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Carlos Julião (b. Turin, d. Lisbon), Afro-Brazilian King and Queen, ca. 1775. Courtesy of the National Library of Brazil.

Where state sovereignty as theology would have subjected groups accept their condition with its attending violence and suffering, the micro sovereignty I propose here – not merely as a futuristic idea, but more as a reflection on how subjected groups have dealt with subjection – invites us not to accept that violence and suffering, but to find creative ways out of it through the cracks of Empire.

It is worshipped like a god, and as little understood.

It is the cause of untold strife and bloodshed. Genocide is perpetuated in its sacred name.

It is at once a source of power and power’s abuse, of order and of anarchy. It can be noble and it can be shameful.

It is sovereignty.

Alan Cranston

Is sovereignty a foreclosed concept or an open one? The multitude of sovereignties (divine, popular, absolute, Indigenous, etc.) points to the latter.

The first sovereignty human beings seem to have recognized is that of the divine, in both polytheistic as well as monotheistic societies. From this flowed the sovereignty of the law, especially in Judaism. This sovereignty of the law was carried over to Christianity (see Pink [1930] 2016; and Paul’s epistles in particular), where, starting with Constantine the Great, it gave the emperor/king-as-law-giver-on-earth divine rights (Dei gratia), as if the monarch were God’s proxy on earth. But the concept of absolute sovereignty (absolutism) would not emerge until the seventeenth century with Jean Bodin, whose sovereign prince is only accountable to God. Since Carl Schmitt, sovereignty is the theopolitical concept par excellence (see, for example, Derrida [2002] 2005; Cranston 2004). 

Popular sovereignty was born in the polytheistic societies of the Mediterranean (Aristotle [4th cent. BCE] 2020; Bartelson 1995). Under this regime, laws did not emanate from a divine source but from the will of a male majority. It is no surprise then that this was the model chosen by the Framers of the US Constitution, with the addition of race as another exclusionary factor (on top of gender and class, though as Benjamin Isaac notes, it can be said the Greeks excluded on the basis of race too).

These are, in nuce, the main ideas about macro-national sovereignty. There are, however, other micro-national sovereignties that exist within macro-national sovereignty. Indigenous sovereignty is a prime example. When the Spanish found macro-national sovereign states in Mexico and Peru, they realized that in order to govern the inhabitants of those states, Indigenous elites had to retain some form of sovereignty, even if symbolic. Thus, for the first years of Spanish colonization in Mexico and Peru, there was a Spanish governor and an Indigenous “ruler,” hand-picked by the Spaniards. But the Spanish quickly abandoned this system. Instead, they recognized communal Indigenous sovereignty, where caciques inherited their leadership roles through patrilineal succession.  

But what did this sovereignty mean to Indigenous groups and individuals? A great deal. Indigenous sovereignty expanded the idea of sovereignty in Spanish America. Indigenous caciques and commoners made claims to certain rights and privileges, such as humane treatment, on the basis of sovereignty. Because the Spanish did not always oblige, Spain’s presumed right to govern Indigenous lands and peoples was contested throughout the colonial period (Adorno 2008), culminating in independence, but an independence whose principal beneficiaries would be the America-born white creole elite.

There is another sovereignty that is usually not recognized in these debates: Black sovereignty. Black sovereignty in colonial Latin America was of two kinds. On the one hand, there was the sovereignty of maroon communities, which was occasionally recognized as a micro-national sovereignty within the macro-national sovereignty of the Iberian empires (Price 1979). This was a clearly defined sovereignty that, although occasionally recognized by Iberian imperial powers—when maroon communities proved too strong against colonial attempts to annihilate them— was in direct opposition, and therefore seen as an existential threat to imperial power.

Another subtler, less obvious Black sovereignty was also present. As Pablo Miguel Rivera Silva argues in Urban Slavery in Colonial Mexico, most Blacks enmeshed in urban communities were not usually inclined to join maroon communities. Instead, they often chose to form or join Catholic confraternities. These confraternities functioned as micro-nations, providing medical care, other sorts of aid, burials, and a space of sociability, thus permitting the members (who could come from distinct ethnic and geographical backgrounds) to form pan- or trans-ethnic bonds and identities. Black confraternities thus embodied a form of sovereignty comparable to Indigenous sovereignty, insofar as it was accepted within the same body politic, while maroon communities were at the margins of society.    

Sovereignty, in the final analysis, is performance. A sovereignty must be expressed. Black Catholic brotherhoods expressed their sovereignty by participating in public festivals “with their king and queen,” whom they elected and crowned annually (Valerio 2022). Thus, they developed a discursive sovereignty. I define this discursive sovereignty as that which we allow ourselves to tell ourselves and others about ourselves – in other words, articulations about a group’s corporate self, fashioned by the group and intended to enhance the group’s and outsiders’ understanding of the group. These articulations are often bold statements that defy outsiders’ opinions. The group can also surprise itself by articulating a sovereignty it has not been granted. Through their performance “with their king and queen,” Afro-Latin American confraternities expressed their communal sovereignty in a poignantly mimetic manner.

Joy is part of micro sovereignty. As understood by Spinoza, “joy is not an emotion at all but an increase in one’s power to affect and be affected. It is the capacity to do and feel more. As such, it is connected to creativity and the embrace of uncertainty” (Montgomery and bergman 2017). As the critical thinkers Nick Montgomery and carla bergman have observed: “Bubbling up in the cracks of Empire, joy remakes people through combat with forces of subjection. Joy is a desubjectifying process, an unfixing, an intensification of life itself” (59-60; emphasis in the original). Subjected people have always used the “cracks of Empire” to build sovereignty, and through that, sovereign joy as a creative force that sustains them through the subjection.

I have focused on one example of Black sovereignty given my familiarity with it. But as Kyle T. Mays discusses in An Afro-Indigenous History of the United States, there are other instances of Black and Indigenous sovereignty to be explored. The aim of this entry has been to disrupt the macro-national focus on sovereignty. This runs counter to what Schmitt and those after him have proposed. My approach invites us to think about the joy of sovereignty and the sovereignty of joy to move subjected groups to creative, empowering action. Where state sovereignty as theology would have subjected groups accept their condition with its attending violence and suffering, the micro sovereignty I propose here – not merely as a futuristic idea, but more as a reflection on how subjected groups have dealt with subjection – invites us not to accept that violence and suffering, but to find creative ways out of it through the cracks of Empire. This is not an acceptance of the status quo, but a challenge to it on our own terms.

Further Reading

Aristotle. Politics, trans. Richard Kraut. Oxford: Oxford University Press, [4th cent. BCE] 2020. 4 vols.

All associations are formed with the aim of achieving some good. The Greek city-state, or polis, is the most general association in the Greek world, containing all other associations, such as families and trade associations. As such, the city-state must aim at achieving the highest good. Aristotle concludes that “man is a political animal”: we can only achieve the good life by living as citizens in a state. In discussing the economic relations that hold within a city-state, Aristotle defends the institution of private property, condemns excessive capitalism, and notoriously defends the institution of slavery.

Bodin, Jean. Six Books of the Commonwealth, trans. Michael Tooley. Lexington: Seven Treasures Publications, [1576] 2009. 

Bodin was primarily responsible for introducing the seductive but erroneous notion that sovereignty is indivisible, that the entire power of the state had to be vested in a single individual or group. This thesis, combined with the prevailing crisis of authority during the French religious wars, led Bodin to a systematically absolutist interpretation of the French and other European monarchies.

Derrida, Jacques. Rogues: Two Essays on Reason, trans. Pascale-Anne Brault and Michael Naas. Stanford: Stanford University Press, [2002] 2005. 

Derrida examines the history of the concept of sovereignty, engaging with the work of Bodin, Hobbes, Rousseau, Schmitt, and others. Against this background, he delineates his understanding of “democracy to come,” which he distinguishes clearly from any kind of regulating ideal or teleological horizon. The idea that democracy will always remain in the future is not a temporal notion. Rather, the phrase would name the coming of the unforeseeable other, the structure of an event beyond calculation and program. 

Schmitt, Carl. Political Theology: Four Chapters on the Concept of Sovereignty, trans. George Schwab. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, [1922] 2005. 

Focusing on the relationships among political leadership, the norms of the legal order, and the state of political emergency, Schmitt argues in Political Theology that legal order ultimately rests upon the decisions of the sovereign. According to Schmitt, only the sovereign can meet the needs of an “exceptional” time and transcend legal order so that order can then be reestablished. Convinced that the state is governed by the ever-present possibility of conflict, Schmitt theorizes that the state exists only to maintain its integrity in order to ensure order and stability. 


Native survivance, in [Gerald] Vizenor’s parlance, is a combination of the words “survival” and “resistance,” and it “creates a sense of presence.” According to him, “The suffix -ance designates a condition, a nature, or a quality that is more than a mere description of survival.”


Where relationality is most productive in critical projects is where it transcends its projects of critique and explores the possibilities—ethical, political, and theological—of its account of subjectivity and community.


Facing the violence of contemporary terror, many intellectuals have spoken in our present times about a return of political theology and religion in its violent forms. Attention to the concept of martyrdom has reappeared due to an increasing interest in religious conflicts.


In autopoiesis, there is no separation between what we do and the particular way in which the world appears to us.


Where state sovereignty as theology would have subjected groups accept their condition with its attending violence and suffering, the micro sovereignty I propose here – not merely as a futuristic idea, but more as a reflection on how subjected groups have dealt with subjection – invites us not to accept that violence and suffering, but to find creative ways out of it through the cracks of Empire.


Abolition is a process of imagining alternatives to the settler colonial, carceral present; it requires modes of kinship and care to replace prisons and policing.

Gratuitous Violence

Signifying a critical homology between the fields of Black studies and political theology, gratuitous violence is an important keyword for interrogating how religio-political concepts can afford unique insights into issues of slavery, race, and the human which continue to inform our world today.  


Asian American literary criticism’s analysis of contemporary orientalisms centered around the figuration of Asian subjectivities reminds political theologians that unconscious (white) fear and fascination with the Orient still guides political and theoretical engagement with the Asian “other.”


Thing as concept can be helpful to elucidate the specific yet ambiguous interaction of the religious and the political. Using recent thingly theoretical work within these two spheres, with an emphasis on body and shape, I will suggest ways through which thing (and things and thingness) both clarifies and challenges that interaction.


Diaspora might be a problem for political progressives for the very reason that it is so alluring. Diaspora promises both freedom and connection: freedom from national borders or the essentialisms of race and language, connection between people who affirm shared memory and heritage.
But heritage is never really free.


If there is one thing that can be said about blackness, it is this: blackness is unruly.

Black Reason

Black reason is propelled by a fantastic imaginary, a changeling animus that aggregates and transmogrifies the desires and fears of whiteness.

Racial Capitalism

The historical and theoretical relationships between race and capitalism are internally contested and in need of further exploration from theologians and scholars of religion.


Sometimes referred to as “population control,” other times “better breeding,” eugenics has been seen as a religious solution to social ills, and sometimes a new religion unto itself.


Gilroy’s “planetary humanism” contributes to political theology by offering more than a critique: in his work, humanism is a starting point, a concept to guide multicultural political projects today.


Official responses to the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic have encouraged us to understand risk in individual terms. They’re wrong: risk is all about interdependence.

Food Sovereignty

Food sovereignty represents a refusal of a globally commodified food system in favor of systems and institutions that support self-sufficient communities.


Doxa is a term used in sociology to contend with belief and orthodoxy without reducing either to behavior or cognition. It explores disposition and embodied belief—the gut sense of the world which is acquired through practice rather than discourse.

Settler Colonialism

I propose Decolonial Settler Theology as a contextual political theology that is uniquely the task of the settler, who must face their own complicity in narratives of ongoing colonization and aim at their undoing.


In an era during which police institutions and ideology are so fundamental to our cultural common-sense, how can theologians and critical theorists challenge this form of power?


This essay takes taboo as a critical term to trace the history of our modern present and as a conceptual companion with which to think through the complex entanglement of the ethical, the theological, and the political.


What is still nascent… is an explicit conversation between political theology and critical theories of affect, particularly in a way that might contribute to constructive projects. The sort of political theology that might emerge from such collaboration would consider how affective regimes intersect with theological constructions or religious performances.


While kinship has traditionally held a vibrant conceptual life in anthropological inquiry, more recent studies on kinship as a form of spiritual relationality have opened up a new space of interdisciplinary exploration for political theology.


The modern state form itself is inextricable from the commandement, not just as an emblem for sovereignty in Schmitt’s sense, but also because the exemplary political form of modernity, the nation-state, has racist and exclusionary tendencies that can be understood as political-theological transfers of monotheistic principles.


That structural violence is always also relational, proximate, and personal is, perhaps, one of the core insights that the concept of mourning brings to the fore for political theology.


The conversation about nature’s personhood and rights is always political, often legal, and sometimes theological. Most importantly, it is a localized conversation about the boundaries of a given community – who is part of the community and who isn’t.


For political theology, we might find ourselves compelled by practices that seek to connect us with our ecologies, our communities, and our relations with ourselves – in ways that are more about humility and provisionality than finding cures or solutions.


Queer, I think, should remain different, differing, dissonant, and plural. It shouldn’t contract or calcify into anything singular or solid.


If theorizations of care are to more directly address the current “crisis of care,” we need not only to prioritize the kinds of embodied, particularized care that care ethics has highlighted in the past, but to explore a wider range of caring relationships and their diverse structures.


A preliminary question for political theology is how to understand the meaning and significance of matter. The response to this question shapes how a political theology does or doesn’t engage political economy and theological tradition.


The triangulation of money, sovereignty, and divinity is a good point of entry to study the mutual constitution of theological and political concepts and the questions about ultimate value and social form that they raise.


Refusal is a strong current resisting the structure of settler colonialism. It crashes, churns, and erodes the death-dealing dams of settler knowing. Its path turns away from the settler’s gaze.


Seva lends itself to easy appropriation across political and religious contexts, while also furnishing mutually intelligible tropes of service, welfare, and social betterment.


Political theology intimately understands that given reality teems with forms of life that remain opaque to us.


Spillers, Cheng, and Halberstam provide us with tools to approach the histories of violence, economics, relationships, desires, and contestation that infuse our experiences with flesh in its multiplicity. Flesh is never neutral.


It is not always possible (or advisable) to separate the “political” from the “religious” or “cultural” in Indigenous contexts. Indeed, all of these are concepts developed by outsiders to describe Indigenous life. Instead, Indigeneity invites scholars of political theology and related fields to consider the relationships between these threads of cultural life.


As we watch the illusion that was Man fall apart, we also see these more-than-human worlds that Man called “animal” disrupting and revealing the cracks and fractures in his own divine intentions.

Temporality I: History

William Apess, like Walter Benjamin a century later, sought to shift the paradigms of society with history and theology as orienting poles for colonial critique. Anticipating Benjamin, Apess looked to those who had been wrecked by the advance of colonialism as the grounding site for historical and political theological inquiry.

Temporality II: Futurity

Both Benjamin and Apess discern that historical narratives are imbricated with notions of futurity, that is, which bodies and polities are allowed to inhabit and thrive within the temporality in which the “not yet” and the “always already” co-constitute each other.


In this short essay, written from my perspective as a Jewish feminist, I draw together a plurality of engagements with natality to engender new conversations in political theology.

Critical Race Theory

CRT is a framework or an approach to understanding the way racism is foundational to systems of judicial, political, social, cultural, religious, and theological power.


[S]ituating demonology more fully in its religious and theological contexts furnishes resources that not only nuance understandings of movements for whom demonization is central, but also recontextualize discussions of core political theological concepts, including sovereignty, power, economy, subjectivity, and freedom.


From Myanmar to Mariupol, from the streets of Memphis to the waves and winds of the Mediterranean Sea: resistance to violence takes many forms. So does political protest against precarity. At which point does the unavoidable vulnerability of the living condition come to expression as political agency? Can such precarious politics constitute or configure an alternative community?

Hunger Strike

“Instead of neatly separating the forms of resistance to biosovereignty into life-affirming struggles and necroresistance and mapping them (and life and death) onto the reform/revolt dichotomy, I suggest that we conceive life and death as relational rather than oppositional categories. For every differentiation and intensification of death creates new possibilities of life; and every differentiation and intensification of life entails experiences of “death” that cannot be reduced to the power of one’s death.”

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