Agamben Says We’re All Barely Alive—And He’s Not Wrong

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In a world that seems to revolve around the continuous churn of life—work, bills, the endless pursuit of meaning—Giorgio Agamben’s theory on bare life feels uncomfortably accurate.

We’re all living through a thin veil of existence, hanging between the biological “zoe” and the political “bios.”

Barely alive.

Agamben thinks that’s the problem.

Picture yourself, if you will, in a crumbling office, an old dirty keyboard carrying all the viruses in the world clacking beneath your fingers.

The hum of fluorescent lights adds to the sense of dread that creeps in with each passing hour.

Somewhere, deep down, you know that you are barely hanging on, like so many of us, working two jobs to make ends meet in a system that demands everything from us without ever truly granting us a life worth living.

How long can you keep going?

The Man Who Wants to Make Us Think

Agamben, the Italian philosopher who might as well have been born with a cigar and a sense of impending doom, is known for his exploration of the concept of bare life.

His theory fundamentally disrupts the idea that we are free, autonomous beings with the power to shape our own existence.

Instead, he argues, we are reduced to mere life—life without qualification, stripped of meaning beyond survival.

In his seminal work Homo Sacer, Agamben claims that the division between zoe (bare life) and bios (qualified life) is at the core of Western politics.

This distinction, originally drawn by Aristotle, is no longer just theoretical; it’s a paradigm that governs how we live. We are “included through exclusion,” as Agamben puts it.

To break this down, the very system that claims to give us life—government, law, society—also holds the power to exclude us from any form of real political existence.

We live in a state of permanent exception, suspended between inclusion and exclusion, with no clear distinction between the two.

For Agamben, the concentration camp isn’t just a historical anomaly. It is, in fact, the fundamental political structure of the modern world.

The camp, where people exist in a state of exception, where they are neither fully included in society nor completely excluded from it, is the ultimate manifestation of how we all live.

When you look closely at the structures around you, Agamben argues, you realize that we are all just one step away from becoming homo sacer, or sacred life—a life that can be killed without consequence.

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The Thin Line Between Life and Death

The image Agamben paints is bleak and familiar. Take the character of Winston Smith from George Orwell’s 1984. Winston, a cog in the machine of a totalitarian regime, is constantly at odds with the idea of his own life.

His existence, constantly surveilled, is a life lived on the edge—between life and death, between meaning and emptiness.

He exists in a world where freedom is an illusion, and his every breath is regulated.

In this way, Winston is the perfect embodiment of Agamben’s bare life—he’s alive, but only just, and his life is defined by the power that oppresses him.

But what about us? Are we any different? Agamben suggests that the tools of power—biopolitics, surveillance, and control—have transformed us into mere bodies that exist for the sake of existing.

We are reduced to “bare life,” and any aspirations beyond that—community, freedom, identity—are rendered secondary to the one thing we’re allowed to do: survive.

Table 1: Agamben’s Concept of Life in Politics

TermDescription
zoeBare, biological life; life in its most basic, animalistic form.
biosQualified life; life shaped by political, social, or cultural meaning.
Homo SacerA life that is excluded from society but still subject to its power.
State of ExceptionThe condition where normal laws and politics are suspended, creating a gap between life and citizenship.

Explaining It to an Apprentice

Imagine you’re explaining Agamben to a kid—well, not a kid exactly, but maybe someone just starting out, an apprentice of sorts.

“Okay, kid, here’s the deal: Imagine you’re in a game, and the rules are always changing.

Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, and sometimes you’re stuck in a spot where you don’t even know if you’re in the game anymore.

You’re alive, but not really living. It’s like being trapped in a world where you don’t get to make any decisions, but you’re still here, breathing.

That’s what Agamben calls bare life—you exist, but your life doesn’t really belong to you.”

It’s a harsh way of putting it, but Agamben’s work demands that we confront the uncomfortable.

Analyzing Some Key Quotes From Giorgio Agamben

“In the eyes of authority – and maybe rightly so – nothing looks more like a terrorist than the ordinary man.”


― Giorgio Agamben, What Is an Apparatus? and Other Essays

Explanation:

Agamben’s got this dark thought, like a bad dream you can’t shake. He says that in the eyes of power, the “ordinary man” — yeah, you and me — looks just like a terrorist.

And maybe he’s right, because in this world, where the guys at the top have their fingers in every damn pie, anyone who’s not a robot is trouble.

You could be just a guy, walking through the day with nothing more dangerous than a sandwich in your hand, and they’ll still look at you like you’re planning something, like you’re the next big threat to their clean little world.

You’ve got no idea what’s coming, but they do. They don’t care if you’ve got a family, if you’ve got dreams.

They’ll look at you, all innocent and regular, and say, “He’s a risk. Watch him.” And that’s the nightmare we live in — the people in charge see everyone as a bomb waiting to go off.

It don’t matter who you are. You could be just a guy trying to get by, but you’re just one step away from being on their list. And they’ll make sure you know it.

Life and death are not properly scientific concepts but rather political concepts, which as such acquire a political meaning precisely only through a decision.

-Giorgio Agamben

Explanation:

Agamben’s saying that life and death aren’t really about science — they’re about politics. It’s not about biology, not about what makes the heart beat or the body decay.

No, life and death get their meaning from the guys in charge, the ones who make the decisions, the ones who decide who gets to live, who gets to die, and who’s stuck in between.

They hold the power to define what it means to be alive, and what it means to be dead. It’s all about control.

It’s not the scientists in the lab coats deciding; it’s the politicians in the suits, sitting behind closed doors, making choices for everyone else.

Life and death, when you get down to it, are just words — and their real meaning comes from the decisions that decide whether you’re free or not.

The Dark Truth

As we slog through our days, caught in the machinery of work and existence, the darkness of Agamben’s theory looms large.

We live in a system that takes away our meaning, reduces us to a mere biological existence, and plays with our lives as if we’re just pieces on a chessboard.

So, what does that leave us with?

Nothing good. But that’s exactly the point.

We’re not just talking about the physical pain of being stuck in a meaningless routine; we’re talking about a deeper sense of existential void, where every move we make seems dictated by invisible forces.

In this sense, the existential despair that Sartre or Camus spoke of rings true.

We’re trapped in a system that turns us into homo sacer—a life that can be sacrificed for nothing.

Table 2: Agamben’s Impact on Modern Politics

IdeaImplication for Modern Society
BiopoliticsThe governance of life itself; the regulation of bodies and health.
State of ExceptionThe suspension of law and political rights in times of crisis, normalizing emergency measures.
Homo SacerThe condition of those who exist outside political life, subject to state violence without legal protection.

The Glimmer of Hope

But there’s something deeper lurking in Agamben’s work, a tiny glimmer of hope that comes at the expense of our understanding. Agamben is clear that we are not without agency, even if the political system continuously tries to deny it.

We still have the power to question, to resist, and to refuse the systems that oppress us.

Our choice will determine whether we remain in a state of bare life—just surviving, constantly on the edge—or whether we rise above the system that seeks to reduce us to mere existence.

This is where Agamben’s critique becomes a call to action.

Not for revolution, but for reflection, for rethinking what it means to truly live in a world where life itself is politicized.

The question is simple: Do we want to live, or do we just want to survive?

The answer? It’s up to us. And that’s the most terrifying part of all.

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