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. Useful background to a number of other positions --eg on language, the emotions, smooth space, duration, the background/intros to the books etc]

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.  See also Ch. 40 below. 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'.

Chapter 17 Spoilers of Peace

'In the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, the actions of the Israelis are considered legitimate retaliation (even if their attacks do seem disproportionate), whereas the actions of the Palestinians are without fail treated as terrorist crimes' (161). Israel has also been successful in getting other states to accept that it is the Palestinians who spoil piece. However, Israeli retaliation tends to damage neutrals as well and thus create more militants.

Chapter 18 The Complaint and the Body

[A very brief review of a new book by a philosopher and psychoanalyst P. Fedida. I don't think any of it is translated. The project seems to be to weave together phenomenology and Freudian analysis to produce 'theory of intersubjectivity as a transcendental field' (165). We can see these interconnections by considering the 'psychosomatic complaint'.]

Chapter 19 How Philosophy is Useful to Mathematicians or Musicians

At Vincennes, lectures were public and audiences often included mathematicians or musicians. Philosophy is expected to be useful somehow in terms of other subject specialisms, and this can orient the teaching of philosophy. This gives it a 'practical and experimental' nature (167). Traditionalists might object that this does not lead to mastery in a single discipline, but Deleuze thinks that disciplines should consider connections with 'domains of externality', including those already given in other subjects. This makes Vincennes particularly useful in countering 'intellectual lobotomy' (168).

Chapter 20 Open Letter to Negri's Judges

[This challenges the evidence that has led to the conviction of Negri as a terrorist. The principles of justice seem to be precisely those which Deleuze has criticized in his general philosophy — real special pleading!].

It is important that justice preserves the 'principle of identity or non-contradiction', meaning that accusations must be consistent and singular, and this is not the case here, where the accusation attempts to implicate Negri in the act of kidnapping because his writing somehow supports it, or rather the thoughts that informed the writing.

We should also conform to 'a principle of disjunction or exclusion: it is this or that' (170). The authorities have suggested plausible alternatives for every example of Negri's whereabouts — if he did not actually do the kidnapping he conceived of it, his critique of the Red Brigades is but a mask to cover his real leadership. This is a problem with revolutionary intellectuals, however, who feel particularly obliged to write only what they are thinking rather than pursue opportunistic thoughts like ordinary politicians.

The press has played a major role in permitting these logical abuses. The notion of news involves an accumulation of statements, 'with no concern for contradictions'. Much of it involves using conditionals. In this case, Negri has been represented as having been at three different locations on the same day and this is somehow combined. Other smears involve using his support for Autonomy to link to the Red Brigades, or to argue that he deserves what is happening to him, guilty or not.

Chapter 21 This Book is Literal Proof of Innocence

This refers to Negri's book about Marx written while in prison. Italian newspapers have continued their campaign to disparage Negri as a thinker, and this is necessary because it's not acceptable to imprison intellectuals per se: they have to be false thinkers. This book shows considerable intellectual insight. It is also focused on practical struggle, but never advocating terrorism, so this book should demonstrate his innocence. However Negri might be two-faced, a secret agent — but this would be impossible for a genuine revolutionary agent who could not practice 'any kind of struggle other than what he values and encourages in his work' (174). [very naive politics it seem to me]

Chapter 22 Eight Years Later: 1980 interview

[About ATP]. While AO focused on the unconscious, a familiar field, attempting to replace a theatrical model with one based on the factory, hence desiring machines and desirous production. ATP tries to invent its own fields, however which are not pre-existing. It is a sequel to AO, but 'a sequel in live action' (175). Examples include 'the animal becoming of human beings and its connection to music'.

AO came just after May 68. Nowadays there is a reaction requiring a new politics to oppose 'today's conformity'. There is a deliberate 'labour crisis where books are concerned' [critical academics are being excluded?]. Journalism is increasing in power, recent novels are rediscovering banality such as the theme of the family. AO really 'was a total failure'(176).

ATP should really be seen as 'plain old philosophy'. Philosophers create concepts, invent new ones, and this is a special form of thought. Concepts are 'singularities that have an impact on ordinary life', on ordinary thinking. Examples of concepts include 'rhizome, smooth space, haecceity, animal becoming, abstract machine, diagram'. Guattari is always inventing concepts.

The unity of ATP is provided by the idea of an assemblage which has replaced the desiring machine. There are various kinds of assemblages and different component parts. We are trying to use it to explain behaviour, hence the importance of ethology and animal assemblages like territories. The 'chapter' (sic — 177) on the ritornello 'simultaneously examines' animal assemblages and properly musical assemblages and 'this is what we call a plateau, establishing a continuity between the ritornellos of birds and Schumann's ritornellos'. The analysis of assemblages and their component parts 'opens the way to a general logic' which is still at an early stage: 'Guattari calls it "diagrammatism"'.  [Deleuze thibks itwillinformtheir future work -- it didn't inform his much?]. In assemblages there are various things like bodies or combinations of them, but also utterances and regimes of signs. The relation between them is complex, and we cannot reduce things to productive forces or ideologies. There are also 'hodgepodges', 'combinations of interpenetrating bodies'. Some combinations are acceptable, others not [incest is the example]. There are also 'verdicts', collective utterances, 'instantaneous and incorporeal transformations which have currency in a society' [the example here is a cliche from conventional wisdom about no longer being a child]. [Badly needs Bourdieu here on the habitus and its connection to social reproduction]

[Is there an ethics, the interviewer asks]. The component parts of assemblages can be seen as criteria, qualifying assemblages [weaselly about ethics]. Assemblages are a bunch of lines, but summer segmented, some disappear into black holes, some are destructive, while others are 'vital and creative', opening up assemblages. An abstract line is not just one which does not represent anything, as in geometry, but rather one that passes between things, 'a line in mutation' (178). This makes it living and creative, 'Real abstraction is non-organic life', and this idea is everywhere in ATP. It is the life of the concept. Assemblages are carried along by these abstract lines. It is like modern technology which are channelled through silicon rather than carbon, in a 'silicon – assemblage'. So we have to speak about 'component parts of assemblages, the nature of the lines, the mode of life, the mode of utterance...'

Conventional distinctions are suppressed, like those between nature and culture. Some theorists like Lorenz saw human behaviour as only a special kind of animal behaviour, but the idea of assemblage replaces the idea of behaviour altogether, and here 'the nature – culture distinction no longer matters', with behaviour as just 'a contour' (179). The coherence or consistency of an assemblage is a prior problem, and this is why ATP investigates 'intensive continuity', with plateaus as 'zones of intensive continuity', as in Bateson.

We get the idea of intensity from Klossowski, who provided a philosophical and theological depth of the notion of intensity, and developed a semiology [and what limited bollox it was]. Physics and mathematics are rediscovering intensive quantities, and biology and embryology also interested in what they call gradients. The sciences are not isolated here. 'Intensities are about modes of life, and experimental practical reason. This is what constitutes non-organic life'. [We can see how this informs the general philosophy as I understand it, that there are pulsating intensive forces at work which produce the regularities observed by science and social science as actualizations]

[After reading this I set off to read Klossowski on Nietzsche. What a horrific read! I have confessed in the notes that I am highly sceptical of Nietzsche and his absurd notion of tonalities of the soul as a form of intensive fluctuation, although Klossowski does help explain how these impulses produce both an ontology and a semiology. It is bollox though.]

ATP was the result of a lot of work and 'it will demand work from the reader', although it is impossible to predict which sections might seem easier. It is 'precisely the kind of book being threatened today' (180), so writing it could be seen as politics. The main issue is whether people might have some use for the book 'in their own work, in their life, and their projects' [and we have all seen how this sort of ludicrous pragmatism has led to the most absurd attempts to claim Deleuze as warrant].

Chapter 23 Painting sets Writing Ablaze

[This is about Deleuze's book on Bacon which I have not yet processed, so I confined myself to some very short notes here. I have read it now ( writes a later Dave) -- notes here

Bacon fits Lyotard's view of the figural direction in painting [very roughly, the figure is an image that conveys both formal semiotic and informal affective meanings]. Kafka also produces Figures, displaying both 'unfathomable suffering and profound anguish', but also a 'certain "mannerism"' [reflecting artistic conventions?] (182). In Bacon, there is the violence of the oppressive situation, but also 'the incredible violence of the poses' which are figural.

Painters also have specific lines and colours, assemblages, as do writers. Writing about painting is difficult — describing a painting somehow reproduces it and makes it redundant, or there are the temptations of 'emotional gushing or applied metaphysics' (183). It is hard to extract concepts that are based just on the lines and colours of painting and how they communicate, especially with Bacon's use of colour.

[Then the famous bit:] 'a canvas is not a blank surface. It is already heavy with cliches, even if we do not see them. The painter's work consists in destroying them: the painter must go through a moment when he or she no longer sees anything thanks to a collapse of visual coordinates. That is why I say that painting includes a catastrophe, one which is the crux of the painting'. The other arts also struggle with cliches, but somehow inside the author rather than in the work: Artaud shows the 'collapse of ordinary linguistic coordinates' as part of his work. Paintings follow from an 'optical catastrophe' that remains in the painting. (184).

Apparently Deleuze did not confine his thinking specifically to reproductions of the paintings, but followed his own insights of 'a certain internal law' involving the comparison of specific paintings. For example, he saw triptyches in apparently singular paintings.

Interviews with Bacon by Sylvester were useful, but artists generally talk with 'extraordinary modesty, self-imposed rigour, and great strength' (185), often suggesting the concepts and affects in their work.

When he met Bacon, the problem was attempting to paint sensations, not particularly violent spectacles, but more 'the cry'. This was a turn towards sobriety and away from easy figuration itself. Bacon apparently said that he dreamed of painting a wave but saw the risk of a lack of success. This is like Proust or Cezanne who declared himself unable to paint a simple apple.

'Emotion does not say "I"' (187). Emotion is not a matter for the ego but for the event. It is not easy to grasp an event and the first person is not implied. It would be better to 'use the third person like Maurice Blanchot when he says that there is more intensity in the sentence "he suffers" than "I suffer"'.

Chapter 24 Manfred: an Extraordinary Renewal

[This refers to the work of Carmelo Bene, whom I do not know, so I have taken no notes]

Chapter 25 Preface to The Savage Anomaly

[Negri's book on Spinoza written in prison]. Apparently the argument is that forces can manifest themselves without mediation, and earlier view that provided for a notion of legalistic power, and an inbuilt conflict or antagonism which would result. Spinoza takes a different view, for Negri: forces are spontaneous and productive requiring no mediation but are 'elements of socialisation in themselves' (191), operating immediately on multitudes not individuals, and expressing more of a potential rather than an actual power. Here, material ontology conflicts with the notion of a final mediation based on some ideal society. Negri sketches the background of this view in Spinoza as a description of the potential of the growing market in Holland and its emerging opposition with the monarchy.

At first, Spinoza's work was still utopian, but this was modified by a growing interest in ontology based on substance and modes. Because these were not legally constrained and appeared spontaneous, it was easy to ignore this material basis for reality in favour of something more idealized. The second position involves two moves: there is a focus on the modes rather than the substance itself [allowing for more concrete analysis rather than theology]; thought focuses on the material dimension instead of idealist utopian thinking. Antagonism becomes a firmly political issue not an idealised one.

The body in Spinoza is grasped as a force, defined by 'chance encounters and collisions' but also by 'relations between an infinite number of parts', so it is already a multitude. Composition and decomposition of bodies is a process, affected by relationships which can therefore be healthy or unhealthy. Two individual bodies can organise their relationships in concrete circumstances to produce another body. The whole point of the political imagination is to organise such 'composable relationships'(192). Common notions therefore become the 'cornerstone of the Ethics', producing suitable physical and political relationships.

Negri argues that there is this progression from utopian to revolutionary materialist thinking [which no doubt endears him to Marxists instead of Hegel]. Politics are central to the philosophy. Negri's argument deserves central discussion and debate.

Chapter 26 The Indians of Palestine

[A discussion with a Palestinian militant, one Elias Sanbar]. There is now a new Palestinian Journal, and this has helped to flesh out the abstract image of the Palestinian combatant. Palestinians are not just refugees, nor just armed militants. The Journal helps insist 'that Palestinians actually exist' (195). The journal is a forum for many voices, meaning there are many different Palestinians, indeed, a whole society. Palestine is also a land which 'has been pillaged and plundered', featuring a notion of exile and a desire to return.

Deleuze thinks that Palestinians have been understood in an unusual way, not in a typical colonial situation. This is why they are like American Indians. Colonialists maintain people and make them work, but in Palestine territory is emptied of its people. Both the United States and Israel have gone down that route [and it is the route followed by the UK in the case of Australia, defined as an empty land]. However, Palestinians can draw at least on the Arab world.

Sanbar says Palestinians were exiled to other Arab countries, and Israel even rebukes those countries for not integrating them. That would be to make them disappear again. Israel's policy has only been to make Palestinians disappear. The old forms of colonization left possibilities for the colonized to interact with the colonialists, but Zionism makes absence a necessity, 'the total rejection of the Other' (197). They operated initially with the false idea of an empty country, or argued that the Palestinians were about to disappear. The Other was not to be seen as present. Zionists played the race card here, in making Judaism itself a justification for rejection of the Other, confirmed by the persecution of the Jews in Europe. Jews themselves have been imprisoned by this argument. Zionism has to construct some eternal principle for the otherness of Jews, wherever they lived, some cursed Other — but this is not a realistic position, and Jews should not see themselves as permanently and inalterably other like this. The PLO propose to establish a democratic state in Palestine with no permanent walls between inhabitants.

Deleuze says the journal is right to insist that the Palestinians are people like any other, and they need to be recognizedui as such, despite fears that they will want to destroy Israel. The journal includes essays on the Holocaust and its political significance for Israel [presumably arguing that it limits the political possibilities]. One consequence is a total dependence on the west. The Palestinian demand is simply to be an unexceptional people, and they see history as a matter of possibility, multiple possibilities. Sanbar thinks that military force alone will not preserve Israel, and that their main political argument is that there is no such thing as a Palestinian people — that is why that issue has to be central to the journal.

Chapter 27 Letter to Uno on Language

'Language has no self-sufficiency… No significance of its own' (201). Signs are always connected to a nonlinguistic element — '"the state of things" or, better yet, "images"', as in Bergson [who says, according to D, images have an existence independently of us]. Utterances come in assemblages, with images and signs.

Utterance 'does not refer to a subject, there is no subject outside of assemblages. Instead assemblages operate processes of subjectivation to assign subjects, which can be images or signs. We see this best in free indirect discourse — 'an utterance contained in the statement which itself depends on another utterance. For example: "she gathers her strength"'. Every utterance is really composed of several voices like this.

Metaphors 'do not exist'[and see his rejection of them in Difference and Repetition]. Free indirect discourse is the only figure, 'the only one coextensive with language'.

Language is never a homogenous system, despite linguists like Jakobson or Chomsky who 'believe in such systems because they would be out of a job without them' (202) [very vulgar reductionism]. Labov's linguistics shows a suitable heterogeneity and lack of equilibrium, but this lack of equilibria is also revealed in literature where one writes in one's own language as if it were foreign, citing Proust and Kafka.

This is where the work on cinema comes in because it is 'an assemblage of images and signs' which need to be classified. There might be a movement image which can be subdivided, for example, with corresponding signs or voices or forms of utterance. Japanese cinema has extended the possibilities.

Chapter 28 Preface to the American Edition of Nietzsche and Philosophy

[Notes on the book here] Nietzsche's work has been seen as ambiguous, and there are worries whether he prefigured fascist thought. Was it even philosophy or just violent poetry and 'capricious aphorisms and pathological fragments' (203). Misunderstanding was at its height in England because the English never saw the need to combat French rationalism or German dialectic — they had their own 'theoretical pragmatism and empiricism that made any detour through Nietzsche totally unnecessary'. As a result, his influence was limited to novelists, poets and playwrights, with the philosophy and theory downplayed. However his philosophical influence was massive, and at least comparable to that of Spinoza.

We can understand the philosophy 'along two axes'. First there is the notion of force, of forces which constitute 'a general semiology'. All phenomena including consciousness and spirits are signs or rather symptoms referring to a state of forces which makes the philosopher a physiologist or doctor. He invented a typology of forces — active and reactive forces — and analyzed their combinations. He was particularly interested in reactive forces. The general semiology obviously included linguistics or philology where a proposition expresses 'the speaker's way of being or mode of existence, the state of forces someone maintains'. So each proposition refers to a mode of existence and the point of analysis is to investigate this mode of existence of the person pronouncing the proposition, especially the kind of power that is necessary in order to pronounce it.

The two reactive human forces are resentment and bad conscience, which makes humans into slaves. A slave is not necessarily someone dominated since even the dominant can be imprisoned by these reactive concepts, even leaders in totalitarian societies. We find 'a universal history of resentment and bad conscience' (205) in the Jewish and Christian priests and modern day priests, in Nietzsche's 'historical perspectivism'.

The second axis concerns power and will lead to both an ethics and an ontology. There is much misunderstanding here. The will to power is not just a matter of wanting or seeking power. Instead power designates the element that makes relations of forces work, the dynamic qualities of affirmation or negation. Ordinary individual wills imply this power but do not directly express it, except in its lowest and most negative form [I think he has in mind reactionary conservatism]. We also need to transform the question what is it into who is it — who can utter particular propositions — but again we are not referring to individuals or persons but rather to events, relational forces in a proposition or genetic relations that determined this forces. '"Who" is always Dionysos, an aspect or a mask of Dionysos, a flash of lightning' [very obscure — relates to the idea that there is only playful fate, the phantasm, in the form of the Return, driving things ultimately — with all the problems that are then involved in describing this state without using conventional propositions as in Klossowski].

We should never understand the eternal return as the return of some combination after all the others have been tried, or as the return of the identical all the same. Nietzsche as a radical critique of this form of identity and he explicitly denies that it will be the same that is returned. The return must always involve a selection — a selection of will or thought, hence the ethics [all the unsavoury stuff about the will or thought of the aristocracy or the blond beasts]: we will will today only those things whose eternal return we also will, to avoid mealymouthed willing of just this once. There is also a selection of Being, the ontology — what returns 'is only that which becomes in the fullest sense of the word. Only action and affirmation return'. Being is becoming and so whatever is opposed to becoming will not return [because the return will also be governed by the will of the healthy, the strong and so on]. The Return is therefore a transmutation, 'the eternity of becoming eliminating whatever offers resistance', finally enshrining the active. This will be the dawn of the overman which has 'no other meaning'. It therefore involves not wanting but giving or creating. Deleuze's book is about this notion of Becoming.

However, Nietzsche also evokes 'affective dispositions on the part of the reader' (207). Nietzsche himself always saw 'a profound relationship between concept and affect', but these must be grasped according to his own 'climate'. Nevertheless, readers have obstinately seen the Nietzsche and slave as someone dominated by a master, the will to power as a will to seek power in this society, the eternal return as the return of the same, and the over man as a race of Masters. This will not produce 'a positive relationship between Nietzsche and his reader'. Nietzsche will be seen as a nihilist or a fascist, as he was well aware: Zarathustra was seen as likely to be interpreted as both monkey and clown. Any book must attempt a redemptive reading ['attempt to rectify any practical and affective incomprehension' (208)].

Nietzsche's nihilism involve the triumph of reactive forces and the negative, and he wanted transmutation or becoming instead, tapping the 'transhistoric element of humanity, the Overman and not the Superman'. Overmen appear when the reactive is overcome. This is an alliance with future forces, as well as an analysis of 'the diabolic forces already knocking at the door'. These were to be overcome, however, by a desperate act of reawakening the positive.

An aphorism is a fragment or snippet of thoughts, but also a proposition, 'which makes sense only in relation to the state of forces which it expresses, and who sense changes — whose sense must change — according to the new forces which it is "able" (has the power) to elicit' (208). [A massive claim here which I would like to see justified in terms of actual aphorisms, especially the absurdly volkisch ones — presumably Deleuze means the little cryptic asides in the philosophy. Lists have been compiled of the wit'n'wisdom variety -- try this one].

Nietzsche has transformed the image of thought. He takes them away from mere truth and falsehood [meant to be a rebuke of sterile logical analysis or scientism, but very dangerous in my view]. We need to interpret the forces at work and make an evaluation of the power involved, in a 'thought – movement' (209). Thought itself must produce movements and speeds, and again the aphorism helps 'with its variable speeds and its projectile like movement' [pass]. Philosophy has a new relationship to the arts movement. Nietzsche's writing was never just discursive and dissertation like, although his Genealogy of Morals was written like this and it is a work 'to which all modern ethnology owns an inexhaustible debt' [unbelievable! It's a third rate sociology of knowledge infused with his fantasies about aristocracy and its decline]. Nietzsche does identify the overman in figures like Borgia or the Jesuits, but this is not 'pre-fascist', but rather like the directors notes indicating how characters should be played in a theatre.

Overall, 'Nietzsche's greatest teaching is that thinking is creating. Thinking is a role of the dice… This is the meaning of the Eternal Return'.

Chapter 29 Cinema – 1, Premier

[Notes on the book here] The cinema offers a set of images that are best understood as Ideas. They make us think. It is not that thoughts exist first and that they then create images, rather that thoughts 'are completely immanent to the images' (210). These concrete images are found in different art forms. We have to draw out cinematic ideas, 'extracting thoughts without abstract thing them, grasping them in their internal relationship with [the images, in this case movement images]'. The 'great cinematic authors are thinkers', as are other artists — it is not just philosophers. The arts can sometimes intersect, but even here it would be a mistake to think that there is some abstract thought 'indifferent to its means of expression'. Rather thought gets repeated taken up by different arts, but autonomous in each case.

In Dostoevsky, the characters can encounter urgent situations that require immediate answers, or rather, the definition of the specific hidden problem. This is the Idea for Dostoevsky. It is the same for Kurosawa, whose characters move from the facts of an urgent situation to uncover an even more urgent question hidden in the situation. Thought is not just the content of the question, but rather 'the formal passage from a situation to a hidden question, the metamorphosis of the facts' (211). The connection between Dostoevsky and Kurosawa is one where thoughts occur to both rather than any deliberate adaptation.

Others [including the addressee, Daney] distinguish different types of images, such as deep in age where something is hidden, flat image were everything is visible, combinations of images where each slides over the others. It is both a matter of technical facility and also the acting. Different types of images require different acting — so the crisis of the action image produces a new genre of actors who are not professionals, but are actually 'professional non-actors' who dabble (Leaud is the only one I recognised]. Actors are themselves thoughts here.

We should judge an image by the 'thoughts it creates'. So there is a thought reacting to a flat image. The director can vary the thoughts. Take the way they vary the notion of depth — if we suppress the third dimension as Dreyer does, you we imply other dimensions. For Welles there is the notion of depth as a matter of layers of the past, a new time image.

Cinematographic critique is developing well, and so far there is no separate classical university-based tradition separate from what is modern, no separation between the critique of arts and the history of art for cinema. Instead, there is a common 'search for cinematographic Ideas' and this can even be comparative involving painting philosophy and science.Chapter 30 Portrait of the Philosopher as a Moviegoer

[An interview with Guibert]. Painting and film are not just something to be reflected upon by philosophy. Philosophy creates concepts. The arts produce different kinds of image. Concepts themselves are images of thought, and are no more difficult to understand.

Philosophical concepts 'resonate'(213) [weasel] with images. For example film constructs particular spaces and philosophy constructs spatial concepts which correspond to them. There may even be 'zone of indiscernibility', [mistyped here as indiscerpibility] where an image, a scientific model or a philosophical concept could express the same thing, even though there are different movements, methods and problems.

It is not a matter of neglecting the traditional objects of study. Concepts are 'modern entities with a life'. For example Blanchot says his concept of the event has one dimension that 'plunges into bodies and finds its fulfilment in bodies' but another that expresses 'inexhaustible potentiality that exceeds every actualisation' (214). An actor can play an event exactly in these terms expressing a ' visual reserve'. Philosophy can divide things up differently, grouping under one concept things that appear different, and separating things that seem to belong together. Film does the same with 'distinct groups of visual and sonorous images' which can themselves be grouped in different ways.

Film is best enjoyed as a permanent spectacle, even though there is something to be said for specialised movie theatres [which apparently existed in Paris and showed things like only musicals or only Soviet films].

He takes notes soon as he can after watching a film, and intends to watch them naïvely — 'Every images literal must be taken literally' so that you do not add depth to what is a flat image. Images have to be grasped as they are presented in their immediacy. Images have their own reality, even though films can have distinct lives themselves. Some emotions do induce crying or laughter. The knowing laughter of the cinephile is objectionable, though.

The history of what has been written on cinema is also important — 'Saying what you have figured out how to see'. There is no original spectator, beginning or end, we work in the middle by extending lines that already exist or branching off from them. It is hard to disentangle qualities of the image from qualities of the spectator. Some images are both visible and readable, however, and spectators can be left 'only with empty intuitions' if they do not 'know how to appreciate the originality of an image' (217). [The whole section as a weasel].

Originality is the only criterion of the work, in film as much as in philosophy. There is a danger of repeating what's been said 1000 times already and pursuing the 'mere pleasure of novelty, in an empty way'. You are copying the old or whatever is fashionable. It is different when you cause something to emerge 'and that begins to exist on its own account' [this whole discussion seems to me to contradict what was said earlier about the utterance always being tied to a context]. It follows that 'cinematographic images are signed' (218) that there are great auteurs with different notions of space or concepts, say of violence, even of colour.

Lighting and depth can illuminate problems, by serving as the 'given'against which problems are discussed. Problems have to be posed in the first place and this is also creative. For example some filmmakers see light in terms of shadow or contrast, as in the tradition known as expressionism. Things like chiaroscuro effects are connected to philosophical concepts such as the conflict between good and evil. Other traditions see white light as the basic component, and even here there might be a difference between the light of the sun and the light of the moon. Here we might be talking in terms of 'alternation and alternative'. Different creative paths can intersect.

He first went to cinema as an infant. He began to philosophise about film after thinking about the problem of signs which linguistics did not seem capable of managing. Instead, he noticed movement images and from their 'all kinds of strange signs' (219) requiring a new classification. Again this is not that film became a new field of application, but rather it formed 'the state of active and interior alliance' with philosophy. Attempts to classify the signs of cinema was the main point of the book. Writing it required that he 'invent sentences that function like images' (220), showing the great works of film. Underneath, he wanted to show that the great auteurs worth thinking and making films that were 'creative, living thought).

The second volume will look specifically at time images, which are only implied indirectly in the movement image. Film is still pleasurable, and sometimes the beauty of the film dominates to such an extent that writing about it is difficult.

Chapter 31 Pacifism Today
[A dated and not very interesting discussion trying to argue that pacifism is about negotiating the end of the Cold War not just opposing the installation of missiles]

Chapter 32 May '68 did not take place

There are always parts of events that cannot be reduced to any sort of social determinism. There are similar unstable conditions in physics according to Prigogine.  It follows that those parts cannot be outdated because they open onto the possible. May '68 was such an event, 'a pure event, free of all normal, or normative causality'(233).  It resulted from a series of amplified instabilities. We should ignore all the usual slogans and idiocies and focus instead on the 'visionary phenomenon' (234), the possibility for something else, a new existence even a new subjectivity with new relations with the body and with culture.

To understand it, we really need new 'collective agencies of enunciation' that match the changes in subjectivity. We have historical examples here in the American New Deal and the Japanese boom [sic]. In France in 68, the authorities constantly hoped that everything would settle down, but May '68 remains as a current crisis. French Society was unable to assimilate it, unable to redeploy subjectivity, to offer something satisfying for people.  Instead, every effort was made to marginalize or caricature the events.  Reactions set in by the left as much as by the right.

The children of May '68 are still around, however, although 'their situation is not great'.  They are less demanding, but they also know that nothing in the present will correspond to their subjectivity, potential or energy.  The stance is to [lie low] keep things open, hang on. These '"situations of abandonment"' (235) are found all over the world, in unemployment, retirement, the situations in which the handicapped find themselves.  Subjective redeployment is taking the form of 'an unbridled American style capitalism or even of a Muslim fundamentalism'[and 'Afro American religions like in Brazil' for some reason] (236).  The whole of Europe has been Americanized. Possibilities are found elsewhere: 'along the east - west axis, in pacifism' to end the Cold War stalemate, and 'along the north south axis' in a new internationalism, taking into account 'third worldification in the rich countries themselves'.  We need new creative solutions to continue where May '68 left off.

Chapter 33 Letter to Uno: How Felix and I Worked Together

Guattari might have a different point of view. 'One thing is certain, there is no recipe or general formula for working together' (237).

They met soon after 1968 through a mutual friend. They did not seem to have much in common. Guattari in particular participates in different activities and does a lot of group work — 'He is an "intersection" of groups, like a star'. He always seems to be in motion, jumping from one activity to another 'He never ceases'. Deleuze cannot manage two projects at once and is more obsessive over ideas. He likes to write alone and not to talk much.

However, Guattari is really alone, and can plunge into solitude when he is between activities. He is highly creative and never stops tinkering with his ideas, although sometimes he gets bored with them and can even forget them temporarily. His ideas are drawings or diagrams. Deleuze is interested in concepts which can seem to have their own existence, although we have to create them doing philosophy. Concepts are 'neither generalities nor truths. They are more along the lines of the Singular, the Important, the New' (238). They are inseparable from affects, 'the powerful effects they exert on our life', and percepts 'the new ways of seeing or perceiving they provoke in us'.

So we worked between Guattari's diagrams and Deleuze's articulated concepts, but did not know how at first. They read a lot, 'ethnology, economics, linguistics, etc' and this was the raw material. They were interested in what each other took from or injected into this material. Anti-Oedipus rapidly emerged as a new conception of the unconscious, 'as a machine, a factory; and a new conception of delirium as indexed on the historical, political, and social world'. They began their work with 'long, disorderly letters' then met for several days or weeks at a time. It was exhausting but pleasurable. They worked independently developing points in different directions, and then swapped drafts. We 'coined terms whenever we needed them. The book at times took on a powerful coherence that could not be assigned to either one of us' (239).

'Our differences worked against us, but they worked for us even more'. They worked at different rhythms, not always responding immediately to each other's letters. They did not do dialogue during their meetings — 'one of us would speak, and the other would listen'. They persisted with each other. 'Gradually, a concept will require an autonomous existence'. They did not always understand them in the same way, for example the organless body. Their work was not aimed at homogenisation but rather proliferation, 'an accumulation of bifurcations, a rhizome'. In general, Felix had brainstorms and Deleuze was the lightning rod to ground them, but they promptly leapt up again and changed.

It was different with ATP. There is a more complex composition and more varied disciplines. The working relationship had developed to such an extent that 'the one could guess where the other was headed'. As a result 'Our conversations now were full of ellipses' [you're telling me!]. They could establish 'various resonances, not between us [NB], but among the various disciplines that we were traversing'.

The best moments for them were 'music and the ritornello, the war machine and nomads, and animal becoming' (240). In those instances, 'under Felix's spell, I felt I could perceive unknown territories where strange concepts dwelt'. Overall, the book has been a source of happiness. It seems inexhaustible, although maybe not so for the reader. Guattari and himself had to return to their own work but they will work together again.

Chapter 34 Michel Foucault's Main Concepts

[Apparently an early draft for the book]. Although the work is historical and philosophical, Foucault belongs to neither specialism. His continual problem instead is 'What does it mean to think?' (241). The historical is made up of strata but thinking aims to 'reach a non-stratified material, somewhere between the layers, in the interstices'. It has an untimely quality, thinking the past against the present, while being in favour of a time to come. Thought displays becoming passing through historical formations. There must be an outside of thought and yet there are also internal sources, beneath and beyond the strata. The aim is to think differently as a result, breaking from the conventional history of thought. There are three axes, 'discovered one after the other': '1) strata as historical formations (archaeology); 2) the outside as beyond (strategy); and 3) the inside as a substratum (genealogy)' (242). There are also turning points and ruptures in the work.

First, 'strata are historical formations, both empirical and positive'. They are made up of words and things, the visible [meaning the observable, practices and institutions which routinize and embody observation like the clinic or Panopticon, and a research technique for philosophers/historians too?] and the utterable, [located in whole] 'planes of visibility and fields of legibility'. [The methodological emphasis maybe explains what F meant when he said he was a positivist?] We can use the work of Hjemslev and speak in terms of content and expression, each with their own forms and substances. Thus the prison is a form of content, and the convicts its substance. In terms of expression, there is the form, criminal law, and the substance, delinquency. The criminal law as expression defines a 'field of utterability', what may be said about delinquency, and the prison as a form of content defines a place of visibility as in 'panoptics'. Discipline and Punish was in fact the last major analyses of strata, but the basis was already laid down in the History of Madness. In between, Foucault wrote the Birth of the Clinic and the book on Roussel [which gets quite a lot of attention here — I must reread it]. Thus Roussel writes about the inventions of visibility by machines [which embody obscure and crackpot mechanisms, historical stories and theories] and the productions of utterances through various procedures [including R's literary methods like putting stories inside stories or starting with two similar sentences and making one the beginning and the other the end of the writing?]. The clinic offers the visible, and the growth of pathological anatomy the utterable. In the Archaeology of Knowledge, we find a general theory of the two elements of stratifications — the forms of content, nondiscursive formations, and the forms of expression, discursive formations. Together these stratify and produce knowledge. We can study these processes through archaeology, which refer not just to the past but to strata, so that we can have an archaeology of the present. Both visible and utterable are matters of epistemology, not phenomenology.

Foucault is a bit vague in choosing words and things to designate the two 'poles of knowledge' (243), and perhaps uses them ironically. Archaeology really aims at uncovering forms of expression which are not just linguistic units, whether words or phrases or speech acts. Instead, the underlying unit is the utterance, 'a function that intersects diverse units'. The same goes with the visible — they are units of visibility and not just visual elements like qualities or objects or 'amalgams of action and reaction'. Again there is an original function — units of visibility are not objects or forms, but 'forms of the luminous... created by light itself', so that things and objects are better seen as 'flashes, reflections, or sparkles' [argued first in the book on Roussel apparently] [I think this is a bit of a weasel — to say things are created by light or force is to leave large areas unexplained and to work with a substantial generality].

Archaeology tries to extract utterances from words and languages in each stratum, and units of visibility or the visible from 'things and vision'(244). Utterances are probably primary, and initially, in the Archaeology, the visible is only defined negatively, as something nondiscursive, complementary to utterances. But the visible is distinct, and there are two poles to knowledge. There must therefore be 'an "archaeology of seeing"'. What was seen remained of interest throughout, and the archive is an audiovisual one.

Utterances themselves can never be directly legible 'or even utterable' except in relation to certain conditions which permit them and enable 'inscription on an "enunciative support"'. There must always be some basic language, but more specific words need to be analyzed, 'pried open, split apart' to grasp the way language specifically appears in each stratum. Otherwise we will be left just with words or propositions, concealing the utterance. [Deleuze adds it is the same with sexuality].

The assumption is that 'every age says all it can say, hides nothing, silences nothing, in terms of the language at its disposal' (245) [allowing that even silences are utterances?], even in politics, especially in sexuality. The same goes for the visible — they units are not hidden but sometimes conditions make them invisible 'although in plain sight'. Again there must be some basic light which produces flashes and sparkles, but the visible must be analyzed to grasp the specific way in which light appears on each stratum. Thus there are no secrets in principle, although we must analyze to make things visible and legible.

There is almost an neo-Kantian line here about conditions, but for Foucault, we are talking about real rather than possible experience, with no universal subjects, and we have an historical dimension, with strata seen as 'a posteriori syntheses', with no interest in a priori syntheses.

Foucault operates instead with a certain receptivity 'constituted by the units of visibility along with the conditions', and spontaneity, constituted by units of utter ability and conditions. Receptive doesn't imply passive, nor does spontaneity necessarily mean active [because the visible can unleash action and passion, and the spontaneous implies an activity of an Other — not clear to me]. The cogito represents the spontaneity of the understanding, and is to be replaced by the spontaneity of language. Receptivity is no longer a matter of intuition, but concerned with the receptivity of light to produce space and time.

We can see that the utterance is primary, even '"determinant"', but units of visibility are still crucial in producing 'a form of determination'[things resist discourses?]. [Deleuze is going to say that ensuing problems on the precise relation between the visible and the sayable can be resolved by invoking his term the multiplicity]. The visible and the utterable are different in nature, but are always found interpenetrated in every stratum or knowledge [a logical or an empirical necessity?]. The two are linked via 'a mutual presupposition' (247), so there is always something other than what we say, something visible only through images or metaphor. The visible and the utterable do not have the same formation or genealogy. Discipline and Punish shows this over the notion of delinquency, which has both a set of utterances and a form of content in the prison, each with different histories, although they come together in an alliance. Here the method seems to 'assume its historical meaning and development' [it runs backwards would be an unkind way to put it]. In this way [you can have your cake and eat it], arguing for radical heterogeneity but assuming a mutual presupposition on a particular stratum [and as usual, I do not think that these stratifying forces are adequately discussed — are they 'philosophical'in the sense of actualization of the virtual, or something more familiar and political?]

Each stratum or historical formation displays different sorts of capturing and holding, different interpenetrations of utterance and visibility. Sometimes, visible forms of content like prisons produce secondary utterances, developments of delinquency, and sometimes the other way around [as in prison reform]. Here, utterances slip between the visible and the underlying luminescence, between the utterable and specific languages [and again the book on Roussel seems important]. This is because there is something in common between each specific, a 'space of "rarity," of "dissemination", littered with interstices' (248). This permits particular kinds of language to be gathered together [at the virtual or basic level] and also dispersed in specific strata. The same goes for light, where luminosity lurks behind specific flashes or glimpses.

Foucault is not particularly interested in imprisonment except to demonstrate how the conditions of visibility appear in a certain historical formation. Prisons can be seen as forms of exteriority 'in which utterances are disseminated and the visible dispersed': 'we speak, we see and make see, at the same time, although they are not the same thing'. The combinations of visible and utterable are transformed from one stratum to another, although there are no general rules [so what does the transformation?]. The strata are heterogeneous, but sometimes also show 'mutual insertion' [seems to close it off any criticism whatsoever].

Second the  coadaptation of two forms can be positively engendered. This means we have to refer to power and not just knowledge — again the two mutually presuppose each other, although power is primary. We need to investigate power relations themselves, as well as the relation between the two forms — the exercise of power requires relation to other forces. We are not talking about the dominance of a class nor a state apparatus, since power is produced 'in every relation' [so the familiar criticism arises here — we have diluted power so much that it becomes invisible]. Power flows through the class system, 'in such a way that classes result from it, and not the reverse' (249). The state or its legal apparatuses can effect the integration of power, but, like classes, they align forces and integrate them, 'perform the relation of forces'for the strata, acting as 'agents of stratification' presupposing power relations — 'power is exercised before being possessed'.

We are talking here of strategies, although these can be anonymous and almost mute or blind. Social fields do not self structure, nor are they responsible for self-contradiction. The social field itself strategises '(hence a sociology of strategies, as in the work of Pierre Bourdieu)'. This also explains the microphysics of power. Strategies of forces are not the same as the stratification of forms which result. Again, there is no question of scale here, rather just 'heterogeneity'. (250).

This looks like a return to natural law, but both law and nature would be too 'global'. Nietzsche inspires the argument instead. It is rhetoric that leads Foucault to oppose the notion of repressive power, because he's trying to argue that we are not entitled to simply explain it as violence. Instead, the relations between the forces refer to underlying 'functions' [sic], like 'sample and subtract, enumerate and control, compose and increase, etc'. Force both affects and is affected necessarily in relation to other forces which are implied by these capacities.

We should be thinking of different receptivities as a force, capacities to be affected, and spontaneities, as capacities to affect [shades of Spinoza here?]. But now, we have much more flexibility. Seeing and speaking were matters for 'already formed substances' and functions — prisoners, students and workers were not the same substance, nor was imprisonment and teaching the same function. Power relations are different, they can mix and blend and work on non-formed materials and non-formalised functions — exert a general function of control or 'sectorization' over a relatively uninformed population. [Again this will be a more general level than the concrete forms found on the strata].

Foucault uses the term diagram to express these relations of force or power, an abstract functioning, remote from specific use. He talks about disciplinary diagrams, or diagrams of sovereignty [which apparently work on sampling rather than sectorization — all this is in the Archaeology?]. Diagrams also help us explain mutations. 'It is not exactly outside the strata, but it is the outside of the strata'(251) [typical bullshit way to say it operates at the virtual level]. It lies between two strata as 'the place of mutations' which explain their connection. We trace relations of power in a diagram, and the relations of forms defining knowledge in an archive, and the genealogy is similarly extended to trace 'a strategy of forces on which the stratum itself depends' [I still think the term strategy implies some concrete social agent and is irreplaceable although not theorised].

The study of strategies begin in Discipline, but is developed in The Will to Knowledge. Naturally, there is no simple progression between these two books. The diagram is used as an argument to explain how 'the receptive spontaneity of forces accounts for the receptivity of visible forms, the spontaneity of utterable statements and their correlation' [so it does everything]. We see the relationship between forces in the strata 'which would have nothing to embody or actualise without them', although without being actualised, the forces would remain 'unstable, fleeting, almost virtual'.

This has already been hinted at in Archaeology, where regularity was seen to be a property of the utterance. [Naturally] this is not just frequency or probability, 'but a curve connecting singular points' (252) [so an evasion relying on unspecified natural forces producing curves]. Forces relate to determine singular points as affects, 'such that a diagram is always a discharge of singularities', but as in mathematics [evasion!], singular points or singularities are distinguished from the curve. The curve expresses the regular relations of force, and alignment, a convergence of series, a general line of force, and this is what he meant by saying that the utterances are regularities. This [must] imply that the utterance always related to something else of a different nature, something that is not the same as just the meaning of the sentence or the referent of the clause: instead, these are singularities adjacent to general curves of language. The same might be said of visibilities, where [some] specific paintings can be seen as singularities 'by tracing lines of flight [from the general curve] that make them visible'. Foucault was to develop this notion of a general painting description into a theory of description [in order to explore the visible?]. The whole thing must 'result from the diagram of forces that is actualised in them'.

[Then another one of those logical arguments that philosophers like but which are really tautologies]. If a force is related to other forces, there must be some 'irreducible Outside... Through which one force acts on another or is acted on by another' (253). The outside confers the 'variable affectations' produced by either a distance or a relationship. 'Forces are therefore in a perpetual becoming', another history to the history of formations, or perhaps one which 'envelops it'. This is argued in F's article on Nietzsche where struggles or conflicting relations do not take place in a closed field but in some '"non-place, a pure distance"', which operates in the interstices [of stuff which has been actualized]. This outside is not just the external world, nor any conventional form of the exterior, but is represented by the diagram, which can show the disturbing effect of changes in distance or relations. Seeing and speaking relate to conventional exteriors [which can be each other] but 'thinking addresses an outside that no longer has any form. Thinking means reaching non-stratification'. It takes place in the gap between speaking and seeing. The Outside is seen as an '"abstract storm"' which occupies the cracks between seeing and speaking. It follows that thinking itself is not the exercise of a faculty but something that 'must happen to thought', following the intrusion of the outside that produces an interval. It does not offer some subjective interior to unite the visible and the utterable.

We can further see the intrusion of the outside as 'a roll of the dice, as a discharge of singularities' [the reference is to an article in Aesthetics, Method and Epistemology, presumably a collection of Foucault pieces, 1998]. The relationships of forces are re-worked between two diagrams [2 diagrams in historical terms? A diagram for seeing and a diagram for speaking?]. It is not the case that 'anything can connect to anything else', but there is an element of chance: 'It is more like the successive drawing of cards, each one operating on chance but under external conditions determined by the previous draw' (253 – 4), or like a Markov chain [Wikipedia:
serial dependence only between adjacent periods (as in a "chain")] . It can thus be used for describing systems that follow a chain of linked events, where what happens next depends only on the current state of the system. . The composing forces transform when they enter a relation with new forces, so we're not talking about either continuity or something interior, but 'reconnection over the breaks and discontinuities'. This notion is derived from Nietzsche referring to '"the iron hand of necessity shaking the cup of chance"'.

When Foucault talks of the death of man [The Order of Things], it is not that man somehow surpasses himself, but rather that the forces that composed man enter into new combinations. Those forces did not always compose man, but were related to other forces to compose God, producing a notion of the infinite and making thought to refer to the infinite. Then those forces entered into relationship with 'another type of forces', things like 'forces of organization of "life", "production" of wealth "filiation" of language' (254), which produced the sort of man who was finite with a definite history. However, there is a 3rd possibility where new compositions can arise ['must arise'], and both man and God undergo death and new flashes or utterances appear. So the order of man is something that only exists on a particular stratum with a particular relationship of forces. The outside is always 'the opening of the future', an endless one where everything changes. We can draw a diagram to determine the relationships of groups of force, but this does not exhaust the possibilities [surely a proper diagram would?].

The outside is something more than any diagram: it draws [as in drawing cards] new diagrams. There is always a potential in the relation to a specific diagram, provided by a force which is depicted — 'this third power is resistance' (255). Resistance also appears in the form of singularities, '"points, nodes, foci"' that act upon the strata. Resistance actually comes 1st because it 'has a direct relationship with the outside'. Thus 'the social field resists more than it strategises' [all argued in The Will, apparently].

Third. On desire. We have discussed the formal relationships on the strata — knowledge — the relation of forces at the diagram level — power — and the relationship with the outside [philosophised as an absolute relationship or a non-relationship, meaning something beyond the control of human beings?]. What about the inside? Normal conceptions of interiority have to be critiqued, but there might be an inside that is deeper than the usual conceptions, just as the outside is further from the normal external.

The argument here is carried by the notion of the double. The doubling occurs when the outside is folded to become an inside, as in 'the invagination of tissue'. [Again a reference to Roussel]. Thought contacts the outside, but this implies that the outside must appear inside as something which it has not thought [!]: There is an 'un-thought in thought' [a fancy way of saying thought must think about something that is other than thought itself?]. For the classical age, this unthought was the infinite, but for us, it became a fold of the finite, a depth, an inside [often in the form of something that determined thought?]. For Foucault, the fold makes the strata curve [very useful diagram in the book on Foucault, where the outside is literally hemmed in]. [Naturally we have a witty French way of putting this, in terms of the outside now having an inside, or the hemmed section being inside the outside].

Foucault now re-values his earlier work according to this new axis of the inside, the unthought. It was already connected to the question of the subject, who would clearly possess qualities outside of their own thought. This leads to the notion of subjectivation, '(which does not necessarily mean an interiorisation)' (256). The inside is really an operation of the outside, and the relation with the outside is a matter of becoming subject. [Foucault's usual obfuscation renders this as a relation of self to self, which makes sense if we make this a relation of subjective self to objective self]. We might also be able to understand the notion of resistance in this way — something from the outside that is not exhausted by force [maybe]. In any event, we are left with a marvellous French paradox: 'the relationship with oneself forms an inside that is constantly derived from the outside'.

The relationship with the outside comes first, yet it does not determine the relation to self. Subjectivation can oppose stratification or codification. We have an irritating detailed historical example to argue this. The Greeks saw the world in a particular way and had particular utterances which helped them actualize the relationships of forces in their diagram to produce the city state, the family, but also 'eloquence, games, everywhere where at that moment the domination of one over another could take place' (257). A particular relation to self emerged as well, involving such domination — Greeks were expected to manage themselves as well as their house and the citystate. Even so, there was no tight alignment: the relationship to oneself developed only after disconnecting selves from other social forms of power and virtue. We can apply the metaphor of the fold again — 'the relationships of the outside folded to make a double... and allow a relationship to the self to arise that develops according to a new dimension'. Indeed the relationship to the self, governing the self, becomes primary as a model of regulation. The Greeks might have invented this dimension.

For Foucault, this relationship to self 'found the opportunity to occur' [!] in sexuality, because sexual relationships feature some important pole terms — 'spontaneity – receptivity, determinant – determinable, active – passive, masculine role – feminine role' (258). Sexual activity also particularly needs regulation 'because of its violence and expenditure'. Thus it became a key case for self-regulation, and activities took the form of 'governing oneself sexually [regulating pleasures of the body]... Marital relations [connected to the economy of the household]... A mature homosexual pederastic relationship with young men [teaching young boys how to regulate themselves]. Of course there will be no necessary connection between self-regulation and sexual relations, and Foucault struggled to establish a connection, which is why he focused on the Greeks as offering a particular case. In classical Greece, the connection between self-regulation and sexual relations became increasingly "necessary". The Greek case can be contrasted to Christian notions, defining the body in terms of the flesh, and pleasure in terms of desire. So there is a whole history of 'modes of subjectivation' and their connection to the desiring subject.

The inside can take many forms. For example, desire can mean the inside in general, or the particular connection between the inside and the outside including the strata. The relation to self can therefore become 'homologous' to the relations with the outside, making a nice connection where 'all the contents of the inside are in relation with the outside'. The strata can work in different ways, including putting the outside and inside into contact, or, more, making the contents identical.

Thinking combines these 3 axes in a 'constantly changing unity'. It faces different sorts of problems in 'figures of time'. The strata can delve into the past but only to extract successive presents from it, while the relationship with the outside offers possible futures. The inside condenses the past into modes which may not be continuous [Greek or Christian subjectivity], and there is a problem with choosing between 'long and short durations' — when it comes to knowledge and power, Foucault emphasizes short durations, but when referring to pleasure it is long durations. Happily, it all makes sense because we don't save knowledge of power over the long-term, but we do preserve moralities even if we don't believe in them any more [as usual, I want to know who the 'we' is]. The self seems to accumulate the past, the strata carries the present, and the future refers to the relationship to the outside. When we think, we do so within the limits of the present strata. The point of thinking the past for Foucault is to assist a future to come. [Then there is a bit of a weasel about what social change we are talking about — the strata can also 'produce layers that show and tell something new', while the outside offers a more radical questioning], and we need to examine the relationship with our self 'to inspire new modes of subjectivization'.

It is this topology that is his great contribution, 'an entirely new system of previously unknown coordinates', singular philosophical insights and 'unprecedented curves of utterances' it has 'changed what thinking means for us'.

Chapter 35 Zones of Immanence

[About Gandillac, who was Deleuze's supervisor]

The Platonic and mediaeval traditions saw the universe as a chain of being, suspended from the One, a transcendent principle which was serially emanated to form a hierarchy. Entities had more or less actual being or reality according to the distance from the transcendental principle. There is also a rival inspiration involving zones of immanence which proliferate at various stages and levels sometimes connecting levels, and here 'Being is univocal, equal' (261) [so that is the origin of the term?]. Each entity is equally real since each 'actualises its power in immediate vicinity with the 1st cause'. Actual entities are not organised in terms of their distance from the glory of God, they coexist and display two movements — 'complication and explication' [discussed in the book on Leibniz, I recall]. God complicates each thing but each thing explicates God: so 'the multiple is in the one which complicates it, just as the one is in the multiple which explicates it'. The Renaissance did much to develop this imminent conception

Much debate has ensued to reconcile or order these different conceptions. In practice, the notion of immanence tends to produce proliferation in hierarchies, as a kind of inherent anarchy in hierarchy, and atheism in God. Such contamination arises whenever the two conceptions are related, for example when transcendence is reasserted.

Gandillac did much to trace these themes in the development of modern philosophy, through Leibniz. Specific concepts were developed in the early stages such as 'the notion of Posset, which expresses the immanent identity of act and power' (262) [as a kind of potential?]. The seeds of the notion of immanence could also be found in Neoplatonism, where Plotinus argued that as being proceeds from the One it complicates each entity as well as being explicated. The underlying notions were 'Immanence of the image in the mirror, immanence of the tree in the seed' and this produced a whole expressionist philosophy.

'Philosophical concepts also modes of life and modes of activity for the one who invent them... [or gives] them consistency' (263). In the case of Gandillac, it was a matter of implying zones of immanence within hierarchies which then destabilised them, in a humorous whole art of living and thinking, which came over in his interest in friendship and debate at conferences. Again the point in conferences was to organise them 'like successive terraces', to point out zones of immanence within the same topic. He often used philological approaches: again the original thought of an author must include the source text and the target text [linked by the same ideas of complication and explication].

Chapter 36 He Was a Group Star [as in an etoile]

[Obituary piece on F Châtelet, D's friend and chair of phil at Vincennes. Member of a group of friends that included Tournier. Gems include 'for me, Fitzgerald is one of the greatest authors there ever was' (266), and C's own novel linked the creative life with processes of self-destruction, thought with fatigue. An early critic of the author function insisting there are other functions in creative domains, inspired by the cinema: 'managing {your life and your work} is really a function'. A director {of other people studies} and in this sense of pedagogue. Interested in endless renewal of philosophy, explaining his interest which ranged from classical Greece to Marxist atheism, which also drew on substantial collective work at Vincennes. A combination of creativity production and management].

Chapter 37 Preface to the American Edition of the Movement Image

[I think this is the same preface as in my edition]. The aim is to 'bring certain cinematographic concepts to light' (269) not based on technical matters like shots, nor critical terms such as the genres. Conventional linguistics are also rejected. Instead cinema is seen as 'a composition of images and signs, and intelligible preverbal material (pure semiotics)'. Linguistics by contrast abolishes the image and does away with the sign.

Cinematographic concepts are types of images and the signs which correspond to them. Images of cinema seem automatic. They appear first as a movement image and this can be broken into primary types — perception, affection and action. These images also produce a representation of time but indirectly, through editing and movement.

A more direct time image appears in cinema after the war, which reflects the trend in philosophy to reverse the link between time and movements — time no longer is an effect of movements, rather 'the anomalies of movement depend on time' (270). These can include false movement. New images arise combined with new signs. Perhaps the key trend is the 'explosion [destruction] of the sensorimotor schema', which used to bind perceptions affections and actions together. Its abandonment has had a more important effect than say the emergence of talkies.

There is no question of valuing modern cinema more highly. In each case, the analysis deals 'exclusively with cinematic masterpieces which do not allow any such hierarchy of evaluation. Cinema is always perfect, as perfect as it can be, given the images and signs it invents and uses'. The monographs written by the great auteurs are important sources. Auteurs should be considered as great thinkers as much as other artists: it is unlikely that they will be threatened by television and new technology.

Hitchcock emerges as important at the end of book one because of the image he seems to have invented — 'the image of mental relations' (271). Relations of always been important in English philosophy as affecting the meaning of the terms that are related. Hitchcock shows this in his 'minor comedy' Mr and Mrs Smith, where a couple suddenly learn that their marriage is illegal. Hitchcock is also situated between the two cinemas, classic and modern.

Chapter 38 Foucault and Prison

There were a lot of groups formed as a result of 1968, some of which survived afterwards. Foucault had no historical legacy from 68 and so formed a new kind of group — the GIP. He did not wish to come under the control of other left-wing groups or parties. The group was quite new as a result, reflection of him and of his colleague Defert. It had no immediate policy goals, but acted rather as an information group, actually as a 'thought experiment' (273).

The heritage from Nietzsche led Foucault to see the need to think about particular kinds of experience, in this case of prison, to make something visible. The initial interest was to research the experience, but the research found an important dimension focusing on humiliation, the social use of prison to break people, aside from the official theoretical purpose. Those activities were not supervised. There was a prison inside the prison. The GIP worked with prisoners' families and former inmates.

Foucault developed his political intuition, 'the feeling that something is going to happen and happen here' (274). He saw there were all sorts of small disturbances and little movements in prisons. He did not intend to encourage them, but simply to make them visible in their full 'comedy and misery'. Seeing was as important as writing, and it uncovers the intolerable. Thinking was a reaction to this intolerable experience. As a result Foucault developed 'thinking as experimentation and thinking as vision, as capturing the intolerable' (275). It was not the result of an explicit morality or system of ethics, but rather pushing thinking towards a limit of what was tolerable. Everyone knew that the prison inside the prison existed, but no one actually saw it. There was sometimes even humour, not really indignation. The group was highly specific and thus influential, and all sorts of unexpected people took part [some are listed 276]. Deleuze joined. He remembers participation as endless activity driven by Foucault's 'enormous life force'.

Eventually Foucault disbanded the GIP, partly because other organizations and individuals, often former inmates, continued the work. However, Foucault saw it as losing, and thought that everything had returned to normal soon after the group closed — 'not repression but worse: someone speaks but it is as if nothing was said' (277). However, much was actually achieved especially in the formation of prisoners' movements, finding a voice. Significant voices are often excluded, such as those of the children in conferences on elementary school. The GIP was a way of forcing people to listen to the prisoner voice, to uncover that things were being done beyond the deprivation of freedom, that everyone knew about this but it still happened.

Foucault's notion of the intellectual and the way of life were different from Sartre's. Sartre saw the intellectual as classically operating in the name of superior values like 'the Good, the Just and the True' (278). Foucault was 'much more functional; he always was a functionalist', but it was his own functionalism, seeing and speaking with what was available. It was not just a matter of gaining information, nor of finding the truth, but rather producing 'statements about prison' which none of the participants had been able to produce themselves [emphasising 'produce']. When Foucault spoke, it was exceptional — he was decisive but not authoritarian. A statement was something special, based on both seeing and speaking, using words as the production of statements, and things as 'the visible formations'. 'The idea is to see something imperceptible in the visible' (279).

Of course others have to speak, but the question is about the importance of what is produced by statements, new types of statements [the example is the novel statements produced by Lenin]. The point is not to seek the truth 'but produce new conditions for statements' [horribly multicult]. 1968 produced new statements that no one had used before. Hitler produced new statements, and in his case they were 'diabolical and very annoying' [!].

Involvement in the group produced very full days, producing new practices. Although there were no major changes in prison, there were movements in prison which GIP amplified as a result of articles and lobbying. This paved the way for new types of utterances on prisons.

Foucault had a different conception of society from Deleuze. Deleuze sees societies as 'something that is constantly escaping in every direction… More fluid… It flows monetarily; it flows ideologically. It is really made up of lines of flight' (280). The problem really is to stop flow, and these powers 'come later'. For Foucault, the surprise was that we could still resist powers, but Deleuze's view is the opposite, that governments are able to block flows. Society as a fluid for D, but for Foucault it was an architecture.

Foucault was admirable and very funny. He was someone with whom you could 'speak of trifles'[lovely chance for a misunderstanding based on a direct quote there]. He was prone to regard those who invented new styles as mad. Although they liked each other they worked separately and lost contact towards the end — 'in the end I needed him and he did not need me'.

Chapter 39 The Brain is The Screen

[Already summarised on the website]

Chapter 40 Occupy Without Counting: Boulez, Proust and Time

Boulez has often discussed his relationship to writers and poets. Musical and literary texts are continuous across what seems to separate, but these relationships are varied and irregular. For example Boulez often cites Proust, but has another sort of implicit relationship as if he knows Proust by heart.

Boulez produced an important alternative: 'count to occupy space–time or occupy without counting' (292). In the first case we measure 'to generate relationships' in the second, we 'implement relationships without measure'. We can see the relationship with Proust as of the second kind — to occupy without counting, without measure.

Boulez noticed that in Proust sounds and noises are separate from characters, places and names and become independent 'motifs' that can change over time. For example a motif can be associated at first with a landscape or character, 'like a signpost', but then it takes on a life of its own and becomes 'the sole varying landscape or the sole changing character' (293). We see this with the little musical phrase that stands for emotional alchemy, and apparently there is some homage to Wagner. For Boulez, Proust understood the independent life of the motif as in Wagner, the way it 'enters a continuous variation that presupposes a new form of time', initially for 'musical beings'. All the emotions, the jealousies and slumbers are detached from characters and themselves become characters, 'individuations without identity, Jealousy I, Jealousy II, Jealousy III'.

Variables developing in independent time become 'a "block of duration"', specifically a variable sound block. The variation by these blocks can be traced along an 'independent, non-pre-existing dimension', the diagonal, which indicates that we cannot reduce sound to harmonic vertical or melodic horizontal. The musical act is epitomized for Boulez in this diagonal, under different conditions, polyphonic combinations, fusions of harmony and melody, the abolition of vertical and horizontal [traced back to various composers]. The diagonal becomes 'a vector–block of harmony and melody, a function of temporalization'. We can see the composition of Proust as similarly offering 'constantly changing blocks of duration, at varying speeds and free modifications, along the diagonal forms the only unity of the work, the transversal [NB -- sohere the transversal is a matter of a different dimension?] of all the parts' (294). The search is not governed by vertical dimensions, harmonic cuts in landscapes, nor melodic lines of journeys. Rather the diagonal runs '"from one window to another"', a succession of points of view and the movement of the point of view, 'joined in a block of transformation or duration'.

However the speeds, augmentations or deductions of duration 'are inseparable' for more conventional metric relationships and proportionalities. The smallest unit is the pulse, the tempo involves 'the inscription of a certain number of unities in a specific time'. Both are found in striated space–time, permitting the rational determination of cuts, and some measure that grasps the sizes of intervals between cuts. By contrast smooth space-time is not pulsed and is detached from striated space. Cuts are indeterminate, 'irrational', chronometry is only global, 'measures are replaced by distances and proximities', according to the density of what appears. A measure of occupation replaces a measure of speed, so that one occupies without counting. Boulez called the corresponding blocks of duration '"bubbles of time"'.

Numbers are not fully metricated, but act as [nominals] indicators, 'numbering numbers' (295). They distribute elements. One block of time succeeds another not as a normal series but rather as an order. Boulez sees striated and smooth space as in constant communication, however alternating, overlapping and exchanging. Sometimes, a homogenous block in striated time can look like smooth time, and vice versa if there are unequal distributions in smooth time so that we get 'densification or the accumulation of proximities'.

We see these distinctions when Proust described the difference between the Sonata and the septet, a closed plane on the one hand and an open space or bubble on another. In the Sonata, the little phrase indicates speed, but in the septet the phrases indicate occupation.

More generally, characters can be seen in two ways — as a box varying in speed and quality depending on the period in time, or as a multiplicity or nebula, displaying degrees of density or rareness, 'according to a statistical distribution'(295) — the example is the two Ways which offer 'two statistical directions'. Albertine is both striated and smooth, sometimes transforming, other times offering diffusion. The whole novel can be read as both smooth and striated.

There is far more than just a theme of memory in the novel. Boulez talks about the '"praise of amnesia"', from Stravinsky. Memory, even involuntary memory, is rather limited in Proust, and is exceeded by overflowing art. The real problem of art turns on perception not memory. Music 'is pure presence and calls for an extension of perception to the limits of the universe' (296). Expanded perception is the whole aim of art or even of philosophy, and this requires a break with memory and the identities that limit perceptions.

Tonal language in music can be specifically identified with the first-degree octave or accord, but blocks and bubbles of music reject such identity and require us to think again about variations and distributions. This highlights the problem of perception — how can constantly varying individuals be perceived, especially if they evade measurement. In musical sound, for example, metrication can describe real phenomena but convey no identity. There are holes in perception in music.

Sometimes these can be filled by writing [not sure if this means writing music or writing commentaries on music] , so that reading provides a kind of memory. But this displaces the problem because we then have to perceive the writing in a nonmetric way, without conventional understandings. Boulez suggests a third space-time, 'adjacent to the smooth and striated', 'the universe of the Fixed' (297) where we can perceive such writing. We enter it through some 'surprising simplification' in musical pieces, unusual accentuation, 'like a gesture brushing against the formal structure or an envelope isolating a group of constitutive elements'. Some of these are identified in the little phrase, where a particular sustained high note apparently conceals 'the mystery of its incubation' [quoting Boulez]. We are also told that in 'writing' the septet [that is commenting upon or explaining it?], Fixed indications were used. Thus 'that is the role of involuntary memory in Proust, to create envelopes of fixed [sic]'.

It is not that these fixed elements re-establish simple identity. Proust saw that even when repeated, elements do not acquire an identity. Rather that identity is seen as 'a quality common to elements that would not be repeated without it' [the example is the common pitch in music]: the fixed is not the same. Instead, we are to identify 'variation or individuation without identity'. In this way perception is extended to include variations and distributions, the identification of 'difference as such'.

It is the underlying set of tastes common to isolated moments that identify [the Guermantes 'way', for me, Combray for Deleuze], and this is 'always different from itself' [that is capable of endlessly novel and apparently spontaneous sets of judgements as in the elite habitus in Bourdieu]. In specific terms we can see in music and in literature the 'functional play of repetition and difference' and we are to infer the 'organic play of identity and variation'. In these fixed moments, we are forced to perceive variation and dissemination, and the relationship between the envelopes display a continual moving relationship.

We can perceive forces that are ordinarily not perceived, imperceptible. These forces combine with the forces of time. We often perceive things in time, and we are aware of units of chronometry, but we do not see 'time as a force, time itself'. Sound can be used as an 'intermediary that makes time sensible', perceptible. The material can be organized to 'capture the forces of time and make them into sound'(298) [apparently the project of a certain Messiaen].

Boulez's project echoes the literary project of Proust in new conditions. He develops the 'temporalization functions' in sound material, to be captured by the musician. He operates with 'implicated time'. Like Proust, aspects of implicated time are multiple, but are also 'simply reduced to a "lost – found"'. Lost time is a full function of time, and extinguishing sound 'is an affair of timbre', it's extinguishing 'in the sense that timbre is like love and repeats its end rather than its origin' [beats me, maybe that once timbre or love is extinguished, they persist even in a strange absent form, their endings echo, a kind of indication of their importance?].

When we search for time again or research it, we form blocks of duration and trace their journey along the diagonal. This does not take the form of harmonic chords, but often appear as 'veritable hand–to–hand fights', sometimes rhythmical, or sometimes like embraces where one sound subdues another and vice versa. Time is re-gained by being identified, but only in the instant: with any luck we can go on to perceive the envelope of fixed [why we leave out the indefinite article is beyond me]. Finally, Boulez identifies utopian time which is discovered after we penetrate the underlying secrets, discovering the smooth, realizing that human beings occupy a place in time which is far more significant than the places they occupy in space. When we count, we can also perceive a place which is beyond measure.'

Overall Boulez meets Proust to produce some significant 'fundamental philosophical concepts'. (299)

Chapter 41 Preface to the American Edition of Difference and Repetition

[Already summarised here]

Chapter 42 Preface to the American Edition of Dialogues

[Already summarised here]

Chapter 43 Preface for the Italian Edition of A Thousand Plateaus

[Notes on the book here]. ATP follows up AO, but they have quite different destinies and contexts. AO was written in the middle of 68, but ATP emerged 'in an environment of indifference, the calm we find ourselves in now' (308). 'A Thousand Plateaus was the least well-received of all our books', although they still like it. AO was a big success, although it failed in the long term in that it did not 'put Oedipus to rest once and for all' (309). Political reaction to 68 demonstrates the power of the Oedipal family to this day with its effects on psychoanalysis literature and thought. ATP seem to be a move forward into unknown territory, only hinted at in AO.

The three major claims of AO were: (1) the unconscious works like a factory and not a theatre, focusing on production not representation; (2) delirium, 'or the novel' [?] is world historical, about races, tribes, cultures and social position [a weak Marxism dealt with this in AO]; universal history is real, but it is a history of contingency — flows of the object of history and these are 'canalised through primitive codes like the over coding of the despot or the flexible decoding of capitalism.

The ambition was Kantian in a way, 'a kind of Critique of Pure Reason for the unconscious', focusing on syntheses proper to the unconscious, history as the functioning of these syntheses, and Oedipus as an inevitable illusion falsifying historical production. However, ATP is post Kantian, but still not Hegelian — it is 'constructivist', a theory of multiplicities for themselves, 'wherever the multiple reaches the state of the substantive' (310) as opposed to the multiple in syntheses conditioned by the unconscious.

The Plateau on the Wolf man dismisses psychoanalysis and argues that 'the distinction between the conscious and the unconscious, nature and history, body and soul' is not enough to explain multiplicities, which are 'reality itself'. There is no necessary unity or totality or subject — processes that produce them are found in the multiplicities. The main elements of multiplicities are singularities. Relations are becomings, and events haecceities '(... subjectless individuations)'. Space-time is smooth in the multiplicity. The model of actualization is the rhizome. The plane of composition is a plateau '(continuous zones of intensity)', traversed by vectors and producing territories, all with various degrees of deterritorialization.

History becomes a matter of much more variety [and empirical investigation] — 'where and how does each encounter come about?' [Absolutely impossible to study of course, and again weak generalisations from Marxism  and/or Autonomism really guide the study] we can certainly reject the usual notion of progress towards civilization and replace it with coexisting formations. There are 'primitive groups' occupying 'a bizarre marginality'; despotic communities, centralized by apparatuses of state; nomadic war machines in a paradoxical relation with the state — unable to control it without risking the state appropriating it; processes of subjectivation in the state and in warrior apparatuses; convergent processes in capitalism and in its states, and modes of revolutionary action [so the usual political pessimism here and in the two above]; the 'comparative factors' (311) of 'earth, territory, and deterritorialization'.

The last three factors are 'playing freely, that is aesthetically, in the ritornello' — birdsong, the 'great song of the earth, when the Earth cries out' [what is that shit — some gesture to eco-concerns?], the harmony of the spheres, the voice of the Cosmos. The book would have liked to assemble ritornellos or lieder for each plateau. Philosophy is nothing but music or cosmic sprechgesang {chant]. The owl of Minerva has screeches and songs, so 'the principles in philosophy are screeches, around which concepts develop their songs' [Arty bollocks].

Chapter 44 What is the Creative Act?

[About cinema and philosophy. Originally a filmed lecture paying homage to Straub and Huillet]. What does it mean to have an idea? Everyone knows it's a rare event, a celebration. And it is never just a general idea, but one that is already 'dedicated to a particular field' (312) like philosophy, painting or science. Ideas are best seen as potentials which are already engaged in a mode of expression, and thus already inseparable from a mode of expression.

Can philosophy think about cinema? Actually, no one needs philosophy to think and the only effective thinkers in cinema are filmmakers and critics, or enthusiastic spectators, and they don't need philosophy, any more than mathematicians do. Philosophy has its own content, and it is just as inventive or creative as any other discipline — it creates or invents concepts. These do not simply exist ready-made 'in a kind of heaven', (313) but have to be produced [Gale quotes this, but not in its context of course]. This production is in the context of a necessity — philosophers do not create for the fun of it. The necessity itself is rather complex. It implies that philosophers create concepts but do not get involved with specific thinking, even about cinema.

People who do cinema create blocks of movement or duration. It is not just a matter of invoking a story — it has to involve blocks of movement and duration to be cinema, unlike painting or philosophy. Science also constructs its own blocks — scientists invent rather than discover, and do so as creatively as any artist. Scientists invent and create functions. The function 'occurs when there is a regulated correspondence [later 'correlation'] between at least two sets' (314): the basic notion of science is the notion of a set, but this is not a concept.

Of course practitioners in different fields can speak to each other, but not about creation — that 'is something very solitary' (315), although discussion can take place on the basis of the creation. All creative disciplines have 'a common limit' in that they deal with space–time. The formation of these is always involved, but that 'never emerges for its own sake'.

So in Bresson, we find disconnected spaces, like corners of a cell [Joan of Arc obviously] which are assembled together as a series of little pieces. Other filmmakers use wholes spaces. Bresson was one of the first to show space like this and others have borrowed the idea. Overall, his blocks of duration and movement 'will tend towards this type of space among others' [weasel]. He raises the question of what connects these pieces of space if not the usual determinants, and the answer is 'the hand connects them', the hand in the image has particular 'cinematographic value'; there are manual links, hence an 'exhaustion of hands in his films' (316). He has particularly valorised tactile values, and that's what 'the excellent images of hands' do — it is not done for fun but out of necessity.

Some ideas in cinema would work in other disciplines, like a novel, but they would not have the same appearance. Ideas in cinema must be cinematographic, already engaged in the cinematographic process. It becomes a problem when filmmakers want to adapt a novel — they must have ideas in cinema that 'resonate' (316) [weasel] with those in the novel. Sometimes this is powerful. It is not necessary for the novel to be particularly brilliant, as long as the ideas 'correspond'

In Kurosawa,, the link is with Shakespeare or Dostoevsky, and the oddity is that he is from a different culture. We can resolve this if we look at Dostoevsky's characters, which are often troubled, curious — characters suddenly forget what they're doing, they are constantly caught up in emergencies, but they know that there are still more urgent questions which they cannot put their finger on [much seems to depend on The Idiot]. 'All of Kurosawa' characters are like that', which shows he shares a problem with Dostoevsky [especially in Ikuru, but also in The Seven Samurai, dealing with immediate emergencies, but haunted by the profound question of what a samurai is in that particular society

An idea is not a concept, not philosophy. It might be possible to draw a concept from ideas, as when Minelli had an idea about dreams — that they most of all concern 'those who are not dreaming'(318). Someone else's dream produces danger, 'dreams are a terrifying will to power' and the rest of us become victims.

Cinematographic ideas are also seen in dissociations between seeing and speaking in films like those of Syberberg, the Straubs or Duras. Cinema seems to have developed these dissociations, although perhaps the idea could be implemented in the theatre. Someone speaks, but we are shown something else — the speech is 'under what we are shown'(319), and only film can really show this. The words rise, but what they are about sinks underground. This is a cinematographic idea, impossible to develop in other media. It offers nothing less than 'a veritable transformation of elements', that 'suddenly makes cinema resonate with the qualitative physics of the elements'. It offers transformation, a circulation of cinematic elements. The Straubs show this best — we see a deserted ground, but something lies underneath it, as we know from what the voices telling us: if the voice speaks of corpses, for example, a whisper of wind or a hollow in the land also takes on that meaning. [Can't thinkof the example -- I'm sure I've seen it]

Having an idea is not just a matter of communication, 'the transmission and propagation of information' (320). It might consist of imperatives directions — 'order words', which make up a system of control. We might well be entering a control society. Foucault talked about sovereign or disciplinary societies, the latter being characterised by establishing areas of confinement. However, this was not his final word, nor did he say that disciplinary societies were eternal. We are entering a new type of society, still with remnants of the disciplinary ones, but focus this time on control. Places of confinement are no longer needed, there is a decentralisation tendency which extends to workshops and factories, and new kinds of punishment. Even schools are changing [with hints of an impending education permanente, 322]. Control is not discipline, but the means of control are multiplying: at the same time they seem to provide full freedom of movement [the example is the combination of freedom and regulation produced by the modern highway].

There may well be counter information, as when escaping Jews told us about German concentration camps. This was not a problem for Hitler. It only becomes a problem if it turns into acts of resistance.

A work of art is not an instrument of communication and has nothing to do with it. It contains no information. It should best be seen in terms of 'a fundamental affinity' with acts of resistance. Works of art are not universally accessible, however, so what makes it a genuine active resistance? For Malraux, art was the only thing that resisted death. We might take these remarks as a preliminary to inventing a concept — works of art do indeed resist death, for example ancient art still affects us. [Then some ridiculous Parisian waffle: 'Every active resistance is not a work of art, even though, in a certain way, it is. Every work of art is not an act of resistance, and yet, in a certain way, it is' (323)]

Back to the Straubs. The speech act arising in the air while the object goes underground is an act of resistance. This is so in all of their works [Moses, America, Not Reconciled, or the music video on Bach]. Bach's speech act tells us his music is an active resistance, a struggle against the separation of the profane and the sacred. The active resistance ends with a cry [out out get out]. This shows a double aspect to an act of resistance, both human and the act of art [applies to all politicised art, surely, even to all signed art?]. It resists death with both aspects.

There is a close and mysterious relationship between human struggle and a work of art. Klee was right to say that sometimes the people are missing, that they do not yet exist, so the fundamental affinity is postponed and unclear. [Luckily for the political thesis] 'there is no work of art that does not call on people who does not yet exist' (324).

Chapter 45 What voice brings to the text

Philosophy creates concepts with 'speed and slowness, movements, dynamics that expand and contract throughout the text' (325). They are not easily linked to separate characters ['actors'], but our characters themselves, clashing or fulfilling each other, following rhythms, 'movements of the mind in space and time'. Actors can however dramatize the concept.

Giving concepts a voice reveals that concepts are not abstract [and help us see that?] Concepts cannot be distinguished from a way of perceiving things: 'the concept forces us to see things differently', as in philosophical conceptions of space. Concepts 'are also inseparable from affects', 'new manners of seeing, an entire "pathos," joy and anger that formed the feelings of thought' (325 –6). The combination of concept, percept and affect 'animates the text'. The actor's voice should bring forth new perceptions and new affects that surround the concept as read or spoken, in a whole 'theatre of reading' (326). [He particularly likes a certain Alain Cuny and describes an ideal reading of Spinoza] 'the powerful slowness of the rhythm is broken here and there by unprecedented precipitation. Waves, but also lines of fire.' We would then get the necessary perceptions through which Spinoza grasps the world, and 'all the affects to grasp the soul'.

Chapter 46 correspondence with Dionys Mascolo

[On M's book, which he likes. M replies with classic French courtesy. I've tried to summarize the meat of the correspondence below]. M apparently proposes some '"upheaval of general sensibility"' which will lead to new kinds of thoughts, dispositions to thought. M explains that this statement of his is largely implicit, because everyone is suspicious of thinking, even in philosophical thought. D proposes friendship, but does not see it as particularly important, focusing rather on categories and situations as pretexts for thought — jealous love for Proust, for example. M seems unique in seeing his friendship with Blanchot as a pretext for thought, as in philos, and argues that this sense of philos has been crucial in the development of European philosophy. M replies that the wariness in thinking about thinking can only come from a certain confidence following the sharing of thought, although we must be wary about that too. This still leaves the problem of the origins of feelings of friendship, especially if it excludes distrust. Apparently, it all turns on the notion of 'communism of thought' (331). D still worries that a friend can become a condition of thoughts 'without losing his or her singularity' (332). [I think much of this is beyond me, because it seems to turn on shared understandings of French literature and what people have said about thinking].

Chapter 47 Stones

[About Palestinians again]. Palestinians are being made to pay the debts that Europe owes the Jews. Zionists have built their case on the recent genocide but have used the sufferings of Palestinians as stones to build the new state — Irgun's bombs killed Palestinians as well as English settlements.

The Americans have made the whole thing into a 'multibillion dollar Western' (333). The whole thing depends on Israel being established in an empty land, denying the existence of Palestinians, while asking them to recognize the state of Israel. The Palestinians had been fighting in defence of their land, stones and way of life, from the very beginning. It is a mistake to think of them as Arabs from somewhere else. It is a mistake to think of Arabs as all sharing some common bond. The Palestinians will never be totally chased away and erased.

The recent fighting [this piece was written in 1988] involves the suffering of the innocent again. The Israeli secret service may be admirable, but should not be allowed to determine its politics. There are uncomfortable historical echoes [highly relevant to the recent debates in the Labour Party about Zionism and whether or not accusing Israel of Nazi tendencies is anti-Semitic];

'"They are all named Abu," declares an Israeli official after the assassination of Abu Jihad [a mate of Arafat's, apparently assassinated in 1989 --but the dates in the notes conflict!]. Does he recall the hideous sound of those voices that said: "They are all named Levy?"' (334).

The Israelis hope to succeed through 'infinite occupation', but protest from Palestinians ['the stones raining down on them'] will only remind us that there is a place 'where the debt has been reversed'. Palestinians own these stones. Europe cannot pay its debt at the expense of several murders a day, nor with third-party agreements, because there is no third-party. 'The Palestinians have become part of the soul of Israel', and are able to constantly torment it.

Chapter 48 Postscript to the American edition: A Return to Bergson

[ I have notes on this here. In my edition it appears as Deleuze's Afterword]

Chapter 49 What is a Dispositif?

Foucault analyses concrete dispositifs or apparatuses, and these aren't to be understood as 'a skein, a multi-linear whole' (338) composed of lines which follow directions and trace processes [rather than enclosed areas or objects, including subjects and language]. The line sometimes converge and sometimes diverged. Each one is broken 'bifurcating and forked', and there are derivations. Thus objects utterances subjects are best seen as 'vectors or tensors'. When Foucault examines three major instances — 'Knowledge, Power and Subjectivity', they should be seen not as definite areas defined once and for all, but rather as 'chains of variables that are torn from each other'. There are always new dimensions or lines, appearing in a crisis, and that includes crises in thought. It is like Melville on the importance of lines. Lines both sediment and fracture. We can map them, like 'a survey of unexplored lands', and this is Foucault's '"field work"' (339). You have to position yourself on the lines and see how they don't just compose an apparatus but pass through it.

The main dimensions of an apparatus are best understood as curves [see above], of visibility and utterance. Apparatuses like Roussel's machines which 'make one see and talk'. Visibility itself is not a general light illuminating objects, but rather lines of light that produce 'variable figures inseparable from an apparatus'[the usual circularity to avoid determinism]. Each apparatus has a 'regimen of light' distributing the visible and the invisible, 'generating or eliminating an object'. We see this in painting, but also in architecture, as when the prison becomes an optical machine. Utterances also have their lines of enunciation where their elements are distributed. Enunciations are also curves that distribute variables, grouped in regimes of utterance, producing for example a science or a literary genre, laws or social movement. They are not subjects or objects, but rather regimes. Sometimes the lines cross the thresholds becoming aesthetic, or scientific or political [utterances? Utterances and apparatuses?] [I still think this notion of a threshold was introduced horribly late to cover some embarrassment of relativism in Foucault's Archaeology].

Apparatuses have lines of force to move along the lines, sometimes rectifying curves, drawing tangents, surrounding paths, linking 'seeing to speaking and vice versa'(340), mixing words and things to 'carry out their battles'. Every relationship between one point and another is a line of force and every point in an apparatus therefore has one. The line of force specifically is combined with other lines, but it can be untangled [in some sort of history of thought — Foucault combines 'Roussel, Brissett and the painters Magritte and Rebeyrolle {try this link}'] lines of force offer a necessary dimension of power, as a third dimension of space. Again this is interior to the apparatus and varies with them, and it is 'composed with knowledge'. [So we are ignoring, as the McCannell's once argued, crude nasty and direct forms of power including physical violence?].

Lines of subjectivation in Foucault have been much misunderstood. Foucault discovered them after a crisis in his thought when he had to rework the apparatuses and in particular 'prevent them from closing up behind impenetrable lines of force imposing definitive contours' [he risked objectivism]. It is the same crisis as in Leibniz, when thought breaks out just when it threatens to become complete and fully resolved. Foucault realised that apparatuses could only be circumscribed 'by an enveloping line' [that gave them coherence?] and which prevented the intrusion of other vectors.

Lines of force can bend back, meander and go underground, turn back on themselves, become a 'Self' (341). These are not pre-existing determinations, but rather a process, 'a production of subjectivity in an apparatus' [a kind of coming to self-consciousness?], and thus dependent on the apparatus for its development. 'It is a line of flight', escaping the previous lines. The self involves a 'process of individuation'affecting groups and people, 'eluding established lines of force and constituted knowledge. It is a kind of surplus value. Not every apparatus necessarily has it'. These processes of subjectivation are found first in the apparatus of the Athenian citystate. There, forces operated through the 'rivalry between free men'. In turn, another line develops 'according to which the one who commands free men must also be master of himself', developing a peculiar kind of autonomous subjectivation, eventually able to provide new knowledge and new powers. [So the old dodge of resorting to a detailed empirical example -- see De Certeau].

Lines of subjectivation can operate at the extreme edge of an apparatus and produce another apparatus, as in '"lines of fracture"'. There is no general formula. Foucault was going to show that there could be other processes of subjectivation beyond the Greek model, say in Christianity or modern societies. We might also speculate about apparatuses where subjectivation goes through marginal excluded people rather than aristocrats or a limited number of free men [and Deleuze has an example of his own relating to China, 341 – 2 — apparently freed slaves were left isolated and so develop their own form of social life with corresponding forms of knowledge and power]. The agenda set by Foucault here will be eventually very fruitful [it wasn't because there was no method to follow]. Nietzsche stressed the role of the nobles in defining the good, but in other circumstances the excluded, the sinners, the hermits or heretics can be subjectivised, so we could have a whole typology of subjective formations.

In summary then, apparatuses are 'composed of lines of visibility, utterance, lines of force, lines of subjectivation, lines of cracking, breaking and ruptures' (342). These are mixed and intertwined, sometimes augmenting and sometimes mutating assemblages [general theory as usual to cover all possibilities]. [At least] we can repudiate any universals — they themselves must be explained. [In reality] all lines are lines of variation without even constant coordinates. When we talk about apparent universals like 'the One, the Whole, the True, the object, the subject', we are citing the effects of processes 'of unification, totalisation, verification, objectification, subjectivation' and these are always 'immanent to an apparatus'. Each apparatus is a multiplicity where there are processes in becoming, and different forms of operation from other apparatuses.

Foucault offers us a philosophy which is 'a pragmatism, a functionalism, a positivism, a pluralism' (343) [with no consistent methodology to explore any of these aspects, only virtuoso performances]. The attempt to apply reason to the segments or regions 'may cause the greatest problem', and Foucault prefers Nietzsche's 'historicity of reason' [itself based on a really weak and partisan sociology of knowledge]. He is aware of other research on forms of rationality [and Canguilhem and Bachelard are quoted here] and of 'sociopolitical research into the modes of rationality in power' [actually citing none other than Max Weber!]. He wanted to explore for himself 'study of the types of "reasonable" in potential subjects', but denied any universal Reason, 'reflection, communication or consensus'. Apparently, here he had 'a relationship with the Frankfurt School'and its successors, but this was misunderstood — there could be no general crisis or disaster for Reason either. For Foucault, reason constantly bifurcates, with only local constructions or collapses.

There is no point in objecting to Foucault on the grounds that we cannot judge the values of apparatuses if we abandon transcendental values. One option might be to say that 'all apparatuses are equal (nihilism)', but instead we might evaluate them against 'immanent criteria' as in Spinoza or Nietzsche, relating to possibilities for freedom and creativity. Foucault's aesthetic criteria, applied to life, offers exactly this sort of immanent evaluation in place of a transcendental judgement — and this takes place in his final books. [But the problem does not go away — these possibilities are still limited and relativized by apparatuses? As Deleuze puts it, Foucault was offering 'an intrinsic aesthetics of modes of existence as the final dimension of apparatuses']. [This implicit notion of the immanent, or the virtual in D's term, is at the heart of D's rescue of Foucault charged with inconsistency on the relation between the sayable and the visible].

Another result is a philosophy that turns from the eternal to the new [very important for a professional academic, of course]. The new here relates to 'variable creativity for the apparatuses' (344), and is a contribution to the great debate about how we can never produce anything new. Foucault did not want to judge utterances by their "originality"and emphasised instead their regularity, but here what he meant was a curve passing through singular points, 'the differential values of the group of utterances' [that is their incorporation of different rates of change?]. Even if utterances contradict, we are still not entitled to claim that that makes one of them new: the regime of enunciation is what is new, including its ability to include contradictions. Thus there is a regime of utterances appearing with the French or Russian Revolutions, providing a whole 'content of newness and creativity'. Whether this turns into social change depends on the operation of lines of force.

Lines of subjectivation seem 'particularly apt'(345) to outline paths of creation, which can be tried out until an apparatus breaks — apparently Foucault was to explore this in terms of Christian processes, but this remains unpublished. Of course nonreligious struggles can also be creative, and a general Christian subjectivation does not describe all the current possibilities.

The newness of an apparatus provides its currency. This notion refers not only to what we are at the moment [since 'we belong to these apparatuses and act in them'], but what we are becoming, especially becoming other. This needs to be distinguished in each apparatus. We can investigate history, the archive, 'the design of what we are and cease being', and what is current, turning on a notion of an Other with which we 'already coincide'.

Foucault did not just see modern societies as offering disciplinary apparatuses instead of apparatuses of sovereignty, but also saw disciplinary apparatuses as 'the history of what we are slowly ceasing to be'. He foresaw the importance of an apparatus based on constant control. There are emerging productions of subjectivity which can resist this as well. We must untangle lines of force and possibility, the archive from the current, and in particular 'the part of analysis and the part of diagnosis' (346) [the latter presupposing possibilities for action?]. Foucault wanted philosophy to act against time, for the future, the untimely or non-current, 'the becoming that splits away from history, the diagnosis that relays analysis on different paths'. This is not prediction exactly, but rather just being aware of the unknown possibilities. A quote from the Archaeology indicates this — [Foucault says we should look at things that surround our present, things outside the archive, the possibilities involved in the archive, perhaps by reawakening older discourses, looking for what can no longer be said. This is diagnosis which 'releases us'from continuity, challenges our temporal identity, breaks with teleology, attends to the other and the outside. In particular, diagnosis '"does not establish the recognition of our identity through the play of distinctions. It establishes that we are difference, that our reason is the difference between discourses, our history the difference between times, our self the difference between masks"' (347)].

So we have groups of lines of stratification or sedimentation, of actualization or creativity. Foucault's method first of all establishes a specific archive, using 'extremely new historical means' [his archaeology or genealogy], focusing on things like hospitals and clinics. But there is another half of the analysis, which he does not pursue explicitly in the works [but does in the interviews] because this would 'avoid confusing things' and enable 'trusting in his readers'. This other half would investigate what is meant by say madness or prison today, what new modes of subjectivation are appearing [which apparently haunted him until the end]. The interviews were therefore very important and 'in them he traced lines of actualization that required another mode of expression than the assimilable lines in his major books. The interviews are diagnoses'. It is the same with Nietzsche [I only really discover the importance of the unpublished work, especially the letters, the Nachlass, after reading Klossowski]. Foucault's complete works include the books and the interviews. Together they will lead us towards a becoming based on 'strata and currentness' (348).

Chapter 50 Response to a Question on the Subject

Philosophical concepts exercise functions in fields of thought. Those fields have internal variables and external variables '(states of things, moments of history)' (349) related to the internal ones and the functions. Concepts are therefore not created nor do they disappear on their own — the new functions in new fields 'dismiss it relatively'. That is why there is no point in criticising concepts — better to construct new ones or discover new fields that make concepts 'useless or inadequate'.

These rules affect the concept of the subject. Its classic functions include

(a) a universalising function, where the universal was not a matter of objective essence but rather of 'noetic or linguistic acts'. Hume is important here in arguing that acts that go beyond the given are connected to the activities of the subject [as I recall, the context was the issue of general moral principles — Deleuze here just makes a more technical point of what is involved when the subject says '"always" or "necessary"']. This introduces a necessary field of belief as a basis for knowledge, the conditions under which a belief is legitimate.

(b) a function of individuation, especially when the individual is no longer thought of as a thing or a soul, but a person 'a living and lived person, speaking and spoken to' (350).

The philosophy of the subject in Hume, but also in Kant, turned on problems arising from these two aspects, how and whether they were connected and if so how conflict might be resolved. Kant developed the notion of an I, 'the determination of time' and a Me as something 'determinable in time'. Husserl addresses the issue in the last of his Cartesian Meditations.

Functions of singularisation have also developed in the field of knowledge following new work on the variables of space–time. Here, singularity is not something opposing the universal, but rather 'any element that can be extended to the proximity of another such that it may obtain a connection: a singularity in the mathematical sense' [I vaguely remember this being discussed in Difference and Repetition -- there, singularities emitted ordinary points which extended to the boundaries of other singularities, and then you could read multiplicity for singularity]  . Knowledge and belief now have to include notions like assemblage or arrangement 'that indicate discharge and distribution of singularities'. These will be 'of the "toss of the dice" type' [I have never understood this, although I take it to be an unpredictable occurrence arising from within a fixed number of legitimate combinations, a specific actualization arising from virtual potentials]. Discharged singularities like this form 'a transcendental field [surely a virtual one?] without a subject. Multiple options become a noun, 'multiplicity', with philosophy as the theory of multiplicities: this need not refer to any subject or preestablished unit.

As a result, [classic notions of] 'truth and falsehood no longer count' [no universals to judge them. Dangerous slip enabled here from science and maths to culture and politics?] . Instead we need terms like the singular and the regular, the remarkable and the ordinary. There are no [classical] universals: [things like regularities are explained by the 'function of singularity']. We can see this in the development of legal judgements based on case or the notion of jurisprudence — this then enables us to judge 'singularities and functions of extension'[but this is just a way of avoiding any charge of ideological collective judgement in law?]. This will abolish any notion of the subject. Such a notion of jurisprudence would be supported by a philosophy without subject [warrant for the dangerous slip?].

There are, however, new types of individuation. These are no longer personal but can extend to the individuality of an event — 'a life, a season, a wind... a battle' (351). They do not constitute persons. We can think of them as haecceities. Perhaps we ourselves are haecceities like this instead of Is. This is a theme in Anglo-American literature as well as philosophy. Both show themselves 'incapable of finding an assignable meaning for the word "I" other than a grammatical fiction'.

Events like this raises complex questions of composition, speed, longitude and latitude, power and affect. As an opposite of personal is in psychology or language, they seem to promote a third or even a fourth person singular, 'the nonperson or It'. These help us 'recognize ourselves and our community better'[a philosophical apology for the overwhelming power of capitalist collectives?].

Overall, the notion of the subject 'has lost much of its interest' [academic research agenda apparent here]. We now think of 'pre-individual singularities and nonpersonal individuations'. As the concept changes, so does the field of problems to which it corresponds. We should now investigate the forces that make the problems change and require new concepts [these are going to be social ones, which Deleuze is ill-equipped to follow]. It is not that major philosophy is now redundant [heaven forbid-- as Bourdieu explains, the field must always be preserved in philosophy]. Instead, thanks to that tradition we now have new problems to discover. We cannot return. In this way, philosophy is in the same position as science and the arts.

Chapter 51 Preface to the American edition of The Time-Image

[Heavily summarized already in my edition of the book]

Chapter 52 Rivette's Three Circles

[The Gang of Four in English]. [The plot is summarized and diagrammed as a set of circles. There is also a commentary on the notion of playing a role:]In the first circle, young women are rehearsing the roles they will play and are finding it difficult to express authentic feelings with words that are not their own: 'this is the first sense of play: Roles' (355). There is a connection with the everyday lives of the girls, and here roles are no longer governed by a program but follow 'a haphazard change of attitudes and postures following several simultaneous stories that do not intersect. This is the second sense of play: the Attitudes and Postures in their interconnected day to day lives' (355-6). Apparently, Rivette is interested in types of individuation — comic and tragic graceful and clumsy, but 'above Lunar and Solar' (366). This second sequence is diagrammed as a second circle, partly parallel with the first circular segment.

Then there is a plot involving a man with unclear identity pursuing the girls, one of whom finally kills him. These are 'Rivette's greatest moments: absolutely beautiful', and reveal a third sense of play: 'Masks, in a political or police conspiracy that goes beyond us, which no one can escape'. This is diagrammed as a prolongation of the second circle, intertwined with it. It increasingly polarizes the girls attitudes but also spreads out to cover all the separate segments — for example the director of the theatre is an essential element in the conspiracy, and some of the girls have peculiar backgrounds.

Thus 'we are all rehearsing parts of which we are as yet unaware'(357); we slip into characters which we never fully master; we 'serve a conspiracy of which we are oblivious. This is Rivette's vision of the world' (357). It needs a theatre for the cinema to exist, but this is a special cinematic theatricality, aiming to show 'a piece of reality' [claiming realism by contradicting theatrical realism?]

Rivette also has characteristic places like the back of the theatre or a suburban house. Here, 'Nature does not live' (358), but they exhibit a 'strange grace' left out development. Rivette made these places important. Conspiracies are hatched in them , people live together, schools are established, but 'the dreamer can still seize the day and the nights, the sun and the moon'. Deleuze sees this as some 'great external Circle governing the other circles', dividing light and shadow.

Rivette can be understood as filming only light and its lunar or solar transformations. In this film, the lunar is represented by Lucia and the solar by Constance, although these are not persons but forces. There is no simple division into good and evil, but rather a subsistence between lunar and solar in certain places. Apparently, Rivette was much influenced by the poet Nerval, at an encounter rather than a matter of influence. It is this that has made 'Rivette one of the most inspired auteurs in cinema, and one of its great poets'.

[I have since viewed the film, and here are my thoughts]

Chapter 53 A Slippery Slope

[A discussion about whether Islamic girls should be permitted to wear the veil in French public schools].

The actual issue is absurd, but parents see it as having some significance. The issue is how far the demands will go

Demanding the right to Islamic prayer, a reassessment of the literature taught in the classroom as a possible 'offence to Muslim dignity?' (359). These demands should be made explicit. Religion should not be seen as the only way to claim an identity — there are plenty of secular Arabs. Overall, 'religions are worth much less than the nobility and the courage of the atheism's which they inspire' (360). It's important to maintain that the state should not finance religious schools. We should beware 'an alliance among religious groups to impugn a hesitant secularism'.

Chapter 54 Letter – Preface to Jean-Clet Martin

[Apparently a preface to a book on Deleuze's philosophy]. Philosophy should be seen as a system, unless it possesses coordinates like 'the Identical, the Similar and the Analogous' (361). It should instead be a system as in Leibniz. Any system must be 'in perpetual heterogeneity, it must also be a heterogenesis', and this would be new.

So the critiques of metaphor seemed justified. Instead, we need to see it as an operation which denies radical immanence — 'hence the essential relation to territory and Earth' (362). Philosophy is indeed the creation of concepts, an activity that is not just reflective or contemplative but creative: this is to be pursued in the forthcoming What is Philosophy.

The notion of multiplicity is really important. It is indeed connected to the notion of singularity, and these terms replace the classic ones of the universal and the individual. '"Rhizome" is the best term to designate multiplicities'. The notion of a simulacrum is 'all but worthless'. ATP is dedicated to 'multiplicities for themselves (becomings, lines, etc)'

Chapter 55 Preface to the American Edition of Empircism and Subjectivity

[I have notes on this here]

Chapter 56 Preface A New Sylistics

[Based on a book once a thesis at Vincennes by  G Passerone]

This is really a study of 'procedures or operations in literature', but there are implications for other disciplines. The argument is first that style is syntactical not rhetorical, 'the product of syntax and through syntax' (366); second that as in Proust, style is a foreign language within the language.

The view of conventional linguistics is that language is a homogeneous system at or close to equilibrium. Sociolinguistics draws attention to external social factors, and the implication is that each language can be seen as a heterogeneous group, always bifurcating, never at equilibrium, as in 'Black or Chicano English' (367). We do not just switch from one language to another as bilingual speakers do: instead there is another language play, a heterogenesis.

We can see this in the notion of free indirect discourse as 'a unique syntactical form'. Another expressing subject is included in the statement which already has an expressing subject [the example is '"I realised that she was about to leave…"']. The second 'she' is a new expressing subject appearing in a statement that already has an 'I' as an expressing subject. It is thus possible for every expressing subject to contain others each of which can speak a diverse language.

This notion led Bakhtin to the idea of 'polyphonic or contrapuntal' language in the novel, and apparently it also inspired Pasolini's view of poetry. Passerone analyses the great authors like Dante to argue that free indirect discourse is actually 'coextensive with every language; it is the determinant element of syntax', even where it is not actually central [apparently, it is more visible in Italian than French]. Balzac offers a similar splintering of languages, as many as there are 'characters, types, and milieu'. This is a kind of non-style, naturally to be seen as grand style itself, 'the purest creation of style.'

Some linguists would argue that these indirect forms are not proper languages, but that assumes that language is a homogeneous system and not a 'heterogeneous assemblage in perpetual disequilibrium' (368). Style can build on these diverse languages which should be seen as foreign, 'a foreign language in the language'. Here, we are elevating stylistics and pragmatics into primary factors in language, not secondary determinations.

For Passerone, language 'has no constants, only variables [and] style varies variables'. Each style is a particular variation. Another linguist, G Guillaume wanted to replace phonetic oppositions as constants with 'differential morphemic positions' in order to trace variable points on a line or movement of thought. As an example, the indefinite article can be seen as 'a variable that performs cuts or takes points of view on a movement of particularization', while the definite article does the same for movements of generalization. Verbs can also be seen as cuts or points of view or differential positions, tracing 'movements of incidents and decadence (and we could add "procadence")'. [The example is the imperfect tense in Flaubert]. Verbs contained dynamisms or trajectories and the tenses and modes 'set up positions and effect cuts'. These variables occupy 'zones of variation' which constitute 'style as a modulation of language'.

Buffon is [apparently] famous for saying that '"style is the man himself,"' (369) but this does not refer to the personality of the author, but rather 'the form actualized in linguistic material; it is a mould'. The mould is not just an outer layer, but rather it affects the whole, 'it is a modulation'.

Passerone uses this notion of modulation to show how a particular 'melodic conception of style' can develop, in Rousseau, but also in the Baroque and the Romantic era [apparently in the latter, 'polyphony and harmony, consonant and dissonant chords' offered a kind of autonomous modulation]. Nietzsche can be seen as the greatest example of post Romanticism. Modulation here traces a broken line, perpetually bifurcating, offering a rhythm which can produce harmony and melody. The visible form of this are rhetorical figures, but even Proust thought that these figures grasp different objects through the lens of a style: 'imagination relies heavily on syntax'.

The variables of language are positions or points of view on a movement of thought, a line. Each variable passes through a number of diverse positions on a modulating line, producing features of style such as 'progression and repetition' (370) [apparently, examples include Mallarmé, someone called Claudel, and 'the vibrating spiral-line of Artaud']

Style stretches language, letting its tensors work, pushing towards the limit. This limit is not something outside of language, but rather 'it is the outside of language itself' [I have never really understood this formulation]. Style is like a foreign language, although it is always the language we speak — 'it is a foreign language in the language we speak', stretched to its limit. As it approaches a limit it begins 'to stutter, to stammer, to scream, and to whisper' [so normal formulations do not work with unusual or foreign conceptions?]. This can appear as a form of non-style, madness or delirium. The closer language approaches its limit the more sober style becomes, the non-style of Tolstoy or Beckett.

The great writers always know that they are still far from what they desire and seek. They are after what Celine called an abstract line, without contour or outline but which is found in any figure. This line might be found in nature or in mysteries, or even in particular hours of the day, or in events that are either about to happen or have already happened, in postures of the body, in cases where language extends towards painting or music.

So language is heterogeneous, free indirect discourse is coextensive with language, language shows variables being modulated and varied, languages feature tensions or extensions that traverse them, experimental writers seek an abstract line is the outside or limit of language. These abstract points are illustrated in a number of concrete examples of styles in Passerone's book.

Chapter 57 Preface The Seeds of Time

[Preface to a book by E Alliez: Capital Times: Tales of the Conquest of Time 1996. Another doctoral student of Deleuze's. I haven't read the book. This is baffling as a result].

It seems that Alliez refers to 'conducts of time' [conduits?]. Time actually operates with several speeds in the same conduct, and we can encounter multiple conducts. Sometimes the elements in them seem more appropriate, and at other times strange. A conduct is 'the number of the extensive movement of the world' (372).

Speeds can change within mobile elements, times can interlock or dislocate. Aberrant times can be refocused in a more abstract way. Apparently, meteorology works with these notions of time, and so does money and '"chrematistics"' [ '
the study of wealth or a particular theory of wealth as measured in money.'] (373).

Time can also be seen as an integer of intensive movements of the soul of the world [!], a synthesis distinguishing present past and future. These imply a certain leaning towards what comes after, or turning back to what came before. However, these different movements introduce a tension, exacerbated by thinking about zero points [pass].

[More baffling remarks ensue about intentionality]

Apparently, there are implications for the history of philosophy which displays different conducts and speeds. The notion of time becomes increasingly less dependent on extensive movement, on the description of objects, and favours instead the description of space. Time therefore becomes 'a condition of action'.

Apparently the main themes of the book are 'processes of extension, intensification, capitalization, subjectivation' (374).

Chapter 58 the Gulf War: a Despicable War

[The first Gulf War that is]. The Americans are disingenuous in their claim to follow a quick and precise war. They are not just destroying strategic targets but killing civilians. Even historical sites are threatened. The war is 'a branch of state terrorism', trying out new techniques and weapons.

The French stance seems to involve hoping to wage war well so that they can participate in peace. Many journalists are willing to go along with US policy. Intellectuals are silent — do they really think that this is a UN approved war? That Saddam is like Hitler? Israel is claiming to fully support the UN even while its domestic policy denies the inclusion of Palestinians [again a contemporary debating point here in that any peace settlement with the Palestinians is made 'the equivalent of the horrors of the Nazis "final solution"' (376)]. Triumph threatens American hegemony with the complicity of Europe.

Chapter 59 We Invented the Ritornello

[Rather a hostile interview on the publication of What is Philosophy]. The definition of philosophy in the work might be offensive, but inoffensive definitions are vague. Philosophy creates concepts, whereas science works through functions, but there is no claim that a concept is superior to a function.

There is a need to distinguish becoming from history even though there are connections between them: 'becoming begins in history and returns to it, but it is not of history' (377). It is an opposite of history. History might describe the emergence of an event in terms of certain functions, but if events emerge by surpassing their coming, we can witness an event more philosophically:  'becoming as the substance of the concept'.

The creation of concepts is a disagreement with those who think that philosophy should be communication, including Habermas. Philosophy once also considered itself to be about contemplation or reflection. But in both cases a concept had to be created, of contemplation and reflection. Habermasian communication has '[not] yet found a good concept, a truly critical concept' (378). Nor has Rorty with his emphasis on consensus or democratic conversation.

The emphasis on images of thought leading to geophilosophy can be explained. There is a reason why philosophy arises in Greek city states and in Western capitalist societies, but these reasons are contingent [empirical?]. The principle of reason itself is 'contingent reason not necessary reason'. Instead, the social formations should be seen as 'hotbeds of immanence' (379), societies of friends which promote opinion. Philosophy emerges in particular historical conditions with these fundamental traits, but cannot be reduced to these. Philosophy becomes because it is always questioning its own conditions. Geophilosophy is important in reminding us that thinking is not just about subjects and objects, but goes on 'in a variable relation to territory and to the earth' [this mysterious relation to the Earth might mean a relation to natural forces rather than to geography as such?]

[NB after reading Genosko's reader on Guattari p.11, the term takes on a different meaning. It refers to the milieu, the immediate neighbourhood in which psychiatry was to be found rather than the clinic. The term was introduced in discussions of 'community psychiatry' -- that term has all sorts of definitions, including historical, sociological and economic which were unsuitable. The whole thing depends on Guattari's indifference to the social class etc of his patients, I reckon -- he had rejected the other views of madness as alienation.  The overwhelming importance of the immediate milieu of the clinic for their identity was opposed to older identities based on social class or occupation?]

The current political situation may not justify any calls to revolution. People confuse 'the quest for freedom with the embrace of capitalism', but the joys of capitalism are probably never enough. Socialism might have failed but so has capitalist globalisation, producing  violent inequality and exclusion. 'The American Revolution failed long before the Soviet Revolution'. However, revolutionary situations seem to be engendered by capitalism itself. Philosophy is limited in being 'tied to a revolutionary becoming that is nothing to do with the history of revolutions' [that is tied to abstract bourgeois liberal notions of revolution?]

Discussion is not particularly fruitful, but what about the relationship with readers? It is hard enough to understand what people are trying to say, and too often, discussion becomes 'just an exercise in narcissism where everyone takes turns showing off' (380), and the focus on ideas is dissipated. It is more difficult but more important to think about the problem to which propositions respond. If you understand the problem, there is no desire to discuss it — you either work with that problem or pose another problem [dangerously relativist as we know. Good on reminding us that D's work addresses particular philosophical problems and is not some all-purpose ragbag]. There is nothing to say if people share 'a common source of problems'. The problems themselves produce particular solutions. If problems are indeterminate, discussion is still 'just a waste of time'. Conversation, however, is different and we need it. When it works well, it is 'a great schizophrenic experiment happening between two individuals with common resources and a taste for ellipses and shorthand expressions' [must only be him and Guattari]. Conversations have long silences. They give you ideas. But discussion has no place: 'the phrase "let's discuss it" is an act of terror' [an echo here of Lyotard on Habermas's proposals to promote continual challenge in the ideal speech act].

20th-century philosophers have indeed created concepts. Bergson uses the word duration as a new concept, which is not to be confused with becoming. He also sees memory as a matter of 'the coexistence of sheets or layers of the past' (380), and talks about the elan vitale as a concept of differentiation. Heidegger creates a new concept of Being 'whose two components are veiling and unveiling'. Sometimes concepts need strange words 'with crazy etymologies' or familiar contemporary words 'but… With distant echoes' (381). Derrida's différance is a new concept of difference. Foucault creates a concept of utterance, separate from concepts of phrase, proposition or speech act. 'The primary feature of the concept is its novel distribution of things'.

[As our contribution to the creation of concepts] 'We formulated a concept of the ritornello in philosophy'.

Chapter 60 For Félix

The work with Félix was a constant source of discovery and joy. The books he wrote on his own have 'inexhaustible riches', covering three domains and offering 'paths of creation in each'.

First in the psychiatric domain, Félix introduced notions of group subjects and transversal relationships. These were political as well as psychiatric concepts, because madness implies a power at work in the social and political arena — it 'unmoors continents, races and tribes' (382). It has to be both treated and seen as something politically determined.

Secondly there might be in there a system linking together segments of science, philosophy, life experience and art. There might be something which makes possible scientific functions philosophical concepts, experiences and artistic creation [and we get to the usual problems with this...] 'This possibility is homogeneous while the possibles are heterogeneous'. We see this with the 'four headed system in the Cartographies — '"territories, flows, machines and universes"'.

Thirdly, there are artistic and literary analyses, on Balthus (see notes) and Fromanger [see wikipedia entry which includes the mention of a text by Deleuze and Foucault on photorealism and the blurb from the Tate] and literary analyses like the stuff on the refrain in Proust, which links 'the shouts of the shopkeepers to the little phrase'. There is also apparently a text on Genet and the Prisoner of Love.

These insights are what will keep him alive, providing a substance to the remembered gestures and glances.

Chapter 61 Immanence: a Life

Already summarized here. The note says that this was the last thing he published before killing himself on November 4, 1995. There is apparently a companion piece in the annex of the second edition of Dialogues. Both pieces 'belong to a project entitled "Ensemble and Multiplicities"'. {It's pretty good, nice and terse, apparently based on notes}. Apparently, Deleuze wanted 'to flesh out the concept of the virtual which he felt he had left relatively unexplored' (410).]

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