Thinking with Rancière: the dissensual politics of Extinction Rebellion

By Alex Scott

This short piece centres on themes explored in a current research project which explores to what extent the Extinction Rebellion social movement can be conceived as what Jacques Rancière calls an ‘properly political moment’. The blog post will briefly summarise some of Rancière’s key ideas before considering how useful a Rancièrian framing is in order to understand the political potential of the protest tactics used in this social movement.  

Since its conception in 2018, the social movement known as “Extinction Rebellion” has carried out non-violent direct action in a bid to force global governments to properly address the emergent climate crisis. Extinction Rebellion (XR) has three main demands for the UK government: firstly, that governments ‘tell the truth’ by declaring a climate emergency (which has been met in the UK); secondly, that the government ‘act now’ by trying to achieve net-zero carbon emissions by 2025; thirdly, that governments go ‘beyond politics’ and create citizens’ assemblies to aid in the changes that need to be made. Through the occupation of various sites in London – and subsequently over 60 cities worldwide – the movement has forced governments to respond to the climate crisis, with varying levels of success. While the UK has indeed declared a climate emergency, there has been no sign of a Citizens’ Assembly[1] and the UK government are currently only aiming to be carbon neutral by 2050. Saying this, achieving carbon neutrality significantly earlier than 2050 is thought to be implausible, a new report modelling shifts in transport and energy infrastructure has found[2]. Whether their demands are realistically achievable or not, the movement’s sustained action continues to disrupt urban spaces and force climate issues into the collective consciousness as well as political agendas. It is these acts of subversion and unsettling that bring questions of political theory to the fore, which I examine through the work of philosopher Jacques Rancière (1940-).

Jacques Rancière is a French political philosopher whose thought centres on concepts of disagreement, equality and post-democracy. Of particular relevance for thinking about the development of a social movement is Rancière’s work on ‘dissensus’. For Rancière, dissensus is a wholly equalitarian event that involves the action of revealing spaces and people which are not accounted for in the ‘distribution of the sensible’ (Rancière, 2010). This distribution of the sensible is a social ordering that marks who is separated and who is excluded from political matters, and what political affairs are made visible for public debate. As such, dissensual practices aim to subvert any reduction of politics to a purely governmental affair and of the people to a homogenous population. Indeed, dissensual politics becomes the incendiary, radical event that challenges this hierarchical order by forging spaces of dissensus that are not accounted for by a society characterised by consensual politics; in short, dissensus arises when “the natural order of domination is interrupted by the institution of a part of those who have no part” (Rancière, 1998, p.11). Individuals who have been previously excluded by the distribution of the sensible create new spaces of dissensus that underline and expose the deep-rooted incongruencies between the rigidity of the distribution of the sensible and egalitarian society.

Rebel for Life blog post imageImage 1: XR protestors in London holding a “Rebel For Life” banner. Wikimedia Commons. Published 23 November 2018. Accessed 03 August 2020.

It is Rancière’s eighth thesis on politics in his 2010 work Dissensus: On Politics and Aesthetics that perhaps best summarises the mission statement for his brand of politics:

“The essential work of politics is the configuration of its own space. It is to make the world of its subjects and its operations seen. The essence of politics is the manifestation of dissensus as the presence of two worlds in one.” (Rancière, 2010, p.37)

A Rancièrian politics, then, is one that opens up new spaces, possibilities and conversations – something that the Extinction Rebellion movement has tried to achieve in its short lifespan to date. The following section of this blog post turns to the various protest tactics deployed during the movement’s protest actions to evaluate the success of these dissensual events in instigating a political intervention in Rancière’s terms.

 The physical occupation of space and the disruption to the usual everyday patterns of urban life that this entails is one of the key ways in which XR has actualised a dissensual politics, finding novel ways to extend our collective ways of being in these spaces. By blockading streets and climbing on top of tube trains XR has incited unavoidable conversations about the environmental impact of contemporary urban infrastructure. Furthermore, it has widened our field of view when it comes to thinking about how we interact with our urban spaces. Indeed, “politics is effective whenever it does manage to bring about a global change in the perception of social space” (Corcoran, 2010, p.6). Through the occupation of bustling locations such as Piccadilly Circus and Waterloo Bridge, the vibrant, diverse groups of people and their protest art have expanded our collective perception of these spaces and in doing so have generated novel political pockets in cities around the world. Rancière labels these spaces of politics as ‘in-between spaces’, arguing that “political being-together is being-between” (Rancière, 1998, p.137). Through the construction of a number of these ‘in-between spaces’, XR has demonstrated the political potency of protest events to create a stage that includes the government and other institutions that have typically contributed to a culture of consensual politics. By deploying a range of protest tactics, the government has been forced to join the conversation, whether they like it or not.

One of the key protest tactics that Extinction Rebellion uses to achieve its demands is mass arrest. Learning from the role of mass arrest in driving the activism of movements such as the East German democracy movement, XR’s founders identified it as a tactic that could generate high levels of disruption and increase media coverage. In the April ’19 UK protests alone, 1,076 rebels were arrested, 234,125 hours of police overtime (on a mean rate of £30 per hour) were required, while £16 million was spent policing the rebellions. The irony of a state focused on capital accumulation spending all that money on policing those who oppose such economically driven policies is certainly not lost on me. The identification of politics with the accumulation of capital is now “the openly declared truth by which our governments acquire legitimacy” (Rancière, 1998, p.113), yet XR’s radical politics has seen the government being played at their own game.

XR’s use of protest art has thus far played a significant role in expanding the dissensual politics of the movement. Visual art, dance and music have all been utilised to generate its own ‘metapolitics’ – its unique way of rethinking art as a political issue and asserting the political potential of art (Rancière, 2010). Whether it be the gallons of fake blood sprayed on the Treasury in London, or the politically charged songs of the “SOS from the Kids” choir, the artistic medium has been used to great effect by the movement’s participants in order to convey political and social messages without censorship. The true political potency of these individual artistic experiences lies in their ability to take on a life of their own and create new, unexpected, and even unintended, sensibilities: “what happens in the aesthetic regime of art is that artists create objects that escape their will” (Rancière, 2008, p.74). Indeed, Rancière sees the power of protest art in both its local context and its multiplicity, as the art transcends its own creation and generates novel affective capabilities.

To constitute a true rebellion, Rancière asserts that those involved must go beyond thinking of their own needs and identities in order “to think for anybody” (Rancière, 2006, p.3). In this sense, Rancière’s politics is wholly egalitarian in nature. Just like the Occupy movement before it, the Extinction Rebellion movement has actively distanced itself from identity politics and committed itself to radical equality through the renouncement of an internal hierarchy of leaders, instead keeping the movement fluid and open to self-reflexive, emergent change. As such, the rebellions have been largely processual events, contributing to the creation of new subjectivities. Yet, the issue of identity politics has been noted by many critics of the movement. Questions over the middle-classness of the organisation have been raised, while there has been much criticism concerning the white privilege that pervades the movement’s rhetoric on mass arrest. Perhaps then, XR isn’t quite the ‘properly political moment’ that Rancière presents, but can it ever be if his dissensual politics rejects the inherent identity politics that will be present in any large-scale political mobilisation of the population? Rancière’s notion that emergent ‘in-between’ subjectivities take precedence over groups united by common identity marker erases the prejudices that manifest within such large-scale movements. While Rancière’s thinking here is rather reductive, the XR movement is constantly evolving, and when it expanded to the US, a fourth demand to governments was added that prioritises indigenous sovereignty and those most vulnerable to the effects of climate change. Identity politics is a present and necessary part of XR’s structure and is crucial for developing a movement which supports the most marginalised groups in society. 

Blocking of Lambeth Bridge by Extinction Rebellion, London
Blocking of Lambeth Bridge by Extinction Rebellion, London, 07.10.2019

Image 2: XR protestor being arrested by police on Lambeth Bridge. Wikimedia Commons. Published 7 October 2019. Accessed 03 August 2020.

A ‘properly political moment’ sees ties with the prevailing social order cut, where “unimaginable things can very quickly enter into the field of possibilities” (Rancière, 2011, p.242). Through a range of dissensual protest tactics, including mass arrest and various aesthetic tactics, Extinction Rebellion has certainly achieved the above, yet perhaps its biggest achievement is reminding us that “political thought … is produced immanently by the collective of those engaged in political action” (Corcoran, 2010, p.8). A collective, however, has its components, and an egalitarian politics must attend to the needs of these components, whether they are groups based on identity markers or not.



Bassett, K. (2014) “Rancière, Politics, and the Occupy Movement”, Environment and Planning D: Society and Space, 32(5), pp. 886–901.

Corcoran, S. (2010) Editor’s Introduction: The Aesthetics of Politics. In Rancière, J. and Corcoran, S., Dissensus: on Politics and Aesthetics. London, Continuum.

Extinction Rebellion (2020) Citizens’ Assembly. Accessed at: Accessed: 02/08/2020

Rancière, J. (1998) Dis-agreement: Politics and Philosophy. Trans. Rose, J. Minneapolis, University of Minnesota.

Rancière, J. (2008) “Art Is Going Elsewhere. And Politics Has to Catch It”, Jacques Rancière interviewed by Sudeep Dasgupta, Krisis, Issue 1.

Rancière, J. (2010) Dissensus: on Politics and Aesthetics. London, Continuum.

Rancière, J. (2011), “Against an ebbing tide: An interview with Jacques Rancière”, in Bowman, P, Stamp, R. (Eds.) Reading Rancière (London, Continuum), pp. 238–251.

[1] The third core demand of the Extinction Rebellion movement asks for a Citizen’s Assembly on Climate and Ecological Justice to be formed, in order that citizens can be empowered to work together and address the ‘climate crisis’. Every member is given the same platform to voice their opinions and the decision-making processes are transparent. Citizen’s Assemblies are also especially useful when we are faced with difficult trade-offs; the Assembly may evaluate and choose the most effective option from a number of proposed policies which address a demand made by the public.

[2] BBC (2020) Climate change: UK ‘can’t go climate neutral before 2050’. Accessed at: Accessed on: 02/08/2020

Former student Flo Lines launches new podcast

Former MSc student Flo Llines tells us about the new podcast, Tales in the Anthropocene,that she has recently launched.

This podcast is the culmination of a masters year spent thinking and reading about people in a time some call “the Anthropocene”. “Anthropo” refers to us, humans, and cene meaning “new”. The Anthropocene indicates the indelible mark that humans have made on the planet, ushering in a new geological era. As a word that reflects our increasingly troubled relations with the non-human world, I have taken this idea as an important provocation, as a punctum, or a tipping point.

As a generative and ongoing project, the podcast has grown from a desire to learn, with a broader aim to continue interesting conversations outside of the university and into those in-between spaces of daily life. Each episode in the series explores a particular story from a person I have found to be inspiring, and all episodes are accompanied by a reading list, as a means to become more familiar with themes covered across the podcast. These stories cover vast terrain, but remain connected through an interest in what it means to be human right now; what are the risks, what are the possibilities?

To hear the podcase, follow the website link:

Or, click on these Mixcloud audio links:

Ep 1:

Ep 2:

Ep 3:

Traveling to Utopia with YHCHI

By Jake Sell Hicks

Pending publication in PURE TRAUMA, part of the DEEP TISSUE zine series. Published here with permission.

Young-Hae Chang Heavy Industries’ piece “Traveling to Utopia: With a Brief History of the Technology” proposes that technology’s progression ironically functions as an invasion, using metaphors of immigration and nationality to propel their questioning of society’s integration with technology. The use of specific languages, nationalities, personal narratives, and forms of technology ground the piece in the viewers’ reality, allowing the work to transcend the screen and embed itself in daily life. 


When the viewer begins the piece, the visual structure and elements demand the most attention, with the mellow jazz taking a close second. The introduction to the piece displays: “Young-Hae Chang Heavy Industries Presents,” followed by a countdown of mixed numbers and words overlaying the visual narrative structure that will encompass almost the entire piece. This structure is a three-piece textual layout, with the top in Korean and the bottom two in English. The word placement creates a clear hierarchy of importance, as the middle text is presented much larger than either the top or bottom bars, both of which are green text on black background, alluding to the old terminal display on early personal computers. This acts to bracket the middle text, displayed in the same typeface, black on white, suggesting a progression from old, “visible guts” technology to newer, more aestheticized forms of technological presentation that mask the underlying mechanisms of operation. This is a signifier that outlines the evolution of media and technology from a separate facet of our lives to a deeply integral one that permeates almost everything. This futuristic integration of technology and daily life is hinted at before the piece is even begun.


Screenshot 2019-11-20 at 12.33.44


The title itself foreshadows a critique of societal/technological change by pretending to visit “utopia.” Invoking Wells, Huxley, and various other science fiction writers produces a lineage of dystopic futures where our technological advances have altered individuals and society, suggesting a transition from technology as innovation to technology as invasion. YHCHI follows this framework and provokes the viewer to consider how the narratives and the visual elements in this piece may parallel or allude to their lives. The personal narratives allow the viewers to subsume themselves in the struggles of each protagonist, and thus relay these conflicts to their own lives. The stories follow characters that could easily be someone the viewer knows.

The middle narrative describes a woman who is presented with technology (and the succeeding upgrades to that technology) when she leaves home for college. After a certain point she discovers a locator chip in her gut and decides to just “avoid […] certain areas.”[1] Being literally impregnated with a technology that is foreign to her, she lacks the means to attain privacy. Continually shifting between temporary/transitional locations allows her an impermanence that removes her from the feeling of being watched, because it doesn’t matter – it’s such an impersonal place that it is personal. She says she likes to escape by going to “airport hotels where the atmosphere is exotic but reassuring in the midst of which I feel like I’ve gone to a far-off place that’s both everywhere and nowhere.” [2] This last portion of the narrative lacks punctuation until the very end, whereas the rest of the piece contains much more, highlighting a greater discomfort – an anxiety – when the monologue is trying to project minimally problematic acquiescence. The woman is constructed as being passive, not only unable to react and fight for herself, but unwilling to do so.

In contrast, the bottom narrative follows a man who struggles with his identity in a hostile environment, which seems to be every environment the man inhabits: he is the embedded nuisance. This portion uses several French phrases, mentions Paris and French police, Seoul, an English passport that the police cannot read, and the “hierarchy in the délit de faciès: Arab, African, Swarthy, Asian.”[3] These, along with the larger personal narrative of the man dreaming he was not detained when stopped, bring together immigration, ethnicity, assimilation, surveillance, espionage (and thus national security), and the acts within emigration via the oppressed individual. The man also says he “avoided” certain areas to stay out of the view of some body of overseers.[4] He is unable to alter his situation, as greater forces continually bear down upon him: he is not so much passive as he is apathetic. His fatigue is derived from a constant quelling of his struggle for personal freedom and agency.

As outlined in the lower narrative, language plays an important role in this piece, and YHCHI chose English for the piece consciously,[5] beginning the argument of colonialism and globalization that underlies much of the piece, extending to both visual and narrative metaphor: everything is being infected with technology. All three lines of text move at separate paces, the top continually scrolling like a Times Square stock feed (but to the beat of the percussion), the middle swiping on the four count, and the bottom flashing from one line to the next on the same beat. These compete for the viewer’s attention and focus, miming a flow of entertainment: the ephemeral stream of options passes so quickly that choice is often relinquished for passive submission. The flow itself is a controlling mechanism, moving the viewer forever forward, never allowing a step back, again mirroring the unstoppable growth and evolution of technology. The continuous scroll of Korean, being unreadable, foreign, and exotic (to many viewers), fits oddly well with the music playing, degrading it to a row of symbols that allude to song – a score of sorts – which is ambiguous and, in many ways, meaningless. This resonates with the dominance of English in the piece; it is assumed that we do not understand the Korean and thus its coordination with the music and its relation to our image of the stock feed reinforce the superiority of English by proposing that it is the only text that matters. This would only be a weak connection without the music, the existence of which promotes several concurrent interpretations.

The jazz, a mash up of many forms of music, free-forming and taking its own style, fits the “progression” framework, as it, in some ways, predated globalization in funneling and synthesizing several cultures in a wave of popular music. The jazz also acts to keep the text moving, as it does in all of YHCHI’s pieces, producing the sensation that we have no control, but that submission to this is ok – this is how it’s supposed to be, as all music has taught us to listen, especially when presented in this unidirectional way. Similarly, there is a dissonance in the mood of the music and that of the text, though they don’t confront one another directly. The jazz in this piece contends with some of the impact of the piece: the narrative is not necessarily upbeat, but the use of fairly light jazz reinforces the lulling, delusional space inhabited by the narratives’ characters. Sedately happy, the music mirrors the blind soma-induced submission to technology’s invasion.

Employing all these elements, YHCHI is suggesting that technology is utilized for the invasion of people’s lives for matters of security, which is cyclical in nature: as the body at large invades the individual body/life, the individual loses control, agency, and thus the perception of safety. The issue of unattainable safety revolves around the contested sanctity of the body as well as the privacy of our personal lives, as individuals are managed by their respective governing bodies. Both narratives show that individuals grapple with this insecurity, but compromise and ultimately submit to it without much struggle. YHCHI propose this is happening somewhere, be it real or not, present, future, or past, male and female, classless, and relatable to the majority of their audience: the viewer is made into the subject of the narrative via its ambiguity. Here then is the provocation: if we are being surveilled, or are going to be, in any of these ways, will we submit so placidly?

[1] Young-Hae Chang Heavy Industries, “Traveling Utopia: With a Brief History of the Technology,” 3:31-3:34

[2] Ibid., 3:36-3:43

[3] Ibid., 2:56-3:01

[4] Ibid., 3:04