Accusing the State of Violence, in Life and in Death: Louis Auguste Blanqui

 Dawn Dodds

 

The years following 1789 had taught the radicals that they could never have any long-term political success unless they established themselves as a credible form of  stable government. Establishing political credibility, however, was no easy task for a movement that was largely excluded from official channels of political expression – whether monarchical, imperial, or republican. Nineteenth-century radicals faced the further challenge of an instutionalization of state power (e.g., more precise censorship laws, professionalization of police and military forces, systematic surveillance, and anti-association laws.)

            The tactic of turning the accusation of violence on the state proved a highly effective strategy both for defending the legitimacy of the radical movement, and for claiming public platforms from which to express their political agenda. Not only did this approach make it possible for the radicals to distance themselves from violence and tarnish the reputation of the established regime, but it also provided a frame for understanding revolutionary violence which painted their past involvement as heroic rather than destructive.

            Nicknamed “l’enfermé” (“the imprisoned one”) for the long years he spent in jail, Louis Auguste Blanqui (1805-1881) came to embody the accusation of state violence. State persecution of such prominent radicals, however, was a double-edged sword. Over the course of the nineteenth century, members of the radical opposition honed the skill of using the allegation of state violence to transform the stand into a political platform. Protected by the nature of courts as an institution, Blanqui drew large crowds to witness the belligerent denunciations of the regime which he paraded as defense speeches.

            Blanqui died in 1881, under the Third Republic, and 200,000 people are reported to have turned out for his funeral. After a large procession across the city, his service at Père-Lachaise cemetery was launched with a confrontational eulogy by the anarchist Louise Michel (“His memory and his example are the arms that he has left us to vanquish them!”). Drawing on the heated press debates surrounding each of the commemorative ceremonies held for Blanqui, this paper concludes with an examination of how the Left continued to invoke his memory as a means of accusing the state of violence long after his death.