Abject Joy

No extant text gives so vivid a glimpse into the experience of an ancient prisoner as Paul’s letter to the Philippians. As a letter from prison, however, it is not what one would expect. For although it is true that Paul, like some other ancient prisoners, speaks in Philippians of his yearning for death, what he expresses most conspicuously is contentment and even joy. Setting aside pious banalities that contrast true joy with happiness, and leaving behind too heroic depictions that take their cue from Acts, Abject Joy offers a reading of Paul’s letter as both a means and an artifact of his provisional attempt to make do. By outlining the uses of punitive custody in the administration of Rome’s eastern provinces and describing prison’s complex place in the social and moral imagination of the Roman world, this book provides a richly drawn account of Paul’s non-elite social context, where bodies and their affects were shaped by acute contingency and habitual susceptibility to violent subjugation. Informed by recent work in the history of emotions, and with comparison to modern prison writing and ethnography provoking new questions and insights, Abject Joy describes Paul’s letter as an affective technology, wielded at once on Paul himself and on his addressees, that works to strengthen his grasp on the very joy he names.

I Have Learned to Be Content

Chapter 4 takes up Paul’s assertion in Philippians 4:11 that he is satisfied (autarkēs) even in prison. Although often read in relation to Stoic ideals, Paul’s claim in fact reflects a much more broadly attested moral ideal; philosophical discourses of autarky are not its source but coincidental products. Comparison with modern prison writing and ethnography invites a redescription of Paul’s rhetoric as an affective practice of survivalist dissent. As with other prisoners, for Paul to assert that he is satisfied in prison is to exercise his residual agency and thus perform an unabjected self, even as the hard somatic fact of his deprivation leaves him eager for relief and dependent on his Philippian addressees.

Blueprint for interracial solidarity: C. L. R. James’s Mariners, Renegades, and Castaways as prison writing

Trinidadian thinker and activist C. L. R. James penned a criticism of Herman Melville’s work, Mariners, Renegades, and Castaways, while incarcerated in Ellis Island, New York, in the early 1950s. I investigate how the contradictory claims on labour and race, literary analysis, and communism in the last chapter come from what I call the prison–detention continuum: a historical continuity allocated to prison and detention facilities despite an overt difference between the two. The distinction survived so as to maintain racial classification and labour force from the times of slavery and plantation to the Cold War era. The physical statuses of those incarcerated were insecure when the McCarran–Walter Act legalized ideological surveillance and accelerated racism inside and outside the carceral spaces. In his book on Melville, James clarifies the difference between prison and detention by emphasizing labour’s role in Ellis Island. He situates his personal experience of maltreatment of his ulcer as a structural issue, produced by the way the officers obey their authorities without any principle. To foreground the docile individuals in the totalitarian society, he compares the inmates and officers on Ellis Island with the shipmates of the Pequod in Moby Dick. Furthermore, he regards that if labour is racialized, it will necessarily culminate in revolt. I argue that James’s reference to the Korean War POWs on Koje Island prefigures an interracial solidarity that becomes visible after the Bandung Conference of 1955.