle; for others, they are frightened human beings caught in a tug of war without any protection. Dis-agreement revolves around a dilemma concerning the object of our conversation. How can we resolve this dis-agreement, if there is one? In this case, the state’s managerial approach had decided that boat people are queue jumpers. No other views are allowed in the sphere of political decision-making.
There is also another issue worth considering. We can only practice or exercise political speech if we have political rights. So, on the one hand, boat people are a priori reduced to silence. The recent case of the Tampa can serve as an example. People without citizenship—that is political rights guaranteed by a state—are deprived not only of rights but also of speech. The refugees on the Tampa become mute ‘human cargo’ shifted according to the whims of the present political leaders acting in proportion to re-election goals rather than humanitarian considerations. The equality of all is disclosed as a shamble. The aporia of this notion is visible and yet hidden. The human cargo cannot speak. On the other hand, a citizen’s right to the logos-political speech is also very elusive. The notion of logos-speech—as an attribute of each political participant—has lost its primary function in our modern state. We vote representatives who speak and manage for us the political. The idea of representation means that our representatives speak for us and without us, and the notion of dis-agreement is reduced to managerial efficiency. Everything is condensed to be a case of better or worse resolutions—not yet mastered but soon. Grievances are wiped out for the next session of experts. Our political function is reduced to the time of an election, where choices in our two parties system are practically non-existent. Spaces where we can learn about others, discuss different points of view and argue for and against do not exist. The only time we can supposedly use our speech is during an election. Yet, once again, this only possibility of critique is reduced to numbers. Its count is managed through calculus: all opinions are dissolved into arithmetical count of for and against. Given that in the final outcome, there is an option between two parties only, any yes and no become yes for an exclusion of queue jumpers, whose murmur is not even heard.
To illustrate my claim, I want to argue that the One Nation Party offers a condition of possibility for the opening up of the political. Clearly, we need to consider a different example, because the case of the Tampa only makes clear that the One Nation Party does not have a priority in the racist stakes. Today, the forerunner is John Howard and the Liberal Party, supported by the Labour Party. No wonder that today, the leader of the One Nation Party in Western Australia, Graeme Campbell, is claiming that there is no big difference between the One Nation Party’s policies and the Liberal Party. It seems to me that it was precisely this difference from the two parties agendas that gave votes to Hanson’s politics. I suggest that voters’ endorsement was based on her ‘naïve’ economic allegations to question the wisdom of globalisation and her call for government to account for all citizens equally.
Rancière explains that politics exists only because there are people who are not accounted for—“because those who have no right to be counted as speaking beings make themselves of some account”. Only on rare occasions, the mutter of the disenfranchised breaks through to remind us of an unresolved tension. The problem is that it is ‘heard’ only if it becomes political speech-logos, when it enters politics. It is ‘heard’ only if the object of discussion becomes part of the political space.
It is for this reason that Rancière argues that politics cannot be reduced to managing people according to the latest knowledge of experts, that is, to police, using this term in its original meaning, that is Polizeiwissenschaft—“at once an art of government and a method for analysis of a population living on a territory”. Opinion polls are one such device; it supposedly accounts for people, just to reduce them to numbers to be managed. Dis-agreement can come to the fore only when those who suddenly understand that their ‘world’ is not accounted for in the political agenda of the present state policies form a community—the silent ones. Dis-agreement will take place when those, who were until now, silent ones, become conscious that “there is something ‘between’ them and those who do not acknowledge them as speaking beings who count”. It is time when people realise that “‘right’ is not the illusory attribute of an ideal subject”. On the contrary, the quarrel over rights is the “arguing of a wrong” they suffer. Rancière uses the example of Jeanne Deroin to show how the mutos—the silent mutter—of the disenfranchised can become the logos, political speech, thus calling into question the logic of the political aporia. In 1849, Deroin portrayed herself “as a candidate for a legislative election in which she [could not] run”. By this actual political gesture, she disclosed the emptiness of “universal suffrage” whereby women were not included.
By the very same logic, Hanson by appropriating the logos-political speech becomes a representative of silent others, excluded from the statistical machinery of the modern state, because, as she says, “time is running out”. Her mockery of political appearances is giving voice to that which was until now inexpressible. As she says,
I come here not as a polished politician but as a woman who has had her fair share of life’s knocks. My view on issues is based on commonsense, and my experience as a mother of four children, as a sole parent, and as a businesswoman running a fish and chip shop. … I consider myself just an ordinary Australian who wants to keep this great country strong and independent, and my greatest desire is to see all Australians treat each other as equals as we travel together towards the new century.
Thus, Hanson’s call for equality of all is the very impossibility of the political, as we have already seen. Yet, her call also brings forward those who cannot find a voice in the present political landscape.
What can we make of her call against “this nation … being divided into black and white”, or her observation that “a social problem is one that concerns the way in which people live together in one society”? I suggest that we can read in her idiosyncratic pronouncements not only racist concerns, which clearly are there, but also concerns about the economic management of the state. The word is equality, equality of all to be treated equally by the state, because, as she quotes, “if you give a man a fish you feed him for a day. If you teach him how to fish you feed him for a lifetime.” She is calling for a role of the state which is not a neutral umpire but a carer. She is concerned about the effects of globalisation in our lives, when she says,
There is light at the end of the tunnel and there are solutions. If this government wants to be fair dinkum, then it must stop kowtowing to financial markets, international organisations, world bankers, investment companies and big business people. The Howard government must become visionary and be prepared to act, even at the risk of making mistakes.
What is Hanson’s advice? She says, “I may be only ‘a fish and chip shop lady’, but some of these economists need to get their heads out of the textbooks and get a job in the real world. I would not even let one of them handle my grocery shopping.”
During the WA election night, Wilson Tuckey was trying hard to reduce to silence this self-acknowledged former fish and chips proprietor. The television crew also ridiculed her because she had missed the entry into the television studio. Yet, the number of votes that the One Nation Party received was considerable. Is it, then, shrewd to dismiss all of the voters as red necks? Hanson stands for that no doubt, but she also expresses the worries of many Australians, who despite statistics of better living, cannot see it in their everyday lives. As Hanson says,
The government must be imaginative enough to become involved, in the short-term at least, in job creating projects that will help establish the foundation for a resurgence of national development and enterprise. Such schemes would be the building of the Alice Springs to Darwin railway line, new roads and ports, water conservation, reafforestation and other sensible and practical environmental projects.
Her call is for the state to account for the misery of its citizens when she asks for “reduced tariffs on foreign goods that compete with local products” because they “seem only to cost Australians their jobs”. For Hanson, the priority is to “look after our own before lining the pockets of overseas countries and investors at the expense of our living standards and future”. It is this aspect of her agenda that is appealing to many, her different approach to the economical management of the state that is in opposition to the two parties system which, in the last instance, is only one on offer—globalisation.
Hanson appropriated the logos by her entry into the political arena. Thus to see the One Nation Party’s electors as an eruption of dark passions of a community which we need to master by channelling them into already available political spaces is to miss the point. Once again, to dismiss this ‘unpopular’ opposition—which brings into open the aporia of our political categories—is to silence this emerging dis-agreement with the two parties system that does not take into account the silenced many. As Aristotle says, only Zoon Politicon possesses logos, so, perhaps, we should pay attention to Pauline Hanson’s logos, to her “call for equality for all Australians”, instead of dismissing her speech as racist and, once again, reducing those who vote for her to silence.
There are many who dis-agree with the role of the state as a neutral referee enabling that non-existent invisible hand of the market to rule our lives (or ruin, as Hanson sees it). They want to see the state to support its citizens. The public outcry at the collapse of Ansett is only one expression of this sentiment; the support for the One Nation Party might be another.
Contrary to jubilatory speeches by some re-elected members of the Coalition, I suggest that the last Australian federal election showed that Hanson’s One Nation Party did not lose because Liberal and Labor Parties appropriated her racist stance. By contrast, I suspect that she had lost because she let herself to be reduced to this racist place. Hanson has ‘forgotten’ to underscore much more important notion—the equality of all. Yet, her ‘official’ Web site did maintain this aspect of her policies. Pity, it did not get to the voting public.
There are perhaps two lessons to be learnt here: the reach of the Internet is not as wide as many would want us to believe. Indeed, it is still the case that the power of the traditional media is stronger.
A last observation, perhaps, might be that this last election unambiguously confirmed how easy it is to turned any marginal group into the mute cargo and delete them from the political space. The invisible presence, or, rather, the visible lack of Aboriginal issues in the political is just the latest manifestation of the mutos.
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 Hanson (1996)
 According to some writers, the idea of liberal democracy is a misnomer, since the notion of democracy is in opposition to the idea of liberalism in its classical meaning. See, for example, Bobbio, 1990: 1. “The existence at the present time of regimes referred to as ‘liberal-democratic’ or ‘democratic-liberal’ suggests that liberalism and democracy are interdependent. In reality, however, the relationship between the two is very complex and by no means one of continuity or identity. In the commonest usage of the two terms, ‘liberalism’ denotes a particular conception of the state, in which the state is conceived as having limited powers and functions, and thus as differing from both the absolute state and from what is nowadays called the social state; ‘democracy’ denotes one of many possible modes of government, namely that in which power is not vested in a single individual or in the hands of a few, but lies with everybody or rather with the majority” (ibid.: 1).
 Schapiro, 1958: 90
 Ibid.: 90
 Rousseau, 1968 : III, 15, 141
 Ibid.: III, 15, 141
 Ibid.: III, 15, 141
 Manent, 1994: xv
 Ibid.: xv
 Lefort, 1988: 276
 Ibid.: 276
 Ibid.: 276
 Schapiro, 1958: 90
 Rousseau, 1968 : III, 15, 141
 For an extended discussion, see Učník, 2001.
 See Aristotle, 1995: 1282b14-1283a3 [112–3].
 Ibid.: 1282b 
 “The virtue of justice belongs to the city; for justice is an ordering of the political association, and the virtue of justice consists in the determination of what is just” ibid.: 1253a 
 Aristotle, 1954: 1134b 
 Aristotle, 1995: 1277a 
 Rancière, 1999: 103
 Aristotle, 1995: 1280a 
 Aristotle, 1954: 1131a 
 Aristotle, 1995: 1280a 
 Ibid.: 1280a 
 “There is general agreement what constitute equality in the thing but disagreement about what constitutes it in people” (ibid.: 1280a ).
 Ibid.: 1280a [103–4]
 Aristotle, 1954: 1134a 
 Ibid.: 1134a . See also ibid.: 1130b–1131a : “one [kind of justice] is that which plays a rectifying part in transactions between man and man. Of this there are two divisions; of transactions (1) some are voluntary and (2) others involuntary …”. Arithmetic justice has two forms: voluntary (“such transactions as sale, purchase, loan for consumption, pledging, loan for use, depositing, letting (they are called voluntary because the origin of these transactions is voluntary” (ibid.: 1131a , stress in the original) and involuntary. Involuntary is further divided into clandestine (“clandestine, such as theft, adultery, poisoning, procuring, enticement of slaves, assassination, false witness” (ibid.: 1131a ) and violent (“such as assault, imprisonment, murder, robbery with violence, mutilation, abuse, insult” (ibid.: 1131a ).
 Ibid.: 1131b 
 Ibid.: 1132a 
 Ibid.: 1132a 
 Ibid.: 1132a 
 Rancière, 1999: 9
 “which is manifested in distributions of honour or money or the other things that fall to be divided among those who have a share in the constitution” (Aristotle, 1954: 1130b-).
 “for in these it is possible for one man to have a share either unequal or equal to that of another” (ibid.: 1130b-).
 Rancière, 1999: 9
 Ibid.: 10
 Aristotle, 1995: 1252a 
 Ibid.: 1281b [109-10]
 Ibid.: 1281b 
 Ibid.: 1281b 
 Plato, 1955: VIII, 551 . Lindsay’s translation is slightly different, “Such a city must of necessity be not one but two—the city of the rich and the city of the poor—rich and poor dwelling within the same walls, and always conspiring against each other” Plato, 1935: VIII, 551 
 Aristotle, 1995: 1294a 
 Rancière, 1999: 11
 Aristotle, 1954: 1134a 
 Aristotle, 1995: 1253a 
 Ibid.: 1253a 
 Aristotle, 1954: 1097b . In D. P. Chase translation: “for man is by nature adapted to a social existence” (Aristotle, 1911: 1097b [10–11]).
 Aristotle, 1995: 1253a . “It is evident that the city belongs to the class of things that exist by nature, and that man is by nature a political animal. He who is without a city, by reason of his own nature and not of some accident, is either a poor sort of being, or a being higher than man”.
 Ibid.: 1253a 
 For an extended discussion of this point, see Rancière, 1999, especially “Chapter 1-The Beginning of Politics”.
 Aristotle, 1995: 1274b 
 Rancière, 1999: x
 Arendt, 1945c; Arendt, 1945a; Arendt, 1998 . See also Agamben, 1998
 Rancière, 1999: 27
 Foucault, 1999 : 151. For an explanation of “police” as state managed by experts, see also Rancière, 1999; Rancière, 1995; Agamben, 2000.
 Rancière, 1999: 27. “Politics exists because those who have no right to be counted as speaking beings make themselves of some account, setting up a community by the fact of placing in common a wrong that is nothing more than this very confrontation, the contradiction of two worlds in a single world: the world where they are and the world where they are not, the world where there is something ‘between’ them and those who do not acknowledge them as speaking beings who count and the world where there is nothing”.
 Ibid.: 89
 Ibid.: 89
 Ibid.: 41
 Ibid.: 41–2
 Hanson (1996)