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 Gobard 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 Gobard 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 Gobard 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.

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'. Gobard 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]

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, Gobard 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.

Chapter 7 Alain Roger's Le Misogyne

[I don't know this work  and it is still in French so I can't comment much. The stuff on sexuality at the end is the important stuff]. Apparently it looks like a serial killing novel with a kind of cod Freudian storyline, so the hero hates women because he wants to reenact primordial scenes. However, it is also highly creative. It is written in subtle alexandrines for example, which might work to awaken us to something virtual.

In his earlier novel (Jerusalem, Jerusalem) a young poor woman becomes a cult figure, religion emerges from what is everyday and banal. In both cases, a sanctification develops from 'a flash of intensity' (73) in what is everyday, including a tendency to reduce everything down to the common denominator in the everyday.

Roger's language works in this way, bearing intensity but still threatened by mechanisms of everyday words [an example follows]. Sometimes writing works in the opposite direction to profane and vulgarize [the mechanism often involves a character with a dignified aristocratic name doing something awful, a reverse of style, but one which also alludes to its inverse of sanctification.

We can use the term Epiphany to describe this process. There is a Joycean notion in some examples [Wikipedia says that in his collection, Epiphanies, Joyce uses the term almost as a Freudian slip, to indicate the true character revealed in some incident]. Deleuze suggests that Proust is another 'precursor'. Roger offers new dimensions, where the person itself becomes an epiphany, becoming a transcendent entity or even an Event, a multiplicity of events ['an event of the order of love' (75)]. The character becomes depersonalized and this is the 'visceral' impact of the novel.

[Details of the storyline follow. A female character inspires the crimes as an act of love. Both the female character and the narrator are bisexual, each in search of the primordial act. This is its mundane storyline, but the characters also display an intensity which hints at a different story.

Another author, Trost [pass -- could be Dolfi Trost, the surrealist poet who invented/developed entopic graphomania?], also deals with epiphanies of strange young women, one of whom has 'a supple machine body with multiple degrees of freedom' (76). She was seen as an abstract line, 'the blueprint of a human group to come' who would oppose the difference of the sexes and an order based on it. There is also a rejection of conventional psychoanalysis with its notion of desire as a loss, the role of the nuclear family and so. The character is self-destructive but opposed to the death drive: 'she was the young woman machine of n sexes: Miss Arkadin, Ulrike von Kleist' (77) [Arkadin presumably refers to the Orson Welles film, but I must look up Ulrike von Kleist -- apparently, she was the half- sister of Heinrich and always travelled in men's clothing].

The female character in Rogers is also every sex, embracing every sexuality, 'including the nonhuman and the vegetable'. What we see via the epiphany is 'the eruption of an intense multiplicity, which finds itself reduced, crushed by the distribution of the sexes and one's assignment is either one or the other'. It is not only biology but 'a whole social mechanism destined to reduce her to the demands of marriage and reproduction' (78).

The girls lead, but the boys follow 'to undergo an inverse and symmetrical reduction'. What we have here is an argument that 'there is only one sex, the female sex, but there is only one sexuality, male sexuality, which takes women as its object'[underpins all the stuff about the priority of becoming woman?]. Female sexuality simply corresponds to male chauvinism. The real difference is between the actual states of the multiplicity and whether or not it has been thoroughly reduced to conventional sexes. The epiphany in Rogers, or the machine in Trost opposes reductive mechanism, just like the 'intense proper name that embraces a multiplicity'.

Chapter 8 four propositions on psychoanalysis

'Psychoanalysis stifles the production of desire'(79). It no longer operates only in psychiatric hospitals but everywhere in society including in 'schools and institutions'. It always talks about the unconsciousness, but this only reduces it. It is thought of as a negative of consciousness, a parasite, an enemy, and the production of the unconscious is a form of failure, the result of 'idiotic conflict, lame compromise, or obscene wordplay' (80). You are successful only by sublimating or de-sexualising, not as the result of any positive desire. There are too many desires already, and what is required is to be taught about 'Lack, Culture, and Law, in other words the reduction and abolition of desire'.

This repression arises from the practice of psychoanalysis, the interpretation it pursues. We see this perhaps best in Freud on fellatio — the penis stands for cows' udders which stands for the maternal breast: it can never be a true desire. True desires are infantile impulses, structured overall by Oedipus. Any actual assemblage of desire is promptly to be undone and referred back to these partial impulses or overall structures. Many sexual activities are thus understood, as infantile, perverse, not a true desire.

However Freud's formulation should be reversed. The unconscious is to be produced not the conscious, it is to be understood as 'a milieu of experimentation'(81). This activity is not easy to reproduce, it is 'social and political space which must be won', and a revolution is often required. It is not just revealed by slips of the tongue or whatever. There is neither the subject nor the object of desire. Desire is far more a matter of flows of 'a-signifying signs' in a particular social and historical field. Such desire always tests the established order and is therefore revolutionary. It always seeks new connections. Psychoanalysis seeks to discipline it — 'it hates desire and it hates politics' (82). We must produce the unconscious as the expression of desires, the formation of utterances, 'the substance or material of intensities'.

Secondly, 'psychoanalysis impedes the formation of utterances'. The assemblages produced by desire and utterances are the same [both machinic]. Such assemblages feature becomings and intensities, 'intensive circulations', multiplicities of every kind. In their expression they use indefinite terms but which are not indeterminate 'some stomachs, an eye'; infinitives which refer to processes such as 'to walk, to fuck, to shit'; proper names, which are not
persons but can be groups or animals or singularities [singularities seem to be entirely written in capital letters as in A HANS HORSE- BECOMING]. Signs or utterances always connote multiplicities or guide flows of desire. A collective machine assemblage produces desire as well as collective utterances. Whatever has desire 'is expressed as an IT, the "it" of the event, the indefinite of the infinitive proper name' [ wha?]. This "it" is ''a  semiotic articulation of chains of expression' with unformalised intensive contents. According to Guattari, "it" does not represent a subject but 'diagrams an assemblage' and in this way, we can resist the 'tyranny of semiotic constellations known as significant' [in other words familiar forms of expression and utterance].

One way to control this is to insist that the IT should be understood as an expressing subject on the one hand which codes everything and stands outside any utterances, and a subject of utterance in the form of personal pronouns. This helps the flow of desire to be managed by 'an imperialist signifying system', a world of mental representations with no particular intensities or connections to them. The 'fictitious expressing subject' becomes 'an absolute I', the cause of utterances attached to personal pronouns. Those already have places in hierarchies and stratifications and participate in 'capitalist exchange', nullifying any actual relationship with proper names [the singularity Dave Harris becomes a mere I]. This speaking as I prevents you from speaking in your own name — an abstract subject is doing the expression, related to other subjects, and this breaks the assemblage of desire. The subject of utterance become the expressing subject and are rendered as a result 'docile and sad' (83). [High powered critique of the author here too, of course -- why autoethnographers are so docile and sad?]

We find this procedure in psychoanalysis, but it actually belongs to the democratic state apparatus, where the legislator becomes the subject, and is connected to the whole notion of the cogito. However, psychoanalysis has a therapeutic practice. The patient is treated as an expressing subject, to be psycho analysed and interpreted, but is also a subject of utterance in terms of their own desires and activities. These are then interpreted in such a way that the original expressing subject can be 'foisted on' the subject of utterance, whatever the patient wanted to say or had desired. This can be seen with child therapy in France, where actual children in concrete activities are eventually reduced to 'the ready-made, standard utterances which are expected of a child' (84). This is castration!

The patient actually has no chance of speaking. Psychoanalysis is designed to stop them speaking, which we can see with the case studies of children below. Psychoanalysis starts with 'ready-made collective utterances, Oedipal in nature', which are then to be discovered in some personal subject of utterance, with no other possibilities from the start.

We should work the other way around as in schizo analysis, beginning with personal utterances and trying to work out how they have been produced in machinic assemblages of desire and collective assemblages of utterance. These 'transverse the subject and circulate within it' (85). They take the form of 'multiplicities, packs, mobs, masses of elements of very different orders, haunting the subject and populating it' [technological or sociological understandings are explicitly rejected]. 'There is no expressing subject. There are only utterance producing assemblages'.

In the critique of Oedipus they met lots of stupid objections about Oedipus as symbolic or signifier, but what matters is the practice of psychoanalysis and the use they make of Oedipus. If anything, the 'partisans of the signifier' are the worst offenders, so that it is impossible to say anything without being interpreted [ groupe hippy becomes gros pipi]. Assemblages of desire are replaced by an understanding of persons. There can be no separate grasp of desire or sexuality apart from Oedipus, thus 'psychoanalysis is the murder of souls' and the longer it goes on the less the patient has any opportunity to speak.

The third proposition is about how utterances are crushed and desire destroyed. There is a twofold machine at work — an 'interpretation machine' translating whatever the patient says into another language, a paranoid regime where every sign refers to another sign, perpetually expanding so that signifiers refer to a signified which then splits back into signifiers, perpetuating psychoanalytic discourse 'ad infinitum' (86). There is also machine of subjectivation, tracing signifiers back to subjects, especially the psychoanalyst. Signs then follow a linear path, taking part in the foisting of expressing subjects discussed above.

There are whole regimes of interpretation, of course where emperors are complemented by interpreters. There are regimes of subjectivation at work in capitalism as a whole. Psychoanalysis offers the best penetration of these two systems, in the form of '"the subjectivation of the id"'. The combination prevents any real experimentation or production of desire or utterances. Psychoanalysis did not invent interpretation and subjectivation, but they did find ways to maintain and propagate them.

Fourthly, psychoanalysis involves power relations. We see this in transference, but this is not the real source. Instead, it is based on the 'liberal bourgeois form of the contract' (87): even the silence of the analyst is a part of the contract. However there is another form of contract silently at work, which converts the libidinal flows of the patient into manageable productions like dreams or fantasies. These become 'exchangeable and divisible'. The power of the psychoanalyst lies in these conversion and as with all power, the point is to manage the production of desire in the formation of utterances, 'to neutralise the libido'.

Guattari and he are not interested in trying to combine Freud and Marx. Such a project would imply a return to sacred texts, but the point is to look at the actual situation as it now stands, the bureaucratic apparatus in the CP and in psychoanalysis. Both Marxism and psychoanalysis operate with memory [of their founding concepts] which is to be developed, but D and G advocate a positive forgetting, focusing on our own underdevelopment, and advocating a kind of experimentation. Marxists and Freudians try to reconcile two economies, political and libidinal, but D and G think there is only one economy, where unconscious desire sexually invests the forms of this economy.

Chapter 9 The interpretation of utterances [clearer at last on Little Hans and becoming-horse]

[Follows on from the above. This is a more detailed analysis of the discussion of children in Freud and Klein, pursued by D, G, Parnet and a certain Andre Scala in an early session. The layout is a bit misleading, organized into two columns, with the left one allegedly relating what the child said and the right one what they psychotherapist made of it. In fact the left column — summarized first in these notes — is already an interpretation of what the child said according to D, G and the others. In the case of Little Hans, there are no direct sayings of course — I'm not sure about Little Richard] 

Hans wants to go downstairs to meet his girlfriend and sleep with her, 'a movement of deterritorialization' (90). His parents react poorly and bring him back, so Hans understands that there is a problem with little girls and transfers attention to a woman in the restaurant [sounds a bit like Proust]. Hans attempts another deterritorialization by crossing the street. His parents insist that he comes to their own bed [presumably if he needs a change], an artificial form of Oedipus. His mother is able to regulate his attempts to gain pleasure from her touching him.

Comment. Apparently, Freud simply could not believe that Hans desired a little girl, and knew nothing of deterritorialization. The family was the only valid territory and anything else could only represent it. Wanting to go downstairs to meet his girlfriend was therefore only a substitute for a desire for the mother, and or an attempt to bring the girlfriend back into the family.

Hans never actually feared someone would cut off his penis and was rather indifferent to the threat. His interest in the penis was as a pee maker, a function. Obviously girls and women have a pee maker too. There is a unity of a plane of consistency or composition, 'the univocity of being and desire' (92). The different combinations of types and functions indicates the notion of a multiplicity or machinic assemblage. This provides the possibility of n sexes not just two. Children get reduced to one sex and lose this machinic sense, which can cause depression. This happens first with little girls. It is about the theft of sexes not losing the penis.

Comment. Psychoanalysis becomes theological. There is only one sex and then analogies develop so that the clitoris would be the analogue of the penis. Or there are two sexes, which permits a definite feminine sexuality based on the vagina, but this time an analogy develops at the level of homology, so that the phallus becomes a signifier. This also engages the full weight of structural linguistics in support. However, in a way it doesn't really matter whether we think of ordinary analogies or scientific commodities — all are theoretical 'and only exist in the psychoanalyst's mind' (92). This helps bind desire together with castration and reduce sexuality to the difference between the sexes, instead of a broader desire or libido. Children think differently, univocally with different connections and positions, machine functions rather than organic or structural functions. This is 'the only atheist thought, the thought of the child' (93). Univocity also brings a notion of multiple assemblages into which material enters, n sexes which can be represented by horses or locomotives. Sexuality always provides an excess extending beyond the mere difference between the sexes. Conventional definitions in effect steal this flexibility from men and women by restricting their relation to the 'omnisexual, the multi-sexed' (94). The difference between girls and boys are that girls are the first ones to be robbed in this way. Feminism that demands rights for specific feminine sexuality are 'radically mistaken', and should be demanding that all the sexes return to this original state of girlhood before the theft.

[Still comment]. Freud misunderstands infantile sexuality, especially its indifference to conventional sexual differences, which he sees as a belief in the possession of an inferior penis in girls, based on castration anxiety. Castration anxiety arises after the reduction to a single sex, however. N sexes 'correspond to all the possible arrangements into which the materials common to girls and boys enter but also those common to animals, things' (95). The difference between girls and boys is not related to the different types of castration they are threatened with in families. Freudian theory here becomes superstition or theology. This prevents Freud from interpreting adequately or even hearing what the child says — he openly notes that what the interpreter does is to transform unconscious complexes into conscious awareness.

[Back to what Hans allegedly says]. The family reterritorializes Little Hans. He tries to take the family as something machinic, functioning, but his parents and Freud reminds him that these people are agents of desire and representatives of the law, standing for important functions. He develops the symptom of being afraid to go out in the street in case a horse bites him, because the street, which was what he wanted, was heavily forbidden. The horse is not to be taken as an analogy or homology, but as an element in an assemblage, 'the street–horse–omnibus–load assemblage' (97). The horse has a list of affects depending on which assemblage it occupies — 'being blinded, having a bit, being proud, having a big pee maker, large haunches for making dung, biting, pulling... Falling, making a hullabaloo with its legs'. It is not simply representative. The problem is to see how these affects circulate in horses, how they transform into each other, how they become, and in particular how they become relevant for Little Hans ['the becoming horse of little Hans']. For example if a horse is able to bite, must it go through falling or making a hullabaloo with its feet first? What is possible for a horse? [And therefore what is possible for him, once all the human paths were closed off by his parents, once he was forbidden to go onto the street. This is why people want to become horse, not just to understand them but to experience their affects].

Comment. Both the father and Freud insist that the horse represents something else, something limited — the mother, the father or the phallus, always represented by whichever animal. Freud ignores any affects delivered by, say, seeing a horse fall and being beaten back to its feet, showing a possibly unique form of determination. The simple similarities are developed by the example of the similarity to the father's spectacles and moustache. Freud ignores the circulation of intensities in favour of static analogies, so all the qualities of the horse are condensed into simple images. Hans notes that it is more complicated, that having a pee maker does not mean having to bite, but father rejects this complication. Freud is worse, and wants to deliberately reduce everything to the family, not even disclosing his intent to the parents. He wants to stop all movements toward deterritorialization, all exercise of libido and sexuality, all becomings. Freud wants to worry the lad, make him guilty and depressed. Freud never understands libido, especially the libido of animals.

[Back to Hans]. Of course Hans is afraid by the implications of becoming an animal. It is a serious matter, and there are obvious elements of repression in becoming horse — being domesticated, exposed to brutality, a loss of power. This only turns into anxiety after interpretation by family or psychoanalysis. Is biting a triumphant act or a reaction to being beaten? If Hans becomes horse, will he develop the street as a line of flight, or will he see the real reason for family discipline? Becoming animal is an excessive or 'superior' deterritorialization, pushing desire to its limit, where desire realizes the need for repression. This is not like the Freudian scheme where desire represses itself [far too early].

Comment. Freud interprets the machinic assemblage as having three parts — the horse becomes sequentially mother, father, and phallus. Anxiety is also produced sequentially – first it is a matter of missing one's mother in the street, then of being bitten by a horse, connected to paternal punishment, then, finally reducing the threatening, strong assemblage of the horse into family territory. Family members are to strengthen their roles – the mother must move towards the father, and the father towards the phallus. There is no autonomous power for mothers, even if they dominate [because they are becoming phallocentrism. Fathers must draw power from the phallus if proper structural control is to be exerted, and this brings with it a need to socialise castration, so that desire represses itself. Desire can no longer 'bear "intensities"' (100). Apparently Freud was still thinking about hysteria, where intensities have to be controlled, immobilised, understood as symbolic and therefore made redundant. Desire has to be made to repress itself by experiencing its object as loss or lack. Once or this interpretation takes place, Freud only has to wait for the child to agree. All irony and humour [some possessed by the child] are squeezed out of the analysis in favour of 'extreme tedium... Monomaniacal interpretation, the self-satisfaction of the parents and the Professor' (101). Hans finally has to conform and resign himself 'just so they leave him alone'.

[ I know the case of Little Richard only indirectly. I've focused on the criticisms of Klein here. Note that other bits of D&G are less than totally critical. Guattari's Three Ecologies explores the partial object, rather obscurely. Deleuze's Logic of Sense explains the issue of depression or paranoia as reactions to the threats of the external world intruding on the private world of the child. Here, these innovations are rapidly brought back to conformity with conventional Oedipus after all.]

Richard seems to be very interested in political events and wars and thinks in terms of assemblages again -- of countries, ships, means of transport (also seen as functioning machines with lots of combinations etc). The representations seem to carry some erotic charge. [It is not clear how this depiction of the world as empire exhibits itself in paranoia/schizophrenia]. Klein insists on interpreting everything back into familial terms and trying to break Richard's resistance to her interpretations (some of which involve irony). Eventually she gets him to agree with her and assume a more manageable type of depressive response to family authority. His affects have to be interpreted as fantasies. Ultimately his utterances will be prevented by breaking the collective assemblages which generate them.

The interpretations seem a bit basic — Hitler wants to hurt Mama and therefore he is the bad father, the connections on the map represent the sexual relations between the parents, the English port being entered by the German cruiser must be mother's genital organs, the colours used to draw the map are understood as family members [all these are really representations of affects]. The overall process is 'worse than being trapped in school, in the family or in the media'(106). Even the notion of a partial object only reinforces familialism and Oedipus — they become fantasies after all. Klein openly moralizes, this time borrowing the concepts from the school rather than the family: the family is used only to ward off any other 'libidinal investment' from the outside. Partial objects might open to concepts like multiplicity, segmentation, assemblage and 'social polycentrism' (107) but here, they are understood as partial, having become detached from any assemblages, and thus as requiring to be restored to some organic totality, 'a signifying structure, a subjective or personological integrity', even if that will only emerge as the child matures and progresses through the cure. Note 12, p. 393 says Klein is substituting the idea of organs without a body for the Organless Body]

[Then a third case, of which I know nothing, Agnes, treated by a certain Hochmann and Andre. Agnes appears to suffer from epileptic fits which coincide with her period. She sees these as showing diminished bodily functioning and wants to be fixed. Her notion of the body is organic, not one filled with organs acting like tools. Her conception of sexuality involves a rejection of conventional female organs in favour of machinic differences, so that lots of things can be sexual. She sees puberty as a matter of being damaged or having the body stolen. The family is also a machinic assemblage with possibilities for deterritorialization away from the family home — for example towards the public school 'where her brother and sister used to be' (110). She sees affects circulating through the family assemblage but in terms of the indefinite article — 'a belly, a mouth, an engine'

The example apparently shows us that psychoanalysis can operate with privileged sectors, not just the family or the hospital or clinic but the socius itself. Agnes is taken out of public school and then ends in a free clinic until visited by a team of psychotherapists in her home. They reduce everything to a matter of organs and struggles over [understandings of] them, although the actual organ at stake appears to vary, to tjheir bewilderment. Nevertheless, everything turns in the end on 'the differences between the sexes, castration, and the lost object'(109).

Agnes becomes violent in response, mostly because she is told that she never speaks for herself and is just not heard. She gets her revenge by deliberately manipulating the psychotherapist. She experiences being trapped by family school and socius, but sees the essential factor as psychotherapy. Psychotherapy has been responsible for reducing her notion of sexuality to the basic difference between the sexes, to the idea of one mother instead of n [seen here as 'materials capable of transformation']. She is really endlessly complaining about these thefts.

Chapter 10 The rise of the social

[This is about the book on the family by Donzelot]

'The social' refers to a particular modern sector, [somewhere between civil society and welfare institutions] that deals with special cases and social problems. This is recently formed and rather strange, arising in the 18th or 19th centuries. For Donzelot, a key institution was the so-called children's tribunal, fairly minor reform but with lots of implications, the growth of experts and a judicial apparatus for example.

The social sector is able to retain autonomy with its new categories, for example new distinctions of rich and poor, new interweavings of public and private. It is not that these developments simply express an ideology, more how it relates to other sectors and intersects or reworks them, organizing a new field.

Donzelot proceeds by talking about pure and short examples to show the characteristics of the new domain, the social is an intersection of all of these, operating on its main milieu — the family. The family has its own forms of development, but it needs to combine with other vectors. It is not just a matter of a crisis in the family, which arises only from these new intersections: it is more about the policing of families, a term chosen to avoid both social determinist and moral analysis.

The method proceeds by 'engraving', showing how the new scene appears in a given framework, how the Children's Court emerged, or how the philanthropic visit became institutionalised. We then need to trace the consequences and identify new functions. The method is therefore 'genealogical, functional and strategic' (115) with an obvious debt to Foucault.

The analysis then takes the form of a musical analogy [Deleuze's?]. First a bass line is established, a general critique or attack, say on nurses and domesticity, but this is already bifurcated into a critique according to the wealth of the family — the poor are rebuked because an unsound political economy leads them to abandon their own children and their own self-sufficiency, while the rich develop a kind of 'private hygiene', excessively focused on the domestic, including domestic education.

Then a second line appears with the growing autonomy of conjugal relations rather than more general family ones. Even the old family alliances are now to prepare people for conjugal life, marriage as an end in itself, concerned the descendants. In this way, conjugality becomes itself socially coded, with a new an important role for older female relatives. Again there are differences according to wealth — the poor woman focuses on husband and children, while richer women exercise a wider social role including a missionary role in charities.

The third line arises when conjugal families themselves evolve away from paternal head of household morality and authority. Divorce, abortion, parental destitution are signs. This has a subjective impact on changing conventional family relations which regulated families. New subjective drives also emerge [personal fulfilment?] and this in turn produces a new arrangement of aid and dependency, direct interventions, for example legislation on child labour, or the encouragement of private investment, in an attempt to make 'the industrial sphere a "moral civilisation"' (117). Families become praised for saving social order and also simultaneously critiqued for exploiting women and children. There is also a struggle between neoliberal and social Democrat notions of the state — 'two poles of the strategy on the same line', ending in a hybrid arrangement of public and private.

The fourth line brings in the medical field in the formation of public hygiene, including psychiatric hygiene. Again we find a hybrid form — private medicine but also increasing state intervention, and these can produce opposition and tension. The nature of the state was also once contested [Donzelot apparently discusses anarchists agitating for a stronger state]. Again we see the effects on the family on the development of different schools of parenting or family planning, for example — these show complex relations between statements and policies, sometimes apparently contradictory ones.

The final line involve psychoanalysis. The history of psychoanalysis has suffered from 'intimist anecdotes' (119), largely about Freud and the others, but this simply reflects its history, initially formed in private relationships and only rather recently intruding into public sectors. Donzelot argues that there was early hybridisation, and that state involvement was a main factor in the success of psychoanalysis: in France, it took hold in 'semipublic sectors'like family planning. Again there is no easy split between neoliberal Freud and say Marxist Reich.

Psychoanalysts are not like social workers authorised by the state, but what is revealed is still the early tension between judicial and psychiatric orders, the requirements of the state and psychiatric criteria. Initially, there seem to be no rules of equivalency and translation, and psychoanalysis found itself in a state of floatation, rather like a floating currency, perhaps with some underlying system of general regulation. Donzelot compares Freud and Keynes, and sees the importance of money in psychoanalysis as a kind of general regulation. Psychoanalysis developed in this particular way unlike ordinary psychiatry because it precisely addressed public norms and private principles, expert appraisals, tests and memories, and proposed mechanisms of displacement condensation and symbolisation.

This had the effect of acting as if all the social relationships we have discussed above were aspects of an underlying law, depending on basic relationships and equivalences. However, the challenge came from the idea of the social as more flexible, based on norms rather than laws, regulations rather than fixed standards. This makes psychoanalysis only one mechanism among others, although it has 'permeated all the other mechanisms, even when it disappears or combines with them' (121).

So overall we have a map of the social formed by these various lines. It takes a modern hybrid form, with both desires and powers, controls but also resistance and liberation. Even '"having a room to oneself" [a deliberate reference to Woolf?] Is both a desire and a control. Regulatory mechanisms are never adequate and there is always some overflow. Donzelot's account shows the way in which the pursuit of these ideas might be followed.

Chapter 11. Desire and pleasure

[An important essay on differences with Foucault]

In Discipline and Punish, the notion of power has great significance for the radical left in moving away from series of the state. It also allowed Foucault to go beyond the problem of dualist discursive and non-discursive formations in Archaeology: these formations are distributed and articulated, related [by systems of power?]. Power relies neither on repression nor an ideology, but on normalisation and discipline.

Power forms 'are diffused, heterogeneous multiplicity or micro arrangements' (122) but also a diagram or abstract machine 'immanent to the whole social field' (123) as in panoptican. This gets us beyond mere dissemination and articulation.

In The Will to Knowledge, power arrangements no longer just normalise but constitute practices, as in sexuality. They offer truth as well as just bodies of knowledge, and they have a positive function, especially in sexuality. However, there is a danger of a return to a 'constituting subject', and there are dangers with reviving the notion of truth, even if it is limited to 'the truth of power', and further explanation is required.

The relation between micro and macro, first established in Discipline is not one of size, nor is there any actual dualism: micro arrangements are 'immanent to the state apparatus, and segments of the state apparatus also penetrate micro arrangements — a complete immanence of the two dimensions' (124). Nor is it just a matter of scale. Instead we have a difference between strategy and tactics, but this is a problem because micro arrangements can also be strategic, especially if they are linked to the diagram of power. It is possible to see power as determining the micro, but this is not been developed so far. A heterogeneity persists between micro and macro. This helps reject the idea that it is the state that is miniaturised in the micro, but the problem still remains with miniaturising power, which is also a global concept.

Assemblages of desire, developed with Guattari, might help overcome the problem of using power to explain the micro. Desire is never natural or spontaneous, and assemblages like feudalism seem 'totally crazy' although they exist historically. Desire circulates in heterogeneous assemblages, as a symbiosis. Assemblages of desire can include power arrangements, but these should be seen as different components of the assemblage. It is better to distinguish states of being and enunciation on one axis, equivalent to Foucault's types of formation or multiplicity, while examining territoriality and reterritorialization on the other axis. Power surfaces with reterritorialization, as a component. However assemblages also include points of deterritorialization, so power is disseminated according to the dimensions of assemblages. Power is connected to desire, but 'desire comes first' and is a necessary element of any analysis of the micro.

We can agree that there is no ideology nor repression, since both statements and utterances on the one hand and assemblages of desire on the other always exceed them. However power arrangements also seem vague and ambiguous. Perhaps they 'encode and reterritorialize' rather than normalise and discipline. They work to alter assemblages of desire rather than to operate on desire directly. Thus sexuality is limited to actual normal sex, and psychoanalysis plays a key part here. Sexuality itself is 'an historically variable assemblage of desire' with all sorts of points of deterritorialization, flux and combination, but it is reduced to a 'molar agency'[conventional sexual difference. The effect if not the actual means is repressive, dividing some possibilities of the assemblage into fantasies or shameful social practices. Repression here is seen as a dimensional of collective assemblages rather than as a constant operation to crack down on spontaneity].

Similarly, we cannot reduce the social field to a standard contradiction, which already implies 'a complicity of contradictories' to produce, say the two class system. Rather than contradictions, society produces different strategies for Foucault. But this still 'leaks out on all sides' in the form of lines of flight, and these are primary — they constitute the social field as a rhizome or cartography, and they produce deterritorialization in assemblages of desire. Thus in feudalism, flights lines are [pre-] supposed and the same for difference historical developments, including capitalism. Flight lines are not always revolutionary, but they are addressed by power arrangements, sealed off, as we see with the 11th century instability, produced by invasion groups, migrations, urbanisation, the appearance of systems of money, differences in systems of love and so on. Strategy comes second to these flight lines and how they are connected. They also show the primacy of desire which is 'indistinguishable' from lines of flight (128).

This analysis replaces Foucault's view that power is confronted only by 'resistance phenomena'. Foucault insist that these are not just imaginary, but their status is unclear. They might be just the reverse image of arrangements of power, but this is too abstract and leads nowhere. Another direction might lie with thinking of power arrangements as constituents of truth, where the notion of a complete truth can be a counter strategy, turned against power itself [rather in the way that the young Hegelianism turned Hegel against the Prussian state?], but this is still not clear in Foucault. The third possibility lies in the ways in which pleasure takes on power, but this is still not yet clear.

The notion of historically determined flight lines does not appear in Foucault, but they can be a way of overcoming the problem of resistance phenomena — lines of flight both determine power arrangements [and also their limits]. It is not just something confined to those on the fringes of society, the mad, the perverted, or the drugged. These groups do not create lines of flight which are instead 'objective lines that cut across a society' although marginal groups can be located on them. However, everything escapes from existing social arrangements, 'everything is deterritorialized' [which is surely an overprediction of social change?]. Here the intellectual and the political problem diverge in theory between Foucault and Deleuze [ref to their debate about the role of intellectuals in politics]

Foucault confessed that he can't stand the word desire, which always implies lack or repression. Perhaps his use of the term pleasure will be better, but Deleuze has his doubts. For him desire does not involve lack it is not natural, it is a part of an assemblage a process, an affect 'as opposed to a feeling'(130). It is a 'haecceity — the individual singularity of a day, a season, a life. As opposed to a subjectivity, it is an event not a thing or a person'.

This in turn implies the notion of the field of immanence, in this case, a body without organs, 'only defined by zones of intensity, thresholds, degrees and fluxes'. This particular body is biological as well as collective and political and it displays assemblages and how they are made and unmade. It also 'bears the offshoots of deterritorialization of assemblages or flight lines'. It varies, say between the BwOs of  feudalism and capitalism, but it opposes all strata including the organism's organisation: body organisations break the field of immanence and impose upon desire another kind of plane or stratum.

Pleasure is not a positive value, but another interruption to the imminent process of desire. It is on the side of strata and organisation, it submits to the law and regulation. This also explains the interest in Foucault for Sade, compared to the interest in Deleuze for Masoch, who is interested in the notion that pleasure interrupts desire and its field of immanence [hence the need to delay the organism]. In courtly love there is also a plane of immanence where desire is not focused, and pleasures which interrupt it are ignored. Opting for pleasures is a form of reterritorialization, and this is how desire is made to exhibit lack and to conform to norms. [These examples appear n a condensed way in ATP, of course]

Foucault is right to say that power arrangements are directly related to bodies, but he needs more detail about how this works, to impose an organisation on a BwO, how all aspects of biopower reterritorialize the body.

Are there are equivalences between the positions? Perhaps the distinction between body and fleshing Foucault is the same as the one between the BwO and the normal body? [Apparently discussed in Will referring to how life itself involves resistance, through suggesting a kind of immanence behind all the determined assemblages. DH Lawrence also discusses this, it seems, but overemphasises positive flight lines]

The problem for Foucault remains preserving the value of microanalysis while still operating with some kind of 'principle of unification', which is not the state or the party [I think the same problem arises for Deleuze and Guattari with all their emphasis on heterogeneity].

In Discipline we have both the micro arrangements of power and the abstract machine or diagram covering the whole field. The micro disciplines are supposed to be one kind of connection, and the biopolitical emphasis the other. Perhaps the diagram unifies the micro through the biopolitical? The same problem goes when discussing resistance or lines of flight, comparing the heterogeneity with processes of unification. Again we can see that the field of immanence on which assemblages appear also acts as a kind of 'veritable diagram' (133). We need to try to discover this diagram and its implementation, in particular how it operates with lines and points of deterritorialization.

The notion of a war machine is one example, remembering that it describes neither the state nor military institutions. While the state is a molar apparatus organising micro elements of a diagram, the war machine diagrams lines of flight, producing micro elements as a plane of immanence. We will need to contrast 'a kind of transcendent plane of organisation' to the 'immanent plane of assemblages', but this would only revive the problem [of their relation]. We seem to be left with a problem with Foucault [and Deleuze in my view].

[In an additional note] the two states of the plane or diagram engage in historical confrontations but in diverse forms. The plane of organisation itself is hidden, but [only] everything which is visible appears on it. The plane of immanence has only degrees of speed and slowness rather than development, and everything is seen and heard. The first plane is linked to the state but not identical, while the second is a 'dreamlike war machine'. Writers about nature also invoke different types of plane [Holderlin in Hyperion and Kleist go for the immanent plane]. There are similarly two types of intellectual interests, which we find in music as well. Power knowledge in Foucault implies a plane or diagram of the first type, while his counter powers are really related to war machines and another type, including all kinds of minor knowledge and knowledge linked to lines of resistance.

  Chapter 12. The rich Jew

A recent film has been accused of anti-Semitism, although Deleuze can find no examples of it in the film. The characters seem to all display intense fear of the future, while the Jewish character displays 'an indifference towards destiny' (136) [probably some allusion to finding some other source of comfort or grace].

It is hard to find any anti-Semitism, unless it is the actual words '"rich Jew"', but we should not think about banning that term altogether, although some people have declared that it must indicate anti-Semitism. This is an example of how 'new fascisms are being born' (137), a matter of building on petty fears and anxieties so that we stifle every suspicion 'every dissonant voice' (138). [pretty good account of modern moral panics about ethnic identities].

Chapter 13. On the New Philosophers (plus a more general problem)

[It is in interview format]

Deleuze thinks there are two problems with the new philosophers: they operate with very large and general concepts, and they tend to stress the important role of the individual thinker, the expressing subject, and this goes against a lot of recent work to develop very fine concepts 'to escape gross dualisms', and to find creative functions which are not just author functions. Together these trends are reactionary, and may have some connection with a recent proposal to offer 'a significant streamlining of the philosophical curriculum' (140).

Levy in particular has attacked AO because he sees some connection with drug addiction, which is amusing, and has also argued that one of Guattari's organizations is racist. They are always attacking and counter-attacking, and largely not worth responding to, except this once.

They have been successful, however, partly due to the system of fashionable literary schools. These schools have been largely a waste of time, mostly preserving themselves and policing their members. The new philosophers should be seen more in terms of successful marketing, getting the book talked about, focusing more on supportive articles and TV appearances, and offering different versions of the same book 'so as to appeal to everyone' (141). The last proper school was that of Sollers, but even he has recently turned towards marketing philosophy books through a revived author system and empty concepts.

The popularity of new philosophy has partly arisen because of the increased awareness of the power of journalism to produce stories such as Watergate, or leaks. Journalism refers to actual external events 'less and less, since it already creates many of them' (142). It offers 'an autonomous and sufficient thought within itself' [BBC journalism to a tee!]. This is why newspaper articles written about books or interviews with philosophers have become more important than books, and why intellectuals are forced to become journalists. It began with television and the willing cooperation of intellectuals, but intellectuals are no longer needed. In a way, this is a consequence of abandoning the author function — radio and television and journalism can become the new authors.

France has also been in a permanent state of election mode, and this has organized the coverage of events as well as 'elevated the usual level of bullshit' (144). New philosophy has developed on this grid despite the actual opinions it offers — sometimes they were united in particular causes, including 'the hatred of May 68'. This is perfect for current notions of electoral politics, in that it argues that revolution is now impossible everywhere and always, and potentially critical concepts including power and resistance have been globalized and watered-down. Now the only possibility is the thinking subject, as long as the thinker 'thinks revolution as impossible'

There is even the new martyrology, 'the gulag and the victims of history'. They adopt the witness function, which fits together nicely with the author and thinker. Of course the victims do not think or speak at all like the new philosophers, and are not morbid, bitter or vain. As a result, victims could only be simply duped, unable to realize the impossibility of change.

It is not just a matter of choosing between marketing or the old style of writing books, and modern intellectuals, including musicians or painters are trying to organize particular encounters rather than go to conferences or debates, encountering people in some other discipline rather than developing comparisons and analogies, real intersections of lines of research. One example is to revive the history of philosophy with computers, not to acquire a mathematical solution, but to identify sequences that can be combined with other sequences.

Modern intellectual activity including artistic and scholarly variants cannot be generalized under the old terms like Science. It is now a matter of encountering singular points as the source of creation, creative functions not author functions. Disciplinary as well as interdisciplinary work displays such encounters, producing new assemblages and new uses for them. The author function by contrast develops as a matter of conformity, promotion, as we see in the contrast between creative film and the conformist use of film, or rather the conflict between film and the powerfully conformist television. New philosophy by contrast has turned its back on politics and experiment, and have permitted a reactionary relation between the book and the press: they are new but they are also conformist.

They are not even specifically relevant themselves, because the market will throw up alternative vectors for its function. Thought is submitted to the media, although it offers it a kind of 'minimum intellectual guarantee' (147), including feeling secure about the absence of any proper creation. Intellectuals should now refuse the blandishments of the media, become producers themselves instead of accepting the limited author function on offer — 'only the insolence of domestics or the brilliance of the hired clown' [even worse in the UK -- hopelessly waffling nerd or agreeable 'expert']. They should operate like Beckett and Godard, and build on the many possibilities still available. New philosophy is an attempt to stifle all that.

Chapter 14. Europe the wrong way.

[About the Baader – Meinhoff case]

The German government has requested an extradition of the French lawyer acting on their behalf. He is accused of maintaining a relationship with terrorists and of giving details of the state of the detention of the prisoners. There are clear political motives. The broader issue is that the German government is now in a good position to impose its particular policy 'of repression' on other European and African governments. The French press have simply copied German pieces on this issue, and some have proposed killing prisoners deliberately in response to terrorism.

On the ideological front, the German government and press have tried to equate the RAF with the Nazis, whose leaders also killed themselves 'out of devotion to a demonic choice' (150). What seem to be required is some version of the Nuremberg tribunal, and some more absurd affiliations of these suggested between Baader and Hitler. Instead we need proof of accusations [how bourgeois liberal]. This might be the start of a broader campaign throughout Europe.

Chapter 15 Two Questions on Drugs

Talking about drugs has been dominated by either 'extrinsic causalities' (151) like sociological considerations, or by discussions of pleasures, although these often 'presuppose the drug'. What is needed is a 'specific causality'.

What this will involve is the mapping of a 'drug – set' which referred to both internal characteristics of drugs and to more general causalities. The parallel here would be psychoanalysis that attempted to link things like neuroses or dreams to underlying mechanisms, specifically the role of desire in producing 'mnesic traces and affects'. That eventually fell prey to mystification is of its own, and is notably unable to explain drug phenomena.

As an example of the new problems, the question is how desire 'directly invests the system of perception' (152), especially space-time perception. At one stage there was some early investigation of these issues, including Castenada. These investigations changed the role of perception altogether. It would be worth pursuing chemical research although not of the scientistic kind. Overall, the work promised to explain both the effects of [recreational] drugs and of therapeutics, but it seems to have lapsed as a research topic in France.

Another question might concern itself with that crucial turning point in drug use. At first, drug users create 'active lines of flight' (153), but these soon roll up, segment and turn into black holes. Microperceptions [bad ones] are provided in advance, things like 'hallucinations, delirium, false perceptions, fantasies, waves of paranoia'. Experienced users like Burroughs or Artaud saw these as disappointing consequences, but also inevitable. 'Vital experimentation' turns into 'deadly experimentation', an activity that opens connections becomes one involving self destruction.

We can even see this with companion products like tobacco and alcohol, which can become a means to 'conjugate other flows' even if they do not lead to suicide. Experiment and openness become 'a simple flat development', 'only a single line'(154) with alternating rhythms — on the booze or having quit the booze. Both equally are part of being an alcoholic. 'Everything is reduced to a dismal suicidal line with two alternative segments' rather than multiple intertwining lines. It often ends in 'narcissism', or authoritarianism and venom. Is this sort of development inevitable? Does it have a turning point and if so can therapy intervene?

Answers will lie at the level of the 'specific causality of drugs', including their capacity for drugs to 'alter their own causality'. Overall, the capacity of desire to influence or invest perception is intriguing, but wider zero or so often lead to hallucination and paranoia? It seems that no progress is currently being made at the moment no research is being done. Even those who know the problems personally no longer do any research.

Chapter 16 Making Inaudible Forces Audible

[Gripping stuff with obscure context.  Much more graspable after having read Cox C ( nd). I also liked a piece on duration in classical music too --here]

[Typical obscure start referring to some sort of selection by Boulez of five works of music, unreferenced, of course, apparently which invites the listener to think of the relationship between them. I don't think he meant Boulez's own Pli Selon Pli,which apparently offers 5 short pieces that build overall to a portrait of Mallarme -- but it's an 'interesting' piece and you can hear it here]. For Deleuze, there is no simple progression or evolution, but rather 'a group of virtual relationships' (156) describing a 'particular profile of musical time applicable to those five works alone'. In other words we are not being invited to generalize [prematurely] , it is not a case of taking these pieces as examples to derive some abstract concept of time, but rather a matter of taking particular cycles to 'extract particular profiles of time'. Apparently particular profiles can then be superposed on 'a veritable cartography of variables'. The same method might be used for other artistic works as well.

When we do this with these examples, we see 'a kind of non-pulsed time emerging from a pulsed time, even though this non-pulsed time could become a new form of pulsation' (157). The actual examples make this clear, apparently, or Boulez's commentary does, how early pieces offer variations of pulsation and the last work shows how these can all be seen to lead to a new original pulsation.

[This makes much more sense following a reading of Cox. he argues that we can translate pulsed time to mean the frameworks that guide classical music, which include not only musical rhythms, but things like narratives imposed from the outside, often romantic narratives featuring heroes who are then embodied in the chain running from composer to conductor to individual virtuoso. Experimental music can still have metrical times, maybe irregular ones, as in experimental electronic music that features a steady pulse of noise. However, these serve not to constrain the music tightly as in some 'plane of transcendence', but rather to offer some consistency, a plane of consistency indeed, some steady element to which the variations return. Once we strip away the conventional ways to understand music, though, especially as a kind of familiar narrative, we are free to break from conventional narrative time as well and to experience the elements quite differently, as sequences in their own right, with earlier elements offering a kind of experience to understand the later ones, perhaps qualitatively, exactly as in duration.]

Non-pulsed time is the same as pure time in Proust. It is duration, with no measure, not even a regular role complex ones. Instead we find ourselves 'in the presence of a multiplicity of heterochronous qualitative, non-coincident, non-communicating durations'[as in the blending of sounds in Cox's examples, which include dub reggae]. We have to rethink how these elements are joined, having rejected 'the most general and classic solution that consists in relying on the mind to appose [sic]  a common measure'.

We can find a similar issue in the domain of biology and biological rhythms. It is no longer believed that different rhythms are articulated 'under the domination of a unifying form', (158) some superior form that regulates the 24-hour cycle. Instead, there is an explanation somewhere else, 'at the sub – vital, infra – vital level in what they call a population of molecular oscillators' which pass through heterogeneous systems, different groups and disparate durations. Articulation follows from the action of 'certain molecular couples' operating at different layers and with different rhythms. There might be something similar in music — 'sound molecules rather than pure notes or tones'. These serve as the 'first determination of a non-pulsed time'.

This provides us with a new type of individuation that is not down to the action of the subject, nor just a combination of [abstract] form and [concrete] material [so this is going to be an early sketch of the concept of haecceity?]. In everyday life, we get particular fragments combining landscapes, events, and hours of the day. Individuation in music seems like these 'paradoxical individuations'.

At the most 'rudimentary level, the easiest in appearance', a phrase in music can remind us of a landscape, as it does with Swann and the woods of Boulogne [wha? I don't remember this]. Sounds can evoke colours, motifs in opera can be connected to people or characters. However, sound can present an excess, [apparently as discerning listeners know]  'music itself envelops a distinct sound landscape inside it (as with Liszt)' (159). There is a similar excessive notion of colour where we can see all durations rhythms and timbres as sound colours imposed on the usual visible colours. The same goes for character — Wagner's motifs become autonomous, 'by themselves become characters inside the music'. We can see that these [I have called them excessive] notions of 'sound landscape', 'audible colour' and 'rhythmic character' are important in explaining particular [haecceity-type] individuations.

We can now abandon the old schema of substance and form, and reject notions of hierarchies moving from the simple to the complex, from substance to life to mind for example. We used to think that life was a simplification of matter, but now instead, vital rhythms seem to originate in 'molecular couplings' rather than aiming at some unification in a spiritual form. Composers have stopped producing music based on these assumptions as well. Music is no longer a rudimentary substance that is organized by a form, but consists of 'very elaborate sound material' (159). This sound material is coupled to forces which are not sound: the forces become sound or become audible 'by the material that makes them substantial' [the example here is Debussy Dialogue Between Wind and Sea — probably not the exact title and capable of referring to several pieces, but a short clip is available on YouTube. I found it to be the old romantic stuff about tumultuous forces rising to climaxes and so. Maybe these are hack notions of 'natural' forces still inhabiting the old romanticism?]. Musical material [now] makes 'forces audible that are not audible in themselves, such as time, duration and even intensity'. We need to think in terms of schema using material – force rather than matter – form.

Back to the Boulez examples [or perhaps moving on to another one], elaborate sound material including silences makes sensible and audible 'two tempos that were not of sound'. The first was the time of 'production in general' [sounds a bit Althusserian?] , and the second 'meditation in general'. These otherwise imperceptible forces became perceptible only through the material. [But these are Boulez's conceptions not Deleuze's? ]

There are some general implications because music is no longer just a matter for musicians, because sound is not its only element, nor its exclusive element. [Philosophical colonization?] We have to consider 'all the non-sound forces that the sound material elaborated by the composer will make perceptible' (160). This will mean that we [there's that 'we' again] can even perceive differences between forces and how they play together. It is similar to the task in philosophy: classical philosophy works with rudimentary substances of thought which are then submitted to concepts categories, but now we are struggling to elaborate 'a very complex material of thought', with the same intention — 'to make sensible forces that are not thinkable in themselves'

We have rejected the possibility of absolute understandings ['There is no absolute ear'] and we need to make audible forces that are not themselves audible, through devising an 'impossible' ear, or, for philosophers, 'an impossible thought'. This will make thinkable a complex material, of 'thought forces' in this case, 'that are unthinkable'.

[I have been reading Klossowski's book on NIetzsche. Itis horribly 'philosopjical' and I have not takendetailed notes. It seesm todraw on lots ofletters and notes left unpublishedby Nietzsche, which partly explains my puzzlement about Deleuze'semphasis on things like the Eternal Return when ther is hardly anymention of it derctlyin the published piees.

Nietzsche seems to have thought that the alternations between euphoria and depression were the results of certain intensities or intensive forces, existing in nature and fluctuating in his body. He came to develop a whole semiology on this basis, seeing the codes and signs of ordinary culture and its products including philosophical thoughts,  as particularly limited and frozen snapshots of these fluctuating intensities. The same goes for wills. This is why we could not accept the usual categories as self-sufficient — self, other, consciousness, the unconscious and nature for that matter. We use these only because science is useful if critiquing ordinary thought.  N's aphorism are supposed to indicate the inadequacies of ordinary formulations. Thoughts are not our own -- but we have a powerful sign that makes it look as if they are -- the 'I' { functionalism again?}. We had to have these highly restricted codes for good functional reasons, in order to permit orderly social life, but the function of the philosopher and thinker was to attempt to contact these intensities all over again. This will obviously be paradoxical since there was no way out from culture back into pure intensity. Nevertheless intensities provided unique tonalities of the soul which generated spectacular insights, and made Nietzsche think that he really was a revolutionary thinker ahead of his time and so on. What a prat!

As a result of one of these particular ecstatic tonalities, he came to think of the Eternal Return. I must say I think the whole discussion is haunted by guilt and regret on the one hand, and a view that he would live things quite differently if he had known about the eternal return in the first place. What a prat again! He was apparently haunted by the mood swings and,multiple selves revealed to him by the fluctuations in his health, and turned with great relief to the idea that all these multiple selves were earlier incarnations of himself in cycles of the Return. His grasp of that was a major self-justifying enlightenment for him and a promise that things would be better next turn of the cycle. Of course, it required some philosophical justification

The whole notion of the Eternal Return seems to be riddled with paradox and ambiguity, as one might expect. For example it requires us to have forgotten earlier cycles, otherwise we would have learned from them and discovered the Return in the first place. Once we have discovered the Return, we are enlightened, but this still does not stop the cycle of the eternal return. There is some wacky stuff about the importance of the notion of a circular return to encapsulate the process of solidifying the notion of the I , and then losing it again, dissolving it in the flux of intensity.The normal exercise of the will operates only at the solidified moment, but it is possible to will another turn around the circle. This is also a way of overcoming by compensation the apparent incoherence and stupidity of normal life — nothing has much coherence or significance in the ordinary state of affairs, where it is all arbitrary.As usual, we seem to compensate for our own twisted ordinary lives by developing what seems like a great ecstatic philosophical insight.It is almost a way of overcoming the dreadful thought of chaos at the bottom of it all — this is a domesticated version of chaos.

Naturally, this is communicated in unusual ways, through fables like Zarathustra, who has to struggle to overcome the boring bits of human destiny, like the exteriority of time. If he can somehow will time to become a circle, this will solve the problem. This will only be a ruse however {a subjective story of the reality}. The whole thing is to be contrasted to the actions of the ordinary will that operates in ordinary time and can only therefore think of and will a return of the same. This is where we get a connection to the early stuff on semiology and intensities, since what we are rewilling is a properly heterogeneous self, a multiplicity of different intensities, not one frozen in a particular moment.We can properly understand that our passage through the cycles in the past has produced certain limited selves, but they are all part of us, and once we know that, the future can work with heterogeneous selves {guilt and apology riddle this}. We have to remember that none of this is confined to human intentions — the cycle works independently of us {so it is not our fault that we happen to be living in a rather nasty moment at the same time as syphilis}. This revelation which occurred to Nietzsche by chance opens the possibility for the appearance of the overman, who wants to live according to the progress of the virtuous circle, naturally beyond the banalities of good and evil.