Notes on: Deleuze, G. (2006) Two Regimes of Madness: texts and interviews 1975--95. Ed D Lapoujade. Trans. Ames Hodges & Mike Taormina. New York: Semiotext(e) Foreign Agents Series

Dave Harris

[brief notes on these brief pieces. Unusually readable on the whole]

1. Two Regimes of Madness

This is about how power exerts itself and why it is everywhere. There are several 'lines' at work [like the ones in the Plateau on the novella]

 We might consider the puppeteer who works with a vertical line in order to make the puppet move. This is an abstract line composed of many singularities 'as stopping points' (11), although these do not break the line. The abstract line is linked to the concrete movements of the puppet but not in any kind of binary or biunivocal way.

There are also curved lines expressed in say an arm or a tilting head. These consist of supple segments. A third line offers harder sorts of segments, where the puppet corresponds to the moments of the story. Segmentable lines might well display structural binary relations, but this still leaves a power with the puppeteer to convert the abstract line to these two segmented lines.

Banking in capitalism operates with two similar forms of money, an abstract version which does finance, monetary creation and so on, with its singularities, and then a more concrete one more tangible money as payment, something capable of being segmented and subdivided. And this in turn produces a third segmented line, all the goods produced as a whole, total consumption. Banking gets its power by being able to convert the abstract to the concrete lines.

In another example, there is absolute war, something 'irresolvable, singular, mutant, abstract' (12), a war flow found in war machines independent of states. States by contrast do not attempt to construct such a war machine, but rather to appropriate it through the conduct of wars, including both limited and total wars, and actual policies of states can affect and limit the possibilities to give the third segmented line. Power really resolves again in the conversion of the abstract to the segmented.

The three lines do not have the same pace or speed or even the same territories, and thus not the same deterritorializations. At the human level, schizoanalysis might well identify these crossing lines of desire, abstract lines of escape and lines of segmentarity both supple and hard, and how one gets converted into the other.

Guattari is pursuing a cartography of semiotic regimes. An example here is the two regimes of signs in 19th-century psychiatry. The first regime saw signs functioning in a complex way, where a sign defers to another sign, one sign induces another in human action and so on. Double articulation here means that a sign always refers to another sign, and that the apparently infinite ensemble of signs refer to some greater signifier — as in despotic Imperial or paranoid regimes of signs [and Freud's Oedipus?] . In the second regime a small bundle of signs begins to flow along a certain line producing a linear network, and here a sign can defer to a [human presumably] subject. This produces delirium where one line is pursued to the end before another one is initiated. Clinically this has produced two kinds of delirium, 'paranoid and passional' [citing Clerembault]. Psychiatry classically has not distinguished these regimes, and this results in anomaly — the paranoid still has impeccable reasoning, the passional man shows madness only in 'rash acting out'(14) [apparently Foucault discusses both].

These regimes of signs cross different forms of stratification, in this case social formations. It is not that emperors are paranoid, but more that the Imperial formation operates with a single great signifier which dominates the network of signs which then refer to each other. These are circulated by special people, interpreters, who will 'freeze the signifier' (15). There are still subjects to receive the message, but in each case there is also a possibility that the signified will generate more meaning, requiring more control.

In this way, social formations might appear to work well, but there is always a potential for escape — the messenger just might not arrive, those on the periphery will be torn between obeying the central interpretation or to follow tangents of deterritorialization, to become a nomad, to emit their own 'a-signifying particles' in Guattari's terms. An example here might be the late Roman Empire and the Temptations felt by the German marginals who both want to integrate themselves into the Empire, but also respond to pressures to form a line of escape and become a war machine, 'marginal and non-assimilable' (16).

Capitalism also seems to function well. It is dominated by passional delirium, where decentralised bundles of signs pursue lines producing effects like movements of money capital, subjects appearing as the agents of capital and work, inequality. The subject is told that 'the more he obeys the more he commands since he obeys only himself' [nicked from Guattari?]. The [self-policing] obedient subject replaces the commanding subject, giving a different regime of signs from imperialism. It is more integrative of peripheral subjects, and it offers 'freezing nomadism in its tracks'. We can trace it in the revolution in philosophy from an imperial stage with an ultimate signifier to one which stressed the subject as a passional delirium [from theology to humanism?]. Even here, there are still 'leaks' since this kind of subjectivation always produces transversals marginal subjectivities, junctions, lines of deterritorialization, 'an internal nomadism' new a-signifying particles — Watergate, global inflation. [Classic vacillation between despair and hope].

2. Schizophrenia and society

Schizophrenics do not live as a global machine: they are instead traversed by machines. The organs are not provisional machines but only machine parts, random components connected with other external components [like objects]. Once these organs are 'plugged into flows' (17) they can then develop into complex machines. Schizophrenic machinery is 'totally disparate', and this gives us an idea of how the unconscious actually works as 'a factory' [A case study in Bettelheim illustrates this, where a particular child sees himself as being plugged into motors, carburettors, steering wheels and electric circuits, and is unable to function without these imaginary connections expressed in rituals]. Schizophrenics permanently flow along machinic lines, constructing a circuit, for example from a walk in the park. Their utterances are the product of machine assemblages. Wolfson explains the origins of his invented language in terms of a machine with components like a finger in one ear, a foreign book in one hand.

These disparate elements that are put into play produce aggregate machines in schizophrenics. They work in order to make a flow or put something to flight. The machine is not even always made up of parts from pre-existing machines. The parts are related to each other precisely because they have no other relation, almost as if their very difference becomes a reason to group them together. They are not able to construct singularities [from regular flows] but operate with disparate and irreducible elements connected by relations like the force of desire. Their unconsciousness is made of left over elements put together to become a machine, like the apparently random elements mentioned by Beckett characters, producing 'a properly schizophrenic non-– sense' (19).

Another theme is offered by the notion of the organless body [instead of the more usual BwO?]  with no working organs, a body 'swollen like a giant molecule or non-differentiated egg'. It produces catatonic stupor. It seems to arise from a struggle with the earlier phase of exaggerated workings of machines, and this struggle produces characteristics schizophrenic anxieties. However, it is not organs but organism which is the enemy, 'any organization which imposes on the organs a regime of totalisation, collaboration, synergy, integration, inhibition and disjunction' (20). It is this threat that leads schizophrenics to reject the organs as instruments of persecution [you can't help but wonder if this is an extreme version of bourgeois distaste for the body — are schizophrenics mostly bourgeois?]. The organless body has to recruit the organs and make them function in a different way, so that the organ becomes the whole body, miraculously transformed, following a different sort of machinic regime altogether — 'for example the mouth – anus – lung of the anorexic', or the bizarre bodies described in Burroughs, or the struggle in Artaud against the organism and against God, or Schreber's alternating rejection and attraction of his body.

So the two poles, catatonia and organ machines, are never isolated. Sometimes one gets the upper hand leading to paranoia and repulsion, sometimes the other leads to miraculous or fantastic forms of schizophrenia. This is just like the way the egg can be understood not as a non-differentiated milieu, but as traversed by dimensions and potentials, thresholds and zones. A variable intensity flows through it. Similarly, schizophrenics have 'a matrix of intensity' and see the organs as intensive, producing various intensive states, an intensive journey. The organless body operates at zero intensity, but it is enveloped by intensive quantities, the organ machines which will fill up one space or another. The organless body is the pure intensive matter, something stationary but capable of producing organ machines with their own powers. The very structure of schizophrenic delirium shows that beneath delirious thinking or hallucination there is something more profound, a notion of intensity as a becoming or a passage, and migration, a feeling which records the intensive relationship between the organless body and the machine organs. Pharmacology offers a great deal of potential here as does molecular biology, 'chemistry at once intensive and experiential' experimenting with schizoid states induced through hallucinogenic drugs, various drug therapies to calm anxiety in order to dismantle catatonia.

The symptoms of schizophrenia are difficult to systematize and make coherence as a syndrome. Earlier attempts have mentioned disaggregation and catatonia, while others have stressed functional dislocations of associations which can lead to a dissociation of the whole person, a dissociation from reality and society, with a fully autonomous inner life closed in on itself [once called autism apparently]. The condition tends to be defined in terms of the disturbed personality as a whole, with the symptoms as expressions of this disturbance. Yet others have talked about different forms of being in the world and relations to space and time, one of which has led to an attempt to repair associations enough to pursue conventional Freudian analysis.

However, these accounts do not stress the positive traits. There are negative ones in the form of deficits and associations. Psychoanalysis has often found it difficult to deal with schizophrenia as well as other psychoses, and has tended to prioritize neurosis. For Freud, the difference turned on whether reality principles were maintained and complexes repressed, or whether reality was destroyed by turning away from the external world. Lacan has a different approach, referring to 'psychotic foreclosure' which fails to operate in the symbolic order, and instead grasps the symbolic as hallucinations in the real. Schizophrenia as negative, as lacking something has also led to a search for origins, say in the maternal role such as to limit the classic Oedipal structure [including British anti-psychiatry], especially if there is an absence of the signifier of the father. This particular approach has not proved to be very successful, however, nor has the overall emphasis on schizogenetic families — the contradictory messages are 'in fact a banal part of the daily existence of every family' (25).

The schizophrenic as lacking something, including a normal family has failed to grasp the syndrome: 'Beckett and Artaud have said all there is to say about it',an example of artists grasping things better than scientists. It is not just a matter of reproducing an imaginary family story based on a lack. On the contrary, there is 'an overflowing of history', covering all the elements of history ['universal history'] and involving historical knowledge of, for example, kingdoms, wars and revolutions. The manifest content of delirium is not particularly relevant. Rather, desire makes a whole social and historical field relevant, even where delirium involves the family — there are still forces acting on families which are 'extra familial' (26). There is no articulation between schizophrenic discourse and the discourse of history, which we can see with the frequent appearance of proper names, often referring to 'races, continents, classes, persons', although it is proper names not actual persons.

We might think of more positive terms, especially if we do not wish just to silence schizophrenics. Machinic relations are not just dissociations but more positive outcomes. Autism is not the best word to describe the organless body. Schizophrenics do not lose reality so much as being unbearably affected by it. We can see schizophrenia as a positive process, something which involves a break with reality but only to lead to 'a kind of trip through "more reality," at once intensive and terrifying, following lines of flight that engulfed nature and history, organism and spirit' (27).

This is a difference with paranoia, with not so much a dominant combination of signs, but rather a series of machinic assemblages, 'tiny multiplicities' rather than vast territories, 'active lines of flight'(28). It seems to be more common because of particular 'precise mechanisms of a social political and economic nature' which have broken with the old notions of codes and territories and which offer instead 'widespread decoding and deterritorialization' [the basis of the fascist reading of Deleuze]. It is not a matter of restoring codes and territories, but developing even more self decoding and self deterritorialization. The real problem is to make sure that a breakthrough does not become a breakdown [with Laing cited], preventing catatonic stupor and anxiety or exhaustion. Here, the conditions of the hospital itself are important, and the question arises of the best kind of group or collectivity — that and the ability to harness 'the power of a lived creativity'.

Chapter 3 Proust round table

[Much of the Deleuze contribution is already found in his book on Proust, especially the last chapter. This may be the first draft of it?]

Barthes thinks that Proust offers a particular kind of 'perforated' discourse (29) with inexhaustible material, 'always displaced when it returns'. It also illustrates the desire for criticism.

Deleuze focuses on the problem of madness in Proust — de Charlus and Albertine. However the narrator can be seen as in charge of this madness. He has 'no organs'(30) [he is disembodied] he can only respond to signs, like a spider responding to vibrations in its web, without perceptions or sensations. The resulting vision resembles that of a fly, a nebula with bright points, as in the nebula of Charlus. The narrator sees singularities inside the nebula, eyes or a voice. With the Albertine nebula, there is originally a collection of young girls with singularities, a global vision at first. Then the singularities produce a series — Charlus's three speeches [interest/disavowal, opposition between himself and the other characters, madness with speech going off track]. There are multiple Albertine series, punctuated by sadomasochism, and ending with an explosion where there are only little particles of Albertine in a transversal dimension. This is another kind of vegetal understanding, 'a plant like compartmentalisation' (33), demonstrated best in the first kiss with Albertine: there is the nebula of the face, then multiple Albertines, then a blind experience of Albertine's breaking up.

Genette says the novel presents us with a challenge for conventional hermeneutics which was paradigmatic or metaphorical, to develop a new one that is syntagmatic and metonymical. It is not just a matter of recurrent motifs which can be analysed into thematic objects in a network, which have long been the basis of literary criticism. Others have noticed the sporadic occurrences of characters, but there are still unifying themes — alcohol and sexuality are metaphorically equivalent, so our displacement and delay with Albertine which occurs in a number of places and times, as does the castle in Combray. The difficulties in connecting these elements arises because Proust was interested in dispersion and dissociation as well, an expanding universe from an original junction of, say, Marcel and Swann, the original simple connection between the Magdalen and the cobblestones. This means that context is important to limit the significance on symbols, 'an instrument to reduce meaning' (35), but the context, the space of and in the text, also generates sense. Hence the possibility for a syntagmatic hermeneutics to show textual variation over time, the effects of 'difference, modulation and alteration'. Perhaps the critic also needs to interpret variations.

Barthes replies that this would still be hermeneutic, with a 'vertical climb to essential object'. Simply describing the writing of variations would just be a semiology, which Foucault once opposed to hermeneutics.

Richard wants to identify different themes or motifs, including the possibility readers are offered the chance to liberate the different constitutive elements and thus connect them with other objects: objects are not finally defined, and we can use other qualities to find other motifs [the verticality of the castle keep can be phallic or erotic, especially since sex scenes take part in it, and there can be an abiding theme of depth and clandestinity, including the Paris subway stations where homosexuals met]. What makes things thematic is their ability to be divided and distributed in networks, in woven textures, including 'a vast signifying spiderweb' (38). They offer us broken series which can be continually re-encountered or traversed. Indeed, traversing as in deleuzian transversals involves relays between different modalities, but the issue is why the transversal should be privileged in Deleuze's reading as opposed to all the other structures like 'focality symmetry and laterality' (38).

Deleuze replies that a transversal dimension is neither simply horizontal or vertical, assuming that it lies on a plane. The issue is why Proust might need this. One thing is that there is a great deal of noncommunication, the characters live in boxes, with their own properties or indeed possessions. When they do communicate, it is 'aberrent', just like the form of the relation between the bee and the orchid [a bumblebee this time]. This mad vision is far more plant-based than animal-based, as in the analysis of human sexuality as 'an affair of flowers' – everyone is hermaphrodite but forced to undergo sexual fertilization. For example with males and females, there will be female and male parts as well and this means four possibilities — relating to the female part of a woman or the male part of the woman, and the same for women. This is a form of communication but between otherwise closed boxes with openings. The way these relations develop between orchids and bees is an example of 'an a-parallel evolution' (40) [a rather confusing note suggests that this is a reference to the work of a certain R Chauvin]. In another example, the narrator runs from one window to the other on a train journey. Nothing communicates naturally, 'the unity is not in what is seen. The only possible unity has to be sought in the narrator in his spider behaviour weaving his web from one window to the other'. The search is pursued by the narrator and 'all of the other characters are only boxes, mediocre or splendid boxes' [another example of what came to be defined as the realist text with the omniscient narrator linking together what the characters saw and thought — for Marxist critics, this was an ideological positioning -- but see below. Certainly, Deleuze does not seem to discuss here any possible activity by the reader to impose any kind of narrative, although he has more faith in the viewer of avant-garde cinema to do so]…

It is not that the narrator comes to understand or know the nature of time [this is the ideological moment in realism], but rather that he knows what he has been doing from the beginning, knowing he is a spider, knowing that madness has always been there, that people are connected in a web. This makes the whole work an example of the transversal dimension.

Doubrovsky says there are also signs of other major 'psychological laws'. Deleuze replies that these are localized, and, because they are 'laws of series' they are never the last word: there is something deeper. The apparent laws of lying or jealousy like this, so are the planes crossed by Albertine's face. Proust manipulates these laws with humorous intent, and this raises an obvious problem for [straight] interpretation. There is always humour in a great author [the only example is a rather obscure one where Charlus rebukes the young Marcel as not really caring for his grandmother at all — this is a prediction that the narrator's love for his grandmother is not the whole story, cannot be].

Questions from the audience, for Barthes and Doubrovsky [who attempts to make all the different perspectives agree, in the sense that they all establish a network of differences, and that we can all see Proust as mildly mad — 'loony']. Ricardou and Genette discuss the similarities between Proust and Roussel. Roussel also arranges an endless proliferation of parentheses inside other parentheses dispersing the themes, but does this presuppose that there was an original unity [called an 'Osiriac' approach, assuming a great deal of knowledge about Osiris]. At the same time, Roussel offers us an impossible puzzle because there are so many separated parentheses that they can never be recomposed into a unity, hence a new theme of 'impossible reunification' (43). Is it that Roussel simply mastered a method more thoroughly than Proust did, and to what extent do all texts illustrate distance and separation and so on? Barthes adds that we can see examples in music of the development of theme and variation, although notes that in a particular piece by Beethoven [variations on a waltz by Diabelli] the original theme is only there as a joke and the variations are so substantial that they can no longer be seen as just variations: the result is 'a metaphor, but without an origin' (45)

Another question raises the issue of Proust's method. Deleuze thinks that the narrator does develop the spider strategy as his work progresses. Doubrovsky thinks there are several methods, turning on relations between the narrator as a me and as an I [my terms though]. Genette says we must distinguish between the narrator and protagonist. It is the protagonist that learns the spider method, but the narrator's method is still to be discussed [the narrator does realism? The narrator does deleuzian philosophy?].

The questioner then discusses whether there is a difference between a method that develops little by little and one that appears only at the end — Deleuze says they are the same, it is just that the method is defined right at the end as an abstract one, not entangled with content. The questioner wants to ask whether the will not to understand is not part of the method as well, involving rejecting obvious understandings in favour of instinct, which is proved right at the end. Deleuze says that this method 'functioned well' in this case but is not universal, merely developed for this particular work. The method is not set out at the start, not really even evoked. The example of the madeleine shows that an explicitly methodological effort is required from the narrator, the first 'scrap of method in practice' (48), but the inadequacies of this early effort are only discussed right at the end, in another mode, as the result of a revelation. Throughout the narrator has to be open to what constrains or hurts him, and this might be seen as a method as well.

Another question asks about the role of belief arising from impressions. Deleuze sees this as the world of perception and intellect on the one hand and the world of signals on the other — belief simply means that a signal has been received. Spiders have to believe in vibrations of the web even if they do not believe in flies. Objects only exist if they emit signals that energize the web. That requires them to be caught in a web at a particular moment.

One question asks about the difference between being mad and being loony. Deleuze says you can note the use that Proust himself makes of the term madness, in the The Prisoner, saying that it is madness that really worries people rather than crime, and that this explains the disturbing effects of  Charlus, who is not only homosexual and aggressive, but something more worrying, mad. If we needed a name, we could say that the world of Proust is a schizophrenic one. Doubrovsky thinks the narrator is not completely mad but that he struggles with madness. There may be more serious neurosis at work with constant repetition of the stories and situations, obsession rather than simple coincidence, one that even breaks with narrative realism and replaces it with delirium.

Barthes is asked about some of his earlier work on the pleasure of the text. He replies that examining the pleasures in the text might need to be much more developed, especially with texts that have broken with conventional narratives and stories and their traditional comforts. Generally, it is important to de-structure texts: it is a bit like free-form music. The text becomes like 'sheet music full of holes with which one will be able to operate variations' (53). This in turn raises the issue of what exactly is the Proustian text. [And it might be a way of exploring the pleasures of the skilled reader, presumably?

Richard says that everyone seems to agree that Proust features 'the perspective of dispersal, fragmentation, and discontinuity', but there are also ideological themes as well, organizing descriptions into, say, 'ways', or the ability of characters to tie together threads that were once seen as separate. How important does Barthes think this sort of ideology might be? Barthes accepts that it does appear at the end, and may be described as 'the text's misunderstanding of itself' (54) [the writing itself does not recognize the impact of its own ideology?]. Richard suggests that the ideology still structures the text and sometimes looks like a deleuzian practice. It may be true that the main characters only understand the meaning of episodes later, but there is already 'a theoretical presupposition and certainty of what is the value of the experience to be interpreted later'.

Ricardou does accept that there are ideological elements, but sees them as having two functions. [The first sees ideological themes represented in the text].  The second one might even be opposed to the functioning of the text, so that fiction and narration come into opposition and we have not a metaphor but an antithesis. We could even see it as 'deception' (55), where dispersion in itself awakens a desire for later gathering together. It might be seen best in the theme of 'the same becoming other' as much as the other way around.

Genette says that theory can lag behind practice in Proust and in many other writers, and his aesthetic and literary ideology might be behind the times for us. It might also be the case that the literary theory is more subtle than the actual syntheses of the novel — for example he suggest that readers have to read for themselves rather than offering a final closure attached to a classical work. We have also learned about Proust's texts as he continued to write volumes and to reveal 'pre texts and para texts' (56). We still do not have all of the text, and may never have it.

An audience question reverts to the term madness, and specifically to why Deleuze thinks that Charlus is mad. Deleuze says we can find this in the text. Anyway it is not that important. The questioner insists that madness might also be apparent when coincidences pile up towards the end — we could read this psychologically as proof of [Proust's] madness?

Doubrovsky thinks that the writer tributes various disorders to others, including homosexuality and madness, but thinks of himself as suffering a psychosomatic illness. There may indeed be an ideology guiding the construction of his universe, but there is also a specific mental universe, which may even be unconscious — the story is being told but also being destroyed [revealed as a story]. The questioner asks if this is just an argument that anything non-realist must be mad, but Doubrovsky sees the attack on realism as a major discovery of modern writing [that doesn't always suggest madness].

Another questioner asks about the economy of pleasure, and asks who's pleasure this is. Doesn't Proust write 'beyond the pleasure principle'? (58), and hasn't the current stress on the  pleasure of the reader missed out the economic investments that the writer deploys? Barthes agrees that this might be a future discovery, and further anticipates that pleasure itself might be dissolved back into desire and fantasy. The questioner thinks that this is exactly the pleasure expressed by the critic!

The question for Deleuze takes up the issue of Proust's violence towards himself, but wants to know how Proust discovers things that do violence to him. Deleuze replies that for Proust the whole world of signals and signs does violence. The questioner asks whether or not there are other important series at work, connected with sexuality, for example, and the deep social difference between the sexes Deleuze insists that there is no separation between the world of signs and the world of sexuality. The questioner thinks that it is inscribed somewhere else, but Deleuze says that especially for Proust, the world of signs is 'the world of the hermaphrodite... that does not communicate with itself: it is the world of violence' (60).

Chapter 4. On the Vincennes Department of Psychoanalysis

There is been a purge of lecturing staff in the Department. Deleuze says it is Stalinism. It is based apparently on the instructions of Lacan, 'in the name of a mysterious matheme of psychoanalysis' (62). This particular kind of psychoanalysis acts 'as a kind of terrorism', seeing any resistance to its knowledge claims as unhealthy — the 'blackmail of the unconscious of the opposition'.

Chapter 5. Author's Note for the Italian Edition of Logic of Sense

The book may need to be read benevolently to regain its relevance. It was the first time experimenting with a form that is not traditional philosophy. Lewis Carroll was an inspiration for thinking of different spatial dimensions or 'topological axes'(63) for thought. The classic approach is to think in terms of depth and height, and this is found in the Adventures in Wonderland, but in Looking Glass there is an emphasis instead on surfaces, and it is not a matter of sinking or ascending but rather sliding. [Sylvie and Bruno is different with two adjoining stories folded into each other].

In Logic of Sense, the intention is to show how thoughts can be organized according to these similar axes, classical thought with height and depth, the Stoics with surfaces. Thought can take on different topologies as it develops its own 'celestial map'. Pursuing these different axes produces different ways of speaking, different languages and style.

Difference and Repetition still operated with classical heights and depths, where intensity was a matter of depth, something coming from the depths. In Logic of Sense the emphasis is on surfaces. The concepts remain the same: '"multiplicities," "singularities," "intensities," "events," "infinities," "problems," "paradoxes" and "propositions"' (65) but their organization is different. Similarly the method adopted a serial method relating to surfaces and the language changed, becoming more intensive and attempting to 'move along the path of very small spurts'.

Critics have said it still looks too self-satisfied over psychoanalysis [? Confident it has dealt with it?]. Deleuze says it was trying to make psychoanalysis less offensive, as a surface art, dealing with surface entities ['(Oedipus was not a bad person, he had good intentions…)']. and the main psychoanalytic concepts remain.

Since he met Guattari, it became impossible to just refer to his own thoughts, however. He and Félix pursue new directions 'simply because we felt like doing so', and Anti-Oedipus has neither depth nor surface. Instead, everything happens 'upon a sort of spherical body… The Organless Body' (66). They intended to be the 'Humpty Dumpty of philosophy, or its Laurel and Hardy'. Politics took the place of psychoanalysis. Method became a matter of micropolitics and analysis schizoanalysis, studying multiplicities upon the different types of organless bodies — 'rhizome instead of series says Guattari'. Anti-Oedipus is a good beginning but the trick is not be stuck with it — 'the secret is to become invisible and to make a rhizome without putting down roots'.

Chapter 6. The Future of Linguistics

Henri Gobarb suggests four types of language — vernacular, vehicular, (to do with exchange,and circulation), referential, (national cultural language designed to reconstruct the past), mythical (referring to the spiritual or magical homeland). Some of these may exist only as dialect or jargon. The point is these languages are in actual conflict and languages are to be examined in terms of their functions. The functions compete in different languages according to the effects of history and milieux. Several actual languages may be competing to discharge the same function.

The main research here is on bilingualism, but Gobarb wants to avoid simple binaries like one between major and minor language. The point is to see how these oppositions are actually generated, how a language comes to power, as American English has currently: it's a good vehicular language but it needs to take on referential, mythical and vernacular functions as well. The American Western can speak to the past for Frenchmen too, American slang affects European vernaculars and so on. There is no simple colonial imposition, but 'active political struggles and even micro struggles' (68).

What we need is '"terra-glossian" analysis' [and we're going to refer to the mysterious 'powers of the earth here' -- maybe Gobarb invented the term? . In one case, Kafka and other Czech Jews avoided Yiddish as a vernacular, eschewed Czech, developed their own 'desiccated German' and dreamed of Hebrew as the mythical language. We see the same with immigrant languages in France and England, and the resurgence of regional languages, some of which even take on mythical and referential functions. Some have 'both fascistic and revolutionary tendencies' (69). We should understand this as the result of a continuing micropolitics, seen for example in the struggles over the teaching of English in France in the name of preserving '"the right to an accent"' (the preservation of particular references) and polyvocal desires.

The four functions of language might be seen to map onto the classical distinctions of language — the conative and emotive functions linking sender and receiver, the exchange of information, verbal context [including vocabulary], poetic functions, and a metalinguistic code with necessary agreements between senders and receivers. However, Gobarb adds 'terra- genesis' so that emotive functions develop in the child as the result of the relation with mamma, and mythical ones with childhood magical languages. Unlike all the other linguists, there are no universals like subject, object, message, code, only a form of power in language. Collective and social assemblages, in combination with 'movements of the "earth,"' (70) offer different types of linguistic power, especially in the power to develop deterritorialization and reterritorialization: this is the 'new geolinguistics'. Subjects are replaced by collective assemblages of utterance, codes by coefficients of deterritorialization. Thus migrants are deterritorialized by colonial languages and must reterritorialize on their own versions.

Some other linguists [Ducrot is cited] are also turning from attention to the informational character of language, and how particular languages require the assimilation of a code. They argue instead that semantics and syntax should be understood in terms of pragmatics or politics, with power as a crucial dimension. They also challenging structural homogeneity and universals of language. Languages become 'gibberish, Joycean quirks… not anchored to structures' (71). Functions and movements create 'polemical order'. Classical linguistics has attempted to work with many languages in the name of 'pure research'. Gobarb raises another question: 'how to stammer?', how to stammer language in general [the example is Luca, the best French poet who happens to be Romanian and who has invented stammering language, and other examples include Wolfson]